Losing it: a common theme for parents everywhere

     I've been a dad the better part of three months, and I think I'm handling it just fine.  I don't feel like my social life has been stunted, but there are several things about myself that sure are signs of me going crazy.  But isn't that part of being a parent?

#1: Reading Batman in "baby talk"     

     So, right now, at the prime age of crazy young, this kid should hear language, not for specific decoding, but for general comprehension of feeling.  He needs to learn that sounds have meaning, but he doesn't need to know what all those meanings are.  He's still working on his name.  And apparently, (and this truly disappointed me,) "baby talk", when you talk in a high register, is easier for them to understand.  Now, I don't want to read Dr. Seuss to him yet, because I might as well be reading an entry from the Encyclopedia Britannica.  It's all Greek to DanPar.  So, I just read aloud whatever I usually read.  And so, for the last couple weeks, I've been reading Batman.  Cutesy Batman, as he faces off against cutesy villains, who take cutesy hostages, and, well, you get the point.

Tortured past superhero + cute positive happy baby voice = Dad's going off the deep end

#2: Being okay with poo     

     Diapers are disgusting.  Well, let me tell you, that's the first misconception that you get over in the first week of being a parent.  Because babies are on an all-liquid diet (it doesn't work, he's almost doubled his weight!), their poo doesn't smell too bad.  It smells more like oatmeal that's beginning to turn.  And because in one month, I'd changed literally hundreds of diapers, poo is no big deal; the only difference is that we need to clean him up a little better.  (Also, in one instance we had, we needed to wash the curtains before they stained.)  Poo no longer being gross is my second point to show you that I am losing it.




#3: Getting angry at a baby     

     If you're going to list off all the different ways that a 2 month-old can get on your nerves, it's actually not going to be a long list.  He can't go off and rob a liquor store, he can't say mean things behind your back, he can't even go to college just to drop out and start a doomed-to-fail band in your basement.  But babies don't need a long list.  They need just one item, to get you where it hurts; to make you feel inadequate, to make you lose sleep, to make you unable to think about anything else.  They can cry for no obvious reason.  Little baby DanPar can cry for hours, no matter what I do.  I'll change him, feed him, bounce him, talk to him, lay him down, read to him, and he'll just keep on crying his head off.  And all babies have a powerfully sad and unique cry.  DanPar's special ability is crying until he's out of breath, and continuing to cry even when he's out of air, as if he refuses to inhale until his unknown needs are met.  Babies are a lot of work.  But there's nothing wrong with taking 20 minutes to go do something else and make sure you don't lose your temper.  It's insane, but yes, you can get mad at something only 11 pounds, wearing a fuzzy onesie.
(Quick note here: Two other things that babies can do to get on your nerves: pooping on your curtains, and grabbing your hair with an impressive baby death-grip.)


#4: Realizing that you created a human     

     So, babies.  I used to think of them as human larvae, and still do on most days.  But every once in a while, I'll realize that this baby is totally human.  He's here.  He's even getting a personality (which, unfortunately, doesn't like the music I listen to).  He's learning to play.  He sticks his tongue out when he tries to smile.  He holds his pacifier in his mouth when he wants it, or spits it about a foot away when he doesn't.  He looks at me when I'm talking to him, and when we fly around the house, he'll find some things fascinating.
It's crazy that babies are humans.  And it's crazy every moment that I realize that this baby is 50% me.




#5: Not knowing which of you your spouse is talking to     

     Quick fifth one here.  My beautiful wife Jessi, who keeps me sane more than she knows, calls our baby "honey".  Well, that's also MY name.
     So, when I hear her say, "Honey, can you help me?", I come running.
     Then, "I need you to let me dress you," I slow down, but hey--I wear PJs and t-shirts every day; it could still be me she's talking to.
     And finally, "Don't you want a fresh diaper on?"  That's when I stop.  Hopefully, by the time I have to hear that from my wife, my son will be a multinational philanthropist who found an efficient way to desalinate ocean water and quickly transport that water inland to people in need, from a start-up business with a few close friends.  (Jessi and I discussed it, that's what we're shooting for.)