What were they thinking?!

What a simple joy it is to listen to Lydia independently play. She has reached a stage where her imagination and speech have blended and I get a front-row seat to reenactments of all of her experiences.

Lydia loves to play “House.” She carries her babies around with her, pretending to feed them. At times if I am not paying attention she may even try to give them a bath. I have to keep a keen eye, though. To a little girl, a toilet bowl looks way too similar to a bath tub.

The interesting thing is that without any prompting from me, air max 90 femmes the toys, games and imaginative play she uses are a display of instinctive nurturing and child-rearing skills. It’s as though she is pre-programed to care for little ones.

As a boy I didn’t play any of the same types of games. Pushing cars around in a sand box and building Lincoln Log houses was my routine.

When we first decided to have a child, we didn’t plan on having me home to raise her. I thought I would be the main breadwinner, but the economy and my wife’s work success changed that.

So I found myself — with almost no life experience — being handed a baby to care for. I would have been less nervous if they had handed me an un-pinned grenade.

To make matters harder, there seemed to be no single way to parent. Rather, there were lots of theories. And nobody told me about the weeks when she would be teething. (I like to refer to those as “hell weeks.”) I had to learn to be a caregiver after a lifetime of playing Legos, sports and working in the professional world. It was a big change and it took a lot of work to get myself caught up.

Then one day my biggest fear became real. I was alone with Lydia and she started to choke.

Without a thought I grabbed her and I perfectly followed, step-by-step, the recommended procedure to clear her throat. Within seconds she was back to normal. When I had a moment to think, roshe run nm br I realized that when I saw my baby in trouble, something inside of me took over. That natural child-rearing was in me after all.

In the end, everything really can work out fine, even though we men like to see things in black and white before taking action. Sometimes, in business as well as parenting, you simply have to have faith that things will work even when you don’t have all the information to prove it.

The Singing Fool

I am a world-class bad singer. Any accurate note I hit is accidental. My rhythm isn’t bad and my sense of timing is nearly impeccable, but my singing voice sounds like a palm rubbing against a wet chalkboard, though more pitchy. I could probably, with just a little effort, become the first professional non-singer — I could surely get listeners to pay me to just be quiet.

However, one person in this world loves to hear me croon a tune. That person is, naturally, my 4-month-old daughter Maggie.

In defense of Maggie’s taste, please remember that air jordan 10 she doesn’t have a significant baseline to place me on. I am, really, only the second best singer she’s ever heard live. (Her mom, a former professional musical-theatre actress, would win a vocal competition against a choir of angels.)

So I embrace this time when my baby is so young and so inexperienced, before she roams the world to hear the seven billion voices better than mine. Right now, my singing can instantly make her smile or giggle or lull her to sleep.

I find this a valuable resource at least a few times a day. I first began singing to Maggie when changing her diaper, a hygiene experience she hated in her first weeks of life. The songs were my way of distracting her a bit from her disdain of nakedness (a preference I hoped she’d hold onto throughout her teenage years).

Then the singing became a way to soothe her in the cranky moments before sleep. Like many babies, Maggie gets upset about growing tired, and she’d rather cry for half an hour than close her eyes. Though she’s normally collected and cool, when tired, she can wail with the noisiest newborns. She’s a high-soprano crier, which can make it hard for me to focus on work — or hard to focus on anything at all.

But if I sing a song or two, she smiles, quiets, puts her head on my shoulder, and drifts to dreamland. “Wonderful World” and John Denver’s “All of My Memories” are surefire inducers of calm, as is her free run 4.0 v3 femmes newfound favorite relaxant, Journey’s “Open Arms.”

The benefit for me is that I can get back to work faster, and get back to tranquility for a little while, too. All I have to do is take a ten-minute break and stretch my crackly vocal chords.

But don’t let my work face fool you — the benefits stretch much further than that.