Podcast Fever

Now that I've been a Dad for almost a year, I have a little bit of perspective. I realize how lucky I am to be married to someone I love. I realize how fortunate I am to have a happy, healthy, growing baby girl. I realize how wonderful it is to read to my daughter, hang out with my dog, and spend some quiet time with my wife.

And I realize how rare and precious alone time really is.

The reality of the situation is that, after you start a small family (a wonderful, beautiful small family), you don't get much time to yourself. At least not as much as you're used to getting. Maybe a quick hour here and a 15-minute block there. And it's usually later at night or early (like, really early) in the morning.

That, of course, means that you want to make the most of these rare minutes to yourself. And for me, in the past year, that has meant podcasts.

I've never really liked talk radio. I'm not sure why, but it never really appealed to me. Then, about a year ago, as I was walking to work listening to some song I'd heard 800 times, I realized how incredibly stupid I was being. What value did it have? Now, don't get me wrong; music is amazing and has this unique power to bring back memories, relax you, or get you going -- depending on your mood. But the same songs over and over and over? It's like watching the same episode of a TV show or the same movie day after day after day. The same lines. Nothing new. No surprises. No, thanks.

Enter podcasts and, for me, podcast fever. Free, funny, interesting, engaging, educational, entertaining -- what's not to love? I started listening to them every day on my commute to work and now find myself sneaking them in whenever I have a spare chunk of time away from Belle and Bridget. (Overcast is my favorite podcast app, in case you're curious.) And since I've been listening religiously for about a year, I thought I'd quickly share my five favorite podcasts:

1. This American Life. No surprise here. If you listen to podcasts, you know this is pretty much the gold standard. Ira Glass's storytelling is as good as it gets.
2. Freakonomics Radio. These two authors -- Dubner and Levitt -- are smart, funny, and thought-provoking. I hadn't thought of it until just now, but I can't think of any two famous people with whom I'd rather have a beer. Is that depressing? This episode is my favorite. 
3. Planet Money. This one is from NPR, which really sets the quality bar for podcasts. Fascinating stories, a great mix of talent, and short shows that are perfect for a quick break at lunch or a quick commute. NPR's Ted Radio Hour and Wait Wait … Don't Tell Me (even without Carl Kasell) are fantastic, too.
4. Slate's The Gist. I was really skeptical about this at first -- it seemed like one dude's typically angry rants -- but this daily show is incredibly entertaining. Mike Pesca, known for NPR sports, is damn funny. One line from a recent show, which was also featured on This American Life: "I should answer Donald Trump's take on science as soon as Donald Trump is asked to comment on my opinion that he is a pompous, overbearing, ignorant windbag who lusts for attention the way a meth-addicted prostitute lusts for his next fix." Great stuff.
5. ESPN: Fantasy Focus: Football. It's that time of the year and, as much as I hate to admit it, I can't get enough of hearing Matthew Berry explain what he's buying or selling this season. It's like a weird drug.  Oh, and speaking of fantasy football, here's a podcast about the only league I'm in this season. It is, by about five galaxies, the worst podcast on this list. But whatever. At least we're putting ourselves out there.

One bonus podcast: The Memory Palace with Nate DiMeo. These are incredibly short, but incredibly engaging. I just wish there were more of them.

The Best 10 Minutes of Every Day

Like most people, I look forward to a few things every day. An invigorating morning workout. A refreshing drink at Starbucks. A kiss from Bridget before she and Belle head out for the day. These things are part of my daily routine, but I do a pretty good job of not taking them for granted. I try my best to stop and realize how lucky I am to experience these fantastic moments and minutes.

This week, I added something to the list, something that, with apologies to Bridget about the scintillating kiss, may darn well be the best part of every day. What, you might wonder, could possibly be better than those tender, rosy lips? Reading to my daughter.

We've read to Belle since the day she was born. In fact, like most parents who do too much research, we read to her when she was still in the womb. (I'm sure we'll point to those moments when she gets an "A" on her first book report.) But Belle, mostly, hasn't really been so into it. In the first six months of her life, she would either cry, fall asleep, or look off in other directions when we tried to share a book with her. And as she's entered the crawling phase in the last couple months, trying to get her to sit still for five minutes is like asking a hungry Oscar to savor each bite of his kibble.

But this week, something changed. All of a sudden, Belle, just before bed, has decided she loves to sit on my lap while I read her two or three books. It's become a habit, a ritual, and it makes me feel like the luckiest guy in the world. More than that, the whole experience, which lasts from about 6:30-6:40 every night, makes me feel like I'm in a Norman Rockwell painting.

We sit in an old rocking chair in the corner of her room. The soft glow of the lamp in the corner gives off just enough light. A cool evening breeze blows in from the street where older kids are yelling and playing. We open one of her favorites, On the Night You Were Born:

On the night you were born, the moon shone with such wonder that the stars peeked in to see you and the night wind whispered, "Life will never be the same ..." 

Belle, sucking away at her pacifier, looks down at the pages and reaches out with her hands. She touches the pictures. I continue and she starts to rub her eyes. Then, we change up the pace and open something a bit lighter, like the literary masterpiece, Yummy, Yucky:

Blueberries are yummy. Blue crayons are yucky. Soup is yummy. Soap is yucky. Ice cream is yummy. Too much ice cream is yucky.

Belle helps turn the pages and occasionally looks up at me while I change my voice depending on whether something is indeed yummy or yucky. Then she yawns and I know it's about that time. We open the final book, Goodnight Moon:

In the great green room, there was a telephone and a red balloon ...

Belle starts to cry a bit and I know my 10 minutes are nearly over. We get as far as we can and then I kiss her for the last time and put her down in her crib. With any luck, she's fast asleep five minutes later. Meanwhile, I leave the room and think about what she and I will read the next night.

And I wonder, as I get on with my evening by cooking dinner and getting ready for another day at work, if she likes the experience even half as much as I do ...