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As a father-to-be, I know it’s natural to feel the pressures of all of my current and upcoming responsibilities. The pressure of settling on a name that the child will be called for the rest of its life is like none that I’ve felt before. (Yes, we think we have an idea for the name. No, we won’t be revealing it — at least not until we reveal the child into world.) Plus, the stereotypical father-worrying-about-finances stuff has me busy opening 529 and savings accounts and investing in all kinds of stocks, funds — not to mention trying to pay more attention in my MBA finance classes. And don’t forget all the usual daddy-version-of-nesting stuff that is nagging at me earlier than it should be: child-safety locks, home improvements, the baby’s room, etc. Of course there’s also a little bit of “Will I be a good father?” stuff rolling around in my head (even though I’m pretty sure I will be).

Thankfully, I’ve been doing a lot of reading about this stuff and it’s all normal, which makes me feel good I guess. Except the one thing I haven’t read much about may be the one thing that’s been nagging at me the most lately. As the father, I am responsible for creating and managing all the multimedia documenting this child’s life. (That is, at least until she gets a cell phone of her own and starts posting inappropriate pictures on the 2023 version of Facebook.) This is a tremendous responsibility, and although I consider myself to be both creative and [somewhat] artistically talented, this task overwhelms me.

Even though there is plenty of pressure that comes along with being the Co-Producer of this child’s life, being the Executive Producer/Director of the Baby Friedman: The Early Years series of movies and slideshows comes with its own set of challenges. In this day and age, there is so much more technology to contend with than my dad had to. I’ll admit, though, in some ways my dad had it hard too. My life as a child, along with my sister’s, was primarily documented by an old school (35mm?) camera (organized by my mom in photo albums) and also an enormous video camera that recorded low quality video onto VHS tapes. The first video camera my dad had even required separate lights and microphones to be set up. So it wasn’t exactly a walk in the park.

Now, though, with improvements in the various media, there also come quite a bit higher expectations. There’s HD video, iPhoto, Final Cut, YouTube, Facebook… Will I be able to keep up with the emerging technologies that come along with documenting every moment of a child’s life? It’s not just all about capturing the first steps anymore. I’ve got to produce some seriously creative stuff. I know the subject will be a good one (any child of Alison’s and mine has got to be a pretty big ham). But what if I miss a great moment? I mean I will literally have a still camera and an HD video camera with me at all times (namely the iPhone), so there’s no excuses for not capturing even a second of cuteness.

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These higher expectations aren’t just society’s — they’re my own. Up until now, I’ve pretty much been content capturing my life (and Alison’s and Princeton’s) using whatever light-capturing device is built into my phone. Sure, we’ve got a point-and-shoot Canon Digital Elph and a little handheld camcorder for some lengthier video-worthy moments. But that’s just not enough for me anymore. I’ve got the next four months or so to become the next coming of Anne Geddes…or at least as good as some of my photographer friends.

That means it’s time to go buy a new camera. Nothing less than a DSLR. And that’s not like picking out whether I want the 32GB or 64GB version of the iPad2. It’s a major decision that I’m not all that well qualified to make. (I’m leaning towards the Canon T2i, in case you have some opinions.) Plus, I will not even know how to use 95% of the camera’s potential at the moment I purchase it. Not to mention my Photoshop skills will have to kick into a higher gear, from somewhere around “I can really only slice up another designer’s images to make a web page” all the way to “I can make my own photographs look high quality and professional.” That’s a big jump, right? On top of all of this, I’ll also have to turn these pictures into brilliant slideshows and add witty captions to the digital albums. Oh, and I can hardly keep iPhoto organized as it is. The amount of pictures is about to increase tenfold. I’m stressing out just thinking about all of this!

On top of all my still-image worries, I also keep asking myself, “Will my iPhone video camera be enough, or do I need to by a Flip HD Camera or something?” Also, “Will short clips on YouTube satisfy me, or will I need to use the appropriate level of Final Cut Pro utilities to make incredibly compelling cinematic motion pictures starring my family?” These are important questions!

I know everything will be just fine once my fatherly instincts kick in. Still, while Alison spends her days and nights feeling kicking while thinking of little baby clothes and all things pink, these are the thoughts that stir around in my head. I can’t wait to annoy the crap out of this kid as I chronicle every moment of her life. I’m sure she’ll thank me eventually.

To say that “my mom has enjoyed shopping for Baby Girl Friedman” would be the biggest understatement ever uttered in the history of the English language. It seems like several times a week, I get a phone call or a Facebook chat from my mom detailing a new purchase via socks, dresses, or onesies. She even mentioned that she couldn’t decide between a pair of colorful, striped leggings and “denim” jeggings and considered buying both (result: she ended up with just the striped leggings… but then returned a separate time to claim the jeggings). Such difficult decisions in a grandma-to-be’s life.

Today, I had lunch with my mom and we both had time to kill after so we embarked on yet another shopping spree for this lucky little girl. Can I just pipe in for a second and say that I don’t think she was ever this excited to shop for me, her own daughter? I guess this is what being a grandmother is all about.

While browsing the racks and ooooo-ing and awwww-ing over every cute butterfly-adorned top and ruffly onesie, I started to notice a trend in baby clothes. Basically, each brand has their salute to all the events and holidays that outline a child’s life. The clothing designers are ever-ready to present moms — and grandmas! — who are in love with cute clothes a calendar in cotton form. While zig-zagging through the aisles, I started to have visions of my daughter growing up in these clothes which served as threaded crystal balls that detailed — or not — some big events.

My life flashed forward to 18 years later. Little Baby Friedman was now college co-ed Friedman (a future Wildcat?) and pledging AEPhi just like her mama! Giraffes are the symbol of my sorority and it would be really cool to one day go to my daughter’s pinning ceremony. And advise her what outfit to wear for a date dash. And inform her that starving yourself for a day and taking lemon drop shots later that evening is never a good idea.

Apparently the baby department decided it was totally acceptable to offer My First Easter bibs but nothing by way of My First Passover bibs. I mean, what baby wouldn’t want a bib to commemorate another Jewish holiday about being slaves… yada yada… bad stuff happening to our people… yada yada… creepy amphibian things falling from the sky… yada yada. But still. What if?! After all, she will be the youngest at the seder table and totally eligible to ask the four questions. Or at least fidget through them. And matzo makes a great pacifier for when she gets fussy. And Manischewitz is so sweet for wine, it’s hardly alcoholic. Look, I’m just sayin’. The Jewish mothers out there would plotz over a My First Passover bib. Get with the program, Carters.

Who can forget that first experience with cake and shoving a giant fistful in the mouth, tasting frosting for the first time and discovering a new form of baby crack? That’s what the first birthday is all about, right? So, here, in plain sight, I found the most adorable first birthday dress. A little birthday confection. A little birthday tu-tu. It’s the perfect outfit. No, no, I didn’t buy it, but I’ll admit that I hope it’s still on the rack in 18 months for when she turns one. And, my wise mother said, “Don’t rush things.” Yeah, like I would ever do that! (This is sarcasm).

Bryan and I plan to raise a socially aware and compassionate daughter. And if she’s anything like me, she’ll love the gays and the gays will love her. I can already picture it now: the theatrical boy in Mommy & Me class will cling to her and they will babble together about musical theater and debate the pros and cons of skinny jeans. So, I chuckled to myself when I saw this outfit, perfect for her first Gay Pride Parade event.

No doubt, this little girl of ours will enjoy the Barbie aisle and have her own stash. I still remember looking at my mom’s Barbies from 1824 the ’60s and being totally fascinated by their vintage details. Now that I see what current Barbies look like, I’m thinking Baby Friedman is going to feel the same about my dolls from the 80s. I mean, look at this modern day Ken … or should I say Bieber Ken! Please, Dear God, come up with better looking Ken dolls and don’t make them look like pubescent, mediocre-singing “heartthrobs.”

So, you see, it’s easy to know what modern merchandising deems important and appropriate in our childrens’ lives. It’s already been laid out for me and some of it’s cute, some of it’s not, and some of it’s annoying. But it sure takes out all the guess work. Okay, maybe not all. I strolled the aisles of Babies-R-Us the other night and almost fainted. We need a whole other manual for that.

Dear Baby Girl,
Today, I felt your first kicks. I was unsure if you were on your way to making yourself known to me from inside because the last few days, I felt something aflutter, but my inexperience also made me doubtful. I was told not to expect to feel you until around week 20, so when I felt your first set of twitches mid-week 17, I had no idea you were about to start socializing with me. Tonight, though, it was without a doubt that your kicks and waves hello were stronger and pronounced.

I stopped mid-conversation with your daddy, grasped my lower right belly, and tried to hold on to feeling you. I wasn’t sure how long your inner-cameo would last. Turns out, what felt like gas bubbles or muscle spasms was a longer series of movement from you. Again, I doubted at first that it was really you, and then realized it couldn’t be gas, as there was no, well, how do I say this?, end result to the sensation. I feel I can be candid with you because, after all, we are connected and you’re probably hearing and feeling all of your mommy’s natural, bodily functions anyway! So after speaking with a few other experienced mommies, we confirmed that those bubbles were indeed your kicks and I continued to hold on for the ride.

Daddy came over and tried to feel you, but you’re still too little to make your presence known on the outside. That’s okay. I think he still likes to hold you from the outside even if he can’t feel you yet. We know that you’ll get stronger and show off your knees and ankles and elbows with jabbing motions soon. We’re both looking forward to that. Our little Alien Baby.

After your short audition to become a Rockette (tee hee!), your big brother, Princeton, came and laid keppe on my belly. I don’t know what kind of sense dogs have about babies, but I sometimes wonder if he knows you’re in there. You’re going to love him when you meet him. He’s soft, and cuddly, and gives the best kisses. And you’ll enjoy laughing at all of his funny tricks and personality. I’m sure he will adore you, too.

Thanks, daughter, for checking in with me tonight. I don’t get to see you very often. Every few weeks or so, we’ll see you on the camera at the doctor’s office, but it’s never enough. The handfuls of days in between go by so slowly and I often wonder what you’re up to in there. As you may or may not know, your mommy is a bit of a control freak (don’t worry, your teen years will still be fun!), so it’s hard for me to go through my weekly routines without having any idea what you’re up to. I want to be there for you, and I know that just by being healthy and getting sleep, I am a good enough help to you. It means a lot to me, though, that you gave me a little sign tonight that things are progressing and you’re living it up inside me.

Please stay in touch. It’s never a bad time to say hello.

You had a big day of activity. Sweet dreams — to both of us — of kick lines and jazz hands. No doubt that’s what you’re up to, my Broadway baby.

Love,
Mommy

So, now that we know we are having a girl, we also know that our CitiBank credit card is going to rack in the miles. As if the world/Bryan’s wallet couldn’t handle ONE Friedman girl in the household, now there will be two! Attention America: Now is the time to invest in the stock market. The Friedmans are going to contribute to the economy and, by default, save the world.

When we found out that we’re cooking a little daughter, we made a ceremonial visit to Baby Gap to pick out Little Friedgirl’s first dose of pink. We’re convinced there will be much more to come, as her closet collection grows. Thank goodness the clothes are tiny in the beginning; that’ll help save room!

Here we are on our first shopping excursion and even her big brother joined us.

Princeton picked out this PJs outfit for his little sister. I can’t imagine why he’s so partial to it…