Writing a Blog is Hard Work

11 Jun

Writing a blog is hard. I mean it is really, really difficult. I mean every night I have great intentions of writing something Pulitzer-worthy about how awesome my son is or how much fun it is to be a parent, but let’s be real — writing a blog is hard. And yes, you can get a Pulitzer for writing blogs. Why else would so many people want to write them!? Don’t just say for the pleasure of writing. No way, it’s all about the money and the fame.

(Deep sigh………..)

Writing a blog is sooo hard. Don’t believe me? Let’s take you through a typical day in the Pickle Jar.

3:30 am: Nolan Wayne Dill is awake. He is slightly confused as to why he is in jail, and why jail doesn’t have a ceiling. Or maybe it does have a ceiling but the ceiling appears to be very, very high. Possibly it’s just his eyes coming into focus from a long deep sleep…. no, that ceiling is very high. “Where is my mom??”, he thinks aloud which really just means he starts to scream bloody murder. Nolan wants a bottle.

3:35 am: After changing a very poopy diaper, Mrs Pickle is now ready to feed our son. He is happy with this result.

4:10 am: Mrs Pickle is back in bed next to a groggy but completely unhelpful Me. I need my beauty sleep to prepare for a hard day at work.

5:55 am: My alarm goes off, and usually it is set to start playing my favorite classic rock and roll station. This morning it is on NPR. I am not sure who played this trick on me but I am pretty confident Moegley has something to do with it. He is a wily old dog.

6:20 am: Nolan is snuggling with his mother as part of their morning ritual, and I head off to the office.

7:30 am: Nolan Wayne Dill is awake. He is slightly confused as to who let him out of jail and to how he now is in a queen size bed. He likes it, a lot. He starts to scream bloody murder. Oh! There is Mom. Good. Now go get me a bottle.

8:10 am: Mrs Pickle is going through bottle number two. Nolan likes to eat. This is proven by the fact that he is a whopping 10 lbs 14 oz (as of June 11, 2013) and that is huge when you realize that this premature little baby was only 3 lbs 13oz not even three months ago. The whole world marvels at his glory.

9:30 am: Nolan Wayne Dill is asleep. Huh? Mrs Pickle is just as surprised so she takes the opportunity to shower and get ready for the day. Nolan realizes this attempt and immediately starts to scream bloody murder. YOU MUST PAY ATTENTION TO ME!!

11:00 am: Nolan Wayne Dill… yeah, he’s hungry again. Bottle time!

2:30 pm: This is the time during the day when I usually receive a much appreciated video from Josie and Nolan. It most times is just Nolan, staring at me and making funny noises. It is a much-needed reprieve from my day, and gives me a chance to appreciate how much I love my family.

2:31 pm: I am back to the grind of work, while Mrs Pickle and the Nolanator turn on some Law & Order: SVU. It is their favorite show and I must admit it is extremely catchy. Early odds indicate Nolan will become either a detective or a lawyer.

4:00 pm: Nolan Wayne Dill … Ok fine, you get it. He wants a bottle. Sidebar, your honor: This is something that is completely crazy as a new parent — feeding. Babies really usually want to eat every 3 hours, though Nolan usually goes longer (sometimes he can go 6+ hours at night). Everyone and their dog feel that we are under-feeding our baby. We politely listen to what they say and then do what we want. If judging the whole feeding process/timing is one of the craziest parts of being a parent, not giving a crap might be the best. He eats almost 6 ounces per feeding, and I don’t know many 2 month olds that almost sleep through the night. So I doubt we are starving our kid because, as was mentioned before, he has gained 7 pounds in less than 3 months. I’m a man, I’m 25, and Nolan does whatever he wants.

5:30 pm: Dad (THAT’S ME!) is home and the fun begins. Nolan is usually ecstatic to see me (read: screams bloody murder), and I him (read: screams bloody murder). I get to hear all about his day, and ask the normal dad questions such as how many times did you poop on mom, did you roll over, what do you want to be when you grow up, etc.

6:00 pm: It is time for the parents to eat. Nolan Wayne Dill don’t care. He decides this is a great time to let us know that setting him down will not be an option. Jos and I have become really great at the rotating dinner. She eats while I hold, then we switch so that I can eat… For as much as he likes to eat he can really be a pain when I want to eat. I love him so much.

7:00 pm: Nolan is working through another bottle, call it his dinner. He just pooped through another diaper and onto an outfit, which is now soaking in the sink. I used to be completely against spilling things on myself — in the past I would much rather change and dirty two shirts instead of doubly dirtying the one I was wearing. I like to look fresh. Macklemore called me up the other day and was like “No seriously can I have your hand-me-downs”? I said, “Dude just go to Target”. But especially after becoming a father I really could care less about how dirty my shirt is. It most often has spit up on it but that is just life. I really kinda like my life.

7:01 to 10:00 pm: This is do whatever we want time. Tonight we took Nolan and got some ice cream, and then I mowed the lawn while Josie and Noles sat on the patio. Then Nolan got a bath. Last night we met Josie’s grandma for a birthday dinner. Nolan goes where we go, and he seems to like that. We like that. There is no reason to try to plan around a baby because you will literally be exiled to your home and do nothing. And there is no complaining about packing a baby around, we love it. He is us.. In fact the other night a waitress kept saying, “You two have a good night”… IT’S THREE! WE ARE THREE! From 7:00 pm to 10:00 we three do hoodrat things with our friends.

10:00 pm: It’s time for one more bottle. 9 nights out of 10 this bottle will last the little guy until somewhere around 3:00 am… at which point the cycle starts again.


See? Writing a blog is hard! I happened to have some time tonight to scratch one out, but most nights I would rather be holding my son or taking him to whatever place we want to go, or just watching him try to roll from his stomach to his back. He is by far one of the greatest parts of my life — he completes our family. It is a truly inexplicable feeling, being a parent, and one I wouldn’t trade for the world.

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