It's a frustrating thing, really. I'm not exactly sure how to put it into words, the feeling you get when you want to have your child. Specifically, to be able hold her and have her fall asleep on you. It's a bonding experience when it happens, and there is nothing quite like it. Unfortunately, unless your child is weened from the boobies, the experiences are few and far between and require assistance from Mrs. Port-a-boob (a.k.a. a bottle). Usually, if she is able to breastfeed long enough, the mother will become more of a pacifier rather than a source of nutrition. Then the bond has sealed itself into a nearly sacred state. It turns into the one place where the baby can feel safe and secure and know that the world won't get her. When this happens, the SAHD can start to feel useless.
Sure, he takes care of her in the daytime and keeps her entertained, but toys nowadays can do almost as good of a job as a Dad can (what with the whole tablet/iPad thingies). Of course, human interaction is preferable and most definitely irreplaceable. Plus, someone has to feed her. But that need goes away as she gets older and the inevitable independence begins the takeover. She starts knowing how to do things on her own, like pooping and eating and stuff. Then Dad is just there because someone HAS to be there. Babies really do grow up fast. Like, really fast.
The feeling of knowing that your baby trusts you and loves you enough to surrender to her tiredness without worry, that is important. Mommies get to have organic mechanisms built in to do that. But Daddies, we have to work for it, and it is not an easy job.
Stupid meaningless nipples.
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
Saturday, May 26, 2012
Pizza Doesn't Equal Fruit, But Does Equal Awesome
In 2010, there arose a controversy with congress when they declared pizza a "vegetable." That is, to say, pizza contained enough tomato paste to satisfy the federal guidelines for a daily serving of vegetables. There is an obvious issue with this declaration, however. Tomatoes are not vegetables, but rather a fruit. So, using sensible logic, pizza is a vegetable because of the tomato, and tomato is a fruit. Ergo, pizza is a fruit. BUT, this is horribly wrong for a terribly obvious reason: pizza is comprised of far more other ingredients than tomato and in much higher ratios. If you break down the rational proportions of the layers of pizza, there is about 10% cheese (depending on pizza type/style), 10% meat (previous addendum applies), 10% sauce, and 70% bread. Of course, these figures are 100% pulled from my rear end. From these flatulent-accurate statistics, we can officially confirm that pizza is a bread with a fruit topping and a protein supplement. Pizza is a pastry. There. I settled it.
The idea came to me when we were sitting at the table, enjoying some Little Caesars. Lately, Eliza's weight and size has been an issue, being on the "too little" side. The doctor said that we need to put her on a high calorie diet. Anyway, while we were eating, Staci was cutting Eliza her slice and I came to the startling revelation that pizza was the perfect food for, not just my kid, but kids in general. Now, let me give a disclaimer before I start my explanation. This is intended to explain how pizza is the perfect food for KIDS. Not adults. Adults are lazy creatures and are far from possessing the anatomical superiority that children do. Now, on to my irrefutable logic.
Pizza, we know, is made up of a ton of calories, which is what the body burns for energy. Kids, we also know, are made of energy. So we can suppose that pizza is just fuel for the fire, but it is so much more than that. The argument is that the oft-round dish is too greasy and unhealthy. But there are few things that counter this belief. Let's think about each layer separately. The bread is just bread. They don't put anything special in it to make it any different from sandwich bread. It is only different in consistency because of the preparation and a different ratio of ingredients. The tomato sauce is quite healthy, since tomatoes are full of nutrients. The only fight here is that people have the incessant need to put sugar in everything, so naturally, there is some sugar in it more often than not. Then the cheese is where the biggest argument lies. Most of the grease from pizza comes from the cheese, but the cheese is the same cheese that string cheese is made of and at only the amount of about a stick and a half per slice. You wouldn't object to your kid eating that, would you? (I said "cheese" way too much in that last sentence.) The meat is a touchy subject, considering that there are just as many meats to put on pizza as there are things for Lady Gaga to make a dress out of. (No, I will not insert the "meat dress" joke here. I'm an adult and I'm lazy; you can do it yourself.) Let's assume America's favorite topping, pepperoni, is on the pie. On two slices of pizza, there is about the equivalent of one or two slices of bologna in a sandwich with nearly the same nutritional value. Perhaps more saturated fat, but not much.
With this information, it makes sense that pizza is just a conglomeration of a few different items that one could find in a normal kid's lunch box, except stacked into a neat triangle shaped for your (and your child's) eating pleasure.
The idea came to me when we were sitting at the table, enjoying some Little Caesars. Lately, Eliza's weight and size has been an issue, being on the "too little" side. The doctor said that we need to put her on a high calorie diet. Anyway, while we were eating, Staci was cutting Eliza her slice and I came to the startling revelation that pizza was the perfect food for, not just my kid, but kids in general. Now, let me give a disclaimer before I start my explanation. This is intended to explain how pizza is the perfect food for KIDS. Not adults. Adults are lazy creatures and are far from possessing the anatomical superiority that children do. Now, on to my irrefutable logic.
Pizza, we know, is made up of a ton of calories, which is what the body burns for energy. Kids, we also know, are made of energy. So we can suppose that pizza is just fuel for the fire, but it is so much more than that. The argument is that the oft-round dish is too greasy and unhealthy. But there are few things that counter this belief. Let's think about each layer separately. The bread is just bread. They don't put anything special in it to make it any different from sandwich bread. It is only different in consistency because of the preparation and a different ratio of ingredients. The tomato sauce is quite healthy, since tomatoes are full of nutrients. The only fight here is that people have the incessant need to put sugar in everything, so naturally, there is some sugar in it more often than not. Then the cheese is where the biggest argument lies. Most of the grease from pizza comes from the cheese, but the cheese is the same cheese that string cheese is made of and at only the amount of about a stick and a half per slice. You wouldn't object to your kid eating that, would you? (I said "cheese" way too much in that last sentence.) The meat is a touchy subject, considering that there are just as many meats to put on pizza as there are things for Lady Gaga to make a dress out of. (No, I will not insert the "meat dress" joke here. I'm an adult and I'm lazy; you can do it yourself.) Let's assume America's favorite topping, pepperoni, is on the pie. On two slices of pizza, there is about the equivalent of one or two slices of bologna in a sandwich with nearly the same nutritional value. Perhaps more saturated fat, but not much.
With this information, it makes sense that pizza is just a conglomeration of a few different items that one could find in a normal kid's lunch box, except stacked into a neat triangle shaped for your (and your child's) eating pleasure.
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
A First For Everything
Well, here it is; my first post. First, let me tell you what this blog is really going to be about. It won't be just about my life with Eliza and my wife, Staci. It will also be about the things I learn, the little tips and tricks that I find along the way, and beautiful ways of coping as a SAHD (Stay-at-home dad). Hopefully, you won't find my writing to be drab and boring to the point that you desire that I retire to a waste pit of disease and pestilence and never write anything again. I would find that rather discouraging.
Eliza is now exactly 13 months old today. It's a little strange and confusing, saying how old a baby is. As they get older, normally their age-identifiers are counted by months, but once they get to the "year" mark, normalcy flies out of the freakin' window. Some parents call it "12 months," while others will say "one-year-old," or alternate depending on their mood and whether or not Mars is in alignment with Cassiopeia. I understand when it's not a common divisor for a year, e.g. "16 months" vs. "a year and four months," but when a child is "a year-and-a-half" and the parents say "18 months," it gives me the impression that they are trying to make their kid sound older than they are.
Yes, I understand that this is a pointless, stupid thing to be annoyed at, but this is my blog and I reserve the right to get things off my chest. Besides, you're the one reading it ;)
All I'm asking for is a little consistency.
Eliza is now exactly 13 months old today. It's a little strange and confusing, saying how old a baby is. As they get older, normally their age-identifiers are counted by months, but once they get to the "year" mark, normalcy flies out of the freakin' window. Some parents call it "12 months," while others will say "one-year-old," or alternate depending on their mood and whether or not Mars is in alignment with Cassiopeia. I understand when it's not a common divisor for a year, e.g. "16 months" vs. "a year and four months," but when a child is "a year-and-a-half" and the parents say "18 months," it gives me the impression that they are trying to make their kid sound older than they are.
Yes, I understand that this is a pointless, stupid thing to be annoyed at, but this is my blog and I reserve the right to get things off my chest. Besides, you're the one reading it ;)
All I'm asking for is a little consistency.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)