Lessons Learned, Volume 1

So, I thought it would be beneficial to start jotting down lessons I have learned early in this parenthood game. Maybe it will help somebody out down the road. By somebody, I mean me, as my memory vaporizes a little more each day. Here goes:

1. Night time is a scary time. It's seriously like "I Am Legend". Your sweet child by day becomes and inconsolable she-devil by night. I have taken to calling my daughter, Gracie, "Horace" at night. This is partly because instead of crying she mostly grunts. And they are distinctive grunts. One in particular starts with a "N". It's really quite fascinating.

2. Diaper duty is sometimes an ambush. The second time I changed Gracie's diaper, she projectile pooped all over the changing table. My wife suggested that I have a diaper covering her whenever I'm not wiping or applying ointment. Fine. So, nine or ten more diaper changes occur without a hitch. So, of course, on that tenth or eleventh I don't have a diaper under her and she starts peeing like a mall fountain. This has happened several times. And every time, I start yelling "Oh God, she's pooping/peeing! Oh God, it's all over her onesie!" My wife, God bless her, tells me it's not a big deal and we quickly resolve the issue. Of course, the other night Gracie grunted and ambushed her with a flying poop. I'm beginning to think the hospital sent me home with an Improvised Explosive Device.

3. Learn quickly how your little one goes to sleep. Gracie has two ways, one laying on your chest, bunched up like a koala bear, and the other cradled in your left arm. But, both usually involve the application of a pacifier and definitely require 10 minutes of uninterrupted closed eyes. That is the most difficult part, especially when she's fighting sleep, she moves and loses her pacifier, or the dog barks. When confronted with these occurrences, I have tried to put her down before 10 minutes from when her eyes were last open, but deviating by even one minute will require you to start all over again. It's like Chutes and Ladders. Or defusing a bomb.

4. That for all the lack of sleep, screaming in your face, and spitting up on your clothes, it's all forgotten due to the one minute she will spend staring at me, fascinated. Whether wedged between my knees, on her changing table, or looking up at me before she falls asleep, it is the best feeling in the world exchanging unconditional love with your child.

I think Lesson 4 is the most pertinent. At some point soon, she's going to start laughing, scooting, and making noises that are the precursors to speech. The fascinating stares she gives us now are possibly more rewarding than all of these benchmarks. Because in this ocean of insanity, the brief moments of unconditional love are our lifeboats. Everyone keeps saying it's only going to get better, but I'd have to say that, for now, it's already pretty damn good.