Children

The Skinny on Milk

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Milk is near and dear to my heart, but not all milk. You may as well use water if you’re having your cereal with skim milk. I have loathed the fat-free version of milk all my life. The taste and the color is not anything close to the real McCoy. To make things worse, when I was growing up and was served skim milk at a friend’s house I would have to endure some lecture about how it is the smart, healthy choice when it comes to milk. I have never bought that BS so, naturally, I was delighted when I flipped open New York Magazine and read their food science article on milk.

The skinny:  Research shows that whole milk is the healthiest milk for a baby, a kid, a teenager, an adult male, or a woman trying to conceive. This, of course, was presented in a neat chart that can be found by clicking this link. For adult females (not trying to conceive), fermented milk products have been shown to be the healthiest. And for retirees, no more than a glass of milk per day for you.

Those in favor of whole milk say:

It may be high in (still controversial) saturated fat, but whole milk is also 40 percent unsaturated fat, which has been shown to improve blood-cholesterol levels (thereby reducing the risk of heart disease). And whole milk keeps you feeling full longer than milk with less fat, which some recent studies suggest may help keep off the pounds. The weight control may also be due to “bioactive substances” found in milk fat, which changes the way our metabolism functions, allowing us to burn that fat for energy instead of storing it in our bodies.

So, if you’re drinking skim milk, you are more likely to be hungry sooner and guess what is most likely consumed next in that scenario? According to Dr. David Ludwig, a professor of nutrition at the Harvard School of Public Health, it’s processed carbohydrates. Michael Pollan even says the best milk to drink is organic whole milk from grass-fed cows.

What to do next? Well, if you’re sitting there with a glass of water that someone has spiked with a few drops of white food coloring and called it milk, it’s time to move on. 1% fat, 2% fat, or all the way to whole, the closer you get to the real deal, the better the milk is for you. Of course, moderation is always a necessary ingredient. Cheers.

Pictures of Preemies

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London. 8 Hours Old.

A Canadian photographer and father to two preemies, Red Méthot, has a popular project in which he photographs preemies holding their own baby pictures. I first saw this on Facebook and thought I should share it here. Follow this link to the Unworthy post.

This link leads to Red’s Facebook page, where you can view all of his photos in this project.

Particularly of note for me, were the two preemies photographed who are still on oxygen as toddlers. One of them was born at 23 weeks and the other at 26 weeks. Both boys. Kate and I are tremendously blessed that London, born at 26 weeks, is now 21 months old and approaching her one year anniversary of being free of oxygen support. Here’s hoping the two boys pictured with oxygen can lose that cannula for good sometime soon!

Those First 20 Months

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Don’t run. Don’t run from this. I know, you had these grand plans. Fatherhood doesn’t mean those plans have to be scrapped. Modified, perhaps. Delayed, most likely. But scrapped? No.

Impending fatherhood can do some crazy things to you. A part of you might want to tuck tail and run. We are selfish beings after all. In the moment, it is all too easy to see the coming changes as the way you are going to lose your freedoms.

I won’t lie. Some freedoms disappear. Some just temporarily. Some other freedoms for a little while longer. But as you wade deeper and deeper into fatherhood, those freedoms will come back. Normal will be erased, redefined, and can slowly return to something resembling a healthy, balanced lifestyle.

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You won’t get to help complete her first puzzle.

But first there will be dirty diapers, lots of them. Also, there won’t be sleep, at least not restful sleep. Your life will be interrupted by a baby and within that interruption, there are hundreds more interruptions, coming at the worst moments after just two hours of sleep, or at 4 am, or in the middle of a book, or in the middle of a job when you are facing a deadline. And your checking account will take a hit. Even if you get a ton of gifts at multiple baby showers, you will think there is a leak in your bank. And in the toughest moments, you might mourn the old you. Where did that carefree you go? You thought you had to be responsible before? Huh, you will say out loud, I wish I could talk to that old me and let him know how easy he has got it.

You could just remain that person. After all, many people shirk the mantle of fatherhood. I don’t recommend it though. I have only been a father for 20 months, but just in case you decide to take even just the first 20 months off, here is some of what you will miss.

Your daughter’s first smile. Her very first laugh. Her. First. Laugh. Isn’t that amazing?

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You won’t get pictures like this.

You won’t get to teach her one of her first words. You won’t get to cheer her on as she makes her very first army crawl across the living room.

You won’t get to pick clothes out for her. You won’t get to dress her in a new outfit for the very first time.

You won’t get to look at her in awe and start to see her become something that resembles a little of you and a little of the woman you loved long before your daughter was even in your imagination.

You won’t get to hear her say dada for the first time. You won’t get to hear her say your actual name for the first time, like I did today.

You won’t be able to scoop her off the ground after her first fall. You won’t get to have a hug from her. Those hugs, well, there is nothing like them.

The firsts don’t end at 20 months. They keep on going and going and going. Never in my life have I heard someone speak highly of a father who skipped out on those firsts. Can you even be a father if you skip this? Maybe. Eventually. But that road back is going to be a lot more challenging than just sticking this out.

If you could talk to your future self, say twenty years down the road, regardless of that person’s decision, I am confident he would say the same thing. You should be a father and a husband first. You will find out that all the other titles, adventures, and stories out there, although great they can be, will fade away once you embrace the most important role you will ever have. Father.