Thursday, February 28, 2008

News From Christopher Briscoe



This just in from Christopher Briscoe, the photographer for The Baby Bonding Book for Dads: "I am in Cambodia for another week. It has been amazing here, shooting in refugee camps, families in a city dump, a city jail ... all the while taking with me a battery operated photo printer and making portraits of the villagers. Huge success!"

These photos of Chris's (the first one of a garbage dump in Mae Scot, Thailand and the second, "Looking for Daddy," of Burmese Refugees) remind us that some children can't bond with their fathers because political, social, or economic strife keeps them apart.

Compulsive Motherhood

An ABC news story about Angelina Jolie, who is apparently expecting her 5th child, claims that "compulsive motherhood" can be a sign of depression or manipulation. The 32-year-old actress who is in a relationship with Brad Pitt has adopted 3 children and birthed one of her own.

More tabloid gossip than news, the article outs Mother Teresa as depressive and all but dismisses charitable work as something only psychologically empty people engage in. Ms. Jolie's crime? Adopting three children from three different countries and giving them a loving home, economic prosperity, and a happy childhood.

If compulsive motherhood or fatherhood means caring for neglected children, would we all become as compulsive as Angelina Jolie.

Here's an excerpt from one of the comments on the story from a writer friend of ours, Meagan Francis:

"...focusing solely on "finding ourselves" throughout our entire lives creates selfish, self-centered and boring people. Human beings create relationships because without relationships, life IS empty. Not everybody has kids, and that's fine. Some people form friendships, they get a dog, a partner. And some--gasp!--have and enjoy children, sometimes even more than one or two! Finding fulfillment in motherhood doesn't mean you're competitive, compulsive, twisted, avoiding life, trying to re-define yourself, seeking attention, mentally ill, or any of the above. For most of us, it simply means you like children, and want a house full of them."

--Meagan Francis, Author "Table for Eight: Raising a Large Family in a Small-Family World" (Alpha/Penguin, 2007) www.largerfamilies.com

Monday, February 25, 2008

Read the book's preface!

Some visitors were complaining that they couldn't see the whole book cover, so here it is again. The right side gets cut off on smaller screens.

The subtitle of the book is "Building a Closer Connection with Your Baby," and that's what we hope the book will help dads do: feel closer and more connected to the little people in their lives.  If you're interested, you can read the preface here:

My dad used to sit on the bathroom counter while he shaved and brushed his teeth, finished dressing, and tied his tie.  I did the same with my toddler.  It would be before dawn and very quiet, and I would set our daughter on the side of the sink while I shaved, talking quietly to her.

Something about being alone together, trying made it exciting and special for her. It didn’t matter that I was busily getting ready; she was glad to come along, and even the sense of purpose was fun for her, just as she still likes to come on the most boring and mundane errands—to the post office, the DMV, even the dentist. When my daughter accompanies me, she doesn’t act bored and impatient. The outing becomes more like an occasion, and I enjoy it more too.

One day, at the sink, she insisted on shaving me. She was just three. If not for the fact that I remember sitting on the sink to watch my dad shave, I wouldn’t even have considered putting a razor into my toddler’s hand and letting her at my throat. I showed her the motion (down, pick up, down—never sideways!—and don’t press hard) and guided her hand through it a couple times. I told her how my grandfather, each morning before he went to elementary school, had gone upstairs to his own grandfather’s room with a straight razor, soap, and brush, to shave him after he had gone blind in his old age. She looked totally absorbed by this, and held her hand steady, so I positioned her hand at the top of my cheek and let her try a stroke. She carefully removed a stripe of shaving cream from my cheek, without trimming a single whisker. We worked on the pressure a bit, and she did most of the flat, easy parts of my cheeks.

My daughter was very proud to have been allowed this responsibility, and to have done something to care for me the way I normally took care of her. It was a bonding moment, which she has asked to repeat every few months since, and which I’ve carried on with her two younger siblings as they reached that age—without a single scratch.

Most men are like I was before my first child, having never even held a baby in our lives and with little or no experience taking care of kids. Of course we feel apprehensive about bonding and unsure how to interact with our offspring. I knew, though, that if I let my apprehension put me in the back seat in parenting, I would be taking a step back from one of the most important experiences of my life. I needed to take the initiative and create my own ways to bond with my child, right from the beginning.

It’s hard to engage after work when you’re tired and stressed, and part of the choice facing fathers is whether to play it safe, stay in that work mode and be very hands-off at home, or to engage with our children, something for which we’ve had no practice, and makes us feel unsure of ourselves.

Bonding with a baby or small child is about the small moments that you spend together, looking at each other, talking, taking walks. It’s not something that happens instantly. It’s a relationship that grows over time. That’s what this book is about: practical, everyday things to do to enjoy being with your children and forge the bond for both of you.

A lot of dads feel closer to older children, the ones who can catch a ball and enjoy a slice of pizza. But the bonding process starts in infancy, in hundreds of small ways. That's where we'll start—we'll get to ball and pizza later.

Saturday, February 23, 2008

Babies of Teen Dads at Risk for Birth Problems

A study published in the journal Human Reproduction reports that babies of teenage fathers (ages 19 and younger) are at higher risk of having problems at birth than babies born to older dads.

According to a Reuters 2/6/2008 article about the study published on the Scientific American Web site, these babies are:

--15% more likely to be born premature

--13% more likely to have a low birthrate

--13% more likely to have a low Apgar score

--22% higher risk to die in the first 4 weeks after birth

--41% higher risk to die after the first 4 weeks and before the first birthday

Wednesday, February 20, 2008

The castle of my 4-year-old

My son delights in collecting things from around the house--things that are not his, such as his sisters' candy, my tools, rolls of toilet paper--and stashing them in small nests he has hidden around the house, then hiding there himself to spend hours perusing his loot. After the latest clean-out, which included some family heirlooms, packing peanuts, dried mango strips, and about $30 worth of pesos, I told him we were going to build him his own hideout, and he would get to keep his stash in there, but only there, keeping his clutter away from the rest of the house.

This involved a drive to the cardboard recycling dumpster in front of the nearest appliance store, to which he clung with a maniacal grin, peering in at me swimming through giant refrigerator, stove and washer boxes. I found several prospects, though the deeper I dug, the heavier the cardboard above me got, until I was lifting several feet of ultra-heavy board-stock with my back, while trying to extricate washer & dryer boxes on which I was standing. That's when I noticed the rain starting somewhere above my cardboard burrow. I frantically dug out the last boxes, threw them on the car, and piled three more on top to keep the rain off the good ones. We tied them on and took the surface streets home.

The washer & dryer boxes were perfect, and more than enough, so I moved several hundred square feet of excess cardboard out to the porch, and got to work. We taped them back up to shape, arranged them next to each other in the corner, and then pulled out one so that it was edge-to-edge with the other, leaving a space right in the corner it had just vacated, exactly the size of another box. This I called the courtyard, and he approved it over the other designs. The touching edges got taped together, to secure the courtyard against invaders, and we cut a little hobbit door into one box for an entrance to the compound. A little round hobbit window on the side where the natural light and the lamp can illuminate the interior (he wanted it wired for electric lighting, but combining electricity, cardboard, and someone with poor bladder control seemed like a non-starter to me). Another door leads into the interior courtyard, from where the only door to the second box makes that one rather isolated from the outside (and from anyone larger than a hobbit). He is beside himself over this new domicile, which is tall enough for him--and only him--to stand inside.

And I spent money on Christmas presents?

What if You're Jealous of the Baby?

One mom we know was married to a man who couldn't stand watching her take care of their newborn son. It made him seethe with jealousy and he would act like a neglected child and compete for his wife's attention.

After the birth of their second son, that couple divorced. The husband remarried twice more and had three more kids. He became a more involved, less jealous father with the help of his third wife (who was 15 years younger but a lot wiser than him) but he always resented paying child support to the wife of his first two children.

What's the moral of this story? Maybe that it's important to work out your demons before you have children so you can act like a man, not a baby, once they're born.

Tuesday, February 19, 2008

Great Dads and Choreplay

Greatdads.com, a Web site we really like that's devoted to fathering and has lots of good information on it (in fact, we like it so much we are talking to Paul about becoming contributing writers over there), blogged today about dads and baby bonding. You can read it here.

On February 12th The Atlanta Journal Constitution offered up advice for dads on how to get lucky with their wives. It's called CHOREPLAY. Forget the roses and firelight. Clean the sippy cups instead.

For the record, Heidi Raykell's husband in a chapter of Confessions of a Naughty Mommy: How I Found My Lost Libido (Seal Press), wrote about how doing dishes was great for his sex life long before Parenting coined the term "choreplay."