Time passages...

So, umm, hey... what's going on? Been a while since I Daddy-blogged. A lot has happened.

We had our first Christmas, and it was, hyperbole notwithstanding, truly magical. My daughter was excited, confused, tired (as were Mommy & Daddy) and delighted by both her presents and the boxes they came in. Wrapping paper proved a little confusing; she would rip it a bit, then stop and wait for something to happen, which led Mommy and Daddy to finish the job.

Elmo-themed gifts were a hit, including an Elmo Remote Control that satisfied both her urge to play with anything that has buttons (remotes, phones, BlackBerries, etc.) and the aforementioned love for Elmo. She also loved a front-door/house play set, which was -- surprisingly -- easy to assemble the night before. It has all sorts of sounds, bells, and other stuff to play with that she loves, and it's actually fun for us to play with her.

A few weeks later, we had her first birthday party -- 30+ people in our house (which is a lot of people) -- and it was a great day. We pushed our Baby Girl beyond her usual nap times, so there was a minor meltdown. She also wasn't so excited about birthday cake, much to our chagrin, as we were really hoping for some fun "frosting face" photos. She got great gifts from everyone, and my wife and I were humbled by how much everyone gave and how excited they were for such a wonderful milestone.

She had her first day in the snow. The last six weeks, we've been getting hammered by snow in the Boston area. After the last round of 10-12 inches, we took her out into the snow to let her play. She wasn't a fan... at least, not yet.

And then, just this past weekend, the big milestones started -- walking and talking. Almost overnight, our Baby Girl started saying all sorts of stuff, and is moving all over. When she's walking, the look on her face is priceless: A combination of playing it cool and a sly "Look at me!" smile since she knows how excited Mommy & Daddy are. It's just remarkable to see her walking around and talking up a storm.

All these things happened in about a five-week span. It went from "I can't believe she's gonna be a year old" to "She's doing it all!" in what seems like the blink of an eye. When I decided that I would re-start this blog as a "Daddy Blog" I always thought that, while all these things were happening, I'd have so much material and blog posts on all of them. Then I looked up and it was February and I hadn't written a thing.

It's funny -- all the cliches people have for parenting are right. It DOES go fast. A year ago, I would hold our five-week-old Little Peanut and just be in awe of this little life. Now I hold her and she looks at me and I know she's thinking "That's Daddy!" and she smiles and hugs me.

You always tell yourself to "Remember every moment" and document everything. You try to take mental snapshots of smiles, hugs, playtime... all that stuff. And then all of a sudden everything happens and you feel like you haven't enjoyed it enough.

Part of me is so excited to see our Little Peanut walking, talking, smiling, feeding herself... all those great things. And part of me is sad that each first step, first word, new milestone means that she's getting older. And that I need to hold on to each of those moments however I can.

When she's old enough - and if I keep posting - I'll show my daughter this blog. Hopefully, all of these moments will be captured. If not for her, then for me.

Because it does go by fast.

Goodnight my angel now it's time to sleep

Since I work in downtown Boston, I leave the house pretty early in the morning to catch the commuter rail. As a result, I miss being a part of the morning routine for my daughter - my wife handles the morning feeding, getting her dressed, etc. and brings her to daycare, conveniently located in the school where my wife teaches one town over.

To make sure I get enough Daddy Time, I catch the earliest train possible home so I can take the bedtime routine - bath, bottle, bed. It gives me about an hour of uninterrupted time to be with my daughter, and gives my wife a much-needed break to relax.

Almost from the day we brought her home from the hospital, that bedtime routine has included songs and lullabies after she finishes her bedtime bottle. FULL DISCLOSURE: My wife is an insanely talented singer and music teacher, and yours truly is a not-so-secret musical theatre geek. So we my daughter's been exposed to pretty wide selection of music.

As she's gotten older, I've added to the catalog of music I sing to her on a given night, everything from "The Rainbow Connection" to "Sparks" by Coldplay. It's funny, tho - no matter how many different songs I sing, I always seem to gravitate to the same three songs:
- "When Somebody Loved Me" from "Toy Story 2"
- "Somewhere That's Green" from "Little Shop of Horrors"
- "Goodnight, My Angel (Lullaby)" by Billy Joel

To recap: A song about a toy left behind (watch this clip and try not to be affected) by an owner who grew up; a song about yearning for a better life that, in the context of the show, is only a dream; and a "lullaby" that acknowledges that, one day, a father will be gone and a daughter will be on her own.

Umm... not exactly the happiest jukebox in the joint. So why do I sing them to my daughter before she goes off to sleep? Probably because - besides being a melancholy, sentimental schmuck - I have started to become more and more aware of how much my life has changed, how quickly my daughter is growing, and how much I want for my daughter.

Anyone who has ever listened to a lullaby of any sort knows they are inherently sad. Any song about longing, regardless of what context, has that sadness in its DNA. That's why they are so relatable; every one of us, regardless of how happy our lives are (and mine is quite happy, indeed), always has a longing for something. It might not be something you want; it may be something you lost... but it's there.

A year ago, I didn't have a baby or a house; now I have both. Six months ago, my daughter had only started to sit up, verbalize and interact with us; now she's standing, cruising, babbling and smiling like crazy. And someday, she will grow up and head out into the world on her own.

It's funny to me to think that even though my daughter is not a year old, I already know I will soon long for times like last night, like tonight when I start to sing to her and she looks at me and I know that, in that one moment, I am her whole world.

Someday, when she is grown up, someone will ask me about her and I will instantly flash to holding her in my arms, singing about "somewhere that's green," and I will get a little choked up.

And I'll smile. Because, to paraphrase Billy Joel, "I'll know, in my heart, I will always be part of her"...

We have movement!

Baby-Proof (def): Making your home safe for your newly-mobile child, including covering sharp edges and blocking dangerous surfaces (i.e., stairs, doors, etc.); also, a parent's worst nightmare. See "I'M NOT READY!"

So my daughter is crawling, pulling up, doing all of her pre-walking stuff.

Three words: Wow! Yay! F%$K!

Wow! - It's becoming increasingly clear to me that the cliche "they grow up so fast" is not just a trite saying; children really do grow fast. Nine & 1/2 months ago, my daughter was a newborn. We had no idea what her personality would be, when she would start to vocalize, get her first teeth, etc. Now she's a happy, smiling, squealing, mischievous ball of fun who babbles ("ogoly-ogoly-ogoly" is a favorite phrase) with eight teeth and more on the way. She's so interactive and engaging - just plain fun - that I have to remind myself she's not even a year old yet... and yet, a small part of me misses the days when I would hold her and she would open her eyes and melt my heart with a small gurgle or a grasp of my finger in her tiny hands.

Yay! - After 8 months of butt-scooting and "almost" crawling (laying on her belly and pulling herself with her arms Army-man style), my daughter started crawling, pulling herself up and even trying free standing - all in ONE MONTH! It seriously made my head spin. My wife and I were starting to wonder if she was developmentally-delayed, even though I was a late-crawler, too. Well, we ain't worried no more.

F%$K! - Now we have to baby-proof our house. When we bought our house in May, it was semi-baby proofed - some latches on drawers and cabinets, plug covers, the door to the basement had a handle protector... but it also had a few things that still needed to be done. We have to get a gate for the stairs (curiously, the top of the stairs was set up with a gate, but not the bottom - kids can fall down stairs from any stair, right?). And oh yeah - now we have to make sure closet doors are closed and there aren't any objects at the two-foot level that can be pulled down on top of our daughter.

But one of the best parts is we can now play games with her that are interactive and that she can move around... roll stuff to her, she pushes it back. Put her on one side of the room and she crawls towards us (or away, her choice). Really, it's just unbelievable how far she's come.

And to think - she's not even a year old yet!

Day-care, or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Just Hand Over My Kid

My daughter started day care a couple of weeks ago. Early returns have been, for the most part, positive, albeit with a few rough days - though none in the last week or so.

Me, on the other hand, I'm day-to-day; some days, I'm thrilled at the idea that my daughter is in day care and is interacting with other kids, the teachers, all that stuff.

Some days, though, I'm a mess. I think about how the little hermetically-sealed bubble of "Daddy, Mommy & Baby" has been forever and irretrievably punctured. We'll never get that bubble back; the baby bird is out of the nest, etc.

I think about how, in those first few days, she would cry at drop off and hold out her arms to be taken back. How our "happiest baby in the world" would seem sad sometimes.

Mostly, though, I felt like the worst parent in the world; when forced to choose between being home and caring for my child or handing her off to strangers so I could make a buck, I chose money...

Here's the thing, though; it's not really a choice. My wife and I struggled with this everyday (her much more than me, since she had been home with our daughter every day since she was born), often feeling bad about our choice. I've come to realize that it's not a choice - in order for us to provide our baby girl with a home, clothes, a future, and all that stuff, we have to work. Life is too expensive - day care ain't cheap, that's for sure - and money is not just a necessary evil; it's required.

On the way to our parental steel-cage wrestling match with this existential crisis of money vs. family, a funny - and wholly unsurprising - thing happened: My daughter adjusted and is FINE. She's still happy.

She still giggles when I imitate Cookie Monster (an admittedly poor imitation, but she doesn't know that yet)... loves Peek-A-Boo... thinks "The Very Hungry Caterpillar" is the best book ever... basically, she's adapted and is as happy, playful and smiley (Scrunchy Face) as ever. Seeing that, and hearing from the day care folks that she such a happy baby, helps, too.

Mommy and Daddy still can be prone to over-thinking and suffering paralyzing paroxysms of parental guilt, but we're learning to deal with it. Once again, I'm finding that I - we - have just as much to learn from her as she does from me.

The Scrunchy Face

I was once told, probably sometime during my wife's pregnancy, that the day your child smiles at you for the first time will be magical and amazing and will melt your heart and make you realize you have a little person, etc., etc.

And when my daughter smiled at us for the first time, it was all that. It really did send me to another place. But I knew she was "my daughter" when she started making what my wife and I call "The Scrunchy Face."

It is exactly what it sounds like - my daughter will, in moments of happiness (laughing or babbling), scrunch up her face in a "super smile" that is both insanely cute and wildly entertaining. Her eyes crinkle and her dimples will pop and she will smile her biggest, almost toothless grin.

And the best part about it is that, when she does it, I do it right back to her and we look alike.

Now it may seem strange that it would take something like this to make me feel like she is my daughter, especially since a lot of people have said she looks like me. It's not her looks, though, that I am talking about. It's the fact that when she does it, I do it back to her - and we both laugh.

So, more than my "looks" (God help her), maybe she has my sense of humor. And that's something unique to me and her.

And that's how I know she's my girl.

So this guys walks into a delivery room....

"It's a girl."

You could have pretty much knocked me over with a feather when the doctor said that to me. I mean, really and truly - my legs were wobbly and everything.

And it wasn't because we had been told it would be a boy and it was wrong. It had just become an unspoken agreement between my wife and I that we were having a boy. After all, I was one of three boys, my brother had two boys of his own... and our baby had been tracking bigger all during my wife's pregnancy.

During those 41 weeks (our daughter was a week late), I used to joke with people all the time that "My family only makes boys" and that "if I have a girl, I'm screwed" because I had no reference point for how to raise a girl. My wife, also one of three, has a younger brother and sister and seemed a little less trepadacious about having a girl, but still... we just thought "boy" all along.

The funny thing is that, all throughout the pregnancy, I stubbornly refused to find out the sex of the baby. I had always said that having a baby is one of life's few, true surprises - if you choose to not find out, you really won't know what you're having unil that magic moment when the doctor says "it's a..."

Even when I asked my wife to marry me, I was reasonably sure she would say yes, mostly because we had always talked about it and we were living together, etc. But this was a true surprise. And one that I would never have spoiled, no matter what.

I know how to raise a boy. I'm a little out of my depth when it comes to a girl. And the truth is, I love that.

Because now my daughter and I get to find out how to grow up together.

New direction, same author

So about 100 years ago, I started this blog ostensibly as a way for me to keep the (very) dim pilot light on for my nascent sportswriting career.

A lot has happened since then, tho - including a seismic event in my life that has, quite simply, profoundly straightened out my priorities and simplified my worldview.

On January 11, 2010, I became a father. And, to use the most devalued and overused word in today's popular lexicon, it has been the most amazing journey of my life.

Hence, this blog will have a new "flava" - it will be about my life as someone's father. I might still discuss sports or pop culture or politics or whatever, but it will most certainly be through that prism.

Because that's exactly where everything in my life that really truly matters now begins.

I'm someone's Dad.

And it's the greatest thing in the world.