Robert’s Blog

I’m well aware that, as a 35-year-old man with no kids, I’ve long enjoyed the luxury of judging other people’s parenting skills while maintaining a blissful ignorance of the challenges they face. But that coin has more than one side. Now that I’m about to be a dad (any day now), I’m a little concerned that I may soon forget a few important facts that all childless people know, but which parents — mired in the pathos of their predicament — all seem to forget. So here are a few things that I hope to remember, even after a few years of parenting have numbed my mind and eroded my sense of social propriety.

1. Not all movies are for kids.
It always baffles me when I go to a late-night R-rated movie with Christine and end up with some six-year-old kicking the back of my chair. No matter how badly I need a night out at the movies, I think I’ll stay home if I can’t find a babysitter. And if I ever break this rule, I’ll make a point of taking the kid to an age-appropriate show.

2. Bubbles are only fun for children.
In the April ‘08 issue of Parents magazine, there’s an article listing 100 ways to keep toddlers happy. Among other dubious tips, the story suggests blowing bubbles as a great way to entertain a kid “while she’s in a shopping cart or waiting to see the doctor.” For the benefit of the world’s childless shoppers and medical patients, I will try to find a way to amuse my kid without releasing anything into the air.

3. I am not my child.
No matter how cute my kid is, I hope I never use her photo as my AIM buddy icon or Facebook profile photo. It’s creepy and sad. I suppose it’s okay to use a picture that includes her in it, as long as I’m actually in the picture, too.

4. Soccer is supposed to be fun.
I love soccer. I hope my child learns to love it, too. I’ll do my best not to ruin it by taking it too seriously, yelling at the coach/referee, and generally acting like a jerk.

5. There’s a time and a place for roller skates.
I don’t care how unpopular this makes me with my kid and her friends: Those lame shoes with the wheels built into the heels will be banned in (and around) my household. I can’t even tell you how many times some brat has collided with my cart in the grocery store while their clueless parents wandered the aisles in search of Ho Hos. I once nearly hit a kid in a dimly lit Chili’s parking lot as he shot out from between some parked SUVs and sped past the front of my car. His morbidly obese parents, trailing behind him with doggy bags in tow, didn’t even seem to notice. (If you’re a parent who bought these shoes for your kid, you should have your head examined. And if your child shows up at my house wearing a pair, I’m sending her straight back home.)

We’re now in the 38th week of pregnancy. The nursery is painted and furnished. The car seats are installed. The stroller is parked by the front door. The closet is full of baby clothes. All we need is a baby.

At last week’s OB appointment, the doctor said we likely would have the baby before the next appointment. That next appointment is this morning at 9:00, so we can hardly wait to find out how things are progressing at this point. But our bags are packed for the hospital and we’re ready to go at a moment’s notice.

UPDATE (3/30/08): It’s now Sunday night and still no baby. Christine’s feeling pretty done with the whole pregnancy thing, and can hardly wait to get this baby out of her. At our next OB appt, tomorrow morning, the doctor will probably do something to attempt to stimulate labor.