Musings of a New Father

If you were wondering why I haven't posted anything in the past few months, it's because I was busy
(1) indie publishing my novel, The Invisible Id,
(2) graduating from BYU with a degree in nutritional science,
and (3) having a FREAKING BABY.

I mean, no, I didn't personally push the kid out my cha cha (I don't even have a cha cha), but I still "had" her, in a sense.

Anyway, I guess I'm writing today because I want to share a few of the things I've learned since Elsie was born, so here goes!

Babies are terrorists.
And they aren't even sure of their own demands. I've heard this said before I became a father, but I thought it was just a joke. Nope! Babies are fixated on the basic necessities of life, and they don't care about you beyond your ability to feed and comfort them. They scream and scream and scream until they feel comfortable, and it doesn't matter if it's noon or 3am—they don't give a sizzling sassafras.

Baby quarantine is a thing.
For some reason when you have a baby, everyone thinks you "need time alone" with the baby to "bond" or something.

No.

Having a newborn baby in my house is the single most stressful thing that has ever happened to me, and I've been held at knife-point by a hooligan in Brazil. If I don't have support from friends and family, I want to cry my brains out. My wife is an introvert and she feels the same way. Who the hell decided that child-rearing should be done in isolation? Humans are social creatures, for goodness sake. COME TO MY HOUSE.

Five hours is an extravagant amount of sleep.
When Elsie was first born, she needed to be fed every two hours. Now, three months later, she needs to be fed every three to four hours. But sometimes, and if we're super lucky, at night even, she'll sleep for four or five hours. And then we'll get to sleep for four or five hours. It's amazing. I love it.

If she's crying anyway, I might as well have some fun.
Sometimes babies just cry. Uncontrollably. And there's nothing you can do to stop them. In these sorts of situations, I can do one of two things: internally scream as my brain implodes from the feral noises of my spawn, or be a dick to my daughter.

It's harmless, really. If I've done everything I can think of to calm her down and it isn't working, maybe I'll take the pacifier that she spits out every two seconds and poke her in the nose with it for a couple of minutes. Maybe I'll launch her in the air repeatedly, exclaiming, "To the moon!!" Maybe I'll pinch her nose so her screams become amusingly nasally. There are lots of things you can do to make a frustrating situation funny. If I'm not in the mood for any of that, though, it always helps to just go outside and clear my head.

Cuteness makes you forget.
Even though my life is way more stressful than it used to be, and Elsie produces all sorts of sounds, smells, and fluids that I don't particularly like, it's definitely worth it. I love my little girl so much. I love her little smile, her sassy eyebrows, and our babbling conversations. I'm so proud that she can already roll over, and every time she grabs something I think she's the smartest little nugget a father could ask for. I can't wait to see her grow up, and I'm grateful that I even get that opportunity.

We might adopt our next one though. ;)