New Dad

Participate in Groundbreaking NEW STUDY ON DADS

Will.Courtenay — Mon, 06 Jul 2009 08:50:52 -0700

I’m very pleased to announce a new study on fathers with babies. Information about the study is below. If you're eligible to participate, please do! It will only take 20 to 25 minutes to complete.

PLEASE FORWARD this information to any fathers' or men's organizations and web sites that you know, and to anyone who might have contact with dads who have kids under age 1. The direct link to the survey is below.

FATHERS WITH BABIES STUDY

Every day, in the United States alone, over 10,000 men become the fathers of new babies. Surprisingly little is known about the social and emotional experiences of fathers with babies and young children. In an interest to improve the well-being of new dads – and to foster the well-being of their children and families – the purpose of this study is to better understand the experiences of dads with babies, as well as the causes and consequences of the joys and challenges these fathers face.

ABOUT THE STUDY

This study is being conducted by Dr. Will Courtenay, in collaboration with the Center for Men and Young Men at McLean Hospital, Harvard Medical School. Dr. Courtenay is an internationally recognized researcher and scholar whose work focuses on understanding and helping men and fathers. Dr. Courtenay has served on the clinical faculty in the Department of Psychiatry at Harvard Medical School, and the University of California, San Francisco, Medical School.

Taking part in this study means completing an online survey. In the first part of the survey, you will be asked some background information about you and your baby. In the rest of the survey, you will be asked about experiences you’ve had as a father and with your spouse or partner, as well as your attitudes on a variety of topics. You will also be asked questions about your feelings and behaviors that relate to your moods. The survey should take about 20-25 minutes to complete.

The survey is completely anonymous. You will not be asked to identify yourself or provide any identifying information.

WHO SHOULD PARTICIPATE

For this study, we are interested in the participation of adult males over 18 years of age, who have had a baby (or babies) within the last year. If you are not an adult male over 18 years of age and have not had a baby (or babies) within the last year, thank you for your interest in the study, but please do not continue with the survey.

All fathers of babies are invited to participate, including fathers who have adopted, fathers who are gay, and fathers whose spouses or partners gave birth to their babies.

WHY YOU SHOULD PARTICIPATE

Fathers have an enormously positive impact on their babies and young children. We understand this from lots of good research. But the impact that babies have on their fathers, is relatively unknown. Your participation will help to generate a greater understanding of the experiences of dads with babies. We hope that, ultimately, this greater understanding will help foster the well-being of fathers, their children and their families as a whole.

ADDITIONAL INFORMATION

If you would like additional information about the study, or have questions about it, you can contact Dr. Will Courtenay at DadsStudy@MensDoc.com or go to www.TheMensDoc.com.

STUDY LINK

You can go to the survey by clicking on the following link:

https://www.psychdata.com/s.asp?SID=130274

Thank you!

Feeding Time

Philmundo — Thu, 07 May 2009 07:12:11 -0700

by Phil Stott

So I'm something of a food guy. I enjoy eating it, cooking it, reading about it and even watching TV shows about it. I'm someone whose list of life-goals includes shaping a future vacation around a visit to Ferran Adria's famed restaurant El Bulli in Spain (if you want to know why, it's all because of this review), and whose kitchen gadget wish list exceeds my annual income. I can spend all day at work thinking about what I'm making for dinner, and view weekends-at least in part-as an opportunity to get away from it all by stationing myself in the kitchen (or, weather permitting, over the grill). Like I said: something of a food guy.

Bearing all of that in mind I had some concerns for my palate when I first found out I was to become a parent (a little over two years ago). That's because, if becoming a parent is about sacrifice, food is one of the first areas where sacrifices have to be made-starting at the very outset of pregnancy and continuing for much longer if breast-feeding is in the picture. Out go many of the things that make eating fun: things like shellfish, sushi, blue cheese, rare steak, coffee, and much more (including alcohol). Sure, I was still able to eat and drink pretty much whatever I wanted, but with a pregnant/breast-feeding wife, the opportunity to do so just came around a lot less often. And since Maeve started eating "real" food, the challenge in making meals for the household has stepped up a notch.

Like so many other areas of parenting, though, there are a ton of resources out there that can help to provide for even the most demanding of palates (be they toddler or adult) and, from them, I've gleaned some good lessons.

It's a challenge, not a chore

Pregnant women and young children have one thing in common when it comes to food, and you just have to accept it: no matter what you do, sometimes they just don't want to eat anything. And sometimes they'll eat and then throw up. Neither of these is a reflection on your cooking, and neither should dissuade you from getting back in the kitchen and trying to find something they will enjoy. Back when Meghan first got pregnant, we tried several cookbooks for ideas. While most were good, this one was our favorite because of the way it staged the meals through the pregnancy cycle, while some of the dishes in it were so good that they're still in our regular rotation.

"Ethnic" food is still on the table

Get mad cravings for your favorite dish at your local Indian restaurant? Looking to branch out beyond your usual repertoire but afraid because the different cuisine might not be suitable for the kids? Give it a try anyway. To date, we've hauled Maeve along to a variety of restaurants and fed her from our plates, without having to venture into chicken finger territory. Here's the tip: ask the server for something appropriate for a child that an adult would also eat. (Example: Indian biryani comes with the curry on the side. And Korean restaurants are particularly kid friendly.)

"Cook for a day, eat for a week"

OK, let's overlook the fact that the above quote was taken from a book called French Women Don't Get Fat. And let's definitely not go anywhere near the fact that the reason it's in my house is because I bought it as a gift for my wife.* Let's focus instead on the meat of the quote, and the message of the whole book-that the key to a healthy lifestyle is to do everything in moderation, and that eating healthy, home-cooked food doesn't have to mean hours in the kitchen and piles of dishes to wash every day. Example: once every couple of weeks, I make a lentil, carrot and random vegetable puree for Maeve-sometimes with cheese through it. An hour of cooking (and less than 15 minutes of actual work) makes around 10 portions for her. It's healthy, it's cheap, and she loves it.

Whatever the circumstances, and no matter how large my family may grow, I can't foresee a point in my future where I'll stop being interested in exploring food. Bearing that in mind, there's no time like the present to start introducing Maeve to some different flavors, colors and textures. By doing it now, I'm hoping to open up a whole world of great meals to come-for her and me!

-----------------------------------------
* OK, just to prove I'm not a complete jerk: It was NOT any kind of veiled commentary or suggestion. Meghan saw it featured on Oprah and was intrigued by the theory behind it. As far as I'm concerned, that makes me thoughtful for remembering-not to mention brave!

Not So Savvy

Philmundo — Tue, 27 Jan 2009 11:55:56 -0800

by Phil Stott

I don't know if this is the best time to be writing a Savvy Daddy post or not. It's 7:30 in the morning, and I've just started the daily commute from my house in the boonies. With any luck, it should, hopefully, get me to work by 9:00. Having woken up at 5:45, I somehow still had a fully-stressed, headless chicken kind of affair to get out of the house on time to catch my train-a situation not helped by an extremely mobile almost-toddler intent on pulling the contents from every drawer and cupboard in the kitchen even as my wife and I were bagging lunches and trying to get breakfast on the go. Then, to top it all off, just as I'm preparing to go into de-stress mode (i.e. pull my computer out to do 10 minutes of work before falling asleep on the train), I drop my travel mug and spill coffee all over everything-the train, my clothes, the computer, even the bag of leftover holiday treats I'm taking to work to foist on my colleagues. Already it's been a hell of a day. Oh, and did I mention I turned 30 two days ago?

Whatever else I pictured at this point in my life (which seemed impossibly old a few years ago, but kinda young now that I've arrived at it), the mental image I had was of someone slightly classier and more put together. The kind of guy who goes to work in an impeccably pressed suit (I'm in jeans and a sweater), who never forgets anything, doesn't ever leave work feeling vaguely guilty that he could have done more, doesn't fall asleep on the way to and from work every single day and who never, ever, ever spills his coffee on himself or the (thankfully) empty seat next to him before realizing he doesn't have anything to wipe it up with except his glove-something he kinda needs, given the 20 degree temperatures in New York today and which, given the fact that it's leather, makes a lousy wiping rag anyway. In short, I pictured myself more like a character from Mad Men-only, y'know, without the implicit alcoholism or constant philandering-than, say, the sort of bumbling oaf that's present in almost every sitcom that features a husband/dad.

All of that's set me to wondering, though. I'm writing for Savvy Daddy at a time when I've rarely felt less savvy in my life. Despite knowing better, my parenting skills this morning amounted to repeatedly saying "no, no, no, no, no" every time Maeve went near one of the drawers or cupboards. And I'll confess that, now I think about it, there was kind of an exasperated tone in my voice at times-something I'm not sure she picked up on (she went on playing happily anyway and kept coming back for more), but that I feel guilty about now nonetheless.

So here's the thing: is there a difference between being a savvy man and a savvy daddy? Obviously there are different skills involved in living your workaday life and being a parent, but where's the crossover? Does being a successful, put-together kind of a guy in the personal and professional sphere have any correlation with being a good parent? Or does being too put-together prevent you from being a good parent? (It's hard to go with the child-rearing flow if you're worried about the state of your hardwood floors, or about getting fingerprints on your plasma screen.) And, perhaps most importantly, all these questions remind me of a Carrie Bradshaw-style opening monologue in Sex and the City. What does knowing that reference say about me and my savviness? Definitely plenty to ponder for my commute this evening, if I can stay awake long enough. Who knows, maybe I'll go all Mad Men tonight and grab a G&T on the platform in Penn Station to take on the train...at least if I spill that it'll get the coffee smell out of my jeans!

Take your advice and …

Philmundo — Fri, 19 Dec 2008 22:39:01 -0800

By Phil Stott

My wife took my daughter to the grocery store, and got reprimanded for her parenting by a complete stranger, which infuriated me, and led me to consider: what's the best way to deal with an interfering busybody (however well-meaning)? And just where the hell do they get off anyway?

Thus far in our parenting careers, my wife and I have received exactly four pieces of unwanted information from random strangers, and every single time it's been in the supermarket. That's once every three months on average, provided no one else assails us between now and Maeve's birthday at the end of the month. What it is about our parenting skills that compel someone to interrupt their shopping to pronounce judgment on us is beyond me - our "offences" to date have included:

- Not having her in a sweater (granted, the store was over-air-conditioned, but it was 95 outside, not an unreasonable temperature for not having a sweater in the diaper bag).

- Having her sockless (again in summer). Because having an infant in socks for more than 45 seconds is completely do-able.

- Giving her our keys to play with to stop her from screaming the store down - not something we do on a regular basis (there's a lot of monitoring to make sure she doesn't try to eat them), but sometimes it's the only thing that works.

Looking at the list of offences, there's one common thread - not having enough junk in the diaper bag - that probably could have prevented all three instances. Having said that, the reality of parenting, at least for me, is that we spend our lives running around doing all the things we forgot to do yesterday while forgetting what we were supposed to do today. Assuming that anyone with the gall to offer unsolicited advice on a subject is presumably an expert (i.e. a parent or childcare specialist), wouldn't you think they'd recognize that and just cut you some slack?

Anyway, it seems like the person sticking their nose in where it isn't even remotely wanted is likely to be more or less a constant for the foreseeable future, so the question then becomes: how do we deal with it?

It seems to me that there's a sliding scale of appropriateness in terms of reaction, with my initial instinct tending towards the less polite end of it. Thankfully, I haven't been in the immediate vicinity on most of the occasions, so my two favorite words haven't been aired in public quite yet - and for the sake of an easy life, I have no desire for that ever to happen. With that in mind, I had a long think (and canvassed some friends) regarding what might be termed "more appropriate verbiage" in business-speak. Here are some of the best suggestions I garnered:

1) It occurs to me that just accepting the advice (or pretending to) might be a viable option, ruling out any potential conflict. Saying something like "You're absolutely right. Normally we'd have a sweater handy, but we only popped in for milk." Not my favorite suggestion, as I'm not in the habit of justifying my actions to a complete stranger, but definitely likely to diffuse an awkward situation.
2) A friend, meanwhile, agrees with me on the psychological satisfaction that comes with a decent brush-off, but has developed a more appropriate manner of delivering it. Basically, she pays the person scant attention and says something like "Thank you. She's fine." Short, to the point, and with the added benefit of pointing out that, yes, you do know what your kid's up to, and are aware of how to take care of them.
3) Further along the scale, another friend admitted that he once opted for the slightly more aggressive "If I'd wanted your advice, I'd have asked for it." The result? Stunned silence, and fleeting satisfaction, but a guilt trip at a later date. Probably best to reserve this one for the dealing with the rudest of the rude.
4) At the very end of the scale, the best lines are the ones you know you'll never use. In my head, I have a retort that goes something like "Thanks for your concern, I guess we just got so caught up in teaching her how rude it is to offer advice to complete strangers that we totally forgot to put her hat on."

Still, I'm pretty sure that there are some other ideas out there about how best to deal with the busybody (both tried and tested, and lurking in the recesses of the imagination). Feel free to share your best suggestions and war stories below.

Lessons from the first year

Philmundo — Wed, 10 Dec 2008 17:04:44 -0800

By Phil Stott

My daughter Maeve turns one this week, and I thought I'd take the opportunity to sum up some of the best tips, advice and things I've learned about parenting in general since my life ceased to revolve around me.

1) Breast feeding is nature's gift to fathers. Really. Take two modern-day dads and put them side by side, and I'll pick the one with the bottle-fed child immediately. He's the one with bags under his eyes from the through-the-night feedings. The other one, well, the most he's had to do is bring baby to the owner of the hardware before drifting back into sweet oblivion. For the same reason, breast pumps are evil (just kidding!).

2) Always keep a selection of toys and books close at hand at diaper-changing time. Anything, in short, that will encourage your child to lie flat on their back and not attempt to crawl off the edge of the pad before you've had a chance to clean up the aftermath of the jar of prunes you fed them because they seemed "backed-up."

3) Leave them alone. Not literally, obviously, but if your child's content playing by him or herself, leave them to it. Last weekend, I lay on the couch and watched Maeve pull her socks off and play with them for 45 minutes ... well it seemed like 45 minutes anyway. Maybe it was five, but it was at least five where I did nothing but observe.

4) Making baby food is not difficult: there are lots of recipes that can be made in a single pot and then pureed in a food processor. It's cheap and you get the added peace of mind of knowing exactly what's in their food.

5) Most convenience stores sell nothing a baby can eat. Except, if you're lucky, overripe bananas.

6) Strangers in grocery stores will offer parenting advice on a regular basis. While exceptionally rude, being rude back fixes nothing. Apart from your sense of satisfaction.

7) There is nowhere to change a diaper in New York City. The Midwest, yes. Europe, everywhere. But when in the Big Apple - try your luck in a five star hotel. Some of those posh bathrooms have couches that can double as changing tables. Plus, no-one will tell you they're for customers only, and there's a much higher chance they'll be clean.

8) 7:30 is a lie-in. No, really.

9) An instruction booklet is nowhere near as helpful as a neighbor with three kids when it comes to installing a car seat for the first time.

10) There's too much advice out there to pay attention to all of it. Doctors in the U.S. tell you not to introduce X,Y and Z foods until your child is a year, while in Europe the same foods are part of a child's diet from 6 months on. Do your best to stay informed, but trust your instincts (and for at least the first year stay away from honey [botulism - who knew?], sushi and, uh, Chinese formula).

11) As parents, we are doomed to a life of continually finding out why the things our parents did made sense, and what a great job they actually did in raising us.

12) Just when you think you've got it down, everything changes. Kid sleeping through the night? Give it a week or two and you'll be getting up at 4 a.m. Eating solids? Expect them to start spitting them out any day now. The good news is that it works both ways. Kid waking up at 4? Give it a week or two.

13) Children are not nearly as expensive as they‘re cracked up to be. No-one needs even half the stuff on display in those big box retailers, and the difference between the top of the line items and the less expensive ones often comes down to a label. The same goes when registering; baby registries are just like wedding registries -- designed to get money into the store rather than stuff you need (or even like) into your own home. My rule of thumb here is "if it had been available, would my parents have used it?" The vast majority of the time, the answer comes back "no".

14) Nothing is too extreme for getting a crying baby to sleep. Maeve used to need to be swung in her car seat, while I've heard of other parents driving their kids around until they drop off. Others, meanwhile, seek out cobblestones for the roughest stroller ride imaginable. In short, if it works, do it (as long as it's safe, obviously).

15) No matter what fatherhood (or life) throws at you, good or bad, "all things must come to an end, and this too shall pass."

Traditional Thanksgiving

silly_sad_machine — Wed, 26 Nov 2008 07:11:21 -0800

by silly_sad_machine

It's Thanksgiving in our part of the world, and for me it marks the first time in my life I've ever felt like an official adult - a man.

I'm 29, and for the last nine years I couldn't call myself a real adult. It just didn't make sense. I felt too much like I was still that kid in high school or that guy in college. In no way did I conform to any of the traits that I observed in the "adult" men in my life; I didn't own land or cattle, I didn't have any kids, I never balanced a checkbook or paid any taxes, and I didn't fall asleep in front of the warm glow of the Weather Channel. Hell, I still played video games and listened to groovecore. I was still in a band. I still played D&D with my friends.

Some things have certainly changed in the last few years, though. I graduated college, for one, and tossed myself into the workforce. Got a taste of Corporate America, got paid an embarrassingly low wage, became a statistic - you know the story. I started dating my little sister's best friend, as well (at my sister's behest), and found out my soul mate was not some stranger I had yet to meet but a girl from my past who had grown to become a woman. We got married in a fairly large ceremony that the two of us planned, and we moved to a new city to begin our life together.

But there are three things that have changed in my life that make me feel like a real man this Thanksgiving. And while you gnaw on your turkey leg or sit bloated and beached in your easy chair, I offer you these things that I am thankful for.

I am a father - Last July my wife gave me the greatest gift I've ever received, aside from our marriage: my daughter. Everyone says having a child changes your life, but becoming a father is no overnight transition. It's taken the better part of my daughter's 16 months for me to discover what it means to be a father (I think I've boiled it down to abject devotion, unexplainable worry and beaming pride) but I know I'll spend the rest of her life refining that understanding. Regardless, I am thankful for this: last Thanksgiving I was a husband with a baby, and this Thanksgiving I am a father.

I am a homeowner - About four years ago my grandmother made me the sole heir of my family's ancestral homestead. A plot of land and a smattering of houses in the rolling hills of the Midwest, the inheritance is the product of 50 years of work by my grandparents, great-grandparents and a collection of grand and great-grand aunts and uncles. My grandmother passed away a few years ago, and after an extended occupancy by some extended family, "the Hill" finally came under my control. In August my wife, daughter and I moved in, and I am this Thanksgiving thankful for my warm fireplace, the foresight and hard work of my elders, and for the fact that my daughter is growing up in the same house that I did.

I am a part of the majority - This is by far one of the most prominent reasons that I now feel like a man. During my teens and early 20s, I wasn't involved in politics or national affairs primarily because I didn't feel like anyone cared about me. The government was a place where old people made sure that America catered to other old people. Even in 2004, after decades of presidential administrations run by aging white men, the DNC offered John Kerry ... another aging white man. But this election, however, has proven to me that we are not a nation of scared Baby Boomers or angry fire-and-brimstone senior citizens. We are a country of Blackberry users, a country of first-person-shooters, MySpace friends and Starbucks Wi-Fi users. Generation X has taken the reins of our culture, and for that I am most certainly thankful.

A tale of two children

Philmundo — Thu, 20 Nov 2008 17:16:48 -0800

By Phil Stott

So it turns out that my kid's a nightmare. Well, at least in comparison to my brother-in-law's almost-eleven-month-old daughter anyway. A month younger than Maeve, she also happens to be an exceptionally docile creature.

I met her for the first time last Thursday when my wife's brother, and his wife, came out to New York to visit us. Despite having waited in the rain at a train station for at least five minutes following a 30-minute train ride from the airport and a five-hour flight from Phoenix, she didn't melt down when I arrived to pick them up. Maeve? Not so much-not a big fan of strangers, she takes a long time to warm up to new people, especially men.

The next step was the car ride home. Maeve is at the stage where we pretty much drive around with the same song on repeat in order to keep her calm (Coldplay's Viva La Vida, since you ask-she seems to like the intro). On good days, she'll fall asleep, or play with something long enough to forget that she hates her car seat. On bad days, you don't even want to know. But Maeve's cousin? Smiled as she was put in the seat, babbled a bit, fell asleep until we got home, didn't even cry when we woke her up taking her inside. No music required.

Initially, I put the even-tempered performance down to the fact that she was tired from traveling and being on a plane (completely ignoring how Maeve reacts to tiredness), but over the course of the weekend the gulf in personalities showed up so often that it became difficult to ignore. When the two girls were playing together, it was Maeve who consistently stole her cousin's toys, and yelled whenever something was taken away from her. It seems like it was always Maeve who had to be told to be gentle, to give something back, to share (all fairly abstract concepts for a not-quite-one year old, I know, but you have to start somewhere, especially when your kid's the tyrant and the other's parents are right there).

Not to belabor the point, it was also Maeve who was responsible for my wife and I alternating shifts bolting food at the table and standing outside with the stroller and an arsenal of toys at a Manhattan tapas restaurant. Her cousin, aunt and uncle, meanwhile, got to enjoy its warmth and comfort in full (for the 20 minutes it took us to scarf the meal and chug the wine we'd ordered, that is), the way one can when a baby sits contentedly in a high chair. And did I mention that she's so quiet they can take her to the movies?

I have no idea if there's a reason behind the differences in behavior, or if it's just the vagaries of fortune. I've contemplated the idea that it's something to do with the difference between breast and bottle feeding (Maeve gets the former, her cousin the latter since she was four months old), but that seems an unlikely conclusion-not to mention a deeply unscientific one to reach off a population sample of two. I'm pretty sure that it's not a question of discipline at this age either. Maybe it's the difference in climate between Phoenix and New York, or just that being a New Yorker, however young, gives one what might be called an edge.

Whatever it is, I do know a couple of things for certain. First, no matter how she behaves from time to time, in this father's eyes no kid will ever be better than Maeve, more fun to be around, or more loved. And the second thing also happens to be the best bit of parenting advice I've come across to date in my short career: this too shall pass. That was the thought that crossed my mind as I drove away from the airport after dropping the relatives for their flight home. One that was followed, naturally, by the fervent hope that we'll get revenge in the well-behaved baby stakes. My fingers are already crossed for some retribution during the terrible twos!

Being our fathers

silly_sad_machine — Tue, 11 Nov 2008 08:20:24 -0800

By silly_sad_machine

Being the product of a deceased biological father and a sole step-father, I have a unique perspective when it comes to the whole nature versus nurture thing. On the one hand, my real father died when I was two and I have no memory of him. My step-father, however, has been my father since I can remember, and his presence as the main male authority in my life has certainly had its effect on me.

I grew up on my step-father's farm. Although I spent a lot of my youth in front of any of various post-Atari game consoles, I was no stranger to the toils of manual labor. We built fence, worked cattle, hauled hay, drove grain trucks and cut wood. Summer was the worst time of year for working, and even though I loathed every minute of it then, I think back on it now with nothing but fondness. I didn't really know it at the time, but my father's work-centered perspective and the tasks he put me to, constructed the foundation for the way I feel about work and responsibility today.

But I also share a wide variety of traits with my biological father. I inherited his love for music and his fondness for guitar. I am also told that I have his sense of humor, his attention to detail, his love of learning, his gift at fatherhood and his romantic side. I'm always amazed to hear new stories of what my father was like, to hear how much like me he really was.

In my case, the argument ends in a direct tie; give two points each to nature and nurture. There is no clear winner, because there is no one method of passing on genetic and behavioral traits. We can see the evidence for nature everywhere we look: in genes, in physical appearance and in personalities. But it's obvious that nurture also plays a key role in social development.

When I raise my daughter, I have two different fathers to hold myself up to. It's my step-father's everyday temperament that I find myself falling into, but I see my real father in my interactions with her, as well. Most guys try to avoid becoming their fathers, and here I'm trying to become them both.

How are savvydads weighing in on this issue? Are we becoming our fathers? Are we dreading it like the plague but seeing it happen anyway? If we can see our fathers in ourselves, how much of that are we passing onto our own kids? What's the deal with being destined to be the Old Man?

Talking leads to marriage

silly_sad_machine — Tue, 04 Nov 2008 08:51:18 -0800

by silly_sad_machine

My daughter has a vocabulary of more than 50 words.

I’d never have believed it was so high if my wife hadn’t written them all down. Trotting around the house with my 15-month-old, you only get small glimpses of her lexicon. At any given point she only tosses around five or six words. She’ll point out something she sees, like a book or a toy, and call it out to you as if asking a question. “We’ve been calling this one a ‘ball.’ Is that still right?”

But seeing them all written down, all neat and orderly in a list that dropped off the bottom of the page and jumped into a new column … it was staggering. I saw words that I recognized, like “Da-da” (her first) and “Ma-ma,” or “yeah” and “more.” Some she can pronounce clearly, like “toy,” “door” and “up.” Others she has a bit of trouble with. “House” and “outside” sound exactly the same, like an exaggerated “how.” She can’t quite wrap her mouth around “c” sounds yet, and her “pancake” just comes out “pa-pa,” like a machine gun.

A father friend of mine told me once to treasure the first few months of my daughter’s life. “She’ll never be like this again,” he said. And he was right. In those first months she was totally dependent upon me. She couldn’t walk, she couldn’t talk … she couldn’t even support her own head. She was fragile and defenseless, and she relied on me for everything. And when I held her, she melted on my shoulder as content as she’ll ever be in her entire life.
It’s fairly obvious why evolution favored humans with shorter pregnancies. Our newborns could be like sharks – ready to take on the world before the placenta is even dry – but that’s not very romantic. Sharks must not have an affinity for warm fuzzies.

“She’ll never be like this again.” I can say it every day for the rest of my life, and it will be true every single time. Tomorrow she’ll get better at saying one of her words, and her mind will create a hundred or so brand-new connections. The day after that she’ll learn a new word, figure out how to climb onto our hearth, and see something she’s never seen before. Before I know it, she’ll be in school, she’ll learn about death, she’ll want a driver’s license and she’ll be getting married. And watching her put on her gown, I’ll remember the day I taught her how to say “squeeze,” and I’ll remember how when she said it, it just sounded like a high-pitched squeal. “Eeeeee!”

My daughter is a new baby girl every time she wakes up. I suppose the only way to deal with that is to remember that every time she wakes up, I’m a new dad, too.

White Dad, African-American Son

tobyalan82 — Tue, 21 Oct 2008 18:19:00 -0700

I am a "new dad" to our 5 year old foster son, Cameron. He just came last week but is adapting very well to our family. I am white and Cameron is African-American. I am wondering if anyone else has experience in this (any races) and if there is anything I should be doing differently. My wife & I aren't treating him any differently than our other children, but should we be? What should I be doing to help him stay in tune with his culture?