Category — Random Bits

There’s not denying it, I’ve been made soft by the Dooz (and not just physically). Prior to having the boy, I could watch, read and hear all manner of things. AD (or After Dooz), I find myself unable to hear anything that involves a child suffering. It’s exactly like my inability to watch the dog/cop show on Animal Planet (which begs the question, why the hell would I want to watch that show?).

Case in point. Over the weekend a friend had lent me the book The Other Boleyn Girl and I was looking forward to a good, quick summer read. In the midst of this book, Mary Boleyn’s children are taken from her at very young ages and she’s not able to see them for long stretches of time. It literally made me feel sick. Thinking about being away from D for even a couple of days is something I haven’t done yet. I had to put the book down for a bit. No, really.

Another example? The news. Something awful is always happening to the news and I can’t bear to hear about children (especially D’s age) being mistreated, abused, etc. Mark has taken to making sure that I’m not in earshot if he’s discussing stories like that.

There’s just something about having a baby that changes your perspective in ways you’ve never expected. It’s not as earth shattering disruptive as it seems when people tell you about it. For me, it happens at surprising moments and in a permeating way. As if it’s something that’s just seeping through everything and before I know it, certain areas are saturated.

We totally need this to hide the hideous cords that D is always gravitating towards. It meets our 2 criteria: inexpensive and nicely designed.

Well, here we are. It all started with a conversation in which I tried to convince Mark to start a blog to write about his experiences as a newly minted stay-at-home-dad. After several after 7 conversations (i.e. the time in the evening when the baby is in bed and we flop on the couch with exhaustion) we decided it was something we could do together because sometimes this whole child-having gig seems to closely resemble a relay race. Instead of passing the baton after running a leg and then collapsing with exhaustion we … wait, it IS the same.

And so here we are, on the first day that the Dooz took steps on his own thinking about how we’ve managed to make it this far at the cusp of his change into a toddler. What does this mean? It means that we’re going to spend a whole heck of alot more time chasing him with a greater potential for big falls. Ack.

If you’re wondering who we are, here you go. Welcome!