A Dash of Dash a Day: June 13

One of the outright strangest things that have come from the baby's existence is seeing how far things have come technologically with baby monitors. All I knew of monitors were the radio-type ones, but someone got us what I consider an uber-fancy monitor that has a camera, and I'm absurdly amazed by this 20 year old technology.

Seriously, look at this thing: the room Dash is in is dark, yet we can see him clearly. I can use this as a radio to talk to him, we can make it play music from far away, we can control the pan and scan of the camera, etc. It's pretty impressive! I expected the monitor to be the type where, if he makes a sound, I'll have to run to wherever to find him and make sure he's not being attacked by rabid otters. Instead, I can watch the otters devour him in real time!

I feel silly for thinking this is so cool, but, well, it's so cool. Considering I'm basically the only person who never had a reliable webcam with his computer growing up, that might be part of it, since this is just such a crazy leap for me, but hey.

A Dash of Dash a Day: June 12

Things I've learned about babies:

* Babies have an inherent grasping reflex.
* Babies get VERY angry when they cannot ungrasp.

A Dash of Dash a Day: June 11

If you haven't noticed, we're a little book obsessed here at the Raymond Compound. I haven't held a job that wasn't related to publishing in some form since the beginning of college, so we've accumulated a lot of books anyway, never mind our library book sale scavenging. We're not completely beyond help - we did get rid of at least a third of our books when we moved to New Hampshire initially (some I now regret getting rid of, but that's another blog for another day), but we have a lot of books.

I sure hope Dash loves the printed word.

That's both a joke and a reality, though. I know all the relevant studies suggest the strongest, most voracious readers grow up in houses with libraries a fraction of the size of ours. And it appears that we aren't alone: polling suggests that parents actually prefer the printed books over their electronic counterparts right now. Granted, I love printed books as much as the next guy, but there's something about my pushing that on a kid that is in a borderline-all-digital world that doesn't sit well with me. And then there's the whole question of screens and kids, and how that matches up with the modern world, and then my brain hurts.

This is not a situation where Dash will have to choose. The landscape will be really different in a year and a half regarding ebooks and tablets and whatever else than it is now, and we're of a certain income level where Dash will be able to experience the best of both worlds. This has ultimately more become a concern about whether it's important for someone who'll basically be a digital native to lose some of that experience in favor of steering him toward old media, or whether I'll be doing him a disservice by ensuring his readiness for technology. I know kids pick up on this stuff quickly, but I also want to instill good habits now. The way I use a computer now has not changed terribly much in 20 years, even though the tech has, and I have a lot of negative computer habits. I also have a lot of good book habits, but a lot of not-so-good ones, too. I'm not sure I know how to set a good precedent early for him, nor do I know if it will ultimately even matter.


The other issue I'm kind of loathing is the appropriateness issue. I've talked about this a bit before, and when I was reorganizing some books on Sunday I realized that this will probably be an issue sooner rather than later. I wasn't going to pick up Stephen King when I was 10, but there wasn't a Fifty Shades in the house, either, y'know? My natural distaste for anything that feels like censorship is being overridden by the parental instinct I never knew I had, where I even fret over semi-discernible swear words on the car radio. I wasn't expecting this.

I suppose this is one of those things that will end up being dealt with regardless of my mental back-and-forth. Yes, I'm an overthinker, but when you want to simply do right by your kid, I'd imagine these are the concerns that pop up. I get the feeling my situation is unique because of all the books we have, it's more chances for Dash to expand his horizons and also perhaps trip up on something I'd prefer he wouldn't. At the end of the day, I guess I'd just like to avoid a whole Are You There God, It's Me, Dashiell thing. That's not so wrong, right?

A Dash of Dash a Day: June 10

Very shortly after Dash was born, while Ann was still shaking it out on the hospital bed and Dash was getting weighed and measured, they told us how long he was and we were surprised: I tend to resemble a tree stump when dressed properly, and Ann, while slightly taller than me, is far from a giant. But Dash was in the upper percentiles for length/height, and so Ann and I immediately started making "I guess he really does look like the mailman" jokes. Our midwife (sense a pattern yet?) was not amused.

There's a common conception that the baby, upon birth, looks like the father for evolutionary reasons - in a situation where the father cannot be certain if the offspring is his, biology steps in. Science isn't as clear on this as I thought, I learned, but I still love the concept. Regardless, one of our biggest debates is who Dash looks like. I look at Dash, and see nothing but Ann except in the nose and his super-expressive eyebrows, which is a key skill of mine. She sees nothing but me in him, which she cites toward his actual eyeballs (not his eyes, which we both agree are all Ann) and face shape.

Regardless, Ann, I think, inadvertently put this debate to rest with the picture she put together above. Not only does Dash have her smile as a baby, but apparently Dash's little derpface is hereditary. When I saw this, it really blew my mind, because it's pretty crazy how close they look at similar ages.

If anything, it's confirmation of one thing: we can't rule out the mailman.

A Dash of Dash a Day: June 9

To jump upon the name discussion from earlier, we have also been surprised by some of the...interesting pronunciations and spellings of Dash's name. Well, Ann is more surprised than I am, since my first thought for the pronunciation was "Dash-eele" as opposed to the more appropriate "Dash-uhll." I have that problem where I read things before hearing them and the voice in my head gains prominence, so I tend to be very forgiving of the odd pronunciations.

This post is more just to highlight one of the first cute spellings we got, though. We get a lot of "Dash-a-lee," and an example is what we came home to when Dash was born from my father above, which was both very cute and deserved a "You Tried" medal.

A Dash of Dash a Day: June 8

Ann sent this picture to me the other night with the single caption "You're invited...to the gun show." It immediately reminded me of this picture:


I swear, if Dash becomes a Jersey Shore gym rat...

A Dash of Dash a Day: June 7

I often feel guilty about one aspect of how we're handling Dash, even thought I shouldn't.

Ann's been exclusively breast feeding this whole time. Not a drop of formula, it's been great on our wallet and great for Dash. This means, though, that Ann's more or less the exclusive feeder of the family. I get bottles from time to time, but her giving me bottles means she has to pump more, and the more that she pumps means the more she makes, and so on and so forth.

Also, Ann's done with work. We're taking the dive in on the whole one person working, one person with the baby thing, and it's working well for us. Since I made more money, I got to keep working (it would have gone the other way if Ann was the primary breadwinner). We plan to homeschool in the future, if it will work for Dash, and so this is kind of the beginning of "let's see how this goes." So I work during the day, and Ann's got the baby.

When we put it all together, it comes down to getting up at night that's the big thing. Since Ann is the prime food giver, and since I can't do much, she pretty much is the one who gets up at night, leaving me to sleep so I can be more alert during the day. On one hand, I can't complain too much, since I get off the hook. It's her viewpoint that if I can't do much for him at night if he's hungry, and one of us can get a decent night's sleep, then that's how we should do it, especially since I'm working. On the other, that's exhausting for her, and I can tell. She never complains, and she's a saint for doing it, but I definitely feel some guilt.

Compounding it is the line of questioning from people. Everyone's first question is "how's the sleeping going," which is cute and fun but puts us in an awkward spot since pretty much everyone else we know shares the nighttime duties. Then again, nearly everyone we know has a two income household, and nearly everyone we know went to formula pretty quickly. And nearly no one we know is planning to homeschool. So we're not doing much of anything like anyone else, so why feel insecure about it?

This is not meant to make anyone feel guilty about perhaps asking us that. It's a natural question. Just know that if we're a little apprehensive or do the nervous laughter thing, it's because we're just still trying to get comfortable with the roles we've set up for ourselves.