Let me start off by saying: “First time parents.. you’re never ready to have your baby! There’s no such thing. Oh, you think you’re ready.. but then it happens and you freak the hell out.” See, I had to say that. I’ve found that having a child means you have to act like a damn know-it-all “been there, done that” prick. Having kids turns you into a blithering idiot. The sad thing is even if you realize that, you can’t stop it.
That’s the other thing first-timers have to look forward to.. every jackass who has ever had kids wants to yap your ear off with their crappy advice. Then they welcome you to the “club” and smile knowingly as they tell you about their shit-head kids and the wild parenting experiences they’ve had. As if having a baby changed the fact that you don’t give a crap about other people’s kids. Or is it just me? I don’t know. I’ve digressed.
We went in for a regularly scheduled checkup a couple weeks before the babys due date and were told, “Wow, you need to get over to the hospital now. We’re having this baby today!” My first reaction was “No, no, no. We can’t do it today.. if we do it two weeks from now, I can work from home for a couple extra weeks. We should do it then.” The doctor looked at me like this was unreasonable. Apparently babies are very defiant and can’t follow directions even from the very start.
Chad's baby, 30 seconds after being born.
So we go over to the hospital, check in and get ready for the action. I don’t want to get into the details of the birthing process (because the footage is available in the “soopa-secret hidden bonus material” section of my critically-acclaimed standup dvd).. but I think I can sum it all up by saying there’s both a time to be ive, and a time to shut the hell up and get out of the way. Walking that fine line is the tricky part. Here’s a tip: bring your own booze. The hospital doesn’t keep any in the fridge.
When you’re having a baby everybody asks what you’d prefer, a boy or a girl. It really didn’t matter to me as long as the child was healthy and black, yaknowatimsayin’? (See, ’cause my wife and I are both whiter than Vanilla Ice.. ha! ha! woo! White and Black jokes! Guess what else? I DANCE LIKE A DORK! ha! ha!)
First time parents are already scared out of their minds – add the chance of retardation, deformity and the baby coming out looking like your lady’s “close, but completely platonic friend” and the stress level is high enough to justify pulling out that six-foot bong you’ve had in storage since college. One thing to keep in mind is that all babies are really ugly when they’re born. Incredibly ugly. I’d been told this, but I wasn’t prepared for the first time I saw my baby. Her skin was blue, she was covered in a white film plus blood and goo.. and her head was shaped like a gourd. She looked like an unfortunately misshapen inbred Gremlin.
Callia Lee Riden, after the swelling went down.
My heart sunk. “Oh God. Oh, no! She’s.. special. She’s going to be one of Jerry’s kids! Dammit!” My thoughts were erratic and crazed as I ran thru our options. Finally I came to my senses. “It’s ok. I love her no matter what. I won’t run screaming out of here right now, never to return. We’re NOT leaving her in a dumpster and fleeing the country. We’ll take care of her.” By this time, I just felt silly because she had started looking human. The point is.. don’t make rash decisions those first few minutes. Give it about 5 or 10 minutes before doing something you’ll regret. ‘Cause she’s turned out to be beautiful.
Unfortunately, she looks a lot like me. Not unfortunate for me.. but oh, that poor kid. Imagine me about five days old in a diaper. Except with yellow skin. She did have jaundice, but we loved our little Simpsons baby. I’d hold her and say, “doh!” and my wife would say “mmmmmmmmmm!” and some kid we didn’t even know would ride by on a bike and go “ha-ha!” Never has my shame been so cartoonish.
Once we took the baby home, it amazed me how attentive she was. She pays such close attention to everything we say and do.. it really puts the pressure on. You start running out of original things to say to a baby and end up repeating little things over and over. Eventually we were reduced to blabbering about how pretty she is.. how perfect she is. I started getting scared that it would all go to her head and we’d end up with a prissy sorority girl princess who thinks she’s better than everybody else. To prevent this, I’ve started balancing out these compliments by saying things like “you’re so intelligent! Such a great mathematician! How’s daddy’s little astronaut?”
Another thing I found myself saying was “Daddy will fix it.” Weather it was a bottle, diaper or some other baby catastrophe, I’d reassure my child by repeating the “Daddy will fix it” mantra. I’ve decided I need to stop doing that, too. I don’t want an 18-year old daughter to be running over pedestrians in her new BMW without giving it a second thought because she knows “Daddy will fix it.” It’s easy to stop saying it now, but when that phrase starts to mean “I’ll just put it on Daddy’s credit card” – then I’m screwed. Better nip it in the bud.
My wife is so over-protective of the baby.. it cracks me up. The other day the baby and I were down in the basement laying on the couch, just minding our own business watching porn.. not doing anything wrong.. and my wife comes running into the room like the baby’s on fire asking me “is she still breathing? check her.. is she still breathing?” Ridiculous. I’m not the best Daddy ever, but I’m not that bad.. but I am a smart ass. So I reply, “No, sweetie, she died four hours ago.. I’m just cuddling her corpse.”
Of course she was alive. We were the ones walking around like the living dead.. all sleep deprived, undernourished and unbathed like really lame zombies. Even Michael Jackson’s zombie buddies in Thriller were disfigured with tattered clothes.. cool gang members who just happened to use the art of dance to express their unholy rage. What about us? Do we get to bust thru walls and scare teens with our crotch-grabbing spins and twists? No, we had to stay up all night crying.. hoping we didn’t flip and throw the baby against the wall.
We did figure out how to get the baby to sleep thru the night. Many people will tell you to put baby cereal in their formula.. but that’s just a lie. The secret is: fill their little bottles or sippy-cups or whatever up with black coffee at 9 a.m. and at 9 p.m. slip ‘em some sleeping pills. That pretty much keeps her on schedule. And when that doesn’t work, violent beatings do! Ahh, restful slumber.
The other big lie people tell is that they never get a chance to go out after the birth. What a crock. You don’t even need a babysitter. If your child can’t walk or talk, you can just set her in a closet and go about your business. She can’t get out.. who’s she gonna tell?
She is developing and growing so fast, though. You’d be amazed at how quickly they learn. She does this little trick now where she ties a cherry stem into a knot with her tongue! So cute.
All jokes aside, baby farming is the most rewarding thing you could ever do. It’s absolutely amazing. Pound for pound, babies are worth more on the black market than most all other commodities. The tough part is fattening them up enough to sell. You can’t just pack up a newborn in styrofoam peanuts and ship ‘em UPS.. you’ve gotta make sure they have enough body fat to survive the trip. Otherwise, you’ll end up with bad feedback on ebay. That sticks with you your entire life!
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