The Set List

There are times when a full belly, an empty bladder, a clean diaper, and a pacifier just won’t soothe the FTS. When all else fails, I turn to the set list.

The FTS was born in the evening and delivered via C-section. Because the FTM had the post operative woozies, I stayed on a cot in her hospital room that first night. (The cots are designed by the same company that designs furniture for McDonald’s. They’re purposely made to be comfortable for 20 minutes and 20 minutes only.) The next morning, while the FTS was in the hospital nursery, I made a quick trip home to shower and change. On the way back to the hospital I listened to a mix CD I had made a long time ago, long before I was thinking about babies and how to quell their anxieties.

When I got back to the hospital, I found myself holding the FTS and I just started singing to him. I wasn’t singing “Rock-a-Bye Baby,” or “London Bridges,” or any other kids’ song; I was cooing the last tune I’d heard on my mix CD – Seven Spanish Angels as performed by Willie Nelson and Ray Charles:

He looked down into her brown eyes
And said say a prayer for me
She threw her arms around him
Whispered God will keep us free
He could hear the riders coming
He said this is my last fight
If they take me back to Texas
They won’t take me back alive

There were seven Spanish Angels
At the altar of the sun
They were praying for the lovers
In the valley of the gun
When the battle stopped and the smoke cleared
There was thunder from the throne
And seven Spanish angels
Took another angel home.

Even at 17 hours old, the FTS was transfixed. I was the Pied Piper and Saint Peter all rolled into one. Since then, when we need the boy to mellow out, I carry him around the house and sing. Seven Spanish Angels is always the first and/or last song of my performance, but the set list has grown to include:

Amazing Grace (which is truly amazing because I’m agnostic)

Van Diemen’s Land (U2)

Rosie (Jackson Browne)

Two original songs

An original spoken word bedtime story (I’ll save that for a future post)

And Folsom Prison Blues

I spent years playing in a band – I dropped out of college to go on the road – so music is in my soul. But never did I imagine I’d be using music like this. It does get a bit weird when I (really we, because the FTM sings to him, too) change the lyrics. Case in point, the second verse of Folsom Prison Blues:

When I was just a baby
My momma told me son
Always be a good boy
Don’t ever play with guns
But I shot a man in Reno
Just to watch him die
And when I hear that train a-rollin’
I hang my head and cry

becomes…

Now that I’m a baby
My momma tells me son
Always be a good boy
Don’t ever suck your thumb
But I made a poopy diaper
And I don’t know why
When I feel that squishy mess
I hang my head and cry



When I stop and think about the horrible lack of respect we’re showing for such a timeless song, I kind of hang my head and cry, too. My apologies to Johnny Cash and his estate and may the possibly non existent God have mercy on my possibly non existent soul. But hey...you gotta do whatever works.

Barack the Vote

So what business does a parenting blog have spouting off about politics? Shouldn’t I leave it to Daily Kos and Matt Drudge to duke it out? Uh, no. There is no more important bloc of voters in this election than parents. What happens in November will mean everything to my son and his future. But he’s only three and a half weeks old and not yet able to type, so I’m standing up on his behalf to tell you why he’s an Obama baby.

Let me be up front and tell you that I’ve voted with the Democrats in every Presidential election since 1984 (I voted for Reagan that year), and that I vote Democrat in most, though not all, local elections. My politics are left of center and can occasionally feel a bit Libertarian, though I don’t really like what that term connotes.

Let me also tell you that I have a lot of admiration and respect for John McCain. The guy seems to be a thoughtful, dedicated civil servant who has given far more to his country than yours truly. But he plays for the wrong team. He’s kind of like Derek Jeter; you can't help but like him, but there is just no way to root for someone wearing pinstripes.

“Okay, FTF,” you might be asking, “then what’s your problem with the Republicans? They’re for trusting people more than government, and for security, and for personal responsibility. What’s wrong with that?”

Hey, dear reader, that does sound good! Just as good as knowing that my local Wal-Mart really cares about the community, or that the Exxon/Mobil is committed to fighting climate change. In case the sarcasm isn’t coming through, the point is, the Republicans say one thing and do another.

Republicans say they want government to interfere less in the lives of citizens. A noble thought, but:

• Republicans want to tell a woman what she can and cannot do with her body. (Anit-choice)
  
• Republicans want to legislate who can and cannot be married. (Anti-Gay rights)
  
• Republicans want to suppress scientific discovery (stem cell research) and learning (evolution vs. Intelligent Design).
  
• Republicans want to listen to my phone calls and read my emails. (Wiretapping bills)
  
• Republicans want to suppress my right to express my displeasure with the government (Constitutional amendment to outlaw burning a U.S. Flag, even as a form of political protest)
  

The truth is, the Republicans only want smaller government when it comes to taxes, and when it comes to government oversight of big business. (The lower taxes would be fine if the Republicans – when they controlled the presidency, both houses of Congress, the judiciary, and a majority of state governments – didn’t outspend all of the Democrats that preceded them. You need only look at Senator Stevens “Bridge to Nowhere” to understand that the mantra of smaller government is an out and out lie.)

“Okay, FTF, but what about security? The Democrats are soft.” I guess reminding you that Democrats led us into and successfully navigated our way through WWI (Wilson) and WWII (FDR, Truman) won’t much matter. “Old news,” you’ll say. “Fine,” I’ll say back. “But ask yourself if you think the U.S. is safer after eight years of Republican rule.” It’s not. Our position in the world militarily, economically, and diplomatically is weaker than it was eight years ago. We’re mired in a war we had no business fighting (Iraq), never finished a war we had every right to fight (Afghanistan), and are beating the drums of war (Iran) that will further destabilize the Mideast and antagonize the other world powers (Russia, China, India).

“But FTF, the surge in Iraq is working.” Well, duh. Add tens of thousands of troops to any military theater and you’ll make it more secure. But what happens when those troops come home? As I say, well, duh.

Perhaps worst of all, the Republicans, who wrap themselves in the flag and call themselves patriots, are systematically trying to dismantle the Constitution. I’d spout on about Habeas Corpus, but Saramerica already said it better than I possibly could.

I could also go on about the environment and big oil; about the banking industry run amok; about lies and obfuscation of the Bush administration, and on and on and on and on about why I don’t want – can’t let – my son grow up in the world these yahoos want to create. But I think I’ve said enough. If you still don’t get it, maybe this video will help:

The DHD

The DHD

In the 18 days since the FTS was born, I have failed at the following:

• Remembering one my best friend’s Jack & Jill baby shower
  
• Giving my nephew and godson (and one of my favorite people on the planet) a graduation and 18th birthday present
  
• Visiting my parents
  
• Getting enough done at work
  
• Keeping up with posts from my favorite bloggers (Manager Mom, Always Home and Uncool, and the rest of the list off to the left there)
  
• Keeping up with my own non-blog writing projects
  

In short, The FTF has become the DHD – the Dill Hole Dad.

Everyone tells you how much your life will change and how all-consuming parenthood will be, but you just don’t grok until you’re in its midst. When you’re not handling the baby – marveling at every sound, facial expression, and flick of a finger; trying to quell a nascent fit before it gets out of control; feeding, burping, changing, clothing, and fretting over him – you’re doing laundry, washing bottles, reading parenting books, and trying to sleep. And you’re still going to work and mowing the lawn and balancing the checkbook and taking out the trash (which there is now a mountain of) and yadda yadda yadda. How then are we supposed to find time for all the other stuff…the fun stuff?

I don’t know, but find time I will. The last thing the FTS needs is a DHD. I’ve always believed you lead by example, so I think the FTM and I need to figure out how to live active, fun lives, specifically so the FTS sees healthy, well-adjusted parents. (Well, so he sees what appear to be healthy, well-adjusted parents.)

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying we should bring our two week old to a movie, just that we should remember there’s a mommy and daddy life beyond being mommy and daddy. So I say farewell DHD, and welcome back FTF.

Coming next….the FTF gets political.