Tag Archives: babies

The All-Ages Genius of Rockabye Baby (via the Washington Post)

I ain’t sorry.

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Washington Post — Pro tip for aspiring PR executives: If you’re ever announcing a Beyoncé-themed baby product, try to do so just days before she Instagrams her pregnancy.

Such was the most recent stroke of good news in the potent, enduring tale of the Rockabye Baby series, which for 11 years and 78 albums has tried to alleviate one of the worst parts of being a parent — the music — with lullabied instrumental covers of songs from, you know, real bands. The Beyoncé version is the latest in a list that includes Prince, the Beatles, Springsteen, the Pixies, David Bowie, Eminem, the Cure, Guns N’ Roses, Rush, Kanye West, Radiohead, Adele, Cyndi Lauper, Tool and Iron Maiden. (If you think you had a weird day at work, imagine trying to coax “The Number of the Beast” out of a harp and glockenspiel.)

A look inside the world of the planet’s dominant Kanye West lullaby-making machine.

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Oh Sure, Like You’ve Never Watched a Cow Give Birth With Your Sons Before (via The Mid)

JUST PRODUCING A CALF, NOTHING TO SEE HERE.

JUST PRODUCING A CALF, NOTHING TO SEE HERE.

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The Mid — GRAPHIC CONTENT WARNING: This piece contains explicit descriptions of cow birth, but trust me when I say that though they’re all true, detailed and kind of slidey, reading them is not nearly as bad as BEING 10 FEET AWAY FROM A LIVE COW GIVING BIRTH. So everyone just relax.

Indeed, on purpose, with my own eyes and with a mind toward “experiencing nature” (or whatever nonsense you tell yourself when you’re about to witness something grody for no practical purpose), I recently watched a large cow deliver another smaller but still pretty large cow. I realize that most readers here have either witnessed or starred in the production of another human being, and as of press time I’ve only done the former, but I’m pretty sure the cow version is much funkier. Much.

The actual gross birth happens over at The Mid.

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Dad Week at GQ.com: 10 Horrible Gross Things They Don’t Tell You About the Delivery Room

delivery-room

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GQ — There are more books about the wondrous, gross miracle of childbirth than there are celebrity organic cookbooks, inspirational-quote compilations, and terrible softcore mom-porn novels PUT TOGETHER. Yeah, it’s a lot. Let everyone else read the encyclopedias. Here’s a sneak preview for what will be a very curious few hours.

1. You will look. Oh, you’ll not want to look. You’ll want to avoid and eschew looking. You’ll want to hide behind the couch and cover your eyes like the first time you saw the end of Raiders. Thousands of years of primordial evolutionary instincts will all align in your brain, forming a united front like soldiers at a castle siege shouting, “You DO NOT KNOW what hideous terrors lurk in a location you usually enjoy visiting.” But you will look. You will look because you’re a grownup, and a father, and that is your baby’s mother, albeit not exactly presented in a way you might initially recognize. Also, you kind of can’t not look—it’s not like there’s anything more interesting happening in the room.

The full and slightly gooey list over at GQ.com.
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More from Dad Week:

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In Which I Try To Convince a Grown Woman That You Shouldn’t Eat Babies

A-Calm-Reasoned-Argument-For-and-Against-Eating-Your-Cute-Fat-Baby-by-Kim-Bongiorno-and-Jeff-Vrabel Let Me Start By Saying — This week, over at the great Let Me Start By Saying, I make a thoughtful, reasoned argument for why you shouldn’t eat babies. I feel this is a pretty logical point, but there appears to be some pushback. Read the entire debate here to find out exactly how I lose.   . .


7 Things All Parents Can Agree Are Completely Awful (NickMom)

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The full version over at NickMom.

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Worse On A Plane: Crying Baby Or Foul-Smelling Adult? NO CONTEST

girl-crying-on-plane

Ugh, and she’s got the cool window seat too.

GateHouse — Over the years I’ve had occasion to fly with my children, now ages 9 and 1.5, to various spots along the East Coast, which I’ve done each time for one very simple reason: The “government” apparently doesn’t let kids fly by themselves, as I discovered years ago during a particularly heated and revealing conversation with an O’Hare ticket agent.

(There’s also a second reason: I prefer flying because I’ve driven with these kids in cars. And in cars, they trouble only myself and my wife for hours upon endless highway hours; on a plane, it’s maybe two hours, and they also get to annoy everyone else, which is bad for the rest of the plane I guess but makes me feel like I’m sharing the burden, which is comforting.)

I bring this up because of a recent Harris Interactive study that asked 2,000 adults which airline seatmate would be preferable: A crying baby, or a foul-smelling adult. If you’ve flown with any regularity you’ve probably been exposed to both; you’ve possibly been exposed to them at the same time. You’ve possibly been exposed to a foul-smelling baby or a crying adult, which would actually be a much better survey question, actually.

Yet this choice really isn’t a choice at all. It’s zero content. Go with the baby. Duh.

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School Picture Day: Forever Capturing Your Smile, Or Whatever The Hell That Is You’re Doing

Sixth grade.

Sixth grade.

Island Packet — Generally speaking, we don’t order or display school pictures very often, for one simple reason: I have seen mine.

My mom has hanging in her house the complete and unabridged collection of Godawful Jeff School Photos, everything from a mint 1980 Floppy-Haired Kindergartener to a 1986 Inconceivable Geek With Monstrous Plastic Brown Glasses to the 1991 Moody Teen Who Is Scowling Because His Parents Made Him Get Braces in the 11th Grade. The pictures are arranged in chronological order in an oval, ostensibly to simulate a clock and the passage of time. It’s a treasured and invaluable part of my mom’s home decor, and I want to smash it with a hammer and light it on fire, then smash the smashed pieces with a hammer and feed them to a moose, or any kind of animal that eats hopelessly nerdlinger school photos, I’ll have to look it up.

I bring this up because we got our school pictures from my younger son’s day care last week. Read more.

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Latest @NickMom: Top 9 Ways Kate Middleton’s Baby’s Birth Will Be Different Than Yours

top-9-ways-kate-middleton-preggers-articleNickMom — Yep. I write about Kate Middleton babies now.
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8. You didn’t have to worry about writing on the birth certificate “Lord Farthing Heatherington of the Welch-Cambridge Nigh Highlands” or what-the-hell-ever.
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Read the full list at NickMom.


Top 9 Things You Say in the 12 Hours After Your Son Gets a Magic Kit

NickMom — Hey, you know what a magic kit helps you get done? NOTHING AT ALL.

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  1. “Hey, that’s some pretty good magic, buddy!”
  2. “No, I don’t know where the purple ball went. You must be a wizard!”

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The full list over at NickMom.


Top 9 Things My Infant Appeared To Be Thinking On The Night He Discovered That He Had Feet

NickMom — To be fair, if I just learned that I had feet, I’d probably stare at them for 45 minutes too.

  1. “AAAAAAAAAAAUGH!”
  2. “WHAT THE HELL IS THAT THING ON MY LEG?”
  3. “SWEET LORD, THERE’S ANOTHER ONE!”
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Read the full list over at NickMom.


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