100 Words Per Mile: The Boring Part of the Story

55,000 words into this thing, I'm getting a little sick of myself.

January 19, 2022
6.00 miles
49:13

I spent my morning trying to get my daughter to roll over. She has a favorite toy: a rattle that changes colors when tapped or shaken. The hope was that if I lie her on her back, place the rattle just out of reach over her shoulder, then she would roll over in her attempt to grab it. There were moments when it seemed like she was ready to reach, but ultimately, the attempt failed. We eventually moved on to relaxing next to one another while I read The Very Hungry Caterpillar aloud and she touch the pages as if she were going to turn them.

I’m trying to strike the balance between pushing my daughter to exercise and develop those skillsets, while also just sitting back and allowing her to be a happy baby. Everything you read is about early development and how getting a head start on everything will pay dividends down the road. The sooner she rolls, the sooner she crawls, the sooner she walks, the sooner she plays, etc. Dad just wants to play! I think I’m doing a decent balancing act so far, but I’m already acutely aware of how differently my wife and I parent. Tummy time is my job and singing to her is my wife’s job. We didn’t choose either one, it’s just how things came to be. Sometimes I sing to the baby, and sometimes my wife engages in a little bit of tummy time, but our roles have defined themselves naturally and I really appreciate how easy it is to do this with her.

We’ve added more to the baby’s corner: a bookshelf of her own. This doesn’t negate the work we did to clear my shelves; instead, it provides more space to litter our living room with baby stuff. I know litter is a bit of a pejorative verb but I don’t mean it negatively. Baby stuff is thrown about our house and must be picked up regularly each day. Litter feels appropriate here.

The corner has proven incredibly effective, though. This is where I failed to coax the baby into rolling over. It’s also where we do tummy time, and “read” books, and relax on the boppy. When I have to run to the kitchen to warm a bottle, it’s where I trust the baby to hangout and remain. I’m fully aware that her immobility is a bit of a blessing, because everyone tells me the moment the kid can move on their own, there’s no turning back.

I’ve picked up a bit of an annoying habit, and as aware of it as I am, I can’t quite tell if my wife is actually annoyed by it. While she sleeps in and the baby and I have all these adventures, I try to record four to five minutes of whatever she’s doing. For instance, had she actually rolled over today, I would have had video evidence to show my wife when she joined us later. The baby doesn’t do anything spectacular (unless you’re her parents, to whom everything is spectacular) and I insist on putting my phone in my wife’s face anyway. The baby is awake, in front of us. We could happily experience this real life version of her in the present, but I want her to watch the four minute video I recorded this morning. I just want to share the dumb bit of joy I experienced while she was sleeping.

I know. I’m working on it. The human moment when you are consciously doing a thing you wish you wouldn’t do, and yet, you can’t seem to stop yourself anyway. Is there a name for that? Is it literature?