So far, while trying to draft this blog post I have been interrupted three times. Just wanted to get that out there. Fast. Before, you know, I get interrupted.

Observation 1: Hardly Workin’ is Hard Work

I have always worked hard. Now, I’m not saying that it always went well, or that it was always brilliant work, but I did totally try. I’ve been on leave for six weeks now, after having the baby (yes – the one in the picture), and have managed to go from being a highly effective human with a full-time job, adequate social life, family obligations, correspondence, mildly successful blog project, and active freelance career to spending my days on my sofa with glazed eyes, a cup of tea that’s gone cold, and an ever-expanding to-do list.

Observation 2: Babies Are Both Easy and Exhausting

The actual elements of infant care don’t seem to be that complex. She has – essentially – four needs. Food, sleep, output management (diapers and burping) and love/interaction. I know how to meet each of these needs. Sometimes it takes a couple of attempts to identify the most pressing need of the moment, but I tend to achieve resolution pretty promptly. It’s great to feel like a success. On the other hand, she has one of these needs on average every 10 minutes, which makes it hard to get any momentum on any other activities. I say on average, because she could require an hour of constant tending, then be maintenance free for two hours… or five seconds. I never know.

For the first time in my life I’m tired without being stressed out. It’s a pretty nice feeling because unlike stress-related fatigue, it can be solved with sleep. It also doesn’t tie my stomach up in knots, give me hives or make me sweat and doubt myself. I’m tired, yeah. But pretty relaxed, all-told. S’nice.

Observation 3: Nobody knows what they’re talking about. Conversely, everybody knows what they’re talking about.

I noted this one before in my post introducing Veronica Rose, but it bears repeating.We’ve had a lot of flat-out contradictory advice from bona fide medical and baby-related professionals. And for some reason everyone’s mother wants us to give the baby water, while all medical professionals are against it. We’re siding with pros here., but I thought it was interesting.

I figure babies have to be sturdy so they survive first-time parents. Trusting your instincts seems to play a pretty big role here, as does getting to know your own personal infant. They may look at lot alike and have similar needs, but their preferences in need fulfillment apparently differ widely.

And that’s about all I can muster today. Am hoping to take the baby out for a walk in about two hours, which means I need to start my preparation sequence now. Don’t get me wrong – this is a pretty awesome gig so far, and I am crazy about the baby of course. And it’s all still so new that even this new shape of my days is interesting. I haven’t lived without a schedule before – or, more accurately, totally beholden to the arbitrary and demanding schedule of someone who can neither verbalize her motivations nor be reasoned or bargained with – and it’s at the same time frustrating and my pleasure to accommodate.

Omigod, she just smiled. What was I saying?

I’ve been a mom for three whole weeks now. I think we can all agree that this makes me an expert on all things child-related. In fact, at the 1.5 week mark, we got excused from our next pediatrician appointment because Veronica hit all of her benchmarks early. Clearly, she is very talented and far ahead of her peers. Let it be known that I totally win at babies.

Which isn’t to say that I don’t still have a thing or two to learn, and Michelle brings us some great advice to help us all sleep better at night. I, for one, am intensely grateful.

Filed under sleep training:

1. Don’t read the soul-crushing, guilt-inducing beginning of the chapter on sleep in the Sears Baby Book. Don’t touch it! It’s evil, like the stuff in the toaster at the end of Time Bandits! (If you don’t want to sleep train, I totally respect that. But I frown on anything that lays guilt on that thick.)

2. Sleep train before you reach your breaking point. Believe me. I waited too long. No one wants to see your breaking point.

3. Make a contract with your S.O. or anyone else who might be around during the night. The contract lays out the rules: When we pick the baby up, how often we check in, how long we let this whole crying thing go on. Sign the contract in blood. It is unbreakable til morn. You will spare yourself many 3 am “You’re breaking our baby!” fights this way.

4. Once the baby sleeps through the night, you will forget how hard it was. Write down what you did — with minute-by-minute detail — so you can help another new parent get through it.

Have you got a great life lesson to share? Did a mentor, teacher or song lyric change your life?

Now that Veronica Rose is on the scene, settled and cheerfully gaining weight and people skills, it seemed like a good time to share some sweet thoughts from a very fine friend. Susan reminds us of temporal reality, and that the only sure thing is that nothing is forever.

This too shall pass – the errant shiny penny on the coffee table picked up by two little three-year-old fingers out of sheer curiosity and… down the hatch. “My knee! My knee!” “Oh, does your knee hurt?” Wait a minute, wasn’t there a penny (mah-nee) here a minute ago! As per the nurses/moms, chase it with a few little bites of soft white bread to make sure it’s not stuck and then keep an eye out for it (for what feels like much, much too long). This will surprise you (and make you laugh once you stop panicking) just as much as watching your kid pick up a spoon and hang it off her nose the very first time she gives it a try. It’s important to leave time and space to sometimes just watch and be surprised by what your kid can do and be there when they turn around to make sure you were watching.

Now, what I really love about this sweet story is that it is actually several bits of advice very cleverly rolled up into one. Mind your pennies, follow an unusual snack with something soft to make sure it got down safely, keep your sense of humor about you and make time to make memories.

The inexorable march of time and its curative powers have turned into a bit of a theme for the advice project – and this post reminded me of Alison’s note to pay attention, as the good, the bad and the ugly all pass at the same rate. Things are going to change. Whether they started off good, bad or ugly, the only sure thing is change.

Have something to add?

Introducing Veronica Rose [Spouse's last name].

• Born March 1, 2010
• 6 lbs, 13 oz
• The nurses gave her a gold star for her incredible head of hair (not pictured).

Am hoping not to make a habit of blogging about the minutiae of new parenthood. There are lots of people who do this really well, and it’s not my niche. But… maybe… once in a while…

In the spirit of science, here are some initial observations.

• No matter what you tell your mother in the months before your water breaks (or the 35 years of your prior acquaintance), she will still want to stay in the delivery room for the main event. And you just might not care at that point. This happens to everyone, right?
• The moment of delivery is astonishing on a number of levels. And that’s all I’ve got to say about that.
• Epidural. Say it loud. Say it proud. Say it early. Don’t wait and go through hours of suffering if you’re heading for the drip anyway – save your strength.
• Let me repeat: Epidural. As someone who has been in pain before, I have the authority to state that there is nothing noble or interesting about it. Nature does lots of painful undignified things to us that we don’t have any trouble interfering with.
• Somehow this six pound human facsimile is controlling four full-grown adults 24 hours a day. I know this does not make us unique, so I won’t bitch about it further. For at least the next five minutes.
• You *can* make a baby almost entirely out of Skittles.
• Those enormous boobs I ordered when I was 15 arrived today. Shazam.

Nobody knows what they’re talking about. Conversely, everybody knows what they’re talking about.

In the last two days I’ve been told the following by a series of legitimate medical professionals:

• Unwrap the baby for feedings so she’s a little agitated and alert.
• Swaddle the baby for feedings so she’s comfortable and relaxed.
• Keep the baby’s hands and fingers covered so they don’t flail around and disturb her.
• Free up the baby’s hands so she can comfort herself – she’s had them in utero, why take them away now?
• Take the baby’s temperature in the ear or armpit.
• Take the baby’s temperature rectally.
• Start good sleeping habits right away, it’s never too early.
• Spend the first couple of months just doing whatever she wants, you can’t start bad habits yet.
• Never wake a sleeping baby.
• Wake her up for feeding times.

So now that we’ve got that straight. Am I missing anything?

Here’s some great advice from friend Laina – who has personally manufactured two fine offspring of her very own, so you know she knows what she’s talking about.

It doesn’t matter what you say. Kids only learn from what you do.

You watch TV? Good luck following the American Academy of Pediatrics advice to keep them away from TV until age two.

You like healthy food? With a few small battles in the toddler years, your offspring will probably grow up eating their veggies most of the time.

Same thing with naps and bedtime. If you believe in sleep and take it seriously enough to put them in a quiet, dark place at more or less the same time(s) every day, they will learn to nap. And well-rested kids are happier kids.

You know, I’d take this farther and come out and say that “walk the walk” is good advice for more than just parenting. Know where you stand and live your ideals.

Have something to add? Currently seeking words of wisdom about work, parenting, home maintenance, cooking, relationships… Tell me what you know!

I’ve been pregnant now for entirely too long, and am now thinking of my third trimester as “the new and distressing creases months.” As my weight swiftly approaches infinity, and time marches inexorably towards what I’m calling “the event horizon,” I was really excited to get this chunk of parenting advice from a friend I have long admired.

I had children before I was grown up, thus sparing my child from enduring the constant attention and undiluted focus of the typical Baby Boomer parent.

I tended to see my child as something to be enjoyed, played with, picked up and carried off to whatever I was doing, whenever I was doing it. This meant I never had those annoying little glitches in the schedule around “nap time.” — hell, if the kid needs to nap, he’ll find a way to take it. And by God he did, in the car, in the bar, in the box, with a fox… no wait, that’s another book…

BUT Green Eggs and Ham does bring me to the topic of EATING

I always assumed that once he dropped that bottle, he would eat anything, any where — and thus spared myself the curse of the picky eater. Hot dogs (love those nitrates!) enchildadas, Thai spring rolls, broccoli — if it wasn’t moving TOO fast, the kid, like his parents, would eat it and enjoy it! I cannot tolerate the fussy eater.

Don’t like what you just got handed for dinner ? Then don’t eat.

Isn’t she awesome? Now, I can testify to the love in her family and the success of her techniques. And it’s a breath of fresh air – in light of some of the obsessive parenting I’ve seen as well as some of the obsessive gestating I’ve been doing – to read a more reasonable theory that lets everyone get on with the business of living their lives.

As much as I bitch, I am looking forward to meeting the baby. Hopefully before I develop my own gravitational field.

Seeking Advice

I’m renewing my request for advice. How do you pick a good mechanic? Or the right paint color? A life partner? A job? I’d be grateful for your advice on life, work, love… anything, really. Whether deadly serious or seriously funny, and whether you allow me to share your advice on the blog, or keep it just between us, I know you know some great stuff.

Tell me what you know!

You heard it here first: The secret to happiness is a sense of humor.

That’s it. And it’s free of charge and of calories. No enhancing your  manhOOd, or obscure potentates with unclaimed bank accounts. Not a spectacular sale at Bloomingdale’s (though that doesn’t hurt), and not the whole damn cheesecake.

If you find yourself fortunate enough to be in possession of a sense of humor (and not everyone is so lucky), you should hold it close, keep it safe, nurture it, feed it and stroke it gently. Tell it it’s pretty and that it looks great in those pants. Keep it warm and out of drafts, give it plenty of sunlight and stuff to read. It’s your best friend and no one can take it away from you.

Got something to add?

Alison reminds us of the temporal limitations of whatever ails us.

When my daughter was 5 days old, and I was a hormonal mess, I called a more experienced mom, and said, “Tell me it gets better. WHEN does it get better?” and she said, “hang on, let me ask my husband.” He had some ideas (all of which ranged into months, which just made me cry more), but then said, “Remember: This too shall pass.”

So that’s my best advice ever received: this too shall pass. The bad stages, the not-sleeping, the tantrums, the hitting, the not-eating, the climbing the furniture, and on and on into parenting challenges I’ve not yet experienced, it all passes. But this too: the good stuff, the big-eyed baby, the falling asleep in your arms, the learning to walk, the screaming with joy when you walk in the room, the kid referring to herself with a pet name, that passes too. There’s no holding on or slowing down, but it’s worth remembering.

– Alison

My dad says something similar. But his goes like this: “This too shall pass. And shall be followed by more misery and pain. I prefer Alison’s today.

Have something to share? Don’t be shy – send me a piece of advice!

I am super excited to announce the launch of a new feature on Nutgraf. One that, perhaps, is the best manifestation here yet of what this term means.

I’m inviting people to submit via this super exciting and easy to use online form their best advice for the next generation – currently in gestation. What mantra do you soothe yourself with late at night when you’re anxious? What aphorism gets you going in the morning? Did your uncle give you some uncannily wise advice when you graduated from high school? Is it a parenting tip? A secret to a successful marriage? A professional mantra? I want to know it all.

Tell me the stuff that you know!

I thank you for any submissions, and (with your permission) will publish highlights, so come back, send it around and encourage the smart/funny/erudite people you know to drop me a line!

To give you an idea of what I’m talking about and get the ball rolling, I present one of the first entries. This touching little number from a dear friend and colleague of many years.

Here is my best advice: No matter what you have to put down — the laundry, the laptop, even the child him/herself — drop it and grab a pen when Small One says that amazing something that you just know you will remember forever, because (trust me) you will not. In the 13-plus years that my two have been verbal, they have said things that were so hilarious, creative, tear-jerking, precocious and jaw-droppingly insightful, and those utterances remain with us today (some quoted as precious parts of family lore) only because they were written down in the moment.

I figured since both their father and I have writing backgrounds, this chronicling/transcribing would be a no-brainer, a reflexive part of parenting for me. But in retrospect, I didn’t do it as faithfully as I now wish I had — I know there were times that I thought “Gotta get that down!” but let it slide. I think it would have helped to have more of a plan, more of a system, before Claire (now pushing 15) even got here. I love seeing their words on the original notes where I jotted them — all kinds of scrappy paper, just a scrawled “Quote,” name, date — but as I never systematized where I kept the jottings, they’re now scattered all over.

So, first advice: WRITE IT IN THE MOMENT … and second, MAKE A PLACE to keep what you write. So glad I can still find a few of mine. Here’s one from Claire whe she was about four: “Look here! The shadows of my feet are my toes’ cousins!” … And one from Will when he was about 7: “Tomorrow’s the first day of summer! Skip across the room! Dive into the wildflowers!”

– Patty

Awesome, right? You want to get in on this, don’t you? Don’t be shy – click on over to the form, have a little think on it and show me what you’ve got.

I want to know the stuff that you know!