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fatherhood

because I said so

May 4th, 2009
by Jim Reverend.
2 comments

“Because I said so” is one of those phrases every child hates. As an adult and now as a parent, I’m not sure I like it much more.

Celeste has a true mind of her own these days. If you tell her not to do something, she’ll do it again while giving you a stare down. If you tell her not to touch something, she’ll lick it instead. If you tell her not to lick something, she puts the whole thing in her mouth.

something to consider

something to consider

All of this has led me to wonder why it is I tell her “no” in the first place. Sure, licking the oil slick that forms under the cars in some of the driveways in my neighborhood makes perfect sense. Nothing really to question there. I understand the concept of certain chemical death, and she simply does not.

But take yesterday evening for example. I had a long day, a lot of driving, and I have a sinus infection that’s really kicking my ass. So, all in all, I just didn’t (still don’t, really) feel good. We had already gone outside a few times and I knew it was likely that after a few minutes of being outside she’d just want to come back inside, yet she was asking to go again. So I said “no”. And then I considered it.

Why not? “Because I said so” isn’t good enough when I’m answering myself. “Because I don’t feel like it” is certainly more accurate, but is that really fair? In the end, I opened the door, walked the 20 feet, tops, it takes to get to my front porch, and sat down and enjoyed the evening air. In the end, it was better than being inside.

Then she decided she wanted to play in the dirt. I started to say “no” and caught myself. Why not? If she gets really dirty (and yeah, she did) she’d need a change of clothes and probably a bath. But, she could use a bath anyway and it’s not like I had planned for her to sleep in the clothes she’s wearing. Yeah, it’s a little more work for me. But I hadn’t planned on doing anything anyway. So in the end, I let her. She made little piles of dirt all over the porch that I’ll eventually sweep back into the flower beds with no harm done. She got so much dirt in her hair I had to wash it twice to get the little specs to step clinging to her head beneath her hair. But, most importantly, she loved it.

I got out of the house and got some fresh air. We both laughed so hard together as she moved piles of dirt around the porch with a fork. I really enjoyed myself, the fresh air, and her constant smile.

So, once again, through my daughter who is not even a year an a half old, I’m learning some adult lessons that make me a better, happier, freer person. In this case the lesson is this:

Sometimes our first reaction is not the best reaction. Question yourself often.

And also:

Doing something is almost always better than doing nothing, even if it will require cleanup.

day one?

Apr 8th, 2009
by Jim Reverend.
8 comments

(I can’t keep track of what’s supposed to be a secret anymore and what isn’t. Or maybe I just don’t care enough anymore to keep track. All I know is I hate writing in LiveJournal these days, so, this is public.)

I’ve been up since 5am, cleaning, paying bills, and doing chores. I’ve got about 15 minutes free before I have to rush to take a shower, get dressed, get Celeste up, feed her, rush her to daycare and get to work. And I’ve decided to spend them with you. Awww, ain’t that sweet.

Jess moved out this past weekend. Her place is very nice. I was worried about what kind of apartment one could find for what Jess can afford but, it’s actually quite nice and I feel very confident that Jess and Celeste will be safe there.

I got another surprise (to me, not to Jess) visit from my Father-In-Law. He helped make sure Jess was on her feet and I certainly can’t fault him for that, I’d do the same. I’m still not sure why it had to be a secret. Jess decided to go to work on Monday and he was still here and, of course, wanting to see his granddaughter. So I ended up taking Monday off of work to hang out with him and take care of Celeste. It actually wasn’t as bad as it sounds. It wasn’t great either.

I tried to keep as many people around as possible while he was here and while the move was happening but, alas, at midnight or so Saturday night he cornered me alone. I don’t mind talking to him. It’s easier than talking to Jess, actually, because he speaks his mind and he tries to understand. The only bad side is that he is arguing FOR Jess with the bias that a father SHOULD have toward his daughter. Which doesn’t really make him a very good mediator. So, thanks to that conversation my situation is now a little more difficult than it was before he came. But, it’ll all work itself in the end. Maybe even for the better. Only time will tell.

Jess leaving is bittersweet. As I said (in divorce, death, and the afterlife) getting a fresh start is something I’m looking forward to. But there is some sadness there too.

Most importantly, I’m sad about the end of our ability and means to parent Celeste together. Even with Jess and I maintaining very different schedules and me spending a lot of time alone with Celeste, there were still plenty of moments, however brief, that we parented her together. Watching her run back and forth between us with a smile on her face is something I’ll forever miss.

Being able to get even the smallest of things done around the house because there were another set of hands around to care for the baby means more than can easily be explained, too. Even though it only happened once in a while, it was enough to get by and keep things sane.

There’s also a ton of mess left behind. Bedding upstairs that she slept on for one night. Her dad’s bed in the playroom. Boxes and bags full of stuff she hasn’t picked up yet laying all over the master bedroom. A garage full of stuff that needs to be sorted out. A dresser full of clothes. The good side is that, it seems, 80% of the stuff in our master bedroom closet was hers. So, reorganizing that might even be a task I can do with Celeste’s help now.

Finally, I’m worried that we may never be able to tie up the few loose ends we have with our situation. With her in this house, every now and then we got a chance to take and take little baby steps closer to the end. With her being gone, I’m not sure we’ll ever get there. Only there has to be an end. So, I’m not sure what that will take, but I’m sure I won’t like it.

Okay, that’s way more than 15 minutes. Now I’m going to be late. Send love. And, hey, let’s hang out some time.

NOTICE: Oh and if you know of any single moms or dads who would be interested in having a very caring and super awesome roommate (ok… maybe I’m a bit biased there) who would give them an awesome deal on rent and/or pay them for live in nanny services, please have them email or call me. I’m very serious.

and what about the kitties?!

Mar 18th, 2009
by Jim Reverend.
5 comments

Many of you seem to be indicating that the best solution to my housing problem is to live with my parents.

I’m beginning to see the light and am slowly starting to accept the possibility and consider it fully. The other option I’m considering is just staying where I am and letting them try to get blood out of a stone.

If I move in with my parents, there are lots of tiny problems that arise.

I’ll have to get a storage facility to put my stuff in or just sell it or burn it. Not fun but doable.

I’ll have to make trips back to the house to ensure it’s being maintained, to make repairs, and to generally play landlord. Not fun but doable.

But what about the kitties?

We have two cats. I got Toby as a kitten in 1999. He’s 10 years old and he’s been with me through a lot. Just after Jess and I got married, we decided to get, Miette together, also as a kitten. Jess is claiming no responsibility for either cat so, just like everything else, it falls on me.

My mom is very allergic to cats. It would be okay if I could keep them upstairs, but they are cats. Cats don’t like being kept anywhere. Even if I could manage to contain them, I’d have to deal with the destruction they’d perform on house while being contained. Ideally, I’d find some happy, wonderful place for them to live and then I’d miss my dear cats terribly every day there after. But where? Any ideas?

Reasons to stay?

Aside from moving in with my parents, the other ideas are not so good. So… what about just saying there and toughing it out.

If I do decide to stay put, I can refinance my house and shave off another $100. I’ve already got this mapped out and haven’t even really shopped around much. I might be able to shave off a little more on top of that.

It’s nice to have my own place. Eventually, I will be able to sell the house. If I’m still living there, I can leave it on the market, continue to make improvements, and decide what to do in the event that someone does want to buy it. I can always live with my parents as we transition from one house to another should that occur. And it will happen eventually, just probably not tomorrow. In the mean time, I can make it as livable and as happy as I want it to be and continue to seek a room mate that will actually get along with me and will work with me to make both of our lives better.

Thoughts?

and they keep on growing!

Nov 25th, 2008
by Jim Reverend.
No comments yet

Celeste will be 11 months old tomorrow. Time is flying by and I feel like I’m missing so much of her life. It’s not that I haven’t been there for nearly every new and interesting moment, it’s just that I lose track of when they happened. For instance, she can climb stairs now. But I can’t remember how old she was the first time she did it. It feels like just a week or two ago, but maybe it was longer.

As far as what I’ve documented online of her life I really have dropped the ball. At the very least my intent was to take a portrait of her once a month. While I’m sure I’ve taken at least one photo of her each month, I didn’t get the portrait I wanted. There just isn’t enough free time. Even though I feel like even that is an excuse.

Regardless of all that, she’s happy, and healthy, and growing so big I can hardly believe it. In case I missed something, here is a list of things she can do now:

  • crawl. very fast.Celeste Kneeling
  • close doors. in my face.
  • climb up stairs. going down, she thinks it’s okay to just jump.
  • pant like a dog. which she learned by mimicking my mom’s dogs.
  • growl like a lion. my personal favorite.
  • cluck like a chicken.
  • baaa like a sheep. though this seems to require all of her concentration and comes out in one quick burst.
  • call the cats (“kitty kitty kitty”). this causes them to run from her even faster.
  • cough on cue.
  • dance. especially when music with a strong beat comes on.
  • pull up on any surface at her eye height or lower.
  • find the volume up button on any remote control within 10 seconds.
  • press previously mentioned volume up button until everyone is out of their seats trying to make it stop.
  • laugh uncontrollably at the above spectacle.
  • climb over almost any obstacle. even if it means walking on her hands and feet instead of knees.
  • feed herself finger foods. usually done by cramming the food and all four fingers into her mouth.
  • slurp spaghetti noodles. I’m a proud dad.
  • drink from a sippy cup without help.
  • say up, all done, more, milk, and food in sign language.
  • give kisses. mouth wide open. lots of drool.
  • crawl all the way across the room just to give kisses.
  • sleep in her own bed in her own room.
  • say dadadada and mumumumum and know which is which. dada is usually used during playtime. mumum is reserved for crying.
  • play guitar. and hand drums. also enjoys using random surfaces for drumming. she takes after her dad.
  • melt my heart over and over again.

my first daughter

Aug 25th, 2008
by Jim Reverend.
No comments yet

It was late afternoon on a too-warm summer day. The afternoon light was filtering in through the screens surrounding the porch I was sitting on. My Dad was talking to me about something or other from outside. There was a lull in the conversation. I had been caught up in thoughts all day and suddenly, without any real conscious effort on my part, I asked him a question: “What was my first daughter’s name?”

He looked at me and was quite shocked for a second, then he quickly shook it off and made a joke. I was puzzled, and confused, and seeking. He looked at me more closely and said, “do you really remember her?”

I wasn’t sure what he meant so I only answered with, “I think so. What was her name?”

“I don’t even remember,” he said. “It seems like such a long time ago.”

I urged him to tell me more and, finally, reluctantly, he did.

He swears he can’t remember her name, though I’m not sure I believe him. He said that around 2 years old she became unspeakably violent without cause. We brought her to the hospital where they insisted that she be supervised and examined by a child psychologist. We were told that to really understand they’d need to watch her for a few days and that we should go home.

I can’t imagine agreeing to leave my daughter there and go home for more than a few hours, let alone a few days, yet my dad swears that we all thought it was best. We weren’t home for more than a few hours when the hospital called to tell us our daughter had been stolen. They had no idea who had done it but assured us every available resource was looking for her.

I was consumed by it. Time passed and they found nothing. I hunted for her day and night. I could not rest until she was found and no one seemed to be helping. I lost my job and was becoming sick. Eventually, according to my dad, I was urged to see a psychologist myself. After a weeks worth of lengthy visits, I was no longer obsessing over finding her. And after a few months, I didn’t speak of her at all. Over time, it was as if I had completely forgotten.

Even then, as he was recanting the entire story to me, it seemed like a story belonging to someone else living in a world that wasn’t anything like the one I lived in.

It was such a scary, insane dream that I can’t get it out of my head. I still remember almost every detail and there’s a part of me — a rather big part considering what we’re talking about here — that feels like it is real.

Even stranger is that there was no indication of time. I don’t know if the dream was in the past, the future, or the present. I also never saw my “other daughter” or spoke of her other than in reference to the fact that my missing daughter was “first”. I awake from the dream not knowing either daughter’s name. Is it more scary that this could be from the future and that my “first daughter” is Celeste? Or that this is from the present/past and that my “first daughter” came before Celeste?

6 months old!

Jun 27th, 2008
by Jim Reverend.
6 comments

what do I do with these?Celeste’s pediatrician (and my sister as well, who is an Occupational Therapist working with children) is constantly saying things like “your daughter should be doing blah blah by the time she is blah blah months old”. It’s kind of annoying. If there’s a manual that came with her, I’d like to read it. Otherwise, really, how do you know.

I think Celeste, who turned 6 months old yesterday, agrees with me. In an act of pure defiance instead of slowly achieving each goal, one by one as the unseen manual dictates she should, she just decided to do them all with amazing proficiency within the course of 2 weeks.

In fact, here are the things she did in the past two weeks that she couldn’t (or wouldn’t?) do before.

Eat Solid Food
With Nic and Emily as our witnesses, and the video camera rolling, her first adventure into solid foods was a solid one. She didn’t gum the food a bunch and then spit it out. She didn’t decide she didn’t like it and stop bothering to eat. She didn’t flat out refuse to eat at all. She didn’t play that fun spitting game she likes to play while eating her food. She just opened her mouth greedily and took spoonful after spoonful of Avocado until I was afraid to upset her stomach by giving her any more. She loved it.

The Fun Spitting Game
Constantly. It never ends. The more spit, the better. And don’t laugh while she does it. If you open your mouth too wide, you’ll end up with spit in there too.

Sitting Up
She sits on her own. Every now and then she’ll topple if I’m not near by to steady her. Other than that, there’s really no limit to how long she’ll sit. She actually enjoys sitting.

Her First Words
Write it down in the record book: her first words were “Da Da”. Well, actually it was more like “Da Da Da Da Da Da Da Da Da Da Da Da Da Da Da Da Da Da Da Da Da Da Da Da Da Da Da Da”. In fact, she pretty much doesn’t stop saying “Da Da” now. I don’t think it means what she thinks it means. We’re working on that part.

Fake Cry
Yup, she’s one of those. She knows if she cries she gets attention. So, when she wants attention but she’s not actually upset she fakes it. Thankfully, she’s not a very good faker, so the difference between the two is quite obvious. Her cry is a blood curdling, hair raising, heart pumping scream. Her fake cry sounds like a cat that is puking up and trying to meow at the exact same time.

Toes in her Mouth
She found her toes. She likes her toes. She’s just not quite sure what they’re good for yet. So, like everything else that doesn’t have a clearly defined purpose (and even most of those that do) they go in her mouth.

my wife is amazing

May 1st, 2008
by Jim Reverend.
8 comments

I am absolutely amazed by the compassion and dedication my wife has.

For the last 4 months (not to mention the 41 weeks before that) my beautiful wife has spent every single day caring for our baby girl. You probably don’t fully understand with that means without some qualifications, so let me elaborate.

Our daughter is breast fed. That means the sole source of nutrition our daughter receives comes from Jess. Every meal, every 2 hours (give or take), every single day, comes from Jess. On top of that, Jess doesn’t pump. That means that not only did Jess produce every single ounce of nourishment for our child, but also that every single drop was fed to her directly by Jess. There were no I-don’t-feel-goods, not-todays, maybe-some-other-times, i’ll-wait-till-tomorrows, or can’t-someone-else-do-its. She’s never had a break. Not even one. Without supplementing the baby’s food or pumping breast milk, Jess really can’t be away from our daughter for more than an hour and a half, tops, and even that is rare. And, it goes without saying that we don’t employ any form of day care or nanny service either. While I try to spend as much time with my little girl in the evenings and on weekends as I can, Jess is also the primary care giver 90% of the time, if not more.

I am so proud of her for sticking through this because she knows that this is what is best for Celeste. She knows that no one can produce anything more nourishing to our daughter than she can, and that no other method of feeding creates the bonds that our daughter deserves, and that no one is more fit to raise our child than we are. It’s even more amazing because she has known all along that at any moment she can ask for a break, no one will think poorly of her or as though she hasn’t done her part, and she can go right back to it when she’s ready. But she’s never asked for more than a few moments to take a hot bath.

As incredible as she is I’m very grateful that this first stage of formulative years is coming to an end. She deserves a break and I’m looking forward to seeing her have one, to doing my part, and to enjoying a break or two with her.

My wife is simply amazing.

and 4 months passed just like that

Apr 20th, 2008
by Jim Reverend.
4 comments

what button do I push... I know I say something similar about once a month, but, I cannot believe Celeste is going to be 4 months old next week. I’m sure that I was standing in that hospital nursery just yesterday afternoon thinkings, “There she is! That beautiful, kicking, crying baby is 100% yours to love and care for and nurture and support and potentially ruin.” Then, just the other day, she comes home from the store with mom wearing sun glasses and I think, “This is it. This is the start of the long drawn out event in which she grows up into an active teenager and I become her old dad who just doesn’t know what cool is and doesn’t understand.”

Despite the message the accompanying photo might portray, she’s actually been quite easy. Take yesterday, for example. The day before she was awake until 11pm that night when she fell asleep in the car on the way home. The next morning we woke her up at 5:30am, threw her in the car and took her for a 4 hour long hike strapped to my chest, most of which she was wide awake for and even entertained us with some singing along the way. Then we took her home for a quick nap and then threw her back in the car and drove her to Ennis where we expected her to pose pretty amongst the wild flowers. And she did. She was nothing but smiles until she got hungry. But 30 minutes at her mother’s breast solved that and she was ready to go again. So we brought her to a birthday party where she made it until about 9:00 when she finally started to get a little cranky. Even then, after the quick nap on the way home she was all smiles again.

Certainly a large portion of her good nature has to do with how naturally likable, charming, and easy going I am. Of course. That must be it. But she wasn’t always this easy. It took (and still takes) some work on our part. So I think that the lifestyle we keep her in has a lot to do with it, for which I am very grateful.

Next week I have to travel to New York on business for the entire week. The thought of being away from my family for that long has me feeling terrible. I’m smothering Celeste with all the attention I can muster and, some how, it just doesn’t seem to be enough to last for an entire week. We’re planning a trip to Canada this summer and there is some talk of Jess going up there earlier than me in order to spend some extra with her family. Words like “1 month” and “I’ll be fine by myself” and “at least we can come home together” are being thrown around and I feel like my lungs have been shrunk to the size of pinto beans and then fried… twice. I know that compromise is important and I have to keep an open mind and consider the needs of both my family and my extended family but I’m really having a hard time with this. It hard enough for me to accept being away for one week — 5 days really — on a trip required by my job which supports my family, it seems almost impossible to accept a voluntary month long separation.

I never realized how completely different my life could be as a father. Not that I didn’t have fair warning. No. Many of those that were fathers and mothers before me warned me both directly and indirectly that this would happen. And I believed them. But, the reality is so much different than the perception.

they grow up so fast

At the same time though, the warnings that my entire life outside of this little bundle of drool and poop and spit-up would change — if not end entirely — have been mostly untrue. Things are different, yes. Everything has been reprioritized, no doubt about it. Some aspects of life had to be compressed in order to make room for more important things, this is true. But, I still have time for my hobbies, my friends, my joys, and my passions. I was told that the things I wanted to do with my time would change. I was told that many of my prior thoughts and desires and passions and dreams would be completely replaced, but it just hasn’t happened that way.

While everything has certainly been reshuffled and I’ve made some conscious choices to toss a few things out here and there, all in all I feel as though I am intact. I feel as though fatherhood has made me a better person and continues to change me in positive ways. I’m the type of person who seeks personal change. I revel in every step of that transformation. While these particular changes may feel more poignant, I don’t feel like any of me is different or missing now that I’m a father.

I’m happy about that, too. Despite some self-esteem issues and a constant (unnecessary, I know) search for external validation, I’m pretty damn happy with who I am. Sure, there are some things about me that I would change and work daily towards doing so. But all-in-all, I really like who I am. And I’m glad that I can be this person for my wife, my daughter, my future family, and the group of people, both new and old, that I draw closer and closer to me with each passing day.

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