When it comes to music, I am a fairly avid metalhead. I am a drummer and skilled air guitarist. I even rocked a mullet with pride through my teen years and well into college. As hard rock is in my blood I assumed, like other genetic traits, my headbanging passion would be passed on to my children. 

When my wife and I found out we were having our first baby, I was thrilled with the notion of educating my child, girl or boy, in the artistry of classic “dad rock” legends like Eric Clapton, Neil Peart, and Pete Townsend. One of the greatest gifts I received as a father-to-be, was a set of CDs that set classic rock songs to lullaby music. While I find something somewhat insidious about playing “Stairway to Heaven” set to the chimes of a lullaby for your sleepy infant, I was secure knowing it was the right thing to do. To complete this induction, after my first daughter was born, I went out and got the perfect complementary clothing: a Rush onesie. I think at one point we had a Black Sabbath outfit, too. All to pass on my love for this music to my daughter. 

Well, have you ever seen the movie This is 40? In one scene, the father (played by Paul Rudd) tries to “enhance” his daughters’ musical education. Dismissing the pop-style tween music that seems to dominate the music scene these days, he tries to introduce them to Alice in Chains. The early Alice in Chains. Steeped in brooding lyrics and heavy guitars. Specifically a song about a man trying to get home from the Vietnam War. That’s some hard-core dad rock. A tough sell for most people much less young girls. In his frustration, he comments crudely on how he wishes just one of them was a boy. 

I have two daughters now. I couldn’t have ever anticipated it, but there is something unbelievably sweet about having girls that I don’t find myself yearning for a boy as many dads do. A boy who would want to rock out would be fantastic, though. … (sigh)

A Rush to dad rock heaven

A good friend and fellow dad and I used to make an annual pilgrimage to see at least one Rush concert a year when they were touring. He has a son a few years older than my daughter and this kid loves Rush. He has his favorite songs, sings along, the whole deal. When we used to go to see Rush, we’d see many dads with their sons and daughters. It was a wholesome show of great music, lasers and video. Completely family-friendly. It has been a dream of mine to someday take my daughters, when they are old enough to enjoy it, to a concert of one of my favorite bands from my youth. Of course, I fear the advancing ages of those bands may prevent it, but my bigger fear is that they simply won’t want to go. 

When my eldest daughter was around 18 months, I would play many of my favorite songs for her and dance around the living room to try and get her excited by it. She would placate me for a few minutes before exclaiming, “Daddy, I don’t like this sound.  Turn it off.” Every time, deflated, I would capitulate. I would tell myself, ”Well, Rush (or whatever band it was) is an acquired taste. Progressive and grunge is a tough sell. I should start with Journey or The Eagles. You know, old-school dad rock.”

Two years later, I have not had much luck. Not for a lack of trying, though.

It’s got a backbeat you can’t lose it

I came home from work last week to find my eldest daughter, now almost 4, and my wife bouncing around the apartment, elated to be singing “Call Me Maybe” by Carly Rae Jepson. My daughter had an enormous grin on her face, laughing so hard she could barely sing and dance. “Again mommy,” she screamed over and over again. 

She now sings the song herself on command for anyone who will listen. A tiny little piece of me cringes on the inside every time I hear it. Yes, it’s adorable and she is so full of life when she sings it and I love to hear her do it, but a part of me cringes. Every time. 

The other day, my youngest daughter (9 months old) was in a teething crying fit that I could not resolve. My wife and other daughter were out. I fired up some random tunes to try and soothe her. 

The raw heavy guitars of Blue Oyster Cult came on.

And, to my complete surprise, she just stopped dead in her tracks. She looked at me and smiled. 

I sang the song to her and she laughed. This went on for a good 20 minutes. Cities on Flame with Rock and Roll indeed. 

It never ceases to amaze me the personalities that our kids have from birth. My girls are still quite young and I won’t ever give up on their musical education. In the end they both have a deep love for music. Whether its Pink Floyd or Taylor Swift, I suppose it’s that deep love of music that I need for them. If they love their music as much as I love mine, I guess I did OK.

This article originally ran in 2013, and has been since updated. Dad rock photo by Alena Darmel via Pexels.

Editor’s Note: We’re digging into our ample archives to find some great articles you might have missed over the years. This one about broken friendships comes from 2016.

To excited first-time parents-to-be, I would offer encouragement and well wishes, but a bit of sobering advice as well: Be prepared to lose some friends. Most experienced parents know of this phenomenon of broken friendships. I think this effect is felt even more acutely by gay parents.

Fact: I have lost more friends becoming a gay parent than I have coming out as gay in the first place.

I have always been a bit of a nerd. In grade school, I wasn’t a popular kid, but I mingled with a group of similarly studious friends. Two of my best friends, “Rich” and “Nick” remained tight with me even after we all went to different colleges. When I came out of the closet in college, I was pleased both were accepting of me and remained close friends well into adulthood.

Rich and Nick were in turn friendly when I introduced them to my partner, Josh. Even though the three of us lived in different places, when we visited we would all hang out together like old times. Nick would share his girlfriend problems. Rich invited Josh and me to celebrate his engagement and his wedding to his wife. It was around this time that Josh and I started talking about having children in earnest.

Just like Rich and Nick shared their major life events with us, Josh and I were excited to share about this endeavor with them. Rich was clearly in a happy place in his life and was happy for us when we shared the news. I remember calling Nick to giddily tell him how Josh and I were going to California to look into gestational surrogacy.

My heart sank when he responded by saying, “Why are you telling me this?”

Change in status, change in attitude

It became clear Nick did not understand why we would ever want to have children. He was not particularly happy for us. I ended the rapidly deteriorating conversation and hung up before it became an argument.

We exchanged superficial pleasantries at Rich’s wedding, and then we did not speak for about two years. Around the time that we were planning our children’s first birthday party, I received an email from Nick. He asked, “Whatever happened between us?” As if he was oblivious to how my feelings were deeply hurt.

I responded angrily. He knew very well what happened.

Nick responded, stating openly what I knew to be the truth all along: He disagreed with two men raising children. He thought it would adversely affect children to be raised in a non-traditional household.

In retrospect, I believe Nick was fine with the novelty of having gay friends who hung out in gay bars doing stereotypically gay things. However, as soon as his gay friends decided to be real people and live their lives outside of a socially acceptable second-class box, he became disapproving.

After our children were born, many good friends, most of them gay, faded away more slowly. In our first few years living in Florida, Josh and I had amassed a large group of gay friends. Most had no interest in having children, but they were all happy for us when we announced we were expecting.

After AJ and JJ were born, I appreciated that these friends continued to invite us to events. Because we were busy with twin babies, though, we would either pass or send one of us out to have fun while the other stayed with the kids. Inevitably, the invitations became fewer and far between. More broken friendships, but unlike with Nick, no hard feelings were involved, so I don’t fault these friends in the slightest. Our unusual situation as gay guys with kids just didn’t fit into their social calendars neatly. That’s OK.

Losing so many friends over the years both gay and straight, either suddenly or slowly over the years, I have only a touch of sadness. In place of these friends, I have a large beautiful family.  These four children bring me unlimited and enduring joy and fulfillment.

About the author

David Hu, left, is a proud father of multiple multiples. He and his partner twice went through the gestational surrogacy process, creating a family with two sets of twins. This post was originally published on David’s blog, Rock And Ledge, and on City Dads Group via our partnership with The Handsome Father. Main photo: © ROBERT/ Adobe Stock.

When you search the term “best parenting podcasts,” one thing sticks outs immediately: the resulting lists of shows are overwhelmingly aimed at moms. Well, there’s another half to the parenting equation. Here’s a list of some of the best parenting podcasts where fathers figure prominently in the mix.

The Art of Fatherhood

Art Eddy knows dad podcasts. He’s produced or hosted them for the Life of Dad social network for years. His baby these days is the Art of Fatherhood. He interviews dads from the worlds of entertainment, music and sports about their latest projects and … being a dad, duh! Recent guests have included former MLB pitcher (and father of a certain two-time Super Bowl MVP) Pat Mahomes, actor Paul Dooley, and comedian Tom Papa.

Black Fathers, NOW!

City Dads Group contributor Mike Dorsey is an author, business entrepreneur, community organizer, speaker and — yes — podcaster. Dorsey aims to redefine and uplift the image of African American dads through inspiring discussions with engaged black fathers.

Dad, Can We Talk?

Creator Anthony Ray started this podcast to combat the negative stereotypes about black dads. Dad, Can We Talk? features black fathers with diverse backgrounds who share their journeys to provide, nurture and love their families in the face of today’s challenges for men — especially men of color. Ray chats with father friends, a few celebs (including actor Taye Diggs) and even brings his two sons for a heart-to-heart.

The Dad Central Show

Dad Central is a Canadian nonprofit organization working with the Peterborough Child & Family Centres in Ontario. In business for two decades, it bills itself as the “most trusted name in fatherhood in Canada” with the goal of helping dads so they can “improve the lives of children.” Their parenting podcasts feature candid conversations with fatherhood role models, topical experts and real dads to inspire and assist others in this worthy pursuit. (Note: A recent one featured Amar Lohana, founder of our Toronto Dads Group.

Dad House

City Dads Group contributor Shannon Carpenter, who also is a co-organizer of our Kansas City Dads Group, and four of his at-home father friends yuck it up on any and everything. They also bring on friends and experts to add to discussions on topics such as your child’s first cell phone, the life of a rural father and where to go to check out the local craft beer scene.

Dad Mind Matters

Host James Macdonald, a father of three, subtitles his podcast “Parenting, Marriage & Mental Health For Men.” Dad Mind Matters focus on topics appealing to first-time and new dads who may be feeling the stress of parenting, in terms of raising a child and keeping their lives together. His parenting podcasts, often less than 15 minutes in length, offer concrete suggestions on subjects such as how to handle toddler tantrums, or passive-aggressive partners, and improving your mental state.

Dads with Daughters

OG dad blogger Christopher Lewis, a co-founder of the nonprofit Fathering Together, interviews experts on topics that will help you raise a strong independent woman. The podcast aims to highlight promising practices that will help fathers better understand themselves as well as their daughters while encouraging dads to be active participants in their daughters’ lives.

First Class Fatherhood

Host Alec Lace interviews high-profile fathers — from NFL stars to UFC fighters to Navy SEALs — about their careers and how they play into their most important work as dads. Dads.

Home Dad Chat

This fatherhood podcast from The National At-Home Dad Network, co-hosted by Cincinnati Dads Group organizer Brock Lusch, covers a wide range, of topics facing fathers today. One podcast will cover the ongoing fight for paid family leave and the new “Dad Caucus” in Congress while another will look at the debate about children attending drag story hours, all with a personal touch. Home Dad Chat also draws from audio from the At-Home Dad Network’s exclusive webinars and its HomeDadCon conference speakers to add weight to the discussions.

Best parenting podcasts for dads photo: © DC Studio / Adobe Stock.

Editor’s Note: Mental health issues are among the many things most people, men in particular, are reluctant to discuss. Former Boston Dads Group co-organizer James Mahaffey has no such fear. In this 2013 post from our archives, he writes frankly about the male postpartum depression he experienced following the birth of his daughter.

Once, possibly twice, during my first three months of parenthood, I found myself huddled in my home office, secretly and somewhat reluctantly shedding a tear in the dark. A very dignified and manly tear, that is. The kind that wells up and glosses over just the bottom half of the eye before stoically leaping like a cliff diver descending in a super quick, unquestionably deliberate, straight line down the cheek, never to be seen again.

This tear was brought on by a combination of things.

My newborn’s constant piercing screams.

The unexpected disagreements with her mother on what to do during those times.

My guilt for the occasional “bad” thought many parents have felt at some time but rarely admit.

I remember wondering if I was “depressed a little.” I had been feeling this way for longer than I cared to admit. It was a feeling I couldn’t seem to shake.

And, as a man, I didn’t necessarily know what to do except secretly cry in the dark.

It wasn’t until we were at the first post-birth checkup that I even thought about my manly tear incident again. Typically at this appointment, women fill out the Edinburgh Depression Scale to find out if they are experiencing “signs or symptoms associated with postpartum depression.” After reading the questions I started uncomfortably laughing. I began to feel like someone should be asking me the same questions.

I didn’t carry or give birth to a 7-pound human being. However, I have been there from day one and every day since our daughter was born. It’s not like the shrieks and cries of an inconsolable baby or the physically and emotionally draining late nights and resulting sleep deprivation were her mother’s to experience alone. I was up with her, helping out (and suffering just the same) as much as I could through all of those early tests of parenthood.

But maybe it wasn’t male postpartum depression I was experiencing. Maybe something else was going on inside of me. The first three months are one of those stages where I do believe certain mothers are better equipped than fathers to withstand the irritability of their newborn. CJ didn’t seem to be as emotionally affected as I was.

So when CJ was filling out the form, I made a column for myself next to her’s so I could also answer the questions. We went in and I, of course, made light of my little “cry for help” that manifested itself in the form of a drawn-in column on a post-partum questionnaire. She laughed a little, too. In fact, we all laughed and then we got back to focusing on CJ.

But should we have?

The issue is real. A 2010 study published in the Journal of the American Medical Association found that about 10 percent of fathers become depressed before or just after their baby is born. This is more than double the rate of depression in the general male population.

Men’s mental health is rarely discussed and is almost taboo in some scenarios. This is another reason why I grew a mustache in November to raise awareness and funds for the Movember movement. For two decades, the movement has raised funds and awareness to combat prostate and testicular cancer make people. In more recent years, Movember has added a special focus on mental health.

Please help others worse off than me. Raise awareness of paternal depression and keep an eye on your father friends, especially those with newborns. No dad needs to suffer in silence anymore.

About the author

After nearly being “shhh-ed” to death while his daughter napped, filmmaker James Mahaffey decided to vlog about his journey at “Becoming a Ninja: Freedom to Fatherhood,” where a version of this post originally appeared.

Male postpartum depression photo: © pololia / Adobe Stock.

The best thing my wife ever did for me after my son was born was nothing.

Let me explain.

Babies were a mystery to me when my son was born. Lamaze classes are great, but once you’re holding that squirming and peeing baby, everything goes out the window. The only thing I was confident doing when my son was born was changing diapers. I used to work with developmentally disabled adults and had changed thousands of diapers, so I had diapering down.

Everything else? Clueless.

Clueless, but fearless. I was completely confident that I was going to “get it.” And I was determined to do so.

My wife was equally confident I would be able to understand how to go about taking care of a baby. She would leave me alone with our new baby without worry.

Within days of our baby’s birth, I was alone with a crying little guy who I had no idea how to quiet. I walked around, danced, bobbed, did everything I could to help calm him, but time and again I failed. I tried to give him a bottle, but that also didn’t work. He was unhappy and I didn’t know how to hold him.

So there we were: two guys who didn’t know one another.

But my wife left us alone, and we figured it out.

My wife never yanked him from my arms and said, “Hold him this way.”

She never yelled, “You’re doing it wrong!”

She let me figure it out on my own.

My wife understands how I learn things. I’m like a lot of guys, I learn from being in the moment. I learn by doing things with my hands. Looking back, it must have been frustrating for her to watch the two of us struggle, but those struggles were important so that we could understand one another.

All too often I hear from new dads whose wives make them feel incompetent. This makes them not want to bond with the baby, let alone be unable to bond. Constantly fearing you’re doing it wrong and you’ll be scolded for doing so is not the way to start a parenting partnership. I don’t know if my wife consciously did this for me or if it was simply the result of being exhausted from delivering and breastfeeding.

Whatever the reason was, what she did was good for me.

A version of this first appeared on One Good Dad. Photo: Contributed by Greene Family.

Not long after I found out my wife was pregnant, I had a brief conversation with my dad about the excitement I felt in anticipation of becoming a father. One of the things we discussed was my approach to fatherhood.

Like all first-time dads, I had no idea what I was getting myself into. What helped me most was observing the parenting styles of my circle of “dad” friends. I related to them more than my dad because we were closer in age and had grown up together in life experiences like college, marriage and now kids.

Of course, I didn’t tell my father this. That could be a hard pill to swallow. What I did reveal to him was a simple, yet honest prediction. There would be things he did I would definitely try with my son, Emory; but there were many things I probably wouldn’t. He told me he understood, which honestly was somewhat surprising to me.

One of the many lessons that comes with age is realizing the parents you idolized growing up aren’t perfect. They aren’t superheroes. They’re human. Humans with flaws, emotions, insecurities, dreams and fears of their own, just like you and I. And while you fully understand they did the best they could, seeing them through the lens of your own adulthood, especially parenthood, is an eye-opening revelation.

It can be equally challenging to come into your own as a father while wrestling with some of the decisions your parents made for you when you were younger. For example, I often think back to how I was disciplined as a child. Getting a “spanking” was the norm for me when I acted up. And I can write with confidence that most people I knew growing up experienced the same. The concept of “timeout” was laughed at back then. It’s one of those things you don’t think much of until you grow up and become a parent yourself. Sure, that’s how it was done in your day, but you now know better ways of doing things.

So for me, I knew physical discipline was not something I wanted to do as a parent. As my son reaches the age where small tantrums are the norm and he realizes in his little brain that he can say “no” to me, I have to, as a father, practice the same patience I ask of him when he wants something right away. And I want him to be able to express himself and ask questions, knowing that I’m going to allow him to do so, while being firm in explaining how and why he was wrong.

It’s a weird dynamic, though. I’m not only seeing things through the lens of fatherhood now, but also very much relating to what it’s like to be a son. Those feelings, both positive and negative, are still fresh in my mind. As I navigate through my journey as a dad, knowing how many of those experiences growing up felt then and how they feel now, in hindsight, is enough. I understand I need to approach parenting differently in some ways than how I was reared.

And that’s not a bad thing. Just as we evolve in other areas in life, each generation should be able to evolve its parenting styles as well. We should allow space for growth. We should embrace differences of opinions, approaches and thoughts that contrast those of our parents and guardians. There’s freedom in doing things our way and feeling it is in the best interest of our kids. Just as our parents did.

Nobody’s perfect, though. Not even our parents. With each passing day I realize how hard it is to raise a human while balancing other life responsibilities. It allows me to look back fondly at my upbringing, despite what I feel could’ve been done differently. 

The irony in all this is that one day my son will be my age and probably have the same feelings toward me. I just hope that when that happens, he’ll know that I tried my best. Just like I know my own dad did.

Parenting styles photo: ©Prostock-studio / Adobe Stock.

It’s been said that the best way to learn a foreign language is to immerse yourself in the culture.

So two months into this fatherhood thing and I’ve fully immersed myself into this really screwed up world called the language of parenting.

Never before in my life have I spent so much damn time talking about poop. Not shit. Because, babies don’t do that. They “poop” or “go poopy.”

Newborns aren’t throwing up or vomiting … they are “spitting up.”

And my daughter doesn’t drool. Well, actually, apparently she does drool because, this is the term we choose to use as a crossover from both worlds. Either way, it’s still gross.

No. It is not fucking cute. It is still gross. No matter how many cute words we apply to excrement, it will always be shit. My baby shat herself last night and it was messy.

But I digress.

Along with the language of parenting comes this entirely new world of marketing to parents. It’s a scary, deceitful business, my friends. You will literally be smacked upside the head with every single marketing tactic in the playbook to try and lure you into this web of spending on utter bullshit.

From diaper wipe warmers to chairs that electronically swing themselves to apps that monitor your child’s bodily functions, there is something for everything and for everyone. For example, I can control the motion of my daughter’s nap chair from my iPhone and toss on some background tunes to the sound of rain while the seat rotates to mask the rhythm of an ocean wave. All while I chill out on the reclining “glider.” Note: It’s not a rocking chair … it’s a glider, because we have to add a crafty little marketing title so we can force you to pay another $200-300. Because, eff you.

In fact, as I write this post, I’m looking across the room at my daughter as she rotates on her MamaRoo chair. The best part? She’s totally not entertained by the actual built-in mobile that hangs over her head while she rocks. She’s more interested in her hands that she recently started to discover.

And that is actually the dirty little secret: the babies don’t know any better and don’t need all of that technology to have a good time.

My in-laws came to visit recently and were stunned at all the gadgets and stuff we have furnished in our teeny-tiny little closet-sized apartment here in Manhattan. Matter of fact, until about a week ago, my daughter hated everything anyway.

We’ve got a specially designed floor mat with a hanging decoration (ugh, “mobile”) and built-in walls that entrap your tot like a felon at Clinton Max. It’s all adorned in colors and cute animals, so you know … it’s not really like a prison. It’s cute. But not at first to my daughter. It might as well have actually been the clink.

Same with that damn MamaRoo. We tried that bad boy on day one from the hospital. It took a daily dedication and vigilance for us to finally get the offspring to enjoy that thing … six weeks later.

Meanwhile a few notes on this contraption: First off – screw that name, because you know, dads apparently don’t give a shit if the baby is chillin’. Second – how someone hasn’t made this thing in an adult version for grown-ass men is a total fail. Imagine watching football while sitting in this rocking chair, errr — glider, on steroids? I’m looking at you, Apple. Make up for the iWatch.

Here’s the big takeaway: avoid the marketing hype. For my first-time fathers out there, you are going to run into a million and one baby books and friends and family members and coworkers and advertisements and social media posts and all sorts of crap in between begging you and pulling at you and imploring you to buy [blank] because “your baby will love it” or because “you NEED this to survive parenting.” False.

Stay strong, my friends.

You do need some very basic things to get by; because how the hell do you think your child will be able to survive without a diaper wipe warmer, bro? (Editor’s note: His two kids did.) But, don’t be that dude that loads up on product after product because it looks shiny. Your kid won’t know the difference. You’ll just clutter up your house. And you could actually probably end up saving money in the long run.

A version of this first appeared on Daddy Mind Tricks.

When your 15-year-old is on spring break with another family for a week, the last click-bait you want to see on your phone is “Tornado Watch from Florida to South Carolina.”

What are the odds, I fretted, as my thumbs speed-texted “U ok? Just heard about tornado watch for sarasota?”

My daughter replied like King Kong casually batting away a helicopter parent: “yeah we r good.”

Despite her nonchalance, shortly after her return home she admitted that my message had, in fact, alerted them to a coming storm, much to her amazement. Begrudgingly, she gave me credit for helping them take shelter as the rain and wind passed. In other words, I had been right.

My moment of sublime triumph, however, did not last long. For I realized that finally, after 18 years of parenting my two daughters and trying not to become my own parents, it was official: I had become my mother. I can explain.

Have you ever seen television news anchors with imperfect hair and no make-up? I hadn’t either until five days after my firstborn’s arrival in Toledo, Ohio, in 2000. My wife and I were sitting on our couch watching a movie while she breastfed the baby. Our finished basement had few windows so we heard little noise from the outside. Midway through the movie, my worrisome mother called from New York. She had just seen on The Weather Channel that Toledo was in the path of a tornado. Because she tended to exaggerate threats and our room was quiet, I didn’t bother to check outside.

Minutes later, a siren penetrated our domestic bliss.

We turned off the movie, checked a television station in this age before cell phones, and saw a shocking image: the local news anchors were struggling to keep their composure as they urged viewers to find safe cover. Immediately! There was a tornado in the area, and one of the anchors actually yelled, “If you’re in a car right now, stop, get out, and jump into a ditch!”

I dashed upstairs. The sky was sea-green, trees were near horizontal, and windows rattled in their frames. (Insert “Holy Toledo!” wherever you see fit.)

I’m not proud of what happened next, but hey, I was a brand new dad

I ran back downstairs, informed my wife, and began brainstorming ways to keep our family safe. After frantically gathering flashlights, candles, and matches, I kept visualizing our brick house raining down on our heads as we stood in a doorway (as the frazzled anchors recommended). So my mind kept thinking “helmet.” All I could find were bicycle helmets, which I brought to the couch as my wife rolled her eyes.

For the record, I must emphasize that at no point did anyone actually put on a helmet.

Regarding the baby, I visualized holding her under my body to shield her from debris, but that was not enough for my addled, panicking brain. It seemed perfectly logical that she would be most protected, if necessary, by lying underneath a turkey pan that I found. Again, an eye roll from my wife, this time more dramatic.

Also for the record, the baby was never actually put under the turkey pan.

Feeling prepared, I sat back down to watch the news. Suddenly our landline rang. I expected my mother again, but it was an old friend calling from Las Vegas. (What are the odds?) He wanted to catch up on a few years’ worth of family doings. I could only issue a tornado-laden excuse and promise to call him back.

Fortunately, the tornado touched down a few blocks away and no one was injured. Our oblivious daughter nursed throughout the evening. While I don’t remember what movie we were watching that night, the tornado experience (and now my daughter’s tornado encore) brought home the wisdom of an old saying: even in adulthood, you should always listen to your mother (or father).

Photo on Foter.com

There has not been a U.S. president to not be a father since Warren Harding. So in honor of this presidential Election Day (and the possibility of having the first mother as president), here are some quotes from our most recent presidents about fatherhood.

“I think the most important priority for a dad is to be a dad. In my case, I might have been slightly self-absorbed at times, but when I became a dad, I only had one real job and that was to provide for these little girls. Was I always successful? I don’t know. They can be the witnesses.” — George W. Bush

“During the sole argument we had when [Chelsea] was in high school, the subject of which I don’t even remember, I looked at her and said, ‘As long as you’re in this house, being president is my second most important job’” — Bill Clinton

“I think back to the day I drove Michelle and a newborn Malia home from the hospital nearly 13 years ago—crawling along, miles under the speed limit, feeling the weight of my daughter’s future resting in my hands. I think about the pledge I made to her that day: that I would give her what I never had—that if I could be anything in life, I would be a good father. I knew that day that my own life wouldn’t count for much unless she had every opportunity in hers.” — Barack Obama

A version of this first ran on Great Moments in Bad Parenting.

DISCLOSURE: This post about bringing home baby is sponsored by Huggies^® and written by NYC Dads Group member Oliver Ellner.

We thought we had our act together. The doctors estimated our baby Isaac’s arrival date to be April 15 — a special day given that I’m an accountant. We planned for an earlier arrival in April, though, since the ultrasounds showed our little boy was going to be a big baby.

So we made the move to a larger apartment with a nursery (a “junior four” in New York-ease) on March 8, giving us plenty of time to settle in before baby arrived. My wife set up a registry with all the basics then she was overjoyed when she fell for her office’s surprise baby shower. Like a good husband, I ordered all the essentials from Amazon, carefully following the consumer ratings. The crib, the bassinet, the changing table and the stroller would arrive and be assembled in time. We had boxes and boxes of Huggies Little Snugglers Diapers and Huggies Natural Care Wipes ready to go to help keep our boy’s delicate skin clean and healthy. My wife, obsessed with all things animal, had animal artwork and a row of stuffed animals just waiting to welcome Isaac Mel to his new, cozy corner.

Well, you know what they say about “the best laid plans,” right?

My wife started showing signs of labor in mid-March. It all happened so fast — within three days of those signs, her water broke.

I didn’t really think it was possible since it felt like yesterday that we learned we were expecting. Our baby decided he’d had enough and was ready to enter the real world. The day was a big blur, but seeing my wife’s face in the delivery room as baby Isaac arrived made it all worth it. Holding him in my arms for the first time filled me with a joy I never knew I could feel.

Bringing home baby

That first week home was even more of a blur. You can read everything in parenting books, and solicit advice from the best of friends and family, but it’s really firsthand experience that makes parenting sink in.

Family and friends flurried in non-stop to support us and get some Isaac-time. Sleep was in short supply as we tried to make our little guy comfortable and content while I attacked the ongoing list of things to do and buy to keep up with his needs. Baby Isaac Mel was a beautiful gift, and according to everyone, a really well-behaved baby … but, we still had a LOT of learning to do. What did those cries mean? It was an educated guessing game, with the top two answers always coming in at “he’s wet and needs a diaper change” (the wetness indicator on Huggies Little Snugglers Diaper helped answer that question) or “he’s hungry.” I was on paternity leave the first week, so we split the feedings and diaper changes. I tried to give my wife a break whenever I could. I took over the late night feedings so she could get some rest.

Four months after bringing home baby Isaac, we feel like we’re in a groove.

Isaac is blossoming into a beautiful, happy little boy. I look forward to those daily calls at work to hear him babble and giggle, and I come home at night to watch him demonstrate his latest moves for me: rolling and early attempts at crawling. The weekends are special because we find places to take Isaac and introduce him to new things. He just went to his first baseball game and we’re planning a trip to the zoo. I relish in our bedtime routine as I get to read him stories about dinosaurs and noisy duckies as he drifts off to sleep.

Diaper changes are a happy, bonding time for Isaac. My wife sings as she points out the Winnie-the-Pooh characters on his Huggies Little Snugglers Diapers while he smiles, stares into her eyes and giggles to the lyrics. We always have Huggies Natural Care Wipes on hand — not only during diaper changes, but on his playtime activity mat (which takes up the whole floor) to clean up any of those things that come with being a baby because you know what they say – “spit up happens.”

Life is good. Isaac has made us very happy and every day with him is filled with smiles!

About our sponsor

Huggies^® believes deeply in the Power of Hugs. The simple, loving act is proven to support babies’ emotional and physiological well-being. Huggies^® diapers and wipes are inspired by a parent’s hug – to nurture baby with care, cradle baby in comfort and surround baby in protection. Make sure you embrace baby’s bottom with Huggies^® Little Snugglers Diapers to deliver our best skin care to help keep baby’s skin clean and healthy. Learn more at Huggies.com.  #HuggiesCouncil