No, Maddie, My Name is Daddy

not the mamaKids are something else, man. They start out as these little blobs. Okay, they start as babies, not blobs. But come on, they look a little bit like blobs, right? RIGHT?? And then, in what seems like an instant, they become these mobile, talkative little people.

The way they move is downright hilarious. Maddie, at all of 18-months, looks like she’s trying to charge through a locked door every time she gets moving. Shoulders slightly forward, legs a churnin, and a head of steam going full force. It cracks me up just thinking about it.

And then, there are the words. They speak, eventually. Did you know that? They do, I swear. The words they start to spout are even funnier. They try to say things, and you think you know what they mean, but come on, do you really what all that gibberish means? Oh you do? Well, carry on then…

Anyway… One of Maddie’s first words was Da-Da. And yeah, that’s pretty damn awesome. Was she talking to me? I mean, I guess so, but she could have just been saying it because she knew no other words, so everything was Da-Da. Maybe she was singing. You never really know, do you? That brings us to now. The present. Maddie knows a few words, even knows the name of her daycare teacher. Milk, blanket, bottle, more. And, she knows Mommy. You know who she calls Mommy? She calls Mommy, Mommy. You know who else she calls Mommy? ME. Yes, she calls Daddy by Mommy.

10940984_10100634127066430_5894384896721366086_nAnd it’s not just like she’s looking past me. She’s looking right AT me. Yesterday, when I arrived at daycare to pick the girls up, I heard the pitter patter of running, tiny feet coming behind me down the hallway. And do you know what I heard? Guess. I’ll give you a minute…………………………

“Mommy!!!!! Mommmmmmyyyyyyyyyy!!!!”

Do you know who wasn’t with me? Sarah, aka Mommy. Nope. It was Daddy. Her teacher told me that she saw Maddie start running and heard her yelling Mommy–“but I only saw the back of your head and you aren’t Mommy”–is what she told me. So, there is that.

Maddie, if you’re reading this (and since you’re my daughter you must be able to read by now, right?), my name is Daddy. That’s D-A-D-D-Y. Ask Sophia, she knows how to say it and how to spell it. She also knows that it’s my name. She’s your big sister, it’s her job to help you out with these things.

I know, the time will come, relatively soon I’m sure, where Maddie will call me by my name. Hell, I won’t be surprised if she starts calling me Nick before she starts calling me Daddy. But, in the meantime, I’ll suck it up and I guess I’ll be called Mommy for a while. I’ll still point to myself and say “No, Daddy!” every.single.time, though!

For My Wife – The Hall to My Oates

Why yes, that is Sarah and I dressed as Hall and Oates... ROCKED IT.

Why yes, that is Sarah and I dressed as Hall and Oates… ROCKED IT.

A lot of parents like to refer to raising kids as a team sport. And, in a lot of ways, it is. A lot of us need a tag-team partner in this wrestling ring of parenthood. Having the right partner who knows when to tag themselves in, or tag you out for a break, can go a long way in your hunt for that ever-elusive Parenthood Championship Belt. Continue reading