Fast forward about an hour and I have gotten almost nothing accomplished. The topic of interest was inbound marketing, when that failed I moved to event research but that become too taxing as well. I digressed further to writing a few easy e-mails while avoiding the ones that will take an effort to answer. Once done “work” moved to inforgraphs on Mashable, tweeting news shorts and YouTube videos of a one-clawed lobster involved in a knife fight. In another 30 minutes I’ll be too tired to form a cohesive thoughts and won’t be able to finish this post until tomorrow (if I finish it at all).

What the hell happened to me? This is just a quick glimpse into my average day, and into a much larger problem that I developed; being a father has made me dumber.

Before my son was born I was functioning at high cognitive levels, learning new techniques, advancing in my career and expanding my horizons. I remembered dates, names, times, numbers, processes and other important things like login passwords.

Now I’m thankful I remember how to tie my shoes.

Everyday I can get through where I don’t forget more than I learn is a good day. I no longer remember names, even though I do all the tricks like name association and saying it back at the person. I apparently have reached the maximum number of names I remember, which means that if I remember you, please feel bad for the person I had to forget to do so.

Numbers, forget it. I can’t remember any phone numbers (thank god for cell phones).  I also loose track of bank account numbers, passwords and lock combinations. Math, math was hard before I was a dad. It sure as hell isn’t getting any easier.

I am going through some sort of skills atrophy with Photoshop, InDesign, WordPress and a handful of other programs that for the months leading up to my son’s birth I had been getting better with. It feels like much of that knowledge is slowly slipping away when I stare blankly a code for 15 minutes or I try to put a simple filter on a photo.

The only books I can seem to get all the way through usually have cartoon dogs on the pages and are made of cardboard. It is almost June and I have only started 3 books for myself this year. Notice I said started. That’s because I haven’t come close to finishing any of them. At this rate I’ll know the introduction to a half dozen new books by Christmas. That is if I can remember what the books are even about. I also seem to forget things as fast as I read them. I had to read an Atlantic article 3 times to  fully understand it. The ironic thing is the article was on staying focused and societal-wide autism.  I can’t finish any op-ed that is more than 400 words (meaning I wouldn’t finish reading this if I didn’t write it).

(This is the part of the blog where I forgot what I was about to write about)

It seems as if my brain is full, and it’s full up with a different kind of information. Like what time my son takes his naps and what foods he is not eating this week. I have to remember how much milk he has had each day, where his shampoo is, and which shelf to hang his clean clothes on (still not very good at this one). My brain is log-jammed with processes such as how to strap my son in his car seat, the correct order to read his bedtime stories and how to present lunch to him so that he actually eats something other than bread with peanut butter.

Do other dad’s experience this one-dimensionality with their cognitive thinking. Does it get better? Or as time goes by and dads are filled up with school projects and soccer practice does it get worse? Will I need a name tag and Velcro shoes before hit 40? Do I need to start a diary of things to remember and keep it in my night stand? Please let me know if I should be concerned.

In the meantime I will be right here trying to remember what I need to prepare for my afternoon meeting and what I need to pick up at the grocery store later.

At the time I was the man with an infant who longed for a tasty brew but it seems now the tables have turned. Chad is as of today the father of a newborn baby boy. More complicated than that is this is his second as he already has a wonderful 3-year old boy. (side note: having 2 children is actually like having 17 children to those of us who can’t imagine having more than 1)

With his wife in her last days of pregnancy  Chad spent his time stocking up on blog posts (the male tech-nerd way of nesting) one of which he wrote as a guest post for this blog. Please enjoy and visit his blog for all things beer. For the father’s out there like me it will be an immediate favorite.

When Beer Guys have kids…

Things change, which happens when anyone has a kid, it can be pretty obvious when a Beer Guy has a
kid though.

1. A Night out at the Beer Bar is over by 6:30 because you have to make it home to tuck-in your kid

2. The pocket on the front of your soft cooler has snacks in it, and we’re not talking peanuts and jerky
it’s baggies of goldfish and Cheerios.

3. You don’t roll the dice on that extra beer giving you a headache in the morning because it’ll be a
headache in two hours when it’s time to feed the baby.

4. If you are a chilled mug kind of guy that space in the freezer has been re-allocated for frozen breast
milk.

5. Your trip to the lake for the day involves a cooler full of bottles but only half of them have Beer in
them.

6. It’s been 9 months since you needed to figure out who was going to be the DD for the evening.

7. If you’re going out with your wife, you lose pal, she hasn’t had a drink in 9 months, you’re the DD.

8. You will at some point find yourself out of beer snacks and try a teething biscuit.

9. You’ll be amazed at how hammered you feel after one beer and hours of sleep deprivation.

10. You left the Beer Bar with a kick ass new onesie… maybe you’ll get a T-shirt for Father’s Day.

11. You haven’t drank beer from one of your kids bottles… but you’ve thought about it.

12. An empty car seat is the perfect place to buckle in that growler you just picked up.

13. You exit the Brewfest to find your wife and kid sitting curbside waiting for you.

14. You convert one of your wife’s old brewery T’s into a badass brewery cape.

15. You are super proud the first time you’re in the beer aisle at the grocery store and your kid
hollers “BEER!” your wife on the other hand, super embarrassed.

16. Your kid thinks it’s a treat to go to the beer bar in the afternoon for a soft pretzel and so do you.

17. You’ll notice while waiting for the soft pretzel that the beer bar doesn’t have playful placemats and
crayons.

18. You’ll DVR the documentary on the History of Beer so your kid can watch Disney.

19. You don’t know when you’ll have that magical Disney vacation but you know where you can get a
beer while you’re there.

20. The old rule “you never pass up a free beer” is void, at some point you’ll pass one up for your kid.

Yep, things change, but change is good right?

Cheers!

Chaddah

The top name given to boys born in the Maine in 2012 was Mason, while Emma was the top name given to girls born. A total of 100 boys were given the name Mason in and 101 given Emma. This is by no means a surprise as both were the top names for 2011 as well.

Coming in a close second was Liam (98 boys were named this) with Noah, Owen and Jacob rounding out the top five. Second for girls was Sophia (78 girls were named this) followed by Abigail, Ava and Oliva. The source for this information is a 100% sample based on Social Security card application data.

Earlier this year the SSA released the top 10 boy and girl names at the national level. Jacob was at the top among boy’s names while Sophia was the most frequently name given to girls. This should come as no surprise as both were at the top of the pile in 2011 as well. Jacob has actually been the most popular name in the United States for newborn baby boys for the past 14 straight years, long before the Twilight Series.

The blog, also called “STFU, Parents,” is where Koenig points out the blatant over-sharing of people’s children on Facebook. From detailed accounts of potty training heroics to “mommyjacking” (when a parent uses someone else’s post as a platform to shift the focus to their own child) the blog makes fun of parents who feel the need to update the world every time their child soils itself.

I agree that there is a lot of unnecessary sharing going on out there in Facebook land, most of which can get a bit taxing. Still, Koenig’s argument that this sort of behavior should be pointed at and mocked because of how lame and awkward it is doesn’t make sense. Why, you ask. The reason is because like it or not, Facebook as a whole is lame and awkward.

Now before you tilt your head to the side and call me a few names under you breath, just hear me out.

Facebook does serve several key functions in everyday life, such as:

• Finding an old  acquaintance that will let you crash on their couch when you visit New York next month.
• Stalking ex-lovers to see if they got fat.
• Finding out what time the church bean supper is.

And while all of these are great, Facebook is still lame. But how is that possible, you ask. Let’s look at just a few of the many reasons Facebook is both lame and awkward:

• Facebook is nine years old, making it now too old to be cutting edge but not old enough to develop hipster cred.
• It provides people with a platform to shout complete ignorance about politics, guns, race, sexuality and religion.
• At its core, Facebook is a  company involved in data collection and ad sales (there is nothing remotely cool about that).
• It is a platform for dissemination of chain letters.
• According to The Atlantic Facebook could be making us lonelier.
• Many businesses beg for you to follow them on Facebook while not doing much to earn your loyalty.
• You mother is on Facebook (awkward).
• Chances are your grandmother is on there, too, and commenting ”LOL” on the pictures of you wasted last weekend at karaoke.
• Walmart has a Facebook page.
• Walmart’s latest post (at the time of me writing this) is about Listerine.

With all the evidence stacked up against Facebook it’s hard to sit back and think that it could be cool. But the point of this post is not to bash on Facebook for being lame, it’s to embrace the lameness.

People like Blair Koenig are living in the past. They remember a time when Facebook was for college kids who wanted to post pictures of empty liquor bottles and themselves wearing ridiculous hats. Facebook is no longer for those people. Facebook in its current form exists for the awkward, socially-stunted and overly-proud parents.

So I call on you helicopter moms and stay-at-home caregivers; daddy bloggers and super moms; all of you who left your modesty on the floor of the delivery room along with a bunch of other gross stuff; to over share your butts off. Armed with nothing but a smartphone and pride, post your diaper stories, your sick child stories, and all the photos and video you can take. As someone with a Facebook page dedicated to this blog and a YouTube page with nothing but ridiculous videos of my son, I refuse to use discretion and better judgement when posting to Facebook. Besides, what else could I put up that my mother will like?

roses, lilies, geraniums and tulips now surround the house which was formally surrounded by overgrown (and ugly) shrubs

My neighbors marveled at how much I was up to and thanked me for sprucing up the house I had bought thereby removing it as the eyesore on the street and increasing everyone’s property value.

I spent the last several years working on the landscaping around my house. This includes, but is not limited to: a deck, rock patio, stone fireplace, new shrubs, a raised flower bed, vegetable gardens, planting trees, seeing grass, raising the soil level, reshaping the driveway, adding parking, fixing fencing and putting in horseshoe pits.

The original deck looked more like some sort of pirate ship feature. I replaced it with a large composite deck with 2 staircases making my backyard a place where I could grill and hang out with company.

To say that the addition of a little guy running around has slowed this progress would be an understatement. Last summer (before he could walk) it was all I could do to keep the grass mowed. With the exception of my tomatoes, the gardens were overrun by weeds. The blackberries spread out and took over the entire back yard. The rose bushes went un-pruned and vines crept in and choked out many of my other plants. Grass grew up in the driveway and through the hardscape in the back yard rendering my once pristine lawn into a congested jungle fit for neither man nor beast.

the old backyard was a swampy disaster. By raising the soil level and adding hardscape I enjoy it a lot more now.

This summer is shaping up to follow the same path. I didn’t get my Christmas decorations fully down until early April (much to the displeasure of me neighbors). At this rate. I should plan on putting them back out Labor Day weekend just to make sure they are up in time for Santa to squeeze his fat behind down my chimney. It took me two weeks to get the backyard raked and cleaned up. It will take a few more to get the front and side done. I might as well just wait for the leaves to change color and fall at that point.

Plus beyond the regular maintenance there are all sorts of new projects. Safety issues like putting up a gate in the garage and making sure all the tools and equipment in the shop are out of reach (I have been known to leave skill saws lying around). I will need to put rails up on my deck. It’s something I knew that someday I would always have to do but it will have to happen soon to keep my son from diving head first off the deck to the ground 3 feet below. Staying out of the emergency room on sunny summer days is always a priority.

The boy enjoying his slide in the backyard on an early spring day

Finally, as a token of goodwill, I will be taking up my horseshoe pits. The pits were one of the first projects I did after buying the house. There is just something to be said for spending an afternoon with friends barbecuing meat, drinking beer and throwing pieces of metal through the air. That iconic image, a staple of a carefree summer day.

The pits will be replaced with a sandbox playhouse for my son and one of those tractors that he can sit on and use to dig in the dirt.

The change is not a complaint though. In fact, I think the removal of the horseshoe pits is a symbol of growth. A recognition on my part that the backyard is not just mine, but a place for my family to enjoy as well. And who knows, once that tractor is in I may not get much else done this spring as I imagine I will end up playing with it more than my son.

To look at me today, I am a completely different person that I was just a few years ago, mostly because of the birth of my son. You might as well tattoo the word “daddy” on my forehead as it is now the core of who I am (and rightfully so).

With that in mind and because this is my 100th post, here is a list of 100 ways to tell if someone has a small child.

1. None of their work shirts are ironed.
2. They look tired.
3. Most conversations contain the words “throw up.”
4. They have not seen the movie you are talking about.
5. They know what Abby Cadabby is.
6. They know the theme song to the PBS show “Martha Speaks.”
7. They have not been to that new restaurant everyone seems to like.
8. There are perpetually three piles of laundry in their laundry room needing to be washed.
9. There is a Baby Bullet where the margarita machine used to be.
10. They actually listen to you when you talk about your kids.
11. Their eyes fill with tears when they see commercials with kids growing up in them.
12. They own a Subaru (a van means more than one child).
13. They do not wear anything that is shiny.
14. They hum “Wheels on the Bus” unintentionally.
15. When alone at the grocery store, they take their sweet ass time (my dad was king of this growing up).
16. Their pantry is stocked with a year’s supply of Ritz crackers.
17. They yawn at 7:30 p.m.
18. They yawn at 2:30 p.m.
19. OK, they yawn all the time.
20. They used to listen to music loud all the time, now they respect quiet.
21. They have not been on a trip requiring more than four or five hours in a car in years.
22. They have things like “Family Day at the Y” written on their calendar.
23. They have to plan out a 45 minute drink with you two weeks in advance (and you better not frigging cancel).
24. They know what time the local Rite Aid opens and closes.
25. They have cartoon characters on the band aids in their medicine cabinet.
26. They used to love “30 Rock” — but now it’s on too late.
27. They watch “Saturday Night Live” at work on Monday morning.
28. They have pile of dress/dancing shoes collecting dust in the back of the closet.
29. Saturday is sweatpants and ball cap day.
30. They are perpetually 15 minutes late to work.
31. They are perpetually 20 minutes late to work when carrying in an extra large coffee.
32. They get a cold in the fall. Every fall.
33. They can’t remember more than a handful of players on any Boston team.
34. They don’t buy nice furniture.
35. The only books they are currently reading have rhyming titles and pictures on every page.
36. They buy the big bag of string cheese at the grocery store.
37. Their vehicle interior is covered in a layer of cookie crumbs.
38. The color of that same vehicle’s interior appears to be juice stain.
39. They view photos as a perfectly acceptable gift for someone.
40. They get overly opinionated about school funding.
41. They are up to speed on what is happening with BPA regulation.
42. They often have food stains at knee level.
43. Their idea of a night out is drive-thru Dairy Queen and a trip to Target.
44. They shop at Target in the first place.
45. They love Target.
46. They perpetually “like” photos of children on Facebook.
47. They have little stick people decals on the back of their SUV.
48. They bought the stick people decals at Target.
49. They sort of know that North Korea is doing something and someone doesn’t like it.
50. They read half of this list then had to stop and clean up the spill their child just made in the kitchen.
51. The last CD they bough was the one by Adele (her first one).
52. When asked if they had a good weekend, they have to think really hard before answering.
53. They have very strong beliefs about sunblock.
54. They get excited about tax season.
55. They are more excited about the circus coming to town than this year’s Waterfront Concert lineup.
56. They seem to have family visiting them….a lot.
57. They have weird, illegible shapes drawn in crayon taped up around their work station.
58. You overhear them on the phone saying, “They did what? What color was it? I’ll be right there to pick them up.”
59. After you hear that phone call you don’t see them for three days.
60. They own several pocket-sized bottles of hand sanitizer.
61. They stare longingly at you as you describe you recent trip to Mexico.
62. They tweet hashtags like #DadProblems and #Odark30.
63. They have used up all their sick and vacation time by mid-February.
64. They have the Baby MD app on their phone in between Angry Birds and Words With Friends.
65. They never finish playing Words With Friends with you.
66. Their in-home liquor cabinet has been reduced to half a bottle of puckers and a lime that went bad months ago.
67. They now keep that bottle of puckers locked up.
68. You text them at 8:30 p.m. and they don’t respond until 6 a.m.
69. They are texting you at 6 a.m. (like you’re up).
70. They cancel on you for golf because they need to mow the lawn — “It’s out of control.”
71. They nod in affirmation when someone talks about how they won in a battle with their child.
72. They show up to work in outfits that don’t match.
73. They talk about retirement like it will never happen.
74. They know what time the sun comes up.
75. They have errands to do on their lunch break — EVERY day.
76. They scrapbook.
77. They can cook any meal in 25 minutes or less.
78. They can’t remember the last time they got to enjoy that 25-minute meal.
79. They have the doctors, pharmacies, and ER numbers programmed into their phones.
80. They read parenting blogs.
81. They share parenting blogs on Facebook.
82. They secretly hate parents who have the time and ego to blog.
83. They ignore movie release dates and look for Redbox release dates.
84. They have a desk full of candy because they can’t have it at home.
85. They close their eyes and smile when eating the desk candy.
86. They don’t like to share the desk candy.
87. They don’t like to go places where the crowd will be too big.
88. Along with crowds, they also don’t really do lines.
89. Unless the line is to see Santa at the mall.
90. They know there is a difference between gymboree the class and Gymboree the store.
91. They use words like gymboree.
92. “Play date” is not used in a funny sexual way.
93. They have at least six different home improvement projects going.
94. They will only ever finish half of those projects.
95. They look forward to Mothers/Fathers Day.
96. They have Cheerios stashed in their glove box.
97. The used to have houseplants.
98. Statistically,  they have lower blood pressure than you (I know right).
99. Also, research shows they will outlive you.
100. They have spent the last year or two raising a child and that outweighs all the silly little things on this list.

When I was in his shoes there were people there to tell me it was going to be great, that everything would work out, that I would be great at being a dad. They were all correct. Part of me thinks I should tell my friend the same sorts of words.

But I’m not going to.

Instead, I’m going to give him a little advice on what to do with the time he has left. My friend’s life is going to take a wonderful turn in a few months, but for now there are plenty of things he should do. This advice is for him and anyone else who will be experiencing parenthood for the first time.

Get outside. Spend the summer hiking, biking, swimming, running, camping and doing all those other wonderful activities. It will be a few years before your child is old enough for you to enjoy all these activities with them, so get a few extra weekends in now.

Listen to loud music. Crank up your favorite grunge albums in the house, go see local shows, spend the extra money to catch your favorite summer tour when it stops in Boston. Just remember not to plan any of this for when your wife is getting close to her due date. You won’t want to miss holding her hand because your crowd-surfing at a Muse show.

Take your wife to the movies. Do it often. Buy popcorn, sneak in candy and catch the big summer blockbusters. Go even if there is nothing good playing. But don’t go to the sketchy theater with the uncomfortable seats, or to anything longer than two hours (your wife will appreciate that).

Have expensive beer when you are out at dinner. Actually, have two (you have a driver for the next 9 months).

Read pregnancy books so you at least have an idea of what that demon you planted in your wife’s stomach is doing. But don’t read them before bed. These books are all the same. Each chapter starts with a few bullet points of how your baby’s development is going, then it goes on for 20 pages about all catastrophic shit that will definitely be wrong with your child. It’s enough to keep you up for hours at night worried your child will come out with two tails and their heart on the outside of their chest.

Don’t spend a lot of time deciding on a middle name. No one will use it and it doesn’t matter very much. Think of it more like the mistake name, or the runner up. I spent weeks thinking about my son’s before going with the middle name Stone. I love the name but I never use it. So don’t worry about it. That family name that you hate inserts itself very nicely in the middle. Or have a little fun. For a girl go with Rain, Meadow or Ke$ha. For a boy maybe something like Megatron or T2R9.

Buy all the stuff you need to baby proof, but don’t put any of it up. Your kid won’t be able to hold its head up, let along run down a flight of stairs or drink dishwasher detergent fresh out of the womb, so you have time. Plus, cabinets that don’t open and baby gates are annoying so you will want them up as little as possible.

Say the F-word a lot. Get it out of your system.

Go to your favorite restaurant twice before your child is born. Go once and have a great meal with your family, friends and wife. Then go once just before your child is born and order something off the menu you hate. If you like everything, then order your steak overdone. This will help you to not miss it so much all those nights you’re eating cold cereal at home in between diaper changes.

Go to parenting classes. If for no other reason then to look around the room and wonder which pregnancies were planned and which were a surprise.  Make it a fun game you play with your wife. It will also help you to remember that you are not alone.

Finally, breathe. It is going to be great. It won’t always seem like it. There will be some dark days ahead where you doubt everything, but that all passes. Parenting is truly a wonderful gift that is impossible to understand until you are one. It sounds cliche but it’s true. So relax because your going to be a father……and that is an awesome thing.

It’s the dog’s food.

The dog’s food and water bowls, in all their glory

That’s right, that shiny metallic bowl in the kitchen that sits on the floor filled with those brown and red kibbles that are so interesting. So irresistible are they that my son insists on picking them up and depositing them in his mouth.

Doors can be closed, stairs gated off, cabinets childproofed. But dog food — that is left out in the open and defenseless. If my son is being quiet, there is a good chance he is in the dog food. If he is running, most likely it’s the dog food he is running for.

The immediate impulse is to shriek and say, “NO,” or “PUT THAT DOWN.” But let’s be real, the kid is 13 months old. I can’t exactly ground him.

I also can’t just pull him away and tell him to leave it alone. I can’t take away his beloved dog food and replace it with nothing — what does that teach him other than he can’t have this cool thing?

So the tactic has become redirection. The art of redirecting his interest in the dog food to something else in hopes that he will find the new object more interesting and eventually leave the dog food alone on his own.

I’m no expert on parenting. I have a stack of parenting books and haven’t cracked one open in about two months. So in the long run, this may not work, but it seems to be worth a try.

Redirection to my son means replacing something good with something great, and is really just to keep him from crying and to keep me sane. But for me, it means something a little different.

I’m a worrier, easily frustrated and a bit of a stress ball.  And you can ask just about anyone and they will tell you that I have become something of a grumpy (insert naughty word) in the past year. Truth be told, trying to be a father, employee, homeowner, friend, family man, responsible adult and handyman has taken its tole. Some of this I have shared in this blog, some I have unleashed on those around me, and a lot of it I have internalized in all those unhealthy ways that don’t really work.

So, I have been trying to use the technique of redirection on myself.

In my head there is always the “life sucks” movie montage playing. It’s a continuous loop of all the things I can’t control,  wish were different or fear for the future of. I can choose to focus on this and let it control my life. I can let it suck the joy out of each and every day before they even start. I can even focus on this so much that I completely shut down, push everyone away and burn my life to the ground.

But who wants to live like that? So I am choosing to try and redirect away from this to the good stuff. Rather than focus on how much work sucks this week, I am focusing on the great trip to Sugarloaf I recently took and the time I will be spending with my son soon. Rather than focusing on how much putting rails on my deck will cost I am focusing on how nice it will be when I’m out there manning the BBQ while my son is running around in the summer sun. Instead of focusing on how stressful and time consuming my job is, I choose to be thankful for the opportunity to have a job where I can lead and be creative.

I have been trying this redirection approach for about a month and though I still have my moments (some days I have several), I feel better. I feel better about my family and the direction I am taking in life. I feel energized about projects that I have been dreading. I feel blessed to have the son I have instead of being burdened by the responsibilities of parenting.

Putting this out there to you doesn’t feel like a cry for help, but more an affirmation that everything is going to be OK. Life is going to continue to happen and I will take it all step by step, work hard when I have to and enjoy the time that I get in return. Because just like my son, I, too want to be distracted by something better. I want to be able to recognize the truly wonderful things in life… And I want my son to stay out of the dog food.

My son taking a nap looks less like napping and more like whining to get out of his crib. This is not his most flattering face.

Anarchy. Pure chaos. Armageddon. These are all ways to describe what happens when your child decides that they would like to make a slight modification to their napping schedule.

For the last six months, my son has been an exceptionally good sleeper. Credit for this should be given to his mother who has worked tirelessly to keep him on a routine. Wake up between 5 and 6 a.m., first nap around 9 a.m., second nap around 1 p.m. and then bedtime by 7 p.m. Every day followed this very predicable pattern… and it was good.

I subscribe to the theory that if it ain’t broken, don’t fix it. Obviously, Tristan has yet to learn this pearl of wisdom because he decided that it was time for a change.

The real pisser is that he didn’t even consult us first. There was no meeting to discuss a new nap schedule, no email explaining his plan, no graphed out mood projections for me to review before coming to a decision. He just up and changed the game.

For the past few weeks, Tristan has decided that two naps will no longer be necessary and is only napping once a day.  Let me repeat that. My son is now only napping once a day!

As parents, we went though the stages of grief that someone who has just experienced a tragic loss might experience. And why wouldn’t we? We were grieving for the loss of that additional hour of “no Tristan time.”

First was denial. We refused to believe that this was happening. We tried to stick to the proven schedule. We somehow managed to get him to take his first nap but the afternoon nap was just not happening. “It’s just a weird day or two,” my wife and I said to each other.  ”This will pass, stick to the schedule.” It did not pass.

The second stage was anger. How dare this baby defy us! Doesn’t he know what is good for him? He can’t make it through the day on just one nap. What are we supposed to do, start getting him ready for bed at 4 in the afternoon? This is outrageous!

The third stage is bargaining. “OK, Tristan, please just nap a little now and then again this afternoon. If you do that I promise that you can have all the cheese and cheerios you want for dinner. Please, just let’s go back to the way things used to be.”

The fourth step is depression. It’s depressing to know that when I get home from work there is a very slim chance that my once happy son will still be in a good mood. He will be tired and hungry, unreasonable and quick to hysterical tantrums. His mother is battling the loss of some of the only free moments she has in the day. Going from two naps to one cuts in half the amount of things she can accomplish. Bills, laundry, projects, research, showers, planning and cooking dinner — you name it, there is less time.

Finally, acceptance. Yeah, nope —  I’m still grieving.

I wish my son would realize the error in his decision to nap less. I wish he could see that while it may seem great to be running around like a crazy toddler all afternoon, it drastically effects his (and our) evenings. I wish I could talk some sense into him, but he just won’t be reasoned with. So the rest of us have to grit our teeth and deal with the repercussions of his actions until he gets a bit older. For the time being, I see a lot of cold dinners and 6 p.m. bedtimes in the future. Wish us luck.