Pinky of Power

Lacking breasts, dads are naturally disadvantaged in the pacification department. To a newborn, there is no substitute for mom's deliciousness, and they have no shame reminding you of this. With no motor control, an infant's options are rather limited, but very effective. They basically have two powers...

1. An unfair amount of cuteness, and...

Booga Booga

2. An industrial-strength air raid siren...

The latter can be defended against.

I haven't measured the decibels, but the volume this little guy can produce is impressive, at least comparable to a 747 on a noise to weight comparison. I heard about a scientific study that confirmed a baby's cry has the timbre and frequency most distressing to human adults. I am glad I was not a participant in that study. 

When the mama's not around, and the alarm has sounded, nature has provided dad with his own power that protects him from permanent hearing loss and a gradual decay into insanity...the Pinky of Power.

To use the Pinky of Power.

1. Extend Pinky of Power, trimmed fingernail down.

2. Insert Pinky of Power and gently push against the roof of baby's mouth.

Ah, silence. You will feel an interesting sucking sensation familiar to noodlers the world over. Bonus: you have one hand free for flipping channels, consuming calories, or summoning mama in preparation for the inevitable expiration of the Pinky of Power, which will happen in approximately 3 minutes.

Feeding the Mama/Baby

After she gives birth, the mama will be tired, sore, and hungry. Your child will also be (less) tired, sore, and hungry.

Feed Me

You will also be tired, (less) sore, and hungry, but, as dad, that doesn't matter. You are the single somewhat-functioning member of your family, and will need to do pretty much everything around the house for the first several weeks. That includes: feeding the mama.

She will be using the food you feed her to manufacture the breast milk that will make up 100% of your child's nourishment. While breast milk may be the ideal food for baby, it is only truly ideal if the mama is munching the ideal food for her as well. Now, here's the secret: if you don't put poison in your mom's mouth, it won't end up in your baby's mouth either. End result: happy mama, happy baby.

Poison? Why would I feed the mama poison?

Because a lot of poison looks, feels, smells, and tastes, like real food...

We know arsenic is not good for mamas or babies. That one is easy.

Avoid foods in skull-shaped bottles.

Fortunately, they don't put bottles of sugar-flavored arsenic on the shelves at the grocery store in cute, animal-shaped bottles. But, because modern technology is so damn good at making cheap, synthetic food-like substances, it is easy to accidentally burden your mama and baby with something not-quite-poisonous, but something their bodies were not built to digest.

Note: Some say we were created to digest natural foods. Some say we evolved to digest natural foods. For the purposes of your family's health, it doesn't matter which one of these you choose to believe.

Q: So, how do we know what is safe for mama and baby?
A: If folks could have been eating it 1000 years ago, it's probably okay.


Q: How do I know if folks were eating it 1000 years ago?
A: If it doesn't look like this...

A: (cont.) or this...

 A: (cont.) or this...

Now, I'm not saying energy bars, mass-produced candy, and fast food are no longer food options. I'm saying these things never were food, and should never have been considered for human consumption in the first place.

Nicotine, like high fructose corn syrup, is a lovely and enjoyable thing. Some say both are safer in moderation, which is probably true. Allowing your newborn one smoke a week is better than a pack a day.

No stunt children were hurt in the taking of this picture (that I know of).

But, why not start them at zero, and do the same for high fructose corn syrup? They will have plenty of time to choose whether or not to destroy their health when they're older. If you're lucky, they'll choose cigarettes.

Dad's Nutrition Reality
After daily pop tart sugar rushes and years of eating foods sub-optimal for an expecting baby mama, a more wholesome diet was in order. Please understand. I have never been a health freak. I scoffed at the phrase "don't panic, it's organic!" No one was more skeptical than me regarding the merits of over-priced organic foods. Hydroponic vegetables, naturopathic medicine, and herbal supplements seemed like quackery to me–a total sham and a racket. But, her mysterious problem conceiving had no clear answers in the mainstream medical community. It turns out that while doctors can transplant hearts and regrow fingers, they still don't really know what causes miscarriage. So, after some (a LOT) of reading, she put down the pop tarts, picked up a few bottles of cod liver oil, and started eating primarily organic, raw, natural foods. 

I can't argue with the results. After 2 years of natural supplements, lots of protein, and high-fat natural foods, she had:

• Restored receding gums
• Whitened and strengthened teeth
• Gained energy
• Improved digestion
• Restored fertility

After observing this transformation, and a healthy baby, this dad is absolutely convinced of a few things many would consider crazy radical. Basically, that refined sugars, artificial flavors, and virtually all chemical additives and preservatives are destructive to human health. Anything "low fat," "low calorie," or "hydrogenated" is a poison to mama and child. Here's the low down as far as I understand it: A diet of commercial "reduced fat" foods, or other processed pseudo-foods, over time, starves the body of fat soluble nutrients. The body deteriorates, eventually suffering from unpleasantries such as diabetes, obesity, heart disease, cancer, arthritis, decreased fertility, depression, and all the other chronic diseases your friendly neighborhood multi-national pharmaceutical company has a pill for.

The solution? If you want a happy and healthy child and mama, eat like the French. Lots of fat, lots of protein. Eggs, butter, beef, fish, greens, dairy, and organ meats like liver; all organic. Just like your baby will be eating what mama eats, she will be eating whatever the cow on her plate ate. Buy grass fed beef and free range chicken. Buy wild fish, not farm-raised.

Q: But organic grass-fed beef is expensive! Can I afford it?
A: Yes, you can. It's much cheaper than decades of medical bills and treatment costs for McObesity, McADHD, McAsthma, McAutism, and all the other debilitating diseases that cropped up in the modern industrial age.

Here are some of the main things I have been feeding my baby mama, and therefore my baby:

Organic eggs (ideally from pasture-fed chickens)

Organic bacon WITHOUT NITRATES

Organic chicken liver

Raw cheese

Wild-caught fish

LOTS of real butter

Kefir (it's very good for you)

Floradex, cod liver oil, high-vitamin butter oil, chlorophyll, etc.

Dad's supplement

And that is basically how this dad keeps baby and mama (and daddy) healthy, happy, and culinarially satisfied.

Hey, look at this hat. It makes me look like a schlemiel.

Ha Ha Ha!

Not funny.

The Swaddle

Very young people have a tendency to remind you how genuinely helpless they are. There is no one more desperate and dependent than a screaming, hungry infant. They are obsessed. They cannot be distracted with shiny objects, or the bouncy-bouncy, or even a pacifier (in my case, pinky finger) for long. Hard-coded into their brains is the need for a nipple planted deep in their mouth and the procurement of sweet, sweet milk. In want of this they are certain of their immanent death. Waking from a deep slumber, the first tingle of hunger marks the inevitable descent to a slow, miserable, painful emaciation. They taste death. They do not hope. They do not believe or wish. They do not have faith that milk will arrive. They only know that they are sure to die, and that is all. Without the warm fluid flowing down their throats, there is only darkness.

Finding the breast between his lips, the infant, somehow, still cannot believe he has been saved. He tests, and then resumes crying. His lips touch the one thing that grants him life, and he refuses, pulling away. His own tiny hands flail about, intercepting the connection, preventing what he requires. He sucks on his fingers and then wails, cheek pressed against the only thing that will relieve his pain. The loving mother, determined to relieve his suffering, grows frustrated as his small but powerful fists and fingernails batter and scrape her tender flesh. The restless infant knows nothing other than to resist the one thing he desperately needs and desires. At this point, particularly when mother and infant are frustrated to tears, the father's role becomes essential. He takes the infant gently in his arms, places him on a flat surface, and initiates the swaddle.

swad·dle tr.v. swad·dled, swad·dling, swad·dles
~To wrap or bind in bandages; swathe.

Perhaps the most enjoyable part of being a new dad has been learning to completely immobilize my wily and self-destructive son so that breast feeding is plausible. This velcro-enhanced swaddling blanket is basically a straight jacket for kids, and works really well. Here is a quick, step-by-step swaddle tutorial...

1. Place swaddling blanket on flat surface.


2. Procure baby.


3. Place baby in blanket.

4. Pull foot hoodie thing over legs and restrain right arm to the side.

5. Wrap left flap over velcro patch while holding down right arm.

6. Wrap left flap all the way across and hold down the left arm.

7. Tuck the left flap tightly around to the back.

8. Pull right flap across torso and secure tightly with velcro patches.

Voila! He's swaddled.

9. Place in front of mommy for a peaceful feeding. He is now less capable of self-destructive behavior and ready to chow down! Yum.


The swaddle is really a temporary measure. While the binding may be enjoyable for the parent, it should only be practiced when absolutely necessary, and not purely for recreation. When the baby is old enough to feed unrestrained without causing harm to himself and others, swaddling should be ceased (sniff).

I'm a Dad. Really.

Alright. So, somehow, I became a dad.

It all happened on October 24th, 2010. That's about 2 weeks ago now. Don't ask me about anything that happened before then. I don't remember. Since then, however, there has been an adventure filled with content suitable for any reality show. So, I figure, why not start a reality blog? We all know blogs usually have nothing to do with reality, so I figure this will be something unique and fresh. And, as a bonus, it will include a baby.

Drunken Punkin'

This blog is not a nauseating exposition of baby cuteness. Gross. This is a practical, fatherly account of the regular, daily goings on at the Johnson household. It is simply a matter-of-fact disclosure so that other new fathers can perhaps be even more prepared for fatherhood than I was, if that were possible.

No frills here. Being a blog for men, I'll get right to the point. So, let's get to it...