Fatherly decisions
My entire outlook on life has changed since becoming a father. I must not only look out for the interests of my infant daughter, but also for my wife and myself, lest we fall into the cliches of parenthood. We haven’t ordered anyone to wash their hands before holding Tzofia yet so I think we’ve done a good job thus far.
As I lay down to go to sleep ideas jump into my mind. Rules of the household. I will share these with you as I continue on this wonderful journey of fatherhood.
As far as our family is concerned there is no Barney. He will be a non-entity in our household. There is no Barney.I will never lie to my daughter. Except if she inquires about the military prison down the road. I will tell her it is a “clown factory.”
“Onesie” is a word I can do without. I had never heard it before I entered Babyworld. Sounds like a word Rachel Ray would give to a disposable kitchen item. “It’s a onesie! Get it? Because you use it one time!” It is forbidden to use the word “onesie” in our home. These outfits are referred to as “uniforms” or “costumes.”
In my room…
Tzofia’s favorite song is “In My Room” by the Beach Boys. It’s the only song that truly comforts her when she gets “all baby and shit.” On one hand she should be praised for an early appreciation of Brian Wilson’s emotional candor, gift of creating perfect melodies and writing complex harmonies. On the other hand perhaps I should be a bit worried that her favorite song is about the merits of Agoraphobia…
Brooklyn Abroad
Photographers Andrea Robbins and Max Becher documented every worldwide facsimile of 770 Eastern Parkway, Lubavitch main headquarters. I knew of at least two duplicates that exist in Kfar Chabad outside of Tel Aviv as well as Ramat Shlomo in Jerusalem, but Milan and San Paulo? Who knew?
While you are at their site take a look at the fascinating photo essay on the Lubavitch of Postville, Iowa.
(via kottke)
Martinis forbidden, quiet Mod girls allowed
After seeing this Boing Boing post I dug up this photo from a trip I took to the Mount of Beatitudes on the sea of Galilee last year.
One month later…
The Wrath of the Bath
According to the child rearing bible, “What to Expect the First Year” also known as “How to scare the shit out of a parent in 30 pages or less,” the bath time should be “calm,” “soothing,” “quiet” and “comforting.” Although she appeared to enjoy her first baths, tonight’s bath was beyond disastrous. I would even venture to call it a debacle.
I’ll recap as best as I can.
Harry: I’m filling the baby tub!Ziva: Let me know when it’s ready so I can get her undressed!
Tzofia: WAAAAAAAAAA!
Harry: Shit! Flood! Where is the bath plug?
Ziva: I don’t know, the water is leaking into the cabinets!!!!
Harry: Oh, here it is. Damn, we are running out of hot water! Hurry!
Ziva: I have to get her undressed! Where is her towel?
Harry: It got soaked in the flood!
Ziva: Oh No! Here we come!
During previous baths we have used a medicated soap that does not need to be washed off. Unbeknown to Ziva, Harry used a new soap that does indeed need to be washed off.
Tzofia: WAAAAAAAAAA……hehehehehehehe (as the warm water washes over her)
Ziva: Let’s just get this done quick.
Harry: Ok, we just have to rinse her off.
Ziva: What do you mean? The soap can just stay on!
Harry: Shit. I didn’t tell you I used the other soap?
Ziva: The water is getting cold!
Harry: Hurry!
Ziva: WAAAAAAAAAAA!!!
Harry: WAAAAAAAAAAA!!!
Tzofia: What the f*ck?
Time flies…
It’s hard to believe that it’s already been three weeks since Tzofia was born. It’s remarkable how quickly she is changing. She’s becoming more aware of everything around her and just yesterday I noticed her poo had more of a brown hue to it than a yellow one. Is that a gentleman caller at the door?
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