Brian Kantz, Buffalo, NY-based writer and editor

THE NEWBIE DAD - JULY 2007

CAN’T FOOL THIS GUY TWICE

You know the old adage: fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me. That definitely applies to being a parent.

When you have your first child, you’re pretty much obligated to play by the rules. There’s a lot of pressure (from family, the media, baby product manufacturers and yourself) to do things “right.” In fact, you actually believe that there is a “right” way to do everything. You don’t know any better.

When you have your second child, though, it hits you like a ton of bricks: wow, did I do things the hard way that first time around!

Four months into having our second child around the house, here are a few of the parenting myths that I’ve busted.

You must change the baby’s clothes after he spits up. I can’t tell you how many times I’d be on the way out of the house with our first son when blug-blug, he’d up-chug some formula all over his shirt and mine. “Drats!” I’d frantically call as I raced to find a new outfit for him, iron a new shirt for me, and do it all in less than five minutes. Whew, crisis averted. Then, more often than not, as I was ready to leave the second time: more blug-blug.

What a fool I was. Here’s the deal: wipe off the mess and off you go. There’s no need to get a whole new outfit ready. There’s no need to change your own shirt. Why? Because the blug-blug is likely to happen again and you could potentially be changing the kid 18 times in one day. Nobody really cares if there’s a little stain on your shirt and, truthfully, when you’re around a baby all day, you know that there are worse smells than that.

You must warm the bottle evenly over the stove. First, let’s address the whole “warm the bottle” thing. Is it scientifically necessary? No. Is it a nice thing to do? I guess. We do, but that’s only because we’re suckers. Anyhow, with our first child, we read somewhere that you must warm a bottle over the stove so that the milk is evenly warm. The article warned that warming the bottle in the microwave could create a scalding hot layer of liquid at the top of the bottle. This could seriously injure your baby, it screamed in italics. So, there I was, three in the morning, lighting the stove, pouring the correct amount of formula into the saucepan, waiting, waiting, waiting, dipping finger in to test the temp, then waiting, waiting, waiting.

Finally, a friend asked: “why are you doing that? Why don’t you pop it in the microwave?” We explained the whole uneven warming thing. She shook her head and laughed at us rookies. “Just put the correct amount in a coffee mug — you can’t put a plastic bottle in the microwave anyhow — then after it’s heated, pour the formula into the bottle and shake it up. That will even out the temperature.”

What a fool I was! How simple, how profound. I now know that 29 seconds in the microwave is perfect for six ounces. I can even spend that time doing something else besides dipping my finger in the formula — I can load the dishwasher, get my older son his own snack, or make up new nicknames for the baby (Patrick, Pa Bear, Patrick the Hat Trick, Pat in the Hat, etc.)

You must be prepared for every remote possibility when taking the baby out of the house. You should have seen me a few years ago — you couldn’t miss me. I was the guy loaded down with the baby in the baby carrier, an Army-sized backpack, and a duffel bag full of various provisions. I looked like a sherpa headed up Everest. And that was just to go to the grocery store. Unbelievable. What can I say? I wanted to be prepared. The baby might have to eat, poop three times, have his clothes changed twice and want to play with a herd of stuffed animals all while strolling through Wegmans.

What a fool I was! Today, I time it so the kids actually eat and get a fresh diaper before we leave and I go by this rule: provisions are limited to what can fit in the side pockets of my cargo pants.

You must be on time for every appointment. Finally, I used to start getting our first son ready about an hour before we had to be somewhere. I wanted to be on time.

What a fool I was! I’ve realized over the years that if you have a kid in tow, that’s a free pass to be late to almost any gathering. I don’t abuse this rule, mind you. I still prefer to be on time. But if I am running a little late, I don’t freak out anymore. If you stride in to an appointment with a baby in arms and announce, “Sorry I’m a little late, it took me longer to get the baby ready than I thought,” I can guarantee that not only will you be immediately forgiven, but the person who was waiting will end up apologizing to you. Now who’s been fooled?


Brian Kantz



		© 2008 Brian Kantz • All rights reserved • Contact Brian

	THE NEWBIE DAD - JULY 2007 CAN’T FOOL THIS GUY TWICE You know the old adage: fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me. That definitely applies to being a parent. When you have your first child, you’re pretty much obligated to play by the rules. There’s a lot of pressure (from family, the media, baby product manufacturers and yourself) to do things “right.” In fact, you actually believe that there is a “right” way to do everything. You don’t know any better. When you have your second child, though, it hits you like a ton of bricks: wow, did I do things the hard way that first time around! Four months into having our second child around the house, here are a few of the parenting myths that I’ve busted. You must change the baby’s clothes after he spits up. I can’t tell you how many times I’d be on the way out of the house with our first son when blug-blug, he’d up-chug some formula all over his shirt and mine. “Drats!” I’d frantically call as I raced to find a new outfit for him, iron a new shirt for me, and do it all in less than five minutes. Whew, crisis averted. Then, more often than not, as I was ready to leave the second time: more blug-blug. What a fool I was. Here’s the deal: wipe off the mess and off you go. There’s no need to get a whole new outfit ready. There’s no need to change your own shirt. Why? Because the blug-blug is likely to happen again and you could potentially be changing the kid 18 times in one day. Nobody really cares if there’s a little stain on your shirt and, truthfully, when you’re around a baby all day, you know that there are worse smells than that. You must warm the bottle evenly over the stove. First, let’s address the whole “warm the bottle” thing. Is it scientifically necessary? No. Is it a nice thing to do? I guess. We do, but that’s only because we’re suckers. Anyhow, with our first child, we read somewhere that you must warm a bottle over the stove so that the milk is evenly warm. The article warned that warming the bottle in the microwave could create a scalding hot layer of liquid at the top of the bottle. This could seriously injure your baby, it screamed in italics. So, there I was, three in the morning, lighting the stove, pouring the correct amount of formula into the saucepan, waiting, waiting, waiting, dipping finger in to test the temp, then waiting, waiting, waiting. Finally, a friend asked: “why are you doing that? Why don’t you pop it in the microwave?” We explained the whole uneven warming thing. She shook her head and laughed at us rookies. “Just put the correct amount in a coffee mug — you can’t put a plastic bottle in the microwave anyhow — then after it’s heated, pour the formula into the bottle and shake it up. That will even out the temperature.” What a fool I was! How simple, how profound. I now know that 29 seconds in the microwave is perfect for six ounces. I can even spend that time doing something else besides dipping my finger in the formula — I can load the dishwasher, get my older son his own snack, or make up new nicknames for the baby (Patrick, Pa Bear, Patrick the Hat Trick, Pat in the Hat, etc.) You must be prepared for every remote possibility when taking the baby out of the house. You should have seen me a few years ago — you couldn’t miss me. I was the guy loaded down with the baby in the baby carrier, an Army-sized backpack, and a duffel bag full of various provisions. I looked like a sherpa headed up Everest. And that was just to go to the grocery store. Unbelievable. What can I say? I wanted to be prepared. The baby might have to eat, poop three times, have his clothes changed twice and want to play with a herd of stuffed animals all while strolling through Wegmans. What a fool I was! Today, I time it so the kids actually eat and get a fresh diaper before we leave and I go by this rule: provisions are limited to what can fit in the side pockets of my cargo pants. You must be on time for every appointment. Finally, I used to start getting our first son ready about an hour before we had to be somewhere. I wanted to be on time. What a fool I was! I’ve realized over the years that if you have a kid in tow, that’s a free pass to be late to almost any gathering. I don’t abuse this rule, mind you. I still prefer to be on time. But if I am running a little late, I don’t freak out anymore. If you stride in to an appointment with a baby in arms and announce, “Sorry I’m a little late, it took me longer to get the baby ready than I thought,” I can guarantee that not only will you be immediately forgiven, but the person who was waiting will end up apologizing to you. Now who’s been fooled?