Author: Family Friendly Daddy Blog

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Finding My Son Up in the Family Tree

August 5, 2011 at 12:51 am , by 

Eight months.

Coincidentally while here  in Sacramento, which is known as “The City of Trees,” I have been doing a little bit of “family tree climbing.”  We are staying at my mother-in-law’s house along with a couple more of my wife’s siblings and their families.  Many of the walls are as thoroughly decorated with family pictures as John Mayer’s arms are consumed with tattoos.

I have been closely inspecting these retro pictures for signs of my son’s looks.  The only time I really see myself in him is sometimes when he cries and laughs.  So knowing that it was my wife’s genes he mainly inherited, I decided to find out exactly where his features came from.

This first picture features my mother-in-law’s grandparents, as well as, her father who is featured far right.  His name was Waldo Tocchini- I definitely see some “Jackness” in his nose and the shape of his head.  I often think of Jack as a 1940′s wrestler.  Seeing Jack’s great-grandfather as a five year-old boy in 1920 only solidifies that old-timey wrestler idea in my head.

I have written before about how Jack reminds me of my wife’s dad- as an adult.  Here is a picture of him when he was a little boy.  We shall see if this is a hint of what Jack will look like.  Also, check out the picture in the far left botom- that’s my mother-in-law as a baby; her nose and mouth look a whole lot like Jack’s!

Here is a more recent picture of one of my wife’s nephew.  For a nanosecond, I had to ask myself if I had somehow teleported into the future and was looking at  a picture of Jack.  Several of the family members have also noted the resemblence between Jack and this first cousin of his.

This is my favorite picture in the house- it’s my wife’s family portrait from 1983.  She’s the two year-old sitting there in her mom’s lap.  This is just simply classicly awesome.

Then I look right next that photograph and see my own family’s portrait from St. Patrick’s Day.  Though my wife and son are related by blood to the Italian-French-Croatian-Norwegian people in all these pictures, I have been grafted into the vine, adding my Italian-Mexican-Scottish-German genes into this new branch of the tree.

So what if my son ends up never really looking much like me.  Chances are, his first child will be a splitting image of me.  Because that’s evidently how things work in this family tree of ours.  I say that, but the truth is, our next kid will probably look the opposite of Jack; like me.

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Surviving My Infant Son’s First Plane Ride

August 4, 2011 at 1:27 am , by 

Eight months.

I think the best way to begin is to share a few things that I would rather do than take an eight month old little boy on a plane from Nashville to Sacramento:

1) Be forced to watch a 24 hour marathon of MTV’s 16 and Pregnant, sending out a Tweet every 15 minutes praising the show, though I despise it more than the awful movie Something Borrowed;  which is the worst movie I’ve ever seen- and that’s saying a lot because I’ve seen When in Rome.

2) Shave “racing stripes” into my hair until they grow out and when people ask me why I have resorted to a hairstyle trend that was briefly popular in 1988, I could only respond by saying “Cut… it… out!”, along with doing the accomanying hand motions, made famous by the character Joey Gladstone on Full House.

3) Walk barefoot on broken glass like Bruce Willis did in the first Die Hard movie.

When taking an infant on a plane, you must provide proof that your child is less than two years old.  I know this now because we did not.  (Dave Stanley, if you are reading this, I’m going to need you to email Jack’s birth certificate to me so we can leave Sacramento on Sunday…).  The lady was nice and let us board the plane anyway.  Thank God.

I’ve never seen my son pee so much, in a reasonable amount of time since his diaper was last changed, that I look down and see a puddle at my feet while standing in line to buy a snack before boarding the plane.  And I didn’t even care that I didn’t have time to wash my moistened hand before boarding the plane.

A guy who looked just like “Comic Book Guy” from The Simpsons brought his Shih Tzu dog on the plane, hogging up the front row of seats; when my wife and I tried to sit in the remaining two seats next to him, he responded sarcastically with, “Uh, sure, I guess it wouldn’t be a bad idea for both a dog and a baby to sit in the same row.”  It wasn’t worth it; we ended up settling for having to sit in the middle of the plane; my wife was in front of me and I was in the row behind.

The flight involved Jack sleeping as long as either my wife or I held him while standing up in the aisle.  My arms are still sore from that.

Of course, Jack won’t remember any of this along with how much he didn’t enjoy the flight.  But at least he can read about it in a few years.

Ah man, there for a minute I actually forgot… We still have do this whole thing again when we fly back to Nashville.  Shazbot!

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Not Being Disappointed by Lowered Expectations

August 4, 2011 at 1:20 am , by 

Eight months.

It’s no secret that part of my “gimmick” as a parent blogger is to simply maintain a positive outlook and tone.  In fact, my optimistic attitude angered and frustrated dozens of people with g>one blog in particular, which caused a brief uproar on Parents.com’s Facebook wall. But while I choose to be Mr. Positive, I also choose to be real; I don’t sugarcoat anything.

One of the major ways I am able to remain positive, as a dad who is potentially always in a situation where I could easily be frustrated simply because of the fact that I am dealing with an infant who has a reputation of being illogical, is to keep my expectations low.  Because with reasonably low expectations, it’s much more difficult to become disappointed.

I personally am more likely to experience an ongoing sense of well-being when my expectations are consistently met; even if those met expectations don’t include a decently positive outcome.  I guess it just feels good to be right about something; especially regarding the uncontrollable and often unpredictable future.

Therefore, our recent flight from Nashville to Sacramento with our son went better than I expected; for the fact that A) our luggage didn’t get lost; B) we didn’t miss our connecting flight in Denver; C) Jack didn’t vomit all over me during the middle of the flight; and D) I wasn’t aware of how hungry I was from not eating dinner before the flight because I was too preoccuppied with my reasonably low expectations about Jack not doing well on the plane ride.

One of the things that being a dad has taught me is that I am the kind of person who has to be (or at least feel) in control of the things in life that I think I am supposed to be able to control.  And when I can’t control certain situations as a parent and am aware of how not in control I am, I get really stressed out and anxious.

So perhaps the worst parts of flying to Sacramento were actually just in my head.  Still though, in reality, it wasn’t a smooth and seamless transition.  Instead of continuing the entertaining details and stories of the trip in this post, I will instead tell all about it in the following post.

 

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Flying from Nashville to Sacramento with a Baby

August 2, 2011 at 12:15 am , by 

Eight months.

Here’s to the land of In-N-Out Burger and Jamba Juice!

This evening, the three of us will be boarding a plane to Sacramento, California. My wife, who is from there and is one of ten kids, obviously has a lot of family out there and this will be the first time that they will be meeting Jack.  When it comes to this trip, I have preconceived ideas about what will happen.

On my list of pro’s, there’s the fact that once we get there, we will be having a very relaxing, enjoyable time hanging out with the family.  In addition to seeing everyone, I look forward to running each day amidst the palm trees during the perfectly cool, Sacramento mornings.

I will not be bringing my laptop, therefore I am taking a break from The Dadabase for a few days. Basically, I am unplugging from the real world. Granted, I’ll be taking my camera, along with a notebook, to bookmark the stories involving Jack that will ultimately become Dadabase posts.

The downside to all this is that we have to get there and come back, on a plane, with an eight month old little boy.  I just can’t convince myself that I will find that process to be less than slightly unnerving.

I am remembering myself from ten years ago as a 20 year old guy who got so annoyed by having to sit near a crying baby on a plane.  Now, I will be the parent of that baby; for six hours there and six hours back.

One good thing about the flights is Jack has entered his phase of being obsessed with his mommy.  If she’s in the room and not holding him, he’s upset, for the most part.  At least he will get plenty of “mommy minutes.”

It’s stressful to think that after spending so much effort to get him on a mostly predictable sleeping schedule, that he will be spending nearly a week in a time zone that is two hours behind what he is used to.  Will that mean he’s ready for sleep an hour before dinner and that he will wake up full of energy at 4 AM?  I already know the answer.

You take the good with the bad and call it life:  Sacramento will be splendid as it always is, but flying to the other coast with an infant will be rough.  It’s the sweet and the sour; I accept it as my reality.

It will most likely be nearly a week before I publish a new post. Please don’t think that I have abandoned this blog.  Instead, I cordially invite you to catch up on my 130+ other posts here in the meantime; as well as Parents.com’s other bloggers.

To find my older stuff you may have missed, just look to the right of the screen where it says “archives.”  They go all the way back to April 2010 when I began daddy blogging; my wife was just a couple of months pregnant back then.

Wish me luck and sanity for the flight.  I will surely need it.  Seriously, I am so craving an In-N-Out burger all of the sudden.

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Thanksgiving in July: Tofurky Style

August 1, 2011 at 12:15 am , by 

Eight months.

Every year for Thanksgiving, Vanderbilt University gives a free turkey to all of its employees; unless you’re a vegetarian.  To be clear, my wife and I are not full vegetarians; though the majority of our meals are indeed meatless.

If this makes any sense, our diet reflects a kosher version of the Mediterranean food pyramid.  Needless to say, last November right as our son was about to be born, my wife received her free Tofurky, instead of a regular turkey. However, because he was born so close to Thanksgiving last year, we never cooked our Tofurky.

It has remained in a friend’s freezer for nearly nine months, until this past weekend.  We decided to have a very belated Thanksgiving dinner… with a “turkey” made of tofu.  But that’s not all.  A Tofurky comes with stuffing, gravy, a “jerky wishbone,” and even a chocolate cake dessert.

Since Jack’s 7 o’clock bedtime prevented him from joining the festivities, he instead had some zucchini and pears that my wife prepared for him with our Baby Bullet.  Jack will turn one a few weeks before Thanksgiving, so maybe he will get to try some of the real bird… or some of the fake bird, I should say.

So what was I thankful to God for during our Thanksgiving in July this past weekend?

That both my wife and I were able to return to our employers here in Nashville after an eight month sabbatical which we thought was a permanent move.  Not only that, but the fact that both of us are truly enjoying our jobs with a newfound appreciation.

That we were able to get Jack into a really good daycare which is right down the block from where I work.

That despite my wife’s car breaking down for the 14th time, we didn’t get totally stranded in the process; and that my parents are letting us borrow a car from them until we can get my wife’s car fixed.

I am thankful for friends who are gracious enough to allow my family of three to stay with them for the next couple of months until our renters move out of our condo.

And of course, I am thankful for my wife and son whom I can share a July Thanksgiving meal which includes an eight month old Tofurky.  Thank God for them and all that God has taught me through them so far.

Now that July has passed, I need to get ready for Christmas in August…