My toddler was playing on her playhouse tonight. As she is wont to do, she performed increasingly risky physical stunts. Her inner Evel Knievel was breaking free to the surface. Hilariously, she began telling herself repeatedly, “Be careful. Don’t fall. Be careful. Don’t fall.” At first, I thought this was some kind of attempt to assure … Read more
The other day, I saw my daughter’s little magenta coat lying on the bed. I was caught off guard by the number of vivid thoughts that suddenly flooded my mind as a result of just seeing Harper’s coat.
Mormon baby blessings are a wonderful ritual, but what does it mean if even a feminist like me overlooked simple and obvious ways to include my wife?
My precious little daughter Harper came two weeks early, healthy and happy. I wanted to quickly jot down a few simple thoughts about her first couple of days.
I try to disentangle the reasons I wanted to become a dad. There are so many intertwined, contradictory, ambiguous factors. Some are selfish. Some are noble. Some are naive. Some are wise. I have faith that parenthood epitomizes the concept of “rewarding sacrifice” as well as anything else I can do in life.
As we stand about six weeks out from the birth of the little girl who will make us parents, we’re constantly batting back and forth parenting ideas. Soon theory will need to become practice, and one practice I’m determined to employ is teaching my kids Spanish from birth.
“Yeah, being a parent will be a challenge, but it’ll be more rewarding than challenging,” the naive dad-to-be says to himself. “Heh, just you wait and see…” comes the smirk from been-there-done-that parents. I think many of life’s experiences can benefit from properly managed expectations.
I’m excited to be a dad. I’m scared to be a dad. It’s going to change my life unlike any other event I’ve experienced. There’s no going back.