Natalie learns for the first time that, "I am her father"Babies are hard.
But you knew that. You don't read this blog for obvious statements of fact, you read this blog for the insight, the unique perspective, and the poop jokes.
So let me be more precise. Babies are like a puzzle and just when you get one piece into place, another pops loose. Babies are like an old car that needs constant tuning. Babies are like onions, all the layers stink at one time or another...
Don't like metaphors? Fine.
Babies are hard.
Back to my point...recently we've been battling some stinkyness on Natalie's outer-layer, or as I like to affectionately call it, her "epidermy". She has been struck repeatedly with bouts of Eczema. It's not terribly surprising since eczema is common in babies and since her mother also has sensitive skin and since it's been well-established that I'm a girly-man and have sensitive everything...(I'm not sure that came out right)
The doctor first prescribed steroid cream (I'm already filing a notice with baseball commissioner, Bud Selig, to make sure she will still be eligible for play in 2028 as the first female Red Sox pitcher) and when that failed to get rid of the nasty skin scourge, some anti-bacterial cream.
This multi-faceted approach initially subdued the rash but every time we though we had it beat, it popped up again like an annoying little mole, or an annoying little democratic candidate.
So we keep battling the rash and trying to keep her skin clean and moisturized and all the time Natalie seems completely undisturbed by her ailment. Not once has she scratched it or become visibly upset by a problem that Sara and I have spent hours and several doctor appointments trying to solve.
Natalie seems much more concerned about the things we can do nothing about. The hiccups that happen below the surface; she cries when she's hungry, she cries when she has to poop, she cries for countless reasons we may never understand.
I've come to the realization that this battle over external and internal problems is one that Sara and I better get used to. Some of her current inner-issues will be easier to recognize once she starts communicating more clearly and there will be a period of her life when mommy and daddy will be able to fix all her little scrapes both above and below the surface.
And then she'll hit adolescence.
Once again burying some pains deep under her "epidermy" and no matter how much we'll want to cure what ales her, we'll only be able to provide support. Mending where we can, understanding and staying quiet when we must.
And I wonder how did I get here? How did a blog that I fully intended to be a humorous rant with a couple star-wars references thrown in, (Here's a picture of Darth Vader to make me feel better) turn into a serious reflection on Natalie's future?
I suppose this is what happens to a parents mind. You live day to day with a weary eye always on tomorrow, hoping desperately none of the mistakes you make along the way scar either the surface or the tiny ticking magic going on below it.
And somewhere whoever created this great and perfect mess of existence says, "Learn now what you must know tomorrow."
And I look at this perfect little creature we've created, forever unblemished in my eyes and say,
"May the force be with her."
But you knew that. You don't read this blog for obvious statements of fact, you read this blog for the insight, the unique perspective, and the poop jokes.
So let me be more precise. Babies are like a puzzle and just when you get one piece into place, another pops loose. Babies are like an old car that needs constant tuning. Babies are like onions, all the layers stink at one time or another...
Don't like metaphors? Fine.
Babies are hard.
Back to my point...recently we've been battling some stinkyness on Natalie's outer-layer, or as I like to affectionately call it, her "epidermy". She has been struck repeatedly with bouts of Eczema. It's not terribly surprising since eczema is common in babies and since her mother also has sensitive skin and since it's been well-established that I'm a girly-man and have sensitive everything...(I'm not sure that came out right)
The doctor first prescribed steroid cream (I'm already filing a notice with baseball commissioner, Bud Selig, to make sure she will still be eligible for play in 2028 as the first female Red Sox pitcher) and when that failed to get rid of the nasty skin scourge, some anti-bacterial cream.
This multi-faceted approach initially subdued the rash but every time we though we had it beat, it popped up again like an annoying little mole, or an annoying little democratic candidate.
So we keep battling the rash and trying to keep her skin clean and moisturized and all the time Natalie seems completely undisturbed by her ailment. Not once has she scratched it or become visibly upset by a problem that Sara and I have spent hours and several doctor appointments trying to solve.
Natalie seems much more concerned about the things we can do nothing about. The hiccups that happen below the surface; she cries when she's hungry, she cries when she has to poop, she cries for countless reasons we may never understand.
I've come to the realization that this battle over external and internal problems is one that Sara and I better get used to. Some of her current inner-issues will be easier to recognize once she starts communicating more clearly and there will be a period of her life when mommy and daddy will be able to fix all her little scrapes both above and below the surface.
And then she'll hit adolescence.
Once again burying some pains deep under her "epidermy" and no matter how much we'll want to cure what ales her, we'll only be able to provide support. Mending where we can, understanding and staying quiet when we must.
And I wonder how did I get here? How did a blog that I fully intended to be a humorous rant with a couple star-wars references thrown in, (Here's a picture of Darth Vader to make me feel better) turn into a serious reflection on Natalie's future?
I suppose this is what happens to a parents mind. You live day to day with a weary eye always on tomorrow, hoping desperately none of the mistakes you make along the way scar either the surface or the tiny ticking magic going on below it.
And somewhere whoever created this great and perfect mess of existence says, "Learn now what you must know tomorrow."
And I look at this perfect little creature we've created, forever unblemished in my eyes and say,
"May the force be with her."
1 comment:
Thanks, daddy, for the insight. Immediately fly to where ever I may be and smack me upside the head with an aluminum bat should you ever hear out of my mouth "hmm...I was thinking about having a kid". (I'll reimburse you for the ticket)
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