Tag: humorous

My Life: Baby-Goggled.

  

 I’m amazed at how differently I have been looking at life. Every little thing in the back of my head is about my kid now. However, probably not in the way most parents think… or maybe it is?

-Stuck in traffic this morning, I started thinking about how terrible it would be to get stuck in traffic with grouchy kids in the car. How do I entertain them while also dealing the plight of rush-hour traffic? I don’t think I could handle listening to Miley Cyrus or that Bieber kid sing about boyfriends while also having to suppress road rage.

-While walking through Wal-Mart, I start noticing all the things that my kid would probably grab off the shelf. There are a lot of cleaners sitting low; and the electronics section is suddenly a game of “How quickly could I go broke if my kid smashed all THAT on the ground . . .” 

-Everything I eat makes me hope that my kid doesn’t have food allergies. They always want whatever you are eating and I’d hate to have to tell my kid no on the premise of health issues. “Daddy doesn’t share!!” No, dad doesn’t want you to swell up like the blueberry girl in Willy Wonka.

   On a more serious note, another thing I have been really concerned with is the “today’s generation” way of growing up. There are a lot of things I really don’t think I’d be able to let me kid do. Things that I just don’t think are healthy.

   Examples: sitting inside all day playing on a video game, watching a hefty chunk of today’s television; the shows are complete garbage, never being kicked out of the house to go play in the backyard.

   Activities where the brain doesn’t really have to work at all. There is not a shred of creativity or imagination happening when a kid’s eyeballs are glued to a 3Ds.

   Imagination is a rarely found thing it would seem nowadays. Where you used to turn a pine cone, a magnifying glass and an ant pile into a dragon and a castle; now you just play a game and stare at a screen with dragons and castles. While countless ants’ lives have indeed been spared from the wrath of the magnifying glass; kids just don’t do the same things they used to do to probe their imagination. They are called legos. Make a castle or a moon rover or something. . . .

   I know other parents will be quick to judge, “No cable? Can’t have fast food? ONLY get to play video games an hour and a half per day during the week?! What kind of a poverty-stricken family must you come from?!”

   What must surely follow from these decisions is either being picked on at school for not having those things at home, or my kid coming home and complaining about all the ‘cool things’ their friends have, watch and get to do.

“Dad, I wanna be a Jersey Girl, like the ones on Jenny’s TV!”

Well, we weren’t going to abandon you in the streets, but, maybe we should reconsider such things…  

   Or worse, giving my child an honest answer as to why they aren’t allowed to watch or do some of the things their friends do.  . . Then having to explain to the other kid’s parents why my kid is ‘insulting’ their kid at school later.

“Listen, I didn’t actually SAY your daughter is a hussie and your son is a gangsterific thugster. What I SAID was you let your daughter watch shows like Tiara Toddlers and Jersey Wives, and that she wears clothes that were run through a shredder and show more skin than a Maxim shoot. As for any comments about your son, maybe you don’t know this, but he wears his pants around his shins and I’ve heard less foul language from an Eminem album. I think my daughter understands that such a lifestyle leads inevitably to “hussyism” and “thuggery” and therefore drew her own conclusions. . . kids today, eh?”

   Yup. I can confidently say I am pretty sure this conversation will actually happen at least once within the next 10 years. At least.

Sometimes, however, there are the times when, at least to me, it’s just what would seem to be common sense for ‘not letting your kids do…’

“Well, you don’t have kids, so don’t judge. You can’t understand until you actually have kids…”

He’s six years old and punching things off the shelf and stomping on them. I am pretty sure he needs his little butt whipped, or a time-out or something!

“Oh, it’s that simple is it? Just resort to spanking him? Oh, I wish I would have known, thanks Dr. Phil with the years of experience in caring for children. You should write a book or something . . .”

All I’m saying is maybe you shouldn’t let him punch things off the shelf and run around the store destroying stuff. He’s STILL doing it. Are you going to pay for all the stuff he’s broken?

“They shouldn’t put expensive things down low where kids can grab it. Someday you’ll understand when you have kids…”

   Anyways, as we get closer to there actually being a wee-baby around, I have found myself evaluating “what I would do” whenever we are out in public. It’s not that I’m judging people; I’m just always wondering if I would let my kid do certain things. We’ll find out soon enough…

So that’s the latest I suppose. Nothing too new to report. We are anxiously counting down the days until the ultrasound and all I do is think about things like this all day. It’s kinda nerve-wracking. Well, keep an eye out, more coming soon . . .

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The Cheetus Fetus and a Quick Recap

 

Well, it’s been three weeks since a real post here on Doing It Daddy Style. I guess a combination of vacation, general life busyness and a severe traffic jam of ideas in my brain have all kept me from making real progress here… Which is kinda also what this post is; that idea traffic jam spilled onto the screen. We’ll call it a quick catch-up.

 

The progress of our wee-fetus? Currently at 20 weeks. . .  We have come up with some great names based on my iPhone’s app telling us all the technical happenings in the week-by-week development.

 

Last week we found out that there is this “…cheese-like substance starting to cover [our] baby…called Vernix.”

 

Armed with this knowledge, a conversation ensued that ended with the new nickname “The Cheetus. The cheesy Fetus Mom-to-be’s know and love.” To be read in the (no pun intended) cheesiest sales announcer voice you can muster.

 

It has also been brought to my attention by Marie that Noah is apparently out of the running for a boy name. We made it five months under the premise of this being the name. And now it’s out. Cue my mother’s ‘I told you so’ on the never-ending name game. I thought we were doing well with such name desiciveness so early.

 

The biggest issue that surrounds this picking of the boy name is that it has to flow verbally with the middle name Dale. It’s become a pass down along my father’s side of the family… So, I am casually doomed to using it. Not that I mind in anyway, it’s just kind of a crunchy name to pair with something else when said.

 

And now that our wee-cheetus can hear, I have been giving it updates on the world every once in a while. Mostly I inform s/he of the things that it won’t be doing, such as talking back, not eating vegtables, throwing tantrums. . . . My kid is going to be a perfect angel. I tell it all about the latest events around the house, like the dogs licking their butts and such. My kid is in the know in the most local of news.

 

Another week and a half and we’ll know the gender. More than excited to know either way. We should have found out by now, but thanks to the Navy medical system and an “employee” that sits at the scheduling desk with the phone off the hook….. it took two and a half weeks JUST to get an appointment scheduled.

On the plus side, when they do look to see what’s happening in the Cheetus Nether regions, there will be much less question one way or the other.

 

Here in the U.S. we had Father’s day this past Sunday. It was awkward getting texts and phone calls with people telling ME happy Father’s Day.

 

“Oh yeah, that’s right . . . “ was my average response. It’s not that I forgot my kid, it’s that I forgot this day finally applies to me.

 

The father of a Cheetus. Wonder if I could get a bumper sticker or a shirt with that on it. Instead of “Proud Dad-to-be…” I could advertise my “Proud Parent of a Wee-Cheetus” status. Like an honor roll, but cheesier.

 

Well, having not really said anything useful thus far, I suppose it’s time to wrap this post up. Back to the name drawing board (BOO! sound effects from the crowd in my brain… ) and counting down the days until the 26th when we get our ultrasound. Gender defined shopping, here we come. Keep close, more coming. . . .

 

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Finally Fat…And Marie’s Hating it Until She’s ‘Actually’ Pregnant . . .

 

 So, we haven’t focused too much on the whole “physical pregnancy process” in the last few weeks. So, it’s time for an update.

   Marie has officially started showing. I’m thrilled, as I’m sure you can deduce. To her, the problem is currently “I just look fat.” Never in the 3.5 years we have thus far been together has she shown any inkling of care for what other people thought. There are moments when it would have come in handy, maybe just a little, but, still never cared, until now.

I just look fat.

But you aren’t fat. You are “with fetus”

Stop calling it that, it’s weird.

That’s WHAAT IT IIIS . . . Don’t get mad at me, get mad at science.

It’s a gross sounding word, and I don’t want to look fat.

You don’t look FAT. You look pregnant.

Maybe to you, that’s because you KNOW I’m pregnant.

Well, that’s a good thing. I’d be real mad if I thought you were just fat and it turned out you were 4.5 months pregnant and you hadn’t told me.

See, you would think I looked fat if you didn’t know I was pregnant. Other people don’t know I’m pregnant.

(Shoot, she has a valid point, think. . . . think. . . . redirect the conversation…) Your face and arms don’t look fat (score one for my cleverness) and since WHEN do you care what other people think?

Yeah. But still…. (As she stands in front of the mirror doing that sideways look thing you women do. . . )

   We have this conversation almost every day. Same. Exact. Conversation. I’ll tell her she looks beautifully pregnant, but the general response is “I don’t want to look beautifully pregnant. I want to look NORMAL pregnant.”

   To which I remind her that she does absolutely NOTHING normal. And I MEAN nothing. At all. It’s one of those things that you come to appreciate about a person as part of their personality, except with Marie it’s also one of those things that you come to appreciate as part of her honest and sincere one in a millionness.

   As for the ‘Wee-baby Sheamus,’ as I have started calling it… (this poor kid is going to have such a gender crisis if it turns out to be a girl…Also, that’s a reference to the cartoon Archer, which if you haven’t seen and you have any kind of appreciation for the concept of “adult humor” and any kind of appreciation for cartoons, you need to see this. It’s on Netflix.) we are days away from the 18th week; speaking of the gender.

   However, I am flying home in a week so we are waiting for the 12th of June when I get back to have the ultrasound to tell us if we need to start buying ‘monster truck/construction/dinosaur’ or ‘whatever is out there in girl stuff’ –themed things from this point on…. Yay technology.    

   Also, I am tired of calling my baby it. She hates the word fetus, but has no opinion on ‘it.’ Every time I say ‘it’ I immediately feel like a parent that knows nothing about their kid and is totally uninvolved in ‘its’ life. Dang it. Failing already. That’s one of the reasons for starting to call it ‘Wee-baby Sheamus,’ as it is better than the word ‘it.’

   Also, according to my trusty pregnancy app, in the 17th week the baby can hear. I have been having lots of fun with this. I will lean in towards Marie’s belly, say something at a mid-level volume and when she says “What?” I immediately respond with “I wasn’t talking to you. . . “

   In addition to the also, her coworkers now call her the Vessel, which I think is quite funny. She doesn’t, but has accepted it; until I started throwing it out every once in awhile at home… :)

Does the Vessel want to be refueled with Chicken or Spaghetti for dinner?

That’s NOT funny. . . . and spaghetti I guess…

 Well that’s all I’ve got for now. I’m looking forward to going home. I’m OH so sure that interaction with my Ma and family alike will result in blogging gold.

 

   In the back of my head I heard “What the HELL is that supposed to mean?” in my mother’s voice and tone as I wrote that… She then throws a ‘Oh, WHATever…” out in response to that and a “dammit, stop it” to the whatever; as she has a bad habit of stopping her reading to comment, then gets madder at each known outburst, it’s kinda like controllable Turret’s….  Love ya Ma.

 More coming soon, stay close and refresh your browser often….

 

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The First Ultrasound, WITH Pictures!!!!

 

So, we had our first ultrasound. 147-156 was the heartbeat rate, but it was doing leg kicks like it was impersonating Michael Phelps…. Who listens to wives tales anyways . . . . . PLEASE be a boy!?

I think I slightly disappointed the ultrasound lady and Marie. It was exciting, but I wasn’t like oh man, there actually IS a BABY in there. . . . For me it’s already hit. I know it and I have mentally grasped it. I am excited and it was totally awesome to see my little me in there. Which, boy or girl, it’s definitely MY genes in there, the legs were astoundingly long.

See? That’s a lot of legs. (It’s upside down, the legs are the V / U looking thing, the feet didn’t show up in this one, so it’s just the legs you see)

Unfortunately, it’ll be another couple weeks before we can tell the gender.  So, more waiting. It’s like a preliminary round of “learn your patience” for when the kid actually gets here.

So now I have ultrasound photos, and I am trying to not be that person that runs around forcing people to be pretend excited about an unrecognizable mass of grays and whites.

“There’s the leg, see right here, oh no, sorry, that’s the arm, isn’t it cute?”

Just nod, smile and agree people, it’ll only get worse once I actually have the kid…. Photos galore.

So, anywho, that’s the latest. Now, allow me to force some of my ultrasound photos onto all of you ;)

 

 

 

The last one is a hand, in case you missed it. That is pretty crazy. That’s my little baby….. Yay for us!! In another couple of weeks we’ll know the gender, and then we can shop our faces off appropriately. Hope they don’t get it wrong, haha. Well, that’s all for now!

(WHOA! A short post. . . . didn’t think it was possible. . . but I did it!)

 

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$38.50 | 89 Pieces of Clothing | Beating My Ma at Deal Finding. . .

My mother and I are always competing. In everything we do it’s either outwitting the other or straight competition. Buying baby clothes has been no exception.

So, I wrote out that I THOUGHT my mother was beating me. Then I said, well, wait a second. Let’s bust out some math skills and see within each deal how much was paid per item.

I am winning by a margin of 3 cents per item.

Close, but, still winning.

Take that, Ma!

Post deleted and updated.

Now that we have gotten that out-of-the-way and the world knows that I am in the lead as the family deal finder….. Let’s just look, real quick, at how much $38.50 can get you in the world of yard sales. I would like to point out that none of this is in ANY way stained up or worn out. It’s all side-by-side looking as good as new.

Set one: 23 total pieces of clothing. $12 spent for a grand total of .52 cents per item:

(By the way, that’s .52 cents for that thick full body jacket)

Deal Numero Two (this is my Mom’s find): 44 total pieces of clothing on a total of $18 (she said less than $20, so I am giving her $18):

I have to be honest….. She does have things very tightly piled here. So, oh it hurts…. my fingers ar re seaeizing up. . . .  .  .  … .   she. MIghgt. Be. Winning. . . .

AH! That was really tough to type. MIGHT. Should there be some things that I can’t see in there. Anyways, that’s 44 pieces as I can see it, at an estimated $18 spent (known to be less than $20, for ALL that… good job, Ma!) for a grand total of .40 cents spent per item.

And now, for the currently winning deal (that means MY latest find. . . . )

Set 3. With 23 pieces and only $8.50 spent.

I’d like to take note, before we go over the per item amount in this particular batch of clothing, the content of what we have here. A heavy knit sweater/pants combo, 2 pairs of denim, a pair of corduroys, the khaki pants, and the center of my focus here, the OshKosh brand overalls AND the Vans shoes. Now. At 23 total items for only $8.50, that’s a total of .37 cents per item. .37 cents for Van’s brand shoes. Check out how much these are new. If you don’t feel like clicking a link, that’s $37 bucks. Oh, and the OshKosh overalls, hmmmmm…… Googling it brings back about $16 bucks new. So. That’s more than $50 for just the Vans and the overalls. Now, unless I want my baby to really look like a hillbilly, I am going to need a shirt to go under the overalls. Let’s see. Oh, google shopping brings back $3.50 as the cheapest plain T on the first page. I’m not even at a buck twenty yet for that same outfit ‘used.’ Also, I didn’t count the socks or the bib in my final count for competitive comparison. I don’t see socks that small as an item worth paying money for. It’s like three cents worth of fabric. They gave me all of those (8 pairs) for a quarter (which means I paid a penny and a half each, for the record).

Bottom line? This yard sale shopping has been extremely profitable for us. Saving a ton of money, and might already be to the point that the kid’s only going to get to wear each piece of clothing once before s/he out grows it all. And for those really crunching numbers, that averages out just in these photos and not including the little here and there’s that we have picked up (yes, there are even more, I’ll have to lay them ALL out and get a photo…), to be .43 cents per item. I’d say that’s a pretty good price for something we are only going to use for 3 months and then sell to the next person. We’ll sell them for .50 cents a piece and make a .07 cent gain per item. That would be a $6.23 profit…. and if we REALLY wanted to we could probably get like $4 for the big heavy jacket thing on its own, and a dollar for the overalls. It’s all about the frugalling.

That’s all for now, ultrasound is tomorrow. Super stoked!!!! Really hoping we can tell the gender at 16ish weeks. We’ll find out tomorrow. More later…

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Sweet Emotions, Like an Onion in My Pocket . . .

So.

   Gonna be a DAD. It keeps hitting me at random times. And when it hits me I am forced to swallow the pit I get in my throat and try not to get all teary. I’m a man. The only time I cry is when I’m dicing jalapenos and onions with karate chops for a delicious dip. (That’s not even true, I have an AMAZING chopper/cutter/dicer thingie-ma-doo that I LOVE. Seriously guys, this thing rocks, but anyways, back to the point)

   I have never had an experience where just the thought of it gets my eyes all watery. I am so overwhelmed with love and excitement for this kid already. But it can come at the, not best, of times.

   I am a wedding photographer. Well, I am an anything people photographer, but I was shooting a wedding this weekend and it hit me again, while shooting the parent/children dances. The mother/daughter, mother/son and in particular, the father/daughter. I watched as both of them in every dance are overcome with emotion and love for the other.  It didn’t help that they had songs like “Butterfly Kisses” playing and all I could think about was holding my kid for the first time. My eyes were getting all watery, my chin was wobbling like an elephant on a tight rope. It was a sudden madhouse of emotion in my head. The people watching hopefully didn’t notice  ME…. “I think the photographer is a little unstable. He started crying during the dances . . . . . a little odd, that one. . . .”

   It made me realize that while I would love my child regardless of its gender, ( well, regardless of anything but for the sake of my next statement we’ll go with the simple statement of regardless of gender)  I am incapable of wrapping my head around how much I would love and in a sense fear for having a little girl, and I think it’s one of the reasons I want a boy.

   With a boy, you want them to get out there and experience the world. Fall off the bike, eat the dirt, ask the girl out, “learn to accept rejection, boy, that’s called the harsh reality of life and unless you want to be a pansy your whole life, you better learn to deal with it.”

   Toughen them up for the world. It’s rough out there and you have to get ready for it.

   But, with a little girl, it seems to be such an opposite concept. I’ll want to run next to the bike to keep her safe, put a blanket over the dirt for all her dolls and keeping her clothes clean and dating isn’t an option until she’s 20 and even then they aren’t leaving the house until I’ve gotten the background check on that boy back from the FBI. (It’s ok, they can leave now, I’ll just wear a dark outfit and sit in the back of the theater with a flashlight ready for that hand to creep up in a stretching position. “HANDS OFF, BUD. . . .”)

   I think one of the reasons, maybe subconsciously, that us guys want a little boy is that, at least the way I see it, the fear of that extra emotional need to shield a little girl from the harshness and hurt that is, or can be, life.  That’s a terrifying responsibility that you HAVE to fail at if you want your kid to grow up and function in the world. The only way to call it a success is how you allow it to happen; if you manage to make it to certain ages before certain realities occur.

   Either way, boy or girl though, I can’t help but get a little choked up every time I think about it. I am going to be a Dad. I have looked forward to having kids since I was like 14. It’s an exciting thought. Yeah, there’s the first year where it’s just changing diapers and being up for, well, what I hear is pretty much the entire year. But then you get a little buddy to do stuff with. Someone who thinks you are one of the two coolest people in the whole world.

   See, even now, getting all emotional over it.

   Dammit. I need to carry an onion and cream cheese in my pocket at all times.

Co-worker: “What’s wrong with you?”

Me: “Oh, nothing, these onions get me every time”

Co-worker: “You keep onions in your pocket?”

Me: “Never know when you’ll need to make a good party dip…”

Co-worker (walking away): “So weird. . . . I hope he doesn’t take ME hostage when he loses his mind…”

   Jokes aside. I am still discovering my excitement. I think I am excited, and then I realize, I hadn’t even realized, and that keeps happening over and over.

   But when things around me happen that involve my thinking about it being a girl, I get extra choked up. I have come to the realization that I do want a little girl, even more than I want a boy, BUT . . . I don’t know that I am ready for that extra feeling of responsibility. Boys are hardy. They are more like a test run for parenting a little girl because as a man I can relate more to him, he’ll be his own person I’m sure; but a boy is more like me, and a boy can handle a scratched knee and learn to outwit the kids when they make fun of him at school. A little girl, I’m going to be on the doorstep of those kids’ houses demanding apologies because no one is going to treat my little girl like that.

   Every kid gets put on a pedestal by their parents, boy or girl. But, the boys are more apt to fall off, take the pedestal apart and figure it out. A girl will sit there and proudly be.

   I’m not ready to have a daddy’s girl. Because I am too emotional I think. I’m never going to be able to say no to my little girl, and she’s going to get spoiled rotten and I’ll happily let her wrap me around her finger.  

   They say (you know, they, the all-knowing people we learn from on the internet) that when looking for a boyfriend or girlfriend, life-long kinda parter, we subconsciously look for someone like our opposite gender parent. I will want to spoil my little girl because that’s what her future husband should be compared to when she thinks of how she was treated as a kid and wants to be treated her whole life.

 

   If, by now in the post, you are still here, thanks for listening. This is a rambling post for sure, more meant to be a documenting the process and capturing my feelings in the now, kinda thing. It’s part of this blog’s purpose.

   So, as I continue to realize the concept that I guess is “A Father’s love . . . “ I’m sure I’ll have a few more posts just letting the world, mainly my family and friends, as well as those looking for a new Dad-to-be’s views and opinions, into my brain. I’ll make a “ramblings” category so you’ll know what you’re getting into before you even start the blog ;) Stay tuned!

 

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Shopping Smartly, Because “I Ain’t Rich” . . . .

   OK, so the most frustrating thing I have encountered to date, aside from waiting on the visual results  of this pregnancy . . . . is not yet knowing the gender of this kid! (I mean, confirming that it’s a boy…)

   The first thing we have wanted to do is run out and buy stuff. I’m excited, I want to get stuff and start preparing now. I want my kid to have a thousand different outfits so he looks differently cute every day of the year, and a badass stroller that we can go anywhere in, and a cool spinny sit-in toy station… I want to discover a way to make tons of money so I don’t have to budget and only buy so much at a time. . . . . . Any of you that might be filthy rich reading this, send me a DNA sample. . . . I know we are related somehow, you know Uncle Frank, right????

   Anyways. We have been taking to the yard sales for things like onesies and the newborn type clothes. I have had mixed responses when telling people that we are buying used baby clothes. Some are less than excited to hear such a thing and I am forced to have a battle of wits with them, which I always end up winning. . . .

Me: “Yeah, we are having a kid, I am super excited. Don’t know if it’s a boy or girl yet, so we have started getting ‘neutral’ kinda stuff at like yard sales, just basic preparations, you know? Onesies and stuff like that.”

Random Irritating-Opinioned Person (RIOP): “YARD SALES!? Like, USED stuff?? For a BABY?!”

Me: “Well, yeah. Once you wash it, what’s it matter. The kid is just going to puke all over it anyways and it’s only going to fit for a couple months…”

RIOP: “It’s not CLEAN and NEW.” (I’d like to point out the all caps are that irritating stress people put on words, like you are an idiot and need EXTRA EMPHASIS on CERTAIN WORDS which are spoken a LITTLE BIT SLOWER so that their point is REALLY MADE. . . . .)

Me: “Well, they make detergents that kill bacteria nowadays, it’s not like the 1800’s where you washed clothes in a creek bed. And NEW just means expensive in terms of clothing. We don’t really do useless expensive…”

RIOP: “I guess if you want your kid wearing secondhand clothes with puke stains all over them…”

Me: “Oh, I know right. The baby fashion police are totally going to arrest us. And also, a newborn’s opinion SHOULD be considered in what they WANT to wear. You know how picky kids are today. It’s like, BAM!, out of the womb for twenty seconds and already complaining about not having Armani suits or Gucci dresses. And clearly I am going to buy shitty raggedy clothing, the more holes and puke stains the better I say. There’s not decent stuff out there at all for reasonable prices unless it still has the chunks on the front and poop stains on the back. . . ”

RIOP: ” . . . . .  . (nasty look and lip/eyebrow  raise combo) kinda rude…”

Me: “As is your opinion of my buying habits. Have a great day!”

   Most everyone else I talk to though gets it. Find good-looking clothes that the seller’s kids only wore for like 2 months until they outgrew it for hardly the price of a single onesie new. Have you looked at new onesies? 8 bucks new on the cheap side. I found 17 pieces of clothing, to INCLUDE an H&M coat/suit/winter hiking Mt. Everest thing for $12. (hold for applause at my haggling abilities . . . . . . . . )

   No we don’t know the gender, but yes we bought a Batman shirt. Don’t even think about telling Marie that you have to be a boy to like Batman. She made the call that if we have a girl, she is still wearing that shirt. (And she’ll like fishing, and working on cars, and hunting. . . . . . )

   I bet that winter jacket suit alone would cost like $30 bucks. Yeah, ok, a few of them lean towards “boy colors” but they are neutral enough.

   And also, like I said before, the kid is just going to puke ALL OVER THEM ANYWAYS!!! It’s time to accept that we can’t have anything nice for at least six years now. (I know, all the ‘already parents’ probably laugh right there, “heh, SIX, boy is he in for a surprise”) Nothing is safe unless it’s kept in a man-room behind a triple locked door. As will be ALL my photography gear. 

    I say all that to point out this. We are looking at a ‘well-rated for safety’ car seat and stroller combo that costs more than $200. That’s a LOT of money. But that’s where it counts. Drop the dough on things that have to do with the safety and well-being of your kid. Until my child is probably four or five, the bulk of their clothes are going to be hand-me-down or bought-used clothes. Because kids are expensive, and I don’t even know yet, but at least I am aware. Eight bucks is a box of cheapo diapers, and I bet you the cheapo diapers suck, which means $13 for a box of good diapers. Look at what I got for that same amount in USED clothes. (Go ahead, scroll back up a bit. . . . . . that’s like $100+ in “new” clothes. . . . . . and they are all in good clean shape. No stains or anything. No one will even know unless they ask, or unless I brag about my great deal hunting skills. . . . ok, so, everyone will end up knowing, but I really don’t care.) Imagine how many diapers I’ll be able to buy with all the money I save from not buying that stuff new.

   But, on the flip side of that, You bet I won’t be buying a used car seat. Who knows what kind of stresses were put on that thing. I don’t know how safe that used seat is after a year or more of use. Not worth the risk. That’s my kid’s life. You can’t wash use out of stressed plastics and metal. I’d rather be dropping good money into the safety of my kid than his or her fashion sense. They have me as a Dad. Fashion sense? psshh. Gone already.

   Another thing that we have been looking at buying as a money saver is the Baby Bullet. I don’t know about you, but, spending two bucks on a glass jar with a half of a carrot in it doesn’t make much sense to me. I’ll keep a full opinion on the thing saved for when we actually get it, but, here’s the quick lowdown I have on the Baby Bullet idea:

   It comes with a reasonable set of plastic jars, something like ten of them. That’s plenty enough to only have to puree stuff up like once every couple of days. You know exactly what your kid is eating, it’s not made in some factory who knows where where who knows just WHAT has gone into it. . .  and hasn’t sat for who really knows how long on the shelf.
I am not knocking on baby food companies here. All I am saying is just as YOU should be aware of what you are eating, you should care even more what your KID is eating. After all they are probably sucking up way more of the nutrients and contents of that food than we are, as they are growing at a crazy fast rate and need every scrap of nutrient they can get. This I do know. I live with a 12-year-old girl, she is like I was at that age, an endless pit that consumes everything and doesn’t stop growing.

   Also, with this thing, think of all that glass that gets thrown out with the jars of baby food. The jars that come with it are reusable, so you are doing an environmental favor too. I know, I know, who cares, blah, blah, you are hoping there isn’t a rapidly approaching segment on global warming. All I am saying is I hate driving by the local landfill and having it stink the place up. If we can find a way to not contribute to the trash piles, be giving our kids fresher, better food and feel like a mad scientist while grinding carrots and broccoli up with Dr. Horrible’s theme song playing in the background, why not?

   Bottom line in this side track? Baby Bullet. We are getting one.

   So to wrap up a rapidly approaching 1,300 words post. Buy smart. Don’t waste money on clothes the kid is going to outgrow in like 3 months, (1,300 words, hit) save money where you can and drop it where it matters, like a stroller that will stick with you for 3-5 years and a car seat that will save your child’s life in the terrible event that you are in an accident, or a crib designed around your child’s safety….. At this moment in time, and for the rest of it, your life becomes forever second to the life you have created. Spend the money you have now wisely to ensure your kid’s safety and future. Besides, it’s fun to argue with RIOP’s about second-hand stuff and how gross of a person you are and already how terrible of a parent you must be for shopping at a thrift store :) More of my opinion to come, stay tuned!

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