How to Survive Your First Solo Outing

So today was the first time OrthoDad flew solo with the kid outside of the house. For those not 'in the know' this is a big deal, because the kid so far refuses to eat from anything other than a boob, and Daddy lacks that equipment. Nevertheless I was supposed to make dinner tonight, and that requires chicken obviously, so I had to venture out to the local grocery store with just myself, Athanasius, and the judging eyes of all the world for company.

While out on our little escapade I learned a few things. I thought I'd pass on the information so that any other nervous papas who are looking for tips on how to come home with the same number of living children as they left with might venture past their front doors with confidence. This information is also helpful for those who look up to and aspire to be the type of father that I am (Epperson).

1) Fill the tank beforehand. I'm not talking about gas. Find your wife, latch that kid on, and don't think about stepping foot form the house until you hear the Vesuvian eruption of burp from his tiny baby lips. This is different if you're one of those lucky fools with a kid who doesn't care about the difference between latex and the real thing, but if you've got a connoisseur like we do, give him a bit of a top off before leaving.

2) Remember to bring the kid. Don't get so lost in visions of how awesome this adventure is going to be and how impressed everyone will find your performance that you take off and leave Jr. strapped in the carseat on your living room floor, looking around with a bewildered look. Not because he's confused mind you, just babies always look bewildered.

3) Tie the kid to you, preferably with a carrier. Those car seats are heavy, and when all you want is some chicken and one bunch of bananas you don't want to be pushing a cart (which will invariably have the one wonky wheel) around. Besides, you're going to put your kid in a car seat, put the car seat in the cart, and then dump that tray of raw chicken on top of him? Carriers are preferred but optional - some creative thinking and a few bungee cords will do the trick, really.

4) Where's your burp rag? In the diaper bag which is slung over your shoulder? In other words its 3,476 miles away. Just out of reach when you discover that the cooing, giggling and smiling your son is doing are not signs that he loves spending time with you in public, but code that he is about to spew forth an unholy torrent of chunky breastmilk all over the canned vegetables. Stick that thing in your pocket, because nobody wants to be the guy who is surreptitiously throwing pilfered bread slices down on the ground in an attempt to soak up the result of their child spontaneously performing scenes from The Exorcist.

5) Bring a change of clothes. Not for the kid - he doesn't care if he sits in his own filth - for yourself. Also for the little old lady who slipped in his goo. Perhaps now she won't sue over her broken hip.

6) Get the goods and get out. No time to let the bakery ladies coo over your kid. Have you forgotten you don't have a food supply for your spawn? The one thing guaranteed to calm him down? Grab the bunch of bananas closest to the self check out and get going.

7) Get home, throw chicken in the fridge, and resume your job of "Singer of songs at an impossibly high pitch because that's what gets him to stop crying." Try Jingle Bells. Works pretty well. If you get the kid to sleep crack open a Dr. Pepper, stretch out on the couch, and toast yourself my good sir - you've done it.