Awesome pics from a pretty cool Dad. His hand gesture sparked controversy recently but I think it is a cool way for him to be a part of the pictures of him with his son. This guy is doing a great job, keep it up!
Click on this link to see his site: Metal Dad Life
Saturday, May 31, 2014
Sunday, May 18, 2014
Breast feeding support group... SAY WHAT?
Men, I have found the place you wished existed when you were that confused, hormonally charged 13 year old boy... The breast feeding support group at your local hospital. Now, as an adult, you will probably agree with me that a child feeding from a breast takes away some or all of the sexiness from a beautiful female breast but 13 year old you wouldn't have cared one bit.
Try for a moment to picture this. A room with 15 women all feeding their children as other women (the lactation consultants) walk around and help to "stimulate the flow" or "perk up a nipple." Now, before you go all crazy on me and say what a creep I am I will tell you that I was probably the most embarrassed person in the room. I quickly instituted the same rules men have while standing at the urinal in the bathroom. "Eyes forward, pay attention to only your equipment and avoid eye contact with anyone in the room. They. Don't. Exist."
The first time we went, my wife and I walked in to the room and I immediately offered to leave because I wasn't sure if I was breaking a rule (or law) by being in the room. By the fourth or fifth visit with my wife I was mentally solving the breast feeding problems other women were expressing to the consultants because we were becoming breast feeding pros and no longer needed the "support."
When other men came to the group with their wives it was readily apparent who the rookies were. Some of them were beat red the entire time and you could tell the ones who had wandering eyes. The best was when the varsity players came to the group and we carried on a conversation across the room, like our wives weren't sitting next to us with both breasts exposed to the world. I found the entire situation one of those times where you realize life really has changed. No longer are your nights spent at clubs trying to get a girl to go home with so you can see some breasts. Your days are now spent going to places where breasts are plentiful, you just look at them in a totally different way...
All kidding aside, the group was extremely helpful for my wife and I. We both thought breastfeeding would be pretty intuitive and easy to establish. When our daughter started having issues latching and really didn't seem to be feeding well we needed the help to assure that she would be ok. The best part of the group was a scale we used to weigh her before and after a feeding. This way you could tell exactly, down to a tenth of an ounce, how much the baby had consumed and that she was growing just fine. This reassurance kept us sane on those nights where my wife was dealing with a screaming child who just didn't seem interested in eating. We are so thankful for all the lactation consultants out there!
Try for a moment to picture this. A room with 15 women all feeding their children as other women (the lactation consultants) walk around and help to "stimulate the flow" or "perk up a nipple." Now, before you go all crazy on me and say what a creep I am I will tell you that I was probably the most embarrassed person in the room. I quickly instituted the same rules men have while standing at the urinal in the bathroom. "Eyes forward, pay attention to only your equipment and avoid eye contact with anyone in the room. They. Don't. Exist."
The first time we went, my wife and I walked in to the room and I immediately offered to leave because I wasn't sure if I was breaking a rule (or law) by being in the room. By the fourth or fifth visit with my wife I was mentally solving the breast feeding problems other women were expressing to the consultants because we were becoming breast feeding pros and no longer needed the "support."
When other men came to the group with their wives it was readily apparent who the rookies were. Some of them were beat red the entire time and you could tell the ones who had wandering eyes. The best was when the varsity players came to the group and we carried on a conversation across the room, like our wives weren't sitting next to us with both breasts exposed to the world. I found the entire situation one of those times where you realize life really has changed. No longer are your nights spent at clubs trying to get a girl to go home with so you can see some breasts. Your days are now spent going to places where breasts are plentiful, you just look at them in a totally different way...
All kidding aside, the group was extremely helpful for my wife and I. We both thought breastfeeding would be pretty intuitive and easy to establish. When our daughter started having issues latching and really didn't seem to be feeding well we needed the help to assure that she would be ok. The best part of the group was a scale we used to weigh her before and after a feeding. This way you could tell exactly, down to a tenth of an ounce, how much the baby had consumed and that she was growing just fine. This reassurance kept us sane on those nights where my wife was dealing with a screaming child who just didn't seem interested in eating. We are so thankful for all the lactation consultants out there!
Friday, May 16, 2014
Sir, can I help you?
Many studies have shown that the more words a parent speaks around or to their child the better and faster their language skills will develop. It is even to a point where ads on the radio proclaim a child should hear 30,000 words in a day to be properly exposed to language. Although I do not count my words on a daily basis, I believe these studies are on to something where it obviously can't hurt to speak more to your baby.
With this in mind I have begun to do what I call "narrate my day" around my little girl. I basically just tell her what we are doing and make a little game out of the voices I can make and change the inflection in my voice to keep her interested. She really enjoys the discussions and lately has begun to try to mimic my actions by cooing, grunting and moving her lips. The problem I have run into is that it is hard to stop once I start my narration. Even on trips outside the home I find myself thinking out loud and narrating the things we are doing together, especially when she is in the carrier hanging in front of me. To other people this must look like I am talking to myself. But the best interaction I had happened in Target last week.
I had Charlotte in her stroller and we were walking through the store picking up all the things we needed on mommy's list. We headed up to the baby section to scope out the diaper deals for that week and as I walked into the section I started calling out the prices to her and doing the math in my head to figure out if the deal was really that good compared to other stores. I must have looked very confused not only doing mental math (not my strong suit, just ask my Dad about my struggles with multiplication tables) combined with the fact that I was talking to my child in her stroller made one of the workers walk over to me and say in a very slow but loud voice "Sir, Can I Help You?" Thinking back this would have probably been a great opportunity to have some fun with him but I looked up, slightly surprised by the tone of his voice and replied, "No thank you I am just talking to my daughter here about the price of these diapers." I figured it was better to admit exactly what I was doing then to pretend something else.
The only problem was that our interaction didn't end there. I went over to the aisle with plastic storage bins and unfortunately they did not have the correct lids for the containers I wanted to buy so I pushed one of the "Need Help" buttons and who should show up? My best friend, the Target guy. After helping me to get some more of the lids from the back of the store, he actually apologized for our previous exchange and obviously felt bad for making an assumption about my mental state.
I guess I now qualify for the crazy man who talks to himself in the department store prize...
With this in mind I have begun to do what I call "narrate my day" around my little girl. I basically just tell her what we are doing and make a little game out of the voices I can make and change the inflection in my voice to keep her interested. She really enjoys the discussions and lately has begun to try to mimic my actions by cooing, grunting and moving her lips. The problem I have run into is that it is hard to stop once I start my narration. Even on trips outside the home I find myself thinking out loud and narrating the things we are doing together, especially when she is in the carrier hanging in front of me. To other people this must look like I am talking to myself. But the best interaction I had happened in Target last week.
I had Charlotte in her stroller and we were walking through the store picking up all the things we needed on mommy's list. We headed up to the baby section to scope out the diaper deals for that week and as I walked into the section I started calling out the prices to her and doing the math in my head to figure out if the deal was really that good compared to other stores. I must have looked very confused not only doing mental math (not my strong suit, just ask my Dad about my struggles with multiplication tables) combined with the fact that I was talking to my child in her stroller made one of the workers walk over to me and say in a very slow but loud voice "Sir, Can I Help You?" Thinking back this would have probably been a great opportunity to have some fun with him but I looked up, slightly surprised by the tone of his voice and replied, "No thank you I am just talking to my daughter here about the price of these diapers." I figured it was better to admit exactly what I was doing then to pretend something else.
The only problem was that our interaction didn't end there. I went over to the aisle with plastic storage bins and unfortunately they did not have the correct lids for the containers I wanted to buy so I pushed one of the "Need Help" buttons and who should show up? My best friend, the Target guy. After helping me to get some more of the lids from the back of the store, he actually apologized for our previous exchange and obviously felt bad for making an assumption about my mental state.
I guess I now qualify for the crazy man who talks to himself in the department store prize...
Sunday, May 11, 2014
A failed attempt of a new Father's first Mother's Day.
So I tried... I tried to be thoughtful, I tried to my sly, I tried to do something that would make my wife's heart melt. Well, not sure about the heart melting but one thing is for certain, the first mother's day won't be forgotten.
A few days ago my lovely little girl and I took a stroll down the street to the local Michael's craft store with the idea that we (yes, my 2-month old contributed to the idea) would make one of those little impression molds of her hand or foot to give to Mommy as a present. True to form, I took a seemingly small project and went a little overboard. Instead of buying the simple bake a hand print clay, I decided to go with the plaster mold in the shape of a heart where I thought I might be able to get both a hand and a foot in the plaster. That is until we got home and read the directions...
And I quote "hold the child's hand or foot completely still in the gel mold for 1.5 to 2 minutes until the gel sets." Genius!!! I am now committing to hold my 2-month old daughter's feet still for 2 whole minutes. Undeterred, I decided to give it a try and as mommy was taking a late afternoon nap, I proceeded to get everything ready. The moment of truth came and when I placed her 2 feet in the (cold) gel she decided that this new feeling was not something she enjoyed and immediately lost control of her limbs. After I had calmed her down and cleaned off the drying gel from her feet, I went back to my creation to find the gel mold on it's side and already formed.
I surveyed the damage and decided to give the plaster a try. Her feet came out looking deformed with little air bubbles making the surface porous and ruff. After a good painting it looks like something a pre-schooler would make and bring home.
I now truly know the meaning of "it's the thought that counts." My lovely wife actually loves the mold and spared my ego from the laughing I thought was sure to come.
Happy Mother's day to all!
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A few days ago my lovely little girl and I took a stroll down the street to the local Michael's craft store with the idea that we (yes, my 2-month old contributed to the idea) would make one of those little impression molds of her hand or foot to give to Mommy as a present. True to form, I took a seemingly small project and went a little overboard. Instead of buying the simple bake a hand print clay, I decided to go with the plaster mold in the shape of a heart where I thought I might be able to get both a hand and a foot in the plaster. That is until we got home and read the directions...
And I quote "hold the child's hand or foot completely still in the gel mold for 1.5 to 2 minutes until the gel sets." Genius!!! I am now committing to hold my 2-month old daughter's feet still for 2 whole minutes. Undeterred, I decided to give it a try and as mommy was taking a late afternoon nap, I proceeded to get everything ready. The moment of truth came and when I placed her 2 feet in the (cold) gel she decided that this new feeling was not something she enjoyed and immediately lost control of her limbs. After I had calmed her down and cleaned off the drying gel from her feet, I went back to my creation to find the gel mold on it's side and already formed.
I surveyed the damage and decided to give the plaster a try. Her feet came out looking deformed with little air bubbles making the surface porous and ruff. After a good painting it looks like something a pre-schooler would make and bring home.
I now truly know the meaning of "it's the thought that counts." My lovely wife actually loves the mold and spared my ego from the laughing I thought was sure to come.
Happy Mother's day to all!
Nailed it!
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