My oldest daughter was a beautiful, little fine-featured baby. She had big dark eyes, a tiny little face and a doting father.
My husband was so very proud of his little girl. In the hospital he held her even before I did. His expression said it all; without a doubt, he adored her.
The only time I really held her was when she was nursing, my husband had her the majority of the time. Even relatives had to beat him off with a stick in order to hold her. Luckily family isn’t very shy so this was no problem.
She was a very good baby. The first night home from the hospital she slept the entire night through. I got very little sleep, because I knew that babies didn’t sleep all night, and I kept putting my finger next to her tiny nose to make certain I could feel her breathing. Also, she didn’t cry very much, after a couple wah’s she would almost always fall asleep. My theory is that your first child is usually pretty good, it’s nature’s way of fooling you into having more… but that’s another story.
We were at my parents’ house. Ma and I were chatting in the dining room. We all heard the baby start to cry. Like a streak, my husband flew out of the kitchen into the living room to the crib. There he stopped with his arms posed to scoop her up. He glanced over at me and Ma looking very sheepish and slowly walked back to the kitchen. Our daughter was still sleeping; the crying baby was coming from the television. We all laughed, and of course the entire family learned of the incident. After that he was a little more careful before rushing in to pick her up.
With all of the attention he gave her, there is no doubt that she was daddy’s little girl. I definitely came in 2nd place when she was little. He made certain that the first word out of her mouth was “da da”. I helped him out a little and taught her to say it with emphasis, “DaaAAaad!!” It was absolutely adorable the way she picked that little tidbit up so quickly. My husband hated me for it…
I worked first shift and my husband worked second shift. I drove to work in the early morning leaving my husband and daughter asleep. Our daughter’s crib was right next to our bed, so she was never alone. When I got home, my husband would leave immediately for work and I took home duty. He would come home late at night when we were both asleep. It worked out well because we didn’t need a babysitter and had only one vehicle.
I started noticing that my husband was looking mighty tired by the end of the week. We had a tiny little bedroom, so her crib was right next to the light switch. As soon as she heard the car start up in the morning, she would stand up in her crib, and turn the light switch on and off. Flick… flick… flick… Then in a tiny little commanding voice would yell, “DaaAAaad!” Flick… flick… flick… “DaaAAaad!” Flick… flick… flick… “DaaAAaad!” Flick… flick… flick…
This would continue, until a very tired daddy picked her up. He would climb back into bed in an attempt to get more sleep, but now a certain little girl was wide awake. Soon he would get up and feed her because more sleep was just out of the question, according to a tiny little highness.
For some reason, my husband was in a hurry to get his little angel into her own room… away from light switches. Go figure.
