by Matt Ledoux

Can I just freak you out for a second?

Day care fees…let’s discuss. We’re going to see our first day care place today, and the fee for an infant, age 6 weeks to 15 months, is $2,100/month for 5 days of care. Let’s be generous and say we only get care for 3 days instead of 5 days a week. Not sure how, but just say…that fee is $1,400/month.

We then pay that rate for 15 months until they become a “toddler”–at that point, they are a lot less “expensive” to care for. The fee as a toddler goes down an incredible, $170 a month. (wow, that’s $5.70 a day…thank you, thank you!).

It’s no wonder day care fees are called “tuition” these days.

So for 15 months of “tuition” for an infant, the total daycare cost at 3 days a week? $21,270.

For 5 days a week? $31,890.

That’s a brand new loaded, Toyota Camry V6 every 15 months. Or two new base model Honda Fits.

When they hit the toddler age, day care cost will be a chunky $33,228 for 18 months.

So by the time they are 3 years old and hitting pre-school, you’ve shelled out anywhere from $54,498 to $65,118. That’s in daycare alone. Never mind teddy bears and designer nipple/bottle drying racks.

Does that make anyone else woozy?

“So, what is it?”

“What’s what?”

“What’s the sex of your kid.”

“Kid? Sex? That’s disgusting.”

“No, are you going to find out what your kid is?”

–

How did you go about the whole “finding out the gender” thing?

Does it really make a difference whether it’s a dude or a chick? Is it only so you’ll know what color to paint the nursery?

My wife led the charge on not wanting to find out (and this was amusing coming from the girl who got busted for sneaking peeks at her Christmas presents). She explained, “It’s going to be one of the very few, true surprises in life.” I wasn’t so convinced at first; not only because I thought it might be fun to know, but also because we could narrow our search for baby names by half.

I asked, “On the day of the birth, isn’t the mind-bogglingness of a baby going to overshadow any surprise we might get from finally knowing its gender?” To which she gave me “the look.” But after some time and several people asking, I found myself beginning to like not knowing. That little extra air of mystery has somehow become gratifying. Besides, whatever it turns out to be, I won’t have a clue how to take care of it.

During the anatomy scan at 5months, we took special care to inform the technician and doctor that we didn’t want to know the gender. And when the monitor showed images of the baby’s crotch area, I looked away, not wanting to get any clues. It appears I’m now all-aboard the not-knowing train.

How did you go about it? Were you glad you did or didn’t find out beforehand?

Yes, you’ve likely seen/heard about this a million times. Consider this a million and one. It may just be the only worthwhile twitter out there.

Shit My Dad Says

A small sample:

“No presents goddamit. I’m turning 74. I don’t need you to commemorate that with a fucking Barnes and Noble gift card.”

“I just want silence. Jesus, it doesn’t mean I don’t like you. It just means right now, I like silence more.”

“The baby will talk when he talks, relax. It ain’t like he knows the cure for cancer and he just ain’t spitting it out.”

STEER CLEAR OR REVERE? REVERE

Baby has a routine. When she goes down for a nap, she gets 5 oz. of warmed milk in a bottle. (No, we still haven’t broken her of that at 16 mos). Every time I prepare it, I either put a bit too much or a bit too little milk in the pan. So, this week I took an awl (a.k.a. phillips head screwdriver) and hammered a small divot into the side of the two little pans we use for this task.

The divot is unobtrusive (you might be able to see it in the picture at right just below the spout), but I use it as a guide for a perfect pour every time.

What little shortcuts are you creating to keep from going baby-insane?

Some of you have probably traveled as much if not more than you did before you had kids. Others, not so much.

We all still very much want to “get away.” But now more than ever, this means bringing the family along. One of my dreams is to travel across the country for a year with the kids and a trailer in tow. Yes, a trailer. Just as architects are giving new life (and better looks) to pre-fabricated homes, a couple of Austrian’s have come up with a kick-ass caravan.

[Learn/see more at www.mehrzeller.com]

I hope that by the time our kids are old enough to appreciate it, these trailers will be gracing our interstate system. Granted, the thought of travel is always more enticing than the realities of it–pumping out a family of four’s worth of sewage at a Jellystone Park doesn’t sound so romantic. As Paul Theroux, the great travel writer said, “”Travel is glamorous only in retrospect.”

Where are you guys headed in the near or somewhat distant future?

Being an expecting dad has freaked me out, for sure. But really, the biggest test for me thus far has been “The Registry.”

Even though I don’t have to be in attendance for the baby shower (thank god), the registry has me totally losing my sh*t.

It’s mostly because I’m just now realizing the amount of stuff we will be accumulating (plus the fact that we don’t have any extra space to speak of here in NYC). But I’m sure on a deeper level, it’s more because this baby is going to change our lives fully/irrevocably/forever.

As far as practicality goes, I understand the need for registries. The hens are going to buy you stuff either way. And if you don’t register, your weird Aunt is going to buy you something so horrible and embarrassing that you’ll have to dispose of it in a dumpster the next town over.

Really, how much stuff does this little person need (beyond a breast and protection from the elements/wolves)? Didn’t it feel like we got by with FAR less when were kids way back when? I don’t recall having half the items I’m seeing on the Target or Giggle registries.

Some men are totally hands-off, and I’m sure that’s the right move to preserve one’s sanity. But I can’t seem to stay out of it. For some reason, this item really got my ire up and I had to put my foot down.

A baby bottle/nipple drying rack? For crying out loud, we already HAVE a dish rack! Our current one may not be “clever” or “innovative”, but it’s a dish rack nonetheless.

How about you? Did you distance yourself from this process, become enraged by it, or go all zen-like?

One of the first responsibilities for expecting parents is naming the baby. It’s easy to see why this is cause for a ton of contention: the poor bugger’s going to be strapped to it for the rest of their life. Unless, of course, they change it themselves–like a dude I knew in high school who magically transformed from “Chris” to “Qris”, or the chap I worked with who went from “Steven” to “Seven” (yes, the number).

Finding the right name’s like strolling through a minefield. There are family names your mom wants you to use. Cute nicknames that are funny–for an hour. We’ve all spent some quality time with baby-naming websites or the classic paperback book “55,000+ Baby Names” by Bruce Lansky (love that the author is named “Bruce”) with over 700 pages of not-so-great ideas. To illustrate, just now I just opened a page at random and found “Turquoise.” Most kids can spell their name by, what, five years of age? That poor girl Turquoise may NEVER get it right.

Sure I want to pick a good name. But at 4.5 months from d-day, it doesn’t seem like the highest priority. Does it even need to be named at birth? Is it required for a birth certificate? What if the name doesn’t “fit” and you want to change it?

We all have to be rigorous about our choice of a name. It has to pass so many tests and go through multiple filters. Some of which include:

• Is it “Playground Proof”: how can other kids twist/warp the name to be embarrassing? Does it rhyme with ANY words that have negative connotations?
• Does it fail the “So Cute It Makes Me Sick” test?
• How many other kids are rocking the same name?
• Will you wince every time you say it?
• Will the child resent you for the choice in the future? (If you name him “Todd” he will)
• Did someone have that name in your past that you didn’t like? (I’m looking at you Charlie Cronin)
• Does it have over five alternate spellings? (My wife thought it was “Kateland”…but that’s a country, isn’t it?)
• and so on…

With all that pain and anguish, it’s difficult to understand why most people insist on coming up with a middle name as well. It’s pretty clear that most middle names are the ones that won the Silver Medal in the Naming Olympics.

How’d you go about it? Did you finally land on the name when the baby came or weeks after? Did you opt in or out of a middle name? Did you have to succomb to family pressure regarding the name?

Or did you just chuck it all and go with “Carl”?