Letter to my daughter #0001
In which Papa Zesser celebrates his daughter’s 100th day on Earth, in his first (of many? he hopes so!) epistle to his darling daughter.
Sleeping on it
In which Papa Zesser realizes he is (almost) well-rested. Today and for several days (in a row!) previously.
Is it possible the trend will continue?
First mistake?
In which Papa Zesser fesses up to his biggest mistake as a father yet!
Or was it?
And why is a milk-drunk baby promoting this entry?
Photography of changes, changes in photography
In which Papa Zesser ponders time’s swiftly flitting arrow, the sheer strangeness of playing soccer with people a generation (and more!) younger than he is, and finally, indulges himself in some picspam, since Raven took a number of really good shots.
Fatherhood ain’t all feeding and diaper changes, ya know!
It (already) goes so fast …
In which Papa Zesser tries to come to terms with “baby brain”.
Or maybe, is just trying to pin the blame for this blog’s lack of regular production on a helpless infant.
You decide!
She got everything she needs …
In which Papa Zesser is roused at the un-godly hour of two in the afternoon by a shocking and disgusting development!
Oh sure, the little one looks sweet and innocent, but the truth is something very different indeed …
Child-Rearing 101, 1.0
After-birth
In which Papa Zesser finally – finally! – returns to the keyboard, and reflects upon some of the many things he has learned in his sudden 13 days as a father.
Adventures in breast-feeding, exhaustion and the meat-counter-like properties of the placenta are only some of the reasons you might want to click this link!
A Child Is Born
In which Papa Zesser looks back at the start of an exhausting week. Soccer Sunday, birth and becoming a father on Monday, followed by a sudden turn towards the philosophical.
Unwanted advice, 1.0
In which Papa Zesser runs into his first fatherless expert in child-rearing (and his first non-scientist expert in vaccines and autism – or anti-vaxxer, for short), and discovers what so many other parents (and parents-to-be) have had to find out since time immemorial: That everyone else is an expert in how to raise your kid.
Spoiler alert: He didn’t like it very much.