Is he broken? Did we break him?

I have noticed that I really haven't had a conversation with anybody in the last 4 weeks without talking about Otto. That's normal, I think. At least, as far as I can remember from all our friends who had kids, once you've had them that's what you talk about.

What I didn't expect was how most of these conversations would go. I expected to be proud and to talk about how cute he is and all the cute stuff he does...but that's not what we talk about at all.

Conversations about Otto are mostly about seeking guidance. You see, we may talk about something cute he did or a cute feature he has, but that is promptly followed by the question, "Is that normal?"

Having a kid is a little (very little) like owning a complicated, high maintenance, adorable computer. Talking to friends is like phoning a computer help line...except you don't really know if your computer is broken or not. In fact you don't even know what your computer is supposed to be doing, but your concerned that whatever it is doing is not correct. You're proud of this computer and you show it off to everyone that comes to your house, but you can't figure out how to print or how to save or how to plug it in. Whenever your computer does something that concerns you, you are convinced it is because you didn't program it right. And you're pretty sure you only get one shot at programming it and if you screw it up your life will be ruined. The irony is that the people you have sought out for help own a completely different brand of computers, and are equally concerned that they screwed their computers up, they've just had them a bit longer so they know the bugs.

(That was a long analogy...sorry. I think I am working through some frustrations with Apple this week).

He only sleeps 3 hours at a time...is that normal?

He eats SOOO much...is that what your kid did?

His poop looks like this? That can't be right, can it?

When I hold him upside down and jiggle him in a counter clockwise motion he makes a sound like: vrrrrrrrrrrr. Do you think he'll have asthma?

Lucky for us, EVERYBODY is ready to give advice.

"My kid slept 6 hours a night from the moment he was born and it's all because I did 14 jumping jacks before I breast fed and then whistled "Patience" by Guns and Roses to put him to sleep."

"You can't swaddle him like that or he'll develop weak shoulders and probably be depressed when he tries to do push-ups as a teenager."

"I've heard that soother causes fibromyalgia in 62% of children."

Of course, a lot of comments are followed up with something like, "Oh, wait, that's not right, I can't really remember. Maybe we did the opposite."

(Note: Very many people have given us very useful advice and we thank you very much.)

And then there's the books you get referred to. One will say that you MUST hold your child constantly for three months. Another says if you even touch your child before age 3 they will probably never go to college. Feed your child exactly 13 minutes BEFORE they start to cry. Never feed your child until they've cried for an hour and half.

In the end it's all very confusing and frustrating and you cry a little (a lot) from time to time.

The embarrassing part is, well ... I'm a doctor.

I've worked in Children's Emergency. I thought I had all this parenting thing down BECAUSE I've given advice. I mean, a lot of advice. And while I still don't think it's justified to show up to emergency with your 2 year old at 3:30 in the morning because they pulled on their ear twice and then went back to bed, I do get it now (a little). It's stressful. And you worry about EVERYTHING. And I realize more than ever that when I tell a parent that it's "just colic" or that they should just "ride out the fussiness" or that "this cluster feeding is normal," going home and living with it is a whole other story.

So I think what I've leaned this week is, whether you get advice from your mother-in-law, your doctor, or a granny covered in cat hair in line at Safeway, advice and life are different.

One night last week Otto fell asleep in his swing, so we left him there and he slept 3 hours (that's his upper limit). So after we fed him we put him back in the swing and he slept another 3 hours. And then a third time. Trisha felt guilty. None of the books said that was okay. What if he got dependant on the swing? But when we woke up after actually getting 8 hour of sleep over a 12 hour period, I knew it didn't matter, it was worth it. We were both human again.

I call it the Swing Maneuver. I'm thinking about writing a book about it.