It was like we were shot into space for 9+ months, flipping and flowing in the zero gravity of a mellow pregnancy – still only two of us – and then the heat shield slipped during reentry.
Santa Cruz, we have a problem.
Now that we've almost completed week 3 with baby, we're all getting to know each other a little more every day. Mama and Bea have got the on-demand breastfeeding gig down. I've got the diaper changing gig down. Mama is cutting Bea's nails (I can't do it yet). Nighttime is still a little random; it'll take a few more weeks at the very least to get a better schedule going. Last night was great, though.
However, we are still getting to know each other every day. We stare at Bea and think what the heck is it, and Bea stares at us and thinks what the heck are they – oh, you're the one with the boobies. Come here.
We're not pumping the milk yet, but we'll start that soon and then I can help with the feedings, particularly in the early mornings when I'm usually already up working. We've got lots of new parenting books, but the one I'm currently reading is called Caveman's Guide to Baby's First Year. It's informative and fun for guys because it's not dumbed down; it's written for smart guys who are guys and are responsible and who have a solid sense of humor.
For example, of the top 10 reasons men should be able to lactate, the top three are:
A new twist on the "There once was a man from Nantucket…" limerick
A perfect complement to the man-gina
Finally qualified to get that job at Hooters
Ain't that a hoot? Okay, some family and friend folk may not think it's funny, but considering I took a caretaking quiz in the same book above and scored high as a manny – one who can care for your kids as well – I need some guy time.