Annabelle Goes to Market Basket

Every Saturday morning, I go grocery shopping. (Yes, of course this is the life I've imagined from a young age.) I almost always go by myself because I really like efficiency. A solo trip takes maybe 45 minutes. A trip with the two adorable, dawdling females in the family would take at least five hours.

But on Saturday, wanting to give Bridget a little time to herself, I volunteered to take Annabelle on her first big grocery shopping trip. 

Since we've moved to the suburbs, we've started going to Market Basket, which is just delightful. Good food, low prices, excellent customer service. The only problem is that it's really, really crowded -- especially on weekend mornings. 

This realization made me nervous as I loaded a somewhat fussy Annabelle, clutching a Curious George doll, into the car at 7:30 AM. Oh well. Off we went:

Parking lot: We pulled into the crowded lot and Annabelle immediately went into the seat in the grocery cart. This, I thought, was a good sign because Annabelle hates sitting in carts at stores. 

Aisle 1: We headed for the cheeses and yogurts, two popular items in our house. I grabbed a bag of shredded parmesan cheese. "Annabelle's!" Annabelle yelled, as she reached for the bag. I gave it to her. I grabbed some kid yogurts. "Annabelle's!" Annabelle yelled, as she reached for the container. This is going to be a long trip.

Deli: As Annabelle sucked down the blueberry yogurt, I saw a great opportunity for interaction at the deli: "Annabelle," I said. "Do you want to pick a number so we can get more cheese?" She smiled. She pulled number 9 and number 2 showed  on the screen, which gave us time for our first random conversation.

Kind woman #1: "She's so cute. How old is she?"

Me: "Oh, thanks. She's almost 2."

Kind woman #1: "Oh, and I love her Curious George doll. My daughter loves that, too. Where did you get that, sweetie?"

Annabelle: (Silence) 

Me: "We got that in Harvard Square. There's a really nice store down there ..." 

Aisle 4: With the deli, the longest part of the experience, behind us, I had high hopes we were on our way. But as we picked out some granola, I heard the dreaded sound: "Up! Up! Up!" I cringed. "Oh, you don't want to be in the seat anymore, Annabelle?" She started at me. "Up! Up! Up!" Crap. I pulled her out, carried her with one arm and steered the cart with the other. This is going to be a really long trip.

Aisle 10: As we picked up some pouches (one of which Annabelle devoured; her second "treat" of the trip), she had mercifully decided she would walk. "Just stay with Dad," I said, as I grabbed several bottles of addictive Polar seltzer water. 

Kind woman #2: "Oh, how cute. I love her hair."

Me: "Say thank you, sweetie."

Annabelle: (Silence)

Me: "Thanks. That's very nice of you. We like it, too!"

Aisle 12: We saw a huge display of Goldfish. "Fishies!" Seconds later, Annabelle was walking around with her own bag of cheddar fish, treat No. 3. Smiles followed us (mostly her) as we turned toward the busiest part of the store. 

The frozen section: In between fistfuls of fish, Annabelle started holding my hand as the cart traffic picked up. I ducked into the freezers to get some waffles and then some mini raviolis, which delighted Annabelle: "Daddy's IN there!" I grabbed some ice cream. "Daddy's INNN there!" She couldn't stop laughing, which means I couldn't laughing. 

Fruits and vegetables: Enough fun. The fruit and vegetable section is essentially a war zone in Market Basket. Determined suburban moms in workout clothes, dads with complicated grocery lists, young kids "learning how to steer," and older folks carefully finding the perfect tomato. Carts were everywhere. One hand on the cart, one hand in Annabelle's, we weaved and darted our way to nectarines, cucumbers, and crisp green peppers. 

Tired dude: "How old is she?"

Me: "Almost 2."

Tired dude: "Yeah, I have four-year-old twins, so I can't bring them grocery shopping."

Me: "Oh, god. That must be tough."

Tired dude: "Yeah. Yeah, it is ..."

With our cart full, we headed for checkout. I picked up speed as I grabbed Annabelle's hand. Then, suddenly, she pulled.

"Oh, no. I dropped my Goldfish, Dad," shouted a nice couple. I cringed and looked back. No Goldfish on the ground, so I quickly grabbed the bag, smiled at the couple, and headed toward checkout lane #8. 

I expected a mini tantrum because the cashier had to scan the Goldfish, but it never came. Annabelle even volunteered to hold my hand as we walked across the parking lot, something that has proved very challenging in recent weeks. Sure, she took off running when I put the cart back, but, all in all, it was a wildly successful trip. 

Total trip time: 70 minutes. But the extra 25 minutes were the best ones of the day. 

22 Reasons Why I Love Father's Day

I'm not big on holidays. On the whole, they are stressful, outdated, and commercialized. And Halloween is just damn silly.

But for two years now, I've loved Father's Day.

I know what you might be thinking: You're a Dad. Of course you love Father's Day. You're so selfish. Go mow the lawn. 

But I love Mother's Day, too. In fact, I love any day that celebrates our little family, which, of course, includes Oscar's birthday. (He'll be 9 (in dog years) and 63 (in human years) next month.)

On this Father's Day morning, I thought it would be a perfect time to share 22 reasons why I love today:

1. Annabelle slept through the night last night, which was the first time in two months. (What a gift!)
2. It's a holiday that doesn't require gifts.
3. It's a chance to scroll through our growing collection of Daddy-Daughter selfies.
4. It's a chance to remember last week's nap in Aruba, the best one of my life. (See the picture at the bottom in the middle.)
5. It's the best thing Richard Nixon ever did. Richard Nixon? Yes, he officially signed the holiday into law in 1972. 
6. It's another morning of waking up to a beautiful wife.
7. I get to hold my daughter's hand. (That's a treat every time.)
8. I get to try to put my daughter's hair into a ponytail, which is really, really difficult.
9. I'll spend a few minutes remembering the moment I became a dad.
10. The quiet time of typing this blog post while listening to a conversation about when it's appropriate to use the potty. (You should have to pee or poop; we don't just flush the toilet.)
11. No chores for Dad.
12. Oscar, tired from a week at the kennel, lying down under my chair.
13. This commercial showing new dads hearing the big news.
14. Annabelle. Slept. THROUGH. The. Night.
15. Hearing Daddeeeeee when I woke up.
16. Constantly hearing the most innocent, carefree laugh in the entire world.
17. I get to watch the final round of the U.S. Open this afternoon.
18. Knowing that I'll totally be watching Frozen this afternoon. And being totally fine with that.
19. That laugh again.
20. I get to drink a bottle of the best beer in the world.
21. I get to try to be a better dad than I was yesterday. And the day before that. And the day before that ...
22. I have the most wonderful daughter in the world.

Happy Father's Day. Enjoy every moment.

The Best Parenting Book I've Read

In a world of 140-character tweets, six-second vines, and snapshot #TBTs, I still think there's incredible valuable in immersing myself deep in the pages of good book. ("Pages" is a loose term, as I switched to a Kindle about five years ago. Tradition, smell of books, feel of the paper, blah, blah. Get with the times, dinosaur. Kindles are better.) My mostly non-fiction reading diet consists of sports, history, and business books, which probably doesn't come as a surprise if you know me. Those things are pretty much my jam.

But a couple years ago, I added another genre to my list: baby books. Or, rather, parenting books. I read, mainly, to educate myself and I had an awful lot to learn (I still do, in fact) about what I was in for as a Dad.

And just recently, I finished the best book I've read about parenting and kids: Overwhelmed: Work, Love, and Play When No One Has the Time. 

Before I get to why that one stands above the rest, here's a short list of five others I've read:
The Happiest Baby on the Block: Pretty much required reading for new parents. You could just look up the 5s and probably get the same benefit, but it does provide confidence about how in the world you're going to calm the tiny screaming monster in your arms. I read this one four months before Annabelle was born.
Be Prepared: A Practical Handbook for New Dads: Good tips for new dads in a short, practical format. I actually referred to this one quite a bit during the early days.
Dude, You're a Dad. Horrible. I'm not even going to include a link. Don't waste your time.
Dr. Dan's Last Word on Babies and Other Humans: Weird, at times, but oddly comforting, too. It made me realize I was probably going to be okay. And so far, I have been. Our pediatrician (who we like an awful lot) recommended this one, so it was a must-read.
Do Fathers Matter? What Science Is Telling Us About the Parent We've Overlooked: I had such high hopes, but it turned out to be dry, lifeless page after dry, lifeless page. Some bright spots here and there, but a big disappointment.

After that last one, I took some time off from the baby books for a while because they were starting to repeat and contradict themselves. Books on similar topics tend to do that. But I picked up Overwhelmed, by Washington Times reporter Brigid Schulte, and was hooked from Page 1.

The basic idea of the book is that we're all too damn busy to focus on the most important things in our lives -- that parents, in particular, have very little leisure time. The author weaves engaging narratives and fascinating studies, and provides practical guidance on how we can lead better lives as parents, partners, and workers. The idea of working in pulses to stay productive has already helped me a great deal.

I highlighted several passages in the book (which I can reference easily with my Kindle) and one really stuck with me. The author is talking about her husband, an NPR correspondent, being on assignment overseas in a tough area. She writes: "In my world of crashing deadlines, teacher phone calls, late Girl Scout forms, forgotten water bills, kids' stomachaches, and empty cupboards, all I could think was: Man, all he has to do every day is go to work."

All he has to do every day is go to work. I remember feeling like that.

In truth, I read Overwhelmed because that was how I've felt lately. Annabelle still isn't sleeping well, work is stressful, and breaks are few and far between. This is particularly scary because Annabelle is still an only child and is a smiling ball of fun 90% of the time. What happens if and when we have another little one? What happens when Annabelle turns 13 and hates me?

After I tell a tale about getting up five times in a night, thrown up on, or worse, my friends who aren't parents often ask me, "How do you do it?" Like most parents, I answer, "You just do it." But "it" is really damn hard sometimes. It's hard to convince your child to eat a healthy meal. It's hard to sleep with a foot in your ribs. It's hard to explain why 40 degrees is too cold to go outside. It's hard, and I know I'm incredibly fortunate to lead a somewhat privileged life.

I did my best to put things in perspective as I was reading the book, but it wasn't until the end when it really hit me: "Recognize that children do, indeed, grow quickly. And that the moment to stop and notice and enjoy is now. And now. And now."

So that's what I'm going to go do. Right now.