Ramblings of a New Dad: Double Digits

[Warning: Post contains profanity for comedic purposes. Deal with it.]

Well here we are at ten months old and... wait. Did she… she didn't. Did she? She did. She DID. Those were steps. Honest-to-goodness steps. She walked. Dear sweet bejeebus holy crap on a cracker, my kid is walking.
 
Fuuuuuuuuuudge.

Only I didn't say fuuuuu… fuck. Okay? I said fuck. Pretty loudly if I recall. My daughter is walking. WALKING.

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.
 
(Take a deep breath there sport. Babies do that.)
 
She wasn't even ten months old yet.
 
(Oh. Well… fuck.)
 
Right??? Yes, dear readers, my daughter, at the ripe old age of 9 months and 22 days decided that crawling is so passé. I mean, seriously. Crawling is for babies. That's like ordering a non-fat, low-foam, high temp soy latte from Starbucks when everybody is ordering a skim milk, mid-foam, high temp latte.
 
(I… don't think that's a thing.)
 
I hope not. Because if I got stuck behind someone ordering that at Starbucks I just might be compelled to shove a handful of those green plastic stirrers up their a –
 
(Whoa! Simmer down, sparky!)
 
Look, I'm a little on edge lately. Yes, my daughter is walking. It's the most blessedly, amazingly, terrifyingly, awesomesauciest thing ever. To see the look of pure pride in her tiny little eyes, and the widest grin of achievement stretch across her tiny little lips, truly is a highlight of parenthood.
 
(But….)
 
She's. Into. EV-ER-Y-THING. Ever see Fantastic Beasts? She's like a nifler and every single thing in the house is shiny. Books? Shiny. That basket over there? Shiny. The dog? Shiny. Wait, is that… I don't care. Shiny. Thankfully, a friend whose child outgrew the need for baby gates sold me the ones she used to use for her son. That includes one of those plastic, multi-section play-pen-type things. Now my living room looks like a cattle yard. Only with toys. And less manure. But only slightly less manure, because she's also eating more and more solid foods.
 
Speaking of solid foods, allow me to offer this bit of new-parental advice: if you're going to introduce avocado into your child's diet, strip the kid down before placing him/her in the highchair. Trust me on this one, or that cute onesie that Aunt Edna gave you at the shower will, after three treatments with OxyClean, bleach, and something I think was a combination of turpentine and commercial grade de-laminator, still become a rag with which daddy will check the oil in the Jeep.
 
(You didn't know avocado stains?)
 
WE'RE STILL NEW AT THIS GODDAMMIT!
 
(Okay, okay, jeez.)
 
I suppose it's more that we weren't prepared for the joyous "spreading of the avocado in places we didn't know there were places" in which our daughter would engage. I'm pretty sure the dog still has avocado in her ears. Luckily she's going to the vet on Saturday.
 
This is an interesting time in parenting, for sure. From months nine to twelve, you are full-on in the "developmental milestones" zone. And with each milestone your child reaches comes a whole new, well, life for you. Everything changes, sometimes literally on a daily basis. Right now my daughter has learned to walk, is eating table food, has not one but four new teeth breaking through on the top, and is about a syllable away from turning sounds into actual words.
 
Do you know what that does to a parent?
 
(We're guessing you're going to tell us….)
 
You're very astute. I'll tell you what it does – It stresses them right the fu…*ahem* Okay I really need to stop swearing, or that first word will, in fact, be fudge. Only not fudge.

 Did I mention the ear infection? Yeah, those are fun, too. Remember those days of infancy when your child would wake every couple of hours? Yeah, it's like that again. Add in the teething, and the cries you hear coming from the other room are about a bazillion decibels louder than anything you've heard before. And you even went to that one Poison concert in high school because you heard the pretty blonde you liked back then was going, only you learned that she didn't actually go and then you were stuck having to listen to crap like 'Unskinny Bop' until you felt like you ears were going to bleed.  

(I…. don't even know what to say to that.)


My point is, the crying is loud. And it sucks rocks, because by and large your child is in pain and there isn't a thing you can do about it. There is nothing worse in this world than seeing your child in pain and not being able to fix it. Nothing. That is a stark reality you learn all too quickly when you become a parent. And let's face it: this is just the beginning. There's going to be scrapes and bruises and breaks and broken hearts and all I'll be able to do is offer a hug and a kiss and hope the pain my daughter feels fades as quickly as possible. 

 I read somewhere that every time something terrible happens to your baby/toddler that is in any way worse than whatever terrible thing immediately preceded it, it will literally be the worst thing that has even happened in your child's life.

(Wow. That's actually true. Man, that sucks.)
 
Tell me about it. Can you imagine having every bad thing that happens to you pretty much be the worst thing ever? Knowing that, as a parent, breaks your heart. Still, it's part of the process. We all went through it. I went through it, and I turned out fine.
 
(Well, I wouldn't go that fa—)
 
Shut it you. I'm far more normal than a lot of people. There's a guy in Saskatoon that can't go to the bathroom if there's a moose in his yard.
 
(Really?)
 
No. Maybe. I mean, I'm guessing. Have you ever been to Saskatoon? People are a little weird up there.
 
(*bangs head on desk*)
 
I'M KIDDING. I've never actually been to Saskatoon, either. But there's a lot of weirdos out there. My neurosis is generally controllable, and comical. Nevertheless, I will still go into the nursery every night to ensure I can hear my daughter breathing before I'm able to go to bed. I'm sure that will change in time, but part of me doesn't want it to. Because right now I end my night, every night, staring at my daughter, and that's one of the best things in the world.
 
Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go pick my daughter up from daycare. Hopefully I left the gates up when I left for work this morning, otherwise I'll be running around like a madman chasing a bi-pedal ten-month old the second I get her out of her car seat.  Imagine me, chasing the offspring, with Benny Hill music playing in the background. That's pretty much life now.
 
(You sonofabitch. You just ear-wormed us with a song that doesn't even have any words!)
 
You're welcome. But picture it… That's my life. That's parenting a nearly one-year old child.
 
And I wouldn't change a second of it.
 
 
© 2018 J.J. Goodman. Al rights reserved.