If I didn’t have boobs, I’d still be sleeping.
Breastfeeding is a very personal decision. But it’s also hard (so I’ve been told) and incredibly fulfilling for those that (a) are able to do it and again, (b) choose to do it. Mrs. FWL falls into both categories.
I have to admit, breastfeeding allowed me much more sleep than I expected during the first several months. While I did wake up whenever Isabel started crying, or get up during the nights to help whenever possible, I was fortunate enough to go right back to sleep… while Mrs. FWL was sometimes up for over an hour, multiples times a night. I know that the non-breastfeeding partner is not always this lucky.
I actually remember typing on a typewriter when I was younger. My dad had one of the more “advanced” models that had some digital aspects to it (don’t ask me the specifics, but I’m sure he could tell you), but it was a typewriter nonetheless. I suppose back then it was cool to hear the click-click of the keys and the ding of the paper wheel. I remember always being slightly amazed with the “backspace” function on this model because it actually blotted out the letter/word for you.
He told me stories about typing papers in college and the absolute nightmare it was to make changes. Just the thought of retyping a page, or many pages, because you had to change one sentence, or rearrange one paragraph makes my skin crawl. Something so simple now, was an arduous and emotionally painful process not too long ago. (Can you imagine what it was like when EVERYTHING was handwritten, gah!)
Can I Google ‘How to make your baby laugh?’
Just like adults, some babies laugh more than others. Isabel has always been, and still is, more of a serious baby. She observes everything, soaks it all in, and then, if you’re lucky, shows some emotion.
Early on, she was a tough nut to crack. She smiled a lot, but she didn’t laugh all that much.
This update is combined for two reasons. The first is that I always seems to neglect these monthly updates until days before her next monthly-birthday, and secondly, these two months are very related – splitting them up would have been too confusing for me and thus you, and I care about your feelings. So without further adieu…
As soon as people find out you are having a baby, they are eager to give advice, whether or not it is actually solicited. In their defense they are just excited for you and have been waiting to share their acquired wisdom. And when said advice is first heard, it sounds glorious, as if each tidbit of top secret parent information will surely make our impending life change much easier. But alas, we soon learn that some is pure gold, some is pure crap, and the rest falls somewhere between helpful and cliche.
We all have those inanimate objects that hold special places in our hearts – stuffed animals, jewelry, artwork, souvenirs, and even furniture. I mean, Mrs. FWL and I are getting a new couch and getting rid of some of the first pieces of furniture that we bought together eight years ago when we graduated from Ikea.
I imagine the same sentiments can also be held by a toddler when everything in their world is their “first.” And when the day comes for us to get rid of something that Isabel has grown up with in her short life, perhaps the media console or DVD player that she almost breaks every time she gets near it, she will act with the same sentimentality seen here. Watch!
This is a guest post from a fellow dad and great friend after his recent trip to Hawaii.
Death is everywhere, lurking around every corner. One of the most fascinating things in life is how we traverse between our amazing resilience and frailty as human beings. More eloquently put;
Oh, it’s a fragile thing
This life we lead
If I think too much I can get overwhelmed by the grace
By which we live our lives with death over our shoulders
Thanks Eddie Vedder.
When I was younger, the thought of my own demise intrigued me ever so slightly… a passing thought mainly. Like most younger folks, I was too busy having fun. Sometimes that meant getting close enough to see your own demise, taste the fear anticipating one’s own death. Whether jumping out of planes, off cliffs, rock climbing, biking, driving fast, chasing lightning or some of life’s other expected adolescent transgressions against suggested advice, common sense, laws, and socially accepted norms, etc. I lived for myself. I feared for me only.
My recent travels to paradise (Hawaiian destination wedding) have shown me and my wife a whole other side to the fear of death. It has taken me these past two weeks to process the feelings enough to put them into my words. In those two weeks we have tried to be the best parents possible, spending as much time in the moment with our kids, exploring and living life simply but to the fullest. I can say I have personally been trying to soak up the little moments, dropping my daughter off at school, breathing through the tantrums of a 3 and a 1/2 and an almost 2 year old. It’s still hard, but now there is a new fear attached. One that was only hypothetical until now. Only a distant possibility before my most recent plane flight. Read more