All posts tagged: diaper change

6 Do’s and 3 Don’t’s When Expecting

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Some very close friends are expecting babies, right now. Here’s some of my uncommon knowledge for them before their lives are wonderfully destroyed by blessed rugrats… 1. DO sit around playing mindless games on your phone and indulging guilty pleasures. You won’t have time for it ever again. Or if you do, it’ll only be for 17 seconds after you lay in bed, flip on your phone, pretend to “catch up”, and immediately fall asleep. 1. DON’T read any “expecting a baby” books. Trendy, “latest research” factoids muddle your brain. Seek advice from friends, and know that your parents’ example (or your friends’ parents’ examples) will be enough to get you through the first few months. 2. DO buy basic baby gear, but limit the rest. The basics: diapers, food, changing pad, swaddling blankets, sound machine, teething “chew toy”, baby swing, car seat, baby carrier (like bjorn, ergo or moby) and a stroller. That’s all you need, especially at the beginning. Babies have spent their first months in baskets, mangers, drawers and padded boxes for …

Working My Gender

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Walking to the playground, today, with Little C in the stroller and Big E on his scooter, I noticed an inordinate number of adoring expressions from passing women. I recognize that pursed lip, upside-down smile simultaneously showing sympathy, adoration and appreciation. I know my kids are cute. I also know that most mothers don’t receive that look from other women. It’s because I’m a man. People think it’s sooooo cute when a dude’s got two kids. We’re not supposed to be capable of such feats. So I look like a hero. I know it. I appreciate it. Sometimes I resent it. Nannies, especially, can’t believe my partner and I are raising kids without help (aside from our wonderful, regular babysitters). When I’m on the playground on a Wednesday afternoon and I’m the only man (often the only white person…a funny detail about raising kids in Manhattan), I’ve had many conversations with nannies asking, “Your nanny is off, today?” “Is your wife sick, today?” “Are you the nanny?” Heaven forbid a nearly 40-year-old man take his …

Poopy wedding

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Ambitiously, I took 18-month-old Big E, to a friend’s wedding reception. It took place on one afternoon in NYC. I traveled with only my (unstylish) diaper bag and him in an ergo carrier. There was a beautiful and (mercifully quick) ceremony in Fort Tryon Park, followed by a reception at the nearby New Leaf. Everything was gorgeous. But about me. Everybody coo’d over Big E. I was a star daddy for having ventured, on my own, to the wedding with a baby. Then I smelled poop. This was a doozy. I mean, pungent shit that other guests “admired”. Before heading to the buffet line, I ducked into the bathroom. There was no changing table in the microscopic men’s room. I asked a waiter if there was a changing table anywhere. “Ummm…not that I know of,” he said, blankly. “Nowhere?” I asked, snidely. “Ummm…not that I know of.” I got huffy. “So is there a place to change an extremely smelly diaper besides on the restaurant floor?” “Ummm…outside?” he offered. I wanted to kick him in …