In Christopher Moore‘s hilarious book, ‘A Dirty Job‘, his main character is a ‘beta male’. Moore describes a beta male as the guy that wasn’t all that popular in high school that, when something does go his way, he feels like it will be snatched away at any moment. The beta male’s imagination is constantly shifting to the worst case scenario.

I’m pretty sure that I am a beta male, and I have a pretty active imagination.

That’s why, on Wednesday, when I posted the ‘Super Dad and His Amazing Family’ edition of Wordless Wednesday, I took it pretty hard when Weasel Momma called me to the mat about a couple of pictures of my five week old son sleeping. In one, he is sleeping next to his three year old sister, in another, he is on his side, nestled in a blanket. Both pictures are abso-friggin-lutely adorable.

I think Weasel Momma agreed, but she utilized the comments on my blog and twitter to tell me of the dangers of allowing a baby to sleep on an adult bed with other kids. She reminded me that the best place for a baby to sleep is in a crib without bumpers or blankets or soft toys.

Of course, I knew that. I read the magazines at the doctor’s office. I do searches on WebMD. I almost fired back ‘He’s in the crib MOST of the time! Do you think I’m stupid?’ I wanted to ask what business it was of hers. But then I stopped and thought. I’m the one that puts my life out on my blog for the world to see. So far I’ve been fortunate enough to find kindred spirits that give me lots of encouragement and kind words.

Weasel Momma is one of those kind folks. The reason she cares, the reason she stuck her nose in at all, is that she is a SIDS mom. At this realization, my view began to shift. What would I do in that situation? I could only imagine. And as I mentioned before, my imagination gets pretty vivid…

Weasel Momma, I commend you. It takes courage to put these experiences out there. It takes courage to stand up and say something when you see that something’s not right. I thank you for your advice and look forward to more in the future. I also would like to apologize for any trauma I may have caused, inadvertently drudging up those memories…

Tristin, I apologize to you for not making sure that you are 100% safe at all times. Your mom and I would go straight out of our heads if anything were to happen to you.

When my wife breast feeds, she often lays down with him, and if he drifts off to sleep, we leave him there, thinking that because it’s during the day, and we’re being attentive, that it should be okay. Because Calli loves her baby brother, sometimes she wants to snuggle him.

At night, we’ve been kind of putting up with the bassinet, looking at cribs half-heartedly, but not with much sense of urgency.

Yesterday, I ordered a crib. It does not have a drop-side, adding stability and no pinch points! I’m not kidding, this changed my life.

Hoo!

I promised I’d lighten things up, so here’s a couple more snippets:

It occured to me that I did a lot of complaining on this blog in the past. I bitch about my job, my living situation, … but it occured to me that I hardly ever give resolution! Which, of course, goes against what I wanted when I started this blog. I want people to think that I am the perfect father and provider. I want people to weep when they read this blog, because I am so much better than them!  ;)  Alas, I am a beta male, and I have problems just like every one else…

The job is getting better. I have this weekend off, and I start my three days on, three days off schedule on Monday. They promise no more extra days, no more extra long days. I am completely optimistic about this, it will be amazing!

I mentioned it on twitter, but never blogged about my new digs. We were living in a two bedroom apartment and panicked about trying to fit a family of five into it. The week before Tristin was born, we moved into a three bedroom two and a half bath duplex with it’s OWN WASHER AND DRYER and a two car garage. There’s a lot of storage and a fireplace, and it actually feels like someplace I can LIVE!

On the online life front, I’ve started a protected twitter account that I will have more control over. If you would like to add to the conversation and not sell me stuff, (i.e. if you’re from dad-blogs) follow me @JustinMHowe, and I’ll follow back. If you want to show me how amazing it is to shove advertising down people’s throats on twitter and facebook, I’m blocking your ass.

Thanks so much for listening, I’ll be a lot more jovial in the posts ahead!

Calli can help you conquer the world!

Yesterday I was stressed at work. The day before that, I was stressed at work. Last week: yeah, more stress. I don’t want to get up in the morning. I don’t blog but once a week (FatherHood Friday, as seen at dad-blogs.com! Be sure to check out all the cool moms and dads who selflessly share the lives of their families for your entertainment and delight!) I can hardly take making a decision anymore, because somehow it’ll be wrong to someone.

So. After a stressful day at work, I walked through the pouring rain to my car. Generally, when it’s raining and I feel blue, I imagine myself as David Banner, put my hands in my pockets and whistle the ‘Incredible Hulk’ theme, but this time it wasn’t enough to make me feel better. I had to stay later than I wanted, causing us to miss the performance of Alice in Wonderland I really wanted to take Calli to. I popped the trunk and realized I’d left the laptop back in the office. Perfect. Only I didn’t think ‘perfect’. I try to keep my blog family-friendly, so I’ll leave out what I really thought.

I drove home, rain crashing on the windshield. I did NOT turn on the radio. I just sulked.

So I come home to the family. Calli is inconsolable. She REALLY wants to go outside. But she doesn’t want to wear her raincoat or boots. We plead with her and essentially wrestle her to the ground to get her to don her rain acoutrements. I try real hard to tuck in the raw nerve she keeps stepping on. It’s not her fault I had a bad day, week, and month. She’s just being her precocius two-year old self. And judging from stories I’ve heard, she’s not even all that bad!

Raingear on, Calli, Kat, and their Mom go outside. I pace the apartment, not wanting to be rude to my family, but feeling like I need a moment alone. The half hour in the silent car wasn’t enough. Aw, heck, I’ll go see what they’re up to!

I stepped outside my building in my Rock ‘em Sock ‘em Robot pajama pants and Legion of Super Heroes t-shirt (a sign I truly don’t care. I normally don’t set foot outside in something like that! I usually match the pants to the t-shirt, come on!) and turn left, so absorbed in my sulking that I don’t notice the family off to the right.

“Justin!” I hear my wife call. I turn to see her jogging back to our apartment. “I gotta get the camera! Wanna go watch the kids playing in the mud?”

I looked over, and there they were: the two ‘sissies’ (sisters, not cowards) were splashing and playing in the mud.

Calli looked up with her big baby blues and said, “Try it, Daddy!”

“I don’t know, maybe later.”

“Peeeeaze? I wanta you to try it!”

“OK.”

Good times...

I kicked off my sandals and let the mud ooze between my toes. I watched Calli and Kat stomp around in the mud. We laughed and splashed and played. I began to think of when I was a kid, and rain was almost magical! Rain was when you went outside and splashed and played and delighted in your merry mess making. Rain’s not a literary symbol for sadness and depression. Rain is liberating and cleansing. I had forgotten that.

Kids will do that to you. Sometimes you have to shake off the cranial-anal disorder to see it.

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When I post Kat’s art, I get comments that say ‘Keep them coming!’ So, I’m happy to oblige!

Today we present some Kat-style fantasy!