Dancing with Daddy

I adore my daughter, and in some ways I am (and will always be) closer to her than her daddy. And there’s nothing wrong with that. In some ways, he is (and will always be) closer to our son than I am. Say what you will, I am a firm believer that there are just some commonalities of gender that create a natural bond with the parent of the same sex.

But there are some special things between my husband and our daughter that I will never have. Like dancing together.

Katie and Daddy dancing

Of course, I can dance with her, too. But dancing with your mom is just not the same as dancing with your daddy. That’s why everyone cries at the father-daughter dance at weddings. It shows that very special bond between a man and his little girl (doesn’t matter if she’s 17, 27, or 47 when she gets married, she’s still his little girl) that is now changing forever, as a new man becomes the focus of her life.

A little girl dancing with her daddy is something special. She will never feel safer, or more loved, or more cherished, than she does in the arms of her daddy. She will never feel more beautiful or more graceful than she does in the arms of her daddy.

And I will never feel more proud of them both than I do when I see my littlest sweetheart dancing in the arms of my biggest sweetheart. After all, his daughters are the only girls other than me that he dances with with that much love in his eyes.

"I'm Watching the Baby"

One of the best baby gadgets we have is our video monitoring system. We have a multi-level house, and when I'm working in the basement office (when I'm busy blogging, for example) I can't hear all the way up to the nursery. It's not a problem when I'm puttering in the kitchen, because the sound carries from the second floor to the first. But in the basement, I have no idea what kind of din might be going on up there. Fortunately, the video monitor lets me keep an eye and an ear on things.

One of the features I really like is the visual noise level monitor. Which means that I don't have to listen to the screaming when I'm letting Ryan cry himself to sleep, I only need to keep an eye on the red lights to know whether he's given up the ghost or if he's still yelling. And I can turn on the viewscreen any time I like to see if he's squirming and wriggling or if he's physically collapsed but still protesting. If he's making little peeps I can take a look to see if he's cooing in his sleep or if he's getting wiggly and starting to wake up.

But the best feature of all is that Daddy can check in on the monitor any time he likes. It's hooked up to our computer, which has Slingbox. For all you technophobes out there, that means that as long as the monitor is plugged into its little docking station, we can tie in to the camera from any internet connection anywhere on earth. (And I suppose, technically in space as well, although I doubt we'll have the opportunity to test that theory.) So Daddy can peek at Ryan from his computer or even his phone whenever he needs a baby fix, or whenever I let him know that something cute is going on. And we have a second, mobile camera as well as the fixed one over the crib, so even if Ryan is playing in his exersaucer or his jumperoo or his bouncy chair, or if he's just playing in my arms or having tummy time, I can set up a camera so Daddy can see exactly what he's up to. He never has to miss a first word or step or even giggle:

This morning after I gave Ryan his bottle, he seemed to be out cold, so I went to put him down in his crib. He stirred a little when I laid him on his back, so I flipped him onto his tummy and he settled back down. When I got downstairs I checked the monitor and he was wide awake - and pushing himself up with his arms to look around the crib! I immediately e-mailed Herb to tell him, "BabyCam alert: Ryan's doing pushups in the crib!" A few minutes later the phone rang, and I recognized Herb's cell phone number. As soon as I picked it up, he announced excitedly, "Hi sweetie! I'm watching the baby!" And what more wonderful thing for a daddy than to be able to watch the baby, too, even if it happens to be Mommy's time to watch the baby in person.

Fathers and Sons

There's nothing quite so wonderful for a new mom as having a husband who is not only excited and actively involved with the baby (as most are), but who is also an experienced dad. In my case, my husband's experience is 17 years in the past, but like riding a bike, it comes back very quickly.

I'm not sure who adores whom more, whether it's Herb crushing on his son or Ryan crushing on his daddy. But it's obvious there's a mutual admiration society going on there.

Herb and his daughter have a very special relationship, and are probably closer than a lot of fathers and daughters are. After all, she lived with just him for 9 months out of the year for most of her life. And even before her parents were divorced, she got special time with him because her daycare was at his work so he could visit with her at lunch and got extra father-daughter time during his commute to and from work. Even aside from his devotion to her, spending that much time together creates a very close bond. But I think the combination of her growing up and not needing him in the same way that she used to and having a son instead of another daughter is making his bond with Ryan something special in its own way, too.

The relationship between daddies and daughters is, I think, based on a bit of mystery on both sides. A daddy has never been a little girl playing dress-up and having tea parties, or a tween girl dealing with clothes and makeup and hair, or a teenage girl trying to understand boys and the world of dating. And a girl doesn't usually look at her father and think about growing up to be just like him. So there's a natural disconnect there that can never be completely bridged.

Fathers and sons, on the other hand, have a different kind of connection. A daddy looks at his little boy and relives his own childhood: wrestling, rough-housing, playing with trucks and dirt and worms and dead things. He knows what it's like to be a boy because he's been one. He went through the embarassment of a changing voice, being shorter than the girls, growing a caterpillar on his upper lip, the public hazards of hormones, and asking a girl for a date for the first time. He can identify. And a son can look at his dad and get a glimpse of his own future, whether it be athletic prowess or a receding hairline. He can see what he may grow into. Even in babyhood, there's a special bond between a man and the child who will carry on his family name.

So I love watching my husband and son together. I love that they already have a special routine together. Every night at around 9pm, Herb takes Ryan upstairs for "tubby time". Sometimes I join them, but for the most part, I leave them alone for their male bonding time. Ryan grew out of the baby bathtub very quickly, so now he gets to flail around in the big tub, making waves and getting squirted with his many tub toys. He loves when Daddy sprays his chest with the showerhead and lets the water spritz over his face - he sticks out his tongue and tastes it, or if it's too much, scrunches up his face in distaste. Daddy even encourages him to close his eyes and hold his breath while he sprays a little water on his face, to get him ready for dabbling in the pool next summer. But the best part of tubby time is the hair dryer afterwards! When bathtime is over, Herb wraps him in one of his towels (the duck, the elephant, the turtle, the monogram - the choices are almost endless) and brings him to the changing table to diaper him and dress him for bed.

But before he gets dressed, he gets dried all over with the hair dryer. He knows the drill by now so as soon as he hears the dryer he melts into a relaxed puddle. When Herb dries his hair and the warm air blows around his face, he closes his eyes blissfully and makes funny mouth puckers as he waves his chubby arms and legs in ecstasy. Once he's snuggled into a warm sleeper, Herb shuts off the lights, turns on the music, settles into the rocking chair, and gives him his last bottle of the day before tucking him in his crib.

I must admit, I'm a little jealous that I'm not the one tucking him in every night. But I know that I have him all to myself almost every day, and I don't begrudge Herb his special daddy time. After all, he is a very special daddy.