You know when you’re innocently talking to a child and they open a whole new avenue from where you were planning on going with the conversation? I related it to America’s road system.

Sometimes it’s a simple cul-de-sac. The conversation goes round and round. Other times, it takes a “merging on to the highway” warp-speed jump from innocent to “hold me tightly, I need a moment.” This recent talk with one of my sons about where babies come from combines the two types of streets.

We were on a Georgia highway. My son was talking about some of his friends who were going to or had just returned from Walt Disney World. I reminded him he was there three years ago, but that carried very little street cred to a 5-year-old.

I tried steering the conversation another way.

“You know, Daddy used to work at Walt Disney World,” I said.

“Was Mommy a baby back then?”

For the record, I am older than my wife, but it is nowhere near that kind of age difference.

“No, that was before I met Mommy,” I said.

“Was I a baby then?”

“No …”

“Was Charlie a baby then?”

“No … he …”

“Daddy, where do babies come from,” said the 5-year-old who had just been talking about Mickey Mouse and Goofy.

“Well, when a mommy and daddy love each other very much they’ll have a baby. It’s important to have that because …,” I started to say before he cut me off.

“No, I mean how are they made?”

Is it time for the ‘birds and bees talk’ already?

Well, here is where our ever-expanding cul-de-sac of a conversation veered onto an on-ramp and started to rev up. My son is very detail-oriented, always wanting to know “why” and “how” things happen. I knew what he meant and thought for a moment about how to respond.

“It’s like chemistry,” I clumsily started. “Daddies have a special chemical that they combine with chemicals that mommies have — and that is what makes a baby.” As you can see, my initial foray into sex education went over swimmingly.

Right after I said that last word I knew it sounded odd and inauthentic. In my mind, I thought about telling him about how willies work with girls’ private parts, the pregnancy, doula, placenta, birth canal and epidural. But I was tired, driving and frustrated with myself for stumbling over the initial answer.

I need an off-ramp from this conversation and the closest thing was a golf range.

“Cool, check out that golf range,” I said.

“Daddy, we’ve seen that before. It’s right next to the video game place,” he said with all of the smarm and know-it-all-ness a 5-year-old could muster.

Then he went on to talk about something else.

That topic escapes me. I know that it wasn’t about reproduction. Since that trip, my wife and I have sorted out what he should call his private parts and we planned a basic overview of how to address the “where do babies come from” talk. I certainly didn’t expect to start this conversation when he was 5, though.

A friend of mine had their 6-year-old ask them what sodomy was. He was listening to the news and the child heard a new word he didn’t know. I guess my wife and I should prepare talking points for that possible query another time.

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A version of Where Babies Come From first appeared on Daddy Mojo and then on this blog in 2015. It has since been updated. Photo: ©New Africa / Adobe Stock.

This blog post is part of the #NoDadAlone campaign. Fathering Together/City Dads Group, the National At-Home Dad Network, and Fathers Eve are joining forces to amplify messages that help dads recognize we are not alone! Follow #NoDadAlone on Instagram, and learn more at NoDadAlone.com.

Our daughter was born two weeks late. I remember going into the hospital nursery and thinking she looked more developed than most of the babies. That’s when I concluded that this meant she would hit all her infant milestones and first-year benchmarks quicker than the rest.

I often think back on a story my dad told me from his childhood. My grandmother insisted that he was potty trained at 3 months old. When asked why, my grandmother said she would look in his crib, and, if his eyes were watery, she knew he had to go to the bathroom. A silly story, of course, but it only reveals to me how we convince ourselves how special our kids are for the “normal” things that they do.

But are children smarter because they talk earlier? Will they be more adventurous and dexterous because they walk earlier? Will they have a more developed and discerning palate if they eat earlier? If we read to them earlier will they read sooner? These questions can go on and on, but I can say that by pondering these issues too much we put undue pressure on both ourselves and on our daughter.

Infant milestones: Helpful or hurtful?

Our daughter missed some of the so-called earlier first-year benchmarks that she should have hit and those so-called failures fed into our neuroses. We questioned whether we were doing anything wrong or if there was anything wrong with our daughter.

Our doctor assured us that infant developmental milestones and benchmarks were only a guide. However, in a competitive world of “whose child was more mature and more advanced,” we were left wanting. We created a self-induced paranoia that got us worried that there was something wrong with our daughter. Were we to blame? There needed to be a reason. 

I remember when I was finally assured that to keep my sanity I should ignore those infant developmental milestones and other benchmarks. We just needed to do what we could to encourage our daughter no matter where she was in the growth process. This finally hit home at one of the dance/music/movement classes we had enrolled our daughter in.

We liked the class leader because of her ability to not only encourage and enhance the life of our daughter but also to be approachable to us as parents when questions arose. I remember the day of my “approach” like it was yesterday. Concerned our daughter was lagging because she wasn’t crawling, I went to her after class. I told her my concerns and she gave me a simple answer. She told me that when our daughter was ready to walk, talk, sing, or in our case crawl then she would do it. We should allow ourselves the peace of mind to know that our daughter would do everything at her own speed and when she was ready.

Guides, not absolutes

Sure enough, she was right. 

We continue to recognize this idea while attempting to potty train our daughter. We realized she understands the idea of going to the potty and will occasionally go; however, she just isn’t ready yet. She will tell us when that time arrives. 

I believe infant benchmarks are certainly important as guides, but that is only how we should use them. There are definite warning signs of developmental delay to be aware of. However, it is generally recommended to avoid hitting the panic button until your infant is missing milestones by several weeks. Then you should talk to your doctor.

Today, we have a child who through love and encouragement is where she is supposed to be right now. When we put pressure on ourselves to follow those benchmarks as the rule of law, disappointment and doubts in our ability as parents were too often the result. There was so much more nuance to raising our daughter. Instead of paying attention to where she should be, we need to just enjoy her for who and where she was at every “benchmark” age. 

Take it from a convert. Save yourself the anguish and enjoy your children as they are.  The mood swings and tantrums of an almost 3-year-old will make you long for the days when they couldn’t crawl, roll over, or talk. 

About the author

Matthew Pasher is a part-time stay-at-home dad. He’s an avid reader, and a Liverpool fanatic who can make a mean mac and cheese from scratch when asked.

This article first ran in 2012 and has since been updated.

As an openly LGBTQ parent of twins, I’m often asked, “How different is it raising your children?”

Our household must be a complete contrast from our heterosexual counterparts, right? Well, I’ve put together our household routine – let’s count the differences together, shall we?

Wake up and sing

Every morning when the kids wake up, we sing, “Good Morning, Sun.” I take off their sleep sacks, we stretch our arms and give great morning smiles. Sometimes they go on their tummies to stretch after a long sleep in the same position.

Diaper change

The kids really love their diaper changes. (And can you blame them?) Our 6-month-old daughter thinks it’s part of the best playtime ever. She loves to roll away and reach for the wipes, the diaper cream and the clean diapers herself. Once changed, the kids go into their bouncy seats while I work on their bottles.

Feeding time

I sing while preparing the daily bottles, dose out their daily Zantac (baby reflux is real!). Once the bottles are ready, it’s time for the first feeding. The kids love their first bottle of the day. Slurps up, then we burp and move on.

Tummy time and playtime

We head to the mat and gym area of the house and play. I usually sing to them while showing them a myriad of toys to touch, chew and explore. After about 15 minutes, it’s tummy time and some giggles. Oh, and some drool while chewing on the toys. A day isn’t complete without loads of drool.

Nap time

All this work wears the babies out. I set up their sleep sacks and prep the nursery. The blinds are shut and the lights turned off – a slumber haven. I swaddle baby one, bring him or her to the crib and sing that child’s lullaby. Once down, I swaddle and bring in baby two and sing that baby his or her lullaby.

And then while the children are sleeping, it’s time for me to wash the bottles, load the dishwasher, sweep, clean the bathrooms … you get the idea. Sometimes, if I’m lucky, I have 10 minutes to sit and enjoy a cup of coffee … in silence.

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By now I’d bet you’re thinking, “This is exactly my life, too.” This is why it’s funny when I am asked how different parenting in LGBTQ households is. In reality, it’s exactly the same. Parenting is parenting no matter the house. We all have similar routines to keep our kids happy and ourselves sane.

Parenting can at times be seen as an equalizer, of sorts. It’s one thing that is truly universal. It can help bring us closer together and find common ground not only as parents but also as people. While we are all different as individuals, our differences are just a mere portion of who we are. As people we are way more similar than dissimilar and, when we find that common ground, we build a strong platform of support and understanding.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Jeffrey Bernstein, with his husband Brian, is raising twins. Jeffrey is a passionate food scientist with a degree in culinary nutrition. He enjoys preparing good wholesome foods for his family. He initially wrote a version of this for Fathers of Multiples.

I don’t think anyone is ever ready for the duties of parenthood. I know that I wasn’t. And I know that I am still not there yet.

Having a stroller, a crib, and all the onesies and toys is not a substitute for experience. And it doesn’t get easier with time.

As a father, I am supposed to be the firm hand in the mother-father dynamic. My wife should be the one our son, Robbie, runs to when he has a boo-boo. But Robbie just turned 9 months old the other day. What kind of running can he do at this point?

He cries. He cries when he is hungry. He cries when he is hurt, when he is sick, when he wants attention and wants to be held. My heart cries when I can’t soothe him, but I must be stoic because that is what fathers do. That is how fathers are supposed to hold themselves.

Supposed to.

Before Robbie was born, everyone told my wife and me that we were counting down the last days we would get a decent amount of sleep in a long, long time. I have found my remedy: caffeine. But it is hard to find a remedy for the guilt I have for abandoning my wife every single day to go to work.

My guilt is in feeling relieved when I go to work because now I know that — yes, work is supposed to be exhausting, but it is nothing compared to being entrusted with the responsibility of being a parent.

As a father, I must push myself physically and test my limits. When the time comes that Robbie asks me if I want to play catch or give him a ride on my shoulders, I don’t want to hear myself say, “No, Daddy’s tired.” That’s why I am up at 5 a.m., pushing myself to go forward. Not because I have to but because I want to.

I want to be strong enough to throw my son up in the air and cradle him as he comes back down. Because that is what fathers are supposed to do.

There is never a right time to be a father – no one is ever ready. Maybe it is this uncertainty that keeps me grounded yet pushing forward. Otherwise, what good would it be if fatherhood was easy?

So I carry on. Striving to be a better person every single day. To be that firm hand to guide my son. To be the strong shoulder for my wife to lean on.

Because, after all, that is what fathers do.

About the author

Artem Altman is a father, writer, blogger and marketing professional. Follow him online at https://linktr.ee/artemaltman.

Photo: © altanaka / Adobe Stock.