My oldest Sam was born during the same year as the first issue of RFM (happy 15th!), and by the time my second son Charlie joined us a few years later, the magazine had given me countless pointers, inspiring stories, and routine laughs. Special thanks to Childhood Development Center at Wyndham for always having a fresh stack on the counter at drop-off and pickup. The magazine found its way into my life at the perfect time, and I will always feel fortunate for that.
And all these years later, I still appreciate the tips. My challenges and tactics have evolved, but my goals stay the same: be a “good dad,” keep my family safe and happy, pull my weight where I can, lessen the stress a little, try to help fix the things that need – overall, make life easier.
When Sam was born, feeding and sleeping were not his strong suits. He was adorable by day and insufferable by night, through no fault of his own. None of the natural feeding methods worked, so we were forced to move to a highly specific infant formula. Eventually we landed on something super affordable with a name like Enfamil Platinum™ only sold by monks. Jokes aside, it was worth every penny.
Step 1: Get the food down.
Step 2: Keep the food down. Oh yeah, but also without our baby feeling like acid reflux was eating through his chest. Sam’s car seat was the only place he could lie without being in agony. There was a catch though – he had to be in constant motion. Fortunately, gas prices were far cheaper than Sam’s formula, so we’d hit the road and do a few hundred 25mph NASCAR laps around the neighborhood. The prize was peace and quiet. When I’d get too tired to drive, we would come home. I’d detach the car seat from its base and bring it into the house with Sam still in it. My wife and I would rotate 2-hour shifts throughout the night, where I’d often lie next to his seat on the kitchen floor. I’d rock him in the car seat back-and-forth, back-and-forth, and Sam would sleep until I would inevitably drift off. Then, our little drill sergeant would wake up and call me to attention. Baby bootcamp was tough.
Sidebar: This was 2009. Billions of babies had been born to date. Humans had evolved beyond imagination through an industrial revolution, modern medicine, air and space travel, the internet, online marketplaces – all of which are very accessible to the public. At one point they even invented chairs that but only for old people. Nothing electronic. And everyone knows babies need to be in car seats, right?
Here’s the part where you’re like, “Jason, get a baby swing, you idiot.” Trust me when I tell you that you’re not the only one who suggested that. So we went to Babies“R”Us, which was luckily just a couple miles from our home, and splurged for the nicer
model that had three speeds, multiple rotations, different jiggles, jingles, and dangly animals. I set it up as fast as I could, loaded the required eighteen D batteries (I kid you not), and prayed that Sam would approve. He did, and everything was easier.
Over the next year, formula and batteries were our 401k. Sam eventually started teething, eating toddler food, and became a much cooler kid. These days he’s one of my best friends, and we joke about everything together, like how I still don’t forgive him for all the sleepless nights. Sam is still a picky eater and a little lactose intolerant, but as a teenager, at least he has more options when it comes to mealtime.
What I’ve learned from both of my sons over the years is the difference between being a “father” and being a “dad.” My own father left when my brother and I were young, so I’ve always questioned my ability to be a good parent. What I didn’t remind myself of enough, though, was that just being present is what makes life easier for the ones you love. And hopefully the long drives, naps on the kitchen floor, and years of overcoming these hiccups have earned me the title of “dad” and made things just a little bit easier.
