What a long week. Oh wait, the baby isn’t even a week yet? A month hasn’t passed already? Where am I? What day is it? Do we still have a multi-race president? Is our daughter eligible to be president yet?

Sorry, I’m a bit discombobulated. The past 6 days have felt like 1 very long hour. I by far have gotten more sleep than Mommy Ranman, and I feel guilty for each extra minute I out-sleep her. So if I’m discombobulated (such a funky word) that makes Mommy Ranman supersizedbobulated for having to wake up every 2 hours to feed our little Rangirl for almost 1 hour. If you do the math that gives her maybe an hour’s worth of sleep between feedings assuming she is able to sleep on demand.

The hospital people recommended that in addition to Mommy Ranman doing skin-to-skin contact often with our baby, Daddy Ranman should also get in on the skin contacting with my girl. And that is just not likely. Sure, it may prevent future daddy issues- but the only skin my daughter will best get contact with is my back. I’m Indian down the road so that means hair on the chest. And an American-born Indian means at times a manscaped chest which wouldn’t be any more comfy for my daughter.

So the first 6 days have been quite the adjustment when it comes to learning our baby. So far so good though, she hasn’t hit the stripper pole yet so I am mastering this fathering thing. Mommy Ranman and I are super lucky to have her mother home helping where she can for the first week, else I would have had to dip into my vacation days to help when I’d rather save those days for more fun things like taking our daughter to Vegas even though she’s too young to appreciate daddy’s escape from New York and probably too young to even go- so I should just go and have our daughter stay home to protect her well being.

We are slowly catching up on sleep. As long as no hospital staff interrupt us every hour like this past weekend, we only have the baby to really disturb our slumber. A pleasant reminder that we are no longer at the Long Island Jewish Hospital who insisted on wasting our time and neglect their patients. Sorry, the lame experience these arses provided the Mrs. and I still leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. Bitter, New-York-Mets/Jets-fans kind of bitter.

I have been asked a few times now as to what it feels like being a new dad, and I will tell you- it’s more a chore now than anything as we try to establish Project and Task Management flows before we can fully appreciate what we have. Some may say this parenting thing is rough. Some may say. Me being said some.

One must wonder, what do you tell a newborn infant when the internets encourage you talk to them constantly. I am not a high-pitched gibberish kind of talker. So whilst burping or soothing the little girl I bring up what’s going on with the Yankees this offseason as she was born in time for Spring Training. I also constantly remind her that she hearts the Yanks and those beautiful brown eyes stare back at me as if to say “true dat, pops”.

Mommy Ranman’s battle scars from 2 labor trips to the hospital

Our baby, also known as “Kiwi Banana”