Well here we go. Let’s start with introductions. I’m dad. I’m also a father to be. This is a daddy blog. This is a father to be blog.

I have a two year old daughter and a yet-to-be-determined bun in my wife’s oven. (S)he’ll be here in November. We live in a middle class suburb in a house that accounts for more of our income than it should.  We own a tiny, squirrel-dog Chihuahua thing that I hated at first, but grew to love as soon as I realized that its shits were the size of tic-tacs that didn’t require me to trounce around the yard with a grocery bag and shovel on some sick fecal treasure hunt. We also have a small saltwater tank with two clown fish: Bert and Ernie. At one time we had a yellow fish named Big Bird, but he died and Bert and Ernie ate him. 

There you go: me (Dad), wife, 1.5 kids, kind of a dog and two fish.  Pretty run of the mill. We had the pets before the kid and aside from the cannibalism incident, which I figured was more of an anomaly than a trend, we kept them mostly alive and happy. We figured a couple tiny humans would be a breeze, AND eventually they would evolve past the poop only phase of their lives and mow the lawn. Win/win. 

So now we come to the blog. I guess I should outline a few key points.

This is not an advice blog. It is a joyful cry for help.

I have no sage advice to offer. I am an inexperienced parent clawing my way through my kid’s formative years.  I’m going to write about our lives from a young father’s perspective. I’ll write what I’m doing, what works, what doesn’t, and try and make it entertaining and funny. I am in no way an “authority” on what I’m writing about. I welcome/want/request feedback, criticism, conversation, and advice in the comments. My hope is to engage in the parenting blogger community and create conversation.

I have no idea what I am doing.

Case in point: The other day I was changing my daughter’s poopy diaper and its sticky tab got caught on the wipe I was using to clean her off. The wipe then became a leash for the poopy diaper and I accidentally pulled it off the changing table. It dangled from the wipe for a split second, a sword of poopoclese if you will, before gravity overcame the sticking power a diaper tag has on a wet wipe and the diaper fell butter side down on top of my bare foot. I then blamed my daughter for it and calmly explained that I wasn’t mad, just disappointed.  As if to acknowledge my disappointment, she smiled and patted my arm calmly with her hand… her hand that, moments before, had been manually smearing the remaining poop on her butt while I had been distracted by her diaper’s descent. And I was worried about cleaning up dog poo!

Anyway, my current philosophy is that I’ll do my best and shower often.

And finally…

Despite any frustrations or general bitching expressed herein, I genuinely LOVE being a father and everything that comes with it. I look forward to sharing my experiences with you all and hope you’ll enjoy, follow, and comment back.

With love and baby poop,

Dad

Next week on Ask Your Dad Blog: 30 hours of driving with two toddlers. I go insane and everyone cries so you don’t have to.