“You know, when you were a baby,” they love hearing about when they were a baby, “I used to hold you just like this all the time,” I explained to Jordyn as I carried her in my arms from the dining room to the kitchen.

Of course, her arms now wrap around my neck, her legs wrap around my waist, and she no longer sits on the crook of my arm. She also weighs a bit more than she used to when she was a baby.

My little girl is not so little anymore.

This is an issue I have problems with. I have a short temper and little patience which is not a good combination.

Yesterday we were in a Sleepy’s chain store to look at mattresses for the two-year-old as she is about to outgrow her crib. As expected, two small children in a mattress store leads to havoc. The older child, my four and a half year old, was warned to calm down and if he didn’t he would lose another toy for a month. This did little to calm him down and eventually he actually hid from me altogether among the 50 or so beds on display. I lost my top.

Not only did I shout out loud that he lost his trains (the fisher price geotrax stuff he loves so much) for a month but I also shouted out that I might actually sell them. 

While my wife was pregnant with the now ten-month-old OperaGirl, everyone I knew or met who had children had plenty to say about what life would be like once we had that tiny person to look after. Mostly they warned me to get a lot of sleep while I could because pretty soon I would be turned into a night-crawling zombie and my brain would be rendered useless. They also told me I had no idea how much I would love her. Some of them would say that kids are great and that they’re really fun. Others would tell me that children are impossible and that I should prepare to be driven insane (usually their kids were toddlers.)

They were all right in some way or another. It is true that I didn’t get any sleep for many months and that I had the I.Q. of a learning-disabled hamster. I didn’t believe them but they were right. It is also true that I didn’t have a clue about how much I would love her. That is a kind of love that truly can’t be described with words. And, they we’re right about kids being fun. OperaGirl is my main source of entertainment every day. Having a child is also impossible on occasion, although OperaGirl has not yet become a chaos wielding toddler terrorist. There’s still time for that, I’m sure.

One thing they didn’t tell me was how much I would worry. There truly is a lot of worrying involved in being a parent. When OperaGirl was first born I would stick my head into her bassinet while she was sleeping about every twenty minutes to make sure she was still breathing. One time she slept through the night and slept in so late that I went in her bedroom to wake her up. She didn’t wake up as soon as I touched her and for about five seconds I believed that she had died of SIDS, until her little voice piped up, annoyed that I was stirring her from her slumber. Those were the longest five seconds of my life.

Lately our worries are slightly more realistic and less terrifying. Mostly we worry about OperaGirl diving face first into various furniture while she’s attempting to walk. Also, every time she catches a little cold or something we assume she’s dying of pneumonia. Last week we she was cranky for a few days in a row and she had a fever so we took her to the pediatrician. It turns out she has a perforated ear drum. Before you get too nervous about that I’ll tell you that it’s not a big deal and she’ll be as good as new with some antibiotics. But, when I first heard about it I freaked out pretty good. I thought she was going deaf which would be a total bummer since I was counting on her to become a famous opera singer and buy her dad a yacht or something.

I guess what I call “worrying” is really just “paying attention.” And, while worrying may be an essential part of parenting, the truth is that every time I hear her laugh or see her take steps across the room or say “Dada” I don’t have a care in the world.

This is my first post as a contributor.  I thought of many things to post about.  I am a father of 2, Zoe is 3 and Alexis is 1.  I have been married for the last 6 years and I am an entrepreneur. 

My spouse was recently in NYC for 4 days, so it was me and the kids in the tent trailer.

Saturday night, after putting Alexis to bed, I went to the cottage beside us with Zoe. They had installed a piano, guitars, bongos, amps, a digital mixer and finally 2 microphones. The poker chips were all nicely lined up and they had set up a bar in a corner.

At 10:30, after singing a bit and playing bongos, Zoe asked me if we could go back to our cottage since she was tired.  I put her on my shoulders and tucked her in bed once we made it to the cottage. I chose to stay with her and sleep and be there 100% the following morning for my kids.

How many of you get up with your children at night?  Be honest now.

It’s no easy task.  For a long time, I was doing it every night (I was the at-home parent, and for some reason people think it’s easier to be exhausted taking care of children than to be exhausted while sitting at a desk and staring at a computer. Trust me, I’ve done both, and the consequences for falling asleep with little children running around are far more severe.).  These days, I only get up with my girls half the week, but it usually takes the remainder of the week to recover.

My oldest, who turns five next month, was never much of a sleeper.  She never napped more than an hour a day (except for those first few months) and would fight sleep all night long.  She’d scream at bedtime.  She’d wake three or four or five times each night, always asking for a bottle or a drink. The doctor made suggestions, as did friends.  “Let her scream.” “Ignore her.” “Don’t give her a drink, she doesn’t need it.” Well, every night for a week we let her scream.  Never worked.  I let her go almost 90 minutes one night.  When I finally caved, I discovered she’d thrown up in her bed and was a mess. Riddled with a wee bit of guilt, I never let her scream again.