My mom, who stayed home with me until I was in high school, gave me some advice: The things you do in your first week become habits.
As my last day of work approached, I wrote down some goals. These baby steps would become habits that would put me on the path to self improvement and creative fulfillment. I would do all these things in my first week, then brag about them in this blog.
Two months later, I’m finally blogging about my progress. One change: I’m calling them objectives instead of goals. Objectives sounds more videogamey. Continue reading Objectives, part 1
A word of advice for new dads: NEVER blog about how well your babyperson is sleeping. It’s the oldest and harshest jinx. Last week, the Champ got a surly cold, and not even the formidable Nap Nanny® Chill™ could keep him asleep more than a few hours.
Today’s post is about bottles. I long considered myself an expert on the subject because I’m a master of the adult ones. If a container has booze in it, I will get us to the booze.
More coffee? No thanks, I’m good. TURNS TO CAMERA. Oh hi there. I’m Tim Agne. You may remember me from such defunct blogs as Week Fiction and The Big Yellow Nasty. But I’ll bet what you’re really wondering is how the father of a feisty four-month-old can be so gosh-darn chipper this early in the morning.
Trust me, it’s not just because my wife handles the night feedings and I don’t have to wake up early and get ready for work. The real secret is an incredible new baby product that we’re rating as a “definite buy” for new-baby owners and a “registry must” for prospective baby buyers. Ladies and gentlemen, meet the Nap Nanny® Chill™. Everybody sleeps!
“I’m sorry, ma’am. I don’t have any cash right now.” My go-to line for dismissing a panhandler. Usually works.
“I don’t NEED money.”
“What do you need?”
Right then in my neighborhood grocery-store parking lot, at dusk on a Monday, a little switch flipped in my new-dad brain. And there was nothing my practical, logical, jaded superego could do to stop what was about to happen.
In order to help you understand what it felt like, here’s an obnoxiously cute baby photo:
Spending this much time at home comes with certain temptations for a dude. Sweatpants. Baseball caps. Old-man slippers.
I have it easy. I could wear jeans at my last job. Shorts at the job before that. Had I been stuck in the standard 9-to-5 uniform of khakis and a tucked-in shirt, a combination that makes me feel like a human baked potato, I’d have a much harder time resisting slob attire now that I’m staying at home.
I come to you now — in nice jeans, leather shoes and a shirt with buttons — with a simple message for stay-at-home dads: Shave every day.
Lately, the Champ seems interested in everything I drink. If I take a sip of water, he’ll lock his eyes on my Imo’s Pizza mug from the counter to my mouth. He does this while I’m carrying him in his BabyBjörn, which requires some impressive neck-craning.
This morning, he reached for my Monster Energy can. Without hesitation, my expertly honed journalist brain recognized an opportunity to take one of the Great Types of Baby Photos: Baby Pretending To Do Something Dad Does.
I’ve been a stay-at-home dad for a month and a half, and I was supposed to be a famous daddy blogger by now. I had the big-picture stuff all planned out: A steady stream of review products and display-ad revenue followed by a huge advance on my bestselling book. Before long, CBS would turn my Twitter account into a sitcom, and morning shows would fly me in for parenting advice. I vaguely remember including some ideas about supporting a working mother and raising a baby boy.
And then, just as I was remembering how awesome I am, “Saturday Night Live” tries to take me down a peg with “You Can Do Anything!” In the sketch, Bill Hader and crew lay some thick sarcasm on YouTube-famous kids, blaming their obnoxious self-esteem on over-encouraging parents:
I guess my success as an energy-drink reviewer makes me part of the “YouTube generation” they’re lampooning. But the wake-up call is too late for me. I just walked away from an eight-year career in online journalism. I spent a lot of that time angry that my immense writing talent wasn’t getting me more public recognition, even though I wasn’t writing most of the time.
In fact, the real reason I’m launching this daddy blog is because I NEED YOU TO TELL ME I’M A HILARIOUS WRITER. You think I’m a good dad? Fine. You think my baby is cute? Whatever. Just tell me I write good. I need your validation to sustain the pie-in-the-sky fantasy outlined above.
Is there any chance my 4-month-old son could grow up with more realistic expectations? I’m starting to worry that I’m coddling him by indulging his near-constant need to be held. He’ll go to school in an era of hypersafety and criminalized bullying, and there’s a good chance he’ll never get punched. Is that really a character-building experience I should want for my boy?
“The world needs more singer-songwriters, and fewer doctors and engineers,” Vanessa Bayer says in the sketch. A New York Times article just told me that what the world’s corporations really need is a precise, nimble workforce of human drones willing to live at the factory and put in 12-hour days six days a week.
I think I might temper my son’s dreams by telling him he should aspire to a meager existence in the Orwellian future factory-cities of Foxconn USA, assembling iPhones for a thriving middle class in China and India.
Who am I kidding? This guy is obviously a star, and nobody will ever tell him any different.