Welcome to the First Stall!

Yes, those are my feet you see under the little metal door. What am I doing? Well, the first thing should be pretty obvious. The second, though, may suprise you. I am sitting there with my notebook and a pen, writing down the crazy random thoughts that are floating around in my head. Then, at a later point, I type them up and these posts appear. Be warned, the subject matter and language may be a bit raw, but as long as you are not too sensitive, I am sure you will enjoy them. If you have a Facebook Account you can go my page https://www.facebook.com/NonWisdomFromTheFirstStall, Like it and get some extra content.

Wednesday, November 26, 2014

On weathering the Sh*t Storm



I don't know if I blocked it out of my head after my daughter was born but how can so much shit come out of something so tiny? As my son hits one month old I have to marvel at the sheer number of diapers that we have gone through in this short amount of time. I have been thinking of advising my wife to just strap the diapers directly to her breast and skip the middleman or, should I say, middlebaby.

I have had this kid poop three times in the middle of changing one diaper. Let me paint the picture for you (insert brown paint joke here): The boy is either finishing eating or sleeping quietly after a feeding. And let me just add, does he ever stop eating? (I see a correlation!) You suddenly hear the sound of his diaper filling (well, not quite filling, but you get the point.) At first my wife and I pretend like we didn't hear it, hoping the other will take care of it. In this example, I decide to cave first and take care of it, because I am just a nice guy (and my wife is much better at pretending nothing happened than me... haha, just kidding!) I get the boy and slowly peel back the diaper, let some air hit the little guy's little yellow water cannon, so it doesn't turn into one. Once the coast is clear, I put the new diaper underneath, and quickly pull out the dirty one. Then I wipe the bottom and in mid-wipe, more poop starts coming out. So I wait and give it a minute or so. Then get another diaper, wipe again and toss the dirty diapers away and seal the new one. Then I go ahead and zip, button, screw, velcro, snap, whatever is required to get his clothes back on and pick him up. He looks at me, gives me the middle finger and unleashes another fecal storm into the new diaper. That's when I scream, then cry a little bit and leave him in a messy diaper for the next three days just to teach him a lesson. Just kidding, I only left him in the messy diaper for two days. Just kidding again (my son cannot give the middle finger yet and I would not leave any baby in a dirty diaper for very long... the scream and the tears--100% true.)

Now this scenario does not happen every time but it has occurred, unfortunately, more than once. And while I am talking about poop, I remember the first time with my daughter there was definitely a lot of concern about the shape, size, color, texture of every poop that she created. They even gave us a chart on what different poops signified. Though they did not give us a chart this time, we were still required to do poop augury. My daughter had wonderful, Dijon mustard colored poo for most of her first months, yet my son's has been greenish. Uh oh.... to the Internet!

Let me just go off on a little tangent and say that the worst thing any new parent should do is look for answers to medical questions on the Internet. You go to one of the big MD sites and type in your symptoms, or concerns and you get, the most probable causes, which is good... but then you make the mistake of continuing to reading. At the bottom of the list of possible issues are the rare one-in-a-million-chance diseases that are placed there to scare the living crap out of you (especially when your child has all of the symptoms!) But then again, you also tend to start Jelly Bellying the situation. This is a term that I use for when your mind starts making up stuff based on an implanted suggestion, for example, someone hands you a Jelly Belly jelly bean candy and asks you what flavor it is. You chew, and chew and can't figure out what it is... until the person who gave you the candy says what flavor it is and you instantly taste the flavor. You start seeing symptoms that aren't there and you slowly head down that road to panic and wasteful doctor visits. (Unless your child has the crazy rare one in a million disease... then I am just an ass.) Enough of this, back to the poop!

The green poop (according to both the Internet and poop charts--yes, they are out there, just Google newborn poop chart and see what you get) we believe is an allergy and my wife is pretty sure it is dairy based. God help her (she is a better person than me) since she has decided to cut all dairy out of her diet. I will say, that since she has stopped, the poop has gone to Dijon mustard color (and it was mucusy as well, but that cleared up too) so my wife was/is probably right (am I surprised?) I know that she really hopes that she is wrong, because she is really dying for some cheese, real half and half for her coffee, and lots of other dairy-based foods that I will not describe in detail. (after all, she does edit these posts for me so that would just be cruel.)

I know that the shit storm will eventually end and my son will start pooping normally. Normally will, however, be a double-edged sword. Less diapers, awesome! We will save some time, money and sanity.  But as the frequency of downloads decreases, the smell will start to increase. Right now all of our garbage cans are quickly filling up with dirty diapers, but there is no smell. Hooray! Like all storms, this one will die down and eventually end. I know my wife and I will get through it, as we are an excellent team and work well together, and besides, we have done it before. Though, to be honest, despite my whining, at least the poop does not have the range of his pee. After a couple of near misses, he finally got me this morning, a glancing blow on the hand. Could have been worse!

Saturday, November 15, 2014

On doing it one last time!




I have been away from the Blog for a while so let's try to jump right in. My wife and I just had our second child and all I can say is... what the hell were we thinking? Do not think for a second that I regret the decision or that I in any way do not care for my shiny new son, but as I rapidly approach the 44th anniversary of escaping my mother's womb, I have to say I have a lot of concerns.

Let me state again that I am going to be 44 years old. (Wait, let's throw an exclamation point on that.) 44 years old! Now, I do not think that I am in any way some ancient relic fathering children (like Michael Douglas?) But being 43 right now, it does feel like I should have been out of this game a while ago. People I went to high school with are sending kids to college (some even have grand kids) and I am just starting out again with a newborn. But that is what you get when you get re-married later in life (and an attractive wife). 

To be honest, I feel fine now and my trepidation is not about the present. I sometimes find it hard to believe that I am in my forties. It is just I keep fast-forwarding in my head to 15 years in the future, seeing myself trying to play basketball with my kids, and being worried about throwing my hip out. I picture me cheering on my kids at a sporting event, waving my little four-legged walking stick with the tennis balls on the feet. When my daughter turns 18 years old, I will be 58 years old. That means I will be over 60 when my son turns 18. I know these are just numbers but my side of the family is not known for its longevity. My dad died at age 45, but the one thing I have on him is the fact that I have gone regularly to the doctor over the years and have been taking care of my health.

I know I am being ridiculous but these are the thoughts that I have. They do not weigh me down and I am not fixated on them, but they do sit at the back of my mind. Everyone says that kids will keep you young, and I do believe this, but this seems like it can only work for so long. It will get to the point where no matter how old you "feel," your body ages normally. You can only put it off for so long. I just want to be around long enough to see my kids grow up and be happy.  

Now that I have got my whining out, let me contradict everything I just wrote, because despite the bitching, I am very glad that we decided to have one more child. Part of this may be because my ex-wife decided to pick up and move to Virginia (me being in upstate New York, on the off chance that someone who doesn't know me personally actually reads this), so my three children from my first marriage, who were once a tornado of energy in my house every other weekend, are now just a twice a week phone call (this will be a complete other story for another time). The new baby has helped fill a large whole in my life that the other kids left when they moved. This isn't to say that my three-year-old daughter is chopped liver (if you enjoy that sort of thing), but the new baby has been a major distraction, especially with how much direct care he requires.

My three-year-old has always been special to me in that she was the first child that I had a direct hand in raising (and the first that I got to go through the entire pregnancy with). My first three children were adopted and as I have mentioned in other posts, my ex really treated me like the fourth child so I didn't really have a large hand in raising them (or at least I didn't feel that I did). After the divorce, she made an even greater effort at keeping me from interacting with the kids, but again, that is a whole different post. Now I have a new child to raise with a woman who values and respects me, which is amazing.

Also, it is very nice to have a matching set of kids. We got the boy and the girl now, so there is balance in the house. It will prove to be more expensive, as now we cannot take advantage of my daughter's hand-me-downs, though maybe I should use them anyway. No need to start asserting gender roles on him.

My daughter now has someone to grow up with as well. Being someone who grew up with a sibling that was close in age (my brother is one year older than me), I know the value of having a playmate throughout your life. (And of course, there will be no fighting or competition or anything negative like this... lol.) My three-year-old will also have someone to boss around, and with the older kids moved away, no one to boss her around. I think she might make out the best in this deal.

No matter how much I worry about the future, I will not let it affect the present. I now have a new beautiful baby boy that I will shower with love and attention--a brand new kid to try and turn into a powerful nerd like me, and yet another child to take care of me and my wife when we get older. Now that my wife has gotten her tubes tied, he is also the last child, and I'm okay with that (and so is my wife!)