OG DAD #19: The Scream
It’s no secret, the amount of crying you have to listen to when you have a baby is astronomical. Before this, my exposure to crying females was pretty much limited to those I was in a relationship with
...moreIt’s no secret, the amount of crying you have to listen to when you have a baby is astronomical. Before this, my exposure to crying females was pretty much limited to those I was in a relationship with
...moreMy daughter got her first bill today. $25, a cancellation fee for blowing off an appointment with a Dr. Papoolian.
...moreI read in The New York Times about feces transplants—quite possibly the future of post-antibiotic intestinal medicine—and the future of my entire family suddenly seemed rosy.
...moreSo I’m standing in front of the fridge, door open, wondering more-or-less what happened to my life, when I suddenly remember I have an eight month old baby in my arms.
...moreBefore what happened happened at Sandy Hook Elementary, I was going to write about back pain. Specifically “boomer back”—dark secret of infant–spawning post-50 boomerdom—a malady specific to “older parents”
...moreAs if the recent presidential campaign was not disturbing enough, in the middle of it, my five month old morphed into Donald Trump.
...moreA baby is like a Rorschach. An occasionally adorable, periodically screamy blob onto which we project our own fears, delights and inner damage.
Or something.
...moreIdeas, as famed vegetarian and human breast milk fan, George Bernard Shaw, once said, are not responsible for the people who embrace them.
...moreIt’s been 43 days since Baby N came in for landing. Maybe too early to wax sentimental, but not, I hope, to revisit the particular weirdness of Mondo Maternito.
...moreMy niggling fear, as a late-in-the game Dad, was that somehow I’d end up in diapers before my baby was out of them.
...moreFirst time away from the baby, and the world is a strange new place. Before leaving, I spent an acid-without-the-acid-esque few days contemplating the tiny faux-hawked nipple-sucker perched atop E’s monstro breast.
...moreWEEK 39, DAY 7
Spoiler alert: I’m writing this with half-day old, 6 pound, nine ounce newborn and Patton Oswalt-lookalike Baby N curled in my left arm, typing one-handed with a precariously balanced MacBook on my crotch
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WEEK 39, DAY 6
Here we are, back in the doctor’s office. Our home away from home. We’ve come, yet again, to try and see why our unborn party ball has yet to start its descent into humanity.
...moreWEEk 39, DAY 5
Jesus, this fucking waiting! It’s like, if I were paranoid, I would actually be wondering if this baby-to-be kind of hates us. Or, more accurately, hates me.
...moreWEEK 39, DAY 4
So, we’re back in the OB/GYN waiting room. Our baby still hasn’t come. The suspense, as they say, is killing me.
...moreFor reasons I explained last time around, we are having our little she-creature in Austin, which has a reputation as the hipster heart of Texas.
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OG (Old Guy) Dad will recount the adventures of a man who, in the proverbial autumn of his years, or at least the pre pre-autumn, discovers his girlfriend is pregnant. And having a baby. Whereupon hi-jinks, cosmic and mundane, ensue.
This Friday, April 3 in San Francisco, The Rumpus is teaming up with Litquake and City Lights Books to throw a book release party for Jerry Stahl’s new book Painkillers.
To quote somebody far more incisive than me, “Once your book comes out, the weirdness begins…”
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We live in heinous times. Times when it’s nearly impossible to be shocked by the sheer horror to which humans subject each other. (Where do you go after Tutsis and Hutus?) And then, one fine Thursday in the dawn of the Obama Disappointment Months, you pick up The New York Times and slurp your granola over a front page story about Dr.
Rumpus columnist Jerry Stahl raps about his new novel, Pain Killers. Who wouldn’t want to read this book?
...moreAsk any Hepatitis C veteran, and he or she will tell you about “brain fog,” the actual medical term for sudden, occasionally crippling bouts of fatigue and confusion. As a hep cat myself, I was intrigued to learn this week that brain fog is caused by ammonia.
...more“Dip a senior hammer-toe in the pool, and pretty soon you’re sucked in. An entire parallel universe is devoted to the Reluctant Elderly – from senior swing parties to Testosterone doctors, who’ll give you the body of a young Dolph Lungren, even if they can’t do anything about the fact that your ear lobes now hang down to your shoulders.
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