Dear Baby,
I strongly suspect that in the coming years, I will tell you a great many lies. They will come from a place of concern. They will come from my not wanting to be a terrible parent. But they will be lies, nonetheless.
"Yes, Santa Claus is real," I will tell you. I don't know why I'll tell you that. I don't know why anyone tells their children that. I've thought about it a lot. What I've come up with is that it's fun for the adults to see you the children believe in magic. They get to tell you that magic exists. And you're the only ones who believe them. And maybe that allows the adults to keep believing in magic a little bit. Or maybe we just unquestioningly follow the traditions that our adults laid out before us.
I often wonder why we don't just tell you that the presents are from us. You'll still be stoked about the presents. And you won't be devastated when that little bitch in 2nd grade tells you there is no Santa. But you won't experience the joy and wonder of believing. I don't know. But I'm going to lie to you about Santa.
"When you die, you go to Heaven," I will tell you. This one I can explain. You'll be super young and looking for answers, and I won't have any. And rather than trying to console a five-year old with a long philosophical discussion about how no one really knows what the hell is going on, why people die, or why anyone exists in the first place, but that it doesn't really matter because we're here so we might as well enjoy it, I'll just lie. Confidently. "You go to Heaven."
"How do you know?" You'll ask.
"I'm your dad. I know everything." And you'll go to sleep. With one less grandparent perhaps. Sad. But true. That shit's going to happen.
Later, you'll see your first scary movie. You won't be able to sleep, because you'll be worried that Michael Myers is going to get you in your sleep.
"I'll protect you," I'll say. Again, lying. Sure, Michael Myers isn't going to get you. Michael Myers doesn't exist. But if someone wants to kill you enough that they'll break into a third story apartment and find their way to your bedroom? That kind of conviction is going to be tough to stop.
Let's back it up a step. I'm 5'7". If someone really wants to kill you in broad daylight, I'll try to protect you. But in all honesty, I'm kind of a candy-ass.
There will be some lies of convenience told to get you to stop doing some unwanted behavior. I can't predict what these will be. But some of the more scarring ones my mother told me included:
[Scene: 6-year old me, having developed a habit of chewing off hangnails even when there are none.]
GRANDMA: "Don't chew on the skin around your fingernails."
ME: "Why not?"
GRANDMA: "It will give you cancer."
Scars.
[Scene: 3-year old me, in the bathroom, pulling my foreskin over the tip of my penis because it makes it disappear. My mom enters the bathroom.]
GRANDMA: "Stop doing that."
ME: "Why? It's funny."
GRANDMA: "If you keep doing that worms will come out."
Scars.
[Scene: 8-year old me, comes home from baseball practice.]
GRANDMA: "Go wash your hands for dinner.
ME: "But I don't want to."
GRANDMA: "Go wash your hands! There are germs on them."
ME: "What are germs?"
GRANDMA: "Microscopic things you can't see that can get you sick."
Scars. Sometimes even the truth leaves a mark. Point being, we're going to lose patience with questions at some point, and I'm just going to lie to get you to stop doing something. Because it's easier than coming up with a reason. Second point...your grandmother is a crazy person.
When you get to sex education class, whenever that is taught these days, you'll learn about the birds and the bees. If you're anything like I was, it probably won't make much sense to you. You'll be too busy giggling over mentions of "penises" and "vaginas." And in your school's effort to make it all make sense, you'll have a homework assignment to sit down with your parents and ask about your birth.
"Were you ready for me when I was born?"
"Of course!" I'll say. But that's going to be a big load of bullshit. "Your mother and I knew exactly what we were getting into," we'll tell you. But the truth is, I don't know what the fuck I'm doing right now. I know that I have a long and illustrious career of neglecting plants though. Most recently I bought a cactus four months ago and have managed to kill it already. So I'm really hoping I have better luck with you!
And I know that by the time you're asking me this, your mother and I will have probably done all sorts of weird accidental emotional damage to you. We'll have been trying so hard to not overschedule, underschedule, overcompensate for our own weirdness, cause any dependency issues, this, that, and the other thing, that something will go wrong somewhere. And that will continue for your (and our) entire lives. Not only did we not know what we were doing, we will never know what we are doing. Nobody does.
But not knowing what we're doing? That's what makes it all so interesting. And that's the truth.
Waiting for your arrival,
Dad
Thursday, September 12, 2013
Sunday, September 1, 2013
G Is For Giraffe
One of my wife's friends got her a bunch of wall decals for our baby. I picked them out. Hell, I picked out everything. But especially these wall decals. I'm making a point of pointing this out, so that it's clear when I start getting angry at these wall decals, it is clear that my anger is not towards this friend, or her wonderful gift. Rather, my anger is directed at the makers of these wall decals, Blik.
My wife didn't want a baby shower. My wife didn't want to buy anything for our baby really. Which is at times aggravating. Yesterday, I told her we still need to get a mobile for the baby's crib, and she rolled her eyes and said, "Really? More things? You need to get your spending under control."
That really happened. Two days ago, I hear her on the phone with her cousin lamenting that I went out to the store and bought the baby "more clothes." By "more clothes," she meant pajamas. The baby has no pajamas. The baby has I think 8 onesies and two pairs of pants. I own probably 30-40 shirts and at least 8 pairs of pants/shorts. I also don't shit on my clothes and throw up on myself several times a week. So I'm thinking "more clothes" are necessary, and that I married a weirdo. But that's neither here nor there. (Love you lady!)
So I made her have a little shower. When she relented, she said, "But I'm not registering for anything." So I proceeded to register for all of our baby's shit. (In fairness, my wife did go to the registry and criticize EVERYTHING I put on there. "A mustache binky? Really? What if it's a girl?" "Then she'll have a mustache. It's a baby.") In my registering, I became a complete and total weirdo.
I started looking for rugs that had learning agendas. I found a giant rug that was a map of the world. The names of each continent are on there, and each ocean. I remember in 1st grade, a girl named Laura made fun of me because I didn't know how many continents there were. Not my baby. My baby's going to know his/her geography.
I see a wall map of the United States. Each state peels off the map, so you can play pin the state on the country! Brilliant! My child will be as smart as a whip!
And what's the first thing? The pillar upon which all learning comes from? Reading! Which is based on... the ALPHABET!!!
Which brings me to the wall decals that I was talking about before I decided to make fun of my beloved. I find these wall decals of the alphabet, and my eyes light up. "Perfect! Each letter has a picture of an animal on there. The child will learn the alphabet, the states, and the world just by osmosis!"
Unfortunately, baby's father never learned what osmosis means. Wah, wah. (That's a trombone sound, not crying. It's also not true. I know what osmosis means, and I understand that I'm using it wrong, but it's also kind of right. I actually wouldn't be surprised if definition two or three of osmosis was something like "learning through immersion or being surrounded by a thing that is being learned about." Probably worded better than that. But whatever. I'm off the rails here.)
So I'm really pumped about these letters. I put them on the registry. Ellen's friend gets them for her. I'm pumped. Ellen's pumped. The friend is pumped. But I'm also realizing what a pain in the ass it's going to be to put these things on the wall.
I'm going to want to make them look reasonable. So I'll want to measure the wall, divide a wall into 26 equal lengths, so the letters are perfectly spaced. Each one will need to be measured to the ceiling as well to ensure they're all level. Suddenly, this seems like a lot of work, and my parenting skills fail me for the first time.
"Hmmm, I really think this will be great for my child. But it will require work... Nope, not gonna do it."
And so the letters have sat there for weeks without getting put on the wall.
This evening, though, after a pretty productive cleaning day, I get ambitious. "Honey," I say, "let's put up those letters."
"Hooray!"
I survey the room, and briefly discuss with my wife that I don't want to do all of the work that I mentioned above. The stuff about measuring and leveling. I will, however, put them in an abstract up and down on one of the walls.
"Yeah, for sure. Don't measure. That seems hard." Glad to see we're both failures as parents. I knew I could count on her!
So we decide on a wall. I get up on the ladder. And she peels off and hands me the letter "A."
"Here's 'A'."
"Let's see, what's 'A'? An antelope. 'A' is for antelope. Seems a little high concept for a child. But okay, there's not a lot of animals that start with 'A.'"
B is a bear. C is a cow. D is a dolphin. E is an elephant. All reasonable. F is a frog.
"Here's 'G'."
"Ooo, what is it?"
"Guess?"
"A... goat?"
"Nope."
"Gorilla?"
"No, that would be good though." She hands me the 'G' animal. "It's a goldfish."
"'G' is for goldfish? Really?"
"Yeah, I would have thought giraffe."
"Right, totally, that makes more sense than goat or gorilla. It should totally be a giraffe."
"Definitely not a goldfish though."
"Agreed. That's weird. Well maybe they didn't want to confuse the kids by doing an animal with a soft 'g.' Kids might think it's a 'j'."
"Yeah, maybe. That's possible." We move on. It threw me for a bit, but we moved on. I accepted it. G is a goldfish. H is a horse. I is an iguana. Which gave me pause, except then it dawned on me there really aren't a lot of I animals. Ibex. But if antelope is pushing it, ibex is waaaay pushing it. So good call. I is for iguana.
J is for jellyfish. Not jaguar? Whatever. Jellyfish is reasonable. K is for kangaroo. Of course. L is for lion, king of the jungle, even though they don't really live in the jungle. But that's not an issue for the wall decals, but for society at large. Can we stop it with the king of the jungle business? It's very misleading. I thought lions lived in the jungle for a really long time. There are probably a lot of people who still think lions live in the jungle. Newsflash: No jungle. Also, I would take a gorilla over a lion in a fight any day. Lions aren't king of shit.
M: Monkey. Duh. N is for narwhal? Really? Again I have to stop. (Also, now as I'm writing this, it occurs to me that A is for alligator in real life. Not fucking antelope. What kind of stupid animal alphabet ranks antelope higher than alligators? Why wouldn't you introduce a child to an alligator before you introduce them to a goddamn antelope? It doesn't make any sense.) "Narwhal? The unicorn of the sea? That's what we've got for 'N'? It's so obscure."
"Yeah, but what else is there?" My wife asks. We stop and think. I come up with nothing.
"All right. Narwhal it is. I just think the kid's going to be bummed out when we go to the zoo for the first time."
"Ha. It's true. Mommy, where's the narwhal? Sorry honey, you're never ever going to see one of those."
"Heartbreaking. All right, hit me with 'O'. Let me guess, octopus?"
"Yeah, that's pretty obvious. Guess it could have been an owl."
"Otter."
"Lot of 'O' animals."
"O R there? Get it? Like in Rushmore."
"I have no idea what you're talking about. 'P.' Guess what 'P' is."
"It's gotta be a python."
"Guess again."
"Oh duh, a panda."
"Nope."
"Piranha?"
"It's a pig."
"A pig? What the fuck is that? Pigs suck. That's so boring."
"Pigs are cute."
"Pigs are dinner!"
"You're really getting worked up about this."
"Well, I mean come on. The giraffe was a goldfish. Now we've got another opportunity and it's a pig? I mean come on."
"Yeah, it's true."
Q is a quail. Again, mildly disappointing. Not because I expected there to be any cool 'Q' animals. But just because quails kind of suck. They're pretty obscure. But whatever. R will be cool.
Only R is a rooster. Why is R a goddamn rooster? How about a rhinoceros? That's way cooler than a rooster. A raccoon. A rabbit. A rattlesnake. Well, it can't be a rattlesnake, because S is going to be a snake.
My wife hands me 'S.' "You're not gonna like this."
"A sheep?! What kind of farmyard bullshit is this? The package didn't say farmyard animals A to Z. It said animals. Sheep! That also throws off the whole 'G isn't for Giraffe because we don't want to confuse the kids with the soft 'g' sound and they mix up the 'g' and the 'j' theory.' So now I'm back to that. If 's' is sheep, 'g' should definitely be giraffe."
"It's true," she says, shaking her head.
"'S' is for snake. Everybody knows that 's' is for snake. It's biblical. It's thousands of years old. S is for snake. S is not for sheep."
"Sheep are okay. It's not so bad."
"It's not so bad? Our child is going to go to the zoo and want to spend all of its time at the bullshit petting zoo with those stupid smelly animals that are boring and don't do anything except get harvested."
"Hey, I like the petting zoo."
"No son or daughter of mine is going to like the petting zoo! They're going to like snakes! Because snakes are fucking cool. And sheep are bullshit."
"Settle down."
"Just give me 'T'."
"'T' is for turtle."
"NO TIGERS! What kind of shitty alphanimals are these!" I can't wait to not be looking at these stupid decals anymore.
U ends up being a thing that I don't know what it is.
"It's an urchin."
"I knew that."
V is a vulture instead of a viper, another snake thrown under the bus. W isn't a wolf or a whale, because those would make too much sense. It's a walrus. Which in hindsight is okay. X is some fish I don't know what it is. It should just be a xylophone, right? Even if everything else is an animal, x is always a xylophone. Y is a yak. Fine whatever. And Z is a zebra.
"They're a little silly looking."
I get off the ladder and look at my handiwork. It's true. It's a complete catastrophe. The A and the B are super spaced out, and everything else is scrunched together, zig-zagging up and down, and you can't really tell which letter is next in some places.
"The baby is going to be stupider for having these up."
"Well, it'll know that Q comes sometime after P. It might not think it comes immediately after P, but it'll know it's either right after P, or right after R."
"I suppose that's good enough."
"Yeah, maybe tomorrow I'll move the antelope and the bear closer to everything else. But I'm still really mad about the farm animals. S is for sheep my ass."
"You're going to be a ridiculous father."
I look down at my feet. I'm standing on Africa. My wife is on the Pacific Ocean. "Yeah, but our baby will know its geography."
My wife didn't want a baby shower. My wife didn't want to buy anything for our baby really. Which is at times aggravating. Yesterday, I told her we still need to get a mobile for the baby's crib, and she rolled her eyes and said, "Really? More things? You need to get your spending under control."
That really happened. Two days ago, I hear her on the phone with her cousin lamenting that I went out to the store and bought the baby "more clothes." By "more clothes," she meant pajamas. The baby has no pajamas. The baby has I think 8 onesies and two pairs of pants. I own probably 30-40 shirts and at least 8 pairs of pants/shorts. I also don't shit on my clothes and throw up on myself several times a week. So I'm thinking "more clothes" are necessary, and that I married a weirdo. But that's neither here nor there. (Love you lady!)
So I made her have a little shower. When she relented, she said, "But I'm not registering for anything." So I proceeded to register for all of our baby's shit. (In fairness, my wife did go to the registry and criticize EVERYTHING I put on there. "A mustache binky? Really? What if it's a girl?" "Then she'll have a mustache. It's a baby.") In my registering, I became a complete and total weirdo.
I started looking for rugs that had learning agendas. I found a giant rug that was a map of the world. The names of each continent are on there, and each ocean. I remember in 1st grade, a girl named Laura made fun of me because I didn't know how many continents there were. Not my baby. My baby's going to know his/her geography.
I see a wall map of the United States. Each state peels off the map, so you can play pin the state on the country! Brilliant! My child will be as smart as a whip!
And what's the first thing? The pillar upon which all learning comes from? Reading! Which is based on... the ALPHABET!!!
Which brings me to the wall decals that I was talking about before I decided to make fun of my beloved. I find these wall decals of the alphabet, and my eyes light up. "Perfect! Each letter has a picture of an animal on there. The child will learn the alphabet, the states, and the world just by osmosis!"
Unfortunately, baby's father never learned what osmosis means. Wah, wah. (That's a trombone sound, not crying. It's also not true. I know what osmosis means, and I understand that I'm using it wrong, but it's also kind of right. I actually wouldn't be surprised if definition two or three of osmosis was something like "learning through immersion or being surrounded by a thing that is being learned about." Probably worded better than that. But whatever. I'm off the rails here.)
So I'm really pumped about these letters. I put them on the registry. Ellen's friend gets them for her. I'm pumped. Ellen's pumped. The friend is pumped. But I'm also realizing what a pain in the ass it's going to be to put these things on the wall.
I'm going to want to make them look reasonable. So I'll want to measure the wall, divide a wall into 26 equal lengths, so the letters are perfectly spaced. Each one will need to be measured to the ceiling as well to ensure they're all level. Suddenly, this seems like a lot of work, and my parenting skills fail me for the first time.
"Hmmm, I really think this will be great for my child. But it will require work... Nope, not gonna do it."
And so the letters have sat there for weeks without getting put on the wall.
This evening, though, after a pretty productive cleaning day, I get ambitious. "Honey," I say, "let's put up those letters."
"Hooray!"
I survey the room, and briefly discuss with my wife that I don't want to do all of the work that I mentioned above. The stuff about measuring and leveling. I will, however, put them in an abstract up and down on one of the walls.
"Yeah, for sure. Don't measure. That seems hard." Glad to see we're both failures as parents. I knew I could count on her!
So we decide on a wall. I get up on the ladder. And she peels off and hands me the letter "A."
"Here's 'A'."
"Let's see, what's 'A'? An antelope. 'A' is for antelope. Seems a little high concept for a child. But okay, there's not a lot of animals that start with 'A.'"
B is a bear. C is a cow. D is a dolphin. E is an elephant. All reasonable. F is a frog.
"Here's 'G'."
"Ooo, what is it?"
"Guess?"
"A... goat?"
"Nope."
"Gorilla?"
"No, that would be good though." She hands me the 'G' animal. "It's a goldfish."
"'G' is for goldfish? Really?"
"Yeah, I would have thought giraffe."
"Right, totally, that makes more sense than goat or gorilla. It should totally be a giraffe."
"Definitely not a goldfish though."
"Agreed. That's weird. Well maybe they didn't want to confuse the kids by doing an animal with a soft 'g.' Kids might think it's a 'j'."
"Yeah, maybe. That's possible." We move on. It threw me for a bit, but we moved on. I accepted it. G is a goldfish. H is a horse. I is an iguana. Which gave me pause, except then it dawned on me there really aren't a lot of I animals. Ibex. But if antelope is pushing it, ibex is waaaay pushing it. So good call. I is for iguana.
J is for jellyfish. Not jaguar? Whatever. Jellyfish is reasonable. K is for kangaroo. Of course. L is for lion, king of the jungle, even though they don't really live in the jungle. But that's not an issue for the wall decals, but for society at large. Can we stop it with the king of the jungle business? It's very misleading. I thought lions lived in the jungle for a really long time. There are probably a lot of people who still think lions live in the jungle. Newsflash: No jungle. Also, I would take a gorilla over a lion in a fight any day. Lions aren't king of shit.
M: Monkey. Duh. N is for narwhal? Really? Again I have to stop. (Also, now as I'm writing this, it occurs to me that A is for alligator in real life. Not fucking antelope. What kind of stupid animal alphabet ranks antelope higher than alligators? Why wouldn't you introduce a child to an alligator before you introduce them to a goddamn antelope? It doesn't make any sense.) "Narwhal? The unicorn of the sea? That's what we've got for 'N'? It's so obscure."
"Yeah, but what else is there?" My wife asks. We stop and think. I come up with nothing.
"All right. Narwhal it is. I just think the kid's going to be bummed out when we go to the zoo for the first time."
"Ha. It's true. Mommy, where's the narwhal? Sorry honey, you're never ever going to see one of those."
"Heartbreaking. All right, hit me with 'O'. Let me guess, octopus?"
"Yeah, that's pretty obvious. Guess it could have been an owl."
"Otter."
"Lot of 'O' animals."
"O R there? Get it? Like in Rushmore."
"I have no idea what you're talking about. 'P.' Guess what 'P' is."
"It's gotta be a python."
"Guess again."
"Oh duh, a panda."
"Nope."
"Piranha?"
"It's a pig."
"A pig? What the fuck is that? Pigs suck. That's so boring."
"Pigs are cute."
"Pigs are dinner!"
"You're really getting worked up about this."
"Well, I mean come on. The giraffe was a goldfish. Now we've got another opportunity and it's a pig? I mean come on."
"Yeah, it's true."
Q is a quail. Again, mildly disappointing. Not because I expected there to be any cool 'Q' animals. But just because quails kind of suck. They're pretty obscure. But whatever. R will be cool.
Only R is a rooster. Why is R a goddamn rooster? How about a rhinoceros? That's way cooler than a rooster. A raccoon. A rabbit. A rattlesnake. Well, it can't be a rattlesnake, because S is going to be a snake.
My wife hands me 'S.' "You're not gonna like this."
"A sheep?! What kind of farmyard bullshit is this? The package didn't say farmyard animals A to Z. It said animals. Sheep! That also throws off the whole 'G isn't for Giraffe because we don't want to confuse the kids with the soft 'g' sound and they mix up the 'g' and the 'j' theory.' So now I'm back to that. If 's' is sheep, 'g' should definitely be giraffe."
"It's true," she says, shaking her head.
"'S' is for snake. Everybody knows that 's' is for snake. It's biblical. It's thousands of years old. S is for snake. S is not for sheep."
"Sheep are okay. It's not so bad."
"It's not so bad? Our child is going to go to the zoo and want to spend all of its time at the bullshit petting zoo with those stupid smelly animals that are boring and don't do anything except get harvested."
"Hey, I like the petting zoo."
"No son or daughter of mine is going to like the petting zoo! They're going to like snakes! Because snakes are fucking cool. And sheep are bullshit."
"Settle down."
"Just give me 'T'."
"'T' is for turtle."
"NO TIGERS! What kind of shitty alphanimals are these!" I can't wait to not be looking at these stupid decals anymore.
U ends up being a thing that I don't know what it is.
"It's an urchin."
"I knew that."
V is a vulture instead of a viper, another snake thrown under the bus. W isn't a wolf or a whale, because those would make too much sense. It's a walrus. Which in hindsight is okay. X is some fish I don't know what it is. It should just be a xylophone, right? Even if everything else is an animal, x is always a xylophone. Y is a yak. Fine whatever. And Z is a zebra.
"They're a little silly looking."
I get off the ladder and look at my handiwork. It's true. It's a complete catastrophe. The A and the B are super spaced out, and everything else is scrunched together, zig-zagging up and down, and you can't really tell which letter is next in some places.
"The baby is going to be stupider for having these up."
"Well, it'll know that Q comes sometime after P. It might not think it comes immediately after P, but it'll know it's either right after P, or right after R."
"I suppose that's good enough."
"Yeah, maybe tomorrow I'll move the antelope and the bear closer to everything else. But I'm still really mad about the farm animals. S is for sheep my ass."
"You're going to be a ridiculous father."
I look down at my feet. I'm standing on Africa. My wife is on the Pacific Ocean. "Yeah, but our baby will know its geography."
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