I can watch baby K. do this all day long... ... ...

Our "thing"... I take the frozen booby milk out and wait for it to thaw under warm water. Prepare the bottle and a cup of cereal for myself. Read her a book (my morning book is "Little Pea") and then we settle down to our "spot". And I watch for ten minutes as she gulps her milk down. No way close to the physical act of a mother feeding her baby directly, but it's my way. My special way. God, I lOVe her!

I have no choice, but to be a full-time S(tay).A(t).H(ome).D(addy). A little quick history for those not in the circle of trust. I've been married to my high school sweetheart for almost two years now, and we have a daughter. No, we didn't get married because of our daughter, but my wifey did get prego shortly after our marriage. + Don't share this with anyone else, but "I never miss!" - (The Grindhouse) + Before all this madness, my wifey was pursuing her M.D. and I was clawing after my M.S. In a strange game of chance, a coin flip, I ended with diaper duties and the wife returned back to work because she has too much to lose in this sour deal. I'm not sure if I should be proud of being a S.A.H.D. because I lose a little piece of my manhood everyday. Just imagine... I'm always home with our daughter and experiencing most milestones while the wifey is experiencing it through text messages in an O.R. Sucks! It has now transitioned over to the point that I take care of everything and the wifey just brings home the $$$. Actually, it should be only one $ because she doesn't make that much as a resident. Some of you guys might think that I'm lucky and probably play Modern Warfare 2 with the baby all day until the wife comes home to take over, but that is a hoax. Besides the nanny gig: I'm a house keeper, an accountant, cook, and husband. I have no time to play with my Wii (I still try to squeeze it in after my two babies call it a night). Besides the hardship that dangle along with being a S.A.H.D.; I'm a little embarrassed about it, too. Not sure of the core reasoning behind it, but it's embarrassing (to me).

Our daughter is at the age where she wants to explore and tires of her old toys very easily. Not crawling yet, but almost there. The wifey has requested that I look into activity groups for our baby to join. First, we live in a competitive community of mothers and there are waiting lists for everything. Second, in doing my due-diligence on the Internet I keep crossing pictures of rooms full of mothers with their kids. Honestly, I think in my circle of friends I'm the only S.A.H.D. I can't call up another bro with a kid and do a bromance lunch with him. No, I have to call up mothers for play dates (which isn't bad because the mothers I know are cool). I'm stuck in a situation where I always have to interact with mothers. It's not all that bad, but you know?! I'll do anything for my baby, but it still steals a little piece of my manhood from me. If we ever get into a class I can only imagine the discussions we'll be having... "My husband sucks for not caring!" - (Me: I'm sorry that we're all jERks!) "Did you watch Rachael Ray last night? Girl, I can make that dish in my sleep." - (Me: I'm picking up KFC for dinner tonight (because I can't cook)!) "That new bachelor is a pig, but I can't stop watching." - (Me: He is, but a very lucky pig.) I'm kidding! Please do not send me hate letters. Anyway, I think I'm in the right for being a little embarrassed about being a S.A.H.D. My wifey deserves to be home with our Kaila. I'm a little sad that can't be the case right now. Well, I'm going to keep playing the lottery and hope our luck changes. Minus the embarrassment, I'm blessed to have my family and have a place we can call home. Thank you, Jesus!

This was taken on my iPhone when she was 5 months old. Now she's seven months old and a totally different baby. STOP growing!

I'm in a funk! I have dreams (wishful goals) that I want to pursue, but I want to keep my dreams pristine... Explanation: my dreams usually end with champagne pouring down from the sky, a vault full of gold coins that I swim in every morning, and adoration from everybody. To have my pristine dreams burst into flames, crumble into ash, and to have the wind carry it away is not acceptable. But I hate being in a funk.

I've been contemplating one goal for over a year now and I still can't push myself to do it; photographer. Professional photographer. My handicap is the positive comments and reviews I receive from uploaded pictures on Facebook, Flickr, and this blog. I'm the type of dude that feeds on public acceptance and awareness (lack of a better word). Even though I know I'm a leader; I'm more of putting your needs before mine. So, the glorious comments I receive only confuse me more because I'm not sure if you're being real, or not. Honestly, I just don't want to end up like the contestants on American Idol who are laughed off the stage because they lacked talent even though they believed in themselves and had supporters who kept feeding their "ego". But they're heroes for stepping forward and I'm still a chicken hiding in the corner. This isn't a plea to stop having my friends leave loving comments, or keep away from encouraging me to pursue my dreams, but... Self-therapy. If I talk (write) about my fears publicly then maybe it'll be easier to overcome them. Who knows?! I just hate being in a funk.

Anyway, I just can't end a blog post without attaching a photo. Please vote for this iPhone picture: www.contest.adorama.com/entries/16792 (Adorama iPhone Photo Contest) Thanks! (Baby K. is dreaming of the grand prize.)

I get a little sad when I look at this picture. I want my baby girl to pursue all of her dreams and to dream big, but I'm contradicting myself because her daddy is still in the minor leagues with his dreams. Sad! Also, she is growing up way too fast! Double sad!!