Richard Jones - A Dudes Guide to Babies: The New Dads Playbook

This book is dedicated to my mom, who always was sure I could do it, but now will never know; to my dad, for showing me how its done; to my sons, Sarcasmo, Zippy the Monkey Boy, and Hyper Lad, for giving me the reason behind it all; and to She Who Must Be Included in the Dedication, for putting up with most things, encouraging me in the rest, and not minding the names.

Richard Jones

This book is dedicated to my children. Without them, I would still be the selfish, self-absorbed person I cant stand to be around. To my wife, who does the job of ten people and never complains. To my mother, who instilled in me an attitude that I could always accomplish any goal I set out on. To my great friend and main author, Richard, who gave me the idea for this book by saying, Dude! There is no guide to babies. And to my father, who taught me that being a great dad does not mean you have to be a prefect person.

Barry Robert Ozer

Published by Sellers Publishing, Inc.
Copyright 2013 Sellers Publishing, Inc.

Cover image: Radius Images/Corbis
Cover, interior, and infographic design by Rita Sowins

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eISBN: 978-1-4162-0903-4

A Dudes Guide to Babies text copyright 2013 Richard Jones and Barry Robert Ozer. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book onscreen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form, by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of Sellers Publishing, Inc. e-books.

The information in this book is not meant to replace the guidance of your healthcare providers. Always consult your pediatrician about your babys health, and your physician about your personal health.

February 2013

Dudes, nobody warned us what it was going to be like when we became dads. Nobody took us aside, knuckled our heads, and whispered the secrets of being a father. It was a shock like no other the first time we were left alone with our kids. We were lost, out to sea, up to our necks in it.

Well, we survived and our kids survived, so were here to pass along a little of that hard-won wisdom. Okay, not exactly wisdom, more like experience disguised as wisdom, but that counts, right?

So, why did we decide to write a book? After all, there are thousands of books about baby rearing written by well-respected folks with actual postgraduate degrees and even abbreviations after their names. Were just two dudes with seven kids between us Barrys two boys and two girls, and Richards three boys. Were sure our wives helped somewhere in there, but it gets a bit lost in all the memories of crying and screaming. Oh, and the noises our kids made, too. We survived without any major injuries. To us. We dont have formal educations in child rearing and we didnt attend school to learn anything really useful. However, we do have a lot of experience and a rather different perspective than most of those other authors of books about bringing up babies.

Since most of the books we read had us snoring by the third paragraph, we decided that we needed to write the book we wished wed had when we first became dads.

Back then, we wanted straight talk. We wanted practical advice. We wanted it all to be wrapped up in a package that was funny enough to keep us interested and short enough to finish quickly so we could catch a few minutes of the game before the baby woke up. In brief, we wanted something we could read on the can.

A Dudes Guide to Babies was born from a panicked conversation between Richard and Barry. Richard, the wily veteran with three little dudes, was trying to console Barry, whod just gone from DINK (double income, no kids) to adoptive dad of four in the blink of six months.

Barry had traveled through fear, past panic, and out the other side of world-devouring, end-of-life-as-we-know-it terror, emerging in a state of brittle calm. It was a bit nerve-racking for onlookers, who tiptoed gently around Barry, worrying that his inevitable explosion would leave some appalling stains.

So, one day Richard went over to Barrys house to see the sweet little dudette who had just joined Barrys family. She was still wet behind the ears from her birth and had come to live with her brothers and sister under the loving roof provided by Barry and his wife.

Barrys wife is a pediatrician, which meant Barry was going to stay at home for a while to make sure his youngest daughter was taken care of. Barry, a confident serial entrepreneur who felt like he knew more than enough about everything and could always act decisively while being better dressed than the dude in the next cubicle, answered the door on his knees. Metaphorically, if not literally.

His hair was greasy and uncombed. There were stains on his grubby grey sweatshirt and it looked as if his sweatpants were on backwards. To put it bluntly, Barry was a mess.

Help, he croaked.

Richard walked in, closed the door, and cooed at the cute little dudette in the bassinet by the kitchen table, which was cluttered with dirty dishes from a half-eaten breakfast. He scootched a couple of pairs of shoes off the bench seat, looked into Barrys tired, bloodshot eyes, and tried to be gentle.

You look terrible, Richard said. Heres whats going to happen. Im going to stay here with your beautiful daughter, and youre going to clean yourself up. Take a nice, long shower. Dry off and get dressed. Take your time. When you come back out here, I want to see Barry, not a walking lump of ambulatory clothing held together by sweat and grease and wearing a Barry mask that doesnt really fit.

Thats what Richard said. Or words to that effect. Sometimes Richard is more eloquent in his memories than in reality.

Regardless, Barry toddled off to the shower while Richard fed the little dudette, reveling in that new-baby smell. He smiled, feeling more than a little sense of accomplishment that even though he hadnt burped one of his own kids in over a year, he still had what it took to burp a baby. Too bad he forgot to put the towel on his shoulder first.

Barry eventually came out looking almost human, just about the time that his daughter went to sleep in her bassinet. Barry gazed at her, and a look of pure joy brightened his poor, sleep-deprived face.

Setting the baby monitor down on the table next to the sleeping baby, Richard dragged Barry into the living room.