Posts Tagged ‘babies’

I turn 26-years-old tomorrow. Yep. July 16th is my birthday and has been every since I was born…26 years ago. Well, May December Publications and I thought it was a good idea to do a free ebook giveaway in celebration of me turning 26. So let me sum things up for you. This ebook giveaway is my birthday celebration and your party favor is…well, your party favor is the free ebook. Won’t you celebrate with me? Bottom lip poked out, eyes wide, “Won’t you pretty please celebrate with me?” Go to the following link and get your party favor: If you don’t want to read the book, just go on over, click the like button, and download it anyway. Don’t have an ereader? Amazon gives you a free Kindle app for your computer. I mean,  can we make this giveaway any easier? Well, that’s enough of that. Let this shameless plug lead me into today’s blog: A Spirit of Fear.

The Holy Bible states that God did not give us a spirit of fear. WAIT! Don’t you go running off! I’m not about to preach to you. I’m just making a biblical reference. Better now? Go on, catch your breath. Alright, let’s resume.

So the Bible states that God did not give us a spirit of fear. But I observe my five-month-old son and wonder where does fear come from if God did not implant us with it. How does Benjamin know what to be afraid of when he hasn’t learned what to fear?

Truth time. I roared at my son. It was a couple of months ago, and it wasn’t a malicious roar. You know the kind where you place your hands above your head, make finger claws, put on a crazy looking face, and, “WRRRRAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGH!” What do you expect? I’m the author of The BoogeyMann. Anyway, Benjamin became visibly startled, then his face scrunched up, and he began to cry. Of course his mother scolded me for that, and I’m like, “What?! How was I suppose to know he knew to be afraid?” I mean, really! How does a three-month-old baby know that this is frightening?

That wasn’t the only time I noticed that we, as humans, are born with a sense of fear. My child and I were walking through the hallway of our apartment. It was dark. I held the bouncer he sat in so his face was turned toward me. Just to make conversation, I said, “Hey, buddy. What’s going on?” Well, once again, he became startled, then his face scrunched up and he began to cry. “What’s the matter?” I asked as I hurried to get him into the light of the kitchen so he could see my face. “It’s just me. It’s Daddy. Not a monster.” It took a few seconds, but he eventually calmed down. There were a couple more instances of me roaring (because I like to roar at little babies, apparently). One time I was sitting right in front of him. He was staring at me. Eventually I tired of the awkward silence and said, “Hey.” The child visibly flinched, then cried. I’m like, “What the hell?”

“He didn’t expect you to say anything,” his mother said.


Because of these instances, I believe that we were born with a certain amount of fear. How would a baby know to fear the dark and monsters when he has not even seen Friday 13th or A Nightmare on Elm Street? He doesn’t know what a monster is. Benjamin does not know what could possibly lurk in the darkness, and yet he already knows to fear these things. It’s crazy.

My initial theory was that we were given the spirit of fear. However, that time when Benjamin was staring at me and he became startled when I spoke brought another possibility to mind. In the animal kingdom (which we humans are a part of), mammals get their instincts from nursing on their mother. They learn their enemies from information passed on through the milk. They learn what to fear. When I saw my baby become startled, even though he had been staring at me the whole time, I realized that he could have gotten that scary side from his mother. She is (and don’t tell her I told you this) as scary as they come. I have gotten to the point where I have to say, “I’m about to touch you now.” I warn her that I’m going to touch her, I touch her, then she flinches. “I just told you I was going to touch you!” I say. Then she says something about her nerves being bad, or my hand was cold. Whatever. When I go through the apartment, I sometimes call out, “I’m coming to such-and-such,” or “I’m walking behind you. Don’t be alarmed.” There have been times when I would say, “I’m coming up behind you,” then I approach her from the side and she still becomes startled. She is just easily frightened. She won’t even let me have scary movies in the house, and I love scary movies. Probably why she doesn’t even read my writings which are suitable for children. Adventure Time on Cartoon Network freaks her out. Then again, Courage the Cowardly Dog gives me the willies sometimes.

Back to the point I was trying to make. Baby mammals get their instincts and fears from nursing. Benjamin breastfed for a time. If he got his fears from his mother, then that would be everything under the sun. Man! I sure hope it’s not inherited fear. A spirit of fear can be tamed. Inherited fear is for life. And I like to jump out of shadows, and from around corners, and roar. What am I ever to do with a scary child?


Does anyone know?

If Babies ‘R Us do sell minature straight jackets, then they must be an online only product, because I haven’t seen any in the store near me. And if there is no such thing, then there should be. It would certainly help me out when my seven-week-old son is in between sleep and waking up and he’s clawing at his face with his recently trimmed nails–thank God. When his nails haven’t been trimmed, he puts so many scabs on his face that he looks like that demon from the movie, Hellraiser (minus the razorblades).

So there I am, hovering over him while trying to catch his flailing arms. I’m yelling, “Stop scratching yourself, crazy lil’ boy!” He’s just scratching away while screaming from what I assume is night terrors–if babies are capable of having night terrors. Who knows what babies dream about. It’s at this moment that I feel like I’m the warden of some insane asylum. The baby’s always screaming at nothing (it seems) and he’s clawing at his face. Deficating and urinating on himself. Then there are times when he’s staring off into the distance at something I can’t see. “Do you see anything?” I whisper to him. “Is there something there that Daddy should know about? Let me know so I can hightail it out of here.” He doesn’t respond. Benjamin just keeps on staring. “Crazy lil’ boy.”

You know, I post a lot about my child because I find humor in the things people never told me; and I feel like I should warn those without kids. I would never advise couples to avoid having children (I love mine and want a couple more), but people should know that raising a kid isn’t all petting unicorns and riding rainbows. Television commercials told me that having a kid was going to be full of walks in the park and sunshine. I was under the impression that he was going to laugh at all the funny expressions I made, but little did I know, smiling does not come natural to my child. He’s constantly frowning at me, or averting his gaze. “I know you hear me,” I say to him when he’s looking away. He continues to pretend like I’m not holding him. “Alright! I want you to remember this moment when you ask for a car on your sixteenth birthday.” He won’t remember.

If you ever need someone to speak at your child’s school on the subject of abstaining from sex, give me a call. I’ll teach them the horrors of having kids, because we all know the joys. They’re these cute little bundle of joys that bring a smile to your heart. “You complete me,” Dr. Evil said to Mini-Me, and this is how I feel about my little one. But I would kill to be able to watch a movie all the way through. We rent a lot of DVD’s now because it’ll be another two years (maybe) before my girlfriend and I can step foot into a movie theater as a couple. Did you know there aren’t many places you can take a screaming baby? The thought never crossed my mind. Anyway, I would kill to be able to watch a movie all the way through without Benjamin waking up and screaming midway into the movie. I hate being disturbed while watching a movie. People were always telling us that we wouldn’t get any sleep, but they never told us that we would have to watch movies in shifts. Oh, well. If you need me to speak at your child’s school, give me a call. I’ll straighten them horny toads out. Might even let them baby sit Benjamin for a week; he help ruin my sex life.

Look at me getting all off the subject. I was asking if anyone knew if Babies ‘R Us sold straight jackets. I have these little mittens that go on my son’s hands, and they do make him look crazy, but they don’t do his insanity justice. He needs a straight jacket. I don’t know. Maybe I’ll go on Craig’s List, somebody on there might have a infant size straight jacket. And if I can’t find one for him, I might want to get fitted for one.

The Ravings of a Madman

I will begin this post like I begin my prayers, by giving thanks. We give thanks in prayer so we don’t sound ungrateful when we begin to complain about our situations and ask for more blessings; therefore, I feel I must do the same here. I’m am extremely thankful to have my first born son. He’s one of my greatest accomplishments, one of my greatest joys, and I wouldn’t trade him for anything in the world. I thank God for bringing him into this world healthy and sane. Now that the portion of thanksgiving has been done, let me get to the complaining.

For me, parenthood didn’t begin six weeks ago when Benjamin was born. No. Parenthood began when my girlfriend discovered that she was pregnant. I was a father when I was forced to wait on my pregnant girlfriend, hand and foot, for nine months. I was a father when I was by my girlfriend’s side for every doctor appointment. I was so delighted when those nine months were over (and still I say, “Thank God, those days are over!”).  Things are gonna get better now,I thought. No more waiting on my lady twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. No more doctor visits (which turns out we still have to have every month). And Benjamin would finally be here so I could become the father that I never had growing up. Oh, how foolish I was.

You know, I watch those reality shows on television where they show teenagers trying to raise kids. I would shake my head and think, Foolish kids. Children raising children. And most of that is true, but as it turns out, age doesn’t make baby raising any easier. First of all, all my child does is cry, poop, and eat. I feel like a prisoner in my own home, nerves on edge everytime he stirs. Is he waking up? I wonder. Please don’t wake up.And I think this because I know that when he wakes up, he’s going to cry, need a diaper change, be ready to eat, then cry some more. Oh, but he wakes up despite my silent pleas for him not to and he starts screaming before his eyes are even open. “So what?” you’re probably asking. “Babies cry, deal with it.” Well let’s talk about what a newborn does to your relationship.

Babies ruin your sex life, and not because you have to wait approximately six weeks before you get any action. Babies don’t ruin your sex life by making you tired, which they will–don’t get me started on sleep deprevation. No, babies ruin your sex life because the mother is so terrified of having another “bundle of joy” that they don’t want you within ten feet of them. “Can I get a hug?” I ask. And her reply is, “No! Hugging leads to other stuff.” Needless to say, romance is officially dead. So what? I can deal with being a born again virgin. No problem. What is a problem is the fights that come about.

My girlfriend and I never fought before, but so far we’ve had a couple of arguments and they all begin with discussions about the baby. Is it just me, or does having children bring out the craziness in women. In the beginning, my lady was a lot like Frodo carrying around the ring of power. I was poor Sam. I would go to my girlfriend and say, “Let me help you carry the burden. I can help with the baby.” She would reply, “No, stay away! My precious!” That was in the beginning. Now she drops the baby into my lap and takes off into another room. It’s like we’re playing a game of tag. “Here’s the baby! You’re IT!”

Sad, I know, but that’s not even the worst part because I haven’t gotten to the fights yet. Our altercations arise when we disagree on how to raise Benjamin. My parenting technique is different from hers. She’s all lovey dovey, I bring the tough love. She hates it, but I get results. And when I have suggestions, my girlfriend vetoes me by saying, “I carried him nine months! That makes him seventy percent mine!” REALLY! I haven’t read that in any of the parenting magazines. So, I get angry, she gets angry, then we go to separate areas of the house and play the silent game. It is in these moments that I realize why parents always encourage their children to get married when they have a child. They know that if a man discovers how crazy a woman gets when she has a baby, then he’s putting on his running shoes if he isn’t strong enough to handle the madness. Marriage truly is a ball and chain, holding the man in place.

Being a parent is not all fun and games. Would I do anything different? No. Would I wait to have a child? No. Do I want more? Most definitely. However, I will quickly tell you that having a child is not the for the weak at heart. These are the confessions of a first time father.