Rookie Dad: I've never seen so much snot

It's not like The Youngling has never been sick. No, indeed. This is the second time that the little destroyer has found herself with a cold and this one is a big one. I think I counted a dozen sneezes in a three hour period this weekend. All but one resulted in gobs of snot pouring out of her tiny nose. To make matters worse, she has developed a disdain for her old man after I've had to wipe her nose just shy of a hundred times in recent days.

Each time I hear a sneeze, and I hear then from two or three rooms away sometimes, I reluctantly grab a tissue and plod through the house careful to look under tables where she may be hiding. She knows what happened and she wants it gone. That's obvious by her wiping her nose on her hand, her sleeve, the couch, my sweatshirt, my coat, mom's face or the rug. But when she sees that white tissue careening towards her it's like Kryptonite. The Youngling wiggles and scoots away and begins screaming. Hey, I don't like doing this any more than she likes having it done but the snot isn't going away on its own so it needs to happen.

I don't beat around the bush when on snot patrol. With one hand on the back of her head, I pinch my fingers together on the outside of the tissue and hope that I've made some progress and she shakes her head and tries to wriggle out from under my not-so-gentle wiping. I've come to grips that this is the first of many year of my daughter hating me. Until she needs some of my non-existent money, then I'll be the bestest dad in the whole entire world. But I'm not holding my breath on that one.

Rookie Dad: The box is more exciting than the gift

By a child's second Christmas, that particular child should be able to open his or her Christmas presents without assistance. I have that sort of high expectations - even though The Youngling is a mere 13 months old. She is already getting in to everything in the house and seems almost passionate about destroying things - particularly photo album pages - so why shouldn't she be eager to tear through some colorful wrapping paper and find a box waiting inside that's far more entertaining that the toy it holds?
Maybe my expectations about The Youngling's dexterity and eagerness to shred paper are lofty but that little girl is ahead of the curve - even if she isn't walking unassisted yet and is stuck at having only five teeth.

But we've planned ahead for her love of everything but toys as presents. I'm fairly certain that everything under the tree is a box full of random bits destined for the recycling bin: soda bottles, empty soup cans and a couple of graham cracker boxes. We've even (well I have) planned ahead for her lack of ambition when it comes to tearing off wrapping paper - I've pre-tore most of the paper on her gifts so she can easily get to those boxes and bits of recycling material. I'm all about boosting that little lady's ego.

Rookie Dad: It's been a year

It was a year ago yesterday when The Youngling finally graced us with her presence. I won't go in to alot of details from that day other than to say that the 22 hours leading up to her birth was, well, lengthy. I don't care to ever sleep in a hospital room recliner again. It's just not as comfortable as you think it would be.

But in the end it was all worth it because we got to see her eat a whole bunch of cake on Sunday. Us and about 20 others, actually. Yes, we broke the big rule that I've seen in parenting newsletters and magazines that says "just have the grandparents there and keep it small, your one year old will be riddled with anxiety and likely cry and crawl in to the corner with a huge crowd around her". Those magazines and newsletters aren't worth the ink or bytes used to create them.

The Youngling showed no signs of anxiety and was totally herself. Right down to refusing to eat anything on a plate. So the cake went directly on the tray of her high chair and she meticulously ate the frosting then got all up in that cake's chocolatey business. The wedge of two-layer cake was eventually smashed in to a gooey mass and she was working on building a coffee grounds-style beard but with cake.

The most impressive fact was that The Youngling kept her hair clean in spite of taunts and encouragement from her aunts to do otherwise. The clean-up was easy, too. Rather than try to clean her with a wash cloth or baby wipes we just gave her a quick bath and got back to the grind of opening her presents. After those hours of excitement she took a three hour nap and we cleaned up cake.

Rookie Dad: She's got her shots

Nobody ever looks forward to shots - unless you truly enjoy pain. I know I don't particularly like shots and I've been know to pass out having blood drawn - I'd make a terrible intravenous drug user. So it's no shock that The Youngling screamed her head off when she got her one year shots earlier this week. I actually did the whole good parent thing and read the information sheet provided for each shot - MMR, Hepatitis A, H1N1 and Chicken Pox.

That's when I was informed that some toddlers get a rash from the MMR shot - it's nothing to worry about and some toddlers have a reaction to the Chicken Pox vaccine a couple weeks out. All in all none of it sounded too bad.

Until the day after the shots when The Youngling was still groggy. One of the shots had caused her to develop a fever which she fought all day long. That particular day ended in a bath to cool her down and a few rounds of infant acetaminophen. She eventually pulled through all of that only to come down with what turned in to a full body rash. It looks like she was wearing carefully applied costume makeup all over her body but I've been reassured that it only lasts a couple days and she'll be back to her normal looking self. Even covered in a rash, The Youngling is still overly huggable and while people were happy to see us parents show up at a couple Thanksgiving shindigs yesterday they were downright overjoyed to see the baby. People cooed and played and crawled with her. Nobody crawled with me or wanted to bounce me on their lap. I'm starting to develop an inferiority complex.

Rookie Dad: Climbing the ranks

The Youngling is getting dangerously close to her first birthday and that means cake, messes and tons of progress that Rookie Dad is totally unprepared for.

The first progress, crawling, led to the initial gate leading from the living room to the dining room. That was easy. The second gate, from the hallway to the kitchen, was more involved (pricey). We wanted something sturdy yet easy for us aging adults to deal with. A metal swinging gate was just the ticket plus it's expandable for when we eventually have to corral The Youngling in to a smaller area by keeping her away from the hallway and the stairs leading to the second floor. I hear stairs can be dangerous for toddlers.

Then I learned that stairs are, in fact, dangerous for toddlers.

Last Saturday, as I tried to entertain the speedy little girl while her mom showered upstairs, I ran to the kitchen for some food (shocking). I figured that nothing could happen in the brief amount of time in which I was gone.

I was wrong.

In the 30 or so seconds I left The Youngling unattended she had crawled to the bottom of the stairs and pulled herself up to the second step. That elevation, while it nearly doubled her height, proved to be too much for her to handle. That's when I heard a solid "thud" and instant crying. Not just any crying but downright hysterical crying. The kind that makes the entire body shake. The kind of crying that happens with the eyes closed and fists balled up.

That's what can happen in 30 seconds. I think it's time to move the gate.

Rookie Dad: Get up, stand up

Even as our entire household fights off numerous bugs, infections and viruses there are milestones being reached every day. Just a couple nights ago - Wednesday to be specific - The Youngling reached yet another milestone.

As I returned from the kitchen I noticed that she seemed taller than usual. I looked again and sure enough The Youngling was standing up. Her motivation for this was that we had left the silverish TV remote on the coffee table and that remote, to her, is like crack.

Everywhere that remote is, she is climbing, crawling or pawing for it. She pushes the buttons, changes the television from cable to antenna settings (which nearly led to me calling the cable company), changes channels at pivotal moments during my favorite programs and simply bangs in on the floor and tables in the living room. It's much more than a simple household electronics device to her, it's hours of entertainment and unintentional motivation.

The standing all by herself event took place just days after The Youngling totally nailed true-to-form crawling. Yep, she's got the whole crawling on her knees thing down after months of her Army crawling throughout various rooms on our home's first floor.

And after standing soom comes walking. I really need to start moving stuff higher and take care of some baby proofing. That bag of broken glass on the first shelf of the bookcase isn't going to move itself.

Rookie Dad: The diapers are all about advertising

Since opening that very first package of diapers waaaay back last November I had wondered about the cartoon characters whose likenesses adorned nearly every inch of The Youngling's earth-destroying butt covers. When did this trend start? Are the diaper conglomerates paid to print the cartoons? Are the cartoons there for a reason?

Rather than do some sort of meaningful research about diaper cartoons, I chose to speculate. Diaper cartoons exist so that in complete darkness a parent can find the stack of diapers. But wait, wouldn't plain white be more visible at night than a myriad of colorful cartoon characters? Actually white is more visible so maybe the butt cartoons are all about he almighty dollar.

Let's assume that huge diaper conglomerates do receive some enormous kickback for printing Winnie the Pooh and Elmo on their products. What do we as parents gain from this? I can say for certain that we don't receive a lower price because paying $20-$30 for something that always ends up in the trash is the best scam ever - and even better if the diaper companies are getting a cartoon kickback and screwing parents.

The big three brands, Huggies, Pampers and Luvs, all have some sort of cartoons splashed across the available real estate of their respective diapers and it hasn't resulted in lower prices so maybe my kickback theory is backwards. Maybe the diaper companies, in some misguided effort to make their products more visually appealing, are paying to use the likeness of Elmo and Winnie the Pooh. If that's the case, I'd prefer my diapers how I like my rice - plain and white.