Our lives are being shared in more ways than one

This Sunday my first parenting column will be published in the Daily Press. I'm sharing the column with my colleague Mark Erickson, and we'll each write two columns a month. Here's a peek at the first:

"A family friend stayed with us over the holidays, and she said something that keeps replaying in my mind.

"Boy, that sure isn’t the Duane I grew up with."

This was after watching Duane, my husband, chase me and our 6-month-old son Brody around the living room while acting like a Tyrannosaurus Rex.

This is our favorite game, because no matter what mood our hard-to-please Brody is in, the shortened arms, clawed hands and whooshing growl of a Daddy T-Rex always makes him laugh. Heck, it makes me laugh.

So, I asked her what she meant, because Daddy T-Rex is the Duane that I know.

"Oh, he’s just never been the type to really play with little ones like that."

I paused. Had we already become unrecognizable to our child-free friends?

For a pair in our mid-twenties, Duane and I have always been on the tame side. I like to go out more than he does, but a night out with a group of his buddies usually satisfies our bar hopping needs for a few months. We spend a lot of time with the large extended family that lives in town and watching a movie on our home big-screen is much better than the sticky seats at the theater.

In that sense, our lives haven’t changed much. But we definitely exhibit the tell-tale signs of first-time parents.

This season, Duane watched his beloved Dallas Cowboys (before they hosed up their playoff chances) standing up with the little guy strapped to him in a BabyBjornÖ . He spends many weekends and evenings as a single parent while I work odd reporting hours. And he shoves down his frozen dinner as quickly as possible so he can take over while my meal is still lukewarm.

As for movies, we haven’t watched one all the way through in months. And while Brody gets more hugs and kisses than a reunited Italian family, hugs between mommy and daddy are more rare.

Church is a weekly trade-off, because Brody would be the only baby in the volunteer nursery, and I don’t want him to interrupt the service. Same goes for eating at restaurants, although we haven’t stopped supporting the fast food industry.

And the "What to Expect" books never predicted that I would no longer watch my favorite TV show, "Law and Order: Special Victims Unit," because it brings on the panicked worry that someone terrible may target my baby.

Watching that family friend also reminded me of spontaneous schedules, free time and a pre-baby body.

But there are vestiges of the old Nicole still there. Like the times Brody isn’t in the car with me and I crank up Kanye West’s latest single, or when I hang out in the bathroom for just a few extra minutes so I can read my book.

So, yeah, I felt sorry for myself for a few minutes. Things have changed more than I expected.
Then Brody did his newest trick. He stretched his arms out and reached for me. His mom. I’m the one who gets to see his smiles everyday, and the one who’s coaching him through tummy time. I make sure he’s being read to before bed, and that his bottles are sterilized properly. If I’m going to be completely honest, I haven’t loved every minute, but I’ve loved most of them.

And although my conversations with friends have changed from gossip about reality shows to the fact that Brody has been having problems with constipation, they should still recognize me. I just have a new name — Mommy T-Rex."

(Thanks Sarah for the material) ;)