Babies From The Gut
Today's post is dedicated to all those dads-to-be out there. Please don't let it scare you. Hope you enjoy reading about all my delivery room foibles. Happy Friday to you.
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Babies From The Gut
If anyone has any doubts about how to raise a baby, they are living in the right day and age. It seems there are more resources, studies and products available for expecting couples than ever before. This is a far cry from my parent’s time when Dr. Spock covered all the baby care bases, and my mom treated rashes caused by my reusable diapers with a grayish cancer-causing cream while dad smoked Marlboros a few feet away.
In the years that followed, awareness for a baby’s wellbeing increased, and being the hipsters they were, my parents kept up with the trends. In preparation for my sister’s arrival, for example, they slapped a thick coat of oil-base paint on my old crib to cover the chipped up lead-based layer I had gnawed on while teething. And toddlers would no longer be permitted to stand on the front seat of dad’s truck as I had; instead, my sisters would be securely strapped into something referred to as an “infant car seat,” a contraption that, as I recall, resembled a torture devise from SAW III.
Read the final part of "Babies From the Gut" at Houston B.A.B.Y.Magazine
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This post brought to you by the fine folks at Dad-Blogs and their Fatherhood Friday series.
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