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Dear Jack: Bribing Me By Calling Me “Cool Daddy”

3 years, 11 months.

Dear Jack: Bribing Me By Calling Me “Cool Daddy”

Dear Jack,

This morning as Mommy buckled you into your car seat, I was sitting up front in the 2015 Buick LaCrosse we’ve been driving this week.

After she already had you buckled, you then decided you wanted to take off your pullover, even though it was chilly outside.

I saw it as a way you were just trying to stall Mommy leaving. She had to leave that very minute in order to get to work on time.

So Mommy had to leave on that note, walking to her car to drive to the other side of Nashville.

You were somewhat upset, raising your voice at me because you wanted your pullover off and because Mommy had to leave because of your attempted stall.

To take control of the situation, I warned you as I backed away from our house that I would have to take away your stuffed animal you were holding if you couldn’t focus on something else.

You didn’t… so I did.

Obviously that made you more upset, but it worked- it got your attention. You stopped focusing on the pullover and instead were completely focused on getting your stuffed animal back.

“Jack, say something nice and I’ll give you your animal back,” I explained, in my attempt to redirect the focus to a more positive one.

Silence.

Ten seconds later, you proclaimed, “Daddy, I said it!”

I responded by telling you I didn’t hear you say anything.

Then you barely mumbled something under your breath.

“Jack, you have to say it loud enough where I can hear it. Just say something positive or nice and you’ll get your animal back,” I insisted.

This time you said it loud and clear:

“Cool Daddy,” you replied.

I begin instantly laughing out loud, so you did as well.

“Jack, did you just call me a ‘cool Daddy’ to be nice so you would get your animal back?”

You shook your head yes as you laughed.

So it’s official: I am a cool Daddy and you got your stuffed animal back.

Love,

Daddy

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Dear Jack: Your Friend Lucy Says I’m A Nice Daddy

3 years, 9 months.

Dear Jack: Your Friend Lucy Says I’m A Nice Daddy

Dear Jack,

Last Thursday as I was picking you up from KinderCare and walking you to our car, your friend Lucy saw us walking by and proclaimed to her own Daddy, “That’s Jack’s Daddy. He’s a nice Daddy!”

I had really never considered my reputation among the 3 year-olds of your school.

Maybe I really am a “nice Daddy.”

Hey, I’ll take a compliment anytime I can; even from a 3 year-old.

When I walk in each day to pick you up from school, your friends always begin talking to me; like they’re supposed to or something. It’s been that way for months, actually…

Your friend Avery always tells me, “My Mommy picks me up today.”

Jaedyn always describes what she’s drawing and shows it to me.

Ethan immediately hugs my leg, like I’m his actually Daddy.

And when I see you, you always run to me and I lift you up to the air like you’re a rocket.

So looking back, I guess you and I do make a scene each day when I pick you up.

Ultimately, I guess that makes me a “nice Daddy.”

(Coincidently, I happened to meet Lucy’s Mommy, Autumn, this week for the first time; I took some pictures of you and Lucy playing together.)

I can honestly say I’ve never considered my reputation as a “nice Daddy” among your peers. I guess I’ve just always subconsciously assumed that their dads act the same way when they pick them up each day.

And that’s still what I assume. I assume all your friends’ fathers treat them the same way as I treat you.

How could they not?

Being a good father (and husband) are the roles in life I take the most seriously.

My understanding is that fatherhood is the one of the main forms of identity and self-realization for the modern American man.

Doesn’t every man think the same way as I do? The dads I know all do, at least.

My guy friends are all “nice Daddies.”

In fact, I bet a lot of them are actually nicer than I am.

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Dear Jack: Reading Bedtime Stories With A Scream Mask On

3 years, 9 months.

Dear Jack: Reading Bedtime Stories With A Scream Mask On

Dear Jack,

This past weekend for Labor Day, we took a road trip in the 2015 Buick LaCrosse through Chattanooga and then to your Nonna and Papa’s house. More on that later…

With all the driving around we did, Mommy and I needed to make sure you got a good nap on Sunday.

As we made our way upstairs to what used to be your Aunt Dana’s bedroom, you saw a Scream mask and a hockey mask I had from high school, lying in the floor of my bedroom which hasn’t been cleaned since… circa 1999.

You asked me to read you a bedtime story, while wearing the Scream mask, before you went down for your nap.

So I did…

For your story, I chose a book from my own childhood: Sesame Street’s Ernie Gets Lost.

I had to make sure my voice matched the character of the mask, so I did my best impression of the voice modulator used in the Scream movies.

You decided you wanted me to use a “quieter” voice instead, so I changed it to a good ole fashioned falsetto female voice, which was much more pleasant sounding- technically.

Keep in mind, this was all your idea. Good thing Mommy and I had the camera handy!

After nap time, the scary masks ended up downstairs and they were passed around for more entertainment. Your cousin Calla appreciated the masks as well, for some reason.

Dear Jack: Reading Bedtime Stories With A Scream Mask On

So yeah, it was pretty much the typical American Labor Day holiday… Scream mask and hockey mask included.

I have a feeling that when we drive back there in a month for your Uncle Andrew’s 30th birthday, you’re going to want me to wear the mask and read a bedtime story again.

This may have been the beginning of a new tradition! What should have been terrifying was simply entertaining, apparently serving as the best way to transition you to peaceful sleep.

[Cue Metallica’s “Enter Sandman.”]

Love,

Daddy

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dad from day one: Playtime with an Infant

Week 1.

It doesn’t take being a full week into this to realize that there are predictable patterns of my baby: he eats, he poops/pees, he plays, and he sleeps.  Of course the word “plays”, when referring to a week-old infant, is somewhat limited being that he doesn’t really have active neck muscles yet.  I have to turn his head to show him where the action is, but that’s okay.

When he’s more awake, I like to box with Baby Jack.  He instinctively puts his hands out like a boxer- and because we keep mittens on his hands to keep him from scratching his face, it’s only natural that he makes for a perfect baby boxer.  Of course, it’s his fists versus my pointer fingers.  And I only push my fingers up against his “boxing gloves”.  We are in the beginning stages of “dad wrestles son”.

Another playtime activity is when I lay back against a wall or the bed headboard, placing him in my lap.  Then I use my legs as a sort of elevator/recliner, which serves as a fun ride for him.  Something else I can do in this position is to flex my stomach muscles very hard, straining hard enough to cause my stomach to vibrate or shake quickly.  That makes Jack vibrate and shake too- it’s an easy way to get him to smile.  When playing with him, I basically just think to myself: “What are all the ways I would like to annoy a cat if it would let me?”  It gives me good direction as a dad.

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dad from day one: She’s Having a Baby

The word on the street is true.  And we couldn’t be any happier about it!

Three weeks ago my Mexican grandma (who has always been very religious-superstitious) called my sister, saying, “Do you have something to tell me?”

“No…”

“Are you sure?  You don’t have anything to tell me?”

“Nnnnno…”  (more hesitantly than the first time)

“I had a dream.  I had a dream where I saw your grandfather in Heaven and he was so happy.  He was pushing a baby stroller.”

In other words, my grandma assumed the wrong grandchild.  She also told my sister about another dream she had where she saw “the most beautiful little girl in a rocking chair”.  We’ll know in about eight more weeks whether or not that second dream is true.

Something I never realized about finding out you’re going to be a first time parent is that it has to stay a secret for a while.  Long enough to make sure it’s not a false alarm.  Long enough to confirm with a doctor.  Long enough to get a sonogram.

We’ve known for over a month now.  It’s a huge secret to keep from the entire world for that long.  What a relief!  Hey, we’re having a baby!

Expected arrival is on my dad’s 54th birthday:  November 11th.

Obviously I’ve got a lot more to say about it all and I will continue to encounter plenty more as time goes on.  Therefore, this is the first of many in my new series I call “dad from day one”.  While it seems pretty easy to find material out there for expectant moms, not so much for expectant dads.

Expectant dads don’t encounter physical changes, but they do experience psychological ones.  In this new series I will be journaling the whole process, from the time we found out we’re having a baby, until… well I can’t say until the baby is born because that’s only the beginning.  And speaking of the beginning, when is day one?

Was it the day of conception?  The day we found out?  Today, the day I’m publicly telling everyone I haven’t already told in person or on the phone?  I don’t know.  Day One is the beginning of this new person I am becoming.

In the likeness of a TV show I’ve never seen but heard good things about, How I Met Your Mother, another goal of “dad from day one” is to create an archive for this kid to come.  To show him or her what was going through my head during all this.

Eighteen years ago, I was given a blank journal by a classmate from school as a Christmas present.  Inspired by my favorite cartoon show at the time, Doug, I remember my first entry:

“Dear Journal, I will be writing everyday so that in the future when I have kids of my own one day…”
Then I stopped.  I embarrassed myself with the phrase “kids of my own one day” because it wasn’t the way I actually talked.  It just seemed too weird.  I threw the journal in the garbage.

Here I am 18 years later, seven months away from the big day.  About to have a “kid of my own”.  Let’s do this thing.

All pictures with the “JHP” logo were taken by Joe Hendricks Photography:

Blog- www.photojoeblog.com

Website- www.joehendricks.com