What’s the Girl Look Like?

I’m sure that some of you are wondering, what does Emerson look like? And I’m sure that some of you are also wondering, what the heck, bro? It’s not Saturday! Yes, yes I know, I messed up again with not posting yesterday!

On Friday night I fell asleep, fully-clothed and everything and slept that way apparently all night until Emmy woke up at 6:30 this morning and Kayleigh kicked me out of bed to go take care of her.

So there I was, ready to go, in my clothes and everything already and I went to take care of the baby. I once thought, oh, dude, your post is supposed to be done in like, twenty minutes! and then I said screw it and it can wait until tomorrow!

So we had a good day yesterday; Emmy went to the Farmer’s Market with her Meme and Papa Steve and Kayleigh and I went to have coffee downtown and then went to the Strip for a bit. But anyway, on to the main point of this here post: why we don’t post Emmy’s face online.

So we don’t for a number of reasons.

1. We want the decision to be hers and fully hers. We want her to be the first to really decide to put her face out there for all to see and I think it’s great that she will be able to decide that. We don’t want to do it and then have Emerson for some reason wish to stay fully off the internet someday, I don’t know.

2. It can be dangerous in many ways, including the fact that once you put your child’s picture on there, it can be viewed forever and can be saved and copied pretty easily and then reposted from there. Imagine whose hands your babies picture could fall into? And from there it’s pretty easy to find a name and, if you’re good enough, more information.

3. There are some creeps on the internet and it sounds dumb, but when you look at facts and watch shows about pedophiles, it’s not far out there that your child’s photo could be misused and abused in ways you’d never want, so, yeah. Kayleigh doesn’t even like people looking at Emmy in public, so the internet is a no-no.

4. It can be embarrassing and potentially harmful to your child in the future. Imagine when they go to school and their classmates can search for their name and pull up some pictures they’d never want anyone else to see up from their past. Think about being a child once and if you’d had photos like that of yourself on the web, would you have been happy? If not, don’t post stuff like that! Why would you do that to your poor kid!

5. We want to keep her all to ourselves. Oh, and I guess our families too. And friends, our friends can see her face too. Or… anyone that wants to meet her in person! We’ll even video chat you! Just no pictures can be posted.

We love Emmy and just want her to decide for herself, when she’s ready (and when we’re ready, haha) to upload the first picture of her beautiful face! She’s too cute anyway, she’d break the damn World Wide Web.

Well, that’s all for now folks. Sorry that this was late, again.

Happy Sunday.

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Party Time, Excellent

I get to do this weekend, something that I haven’t done in a long, long time. Spend a couple long days with my tiny baby and I’m looking forward to it!

We were together today from around 4:30-on and we had a pretty good night. Granted, Emmy goes to bed at eight, but what can ya do. We had a good few solid hours together and it was cool.

I used to be with her three days a week from like 7:30 am until nearly 10 pm. It was a good time and I loved spending all that time with her, just father and daughter, straight chillin’. But she was a blob then and pretty incapable of getting into things and hurting herself severely. That’s not the case now, though!

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Coffee

Alright, alright, now I understand that it may be weird to have an entire post about coffee—or maybe not at all… I don’t know. What I do know is that without the magic substance, I might not be here today, you know, because I have a kid.

Now I know that there are those out there that don’t have a taste for coffee and those that seem to be anti-coffee, for some strange reason. I’m here to tell you that you’re wrong! Coffee is one of the greater things in life and if you don’t like it… you must be sick.

My friendship with Joe (Joe because it’s so funny and witty to call coffee Joe) began at age 23, shortly after I stopped drinking alcohol. I had never had much of a taste for coffee until I dropped one habit and picked up another. I know it sounds like it was just a replacement—and hell, maybe that’s what it is—but it feels like a lot more than that. Joe helps me focus and get the shit done that needs done and helps keep me from falling asleep at my desk at work after we have a rough night with Emmy. And that has happened, more than once—I’m just sayin’—moffuga gets tired bein’ a dad and all, haha.

Coffee has become my crutch—but in a good way; it helps support me in a non-deadly way such as alcohol was providing me. It’s actually pretty healthy for me, according to some studies, and that makes it even better. There really is nothing like a nice, black cup of coffee when you’re fighting to stay conscious or even when you’re just trying to relax, thus why it had to be written about more than just in an in-passing way. So there you have it—my little friendship story with coffee.

I love you, boo.

Rain, Rain, Go Away.

Alrighty then—now that we established what happened with the whole birth part of the story and I’ve talked about some more recent stuff… we can move forward, or onward you might say, in the past, but still onward… in the story, and can now discuss our Portland/Vancouver life a little bit.

I think I mentioned earlier that we were living in a small city called Vancouver, Washington at the time of Emmy’s birth; she was born in Portland, though, and thank the Lord for that. Not that Vancouver is a bad place or anything, but there are definitely some crazies up there and who even knows that there’s a Vancouver in Washington. Anyways, Emmy is Portland-born and she lived there (or near) for the first eight-or-so months of her life.

Now, I’m just going to give you the first 3/4 year of her life in a short, small, little nutshell. When our tubular little tyke was born, it was right in the heart of the rainy season, which worked for the FIRST few months of her life because she was fairly immobile and we weren’t really supposed to take her outside anyway. The more time moved forward and the bigger she grew though, the more we longed to get away from our dreary little apartment on the bottom floor in the small, hardly-known town that is America’s Vancouver.

Peruse On…

Stay-at-Home Parents

I guess today I’ve got a little ode to or a little shoutout to stay-at-home parents. I am not one myself but I know that being one has got to be incredibly tough.

I once found myself a part-time stay at home dad when we were still living in Vancouver, Washington and I worked full-time, four days a week, and Kayleigh worked full-time, three days a week. So I spent three full days with Emmy, from like 7am to 9pm, just the two of us, kickin’ it. Keep in mind, Kayleigh was doing it four days, from 9am to 10pm or later. This is all after she already had to (as if she minded) stay at home for something like seven weeks after Emmy was born for her maternity leave, which was unpaid, by the way.

I’ve got to say, in the months that I did the whole all-day parenting thing—it was hard, like, it whooped my ass. I’m surprised we both even made it back then, like, we’re both here and in one piece and I think that’s impressive. But I did have really hard days being with Emmy all by myself, and I mean ALL by myself. We lived in the PNW all alone, with no family near or anything. Okay, so Kayleigh’s cousin Tiffany lived in downtown Portland but she’s a doctor and we rarely saw her so that doesn’t count. And yes, she did have a great aunt and uncle that lived at the coast 2.5 hours away, but hey, they lived on the coast, 2.5 hours away…

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Hockey Practice

This post has nothing at all to do with Emerson or parenting… it’s just an essay I wrote back in college… a few weeks ago… I’m dumb.

Chop, chop, chop, faster and faster—the sound of hockey skates carving through newly resurfaced ice like the sharp, metallic scrape of the sharpening of a knife in a hectic kitchen. I’m at another predawn hockey practice, exhausting yet comforting, like curling up with a tantalizing mystery novel on a cold winter night. The hum of the electricity surging through the vacant arena is reminiscent of early-morning summer days, a distant lawnmower droning—striking in the stillness at first light. I look all around me and see the faces of my friends, my family, my team. We are here to better ourselves—all for one, and one for all.

We skate hard; we have to, which is understandable as we’re supposed to be the best of the best, the top of our division. I catch my breath between drills and breathe in the soft, crisp bite of the ice below my feet. The acoustics in the empty rink are incredible; the echoes amplified by the absence of sound-absorbing bodies.

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The Hard Times. The Best Times

Today I’m going to talk a little about those times when you’re super frustrated as a parent, the times where you just want to rip your hair out. I’m talking about the times where you have irrational thoughts like, “Why did I choose to have a kid?” or, “I wish I could put this little monster back.” These times usually come at night, either when you’re trying to get the little demon down to sleep or in the actual middle of the night when they wake up needing something from you. At times they come during the day though, too. Nap times can be just as challenging as bedtime.

I, myself, have had many of these moments and I have thought some things that I’m not proud of, but I have also learned—and it’s taken a lot of time to do so—how to calm myself down and how to actually try and enjoy those moments. If you remember that it is, in fact, your baby that you’re dealing with, it makes things a little bit easier. I then try to breathe slowly and remember the undeniable fact that I’m not going to have those moments forever. Not only will Emmy’s sleeping get better—and worse, at times—in the future, but one day she will leave the safety of my house and I won’t know where she’s sleeping or if there’s anyone there to take care of her.

Peruse On…