There are things I still can’t get into the groove with our newborn- wait, is she still a newborn after 1 month? Seemed like the longest month ever so I’m gonna say no to that. I totally am starting to master the art of diaper changing. Well, wet diapers only. This daddy don’t like no poopie diaper. And clearly he ain’t a particular fan of no proper English either.

With these diapers you gotta account for an active little girl. Legs flailing at burst of speed towards your groin while you’re trying to fasten the diaper’s sticky latch on the back to the ever moving front part. I’ve now been able to time the left-leg-kick-down means left-latch-on method made possible with no How-To YouTube videos, all while avoiding any more kicks to my vulnerable crotch. Now if only I can time any surprise pees I’d be a master.

This chick won’t stop crying? Ah, no worries.


Oops, wrong picture. But a lesson to you, Baby Rangirl. Don’t drink or else you’ll be left in a ditch by your friends planted face-first to the asphalt of a foreign country. Like New Jersey or worse, New Jersey. Ah right, here we go-


The Foo Fighters (or anything with a guitar) playing on TV. Homegirl loves her some rocker boys. Uh oh. But with some of these learned tricks of the trade come some follies still. Things I need to teach myself to stop on my end.

For example, lay off the Howard Stern. Holy crap is that hard. I’m still using him on the iPhone to put our kid to sleep. Forget music, white noise apps, me singing- none sooth us both more than a familiar voice. Sigh. Fairwell former life.

Also – the nakedness. I walk around my bedroom after having started the shower to scavenge for a bar of soap or clothes that forgot to bring into the bathroom. And I forget we have our daughter sleeping in the same room as the bathroom. Farewell freedom.

Naturally with listening to Howard Stern comes foul language.

“Stop acting like a dog whose gender is determined as female,” I’d tell my wife. Granted, this is one of ten that I successfully censor myself.

“Did you just call me a bitch, you douche?” Mommy Ranman balances me out.

With the change of the wind you’d catch Mommy Ranman covering Baby Rangirl’s ears and eyes when characters on TV are getting intimate and swearing up a storm and she’d say “holy heck!”

“‘Heck’? Wow, well played.”

“I gotta resort to white people phrases now.”

Farewell speech and “poopie”.