Fat-dad : the bone crusher

Howdy all,

Just got back from an E.R. visit in Madison. We were down here for the Badger game with our good friends Doc and Ginger, I will post about the weekend later, but I had to tell this tale. After the game the 6 of us went out for dinner on State street. I was beginning to get my trademark mood of hangry so we nestled in at a nice little restaurant.  We were sitting in our booth and Ewok had just ate and was now ready to play. I put her up on the table and ran through my catalog of moves to keep her entertained. One of these new moves is while we are at home she has become really good at standing on her own with her just holding on to my hands for support. Normally at home we perform this maneuver on the couch, but she does so well with it that I didn't even think about the fact that a slippery table may not be the best place to do it. Her feet slipped a little which made her legs buckle and all of her weight came crashing down on just her right wrist. I felt a little pop and she started screaming. This was the type of scream that is normally reserved for finding a dead body, but she belted it out. We were able to calm her down and even get her to sleep in the restaurant,  but then we noticed that she was avoiding using her right arm all together and whenever we would touch it, she would start screaming again. Doc looked her over and figured that nothing was broken, but couldn't be sure. I was so upset with myself that I couldn't even eat. I rushed everyone out of the restaurant and wanted to at least get back to the hotel so my wife and I could figure out a game plan. We got her in to her car seat and the screams started again. Doc and Ginger drove us to the nearest E.R. as something was obviously not right at this point. We were seen and the Dr. told us that it was actually a super common minor injury. She had a name for it which is escaping me right now, but essentially when Elizabeth fell she twisted a tendon in her arm. The Dr. did a little adjustment on her arm, took some x-rays to be safe (nothing broken or dislocated thank god), gave her some Tylenol and sent us on our way. Doc and Ginger drove back to the hotel and grabbed our car and then drove all the way back to drop it off too. This is easily the worst feeling I have had as a parent or even as a human being in general. This sweet, tiny, fragile little girl depends on my wife and I for everything and I hurt her. It was totally unintentional but that fact does very little to make me feel any better. Between her arm, teething and just having a long day in general at the game, our little lady sure isn't the happiest creature right now. And it is my fault. My wife keeps telling me that it was an accident, that she is fine, and that I was just trying to make her smile, but I still feel like shit spread over burnt toast over it. Of course my wife isn't wrong, she rarely is, I guess I just hope my little Ewok will feel better tomorrow morning and that someday this will be a story that we laugh about. Man, that feels better. I will update y'all soon. Thanks for reading and please have a beer in hope of Ewok's speedy recovery. Prost.

A message from the Queen.

Howdy gang,

Here is the post that you all have been waiting for, you finally get to hear from my wife! I wrote down a few questions and told her that she had carte blanche to say whatever came to her mind. I made a few comments at the end of each of her responses, but this one is all her. As Elizabeth can attest, Fat-dad is funnier, but the masses had spoken and they wanted to her from my Queen. Enjoy!

First off, how do YOU feel about the blog?
As an avid blog reader, I was excited about the blog and eager to see where it would go. I've always known Brian can entertain a crowd and was excited to see how his stories unfolded in writing. I love the long blog posts most, but get excited to see the daily updates on Facebook as well. Plus whoever takes the majority of the photos that are posted is a pretty awesome lady! I seriously learn new things about my husband and daughter (good or bad) through reading the blog and look forward to the moments that make me think "Really, that's how he remembers that event unfolding?" Or, "Oh, I do not claim responsibility for [insert crazy action, nerdy reference or vulgar phrase here]."

“Despite what she says, I am pretty sure that she doesn’t like many of the things that I write about, but she has been an amazing sport about all of this so far.”

Can you describe how you felt when you found out you were pregnant?

Since getting pregnant took about 2 years for us, I was certainly shocked when I first saw the positive pregnancy test. I wasn't even planning to take the test that Sunday night, but once I told the yet-to-be-titled Fat-Dad that I thought I should take one that week, he insisted that I should take the test that night when we were together. He's not one for surprises, so waiting any longer wasn't really an option for him.  I had seen plenty of negative tests in previous months, so it took me a while to really realize what I was looking at before the excitement set in. I was both excited and shocked! I was so used to seeing negative results and bring disappointed by it that I really didn't know how to feel. I kept my initial reaction hidden for a few minutes and let Brian read the results for himself. My second thought, I believe, was "Shit, we drank a lot of Moscow Mules last weekend".

“None of that is inaccurate. The Moscow Mules were on our minds, but I wasn’t too worried. I didn’t even know about all of the negative tests, now I have to wonder what she would have done if I wasn’t home…”

What can you tell us about the pregnancy itself? 

I loved being pregnant and seriously do miss it! In the beginning, however, I was a nervous wreck and constantly in fear that it was either all a dream or that I would miscarry. That nervous feeling continued on past the first ultrasound, past hearing the first heart beat, and in to the first few weeks of feeling kicks. It just didn't feel real and I couldn't wrap my mind around it. This, hilariously caused a bit of a role reversal for us. Since it didn't quite feel real, I refused to plan too far ahead or really do any prep. Brian, on the other hand, was researching and wanting to order baby gear. 
Overall I had a great pregnancy! I think a combination of luck and overly positive attitude went a long way for me. I hardly had any morning sickness, even though I had plenty of food aversions (no raw veggies) and very few cravings. I was comfortable for my whole pregnancy and up until the last week could still run up a flight of stairs. There were even times where I'd forget I was pregnant until I'd feel a kick; I just felt that good!  I never reached the "get this thing out of me" stage but did develop a pretty sweet waddle by the last few weeks!

“I can’t help but point out that she left out that all she did for the first 3 months was sleep. She didn’t have the worst morning sickness, but she wasn’t doing cartwheels around the house either. She actually did do pretty damn well for the rest of the pregnancy though. I loved the fact that she was constantly craving meat. Totally worked for me.”

Can you describe the delivery? 

It must have been a combination of the hormones and the adrenaline, but every time someone asks about labor and delivery, I reply with "It wasn't that bad!".  I know I'm tough with a very high pain tolerance, and I do remember the contractions being uncomfortable and even quite painful at the end, but it was much more of a mental game for me. I was determined to have an active, non-medicated birth with no intervention and I was very proud, and lucky to be able to do just that. I don't ever recall getting to a point where I thought I needed pain management to continue and as long as Brian continued to put insane amounts of pressure on my hips I  never had to dig into the list of mental tactics I was saving for when I wanted to give up. I very much lived in the moment (something I'm terrible at doing normally). A few things that clearly stand out in my memory about labor are: the look on Brian’s  face a little after Midnight when I told him I was starting to have contractions (shock, excitement, and oh shit I just finished off a bottle of wine and shouldn't drive); the nurses' shock when they found out I was easily far enough in my labor to warrant staying at the hospital (we arrived about 4 AM); the dancing we did between contractions; that Da Butt would kick hard every time before the next  contraction would start and I would shoot Brian the look of "here we go again"; the evil look I shot Brian in the last few minutes of pushing when he reminded me that I only had 15 minutes left to push the baby out if I wanted to make estimated delivery time I listed earlier; and the pure look of joy on both of our faces when Elizabeth was born! We did have a little hiccup at the end with a postpartum hemorrhage, but I was blissfully in mama heaven with my little girl in my arms and really don't remember much of that at all.

“I’m calling bullshit on about 90% of this paragraph. She yelled quite a bit and swore. I could hear her down the hall while I was using the bathroom. Luckily, the floor was pretty empty and there was another woman yelling “FUCK” at the top of her lungs, so that did kind of put it in perspective for me. The hemorrhage by the way was absolutely terrifying for me. I work with blood every day and I could tell pretty quickly that it wasn’t good. Thank god that the bleeding was able to be controlled and my wife was none the wiser for it.”

What do you think is the best thing about being a parent so far?

 Honestly, I don't know where to begin! I'm loving every minute of being a Mom; it's everything I thought it would be and more than I could have ever imagined at the same time! I find myself so extremely proud of Elizabeth every time she does something new and want to see her grow and learn; yet at the same time, I want time to slow down and for her to stay little forever.  But it's not only her; I love the changes that have happened to us as parents! Sure our bed isn't always made like it used to be, and the dishes aren't done every night, but we love family time and couple time much more! Even if couple time is giving backrubs and falling asleep on the couch together nearly every weeknight. Seeing Brian become a Dad has been a blast as well!

“Becoming a parent had me terrified in general, but having my wife so ready to rock kind of kept me in line. I had to get my head in the game. Now, I truly can’t imagine myself any other way.”

What do you think is the hardest thing about being a parent so far?

 We have been lucky enough to have a pretty easy time so far. Again, it may be the hormones or Mommy goggles which have made me forget the harder parts of the first few weeks, but so far I'm loving every minute of it! The hardest thing for me right now seems to be letting things go (like making the bed and folding laundry) and remembering that she'll only be this little for a little bit.

“I am calling bullshit again, she seems to let all of the house shit fall to the wayside pretty easily. I do my best to pick up the slack though because she is right. We only get a short time with her as a little lady so dishes and laundry can wait. I happen to be a night owl though so it is pretty easy to make time when my lovely ladies are in bed. The hardest part for me is related though, I wish I didn’t have to work anymore so that I could be at home with my Ewok more.”

Do you have anything else to add?

 Nothing for now, but give me a day or two and I'm sure I'll be up feeding Eliza in the middle of the night and I'll remember something I wanted to say.

“Ah…I have been meaning to do a blog post about this. My wife insists on calling Elizabeth “Eliza”. I prefer Liz. It has become quite an area of contention around our house.  I might have to do a post about that still anyways just so you dear reader, can get the full story and decide for yourself.”

As always, I thank you all for reading and I hope you enjoyed this different post from Fatterhood. If you enjoyed it, perhaps I can look at doing a few more like it in the future. I am sure that my wife could do her very own blog based on just my antics. Don't forget to check out Fatterhood on Facebook, and until next time...PROST!

Wedding Madness!

The new logo of Fatterhood!

Howdy Gang,

                While my wife is finishing up her end of a post, I figured I would keep you all satiated. Over the weekend we had yet another wedding, this time in Green Bay. I fell asleep on the couch Friday night which has been a pretty usual occurrence lately. Anyways, when I woke up Saturday morning Ewok and my wife were sitting on the floor by the couch and Ewok was eating. As soon as she heard me start to stir around she unlatched and started searching for me. I was immediately greeted by her little goofy toothless smile. That is the way to wake up every single day. She refused to latch back on until I played with her a little. So we goofed around, I made faces and we danced a little and then she remembered that she was hungry so she went back to eating with my wife the Slave-Cow while I showered at got ready. Elizabeth did really well on the way down despite her teething. A 3 hour car ride with a teething infant may be one of the circles of Hell that Dante forgot about, but we didn’t get to fully experience it until the way home…more on that later.

                The wedding was held at the botanical garden in Green Bay. It was gorgeous, but it was like a 10-15 minute walk out to the pavilion were the wedding was being held. I know I am out of shape, but Jesus what a pain in the ass in dress shoes, carrying a diaper bag, and carrying a teething infant! We got out there and the wedding was very nice. A short, simple, sweet and to the point ceremony and then we had to trek our asses right back out again. We literally walked longer than it took for the ceremony. We made our way to the reception which was held at a local brew-pub called Title Town Brewing, right across the street from Hinterland Brewing. I got out voted by my wife’s family to go over to Hinterland while we waited, but I lucked out because Title Town had some really nice craft brews. I proceeded to start drinking copious amounts of delicious craft beers. After over 12 years of being around my wife’s extended family, I still get kind of nervous and I tend to use beer as a social lubricant.

                Anyways, we make it up to the reception hall and they have several of Title Town’s brews on tap for free, this was unknown to me before we made it up there otherwise I wouldn’t have spent $7 per pint glass down in the pub. They also had a Wisconsin favorite the Old Fashioned. If you aren’t from Wisconsin, I don’t know how to describe this elixir of the Gods other than they are delicious if made properly. These were also free which ‘free’ is one of my favorite kind of drinks. We did the rest of the wedding festivities, dinner, passed around Elizabeth to all of the cousins/aunts/etc., and by this time in the night we had a very sleepy little Ewok. She was fighting it pretty hard though so I asked the DJ if he would play Wagon Wheel during an upcoming slow set. Thank god he did! Ewok, my wife and I all stepped out on the dance floor and did a 3-way slow dance and gently rocked her to sleep.  It was a win for sure.

                With Ewok sleeping with my wife’s aunts, we made our way out to the dance floor with the nieces. Those 2 girls got some funky fresh moves let me tell you. The little one’s version of dancing by the way is to just be picked up and swung around. All of us were taking turns swinging her around, but that is extremely tiring for an adult that doesn’t have the energy of an average 3 year old, so we would try to sneakily pass her off. She wised up to that pretty quickly though. During this whole time, I was just pounding the free beer. I lost count of how many drinks, but the last number I remember was 12 beers and 4 very strong Old Fashioneds. While going up to the very nice bartender (whom I had been tipping quite well all night) told me “You must be the coolest dad I have ever seen! You are soooo good with all of your kids!”. I was too drunk to realize that she thought that my 2 nieces and possibly my wife’s cousin’s kids (a 10 and a 12 or 13 year old) were my kids! Once it hit me what she thought, I was actually a little bummed out. Hold old did this lady think I was? I know my beard adds on a few years, but I can’t be the father of a 12 year old!

                Elizabeth was getting pretty cranky by this point in the night, she had already chewed/spit up on an uncle’s tie and was just done. Both of my nieces were also quickly running out of juice. We caravanned the kids to the hotel (it was only a 2 block walk) and my wife was kind enough to stay with all 3 girls in the hotel while my brother-in-law, his wife and I went back to the reception. My brother-in-law’s wife and I are drinking buddies. We have a lot in common and we both like to toss a few back. We proceeded to drink all of the drinks. I can’t put a number on it, but it was all of the drinks. This left us properly lubed up to make asses out of ourselves on the dance floor. Apparently my jam is ANY Beyonce song. Didn’t know that. Eventually the party dwindled down and all of us kids were planning on hitting up a bar. I mean, we were childless and it was only 11pm. But on the way back to the hotel, we realized we were all tired and now properly 3 sheets to the wind. We decided to call it a night since we all had a long drive the next morning.

                The next morning, we said our goodbyes and saddled up in our respective cars. I wasn’t really that hung-over, but I was exhausted from staying up drinking and dancing. We only made it about 15 minutes and Elizabeth started screaming. And I mean SCREAMING. She was just pissed. Don’t know for sure if she was hungry, had a wet diaper or her teeth were bothering her, but my guess it was all 3 because my sweet little angel turned in to an unholy terror. We stopped at a 5 Guys since I was also hungry and we changed a butt, fed our little pissed off gremlin and gave her Sophie to chew on. We ate and even though she was soooo tired, she refused to fall asleep. We packed her back up in the car and she actually passed out again. But about half-way home, she shit and it was round 2. I still am unsure how something so small can produce soooo much shit, but she is a pro. We pulled over, ate, and changed a diaper again, but she still wasn’t having any of that nonsense. She just kept letting us know how sick of riding in a car she was. Eventually we pulled over again and I got behind the wheel and my wife jumped in back to keep her entertained. After a full 30 minutes, she finally passed back out. All things considered, it was still a very successful trip but this teething shit can stop at ANY time. 

                I would like to throw out a sincere thank you to a dear friend of mine that not only inspired me to start writing this blog, but also took the time to design a kick ass logo for Fatterhood. Tere has been such a great friend, a great Aunt to Elizabeth, and is now and amazing wife as she just got married! So thank you Tere! As always, thank you all for reading. Check out Fatterhood on Facebook. And keep on the lookout for my wife’s forthcoming post! Thank you all again- PROST!

Enter Fat-man...errr...Sandman

Howdy gang,

                Last Thursday was perhaps my most upsetting and proudest moment as a Father so far. I had finally gone to bed at around 1am, I was getting comfortable, setting my alarm, etc. when Elizabeth started to stir in bed. She has been doing this crazy thing where she lifts her butt up with her legs and then slams it back down in order to get our attention. My wife woke up and fed her. While Elizabeth was lying in bed getting her diaper changed and almost ready to pass back out, she caught a glimpse of me in the dark. It took a while for her eyes to adjust to the dark and to register what she actually was seeing, but then she lit up with this big smile. My wife immediately went “oh no”, but I was pretty excited. She hadn’t seen me all day since I was at work and she was already in bed by the time I got home that night. Seeing that big toothless smile on her face made me so happy, but as it turns out she equates Daddy with play time now. So at 1am she was now wide awake and ready to play. My wife looked about the opposite of thrilled, but then I said that I would stay up and get her back to bed so she rolled over and went back to sleep. I could tell Ewok was still tired, but damned if I could get her to fall back asleep. After about 45 minutes of walking around and gently patting her butt she finally passed back out.

                When I picked her up from daycare on Friday I was told she was kind of a crank all day. Elizabeth, my wife and I ended up meeting Doc and Ginger and their new baby girl to go see a baseball game. We stayed out late and Ewok wasn’t really having any of that shit. She was very good at the game, but right about the time she would fall asleep the crowd would roar or some loud music would be played. Luckily we were able to sleep in late on Saturday before a wedding of a close high school friend of my wife and I . Despite the teething, she did very well at the wedding. Everyone wanted to see her and hold her and for the most part she was great about it, but for whatever reason every time she came close to a specific friend, Elizabeth would start crying. And I mean really crying. I have no idea what the deal was at all, Ewok just wasn’t having any of that shit. A family friend took Elizabeth for an hour or so in order for my wife and I to get a few dances in at the reception. We left a little before midnight, but when we got home we discovered that we had left our beloved teething giraffe Sophie at the wedding! Holy shit did Sunday suck without Sophie. Luckily, Sophie was found “alive” and well and was returned to us last night then. All is well now in our kingdom.

                I would like to thank you all for reading and as promised, we are working on a post from my wife’s point of view. I hope to have it up very soon. So check back soon and don’t forget to like Fatterhood on Facebook. Thanks again. Prost!

Come to the dork side...

Howdy again Gang,

                Holy shit is my little girl getting so freakin’ big! I believe I told you all about how she started rolling a few weeks ago. She started out pretty much only doing back to tummy, but now she is a tiny little tornado. Every single diaper change is still a shit filled rodeo, compounded in difficulty because she also insists on grabbing her toes now at all times (more on that in just a minute). Now though, she has started to roll to her toys. Her Sophie and her orange ball are currently all the rage. They even finally saw her roll at daycare, which is great because I am pretty confident that they thought we were making this shit up. The toe thing is killing me though. It was about 2 weeks ago that my wife picked up Elizabeth from daycare and she was just intently watching another child there play with her toes. That freaking night she spent the majority of the night trying to find her own feet. Now, as long as she isn’t in her footie pajamas and has a free hand, she is always playing with her toes. She is on a mission to get those damn toes in to her mouth as well, which is oddly gross to me. I mean, it isn’t like she is walking around barefoot all over the place and stepping in dog shit, but there is something ingrained in me as an adult that I shouldn’t suck on my toes. Perhaps in jealousy as I am so out of shape and so not flexible enough to get my toes in my own mouth.

                I have made some references about the “parenting cabal” via Facebook and while speaking with my friends and I am usually met with looks of confusion. I’ve already made reference that parenting is a real bitch sometimes, but for the most part… I always speak quite fondly of it. That got me to thinking of what pretty much every other parent has ever said about parenting and I had an epiphany. There is a certain amount of cognitive dissonance that comes with being a parent. I’m tired, grumpy, many times and shit and or piss covered, always spit up covered, but when I am asked about what’s it like to be a parent, I usually reply with, “I wouldn’t trade it for the world”. I unintentionally lie (for lack of a better word) to childless friends and family. I say lie, only because I do mean what I say, but it is a lie of omission. It seems ingrained in our very DNA to try to trick our friends and family in to having kids, but as soon as I get together with my friends and family we spend a majority of the time talking about the dark underbelly of parenting. Hence the “parenting cabal”.

                I have been brutally honest about my experiences and feelings during this whole 4 months (yeah, I know…she is 4 months old already! WTF?!). Even though, by definition, I am a part of this parenting cabal now, I think I have painted a true picture of what it is like to live with an infant. It is a totally indescribable mix of emotions. I do mean it when I say that I wouldn’t trade it for anything, but at the same time I wish Elizabeth came with an owner’s manual. A part of me does miss going out on the weekends, getting shitfaced and pissing in whatever local alley way that I found. I made mention that I am a mild workaholic, but just last week I was given a mindless task of putting a profile picture on a few of the computer programs that we use at work. While looking for pictures to use, I came across one of Elizabeth and I while we were at a zoo a few weeks ago. I just starred at it. I hit submit profile picture and then said “Fuck it, I’m going to get my daughter”. It was an office day and I had the lion’s share of my critical work done, but I used to milk those office days out for 12+ hours and come in on the weekends, now I just want to see my damn kid. This has lead to some resentment on my end towards work, and some resentment on my boss’ end because I am not putting my usual amount of hours in.

                I miss the old me and I can’t stand the old me all at the same time. Luckily for me, my wife is amazing. She allows me to get my old ways in here and there. She’ll watch out daughter all by herself after working for 12 hours  so that I can go see the new Star Trek with a buddy. Which to be fair was a win-win because she had ZERO interest in seeing it. She is not dumb, she knows that on Friday nights after my wife and daughter go to bed, I usually kill a 6 pack of beer or a bottle of wine and smoke a few cigars on the patio, but bless her soul, she allows me to have my “me time”. I try to do that for her as much as possible too because that’s an important part of parenting that I feel gets overlooked by many new parents. You HAVE to make time for yourselves and for each other or you will go nuts. As much as it will pain you to leave your child with someone for the night, you have to get out and go see a movie and then get shitty. As difficult as it is, you have to find or make the time to get out and do your own thing every now and again. Admittedly, it is much more difficult for my wife to get away by herself since she is still breastfeeding, but we have lucked out and Ewok does great going back and forth between bottles and boobs, she must take after her daddy.

                So in the future if you are foolish enough to ask me about parenting, know that my DNA is urging me to lie to you so that you have your own child, but know that I am not lying about loving being a dad. I would like to thank you all for reading as per usual. I would also like to take this time to say CONGRATULATIONS AND WELCOME TO THE CABAL to our friends Doc and Ginger! They became the proud parents of a beautiful and healthy baby girl earlier this week. Their baby girl is the one that I mentioned in an earlier post, she is destined to be Elizabeth’s eventual best friend and/or lesbian wife. We are very happy for the 3 of them though in all seriousness. Also, I will have a very special treat coming up for everyone soon. You will get to hear from my wife! She got a suggestion from a friend of hers that reads this blog and long story short…I loved it and will be posting soon, so check back. As usual, don’t forget to check out Fatterhood on Facebook and PROST!

Vincent Van Toe

Howdy gang,

Foot fish?

                I have been out for a while now! My god! Same as usual, work has been trying to kill me I think. I will be doing another follow-up post very soon in order to catch everyone up on what all has been happening and to update on what is new with Elizabeth, but I had a very specific idea in mind for this post and since it is already so late I wanted to at least get this one out today. On a semi-related note though, I think I have done a pretty good job thus far at painting a picture of myself. It will come as no surprise that I am kind of an asshole and an idiot. That being said, I have actually been holding back a little on these post since many of my family members read this, but…they know I am an asshole. So I won't really be censoring myself any longer. Fatterhood will contain at least 34% more curse words and sick, twisted thoughts. So fuckin’ eh!

                I am getting so confused with these damn “art projects” that are sent home with Elizabeth from daycare. I mean, don’t get me wrong, they are cute/adorable/sweet/some other adjectives little keepsakes. But who the hell do they think they are kidding?! First off, what kind of artist would choose feet as their medium or their muse? Interesting side note, I get curious on stuff like this and a quick Google search brought me to a

bout 72,800,000 results just for the phrase “foot artist” so I guess that shut me up. But to be fair, most of these artists don’t have arms. Elizabeth’s work but she is just refusing to pick up a damn paint brush. Kids are freakin’ lazy as shit these days. Secondly, am I seriously paying over $200 a week so that a twenty-something year old can put paint on my daughter’s feet and then draw legs on it to make it look like a squid? Where the fuck was this on career day?

Foot octopus?

                It is really interesting though how differently my wife and view these “masterpieces”. When my Ma died I found several big Rubbermaid bins that had what appeared to be EVERY SINGLE DAMN ART PROJECT I HAD EVER DONE! That was how she was though. She had to save everything that her little boy ever touched. I am the type of person that HAS to get some sort of souvenir whenever I go some place new and I have my nerdy collections of course, but I am not overly attached to things in general. My wife on the other hand has zero chotskies. She has next to no emotional attachment for material goods at all. She has a couple of very cherished possessions such as a pearl necklace that her grandmother gave her on our wedding day and our family photos and so forth. It has lead to an interesting disagreement as to what to do with these one of a kind art pieces.

                I am not quite sure what I really want to do with them either. My wife says that we should keep the ones that are special for whatever reason, but they are all special. On the other hand, I don’t want to have 20 bins of construction paper that a daycare teacher doodled over my daughter’s foot prints either. I guess time will tell on this one, but my guess is that my wife is just talking a big game and we will end up keeping all of them for posterity.

I don't know what the fuck this is.

                I promise to have a few other posts up really soon. So please check back soon and don’t forget to check out Fatterhood on Facebook. As always, thank you for reading and PROST!

The queen, the princess, and the jester

Howdy gang,

                I had mentioned in a earlier post that it seemed like for the majority of human history dads had it pretty easy. In the beginning, dads clubbed a woman over the head, had a baby, hunted, then died at the ripe old age of 17. Things changed over time and the clubbing went away and hunting was replaced with work of some sort and they had to actually remember the child’s name and then they died at 50. Still pretty easy though. Somewhere in the 80’s things changed yet again and men were expected to be in the delivery room, they took time off of work, they started actually being parents. Now, I know this obviously isn’t the case for every dad throughout history, but for the most part, that’s pretty much how it has gone. I grew up watching old tv shows with my grandparents, so I honestly thought that marriage and the subsequent children would be pretty much like I Love Lucy, Leave It To Beaver, All In The Family, etc. The man was the king of his castle and he went to work while his queen took care of the house and children. When he came home he would be greeted by a homemade meal, his children would bring him his slippers and pipe and he would have a scotch on the rocks waiting for him while he sat in his recliner and read the evening newspaper. TV is bullshit.

                Now I am not saying that tv being bullshit is a bad thing. I have no delusions about who wears the pants in my family. My wife handles all of the finances, she keeps track of schedules, she makes the benjamins, and she calls the shots. On top of all of that, we split up house chores. Due to all of her dietary restrictions I refuse to cook. The last time I did that it could not have gone more poorly. So she does the cooking, but I take my turn on dishes. I do the majority of the laundry and the vacuuming, I mow the lawn, and pitch in with the garden, and I usually let our chickens out and collect eggs. I may bitch and moan about “all the things that I have to do” but the amount that my wife does, truly astonishes me. Not only does she do all the things that I mentioned, but she also works full time and has the added duty of breastfeeding Elizabeth. She has become Elizabeth’s “slave cow” as my brother in law puts it. I got tired just typing up everything that she does on an average day.

                As alluring as the thought is about being greeted by a loving wife, 2.4 kids, and a dog when I come home from a hard day at the office; it just isn’t us. My crazy and unpredictable work schedule comes with some definite headaches, but the upshot is that some weeks I may actually only work 2 or 3 days, so I get to actually be with my daughter and experience her grow up. Of course, there are the other weeks when I work 7 days and don’t actually get to see her because I am either out on the road or getting home at 1am. I think it evens out in the long run though.

                On the flipside of things, fatherhood will also never really be like Full House either. I can tell you right now that if Elizabeth ever backs a cement truck in to my kitchen and dumps the cement, I won’t say with a wink, “That’s coming out of your allowance” and then we hug it out. From what I have seen thus far, is life is much closer to Married With Children. Minus the blood and wallet sucking wife (the shithead children remains to be seen). I am “respected” as a husband and a father, but it is more of a honorary title, a figurehead if you will. I am good for some laughs from time to time (mostly at my expense) and I have my role to play, but my wife calls the shots and soon she will have a little one to back her up. God…how bleak? It’s not really as bad as I make it sound. I know my place and I know what I am good for.

                For Ewok updates, we have officially started a legit bedtime routine. My wife gets home from work around 6pm every night. Her and I eat and usually Elizabeth is hungry by about 7ish. Before we let her eat, we get her in her pajamas and get her in a fresh diaper. After she eats she usually gets “tit-faced” and passes out. By 8 or 830 we have her in her crib and then my wife and I can actually get stuff done. We have bottles to clean, dishes to do, a never ending supply of laundry, we get diaper bags ready for the next day and outfits laid out. My wife tries to be in bed by 10pm as she is usually up by 430 am. Ewok now usually only wakes up once or twice in the night to eat. I know my wife has one hell of a morning routine, but to be honest…I have no clue as to what it is since I am usually dead asleep. Somehow she gets herself and Elizabeth ready in the mornings, drops her off at daycare by 630 and makes it to work by 7. I get why my wife is the queen, my daughter is the princess and I am the jester. Although, my wife is already warning Ewok that my jokes get less funny over time… everyone is a critic I guess.

                I hope to have another post or two up by this Friday, so check back soon. As usual, please like Fatterhood on Facebook and thanks for reading. Prost!