Parenting 101

(From the Blue Stone Press column “Dear Wally” Oct, 2008)
Dear Wally-
You are a recent father. What do you like most about your baby:
-JR
Dear JR- I like the size of my baby girl’s head. It’s the perfect little cantaloupe. I like the smell of her head, too. It smells like organic almond oil and Burt’s talc-free corn starch. It also smells like my lips. If she goes bald, it’s because I’ve worn down a spot on the top from over-kissing it. I like seeing her nurse and then drift one eye cautiously to me as I hover over and her mother tries to shoo me, a distracting agent, away. She’s inspecting me, this baby, checking me out with tentative approval, yet mostly focused on the immediate task of eating and maternal comfort. I like the way she rocks up on all fours on the bedspread and jerks back and forth to the satellite radio’s Bob Marley station when she’s happy. (We call this dance the “Hootchie Momma”. We will unlearn it before college). I like the way her chunky little feet poke through warm terrycloth leg holes and wiggle at the new day. And the look of complete sensory overload when we lower her into a tepid bath and she doesn’t quite know if today she likes it or not. I like the way she shoves everything into her mouth, maybe because that’s what I do. And the way she grabs the phone and flings it off the desk and across the room with those bionically strong fingers that look like miniature ears of corn from the Chinese restaurant. (Did she learn this from me and a recent encounter with a so called Verizon ‘customer service’ representative? Nope. I felt like doing it but didn’t).
I like how she’s startled by her own actions. Must be a curious thing to be startled by the newness of your actions…Or that she can nap from 4-5. Or any time she damn well pleases. That’s pretty neat. I like how she has a homing device in her hand that guides her to my eyeglasses no matter how dark it is, no matter if she’s even looking my direction. I like how she bops me on the nose and eagerly awaits my verbal ‘honk.’ It’s a game we play and conditioned response for us both now. I especially like how she throws her arms around my neck already before she even knows it’ll get her anything she wants. It’s one of my favorite things ever, ever in this entire world. I like how she can curl up in my arms and drift off to sleep, no matter the noise. And how she gets tired of me typing at my computer and starts demanding attention by smacking the keys. Like this:kjsdhkvhfqhoincvwjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj.
I like the raw ambition she has for movement. And that the energy she expends to stand upright, a goal of the highest consequence, conks her out so thoroughly. What focus! What efficiency! I like the miniaturization of fingernails, which before we clean them have the telltale signs of hard play, not hard work. I like how she squeals with unabashed delight when I lift her above my head and play airplane. The exhilaration of being suspended off the ground is almost too much for her. I also like how a family laugh, which starts off sounding like a cardboard box being dragged on a barn floor by a mule team, skipped 2 generations from my own paternal grandfather and landed in her body. I’ve missed it all these years since his death. If you tickle her just right, you can get two dimples at once. And if you miss, you get a scowl. I like seeing her so happy in her mother’s arms, safe and sound. I like the triangulation she has allowed our family. I even like changing her diaper because it means she’ll feel better when I‘m done and I’ll have done my part to help ruin another landfill. I like that she’s not afraid of our dogs or our horses, and instead considers them as natural as a sunny day.
I like watching her try to eat an apple, gumming it and savoring it for the brand new sharp flavor and curious texture it offers. I like that her favorite ‘toy’ is my guitar which I play for her every day that I can. I like that she tries to eat the books we read her. I can brag and say she’s a voracious consumer of literature and not be lying. I like that she and I look like we’ve just been in the world’s most successful (and fun!) food fight after every meal I feed her. I like that she wails for us when we hand her off to a babysitter. I like that it only lasts a moment until she realizes she’s ok and there’s lots to do and experience. I like that she’s so young and that her sense of wonderment is pure and primal. Same with her sense of exploration and trust.
What I don’t like is that that sneaky bastard time has just left the building with my credit card, car keys and a snicker.
-Wally
(Got a question that needs answering or baby’s head that needs smoochin’? Contact our advice columnist at cwn4@aol.com)