With babies, not all is peachy one-hundred percent of the time.
This may seem obvious but I think that even us parents forget it sometimes. You may go hours, days, or even weeks without your little one having any problems, but then that one extra hard day or that super rough night hits and you remember really quickly.
Emmy is suddenly sick. It’s not life-threatening or anything, but I guess we don’t really know what it is as the doctor that Kayleigh took her to yesterday didn’t test her for anything or give her anything to help her get better. I guess it’s better than them just writing her a prescription after barely looking at her, but they could have at least tested her for the flu or something, right?
You see, two nights ago, not long after we put Emerson down, Kayleigh and I were passing Emmy’s bedroom door when we began to hear strange noises… it almost sounded like… vomiting. I’ll bet that you’re clever enough to figure out what was going on. We rushed into the room and found our tiny baby holding herself up with her tiny arms over a puddle of puke and attempting to catch her breath.
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This post is your basic, every parents post about their kids because I think about this a lot. So here we go.
Every parent thinks that their kid is “the shit” or the cutest or the smartest, but what happens when your kid truly is totally beautiful or actually the most awesome or is the smartest of all the babies that you know? Is it wrong to believe that about your own kid because you’re totally biased? Do you tell that kid that they’re the smartest or the prettiest and build up some weird expectation for them where it messes with their entire lives and self-esteem someday? What do you/we do with those kids?
I wonder this only because of my own (more than likely biased) views of Emerson. I truly do think she’s the cutest, most beautiful baby I’ve ever seen, as does Kayleigh, but is she really? Are we seeing her as more adorable than she is because we’re her parents? I’m sure because every parent thinks their baby is the cutest.
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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.
A typical morning is happening over at our place.
Emerson is running around, stealing the remote controls, changing all the settings on the TV. Shes over at the record player, turning the dials and blasting music to only be disappointed by the music being too loud (she understands turning the dial up but hasn’t completely grasped that the dial can also turn the music down).
She smacking the dog in the nose while Josh and I try to explain to her that she should be nice to him and give him a good-morning kiss, instead.
She’s chasing Tuffy around trying to grab onto his tail mysteriously whipping back and forth.
Josh is trying to get out the door while I try to decide what to make Emerson for breakfast this morning – my first challenge of every day.
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Today I’m going to talk to you about what it’s like to take a baby on a road trip/car trip/any kind of trip and things that you should remember.
First – you’re going to need yourself and your baby. If you’ve got that, you’re already partially there! Look at you go!
Second – you’ll need some toys. Babies love toys; I don’t care who you are or who your baby is—I bet they love playing with toys! Kids need distractions when you’re on the road, so if you give them something to occupy their hands and mouths with, it can be a big help. It doesn’t take much, really… Emerson would most definitely be fine with something as simple as a water bottle for an extended period of time. The point is, just bring some damn toys, and a variation of them so that your kid doesn’t get bored too fast. Pack the whole darn toy chest if you need to, okay?
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…
This post is similar to what Kayleigh wrote on Monday—her Blissful Friday post—and I figured I could build off of that a little and delve a little deeper into some of the things we do when we have a little time away from Emmy.
The first thing we do is we miss her. I think it’s kinda a given for parents to miss their kids when they’re away from them for even a short time, even when said kid is just upstairs sleeping in another room! You get sort of used to the little devils being around and things can seem pretty still, too still even, when they’re not. So yes, the first thing we do—pretty much always—is we miss the little girl—even when we’ve just left her upstairs.
With that out of the way, I’m going to tell you about things we really do, when Emmy’s not around, when she’s away from us, out of our presence you may say… so here we go.