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.
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