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Wrestling a 7 Month Old: A Stay-at-Home Dad Update


Since it’s been a while since my last blog entry, I figured I can best describe how things are going by explaining how I put my lovely 7 month old to sleep. Somehow our genes combined in a way to give my youngest daughter “Hulk” strength. She’s cute, she’s beautiful, she’s smart…but she has the strength of 5 pro football linebackers.

For a literal example, I will describe how I put her to sleep a few minutes ago. I knew she was tired because of how she cried with anything and everything.  So I pick her up. I grab a blanket. Then get the pacifier. I lay her across my arms and try to put her to sleep.  Of course I’m standing and walking since she doesn’t like you to be stationary OR sitting while she is going to sleep (one of the reasons I have a bad knee now…freaking kids). As she closes her eyes she jerks her body as if she is trying to get out of a wrestling hold. Now I know what you’re thinking, “you seem like a strong (handsome) manly type, you should be able to hold her still”. Unfortunately I’m not as strong as you would think. Again she has Hulk strength. So I have to move with her and hold her as steady as I can without hurting her.  When she seems comfortable she jerks wildly again…signaling the fight is not over. So I continue to walk and wrestle with her. It’s a dance really; moving every way she does. The only two goals are…don’t let her fall…get her to sleep. I WOULD just put her in her bed but she would cry and not sleep, so that’s not an option. So the fight/dance continues. Most of the time she ends up tired enough that she finally knocks out. When she has finally submitted to her sleep, I take her to her crib. I lay her down comfortably. I even tuck in the blanket around her. When I go to leave, my oldest (2 years old) runs in and yells “Super Why!!!” The baby wakes up and we start the whole process again.

So that pretty much describes how life is for me these days. I drink a lot more coffee. I sleep a lot less. I put things in weird places (I just tried to put the gallon of milk in the cabinet). My body feels like I was repeatedly beat up at night…which is sometimes the case (ie. Hulk baby). And I spend a lot of time trying to maintain a sane mind. I get about 20 minutes to myself a day, if I’m lucky.

On a positive note, my kids do things that are increasingly cute. My oldest will say “excuse me” when she burps or drops something. The baby will crack up and smile when Mommy is home…mostly because she is tired of me. My oldest repeats everything and loves singing to Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. So the good weighs out the bad…most of the time.

So if you’re wondering why I don’t write as much it’s because they don’t let me. While writing this I had to fight off my oldest twice and now the baby woke up….that’s the life. Crappy and joy-filled.


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