Alan Smithee

Tales of Fatherhood Part 1 — Bodily Fluids

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Hey there whores, you might have noticed I’ve been severely lacking in my posts here the last couple of weeks. This comes from the fact that me and my wife were expecting our first child. Well, she was finally born 2 weeks ago on the 1st of October and I have been hella busy becoming that provider and nurturer known as ‘dad’.

Fatherhood, many people say, is a wonderful thing that takes tons of work for very little payoff. I have to say that so far it has been a lot of work, but its not really that hard and completely rewarding to know that you are providing for another human being that has no way of caring for themselves.

With that being said, let’s move onto the less glorious aspects of child rearing.

This week’s story has to deal with one of my biggest fears…all of the countless types of bodily fluids you are subjected to as a new father.

Let me paint the picture for you, my wife had just left the house with her mother to run an errand and left me to watch my darling daughter for a few hours. I thought that it would be pretty simple because she tends to sleep most the time and only requires changing or feeding.

How wrong I was…

About half way through my second saved episode of Top Gear on my DVR, she woke up for her normal feeding. I had the bottle in hand and was ready for this. Tip her back, bottle in mouth, wait and watch, pull bottle out, tip her up, pat on back, burp, repeat until the bottle is empty. Only after the bottle was done, on the burping motion she decided that her tank was a bit too full and thought that my shirt would be a good place to deposit some of that unnecessary milk. There’s bodily fluid #1.

The spit up wasn’t too bad, I could live with that. It was only after my continued burping of her that I got a hefty deposit of brown gold all over my hands, shirt, pants, and various places on her as she had a blowout that would have spackled any toilet quite graciously if she were potty trained.

By now, she didn’t quite like the urgency in which I had to get she and I changed to avoid making messes on her mother’s favorite Lay-Z-Boy recliner. In other words she started screaming bloody murder. During the diaper change, I noticed that the poo went all the way down one leg to her toes and just as far in the opposite direction on her back…it was a complete and utter mess and was grossing me out while making me feel some sense of pride. I noticed during the havoc that my phone was ringing repeatedly, almost sending me into a panic attack.

Having children is super good fun.

As I was in the middle of putting the new diaper onto my sad little girl, I frantically wiping little nuggets off her with the baby wipes, but she thought this would be a good time to let her bladder loose. So there I am, covered in baby vomit and poo and she decides to add insult to injury by peeing on her daddy.

Once it was all said and done, she had a smile ear to ear and was obviously happy to be rid of all that waste. At that same moment, her mother and grandmother walk into the room to find me shirtless with a smiling baby and think everything went off without a hitch.

My wife asked me why I didn’t answer the phone and then noticed all of the mess that I had on my shirt, which was now stewing in the sink, she looked at me and just started to smile and make fun of the whole situation while I relayed the story.

Gentlemen, expectant fathers, and men of the world…don’t ever give ammunition to your wife/girlfriends like that, it’s a recipe for trouble. All I have to say is that I can’t wait for it to happen to her. We’ll see soon enough.

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