Discovery Channel Won't Give Me My Own Parenting Show

Read Before Signing

2009-05-01T00:28:00.003-04:00

So we signed up our oldest for t-ball. I love baseball and we wanted to get her in some sort of team sport this year so it seemed like a perfect fit. When my wife was filling out the forms she got to a section about "would you be interested in being a coach or volunteer?" When she asked me I said sure, figuring I'd be helping out the coach or something. I pictured being in charge of putting the straws in the juice boxes or something. Then I got an email today and apparently I'm the coach. You'd think having three kids, I'd be used to trying to do something fun and ending up with unexpected responsibilities but it still surprises you.

Now when I say responsibilities but that may be a bit of an exaggeration. My understanding is I need to call the parents to let them know about Tuesday's game, hand out shirts, caps, and schedules, and put the ball on the tee for each kid to hit without catching a bat in the jewels. I'm going to make sure someone brings a video camera just in case I fail on that last one. I don't watch AFV much but ten grand is ten grand.

Anyways, it should be fun. A bunch of little kids learning to play a great game together, what more could you ask for? Plus I'm hoping I'll finally get a chance to recreate that great speech from Bull Durham. Who says dreams can't come true?

P.S. If anyone is looking to bet on the game, I'm predicting a final score of "I don't know how to count yet" to "look, I caught a butterfly with my hat."

The Young Equestrians Club

2009-04-29T19:43:00.002-04:00

I enjoy playing with the kids but I think once the third one starts joining in I'll be in real trouble. I picture those old midget wrestling matches where it's three little fellas against a full sized guy. It sounds pretty funny but you just know the big guy is going to catch a shot in the nads and the ref is going to get bitten on the ass. Although if I got to wear a cool luchador mask it might not be all bad.

Anyways, we were playing the other day and eventually it came time for everyone's favourite game, horsey ride. Basically, I get all the fun of crawling around and basically doing pushups with two youngsters on my back. Lots of laughing, lots of kids falling off and then trying to jump back on. Nothing out of the ordinary until I made the mistake of asking what the horse's name was. A pause while she thought it over and then the big one says "Bunmaster". WTF? I don't know where she got that from but bursting out laughing only encouraged her and I was Bunmaster for quite a while. (Now that I think about it though that would make a decent wrestler name.) You would have thought I'd learn from the mistake of laughing but I don't.

Same game and apparently the little one thought Bunmaster was hungry so she grabbed a couple chips from a nearby bag. Thank goodness they weren't stale. She fed me a couple which was fine. Then came the handfuls. Than came the handfuls while my mouth was still full. The combination of my chewing, choking , and laughing didn't help matters. The big one immediately jumped off my back and grabbed a Tupperware container. She started dumping chips into it and I knew what she was doing. "I'm not going to eat out of a trough."

"But that's what horses do."

So I had no choice. Bunmaster ate out of the trough and everyone was happy. I just wonder what the baby is going to come up with when she gets to play. I think I'll make a point of teaching her that horses like to eat junior mints. If I'm going to have junk food shoved in my mouth, it might as well be the best.

First Round Draft Pick And A Baby To Be Named Later

2009-04-23T23:59:00.003-04:00

Do you have any idea how many law enforcement agencies get involved if you try to trade babies with someone? Depending on if you're talking simply domestic or full on international it can be between 4 and 12. Ok, I'm just guessing on those numbers but I'm sure it's on my list of things to find out. That stems from a conversation my wife had with one of her friends the other day.

She was chatting online with another mom friend from Australia. It was 3 in the afternoon here and about the same time there but in the am. Our youngster was asleep in her swing and hers was awake and cranky. A relateable scenario since it's one that takes place at our house nightly. Being a super problem solver I pointed out the obvious solution that we should just trade babies. Sure, our new kid would have an accent but they speak English in Australia so at least we'd be able to communicate with the kid. (I still have no idea how parents who adopt babies from places like China are ever able to talk to their children. I assume the youngsters come with translators or something.) Apparently my perfect solution brings up all sorts of ethical issues, not to mention a buttload of legal ones. I guess we'll just have to stick with the kids we've got and learn to deal with the sleeplessness. (I must be tired because that seems like way too many ss's but spell check disagrees.) Thank goodness they're cute.

Can't Turn Your Head For A Second

2009-04-17T10:11:00.004-04:00

Don't you just love how an under supervised child will almost always give you tangible evidence about your own misguided belief that "they're fine on their own for a few minutes." Seriously, you just turn your back to type an unnecessarily long sentence and they're covered from head to toe in bright orange 2 for $6 stickers. By the way, if anyone asks you why there's only 999999 roils of stickers instead of 1000000, just tell them you have no idea what they're talking about.

Anyways, you would have thought I'd learned by now from the haircutting incident, the "I'm all spicy" incident, or hte time our youngest shot Mr. Burns. Ok, that last one was a Simpsons episode but still a valuable lesson about both gun safety and parental supervision. I just don't seem to learn though. I just take comfort in watching other people's kids doing stuff they probably shouldn't. A prime example of that was this past Easter weekend. The girls got a chance to play with their cousins. Our oldest just turned four and the twins are almost five so they have lots of fun together. You figure if you've got four kids playing together at least one of them will be responsible. In fact all of them were doing great but then a wild card was thrown into the mix.

The wild card was another little girl in the yard behind where they were playing. She wanted to join in on their fun, as the girls told us when we became curious about why they were all congregating by the back fence. We told them that it was just a day for family and they went back to playing. Before long they were back at the fence though and this time something seemed to be hanging over it. Upon further inspection it was quite obviously a rope draped over the fence. Immediately my wife went out there to tell them not to climb the rope. She assumed the little girl had tossed it over so our kids could climb into her yard and join her. When she got to the fence it was so much better. The girl had indeed tossed the rope over the fence so she could play too. The best part was she had tied the other end to her belt and wanted our kids to pull her over the fence. My kid side had nothing but respect for the creative problem solving involved and would love to have my kids know someone that inventive and imaginative. My parent side though realized my kids come up with enough bad ideas on their own (ok, I may bear some responsibility in that department) that they don't need to get more from outside sources. I just love that it was someone else's kid for once showing less that perfect judgement while left unattended. I only wish the girls had gotten her part of the way up the fence so her parents could turn around and wonder how their little girl was levitating.

I suppose I should get back to parenting and clean up the giant stickertastrophe that is our basement. If you're in the market for a cranky youngster with a runny nose, there's apparently some deals to be had over by the couch, which also appears to be on sale 2 for $6. As I look around the kid, the couch, the TV, my pants, the baby's swing, and of course the baby are all selling 2 for $6 today. Oh crap, the dog's on sale too. Stickers on fur, awesome.

4 Years Old Already?

2009-03-25T09:19:00.002-04:00

So we're now the parents of a 4 year old. Kind of hard to believe since it seems like just yesterday that we were getting used to having a little baby around. Actually, we were doing that yesterday but that was the newest one so it doesn't really make my point. All I know is our little girls seem to grow up so quickly. The cool thing is the 2 year age difference between each means we've got our own little developmental chart. If we get them standing in a single file row it looks like the evolution of man. The problem with evolution is they get smarter.

In the past week or so that's become quite apparent. There was the day I was telling the story of the time our dog peed on another dog. A friend of ours was visiting with her dog, who is ten times better behaved than our dog. Her dog was sitting ever so obediently in the kitchen when Mojo decided to take the opportunity to mark his territory. Apparently in his mind he considered this new dog part of his territory because he let loose right on her. To her credit she didn't' budge which is more than I can say for myself the time he peed on me. So after the story there were lots of questions including if it was a boy dog or girl dog. When I said it was a girl dog there was one more question. "How did you know? Did you check and see it's, kind of, vagina?" On the one hand I was happy to see she understands physical characteristics that differentiate genders and the proper terms for those parts. On the other hand, I was a little concerned that she thinks I would get down on all fours and check out a dog's bits and bites in order to find out if it's a girl or boy dog.

"No sweetie, my friend told me it was a girl and I just assumed she was right." That's what I said after I stopped laughing my ass off. Of course the laughter only encourages her.

She's becoming very aware of how cute she can be and how to use that. Last Monday after the kids had been put to bed my wife and I were in our room watching The Big Bang Theory, easily one of the top 5 shows on TV. With all the laughing we didn't notice someone had snuck into the room and was sitting on the floor. Once we saw her she looked at us with a big smile and said "this is a good movie, can I watch too?" The combination of cuteness and good taste left us with no other option than to say yes. It sets a dangerous precedent but what could we do?

I don't always give in though. The night before her birthday last week I was tucking her in and we were talking about the fun we'd have tomorrow. Apparently, it was very important that she "look pretty" so she had big plans for her outfit. Then she told me all about what I was supposed to wear. She told me I had to wear white pants, a white sweater as well as a bow tie and hat. If she'd given me more than 9 hours notice I might have been able to pull it off. As it stands I'll have to file that outfit away in the memory banks so I can dust it off for a special occasion. I figure birthdays 12 through 18 would be just special enough. That should give me enough time to find just the right bow tie as well as learning how to do the Carlton dance from Fresh Prince. The girls' teen years will be a truly magical time for them.

Bad Influence

2009-03-17T19:48:00.003-04:00

Ok, our youngest is definitely in trouble. I don't just mean the trouble caused by having me as a parent. I'm not always the best influence. For instance, last week I got a timeout for horsing around on the stairs. Honestly though, if you're not supposed to jump down the stair then why are the turning points called landings? It's a good thing there aren't any real spacious landings in our house. When I was a kid we had a nice big landing so I set up some couch cushions and then jumped from the half wall overlooking the staircase. My occasional poor judgement aside, the issue here is the youngest is going to be in trouble when she's older because of her sisters.

A couple days ago the oldest went to use the potty with her little sister following behind. No real problems there. A few minutes later little miss potty trained came back into the room with some news for me. "Daddy, I told Cameron to clean the toilet and there was, uhh kind of, pee in it." As soon as the words were out of her mouth her little sister comes bouncing into the room with a wet face cloth in her hand.

"Oh crap. You know you're not supposed to clean toilets like that. We have a toilet brush to clean the toilet with."

"She couldn't use the brush because I was using it. So I gave her the towel."

On the one hand I can't fault her logic but at the same time I cringe for what the future will hold for our little baby once she's old enough to take orders. At least we can look forward to having toilets that are absolutely spotless.

A Mind Is A Terrible Thing To Waste

2009-03-16T23:14:00.002-04:00

You would think that having three kids in under four years we would remember how it goes. Either my memory is crap or the lack of sleep has ruined my, umm what's the word, head thinking thingy. I want to say skull penis but that doesn't sound right. Whatever it's called, mine is not exactly working at optimum capacity.

It's been a week and half now and it's been a bit of an adjustment. I'd forgotten how much babies like to wake up at night. How often they need to be fed and how many times they poop in a given day. I think that last one is more a suppressed memory than anything else. I've changed plenty of diapers in the past 4 years but this kid can still drop a load that brings me close to the brink. Hats off to the little stinkpants.

Anyways, back to my mental deficiencies. With three kids that like to wake up at varied intervals throughout the night it can cause some confusion. My wife is in charge of actually feeding the baby 9 times out of 10, either by bottle or breast, so that leaves making bottles as my job. The problem is we've got 3 girls that all require different bottles or sippie cups as the case may be. So the other night I get woken ever so pleasantly by a crying baby, my wife's voice, and eventually a well placed shot to the ribs. She asks me to get a bottle for the middle child (who's down to spending only half the night with us). I get up and head to the bathroom to turn on the hot water, thinking I'm supposed to get a bottle for the baby which of course needs to be warmed first. Back in the bed, number 2 and mom are left totally confused. She's sitting there shaking her sippie bottle at the bathroom with a perplexed look on her face before turning to her mom and giving an "I have no idea what he's doing" shoulder shrug. Apparently, I need to start listening to exactly who I'm supposed to be getting things for before springing into action.

If I did, I wouldn't be bringing sippie cups of milk to our newborn, or scooping powdered formula into my wife's water glass. Another helpful tip is if you're going to pour formula into one of those bottles with liners, make sure there's a liner in it first. In hindsight, putting the one with a liner on the counter beside one that was empty wasn't my best idea. Not surprising though since we're being sleep starved into stupidity. With that said I should get to bed so I can get up at 2, 4, and 6 to make bottles, get milk, water, and diapers for people and of course, try to operate the microwave with my TV remote.

And Then There Were Three

2009-03-09T22:02:00.004-04:00

So our newest little girl entered the world last Thursday. Everything went pretty well. We had to wait around a few hours. Not sure why you have to get there so early, it's not like we're taking an international flight and have to go through security or something. On the other hand, we can bring as many pairs of scissors or bottles of lotion with us as we want so it's pretty much a wash.

Anyways, having that time to wait was actually a nice little break. No one asking me to fill their sippy cup or jumping on my back when I'm not looking. Apparently, our middle child has recently made the decision that the only viable form of transportation when it comes to stairs is riding on my back. I'm like Luke Skywalker in Empire Strikes Back with my own little Yoda on my back as I traverse a swampy obstacle course. Ok, the house is actually pretty clean at the moment but you get the picture. The main differences being I don't have the power of the force and the only pearls of wisdom coming from my "Yoda" is "where my bottle be?"

Got a little distracted there. Like I was saying, we got to just relax and watch a movie while. Pineapple Express is pretty funny but if you ask my wife she'll probably say the uneasiness brought on by impending major abdominal surgery took away from the humour. I didn't get that but we don't always agree on movies. Not that we had much time to discuss it because she was taken to the O.R. soon after. The surgery went well. The doctor seemed to put a whole lot of muscle into it when needed (my wife figures he was taking out his frustrations on her) which got the job done. Before I knew it I was holding our little girl while all the king's men went about putting my wife back together again. (Debated about using the actual nursery rhyme quote there but saying Humpty Dumpty would have caused me more trouble than it was worth.) That was followed by a four hour wait in recovery caused by a combination of a body temperature issue, a shift change, and the fact that apparently only one dude in the entire place has a license to push a bed. Seriously, it was easier to find four nurses, three doctors, and an anaesthetist than it was to find someone with the rarified skill set necessary to push a bed that's on wheels. The kids are ticking away like time bombs in the waiting room anxious to meet their new sister but let's play Where's Waldo with the gurney guy.

Eventually, a couple of the nurses moved us over to a ward room where mom and baby spent a couple days. The girls got to see the baby which thrilled them to no end before they went home to crash and I got to stay over at the hospital and got the best sleep I've had in months. After a couple days both mother and child came home which is pretty badassed in my opinion. If someone cut open my stomach and took out something that weighed 7 and a half pounds, I'd be in bed for quite some time. Just point me at the tv and don't count on me for anything. Guess it's a good thing it wasn't me then.

Barack Obama: Beacon Of Hope Or Creation Of Hype

2009-02-19T23:56:00.006-05:00

It was kind of an exciting day around town as Barack Obama made a visit to Canada's capital. It was a highly anticipated visit since the last guy didn't realize Canada was a foreign country and the guy before that was always more into visiting places where the ladies weren't wearing parkas. Yeah, they had some issues.

Anyways, as we all know, everywhere Obama goes, hope is sure to follow. Yesterday, we got some snow. Not as much as had been forecast but a bit nonetheless. Air Force One lands and there's no more snow. A handful of flake may have had the audacity to fall during the day but I believe the secret service quickly dealt with them. Around 6 this evening, shortly after President Obama has left our air space, the snow kicked back up for 15 minutes or so. Now I'd heard all the hoopla about how he pisses sunshine and poops rainbows but I'd always been skeptical. After today I think there may be some truth to it.

The other big thing that happened today hit a little bit closer to home for us. The doctor's office called to let us know our c-section date had been moved up. With the HG and the PICC line, the plan was to book the section for the earliest possible date which was March 5. There were no openings on that day so we were booked for the 9th and put at the top of the waiting list in case someone delivered early. Sure enough someone did and a spot opened up for us. That takes the countdown from 18 days to exactly 2 weeks. The baby getting paroled early like that really put us all in an upbeat frame of mind. There's just something about getting inside that 2 week mark. Whoever the lady was that delivered early though does solidify a theory of mine though.

Barack Obama can induce labour. You honestly think it's a coincidence that he shows up in town and this woman gives birth? Not a chance. If you want further supporting evidence then just look at the pattern of births in the US over the past year. There are significant spikes the week following each of Obama's most public addresses. (Ok, I made those statistics up but you didn't actually expect me to do research did you?) Here's how it works. His words and mere presence radiates so much hope that the unborn child is drawn to it like a moth to a flame. They emerge into the world in search of the source of that overpowering aura of hopeitude (every new word has to start somewhere). That's why I think TV stations should have a warning appear on screen before the State of the Union and any other big speeches. "The following is not recommended for women who may be pregnant. If you must watch please do not stare directly at the President or listen to more than 2 consecutive minutes of his speech at any given time. If you experience contractions either proceed quickly to the nearest hospital to give birth or immediately change the channel to footage of Dick Cheney to stop the labour." I'll have to remember to send the major networks an email tomorrow. I only hope they listen.

T-Minus 18 Days And Counting

2009-02-18T23:31:00.003-05:00

So we're under 3 weeks to go now. I know someone who can count it down to the exact second but I think it means more to her. If I was carrying around a weight on my stomach that punched, pushed, and kicked me from the inside at all hours of the day and night I'd probably have the sort of countdown going on that would make mission control look like a kid with an advent calender. Actually, an advent calender might not be a bad idea. Sort of puts a bit of pressure on the kid but I do enjoy daily chocolates.

I had to step away for a few minutes, not that you could tell I'm sure. They were just showing the best part of the Godfather on AMC so I had to watch. Man, I wish I had arch enemies and the means to have them all wiped out while I'm at a baptism, thus solidifying my power. I probably should have prefaced that by saying "spoiler alert" but if you haven't seen the Godfather by now then it's your own damn fault.

Anyways, baby preparations have been going ahead at full speed around here. Clothes is being pulled out washed and sorted. The crib has been set up in the nursery. We've got our tiny diapers. Those things are awesome by the way. They can squeeze like a thousand of them into the same size package that holds 36 of the bigger ones. Of course, babies poop about a thousand times more often than toddlers so it evens itself out. All I'm saying is we're not going to be stuck like we were with the last youngster. On the way home from the hospital we had to stop and buy diapers, formula, bottles, and just about anything else someone with any sense would have purchased ages before. At least we weren't going through the checkout with everything while she was in labour. Cashiers get kind of weirded out when you do that.

We weren't buying baby things, it was some sort of gummy candy and chocolate i think, but we did go shopping when my wife was in labour with the first one. It was great. I'm paying while she's leaning over breathing her way through a contraction. The eleventeen year old cashier looked a little concerned until I said "oh, she's just in labour." Her expression went from concerned to one of "do I need to boil some water and get towels?" I was tempted to tell her as we left that they needed a clean up in aisle three but that probably would have been a bit much. It gave us a chuckle though. We were still laughing when we went through the McDonald's drive thru on the way to the hospital (not my idea but I wasn't against it either). Just another instance where life failed to imitate the movies. I was expecting some high speed stunt driving as we rushed to the hospital in a panic. All that time watching the Italian Job down the drain but at least the burgers were good.

Scientists Discover Giant Snake

2009-02-06T13:56:00.003-05:00

So I was reading this article that scientists have discovered the remains of some prehistoric "monster snake" in Colombia. They say it would have been about 42 feet long and weighed 2500 lbs. As someone who's never really been a big fan of snakes I must say that's friggin' frightening. The idea of a snake who, at it's thickest point, would come up to a person's hips is a little more than I'd like to think about. A couple thoughts did occur to me though.

First, why did it take them this long to find it? It's the size of a bus. I can understand having a tough time finding the remains of tiny dinosaurs but not giant bus sized things. Unless these remains were hidden underneath the remains of a two bus sized snake then there shouldn't be any excuses. Of course, if that were the case then we wouldn't even be talking about the puny bus snake; we'd be haunted by images of the humongous double decker reticulated bus snake. Personally, I think they just have a big repository full of fossils and some guys working on them like Legos. "Here, take this box of stuff we found and see if you can put together something that'll really freak people out."

"Ok, let's see what we've got here. We just need to put together some horns, wings, a tail, and some big teeth and there we have it. The prehistoric flying beaverbull. Greg, spin the wheel so we can tell people how many millions of years ago it was around."

Of course, if I'm wrong and they actually work to piece together the remains they find without any preconceived notion then this must have been like putting together a jigsaw puzzle only to realise it spells out "I'm going to kill you".

Anyways, the other thing that occurs to me is that I owe Jennifer Lopez and Ice Cube an apology for my criticism of that movie Anaconda that they did. (Samuel L. Jackson however is owed no apology because Snakes On A Plane was just stupid.) I always thought it was silly and unrealistic how big they made the snake in that movie. Turns out I was wrong. As this new discovery proves, it would have been possible for these two actor/recording artists to be attacked by a giant snake (apparently this "monster snake" was actually larger than the one in that movie). All that would be required is some sort of time machine. Of course then we get into the issue of the whole J-Lo Ice Cube space time continuum but I'll leave that to more qualified professionals like Stephen Hawking and Dr. Dre.

I guess the whole point of the story is that 50+ million years ago there were some pretty freakin' insane things roaming this planet. Thanks science, I won't have any trouble getting to sleep now.

Hard To Find World Records

2009-02-04T00:02:00.004-05:00

So it turns out it's harder than you would think to find information about how far or fast a poop can travel. I would have thought both would be valid categories for Guinness but apparently not. Apparently, the book compiled to settle bar bets has standards. I'm sure somewhere there's some drunk college kids with access to a radar gun and tape measure who could give me an answer though.

Anyways, there is a reason why I was curious about those crappy records (puns are fun). It goes further than just general safety knowledge. How far should I stay away from a bare ass I don't trust in order to be safe and how quickly do I need to get there? As a rule, I just try to maintain a minimum 6 foot buffer zone. That's why I bring a stick that length with me when I go in the change room at the gym. I'm off topic though. My sullying of search engines stemmed from a diaper changing mishap yesterday.

Apparently, while I was at work, one of the few times I was happy to be there, our youngest was complaining of a dirty diaper. Upon further inspection, my wife found what appeared to be a tiny poop. She set up the little one for a change, not an easy task at 8 months pregnant. Once the old diaper was removed she sprung into action. What looked like a tiny poop was just the tip of the iceberg. The rest of which shot out like a big dirty bullet, bouncing off our little girl's calf. Startling by anyone's standards. Luckily, it landed neatly in the diaper and did no further damage.

I guess it just goes to show that as parents we all think our kids are the best at things. Upon hearing the story, my first reaction was I bet that's some kind of record; I should really look into that. Followed closely by my second thought; I'd better start bringing my gym stick to diaper changes. You can never tell if those things are loaded or not.

Time Flies When You're Having Fun

2009-01-28T17:58:00.002-05:00

So it's been a while since I posted anything. I wish I could say I've been using my time productively or that it was important stuff that's kept me busy but I'd be lying. The usual duties or parenting, working, and baby arrival preparation has kept us occupied but mostly it's been laziness, procrastination, and a serious addiction to BaseballBoss that's been working against me. Honestly, a free online game that involves collecting virtual baseball cards and pitting the stars of differing eras against each other in simulated games? They might as well have gotten me hooked on crack

Anyways, a rather noteworthy point was brought to light last week. As of this week, we can now register our oldest for four year old kindergarten. WTF? Four years ago we had no kids at all and now we're on the verge of having a child in school? Not to mention the fact we'll have three kids by the time she starts school. Not even half a decade passes and I go from having minimal responsibilities in my late twenties to having three kids and being in my early thirties. Stupid less than 100% effective birth control.

She goes to nursery school one day a week now but that just doesn't seem as big as kindergarten. Having to get up, get dressed, eat and get to school on time every day? I'm not sure I can handle that. Seriously, I'm generally late for work at least once a week and now I'm going to be responsible for getting her to school on time? I highly doubt I'm the most qualified person for the job on this one. Luckily, her mom is used to working in schools so she'll be taking point on this particular mission. Once her mat leave is up and she goes back to work though, who knows what's going to happen. It's lucky that we only live about a block and a half from the school she'll be going to because I expect to have to sprint there with three kids in tow at least a couple times a week when I take over. Guess I'll have to start hitting the treadmill to make sure I'm in shape when that time comes. Of course, the bigger issue about starting school is that she firmly believes she's going to be driving herself to school on the first day in an electric pink Barbie car. I wonder if Avis or Hertz rents those things.

Some Concerns Have Been Raised

2009-01-13T10:19:00.002-05:00

When the baby comes we're going to have to be careful. Well I guess that goes without saying. Caring for an infant and reckless abandon don't usually go hand in hand. Although combining the two could result in some pretty awesome youtube videos. Not to mention visits from child services so there's a bit of a trade off there.

Getting back on track though, we're going to have to be careful because of her big sisters. I had no idea just how many baby dolls we had in this house until recently. Seems like every time I turn around they're pushing one in a stroller, putting one to bed, or feeding one a bottle. Would be nice if it was a toy bottle they were using but it's still kind of sweet. The older one has really taken the whole baby excitement thing to heart. She's constantly talking about how she's going to hold the baby and all the fun things they'll do together. It's to the point that the other day she tried to pick up her little sister. One arm under the legs, the other behind the back and she was trying to stand up. She's kind of freaky strong too because once I helped her get to her feet she was almost able to hold up her 26 lb sister without any help. Eventually physics slapped her in the face and down they went, crumbling into a super cute giggling heap. It goes without saying that we'll have to keep a close eye on her once the baby gets here (March 9 in case you're wondering).

On top of the physical concerns, there's the armchair parenting that goes on. For instance, she's taken it upon herself to make sure we're aware when we say a bad word. Not only that, but if, as an example, you happen to be driving somewhere and use some harsh language to point out the deficiencies of other motorists (more of a responsibility than a right in my opinion) then she's more than willing to let people know about it later. "Daddy said a bad word on the way here." At least she doesn't repeat the word.

That's not the only on board parenting she's been doing lately. The other day one of her parents, not saying who so as not to embarrass her, was driving when the song Baby Got Back came on the radio. As we all know, it's been scientifically proven that it is impossible to not sing along to that song. I've always thought they should play it full blast in war zone or riot situations. Before you know it everyone would just be singing along an shaking their asses. Order restored. Anyways, an unidentified parent was singing along in the driver seat when a voice came from the back. "Do you think this is a good song for kids?" Holy crap, friggin' kid is her own V-chip.

All things considered, she seems to have her unborn sister's best interest at heart which is nice. We just need to help her hold onto the baby and she'll keep the baby free from obscenities and inappropriate lyrics. Her little sister, on the other hand, has gotten into the habit of tossing her baby dolls into the air which she thinks is hilarious.

"Yeah, I think we're going to hold off on you carrying the baby. How about some Sir Mix-A-Lot to distract and entertain you?"

A Good Night's Sleep

2009-01-07T08:49:00.002-05:00

Ok, here's a little math problem for you. Both my kids and the dog add up to a total of 80 lbs tops. I weigh over twice that much so how did I end up with a small section of the king size bed and a corner of the blanket last night? The only answer I can come up with is that kids expand when sleeping. It's like those foam dinosaurs you put in water and they grow to like eight times their size.

Here's what happened. The kids went to sleep fairly easily, always a nice treat, and slept pretty well. Following the normal order of things my wife, who is really looking forward to not being pregnant, was next in line for dreamland. I stayed up to watch the Daily Show, new episodes yay, and try out Xbox Live for the first time. Yeah, I just love getting my ass kicked at a video game by an eleven year old. It's even more fun with the added feature of a headset so you can hear them too. "Good job junior. You have fun with the whole first person shooter thing. I'm going to go watch R rated movies and maybe purchase some alcohol or tobacco products."

Anyways, after a while the older one starting calling out from her room. She wanted a drink but after that she started complaining about being afraid of the dark. I pointed out that she had nightlight and that the bathroom light was on so she could go potty at night if she needed. "I'm scared of the dark in my closet. Can I sleep in your room?" Well played. I was left with only one option. We piled into the bed which already had my wife, the baby "in her tummy", the dog, and the little sister in it. Add the two of us and it becomes a sleepy struggle for space.

Three bedrooms to choose from but we're all within arms reach. I guess I can't complain too much though. I only had one kid shoving against me for space. My wife had a kid switching between cuddling and pushing her away while she was also getting kicked in the stomach from the inside. Compared to that my little blanket corner seems like a friggin' dream come true.

Happy New Year

2009-01-01T10:58:00.003-05:00

New Year's Eve isn't exactly a parent friendly celebration. Toddlers tend to slow you down when it comes to drunken partying late into the night. A stinky diaper will clear some space for you in tight quarters so that's a plus. It's not a big concern of mine though because I've never been big on New Year's. I don't drink, I'm not a big fan of crowds or parties, and I don't like the idea of New Year's resolutions. How about this for a tradition, we take the time to look at our own perceived personal deficiencies and vow to do things differently this year. Basically, it's pick one of the following: I'm going to a) eat better b) exercise more c) lose weight or d) quit smoking. Then try to make it out of January without breaking your pledge. Good times.

Anyways, our evening was pretty tame but good. We started out by ordering Chinese food for supper, as we do every New Year's Eve. Tried a couple things we hadn't had before, no idea what it was, and discovered why we hadn't tried them before. Always fun to give someone six dollars and ask tell them to go cook something to try and make you puke. It's the chance you take when trying new things I guess. (Nobody was close to vomiting; we just didn't care for whatever it was.)

After supper we played a bit and then it was bedtime. I took the older one and my wife took the little one. She got hers to sleep fairly easily and I fell asleep in the bed with mine. Just the little nap I needed to help get me to midnight. Certainly needed some help because it was a piss poor night for TV watching. For some reason the TV networks assumed people wouldn't be watching TV last night. Go figure. We ended up watching the Forgetting Sarah Marshall movie which was hilarious. A little more male frontal nudity than I expect to see in a movie but it certainly helped move along the story and added to the laughs. Kids kept waking up though so it took about an hour longer than it should have to watch. Not complaining because that just got us that much closer to twelve and the dropping of the ball. That's the two traditions we have is ordering Chinese food and watching them drop that ball in Times Square.

I've got to say though that watching Dick Clark's Rocking Eve has just gotten sad. I'm not just talking about the fact it gives even more media exposure to Ryan Seacrest. Since his stroke it just makes me sad to listen to Dick Clark ring in the new year. On one hand it's nice that he's still able to get out there since it's his thing but I still find it hard to watch. It's not as hard as watching Seacrest but it's up there.

Overall, I'd say it was about as good an evening as it could have been. We both stayed up until midnight, the kids pretty much slept through, and there wasn't any vomiting. With two young kids and an HGing wife the upchucking was the big question mark so it was a happy new year indeed.

As Exciting As Christmas Morning

2008-12-27T23:35:00.003-05:00

"What's that? A candy cane on my bed? There's presents under my tree? I know what that means. Mom, Santa was here! Santa was here!"

That's what we heard Christmas morning. At 4:50 am. She was pretty excited by it all. Her sister on the other hand had to be woken up at 6 because we couldn't hold back the older one any longer. Guess which one was my favourite child that morning. Actually, I slept in like the little one did. My wife was up with the older kid because she was just as excited as the kids were. That's the way it's always been and I don't see it changing anytime soon.

So we got downstairs and they were both super excited to see what Santa had left them. We let them get into the stockings and start organizing presents according to the names on them. Good thing Nanny, Bampy and Uncle Ry Ry showed up quickly because we couldn't have delayed the present opening much longer. If we'd known how long opening everything would take I think we might have started a lot earlier. It was a process of unwrapping the gift, getting excited about it, and then asking "can you open this so I can play with it?"

"Not right now. Finish opening your presents and then we'll worry about getting stuff out of the box."

Which brings me to a pet peeve, actually a huge piss off, of mine. Toy manufacturers suck. They use tape, twist ties, bolts, screws, and anything else they can find to securely attach the toys to the boxes. The toys are held in place more securely than my kids are when we're in the car. You need to be some sort of freakin' safe cracker to get a toy out of its box nowadays. Ok, maybe it's not that bad but it certainly takes more finesse than just yelling "get out of the box you stupid piece of crap!" at it. Believe me, I have personally verified that fact. Repeatedly.

My other big problem with toy makers is stickers. How hard would it be for those lazy bastard to just paint a picture of a light switch or a stereo speaker on the wall of the dollhouse? The dollhouse that "requires some assembly". It's not bad enough I have to get all Extreme Home Makeover and put a house together from scratch but then I'm supposed to decorate it. I don't watch that show but I'm pretty sure they've got a separate team for that job. Good thing their uncle was there to help out or I would have just thrown stickers wherever I deemed fit.

"Daddy, why are there twelve light switches in the kitchen and stereo speakers in the bathroom?"

"Because I got very little sleep last night, there's twelve more toys over there requiring assembly, and Mattel hates parents. Merry Christmas sweetie."

It's all worth it though when you get to watch them enjoy playing with it for a whole fifteen minutes before moving on to another toy. If only they'd be excited about getting a stick for Christmas. All the joy of their reaction with none of the work sounds like a win win to me.

That's why I give the award for best reaction to a present to their Bampy (grandfather for those of you who don't speak infant). He got a real nice looking hdtv that he was pretty happy to get. He was so happy that he cried a little bit. Can't blame him though. A big cool present like that which requires minimal assembly, provides hours of fun, and doesn't require a single sticker at all sounds like the perfect present to me. Makes me a little misty myself just thinking about it.

Surprise

2008-12-19T11:43:00.002-05:00

When it comes to gift giving, and guerrilla warfare, the element of surprise is crucial. You can't expect to crush the oppressive ruling class or get a real good reaction without it. Not quite sure which one of those applies to gifts and which to warfare. Christmas shopping is a lot like war too in that you're thrust into a sea of humanity going every which way in a hectic mass of noise and chaos and in the end you're left wondering if it was all worth it. It's enough to drive a person insane enough to start punching out carollers. I'd advise against that though because I believe that results in a fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-lawsuit. I don't know that for certain but to quote Jay-Z, as I often do, I ain't passed the bar but I know a little bit.

Anyways, I was talking about the element of surprise. In particular, how I lost that advantage yesterday. I went shopping with the girls and we picked up a couple things for their mom. On the way out to the van we had a conversation about not telling mom what we bought today. A Disney princess chocolate to seel the deal and all was well. We got home and they showed off their chocolates, talked about the stuff we'd seen, and held up their end of the deal. For a couple minutes at least.

"Mom, are you going to put your pictures into that thing we got?"

Damn it.

"Sweetie, remember how we talked aobut not telling mom what we bought? Well how about shutting up then?"

I guess I'll just have to return that real nice camera we got her then. Too bad because it was awesome.

It doesn't end there though. After we got home my wife went out to do some shopping. She picked up something called a V-Motion for the kids. It seems like a toddler version of a Wii. Not nearly as high tech and educational but it still seems cool. Plus since I guess it's a game system I assume we can look forward to them releasing a Grand Theft Auto game for it at some point. Grand Theft Auto: Dora Edition. "Swiper, no swiping. Swiper, no swi...holy shit he's got a gun. Run Boots, run!" It should be awesome.

So before my wife and the girls could go out in the van to pick up her brother from work (thanks a lot OC Transpo strike) I needed to sneek it into the house. I threw my coat overtop of it and got it inside without incident. Then went on their way and all was well. Or so it seemed. They got home a few hours later (again, kudos to you OC Transpo union). As my wife was going through the process of de-winterizing the kids she told the older one to go upstairs so they could get ready for bedtime.

"I can't."

"What do you mean you can't?"

"I can't, I'm looking at this really cool thing on the stairs."

That's about the time my cellphone rang and I got the greeting "What kind of moron leaves a present out on the stairs?"

Damn it. I put it there when I brought it in and made a note to myself to hide it away before I left for work. Well, needless to say I forgot. That left us scrambling to explain why it was there and, more importantly, who it was for. I said to tell her it was for Toy Mountain so kids who don't have toys could have it. When she got that news she was fine with it. Pretty proud of her for that since we know she'd like to have one and it is a "really cool thing". First thing this morning though that's what we did, went down to the mall and she put it in the tent so some other kid could have it.

So my own forgetfulness, some might say moronitude (spellcheck wouldn't say it but it can shove it up it's dictionary), worked in our favour. It helped the kids learn that Christmas is a time for giving. Just wish it didn't cost me $50 to teach that lesson. I stopped at the store on the way home and picked up a second one for them. After she was so willing to give away a toy she wanted without even a question what choice did I have? Good thing I returned the wife's super nice camera or I'd really be upset about the cost.

Just One Of Those Days

2008-12-15T15:01:00.003-05:00

You ever have one of those days where you understand why it's a good thing you don't own a gun and live within walking distance of a clock tower? I don't think either of those were conscious decisions but after yesterday I'd have to say they were wise ones. That sort of thing never turns out well for anyone. I'm getting ahead of myself though.

The day started out fine. I got up with our youngest and we went to the basement so the others could sleep. We had about a little over an hour to play and watch some tv with inappropriate language. There's not as much of a risk of her repeating things as there is with her big sister so I can get away with it. There's no way I could watch something like this or that with the big one around. She'd be singing at the top of her lungs as soon as we got anywhere crowded. "Happy holidays everyone." So after everyone got up it was soon time to get ready to go to a Christmas party.

That's where the day turned on me. I went outside to warm up the van: no big deal. It wasn't that cold though so I decided it didn't need to be warmed up that much and I turned my attention to shovelling the snow we'd gotten the night before. I cleared away a nice pathway and then went to open the van. And that's when I noticed I didn't have the keys anymore. Yep, I had dropped them into the snow. I dropped them into the snow and then tossed the snow/key combination into a snow bank. That meant I got to spend the next forty five minutes sifting through the snow. At least a needle in a haystack isn't freezing cold. As the minutes ticked away I got colder, more pissed, and more stressed as we had the party to get to. I'm sure you're thinking why not use your spare keys? Well, those were the spare keys. The other ones have been missing for about a week now. Certain people seem to think I'm responsible for those ones too but I'm not convinced. In light of this latest keytastrophe though I don't really have a leg to stand on. My only real hope is to find them and then frame someone else.

Anyways, the keys turned up and we went to the party. It was a kids party at the car dealership where the girls' grandmother works. It was pretty fun. They had a big inflatable obstacle course which the girls actually enjoyed for once. They don't usually like the sound of the air pumps. Worked out for me though because if you accompany a child people don't get upset about a grown man climbing around in there. The other big draw for me was the food. I had some of the best sandwiches. Actually, does a chocolate brownie stuck between two kinds of bread, gingerbread and shortbread, count as a sandwich? If you answered yes than you may want to contact a doctor, a dietitian, or Jarrod from Subway. I don't care though because they were friggin' tasty.

The party went well. Some entertainment the kids didn't watch because it was too loud and then Santa showed up to hand out presents. They both like their toys but it didn't make the ride home fun. The guy who thought it was a good idea to make Barbies with removable shoes is a friggin' tool. Every two minutes I got to hear about how a shoe fell off. Needless to say, I was more excited than usual to go to work when that time rolled around. That changed when I got there to find out one guy had called in sick and the other wouldn't be in because he was getting evicted. Don't get me started on that one. Throw a busy night and all sorts of piddly little piss-offs on top of that and the result is me not getting home until 3 am. All in all the day sucked.

So it was a crap day but there were still things to be happy about. The invention of the GBS, gingerbread brownie shortbread sandwich, would be one. Grocery stores that are open 24 hours with fully stocked bakeries and a freezer with Ben and Jerry's Half Baked ice cream is another good thing. Next on the list would be the comedy of Ricky Gervais. I watched his HBO special yesterday and it's hilarious. Between that, the Office and Extras I'd say he's helped me avoid more than a few freak outs. Dexter helps in that department too. It's awfully cathartic to watch a likable serial killer murdering evil doers. Thank goodness all those can be found on Sundays because I really needed it yesterday.

Oh, family and loved ones are good too.

9 Year Old Gets A Movie Deal

2008-12-12T11:07:00.003-05:00

I was reading the story of that 9 year old kid who wrote a book about how to talk to girls. Seemed awfully silly to me but I could live with it. Then I got to the part where Fox studios bought the movie rights to it. The deal was apparently in the "low six figures". WTF? This little bugger gets a truckload of cash for his homework? I don't know anything about this kid but I know I don't like him.

This whole thing is just a bad idea for several reasons. First, achieving that level of success at such an early age sets him up for a big case of Orson Welles syndrome later on. If not being able to measure up to Citizen Kane drove Welles to eat himself to death then I can only imagine the effect this will have when this kid grows up. You know, when he's 12 or 13 and hasn't published a book or written a movie in a few years. Imagine the pressure of peaking at 9. Second, no 9 year old needs that kind of money. Honestly, how many transformers, or whatever the kids are playing with nowadays, does one kid need? Sure, his parents will probably do the right thing and set the money aside for his college education or something but it still feels wrong to me. Finally, this puts an awful lot of pressure on his teachers from here on out. Suppose the next story he writes for a class totally sucks (fingers crossed). How does a teacher slap an F on the kid who sold his homework for more than they'd make in a year? Teaching is tough enough without having your student's work being evaluated by critics across the country.

I'm sure by now you're saying that I'm just jealous. Well, you're god damn right I'm jealous. Can you blame me though? He sold his homework and now he's got enough money to pay off most of my mortgage. So yeah, I'm indulging in the deadly sin of jealousy. Actually, it makes me want to do nothing but sit on the couch and eat cookies so I might have sloth and gluttony covered too. Three out of seven just because of one stupid book.

It does inspire me though. I want nothing more now than to have some dumbass movie studio buy the rights to the stupid crap I write. I've got the perfect name for it already. It'll be call "Look, I Got Some Jagoff Studio To Make A Movie Out Of Some Stupid Crap I Wrote Too You Little Bastard". Directed by Jon Favreau and starring Neil Patrick Harris.

Seeing Is Believing

2008-12-09T08:14:00.004-05:00

I noticed I haven't posted anything in over a week so I guess the addition of all the getting ready for the holidays activities aren't very conducive to blogging. That and I'm lazy. Anyways, today's big philosophical question is would you rather have kids you behaved in public and saved their dickishness for home or vice versa? Obviously, the best case scenario would be kids who behave both at home and out in the world but that's about as likely as me being named prime minister. After all the crap that's gone on in the last few days I think if I just show up down at parliament hill at the right time of day I may get the job. Of course, I'm pretty sure I flunked political science so I might be wrong about that one.

Back to the point, the question of where's the better place for the kids to play the a-hole card occurred to me last week. We were out shopping and a lady complimented my wife on how well behaved the kids were and how nicely she spoke to them. Kind of a weird thing to come from a total stranger in my opinion but nice nonetheless. My first reaction though was to think "how about you drop by the house at bedtime before you start tossing out statements like those". Sure enough less than four hours later one is jumping on our bed and wiggling her butt in the window while I'm chasing the other one, who happens to be completely bare assed, down the hall. I don't recall exactly what I was saying as I tackled our little nude sprinter but I can guarantee it wouldn't be considered "nice" by too many people. Needless to say, I think that woman is an idiot.

As I type this I can hear my wife pleading with our youngest to lie down and go to sleep. She's not cooperating with either request. Apparently those would interfere with her plans of not listening and being a huge pain in the ass. Seriously, you'd normally need some sort of pharmaceutical ointment to deal with rectal discomfort of that degree. I wish I could say at least he big sister listens but there's been more freakouts, flipouts, and timeouts that I can count to disproof that theory. Then she comes home from nursery school where we hear about how well she behaved and how the other kids were "climbing on the climbers when they weren't supposed to but I didn't".

"That's super. Are you going to listen to rules like that around the house? Yeah, I didn't think so either."

And so we're left in a parental state equivalent to Big Bird. Their unruly behaviour is our Snuffleupagus. Nobody else really sees it, so nobody else really believes it. In the meantime I'm getting pretty good at chasing down and catching naked youngsters. Not exactly the sort of thing you want to brag about to too many people but what can you do.

He Sees You When You're Sleeping

2008-11-30T23:38:00.003-05:00

The last weekend of November and it appears the holiday season is upon us. Christmas lights are twinkling on rooftops all over the neighbourhood. Holiday music echoes throughout the over crowded malls. I'm not a big fan of Christmas music, malls, or crowds so guess how happy I am about that one. And of course the store Santas have emerged from their yearly eleven month hibernations. That's a fact; look it up. Anyways, all that means it's time again to try and get the kids to cooperate for a picture with the jolly fat man.

Past history made me believe this was a futile endeavor. Hell, you'd be hard pressed to get a smile out of me if you took my picture with some stranger. Let alone if I was supposed to sit on his lap. With that in mind we went to a Christmas party at a museum on Friday. It was the museum of science and technology which the kids like on a normal day. Add some holiday decorations and activities and you've got a party. They made reindeer out of clothespins and candy canes out of pipe cleaners and beads. By they I mean we wound up making them. If I had a nickel for every time I got together with some friends on a Friday night to do crafts. The reindeers turned out nicely but I just didn't have the patience for the candy cane. Mine looked partially eaten, not to mention no real colour pattern. Guess I'll have to work on it for our next craft party.

So in addition to the crafts and snacks (one of my favourite things about Christmas time is the food) they had a Santa for the kids to sit and take a picture with. From the standpoint of roominess for the lineup the train exhibit was a good choice. Not the best location to ease people's fears though. A big dark room full of great big trains; who wouldn't be totally at ease? Needless to say the girls didn't want to wait around for Santa. Worked for me, the line was crazy. Apparently not as bad as the one at the mall though.

They waited for 75 minutes for their chance to see Santa. Thank goodness I was working. I wouldn't wait in a line for 75 minutes to get a life saving organ transplant, let alone to get a picture taken. We all figured they'd freak out when it was their turn to go up and see him but they just had to prove us wrong. They smiled for a lovely picture and even told him what they want. The older one wants a Gotta Go Doll and her sister wants a car and a doll. Considering how much they exceeded our expectations I think it's a pretty safe bet they'll get what they want.

Who Doesn't Love A Parade?

2008-11-22T22:55:00.004-05:00

We went to the Santa Claus parade this morning. Usual sort of stuff; lots of happy kids, cold weather, lots of candy canes being handed out, and holiday cheer aplenty. Of course, as we all know, the first rule of the Santa Claus parade is don't talk about the Santa Claus parade. Oh wait, that's the first rule of fight club. Considering how things went though it's oddly appropriate.

So we got our things together and headed downtown to watch, like we do every year. Not having to pay for parking always thrills me so that was nice. Thrilled a lot of people judging by how full the parking lot was. After finding a spot, we bundled up the kids in their sweaters, winter jackets and snow pants. All that going on top of a couple foundation layers applied at home. It all came in handy when we reached the street. I'm not a meteorologist but I'm pretty sure the thermometer was somewhere around friggin' cold. Lord knows I love to stand in the cold and watch things pass by me really slowly. My ideal parade would be one where everything stays in one spot and then I can run alongside so the parade could be at any pace I feel appropriate.

Anyways, we staked out a spot and waited for our friends and their kids to get there. The gave me plenty of quality time with our oldest to try and coax her out of the stroller which was covered with a blanket "tent of security". She does not like loud noises which made the horns and sirens awesome. Apparently, she still remembers how Canada Day went down so she kept asking to make the noises stop. "Uh sweetie, that's a police siren. He's trying to clear the parade route and I'm pretty sure he won't like if I tell him to knock it off." After a while she agreed to come out from under her canopy of safety. The agreed to terms being that she have on earmuffs and a toque to black out the noise, I hold her the entire time, and we go into a building to get away from the loud noises. That last one was the clincher for her and a lie on my part. It worked though so I'm ok with it.

By now our friends had gotten there and we were all getting situated. That's when some lady next to us asked us to move our stroller so she could sit down. I use the term ask loosely as her phrasing was more along the lines of "well, I'd like to be able to sit next to my kids." Not an unreasonable expectation but we'd gotten there early to ensure room for all of us and quite frankly her request came across as very over seasoned with a little spice I like to call bitch. When the dad of our friend couple pointed out to her that we'd gotten there first so had every right to the space she got confrontational. I remember the words "are you being rude at a Christmas parade?" leaving her mouth. Things started to get a bit heated and our mom friend tried to get in between them. In doing so her arm came in contact with the crazy lady (or as she put it "she grabbed me first"). Of course her perfectly logical response was to turn and throw a punch into our friend's chest. Let me repeat that; our friend got punched in the chest at a Santa Claus parade. (Funny how ordinary words can be grouped together sometimes and not simply defy logic.)

After the punch was thrown my wife went to relay the incident to a passing police officer who didn't seem too interested in it. The crazy lady saw this and went to tell her side. Her side involving crying and leaning into the officer who had no choice but to console her. "Just go back and try to enjoy yourself" is what I believe he said to her. Can't say I blame him in either instance. If my job was to keep a parade route clear I wouldn't want to have to referee a battle between onlookers. His advice seemed to help as she sat down and everyone pretty much left well enough alone. Of course we all had to take turns standing to obstruct her view of the parade but that goes without saying. The parade itself didn't go too bad. We had to leave before the end because the little one's mittens did a piss poor job of keeping the cold out but the just meant we got to avoid the insane line up strollers waiting to use the parking garage elevator that always follows the parade. A win win in my books.

So it was a weird parade this year but a definite learning experience. First, if you don't mind missing the end of the parade you can avoid spending twenty minutes waiting for the elevator. Second, if you invite someone to a holiday parade they wind up getting punched, you're going to feel a little guilty. Third, and most important, if you go to a Santa parade and in telling people about it afterwards you use the phrase "and then I punched her", then maybe parades aren't for you. Some sort of anger therapy or conflict resolution strategies might be a better use of your time. Either way, it'll be interesting to see if next year's parade live up to this one.

An Open Letter To The Producers Of Criminal Minds

2008-11-20T22:31:00.003-05:00

Dear Criminal Minds Producers,

First thing's first, I like your show. It's one of the only crime shows I can be bothered to watch beside CSI. That combined with my schedule means I sit down with my wife most Wednesdays to watch your show. That being said, I have one complaint. QUIT DOING EPISODES WITH KIDS. Seriously, it seems like every other week at least one kid is abducted or murdered. As a parent I have to say KNOCK IT OFF! It's a cheap way to try and get viewers emotionally involved that is quickly becoming a crutch for the show. You're better than that or at least you should strive to be.

Ok, my motivation is a selfish one. Those episodes hit a little too close to home for me since, as I said, I have kids. Of course that means I'm instinctively paranoid and suspicious of everyone else when it comes to the safety of my kids. If you look close at their photos with Santa you'll see me standing in the background keeping a close eye on that jolly bastard. So the last thing I need is you guys feeding my own paranoia, especially with a weird looking Jason Alexander. Am I the only one that thought he was a bowtie away from looking like a long-haired Colonel Sanders? He did a good job but I kept waiting for him to blurt out his blend of eleven herbs and spices that makes his chicken finger licking good. Either way the stuff with the kids still struck a nerve with me. Hell, I'd be less creeped out if you did an episode where someone was only killing guys in their 30's named Dave. Even if it was just Daves in their 30's who loved sports and wrote blogs it still wouldn't hit as close to home as the kid stuff does. So one more time I ask you to please QUIT IT ALREADY.

Thank You

P.S. How much of a dick must Patinkin have been to get booted off the show?

At The Movies

2008-11-16T10:14:00.002-05:00

So if you go to a matinee of Madagascar 2 on a Tuesday afternoon, how much of a dick do you have to be to be bothered by kids making noise? That's the question we were asking ourselves this week. We went to see it and the little one was really into it. Lots of dancing, laughing, gasping, and yelling at the screen. The childless couple ahead of us didn't seem to appreciate it as they turned around a couple times to cast a disapproving look or two. They didn't say anything though but I would have loved to see them try and justify their stance. "I just want to spend a relaxing afternoon at a children's movie and I'm being disturbed by youngsters."

"Uh, yeah. That's the biggest joy we get as parents is having our kids ruin things for those of you that don't have kids. Now turn around and keep watching the movie in your non syrup stained clothes or I'll get out the McDonald's tie in toys that don't have an off switch and let the kids play with them until the credits finish and the lights come back on." Oh, what could have been.

Anyways, the movie was excellent. I definitely recommend it, whether you have kids or not. The little blurb on the commercial that says it's "better than the first" is right on the money. Even in cartoon form Chris Rock, Andy Richter, and Sacha Baron Cohen are hilarious. Especially the last two in this movie. Of course I think we enjoyed watching our little one getting so involved in the movie. Quite the contrast to her sister who was curled up on my knee because it was "too loud". She was brave and watched the movie but she didn't quite get into it the way her little sister did. A good time for everyone though.

So yes, go see Madagascar 2. And if someone in the seat ahead of you is annoyed by your kids just follow the example set by one of our youngsters parents, not naming any names but it wasn't me, and kick their seat a couple times when they turn back around. Yeah, the kids are pretty much set in the role model department.

A Pregnancy Update

2008-11-11T22:54:00.002-05:00

Bed rest is really very misleading. It sounds nice but there's nothing very restful to it. My wife got to learn this when the doctor she saw at the hospital on Friday recommended bed rest for the weekend to ease the contractions she was experiencing. I'm trying to figure out how to get a doctor to prescribe a video game playing/sports watching treatment for me but so far WebMD has been no help coming up with symptoms that would require that. The search continues though.

Back to my wife's story, she went into triage on Friday evening after dealing with contractions on and off for a few days. Once the frequency and severity got alarming it was time to get checked out. That resulted in the aforementioned bed rest. I can only assume the logic is that sheer boredom will result in her body cooperating again. After reading whatever was lying around and watching the movies we rented for her, that new Indiana Jones and Baby Mama, she had to resort to the TV. She got so desperate that she watched I Am Legend. She loves Will Smith but has always been reluctant to watch this one because she's not real big on, as she described them to me after she watched the movie, hordes of creepy bastards that looked like Ted Danson. I still haven't seen all of the movie so I'll have to take her word for it on the Ted Danson thing until I see the end. I've only watched about the first half hour or so, just Will and his dog in an empty Manhattan. I assume there's some action once the creepy bastards get into the picture. I also assume it ends with Will surrounded by the mob of creepies until DJ Jazzy Jeff and Alfonso Ribiero show up to save the day. I imagine they whip the crowd into a frenzy and then lead them in a well choreographed dance routine similar to the zombie in Michael Jackson's Thriller video. This would give the Fresh Prince time to somehow save the day which would somehow involve getting jiggy with it. Then again, I do have kids and we all know parents just don't understand. Got really sidetracked there but at least I enjoyed it.

Anyways, she saw her doctor this morning and she's off bed rest. She's supposed to take it easy though which means she's done working. She's now on sick leave from work which will then turn into maternity leave once the baby comes. Not exactly the way we'd planned it but it seems like the best case scenario, all things considered. At least she'll have plenty of time to read and watch movies which is nice because I'm kind of interested to see how that I Am Legend plays out. From what I've heard, I mean written, about the ending, it sounds pretty awesome.

It's A Girl....Again

2008-11-05T23:40:00.002-05:00

According to the ultrasound today we're having another girl. I take her word for it since I've never been very good at picking stuff out in those pictures. Even if I could figure out what's going on down there I wouldn't know what to look for anyways since I have no idea what a dangle looks like on one of those pictures. I never had any doubt about the sex of this one though. I don't have a problem with having three daughters either but I reserve the right to amend that statement at a later date because, as someone so kindly pointed out, I'm going to have three teenage daughters running around my house in about 13 years or so.

Let's put that into perspective. In thirteen years, I'm going to be a Tutti away from being Mrs. Garrett. That's right, you take the good, you take the bad, you take the rest, and there you'll have my life. Actually, it'll probably be more like towards the end of the show when it wasn't funny so that would make me like Clooney then. Ok, the show was never funny; I just wanted to cast myself as Clooney. In reality, if I had to perform some emergency room tasks to save lives there'd be more than a few casualties. And if I had to rob a casino vault, a museum, or another casino the best I could do is probably come up with like 7, maybe 8 guys tops. Certainly nowhere near the double digits I've been led to believe is required. Anyways, the point is I really enjoy the entire Ocean's trilogy. Wait, I think I got off topic there.

Ok, a third girl, that's right. The big upside on this one is I've already got experience raising girls. With the older one being three and a half and her little sister almost two, that gives me five and a half years of experience parenting girls. Throw a third into the mix and by the time the firs one reaches her teen years I'll have like 30 years under my belt. Keep your criticisms of my math to yourself; it comforts me to think this way. Another big upside of having three girls close in age is that I should only have to do hugely embarrassing things once when they're teens. If not all of their friends witness it for themselves, they'll certainly hear about it from someone. That means I'll only have to show up to one math class in my pyjama pants and rattiest t-shirt to deliver the anti-fungal ointment my little darling forgot to bring with her. I figure if I do that for the middle child then the kids a couple years ahead and a couple behind will both hear about it, thus spreading out the damage to their social status. Of course, that should only be a concern if any of them have met my rules for qualifying for dating eligibility. Namely, they have to be able to kick someone's ass before they're allowed to date. I don't care if it's some sort of martial arts, self defence, kickboxing, wrestling or some really cool ultimate fighting type combination thereof. If they want to date then they'll have to learn something in that ballpark.

Of course, the downside is that while I'll be learning from one kid and using that on the others, they'll also be learning how to manipulate me or get around the rules and pass that on to each other. Considering they'll have the advantage number wise it's kind of intimidating. Luckily, I'll have backup in this little adventure so I can always play my trump card. Go ask your mother.

Injustice Anywhere Is A Threat To Justice Everywhere

2008-11-04T12:17:00.003-05:00

Since Halloween I've been eating more candy than I really should. Probably more than anyone should. It does lead me to two observations though. First, we need to do a better job next year of counting the number of kids in the neighbourhood. Hopefully, a more accurate headcount will curb our candy purchasing and leave us with little to none left over. Second, and most important, why don't the mint chocolate people take part in Halloween?

I've been enjoying Halloween candy for more than a couple decades and I don't once recall eating anything minty. Pep, andes, junior mints and the rest all abstain from Halloween. Even the mint aero bars are part of this boycott. You can't knock on three doors without getting a "fun sized" aero bar so would it kill them to shrink down a couple of mint ones? Would the technology involved completely throw off their profit margin? Of course not. All signs point to a conspiracy in the candy industry. Somehow mint candies have been blocked out of participating in one of the major candy holidays, either by choice or intimidation. My investigating, by which I mean, crazy unconfirmed theory, leads me to believe the major confectionery companies have joined forces to systematically exclude mint from the cavalcade of candies handed out every October 31. In exchange, mint gets to take centre stage at Christmas. Personally, I think that's crap.

There's no reason why chocolate mints can't be enjoyed all year long. (Don't even get me started on the Cadbury creme eggs) I say enough with holiday specific candy discrimination. Let us as the consumer decide what is and is not appropriate for the time of year. Isn't choice one of the cornerstones of a truly free and democratic society?

Don't get me wrong, I'm a firm supporter of all the chocolate combos. I'm a big fan of the marriage between chocolate and peanut butter. I fully support the gay marriage between chocolate and coconut. I don't even have a problem with the freaky threeway between chocolate, peanuts, and nougat. Heck, throw some caramel and cookie into that big orgy and I wouldn't even bat an eye. I just believe that combining chocolate and mint, specifically in junior mint form, is the pinnacle of what's possible when it comes to candy. To exclude them from Halloween, or any holiday, is an injustice I can no longer ignore.

Basically, I've had my fill of peanut butter cups and would love a junior mint right about now.

Happy Halloween

2008-10-31T10:13:00.003-04:00

As I sit here in my spider-man outfit, complete with mask, a thought occurs to me, Hey it's Halloween. I guess I'll have to put away my everyday spider-man suit and break out the special occasion one. Even if that was true, I'm sure I wouldn't be the first person ever to post something on the Internet while dressed as spider-man. For some reason I imagine director Kevin Smith dressed that way as he posts on his website. To make up for that quasi insult here's a free plug. Zach and Miri Make a Porno, opening in theatres today. There, now at least 6 people know about his movie.

Anyways, getting back to the topic of Halloween, I've never been a big fan. I like the idea of going out and getting candy for very little effort but I'm not so much into the scary aspect. I don't generally watch scary movies and I've never been one for scary costumes. As a kid, I generally dressed up as super heroes for Halloween. One year I got brave and decided to be a vampire. The idea of wearing a cape was the big selling point for me. The big drawback was the fake blood. When it came time to put it on, I had a meltdown. Mom is standing there with a tube of fake blood as I'm crying in the corner trying to keep her away (let me take this opportunity to point out I was 8) while my little sister is laughing her ass off. It didn't take too long to realise the makeup was a lost cause so I went trick or treating as the world's first hemophobic vampire. More of a concept costume than anything else. Needless to say, that little childhood trauma has soured me on Halloween. I'm doing my best not to pass that on to the kids though.

They're both excited about dressing up in costumes. They enjoy candy too. It's having all sorts of ghosts and ghouls roaming the street that I think may present a challenge. I'll try not to be scared though. Both girls like their costumes so much that it'd be a shame for it to go poorly. The little one is a butterfly, or buttaby as she says, and her big sister is a witch. She picked it out herself. That came as a bit of a relief. We got a flyer in the mailbox from some costume place a couple weeks ago. She was looking at all the costumes that were shown on the cover and telling me what they were. "She's a ballerina. That one's a cowgirl. She's a princess. She's a fairy." The problem is they were grown up costumes and all I could think was that's great but they all look like hookers to me. If that's the direction Halloween is heading then I'm not looking forward to her selecting costumes when she's older.

What's wrong with the costumes they had when I was a kid anyway? You throw on a plastic pullover Batman, Superman, or Lone Ranger costume, put that flimsy plastic mask with eye, mouth, and nostril holes on (careful not to snap the elastic string that held it in place) and you're good to go. Head out to collect a garbage bag sized sack full of sugarbetes batter. Ah, the good old days. The 80's were a simpler time. Oh well, the costumes may have changed but at least I can count on my kids going out and feeding my sweet tooth tonight. "Yeah, that candy isn't the kind you like. And that one you're allergic too. Oh, that one made you sick the last time you had it. Here, you love trail mix. Make sure to share with your sister."

First Snowfall

2008-10-30T13:08:00.003-04:00

So we had our first snow of the season. Exciting times for the kids; not so much for the rest of us. It was so exciting that our oldest ran downstairs and threw open the backdoor. The big problem there is that we have an alarm system. As soon as that door opened the alarm went off. That meant I got to tearass down the stairs to shut it off and then into the kitchen to comfort her. She slammed that door shut right away and was quite distraught by the time I got there. So thanks to her fear of sudden unexpected loud noises she now has a fear of doors, snow, and the outside world. At least we don't have to worry about that one running away.

Actually, she was fine after we explained how the alarm works. Left out the part about deterring burglars; no reason to cause a bigger problem while solving a little one. Once she calmed down she had only one thing on her mind, let's go play in the snow. Like all kids I loved playing in the snow. As a parent, that enthusiasm has weakened a bit. It's been replace by my hatred of snowsuits, snowpants, winter boots, and my new arch enemy, mittens. I understand now why kids mittens only have a slot for the thumb and the rest of the fingers all get jammed together. I would lose my friggin' mind if I had to put each individual ringer into a different hole. That's why my big winter clothing rule is no actual gloves until you can put them on by yourself. Mitts suck enough as it is. It doesn't help that they're the last thing to go on. I'm already nice and frustrated from putting sweaters, socks, snowpants, winter jackets, and hats. All of that with minimal help from the kid I'm dressing. Ever try putting boots onto a kid that's providing no resistance? I get to see how flexible she is as I push her leg up over her head or I get to slide her across the floor like some weird broom while fighting to squeeze her foot in.

The best part is they find it funny when I struggle so they help even less. As we all know, laughter makes frustration so much better. Reminds me of the story Dad likes to tell about when Mom was pregnant with me. She couldn't squeeze around the car to get in while it was in the garage. That meant Dad had to back it out. They were late for whatever they had going on. In his haste he failed to close her door before backing out. Actually, he forgot to close his door too so when he backed out they both got caught on the garage door's frame and bent backwards. So he's fuming and Mom is in the driveway with a friend beside themselves with laughter. As Dad likes to put it, if he'd been able to get either door off the car I might not be here today.

With that in mind as I struggle to winterproof the children I'm left to wonder, how bad is hypothermia anyway? If they lose a thumb then my mitten problem would be solved anyway. Yeah, I know that's not the best solution. I guess I'll just have to suck it up and keep bundling the youngsters before tossing them out into the snow.

Oh crap, now one of them has to use the potty. All that fun in reverse with the added fun of a ticking timebomb. I gotta go.

Happy Wiggle Day!!

2008-10-26T23:43:00.005-04:00

"It's Wiggle day, it's Wiggle day!"

That's the sound that rang down the hall to wake us this morning. That of course means she'll finally stop asking every morning if it's Wiggle day. That's been going on for at least a month. That was when I made the mistake of mentioning we had tickets to their show. Every day since has been one big countdown. In my opinion, it was worth the wait.

We've been to quite a few of these kid show things, some free, most not. The free ones of course being just appearances. There was the time we got to meet and have pictures taken with three of the Backyardigans. That didn't go too bad. The big one freaked out of course because they were basically just big mascots. Her little sister was less hesitant. The beauty of it was that when we took a picture there was some little girl in the shot who passed for our oldest from behind. To this day she talks about how fun it was to see them and how Tyrone patted her on the head. I just wish we'd gotten the little girl's contact info so we could use her as a stand in for things like that. Then again, with Photoshop we can pretty much fake any pictures we want. "Remember the time I fought Godzilla and saved everyone Daddy?"

"Sure do sweetie, it was awesome."

Back to the show though. When it comes to these live show/capade type things there's a few area the Wiggles beat the others on. First, when we go to one of these and have no choice but to get some little light wand or stuffed doll for the kids, I like to know it's not going to fall apart before we leave the building. Looking at you Diego. If you're going to overcharge people for some little twirly piece of crap then the least you can do is make sure everything is glued on tight. Forget animal rescuer, I want to go see the Go Diego Go, competent manufacturer show. Anyways, the second are where the Wiggles win out is authenticity. It's actually them performing, not some dude who looks like the character or someone in a costume. Sure, they have a built in advantage because they're not animated characters like every other kids show personality but that's beside the point. Now stop distracting me with the physical limitations of the world we live in. All I'm saying is it feels more meaningful when it's actually the Wiggles up there on stage driving the Big Red Car. Who knows how many Diegos or Thomas the Trains are touring the globe at any one time. We can be certain when we're seeing the Wiggles that we're the only ones seeing them at that point in time.

That brings me to my third area or praise, they put on a hell of a show. All sorts of costume changes, tons of interaction with the kids in the audience, and all sorts of jumping and flipping. The pirate guy's entrance was jumping out of a castle window and sliding down some curtains. The blue wiggle kept trying handstands and even did some acrobatics on the rings at one point. (I know all their names; I just didn't want to look like a big lose by saying Captain Feathersword and Anthony) All that effort pays off too because the kids went nuts for them. Our two were laughing and dancing the whole time. Just like every other kid in the place. That's why they can charge so much at these things. Watching your kids having the time of their lives makes you forget all about the $4 you just paid for a bottle of water. ("How about I give you $1 and you just give me an empty bottle and directions to a faucet?") Ok, almost forget.

Overall, Wiggle day was great. The show was entertaining, the girls' Dorothy dolls haven't fallen apart, and they loved the whole thing. I didn't get peed on, thrown up on, or have a youngster crying for an hour and half so I enjoyed it too. I would definitely recommend it.

P.S. For the sake of full disclosure, we went to their show the last time they were here a couple years ago and this one was a lot different. Both good shows but it's nice to know they're not just doing the exact same show over and over again. Not sure what it says about me that I can say the two shows are a lot different but whatever.

Sharing Is Caring

2008-10-24T11:01:00.003-04:00

We do our best to try and teach the girls to share. It seems to work more often than not, with the older on at least. The little one is more into trying to assert her dominance by not backing down. I'm pretty confident we can put an end to that before she decides to take that show to the playground. I don't have any interest in being the parent of the playground bully who knocks out the kid who's playing with the shovel she wants.

Anyways, sharing took a surprising turn yesterday. Whenever one of us is laying down with a blanket on, our oldest asks us to make a leg crib for her. That just means we make room between our legs so she can lie down. That's what happened yesterday, my wife had a blanket on as the had quiet time before bed and she had to make a leg crib. The big one settled into place. Her little sister eventually noticed what was going on and headed over. Expecting a fight to ensue, my wife asked big sister to share with little sister. Surprisingly, she did without any argument, rare indeed. She didn't just share the leg crib; she got up and let her sister have it.

"That's very good sharing. What a nice big sister you are."

That's when the truth came out. "That's ok, she can have it. I farted in there."

A sweet act of sisterly kindness turns out to be an odour-filled booby trap. Can't get mad at her though. I'm kind of proud that's she's pulling off something like that when she's only three. Besides, who among us has never farted on a sibling's blanket or pillow? Think about that the next time you go to bed and see if you get a good night's sleep, Katie.

All Aboard

2008-10-24T10:42:00.002-04:00

So the pregnancy seems to be progressing well. Of course, in pregnancy that means nobody has killed anyone yet. It's a roller coaster ride of mood swings combined with extreme exhaustion and, in our case, a constant threat of vomit. My wife has had some of those symptoms too. The cool part is that the kids seem to understand that there's a baby in Mommy's tummy. Actually, they understand more than we think.

Yesterday, my wife was talking with our oldest. They were talking about the baby. She said to our little girl "One day when you're a lot older you'll have a baby in your tummy too." That seemed to elicit some strange looks so she tried to clarify what she was saying but got cut off.

"I don't want to have a baby in my tummy."

"Why not?"

"Because I want to have energy."

Apparently, she'd rather be able to run around and play than have kids. Another instance where she was more aware of what's going on than we gave her credit for. Personally, I'm all for anything that gets her on board the abstinence train. Little bugger's not even born yet and it's already paying dividends.

Palin On SNL

2008-10-20T15:49:00.003-04:00

I just have to talk about Sarah Palin's appearance on SNL. Quite simple, I loved it. If you haven't seen it you can check it out here. I can't say that her actually being there added anything to it. The stuff with Wahlberg giving Andy Samberg crap for the impression of him was a lot better than anything Palin actually did. That being said, I give her credit for being there.

Tina Fey's Palin sketches have been the highlight of the show all season long. They've gotten huge buzz online and plenty of mainstream discussion on the 24 hour news channels. Every comedian out there is making jokes about her but none have gotten as much attention as these things. A couple more and I think she'll be entitled to a writing credit for the show. So with SNL hanging its hat on her this year she still showed the guts to walk right into it. Something the current President Bush or Dick Cheney has not ever done. Granted, they've been actively harmful, to put it extremely mildly, while she's just been amusingly oblivious, so far. I suspect that if Bush or Cheney ever did appear on something like The Daily Show, Jon Stewart wouldn't be able to just make jokes. Honestly, if he couldn't resist calling Tucker Carlson a dick on live TV (skip ahead to about 6:10 if you don't want to sit through the whole thing) then what chance would either of them have at some good natured joking around.

Back to Palin though. She went into a hostile environment knowing she was going to be made fun of. Hostile may be a harsh word for it but just look at the total lack of interaction between her and Tina Fey. They crossed paths with little more than a nod. Compare that to when Hillary Clinton was on sharing a scene with Amy Poehler's Hillary Clinton. Poehler seemed genuinely excited about the situation. Not hard to tell which way everyone's voting there. So yes, she gets credit for showing up. That's about where it ends for me though.

When it comes to actually doing anything, she was less than impressive. She made fun of Alec Baldwin: how hard is that? Alec is the most talented Baldwin brother. That's looks as impressive on a resume as a gold medal won at a track meet for the obese, an accomplishment he may also be in the running for. There, I zinged him twice and I wasn't even trying. The best thing I can say is that she didn't look awkward or robotic while hip hopping along to that rap on Weekend Update. I friggin' loved that rap. I'd put it right up there with dick in a box or Natalie Portman rapping as one of my favourites from the show. She wasn't able to get through it without cringing at the criticism though. She was biting her lip, which cracked me up, after the line about how she built a bridge, it ain't going nowhere.

So yes, she did seem to have a sense of humour about herself, to a degree. And she went on a show that does not support her and makes a living making fun of her which took some courage. It was also a heck of a way to get people to talk about something other than a report about your abuse of power I guess. I think the more telling fact about it all though is that they had so much to make fun of her about considering she's been in the picture less than two months, and doesn't answer any questions from the media. If she ever does start talking to reporters they'll have to expand the show to two hours.

Lose Lips Sink Ships

2008-10-17T10:36:00.002-04:00

My oldest totally ratted me out the other day. Tuesday was election day and personally I was not real eager to take part. Both at a national and local level I was not inspired to throw my support behind anyone. The Conservatives are jackasses and the fella running in our area, running for re-election, is a little twit. The Liberals have a "leader" who's about as inspiring as a chess team pep rally and their local candidate is a jackass. He tried to run as a Conservative a few years ago but our current Conservative MP got the nomination instead. Add to that the fact he did minimal campaigning and didn't take part in any of the all candidates meetings and I can't imagine why he should have gotten a vote. My own personal conspiracy theory is that he was only running as a Liberal to help ensure a victory for the Conservatives. I don't have any proof of it; I just wanted to throw it out there. That left NDP and Green party as possible votes. Based on the demographics of this area I'd might as well cast a vote for a contender on So You Think You Can Dance. I've never watched that show but I assume they have the audience vote, like every other show in that genre.

Anyways, so I had no intention of doing my civic duty by taking part in the democratic process. The big issue for me though was keeping my political apathy a secret from my wife to avoid any kind of lecture. So I told her I voted in the morning and she should just go vote on her way home from work. The problem with that was she decided to park at home and walk to the polling station, along with our little blabber-mouth. They were on the way in when Chatty Cathy asks "Why are we going in here?"

"We're going in here to vote, like you did with Daddy today."

"I didn't come here with Daddy."

Damn it. I'm sure there's a lesson in there about always telling the truth but that's not my major concern. Now I'm going to have make the transition from liar to conspirator. I can't just be less than truthful. I have to come up with a cover story for my co-conspirator to tell if asked. Friggin' kids make everything so much tougher. Maybe next time I'll just go ahead and do what I should have without being forced to. Thanks a lot kids. So glad you learned to pay attention and talk. I'm pretty sure the next one has a good shot at being my favourite. At least until he or she learns to talk.

Thanksgiving Dinner...Yum

2008-10-13T22:20:00.003-04:00

Why do kids and cars never cooperate when you take them in for service? They'll make all sorts of weird painful sounding noises all day long but as soon as you get inside a waiting room they're purring like kittens. I'm left with some dude in his special work outfit looking at me like I'm some sort of idiot. "I swear the little bugger was sputtering and spewing out all sorts of awful stuff earlier. I put some oil in so I guess that must have fixed it. Oh, you're a pediatrician not a mechanic? Are you sure?"

So we sat down to have a nice thanksgiving dinner yesterday. We worked all day on the turkey, stuffing, potatoes, carrots, and pies. I can say "we" because I peeled the potatoes. In front of the tv while watching football. Which reminds me, can someone please explain to me why the Dolphins' "wildcat" formation seems to be so friggin' hard to defend? They've got two castoffs and a pothead in the backfield but if they line them up oddly the defense suddenly looks like the defenders falling all over themselves on the Cosby Show as they try to tackle Rudy. (Couldn't find a clip of that on Youtube but you know what I'm talking about)

Anyways, the food was all set out on the table so nicely. We were all settling in to our seats. My brother in law was about to pass the turkey when it happened. Out little one, who'd been pretty cranky for most of the day, threw up on me. Actually, threw up doesn't quite paint an accurate picture. Basically, she took everything that was in her stomach and in four good heaves put it all over me. I probably had time to get out of the way of her last three digestive show and tells but I'm at a point where it's now just instinct to step in front of the vomit. Like I've said before it's easier to clean my clothes and take a shower than it is to scrub the carpet or mop the floor. To those in the room it may have seemed like concerned parenting but essentially it was my own cleaning laziness that overshadowed any common sense or self preservation. The motivation isn't really important as the result was still me covered in my 20 month old's stomach contents. Needless to say, I didn't get to eat. Not sure how much anyone else ate but I take it as quite a compliment that anyone ate at all after witnessing that little display at the dinner table. I can take it as a compliment because I did peel the potatoes which means I get a cooking credit.

After stripping off my new vomit suit and getting her dirty clothes off of her I was able to get her to settle and nap a bit. That gave me time to call work and tell them I'd be a little late. Little tip, if you call work and tell them you'll be late because you've just been thrown up on you will be laughed at. Also, they won't ask any questions at all. "You got thrown up on? Just take a shower and show up whenever you want." So I did. Got there about fifteen minutes late and stayed for a whole hour. That's when I got the call.

My wife called to let me know that the little one was inconsolable and needed to see a doctor. Since it was Sunday on a long weekend that meant the ER of the Children's Hospital. ER's in a regular hospital are generally an interesting and often entertaining place to hang out. The ER of a children's hospital is just sad. All sorts of sick and injured youngsters; not even a jerkass like me finds it funny to hear what's wrong with everyone. Actually, that's not entirely true. A children's hospital is one of the few places you'll hear questioning like"Do you know what you put in your ear? Do you really not know or you just don't want to tell me?" It's a good thing I was preoccupied with my own kid or I'd have had to interject.

"Maybe if you speak into his other ear you'll get an answer."

Anyways, to make a long story (I mean a five hour wait) short, she perked up while we were waiting to be seen. Her fever lessened, she wasn't crying, and she didn't throw up after eating so we took her home. Being a long weekend meant that lots of sick kids were streaming in from all over (from what I saw, it was a bad day for arms). Both my wife and I didn't feel like waiting around to have our youngster make us look like liars to the doctor so we all went home. Turned out to be the right decision because she went right to sleep and has seemed fine since. Fingers crossed she doesn't start making any more weird noises. Ditto for the car.

You Deserve A Break Today

2008-10-10T13:42:00.003-04:00

MacDonald's now has a triple chocolate muffin that includes Oreo cookie crumbles on the top. I applaud them for embracing the fact their food isn't good for us. Honestly, if you're going to MacDonald's for a muffin, why are you kidding yourself? Just take the stance that it's 7 am and I'm in the MacDonald's drive thru (they embraced poor spelling long ago) for breakfast so I may as well just go all out. I'd like to see them take it a step further. "Try our new triple chocolate muffin. Guaranteed to give you sugarbetes." In case anyone's curious, they're pretty tasty.

So we took the kids to MacDonald's the other day. Not just MacDonald's but the one with a playland. I have no idea how combining fast food and running around a play area could possible go wrong. I'm still shocked that I haven't witnessed any youngsters throwing up there. That's not to say it hasn't happened; I don't want to know what goes on inside those giant tubes. Our oldest is at the point where she can maneuver around the tubes with no problem. She's no longer scared by them and has a blast any time she gets the chance. The younger one hasn't quite gotten there yet. She's agile enough to get around but is still kind of hesitant. Lucky for us she wants to do everything her sister does so she dives right in. They disappear into that maze of PVC and we're left trying to figure out where they are by catching glimpses through the strategically placed portholes.

We were doing a good job of keeping track and big sister was doing a fine job of acting as Sherpa. For a while at least. Then suddenly "Tenzing Norgay" makes a break for the summit and little "Edmund Hillary" is left in the middle wishing she'd just brought a GPS. A short time later Tenzing pops out of the slide and we're left to ask where she left her sister. You'd think a Sherpa would know that pointing doesn't really help answer our question but that's about all we get. Thankfully, the tube system's acoustics allow us to hear our little one and let us call to her in an attempt to guide her through. With my wife calling to her from the bottom of the slide and me acting as spotter, we locate her just short of the peak. My motioning for her to climb up and go down the slide don't seem to work. We sent her sister up to retrieve her but that doesn't work. Clued into that when the big one cam "weeee"ing down the slide.

A couple more failed rescue attempts and I'm beginning to wonder what the protocol is in this situation. Do they have a crack team of trained staff that comprise an emergency rescue crew? If so, am I supposed to press some kind of alarm or do I just go up to the counter? "Hi, can I get a double cheeseburger with fries and the MacDonald's elite search and rescue team to get my kid out of those tubes? Oh, and that triple chocolate muffin looks good, I'll take one of those."

As much as I'm enjoying the imagery of Grimace and the Fry Guys springing into action, I'm pretty sure that's not the case. If anyone is going to have to squeeze into those tubes it's probably going to be me. My wife chose to play the pregnancy card on that one. My hope is restored when little Sir Edmund starts to turn around and head back down the way she came. We send her Sherpa sister up to help her but that backfires. Big sister realises we're leaving once little sister is safely out so she helps her go back up. Stupid Sherpa. Just reinforces what I always say "never trust anyone from Tibet." (I've never said that before. I just threw it in there in a desperate attempt to have the Dalai Lama leave feedback.)

Luckily, the big one only got a couple more slides out of it before her little sister finally gave in and attempted the big slide. We grabbed them both, threw on their shoes, and made a mad dash for the parking lot. Of course we got a couple triple chocolate muffins on the way but other than that we got out of there as fast as we could.

Clean Bill Of Health

2008-10-07T18:06:00.002-04:00

Is it wrong that I was a little disappointed the kids weren't sick when they woke up yesterday? Jeez, don't be so quick to say yes like I'm some sort of idiot. Like any parent, I want my kids to be healthy and would never wish them to be ill. Certainly not anything with a lot of throwing up and discomfort. It's just convenient sometimes to have them slowed down a bit by a cold. It's like performance enhancing drugs in reverse. With them in a lethargic state, suddenly I'm superman instead of being overwhelmed. I don't know why Barry Bonds didn't try that as a defense against the steroid allegations. "I didn't take any drugs. I contend the opposing pitchers had an adverse allergic reaction to whatever virus has caused my head to swell and that made it easier for me to hit homeruns." I'd send that one to him but I've always thought he was a big time a-hole so he's on his own.

Back to the whole sick kids thing, sunday they were feeling a bit under the weather. We thought it was the downward slope of an illness but apparently that was the low point. Some coughing and complaining as well as napping. That was friggin' sweet. Getting both kids to nap at the same time is like an eclipse for me. It rarely happens, doesn't last long, and will burn your retina if you stare at it too long. I'm not positive about the last one. If both kids are napping at the same time, I'm not going to waste it by staring at them for an extended period. Instead I took advantage of that little gift and watched the end of the Colts game. A big thank you to the players on both teams for waiting until the last five minutes to put on one of the greatest turnarounds ever. I know they didn't do it for me but telling myself that little lie makes me feel important so what's the harm?

Anyways, I was fully expecting to have a couple sick, tired kids to hang out with yesterday. That wasn't the case. It was disappointing because they get cuddly when they're sick. I went to bed with visions of napping on the couch with the kids as I watched what I wanted on TV. I woke up to two recharged maniacs ready to run, play, and jump on me anytime I wasn't looking. You know how to ruin a pleasant afternoon nap? Have a 35 pound youngster jump off a table onto your stomach. If I'm lucky she lands on my stomach. Worst case scenario she jumps further than that and I get two feet planted squarely in "dadland". I'm rolling in pain as she laughs and asks why it hurts so much.

"It hurts because you hit me right in the... the jewels."

"You don't have any jewels."

"Not anymore."

The worst part is I remember being a kid and how funny it was when my Dad got hit down there. Heck, half the videos on youtube prove that point. (If you click on the link and see that first video, I just have to ask what the hell is with japanese gameshows? At the very least it's an innovation that would make Wheel of Fortune watchable.) And that only makes it worse. Pain coupled with guilt. At least it takes away some of the guilt I felt about wishing the kids were a little sick. It would be nice to have a couple cuddly kids to nap with instead of having to wear a cup all the time.

Helping Out Or Passing Judgement?

2008-10-03T10:49:00.004-04:00

When did my oldest decide to take on the role of backup parent? I'm not sure if I should be happy or offended. It's nice that she wants to help her little sister but it does kind of give the impression that she thought to herself "oh jeez, this idiot needs someone to step in." Funny how it's not diaper changing time when she steps up. I guess she has been paying attention to me. I'll have to be more discreet from now on when I smell a stinky bottom and check the clock to see if it's almost time for Mom to be home from work. A kid comes running to give you a hug with a smelly diaper, you have to change it. I don't make the rules, I just exploit them.

Back to the big one parenting the little one though. Yesterday we went to their Thursday play class. The plan had been to go from there to another play group. I learned last week that if you take them to two different play groups and then spend a couple hours at a playground bedtime is super easy. Comes in handy when, as an example, you want some peace and quiet so you can the season premiere of The Office, for example. So we're in the van leaving play class number one and the little one is freaking out. All sorts of crying and yelling that doesn't seem to have any conceivable cause or solution. That's when the older one stepped up and started asking her sister where she'd like to go. She's listing all sort of places like the museum, the mall, the park, and even somewhere to go see animals. Each one is met with a negative response. Finally, she asks "do you just want to go home?"

"Yeah."

"Ok, we'll just go home then."

Thanks for letting me be apart of the decision making process guys. I thought being in the driver's seat meant I was in control but apparently I'm nothing more than a glorified chauffeur. The ride home it continued.

"Just calm down, we're almost home. We just have to stop at those lights and then turn and we'll be home. When you feel the bumps you'll know we're home."

Is she reassuring her sister or giving me directions? She thinks I'm an incompetent parent with no sense of direction? She might be right on the first one but my sense of direction is at least good enough to find my way home. It's not like I'm the sort of person who gets lost in a Christmas tree display at Canadian Tire. That would be my Mom. She was leaving Canadian Tire with Dad one holiday season. He turned right and she turned left, right into a bunch of fake Christmas trees. He turned around when he heard her calling from the middle of the trees "Darryl, how do I get out of these things?" Needless to say we no longer let her go into a garden centre without a compass and a fully charged cell phone.

I wish I could say our van ride was the only example of being second parented by a toddler but I can't. The little one has somehow gotten the idea lately that she's the only one who should be allowed to watch tv. She'll stand right against the screen so no one else gets to see. That of course angers her sister and fighting ensues. Generally, they like to do that when I leave them alone so I can get stuff done. I'll be in the laundry room or kitchen and hear the two of them yelling, screaming, and eventually crying. I come running as quick as I can to break it up. I'm usually tempted to Terry Tate one of them to separate them but I've resisted that urge, so far. Once I've got them separated I have to try and explain to the little one why she can't stand right in front of the TV. Since 20 month olds are all about logic an reason that usually goes smashing. I'm doing my best with no luck when her big sister, seated calmly on the couch, says "tell her to look at my face", as she makes the saddest face you've ever seen.

"See, it makes your sister sad when you don't share the TV with her." That seemed to make a bit of an impact and eventually led to the end of the whole TV hostage situation. Just glad I had backup to help talk her down so I didn't have to let the snipers take their shot.

So that's where I am. Stuck with a 21 month old who feels it's her responsibility to decide who gets access to entertainment and her older sister who seems to believe I need her help when it comes to parenting. Not sure that's the kind of path I want to be on but my oldest tells me it's a good idea so it must be. Her guidance and cues have been pretty good so far.

Ask And You Shall Receive

2008-09-30T19:31:00.002-04:00

So does Arizona Cardinals head coach Ken Whisenhunt read my blog? After the beating his team took last Sunday (oops sorry, that hit on Boldin was a cheapshot), I can only assume the answer is yes. After a frustrating single point loss in fantasy football last week I asked in one of my posts for his team lot let Coles score four touchdowns on Sunday. He scored three, for the first time in his career. The only conclusion I can reach is that he read my post and did what he could to help me. Thank you very much, three was more than enough to help me win. I guess it just goes to show that sometimes you just have to ask nicely.

That's a lesson that came up this morning. My oldest woke me up this morning by asking if she could have a brownie. We made brownies yesterday so that was fresh in her mind. Of course I said that she had to have breakfast before we could have brownies. That led to some whining so I got ready for yet another screaming, crying, whining battle against sanity and logic. As I reached into my holster for my nice shiny, fully loaded "because I said so" gun, she surprised me. She calmly started listing off her reasons for having a brownie.

"I should have a brownie because I really like the chocolate. I like that crunchy part. And I could have a little one while you cook breakfast and then I can eat breakfast."

"Motherfu.."

I know brownies first thing in the morning are never a good idea. I've never actually consulted a nutritionist on the topic but I'm pretty sure that question would elicit a blank stare of disbelief or an "are you seriously that stupid?" However, faced with such a well thought out and calmly presented argument I had no choice. I had to positively reinforce that kind of behavior and let her have a little brownie before breakfast. So it wasn't a great job from the standpoint of good eating habits but it was definitely a good learning experience. She learned that is she calmly and rationally come up with reasons why she should get her way then her chances improve. Asking works a lot better than crying or demanding. And I learned that the next time we make brownies I have to make sure I eat them all before the kids wake up the next morning. It won't be easy but we all know that as parents we have to make sacrifices.

P.S. Since last week worked out so well I'll try again. So this week if the coaches of Baltimore, New Orleans, and Houston could give up two or three touchdowns each to White, Peterson, and Wayne, respectively, I'd really appreciate it.

Happy Birthday To Me

2008-09-28T11:29:00.003-04:00

It's funny how birthdays change as you get older. When you're a kid it's a magical day filled with presents, cake, and parties. As you get a bit older people use it as an excuse to do a lot of drinking or, in my case, go out to see a movie or something. Once you have kids though there's not as much of that other stuff. Our big birthday outing yesterday was a trip to an orchard to go apple picking. Not exactly the sort of birthday celebration you read about in People but definitely fun.

We met up with some friends and their kids there. I had a lot more fun watching them laugh and play than I would have at any movie that's out now. The idea of watching the kid from Holes running for his life for a couple hours doesn't really peak my interest. Throw in some robot cars and it's a different story but until then I'll take apple picking with the kids. Like I said, they had a blast. The oldest actually went on the tractor ride, thanks for peer pressure. Once she saw her friend jump on she was willing to try it. By the end, we had to go on it again just for her. I think peer pressure gets the short end of the stick. Sure it leads some kids to drink or do drinks but if it means I don't have to worry about getting peed on during a hayride then it's worth the risk in my opinion.

The other big crowd pleaser was the hay jump. Basically, it was just a little barn full of hay for the kids to jump around in. It's what a ball pit would be if Chuck E. Cheese had opened it's first location out in the country. Sounds like the beginning of one of those "you know you're a redneck if" jokes to me. Of course, that advantage ball pits have is I don't recall having to work so hard to get the plastic balls out of my kids' hair when they were done. For that matter, I don't remember finding balls in a diaper when I changed them later on. Wish I could say the same about the hay. Thanks to my two little hay magnets I now have my own haystack at home from the pieces we pulled off them later. All I need to do is toss in a needle and let the fun times roll. That's probably not a good idea judging by how much my kids seemed to enjoy throwing hat at each other, as well as at just about anyone else. Wouldn't it be great if you could do that as an adult? Just out of nowhere dump an arm load of hay on someone. Everyone laughs and suddenly you have a new best friend. Too bad because I've got lots of hay now.

Our other big adventure yesterday was going out for supper. It went pretty well, for a while. The problem with taking kids to eat out is they have a cut off point after which they are only capable of crying and whining. They don't tell you where that point is though so it 's a bit of a gamble. It's like eating with a ticking timebomb, or the game perfection, at the table. You just know at some point there's going to be an explosion. We were pretty much able to finish eating before the clock struck zero. I waited to pay and get the rest wrapped up to go while my wife took the kids to the van. As I was paying the waitress was nice enough to point out on the menu that was stapled to our doggy bag that "you could always call ahead to order and then pick it up." She was just trying to be helpful but it still sounded like a subtle please don't come back. I just about wet myself laughing at it, as did my wife when I told her about it in the van. We chuckled all the way home. Once we got there, the kids gave me the Homer Simpson pajama pants they'd gotten me. According to my wife they went out shopping for them when the questions started.

"Why are we getting daddy these?"

"Daddy likes pants with cartoon pictures on them."

"How about we get him some pants with my picture on them?"

"Well, they don't have pants with your picture on them."

"Why not?"

"Because not everyone knows you."

"Mom, everyone knows me."

Neither one of us is about to tell her she's not as famous as she thinks. Especially since they're both stars to us. Guess it was the sort of birthday you might read about in People, what with the celebrities and all. "Yes sweetie, everyone knows you."

My Kitchen Floor Is Clean

2008-09-24T11:09:00.003-04:00

For some reason I was feeling kind of ambitious yesterday so I scrubbed the kitchen floor. Maybe it wasn't ambition. I think I was just pissed at losing in fantasy football by one point, again. Two fumbles go my way and I'm 3-0 instead of 1-2. I'm going to start emailing the coaches to let them know what I need each player to do. "Ok, no pressure but I need Coles to score 4 touchdowns tomorrow. I know he's on the other team but would it kill you to just do me a little favour?"

Like I was saying, I scrubbed the floor yesterday. I think I scrubbed too hard and took all the colour off the linoleum. I'd have to check some photos from when we first moved in but I don't remember the floor ever being that strange white colour. I guess everyday traffic and a couple fires really pile up the dirt. I'm just happy the cleaning actually worked for me this time because it doesn't always. Turns out using the vacuum on the curtains is not good for the curtains, or the vacuum for that matter. Another helpful hint, which I can't stress enough, you can't use regular dish soap in a dishwasher. No matter how much you'd rather avoid going to the store to get the right kind of soap, it really just causes more problems than it solves. I found that out when I walked into a kitchen filled with soapy bubbles and a water covered floor. I thought that sort of thing only happened in silly movies but it turns out those movies are surprisingly accurate. It reminded me of the time a bubble bath got out of hand as a kid.

When I was like seven of eight we had a jacuzzi type tub with jets. It made bath time lots of fun especially when my parents would add some bubbles. So this one time I was playing in the tub along with my sister who's a couple years younger than me. The bubbles were going and it was great fun. The switch for the jets was on the wall by the door and my parents made sure to set it for a couple minutes. Just enough to make a descent pile of bubbles. Anyways, I got out of the tub and turned the dial to like twenty minutes. Now that I think about it, I'm wondering why were unsupervised at the time but that's a question for another time. As I'm sure you can imagine bubble bath plus twenty minutes of being stirred by jets equals a lot of bubbles. Actually, five or six minutes does the trick. That's about how long it took for my parents to realise the jets should have stopped already. They came in and had to wade through a giant wall of bubbles to try and find us. I don't remember them ever making that mistake again.

I can't talk about that tub though without mentioning when they installed it. It was a bit bigger than the tub that was originally in that bathroom. That meant my parents needed to take out the closet in the bathroom to accommodate their dream tub. They were also smart enough to know how to get that done for them. One day a friend of mine came over to play. My parents set us up with safety goggles, gloves, and some hammers. They told us to go ahead and knock that wall down. Do you have any idea how much fun that is for a seven year old? Hell, even at 31 I'd be downright giddy if I got to do something like that today. As I'm writing this, I'm looking around our house to figure out if we really need all these walls. I imagine when my wife reads this she's going to quickly hide anything in the house that could used for demolition purposes. Oh well, at least I've got the memories. The best part of it was when my friend's mom came to pick him up. We're both covered in dust with pieces of gyprock in our hair. Her face went white when he told her we'd knocked down a wall. Her panic turned to relief and I'm guessing a little bit of confusion when she found out we'd had permission to tear down the wall.

I find it kind of comforting to look back and realise my parents didn't always make the best decisions. Hopefully, I'll be able to remember some mistakes before I make the same ones myself. Not to say the wall thing was a mistake. I'd actually classify it as figgin' awesome. If the same situation does arise though I think I'll make sure to let the parents of the other kids involved aware of what's going on before they show up and think their child has just demolished a significant part of someone's house. Although freaking someone out like that does sound awfully tempting too. Guess we'll have to wait and see which path I choose on that one.

Just One Of Those Days

2008-09-22T14:08:00.004-04:00

As we're all aware the big downside with kids is they're always there. It doesn't matter if you didn't get enough sleep the night before or if you have a headache. Those two things may lead you to certain conclusions so I'll just deal with that right now. No, I was not up late drinking. Judging how today is going I can't guarantee I'll be able to say the same thing tomorrow morning but that's not important. Last night's lack of sleep was a combination of working until one and coming home to a youngster who threw up and then seemed to believe last night that "sleep is overrated". I kind of agree with that as I'm not a big fan of sleep, or maybe that's just the lie I've convinced myself of since the kids came along. It's hard to say anymore. Sleep does make it easier to deal with things though.

Like I said, the little one wasn't feeling well and decided to stay up nice and late last night. Not a problem because if she stays up late she'll just sleep in a bit later. Too bad her big sister didn't get the memo. She got up at 7:30 and then was nice enough to come wake us up. Thank goodness because I'd hate to miss making breakfast, I mean a snack, for them by sleeping. I'll give them credit, they weren't behaving extraordinarily dickish today. They were right around their normal levels. Some fighting, some complaints, some outrageously impossible demands. If anyone out there has a machine that makes tiny baby shoes increase in size so they fit a three year old please let me know because I'd be very interested. My tired, cranky state just amplified it all.

It was the sort of mood where you just need some sort of outlet to let all the frustration out on. Personally, I've been wishing for a burglar to break into the house so I could beat the crap out him. Not anyone dangerous, just someone with poor coordination, asthma, and very poor vision who loses his glasses early on in the encounter. A person to show up and create a situation where force is seen as a totally reasonable response but who can't really do any harm to me or the kids. The emotional release of pounding on a punching bag and the ego boost of having protected your family. Is that too much to ask? To date nobody has fallen for the Lenscrafters/Asthma Clinic sign I put out on the front lawn. Maybe if I used a different font.

I find the next best thing to that probably unrealistic scenario is telemarketers. Telling off a complete stranger over the phone can be very cathartic. I'm actually pretty torn on the idea of signing up for that new "no call list" that's being instituted. On the one hand, it's a pain getting all those pointless calls. On the other hand, letting them go through their whole monologue before asking them "hey, is my dial tone working?" and then hanging up on them always brightens up my day. That's why I think there should be a number you can call. You call, the person answers and then goes on about how great their long distance service/credit card/home meat delivery/direct purchasing wholesale group is. Then they sit and listen as you take out all your frustrations by cursing at them. It'd be like a parental helpline. Until then I'll just have to dream and get excited every time the phone rings on a frustrating day.

"Sure, I've got a couple minutes to talk to you about lawn care but first do you have a couple minutes for me to curse at you like Richard Pryor with tourrettes?"

While I Was Sleeping

2008-09-19T14:37:00.002-04:00

You ever read an article about parenting and feel good about yourself because the advice they give is something you've already come up with on your own? "Put jackets on the kids when it's cold? Heck, I've been doing that for ages. I must be an awesome parent." The other day I read an article about getting kids to try new foods. I meant to click on the one giving me the latest fantasy football advice but I'd already read too much by the time I realised my mistake. Imagine my frustration when I couldn't find a running back on any team named Avocado. Anyways, one of the points of the article was that kids are more open to trying foods when they participate in the cooking of that food. All this time I thought I was being lazy but it turns out it was good parenting.

"Ok, you guys devil these eggs and I'll be back after this inning, I mean in a moment."

The food should be almost edible once they learn to read a recipe. I wonder if they touched on that issue later in the article. Maybe I should have read the whole thing. Once it had me feeling like a good parent though I didn't see any reason to read further. Parenting is like gambling; quit while you're ahead.

No matter how great I may think I am at this parenting game, I'm still not at the point where I can do it in my sleep. I often do it when extremely tired (you ever fall asleep at a red light?) but when I go to sleep my A game goes out the window. I'm told last night was a prime example. The little one was sleeping in the room she's sharing with her sister. That's going pretty well, 2:45 is the latest she's made it so far before ending up in our bed. So she's sleeping and then around 2 wakes up crying. I go get her and bring her to our bed so I can change her diaper and then she can cuddle her mom while I make a bottle for her. Everything went well and I moved her back to her little bed. Apparently, my wife didn't realise I'd moved our youngster. She woke up a little while later and questioned me when she couldn't find the baby.

This is the part I have no memory of. According to her account I told her I'd put the baby on the floor. She was a little skeptical but apparently I was adamant that our youngest child was resting safely on the floor. According to her there was some pointing and a great deal of certainty on my part. I wasn't convincing enough as she went to the kids' room and found them both sleeping in their beds. I wish I could say that was the end of it but I can't. Apparently, again I have no memory of it, my wife got up later in the night to go into the bathroom and vomit, a little HG alone time. At the same time our oldest woke up and was calling for something. On her way into the bathroom my wife asked me to go deal with the situation. My response was a confident "OK". Five minutes later she came out of the bathroom to find our little girl still calling for assistance and me sleeping in the exact same spot I'd been before her morning puking. From what I've been told it was frustrating.

This next one is my favourite because I almost got i right. Our youngest was still just a baby and slept in a crib that was in our room. In the middle of the night she woke up crying, as per usual. My wife asked me to hand her the baby as she grabbed the already prepared bottle. I didn't roll over and go back to sleep. I didn't tell her something crazy like she already had the baby or "Go back to sleep, we don't have a baby". No, I sprung into action. I rose from my slumber, reached down to the foot of the bed, grabbed the baby and handed her to my wife. At least I thought that's what I was doing. In reality the crib wasn't at the foot of the bed and what I'd done was handed her the dog. I was certain I was handing her the baby though. Before you judge, have you ever tried to tell the difference between my kids and my dog in the middle of the night? Yeah, I didn't think so. One more reason I hope my kids never ever read most of this crap.

So apparently being conscious is an important factor when it comes to parenting. At least in my case. At least there's hope that will change over time and I can take solace in the knowledge that it doesn't seem to diminish my skills as a pet owner.

Sharing A Room

2008-09-17T10:03:00.004-04:00

There used to be a time we didn't have to share our room with any children. I don't remember it myself but I've been told it existed. It's a lot like the way I view Intelligent Design. Lots of people go around telling you it's the way it was but I just think it's a bunch of crap. Seriously, if I was "intelligently designed" then why is my junk in the same area as the zipper on my pants? That just seems unnecessarily dangerous. That's a discussion for another time though.

Getting back on point, last night was the first time since forever that we went to bed without a youngster somewhere in our room. The oldest has been in her new room all week. There's still a couple minor cosmetic things to be done in there but for our purposes it's done. We moved her stuff in over the weekend and she loves it. We can't threaten to send her to her room anymore because she loves it so much but that's no big deal. I can always come up with more threats. "Ok, if you don't want to pick up your toys that's your choice. I feel obligated to tell you though that messes attract monsters. I'm getting out of here before they show up so just scream if you need anything." Do they send you a letter telling you you're father of the year or do they show up at your door like Publisher's Clearinghouse?

Anyways, I decided to move the other little bed into the room yesterday so they could try and sleep in the same room together. I purposely chose the night my wife was out to avoid any discussion. The last thing I need when I'm about to do something potentially stupid is someone pointing out why it's stupid. Also, it if worked and she came home to find our bedroom kid-free then I just look like a badass parent. So I got the bed in and everything set up. They were pretty excited about the idea of sharing a room. I took that as a bad sign and figured they'd just keep each other up all night. That's what happened for a little while. The little one went from her bed to her sister's bed and then back several times. They lie down ever so cutely and then pop up and want to play. After about twenty minutes of that I decided to try a different attack.

I love that as kids get older you can actually start to reason with them. That made it so nice when I decided to tell the older one that if she was quiet and let me get her sister to sleep I'd bring her back to the little bed. I ended up having to agree to lie down with the big one too. So I took the little one to my room for the usual bedtime routine. That consists of laying down with her as she drinks her bottle. Once she decides she's had enough she'll hand over her bottle, give a good night kiss, then roll over and fall asleep. "Do you have to rub it in my face that you make the decisions around here?" She got to sleep and I got her into the other room. Twenty minutes of laying down with the big one and I was able to get out.

FREEDOM!!! Having our nice big bed to ourselves. Not having to worry about waking up a youngster. It's the stuff dreams are made of. It only lasted half the night but that's longer than we thought it would. Hopefully, we can build on that foundation and actually get some entire restful kidless nights. Before the next one shows up that is. Just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in.

Anything For A Laugh

2008-09-12T23:44:00.004-04:00

There's nothing better than hearing your kids laugh. It's quite simply the personification of joy. It's fun to hear anyone laugh but I'll do just about anything I can to get my kids to laugh. Unfortunately, they don't seem to find this blog all that funny. Could be the fact they're illiterate (dark family secret so don't go blabbing about it). They're just not real big on jokes yet. Actually, the older one's getting there. I'd forgotten how funny "why did the chicken cross the road" actually is. Anyways, that pretty much just leaves physical humour for me to use. The big problem with physical comedy is that people don't believe you when you actually get hurt. Kind of frustrating to be rolling around on the floor in pain while everyone in the room is just laughing at you. I'm getting ahead of myself though.

It's not hard for me to trace back where my ideas of what entertains kids comes from. My Dad stopped at nothing to entertain us kids. If he thought he could get a chuckle then he'd do it. I vividly remember we were playing tag in the house one evening when I was about eight or nine. Nothing like having the kids run around the house for an hour to get them good and ready for bedtime. So I came running around the corner and down the hallway. Dad was hiding in my room, which had a door that faced the top of the staircase leading to the ground floor. I run past and he jumped out of the room to try and "catch" me. Of course, he missed and dove headfirst down the stairs. My eyes went wide as I laughed at what I thought was the coolest thing ever. My mom's eyes went wide as she read my mind and immediately said, "Don't even think about it". For some reason she figured I would wind up more injured than Dad who had a bit of a carpet burn on his forearms from stopping himself on the stairs. Guess we'll never know.

As far as injuries go, the carpet burn was pretty minor. The most serious one he got while playing with us was probably the time he tore the cartilage in his knee. He turned when one of us called to him but his leg didn't cooperate. My sister and I found it pretty funny at the time. The knee surgery and time spent in the hospital, not quite as much. "Ok, when you fell down it was funny but I just don't get this joke. You can get out of that hospital bed because I don't think I'm going to laugh." In addition to the torn cartilage I think his entertainment injury list includes cuts and bruises, some cracked ribs, chipped teeth, numerous bloody noses, and of course numerous shots to the groin. I'm sure he could give a more complete list but that's the ones I remember. Having seen all that and witnessing him hurl himself down a flight of stairs for our amusement, what kind of parent would I be if I didn't?

That brings me to a couple days ago. The girls decided to go downstairs and bring along a blanket. I was trying to convince them to stay upstairs and jokingly grabbed onto the blanket. The inevitable happened and that led to them standing on the landing of the staircase competing against me in a tug of war. Of course they won and I was "pulled" down half a dozen stairs or so to where they were. They laughed so hard. They laughed just as hard every time I did it. For fifteen minutes they pulled me down the stairs and laughed as I crashed in front of them. I imagine when my wife reads this she's going to want to have a little talk with me.

To speed things up I'll just give my rebuttal here. "I know we keep telling them not to play on the stairs because it's dangerous but in my defense it was very, very funny." Check and mate.

The stair game was just one in a long line of times I've fallen down or pretended to hurt myself in order to make them laugh. That backfired today though. The little one was walking around in the kitchen with a ceramic onion soup bowl. It had been on the floor with water in it for the dog because his normal dish was in the dishwasher. Of course, she dumped the water on the floor so I cleaned it up with a towel. That's when she dropped the bowl. She dropped it right on my pinkie toe, pointy little handle first. I immediately drop to the ground. As my now purple toe throbs and swells the kids are beside themselves laughing. They're on the verge of wetting themselves and my wife is laughing just as hard as they are. I expect it from the kids but her too? Eventually, she regained her composure and tried to tell them I was actually hurt. And what does the older one say?

"If he moved he wouldn't have gotten hurt." Traitor.

So now I'm the Dad who cried wolf. I can't get hurt or fall down without everyone immediately thinking it's a joke. Can't say I'm that bothered by it though. It's always great to hear them laugh. I figure we're all going to have our bodies break down as we get older so an injury here and there in exchange for some laughter is worth it. And hopefully when they're older they'll remember me being able to take a fall or dive down some stairs. Instead of as the fat bald middle aged guy who embarrasses them every time I pick them up from high school in my slippers and a robe full of holes. Yeah, their teen years will be very special.

Why Didn't We Think Of That Sooner?

2008-09-10T23:22:00.003-04:00

Have you ever done something that worked out great and then wondered why the hell didn't we do it like that before? No, I'm not talking about that you sick bastards. Honestly, what's wrong with you? I ask a simple question and your mind goes straight to the gutter. Anyways, what was I saying? Oh yeah, here's a tip that might spice up your sex life. Just kidding.

So from time to time mealtime can prove challenging. When I say from time to time I mean the times we eat. My kids aren't really picky eaters, as I've said. The problem comes from the older one deciding she'd rather play than eat. An issue further complicated by the fact the little one takes her cues from her big sister. It leads to the negotiating that parents have had to resort to throughout the ages. "Eat four more bites and then you can play. Ok, that doesn't count as a bite. I'm talking about four normal bites. Fine, eat those potatoes and then you can play." Can't help but think that's the one upside of famine. Can't imagine parents have to fight that battle when starvation is a major issue. Guess I'm just the sort of person who sees the silver lining in every cloud.

Anyways, we were having supper tonight. The kids and I baked a cake today so that was sitting on the counter. A big chocolate bribe I gladly used as incentive to get the older one to eat her supper. That worked for a few bites and then it became negotiation time. She told us that she wanted to save room for cake. I was figuring out in my head how much chicken and potato she'd have to eat before I felt like I'd done some decent parenting. I was about to reach for the Canada food guide when my wife had a stroke of genius. "You know the more supper you eat, the more dessert you can have." Brilliant. Much better than when I told her it didn't matter how much supper she ate because the supper section of her stomach was separate from the dessert section.

"No, your supper doesn't go into that part of your stomach. That part is just for dessert. What do you mean you don't believe me? You're three, you're supposed to take my words of wisdom at face value. Fine, I'll go on wikipedia right now and prove it to you."

It's really not fun having a toddler call you on your BS. Thanks to my wife's quick thinking I didn't have to go through that, again. Our little girl went to town on her supper and then made short work of her cake before going off to play. That left the two of us there wondering why it took us so long to think of that. I assume it's the way inventors feel when they finally get it right. "Platinum filament, what the hell was I thinking? What a dumbass I was." It just goes to show that a little luck and improvisation are the cornerstones of adequate parenting. The problem I see arising later is she's going to clue into our little trick. I just wonder how long before she's going to want us to quantify the correlation between how much supper she eats and her dessert size. I figure I'll just stick an old tire gauge against her stomach to measure it's fullness and then consult a periodic table to come up with the answer. I figure if it looks scientific enough she'll believe me. Either that or I'll just pick up the phone and call the "dessert fairy".

I Fixed The Keyboard

2008-09-08T11:00:00.003-04:00

That's right, I fixed the keyboard. I poked around a bit in the back and noticed that the flux capacitor was impinging on the labrum. A little counter clockwise rotation of the tubular joint arm and it was good as new. Fine, what really happened was the power went out for like three seconds and when it came back on everything was working fine. I have no idea what caused it or how that brief power outage fixed it. Personally, I think Scientology was the cause of it all. Friggin' Xenu using thetans to keep me from reaching the bridge to total freedom. All that crap I was saying doesn't sound so stupid anymore eh?

Anyways, let's see what's happened in the past week. That hurricane came and went. My parents evacuated, to a bed and breakfast in Mississippi. Who evacuates to a bed and breakfast? Apparently, they believe you can't spell evacuation without vacation. Wonder if that would work for us. A little natural disaster in exchange for a night away sounds like a fair deal to me. I say one night because that's how long their evacucation lasted. They went home the next day to find their neighbourhood pretty much undamaged. So that was one crisis averted.

The other big cloud hanging over our heads last week was the beginning of the school year. My wife couldn't come up with any way of avoiding going back to work so she had to just bite the bullet. I'd like to say she got a nice restful night's sleep the night before but I can't. In the middle of the night our youngest fell out of our bed. The laundry left on the floor provided a safe landing area so she wasn't hurt, just startled. My wife said she woke up to find the little one crying and just sort of walking in circles. I was in the basement watching TV at the time and heard the commotion on the baby monitor. I started tearassing (screw you spell check; if I say it's a word then it's a word) up the stairs. I got the top of the stairs when I misstepped. My foot slipped off the stair and onto the one below causing me to go over on my ankle a bit. So there's the baby walking in circles as she comes to grips with her confusion about why she's suddenly on the floor, my wife sitting up in bed trying to figure out why she's being denied the sleep she so desperately needs, and me on the floor trying to determine if I've actually hurt myself or not. Then just to add to the fun, that's when the oldest starts calling out from her room that she needs us. If I'd been in my wife's shoes I think that's when I would have called in sick to work. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure this isn't a good sign so I'm not coming in today. I haven't checked the union contract but I'm pretty sure we're granted a couple bad omen days each year."

She didn't stay home though. She went to work. Sick, tired, and tethered to a pump full of meds but she made it through the week. A four day week but it still counts. It's got to be wearing her out but she's holding up pretty well. Or she's hiding it well. If it was me I'd be super tired, pissed off all the time, and constantly on the verge of a profanity infused blow up that would make a bout of tourrette's look like a church sermon. But that's me. She hasn't gone that route yet but who knows what the future holds. Guess we'll just have to wait and see.

Experiencing Technical Difficulties

2008-09-06T21:36:00.002-04:00

I noticed I haven't put anything up here in about a week. Just wanted to let you know it's not because I'm lazy. Ok, it's not just because I'm lazy. The big obstacle right now is that our keyboard isn't working. Tried plugging in multiple keyboards into any port they'll fit into and nothing. So if you've got any ideas feel free to send them my way. The only way I'm able to get this up is to do it at work. If this stupid spacebar doesn't keep sticking then this keyboard is going to be broken too. Good thing nobody else is around or they'd easily realise I'm not doing anything work related. That's just between us so be cool about it ok?

I have to give credit to my wife though. She was smart enough to email herself a bunch of useful words from work. Mostly usernames and passwords for stuff like the web banking and what not. Heaven forbid we should have to go to an actual bank like in the olden days. I told her that writing on the screen with a marker would work just fine. I was pretty sure I saw something about that on one of those Tech TV shows one time. She doubted me. Started using made up words like touchscreen and stylus, whatever the hell that means. So for now I'll do it her way. Keep checking from time to time and hopefully we'll get this fixed sooner rather than later.

PICC Line, IV, And Hurricane. Oh My

2008-08-30T23:58:00.002-04:00

Three days. Three days after getting the PICC line put in and it's not working. Not working in the sense that it's blocked so nothing can go in. To say it was frustrating and my wife wasn't in the mood for jokes is putting it mild. "Don't fiddle with it, you don't want to void the warranty." Went over about as well as telling her to relax. For some reason the word relax is like the attack command for her. Anyways, this little setback, coupled with the rather incompetent home care she got from the nurse they sent over the other day hasn't helped matters.

After a day of phone calls to try and get her supplies ordered (see above comment about incompetence) she got to make more calls today about getting this fixed. Any guesses how easy that is on the last long weekend of the summer? Yep, not very easy at all. We got someone in to check it out in the afternoon though. After trying a couple things with no success, it was time for an IV. So now she's got the PICC in her right arm and an IV in her left. If anyone asks I just tell them one is for hot and the other for cold. "And that's just the tubes you can see." The kids don't seem to put off by it all which is nice and the IV is working for the time being. She's dealing with the stress of it all as best she can but it piles up and there's only so much you can take. Add to everything her big fear lurking around the corner, going back to work next week. No matter what you do it's coming and there's no telling how bad it will be until you're into the thick of it.

That's a convenient segway into hurricane Gustav which is taking aim at the Gulf Coast. My parents spent the day boarding up their windows which proved difficult in the 95 degree weather. They're about two miles outside the mandatory evacuation area so their plan is to head out Sunday once they have a better idea which way the storm is heading. And just after Dad got a chance to try and sneak up on the first alligator that crawled up in the backyard last week. Isn't that always the way though? You finally get gators showing up for you to try catching and then you have to evacuate because of a hurricane. If I had a nickel for every time. I guess it's a good thing they have to leave for a while otherwise in the near future I'm sure I'd be writing about Dad getting bitten by a gator. Lord knows he'd get no sympathy from Mom if he did too.

I remember when I was a kid and we were living in BC. We went out in the woods to cut firewood. It was me, my sister, Mom, Dad, Dad's brother and his wife. I was like five or six. My sister and I were playing in the truck while they cut the logs. Apparently, while he's cutting a log Dad's chainsaw jumped and hit him right in the boot. Just past the steel toe part. He took the boot off expecting to see a bloody stump or something. The boot comes off and it looks ok so he's thinking maybe he got lucky. Once the sock came off though, he saw his foot was cut. My Uncle, who had studied to be a nurse at one point, came over, took one look at it and passed out. My Aunt sprang into action and said that she'd take him to the hospital. She jumped in her car and took off leaving Dad behind still bleeding and I'm sure more than a little confused. So mom walks over, takes one look at it and sympathetically says "What did you do now you idiot?" A fair question. Needless to say, as a nurse she doesn't impress easily when it comes to sickness or injuries. She wrapped up his foot with the sock and took him to the hospital where they patched him up. No permanent injury and a good story, sounds like a nice day to me.

Anyways, I seem to have done some topic hopping on this one. I guess my point is that between blocked PICC lines, peripheral IV's, and oncoming hurricanes I'm pretty much going to have to break a bone or something if I expect to get any attention the next few days. And not just a little bone either. It's going to have to be a big important one since people don't impress easily. Oh well, guess I can always count on attention from the kids. Considering how much they like to jump on me when I'm not looking, I might get some attention/sympathy after all.

So I Married A Cyborg

2008-08-28T21:20:00.005-04:00

Ok, that title was a cheap shot but I couldn't resist. You see, yesterday my wife got her PICC line. For anyone who isn't aware, it's a catheter that's inserted into her upper arm. Then they slide it into a vein until the tip is sitting in a large vein just above the heart. Add a pump and some IV bags with saline and meds and you're good to go. Yeah, the idea of it creeps me out at first too. Personally, if a doctor told me that's what they were going to do my first reaction would be "You're going to put what where?" Of course, if my wife was the sort of person who asked that question more often, we wouldn't be in this situation in the first place.

So now her constant nausea and fatigue will be accompanied by the whirring of the pump she has attached to her all the time. Ideally, it'll lessen her nausea and keep her hydrated but we'll see. It worked pretty well on the last pregnancy but with each youngster running around the degree of difficulty seems to increase exponentially. It would be nice if it makes her into some sort of Robocop like super mom who can chase down the kids with ease. Realistically, I think she'll be more like Arnold at the end of the first Terminator. She keeps on going because her mission is the core of her being. She's been programmed to look after these kids and nothing will stop her from succeeding but as she drags what's left of herself across the factory floor we can see that she just doesn't have it in her anymore. The only question is will the kids take pity on her or push that button and crush her with that big old machine until the red light in her eye fades out?

Ok, so maybe I watch too many movies. The point is the PICC line is not a miracle cure. I like to think so because of how well she did on the last pregnancy with it as to opposed on the first one when she didn't have it. That's just wishful thinking though. It should hopefully help her get to a level where she can function but that's about it. Not to downplay that though. Her being able to participate in regular activities with me and the kids and not be totally wiped out afterwards would be extraordinary. Not sure how realistic that is since school starts up again next week and she'll be going back to work. As long as she's getting her fluids and not puking an insane number of times a day I'd call it a win though.

Honestly, I think it's awfully impressive what she puts herself through in order to have kids. No, I'm not talking about sleeping with me you jackass. Friggin' smartasses. It's impressive that she goes through being so sick for so long just to being a child into the world. I'm not sure I'd be able to do it. I know I wouldn't go through it three times. But she's done it knowing the sort of sickness she'd be dealing with. At least with the second two. The first time was just a fun surprise. So I'd say she is more ultra badass humanity saving cyborg than beaten down robot killing machine. Now if I can just find the right mother's day card to express that sentiment.

Compiling Evidence

2008-08-26T20:36:00.002-04:00

We need to watch what we say around the kids, in particular the oldest. And I'm not talking about cursing. At this point, if she learns any new swear words she'll have to teach them to me because I think she's overheard me use just about everything in my expletive arsenal. She hasn't repeated much of them but I'm sure she's stored them all away for a special occasion. "That was a lovely baptism father. Sorry about the older one shouting out like that. We think she may have tourettes." No, I'm talking about how we need to be careful what we say around her because she's starting to use it against us.

A prime example would be the other day in the van. My wife was driving along with her mom in the passenger seat. They were going shopping and then she was coming over to the house to help out since I was working. During their trip, a series of questions came from the backseat.

"Mom, can you make Cameron's bottles?"

"Yes, I can do that."

"Can you change Cameron's diapers?"

"Yes."

"Can you make Cameron go to sleep?"

"Yes, I help Cameron fall asleep at bedtime."

Later, they got home and it soon became time for bed. We usually tell the oldest to lie down in her bed while we get her sister to sleep and then we'll come lie with her. Following the playbook, Nanny told her she was going to help mom get Cameron to sleep and then she'd come see her.

"Mom, doesn't need help. She knows how to do everything for Cameron."

Well played you little bastard. She went through all that trouble of getting the answers she needed hours before she needed the information. The questions just seemed cute and funny but in reality she was just compiling evidence for her case. I told me wife not to watch Law and Order or CSI when the baby was around. Obviously, she was paying more attention than it appeared. Makes me wonder how long before she starts using fingerprint analysis or DNA evidence to prove I ate the last cookie. By that point her little sister will be able to join in and they'll be pulling the whole good cop bad cop routine. "Look, just tell me what I want to hear. If you just cooperate it'll be a lot easier for you. My partner's nuts. The truth is going to come out sooner or later and I really don't think you want her to be the one to get it from you."

So now we have to pay attention to what she's saying and what we say to her. Any little thing can come back to bite us in the ass. The worst part is there's no telling what, when or how. I feel like she should start every conversation by reading us our rights. "Daddy, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you. Now, do you think the doll in this picture would look good in my room?"

A Day At The Fair

2008-08-23T21:59:00.004-04:00

So we went to the Ex the other day. It's essentially a state fair, some livestock exhibits surrounded by a big carnival. As I've said before, I don't like carnivals. I don't like to go on rides. I don't enjoy big crowds of people. I'm not a fan of the games. The one thing I do enjoy is the food but that's overpriced which sucks. So all in all, I'm not the person you want to go with to one of these things. However, my wife and kids do enjoy that stuff so I got to try and pretend.

Truthfully, I'd say I had an ok time this year. It wasn't very crowded the day we went so that certainly helped. Seeing the family having a good time makes it fun too. All the way there we got to hear from our oldest how she was going to be brave and go on the merry go round. She does not enjoy rides at all (no idea where she gets that from). Her determination to be brave and go on a ride was strong all the way to the entrance. We got her to the little kiddie car ride that goes around in circles and she actually sat in it before the tears started. I had gotten to the other side of the guard rail before it happened, which surprised me. So we got her out and watched as her little sister went on the ride. She's totally opposite from her sister when it comes to rides. She was all smiles and laughs when it started. After that wore off she did the final few laps with a smug self assured grin on her face as she focused on steering the car. She didn't cry until the ride ended and we had to pry her off of it. That little taste only made her hungry for more and she kept pointing to all the rides asking to go on them. Not just kiddie rides either. If she'd had her way she would have gone on the grown up roller coaster and that one that raises everyone straight up in the air and then plummets quickly. Since pregnant women aren't allowed to go on rides, that left me to go on some with her.

We went on some spinning strawberry thing that she didn't enjoy as much as the cars. For some reason being in an enclosed metal berry away from her mom that spun in circles didn't appeal to her. After that failure, I gave in to her demands to go on the kiddie roller coaster. Unfortunately, when we got to the entrance we found out she wasn't old enough to ride it. "Darn it. Just four little months standing preventing me from the chance to look like a big wuss on an infants roller coaster? Damn you carnival safety regulations." That left the merry go round, which I couldn't go on because of an unfortunate incident a couple years ago.

When our oldest was an infant we went to the Ex. Some parent of hers, not naming names but I think we all know I'm mothering about, thought she would enjoy going on rides. I played along and took her on the merry go round. I sat her on the horse and held onto her as it started. Immediately, she panicked and tried to get off. That left me trying to keep her from falling while holding on as we spun in circles. In order to do all that I had to go up and down as the horse did or risk dropping my infant. My sympathetic wife and sister who were watching all this just about wet themselves as they watched me, as the put it, "hump the horse on the merry go round". Needless to say, I didn't want to jog the memory of any carnie who may witnessed that so I've steered clear of that ride since.

As I said earlier though, the family enjoys carnivals so I go. The little one likes the rides. The big one like the games. And everyone likes the animals. Good thing because none of those appeal to me. Actually, that's not true. The one exception to the rule is skiball. That is far and away the best game in the history of midways. You just have to admire the kind of mind that sits and thinks "How can I combine bowling and basketball?" Friggin' genius. However, now that I think about it why stop there? Throw other sports into the mix. Put a guy at the end of the lane with a bat. Make it a little more interesting by throwing in some tackling or checking. Or if you really want to increase the degree of difficulty, light the ball on fire. I'm sure I've got some kinks to iron out but I think I've got the foundation for a fantastic sport. I hear the Olympics is looking at getting rid of taekwondo so they'll have an opening. I should really polish this little brain nugget of mine and who knows what could happen. Fingers crossed for 2012.

I Need To "Pimp My Ride"

2008-08-19T22:19:00.003-04:00

So I'm thinking about getting some soundproof glass installed in our new van. I'm picturing the sort of partition limos have so the drivers don't have to listen to a bunch of drunk teens on prom night. The one thing we didn't consider before buying it is that our car left an empty seat in between the girls. Now that they're side by side just about every trip, no matter how short, seems to involve some fighting and whining of some sort. Either someone isn't sharing their toys, or someone wants their sister's sippy cup, or my personal favourite "She's looking at me". Not sure what she expects me to do about that one. I mean does she actually expect me to pull over and blindfold her sister.

"There, keep that on and stop disturbing your sister with your troubling attention. And don't start smelling her either because I've got a couple tiny corks in the glove box for just such an occasion."

I suppose we could always set them up in the rear seats instead of the middle. That would give them back that buffer zone and they're cries would have further to travel to reach us up front. The downside is it'd be a huge pain in the ass to get them in and out of their seats plus I like having the extra storage space with that backseat flipped up. So I'm left with the soundproof glass option. Actually, I had another idea but I'm not sure how practical it is. If I travel at the speed of sound, would the kids whining and crying be able to keep up with us?

"Yes officer, I know I was speeding. I was just trying to test out a theory I have."

I do think having a couple kids freaking out in the backseat should be an acceptable reason for speeding. You should be able to blaze down the highway at top speed with a baby on board sticker in the back window without anyone batting an eye. It's the least they can do since the province has completely ignored my letters asking to have a separate "My kids are freaking out" lane added to the roads. A big yellow diamond with a pissed off youngster in it right in the middle of the lane. Odds are that would backfire and just create a giant convoy of minivans as far as the eye can see. Nothing but the sound of kids music and crying coming from every vehicle as the parents inside give the finger to all the childless people in the other lanes. Perhaps they're right to ignore my requests.

I guess I'll have to head back to the drawing board on some of these ideas. I think they have some potential once I iron out all the kinks. For the time being, I'll have to use the age old parental fallback of threatening to turn the car around. I'm not sure how effective that one will be either though. At least until I can pull off some sort of movie style handbrake 180. So it's either stunt driving school for me or I'll have to do some actual parenting.

Back To Work

2008-08-17T23:30:00.004-04:00

I love not having to go to work. It doesn't matter that we didn't travel on this vacation; it was just nice to not have to work. We were able to get a lot of the stuff done I'd wanted to (the bedroom is painted except for the trim). Unfortunately, that little dreamland known as vacation came to an end today. I had to go back to work today because, for some strange reason, I'm required to show up in order to get paid. "You sure that's what we agreed to when you hired me? I'm pretty sure I remember it differently."

It's not that my job is horrible. It's not very strenuous or challenging. I can't even say the people I work with are bastards, mostly because I don't want to take a chance on one of them reading this. Going to work just is not quite as much fun as staying home. I don't like going back after a long weekend, let alone after two weeks off. No matter how hard I tried though it was inevitable. If you believe Freud's view that there are no accidents then on Saturday I stubbed my pinkie toe in an attempt to avoid having to go back. Personally, I don't much attention to a lot of what he said. All I know is I tried to hop over the baby gate instead of taking the time to open it. I cleared it easily but slammed my toe into the handrail that sticks out from the wall. I contend that's proof positive that we don't need either a handrail or baby gate downstairs. I don't recall either preventing more injuries than they've caused. My wife just thinks that we should just keep them and I should just do less stupid jumping on the stairs. Either way my pinkie toe and surrounding foot area being swollen and purple wasn't enough of an injury to warrant an extended vacation.

It's a shame though since our oldest had some big plans. We went to a local zoo the other day. It's not a big one but has enough animals to keep the kids happy. They had some lions, some tigers, and a couple bears. So did you all say "Oh my" after the lions, tigers, and bears line? Good times. Anyways, they had animals like that and several different kinds of monkeys. The monkeys actually put on a good show. Lots of swinging and jumping as well as some running around. Monkeys running looks like some oddly proportioned little hairy fella running around which in and of itself would make a pretty good zoo exhibit, in my opinion. There were no big animals like giraffes or elephants though. A point my daughter would later bring up.

That night we put them to bed and she wanted me to lie down with her for a bit. Since I'm a big pushover I did. We were chatting about the fun we'd had that day. I was asking her what she thought about the zoo and which animals she liked the most. That's when she told me that her favourite animal was a giraffe. "I like giraffes but there weren't any giraffes there. Tomorrow we got to the giraffe zoo?" She has three terms for referencing time, today, yesterday, and tomorrow. Today is obvious. Yesterday is anything that's happened in the past and tomorrow is anything in the future. We just have to be careful with the tomorrow thing because she'll often play the "you said we'd do that tomorrow" card the day after we agree to something.

So she's telling me about how we're going to go to the "giraffe zoo". "We go to the giraffe zoo tomorrow. They have big giraffes with long necks and baby giraffes with little bit short necks. And there'll be elephants. And the baby elephant will lick me."

"What?"

"The baby elephant. The baby elephant is going to come over and lick me like this." And then she licked my arm to demonstrate.

And that's why I have to keep going to work. We're going to have to set aside some money for a trip to the giraffe zoo at some point. On top of that I'm going to need a few extra bucks to bribe a zookeeper into bringing over a baby elephant to lick the girls. Good thing they're worth it.

Kids Say The Darnedest Things

2008-08-12T23:54:00.003-04:00

So we had our second doctor's appointment today. I got to keep the kids occupied while the ultrasound was going on. Thankfully, it didn't take long because there wasn't a lot of things around to keep them occupied. "Let's go look at the flowers outside. Ok, now let's go look at those flowers. Let's see if mom's done." All the vomiting, nausea and general sickness made us pretty much forget about the whole heart rate issue from last time. Happy to say everything was good this time. Heart rate was good and the other measurements were normal. Yay for us. Now we just have to deal with this whole 24/7 nauseous puking thing. No big deal but then again, I'm not the one who's sick.

Since there was some concern on the last visit, we held off telling our oldest about her future sibling. Now that our worries were lessened today we told her. Funny part is on the ride over, she asked from the backseat, in a super quiet voice, "Can we have another baby?" I guess we haven't kept it as secret from her as we'd thought. Or perhaps it was just really weird timing. Either way it was just another in a string of cute things she's been throwing at us lately.

For instance, there was bedtime last week. Some nights she gets out of her bed a lot before finally going to sleep. I'll hear a noise from the hallway and find her laying on the floor covered in her blanket. Of course we all know that children become invisible when covered like that. So time after time, I'll pick her up, march her back into her room, and tuck her back in. After repeating that process a few times my patience starts to wear thin. So I heard her on the monitor and went up to check. She's in the hallway as usual and I'm not impressed. "What are you doing out of bed now?!"

"Daddy, I just love you so much I was trying to find you."

"Damnit. Give me a second. I've got to sit down to recover from that cuteness."

Another night, I find he in the hallway at about 3 in the morning. This time she's asleep outside our doorway. "Why are you sleeping out here?"

"I, I don't know what's going on with me today."

"Damn, now your sister's up because I laughed too loud."

Then this morning I decide to take the girls to the park. I'm loading them into the stroller when the mail lady pulls up in front of the house. By mail lady I mean letter carrier, not some sort of transgendered person. Just wanted to make sure there was no confusion. Anyways, she walks on over and hands me a package. I see the return address is from my parents to I assume it's clothes for the girls. We took it inside so they could open it with their mom. Turns out the clothes inside were for their mom. That left the oldest pathetically asking "There's nothing in there for me?"

"I'm sure the next package will have something for you." That seemed to make her happy and we went back to the stroller. I get them mostly buckled in when the mail lady pulls up again. She hands me another package that she'd forgotten to give me the last time. It's addressed to my wife and I don't recognise the return address. "Are you friggin' kidding me? Three minutes after what I told her and I get screwed like this?" I've never flipped off a postal worker before but I was damn close today. It turns out the package, which I tossed into the car until after we got back from the park, was a very nice blanket one of my wife's friends had made for her. If you ask my oldest though it's a blanket that grandma sent her. She actually called her and said thank you. She took it with her to the doctor's office. She's held onto it all evening and is using it in bed right now.

When I tucked her in I told her how much I like the blanket. How soft and warm it looked. How nice it would be to sleep with it on. "I sure wish I had a nice blanket like that."

"Well, grandma didn't have enough blankets for you. She only have enough blankets for me."

"Oh man, I gotta lie down. You're wearing me out with the stuff you come up with. I'll enjoy it while I can though because I'm sure by the time you're a teenager the stuff you say will wear me out, just in a totally different way."

Paint By Numbers

2008-08-08T21:22:00.002-04:00

A combination of grace and endurance, military precision and athletic excellence. The pinnacle of artistic achievement. No, I'm not talking about today's opening ceremonies of the Olympics, which were awesome. I'm talking about painting the spare room so our oldest daughter can move into it. Since we're unable to really go anywhere during my two week vacation that started last Sunday, we're getting some stuff down around here. Painting her room is the project I started today.

The folks who lived here before us painted Batman and Spiderman on the wall of that room since they had a little boy. We always thought it was pretty cool so we just left it. Now that we want to move her in there (the plan is for both of them to be in there when the baby comes) Batman would probably be a bit scary for her. Little three year old girl wakes up in the middle of the night and sees some pissed off dude in a black cape on her wall, the only question is whether I'd be woken up by her scream or by her diving headlong into our bed. I'm betting I'd be stirred awake by the scream and then jolted awake by her head slamming into my face, stomach, or groin. That's why we've decided to go with a princess theme. Some purple and pink on the walls to go along with some decals. It should be good. It reminds me of when I painted her nursery though.

I painted it while my wife was still pregnant with her. Remembering a time when we didn't have kids, hard to believe. Anyways, I decided to paint it secretly as her Christmas present. Pause while you go ah. I was working an overnight shift of 11 pm to 7 am back then. So when she'd go to work in the morning I'd get to work painting. I'd paint until about noon or so and then go to bed. She'd get home around 3:30 or 4 and I'd have to pretend I hadn't been up all morning. By 6 or 7 I usually dosed off on the couch though and she would get mad that I was sleeping on her time. I guess she figured I was up all day playing video games or something, not an unrealistic assumption. A month or so of that before Christmas morning and then she felt horribly guilty for getting mad. It does beg the question, how did she not know an entire room in her house was being painted?

Truthfully, I'm not sure why she wasn't suspicious. I made sure to put a lock on the door to that room and hide the keys. I expected that to require some explaining but it didn't. If anything I might have told her I was hiding presents in there I think. Ok, but what about the paint smell? There wasn't any. I kept the window open and that seemed to get rid of any smell, not to mention any heat that had been in the room. There were a few times I thought I'd get caught though. Like the time the dog came in and got some red paint on him. When she asked I just said he got into her craft stuff and it was finger paint. "Can you try to be more careful with that stuff?" Can't believe she bought it. Really can't believe she bought it the second time. The other big one was the time I spilled a little paint on myself. Ok, by a little I mean I dumped a large portion of a gallon of blue paint over my hands and arms. I was trying to mark out a circle on the wall so I used the can. I put it up against the wall and soon found out I hadn't secured the lid on tightly. I was left with friggin' smurf hands. After washing them for what seemed like forever I dodged another bullet. Paint mishaps run in the family though.

One time Mom was painting a room and fell of the stepladder she was on. She could have landed anywhere but she landed ass first onto the paint can. She just about crushed the can and was left with a huge welt on her buttcheek. That still doesn't win first place for paint injuries in our family though. Dad was working offshore on one of the rigs. He was doing some painting, a nice bright yellow, when the ladder he was on gave way. He crashed to the deck creaking his jaw. What makes it really funny though is the paint poured all over him. Yep, my bright yellow dad had to be helicoptered to the hospital for his broken jaw. The best part was he got an award for it. Every year someone at that company went accident free they got a safety award consisting of a little plaque. That year they gave him one that had yellow paint all over it and they called it an artistic achievement award. So thanks to them I've got a lot of leeway as far as what can go wrong.

This time it shouldn't be as tough as the nursery was. I don't have to do it in secret. I won't be sleep deprived. It won't take a month since it's not a mural this time. And I don't expect to wind up in a hospital covered in paint. Time will tell for sure though.

Nursery Pictures In Case You Wanted To See How It Turned Out

2008-08-08T20:33:00.009-04:00

Not showing you the whole door because I didn't notice the J was backwards until after the picture was taken and my wife pointed that out.

How pissed was I when I read on the net about how you can just print the pictures on a transparent sheet and project them on the wall so you can trace them?

All the work of finding pictures of these characters to go by as I try to draw them out and paint them. The furthest tree from the crib is the troublemaker that caused me to paint my hands blue. Stupid tree.

If It Was A Horse We'd Shoot It

2008-08-06T10:56:00.005-04:00

So I'm leaving work the other night. I get out of the parking lot and notice the fuel gauge is on empty. It seemed kind of odd since I was pretty sure we'd filled up just that day. I pulled into a gas station just to make sure I didn't run out of gas on the way home. It was full after about three dollars went in. I took that as a bad sign since gas is not selling for a nickel a litre. "Kids, I remember when you could get gas for 65 cents a litre. Way back in the good ole days of 2003." So I got back in the car and it still read empty. In addition to the "you're almost out of gas you idiot" light, the service light and anti-theft light were on. "Super, I need this like I need a kick in the balls."

We made it through the rest of the holiday weekend without any trouble, other than those warning lights. They go well with the check engine light and ABS light that have been on forever. We haven't worried about those since they told us they weren't major issues. Personally, I kind of want to see how many lights we can have on before the car will just stop working altogether. I imagine that last light will be an exasperated little mechanic throwing his tools down in disgust. My wife figured it better to take the car in to get looked at though. So first thing Tuesday morning she took it in. After finding out it was an electrical problem with the gauges that would cost $500 or $600 to fix, she started looking at used minivans. I tended to agree with that decision. I think we'd have been better served using that money to buy a gun and just shoot the stupid car. Of course, that's complicated by the laws regarding firearms. "What do you mean waiting period? I'm mad now." (I try to follow the teachings of Homer Simpson wherever possible.)

So after a little looking she found a descent 2004 model. It had air conditioning which is something we've always wanted. Anyone see where we may have gone wrong by buying a black car without air conditioning? The extra heat does tend to make the kids sleepy though which is a plus. Anyways, she took it for a test drive back to our house so we could all check it out. The kids loved it. Ever since the first time they got to ride in a minivan and realized they could see out the windows they've been lobbying for us to get one. The big one's been lobbying, the other one just sort of makes a lot of noise in the background to punctuate her sister's points. So after taking the van back to the dealership we got to wait to hear if the financing would be approved. That meant all afternoon I got to hear "Did they say we could get it? Can we get the van? Can we, can we, can we?"

Got to the point I just had to say "Erin, they'll call when they know. Now just be patient; you're worst than the kids."

Eventually, we did get the call and found out we were approved. "Really? Are you sure the bank knew it was for us? Someone must have typed in the wrong name or something. All I know is I'm taking my money out of that bank because they obviously have no idea what they're doing." It was no mistake though so now we're waiting to pick it up this afternoon. Once we get it there will be no turning back. I think it will officially make us parents as opposed to just a couple fools too dumb to operate birth control effectively. I guess considering how easily we seem to get pregnant it's a good thing it seats eight. I just hope my wife doesn't hurt herself rolling her eyes when she reads that.

My Girls Like To Party All The Time

2008-08-04T22:58:00.004-04:00

In the kid world birthday parties are right up there with the best possible thing on earth. If it's your birthday then it's pretty much tied with Christmas at the apex of childhood. Even if it's not your birthday it's still pretty awesome. There's plenty of friends to play with since as we all know all young kids are friends. "You're four? I'm three, let's play." Add to that birthday cake, the excitement of presents being opened, and loot bags at the end. What you get is little kid nirvana.

From the point of view of a parent, birthday parties for little kids are disasters waiting to happen. Having a bunch of kids running around in your house all hopped up on frosting can leave you with a bit to clean up in the end. There's also the hassle of getting ready beforehand and trying to make sure everything runs smoothly during the party. It's tougher than I remember it seeming when I was a kid. We've avoided those problems a few times by having the parties outside of the house. The downside there of course is the increased cost. That's why I was impressed with the solution we were treated to yesterday.

Have the birthday party at a park. You don't have to pay and who cares if there's a mess when you leave. Friggin' brilliant. Makes me curse the fact both of our kids, and the third one too, have birthdays in winter. Well, the oldest's is in March but this is Canada so who knows what kind of weather will be like. I'm willing to try it but my wife doesn't want to have to try and convince our friends it's a good idea for their kids to be outside in thirty below temperatures. "Just give them the cake right away and they'll stay warm by running around. That's not frostbite, it's the numb discolouration of pure joy."

Anyways, the weather wasn't an issue with yesterday's party. It was nice and sunny. The best part was that there was a little water park setup in the park. A handful of basically sprinklers cemented into the ground that spray for a few minutes when a button is pushed. Great fun for everyone, especially on a warm day like it was. The problem was we didn't bring swimsuits for the girls. They've never been interested in that sort of running through the sprinklers sort of thing. That is, of course, until the other kids started doing it. So that left us with a choice, let them get their clothes soaked or strip them down and let them play in their underwear. After a scan of the area for creepy looking characters, we stripped them down and let them into the water. Thankfully our kids weren't the only ones playing like that. It still didn't feel like our best parenting moment though. My wife made a point of telling the kids "This is only ok when you're little. You better not run around in your underpants when you get older." Fingers crossed. The craziest thing is when they were done the only dry part on them was their underpants. I can only assume that when they were running around in the water their underpants went all Matrix and avoided each individual droplet. Makes me wish we'd gotten video of it because I bet that would have looked awesome in slow motion.

All in all it was a heck of a party. Playing with friends, eating pizza and cake, watching presents being opened, and then stripping down and running through the sprinklers; who among us wouldn't enjoy a party like that? Then when it's all said and done, you just toss some garbage in the can and you're done. I think it's so great I'm going to try and convince my wife to keep this one in a few extra months so we can have at least one kid with a warm weather birthday. I'm pretty sure her response is going to be just two words and the second one will be you.

Some Assembly Required

2008-08-02T00:41:00.003-04:00

I guess writing some assembly required on the box of toys is nice and concise but I think they should just be honest. In big bold letters it should just say Guess what you're doing this afternoon jackass. Honestly, if the manufacturer took one look at all those pieces and said "I'm not putting that together" then you know it's probably not going to be easy. I understand now what my parents went through. I remember one Christmas my Mom just about lost her mind trying to figure out my transformers. Dad couldn't help her either because he was busy putting decals on toys, just like in the picture on the box. I understand not putting stuff together but how lazy are these bastards at the toy company that they don't even put the stickers on.

Anyways, it all started this afternoon when Nanny pulled into the driveway with a huge box filling up the entire back of her car. The girls were so excited, especially when they saw the picture of a little playhouse on the side of the box. My reaction was a bit more subdued. Something along the lines of "oh crap" if I recall. The kids were losing their minds with joy so I got the box to the backyard with the help of a stroller, opened it up and got to work.

Generally the biggest problem with required assembly is the instructions (see anything from Ikea). I have to admit though that the instructions were pretty good on this one. No messing around with slot A tab B foolishness, or go get an allen key. It was just very straight forward step by step instructions in picture form. I mention the straight forward part because that isn't always the case with picture instructions. When my family was in Australia, Dad bought a didgeridoo. Yeah, I don't know what he was thinking either. We got it home and had a look at the instructions on how to play it. The only problem with that is that the instructions were in Indonesian and some Aboriginal language. It did have pictures though. Based on those I could only assume that in order to play it you had to first strip to the waist and paint some sort of weird markings on your body. Forty five minutes and lots of paint later, I still couldn't play the damn thing.

Getting back to the playhouse though, the instructions were nice and helpful. I was doing good all the way up to about step 4. After screwing the sink in and attaching two adjacent walls I realized I'd used the wrong size screws. I was supposed to use the really big screws, not the big screws. It does beg the question though, why have three different screw sizes when they're all doing the same basic thing? No, I've got to make sure there's 4 little ones, 22 big ones, 3 really big ones, and keep track of which one goes where. So I unscrewed them and fixed it. About ten steps later and I've got all the walls together. The kids are vibrating at the prospect of the roof going on. I put it on and then realise I now have nine big screws to put in to attach the roof to the base. About two screws in I realised a couple things. First, I wish my cordless drill had a charged battery so I didn't have to screw everything in by hand. And second, as much as putting stuff together sucks, putting something together inside what's essentially a plastic box that's outside on a hot sunny day really sucks. Here I am inside a playschool sauna sweating balls as I screw this thing together. The whole time I've got two little girls skipping around the outside of it repeatedly asking me if it's ready yet.

I did finally get it all put together. The void I left inside when I exited, easily a couple pounds lighter, was quickly filled by the kids. Their squeals and laughing as they played with it, for a couple hours easily, made the sweat and frustration worth it. The fact they played by themselves was nice too because it let me get a much needed drink. "No, you guys play by yourselves for a bit. Daddy's got to go rehydrate."

Confessions Of An HG Husband

2008-07-31T13:09:00.004-04:00

Hyperemesis sucks. The constant nausea and difficulty keeping liquids or solids down has wiped my wife out. She's only been dehydrated once so far but she's pretty much been knocked on her ass. Even little things exhaust her and just about any time she eats it's followed by a nap as she tries to keep from vomiting. We knew what we were getting into after going through this twice already but it's still a struggle. It's left us wondering what we were thinking on more than one occasion. Speaking from the point of view of a husband of and HG wife, I've got to say it takes a lot out of everyone involved.

Yes, it means more of the household responsibilities are up to me. I actually gave the kids a bath last week which I think brings the grand total of times I've flown solo on that to four, maybe. It can also be a bit much to have them constantly pulling at me and asking for things. It certainly means it takes longer to post one of these things. Apparently watching daddy type is not what they consider "quality time". Throw in making sure mommy's got everything she needs and it can take a toll. We're lucky that we've got family around us that's very helpful and supportive though which is nice. In my opinion though, HG does have its upside.

When I say it has an upside I'm strictly talking about me. I can't imagine what the positive of actually having this could be and I'm thankful I don't have it. Since I'm not the one in a constant state of nausea induced exhaustion let me tell you what the benefits are for me. For starters, when the kids finally get to sleep and it's time to just relax and watch TV, there's very little debate about what we watch. "What do you want to watch? Oh, you're asleep already. Ultimate fighting it is then." Little tips for HG husbands, if she's awake just let her watch whatever show she wants. Two minutes into Ugly Betty or that show where the couple has eight youngsters and she'll be asleep. The remote is then all yours and you still get credit for being supportive. Thanks to that I've had lots of extra time to get reacquainted with old friends like Seinfeld or Kenny vs. Spenny. I've even gotten into Entourage. I'm not really sure what it is about that show that appeals to me but it's on at least one channel just about all the time which is nice. Also, with the help of the baby monitor, I can keep track of how everyone is doing while I spend time in the basement playing video games. My thumb is starting to toughen up again. If we didn't have kids I can't even imagine how much time I'd have for the things I like to do.

Added free time isn't the only good thing. There's also the food. There's only a select few things she can manage to keep down. At the moment that's pretty much just ketchup chips and croissants with jam. Most other things she can't even be around. That of course leaves just me and the kids at mealtime. It means I have to cook usually but it also means more food for me. The kids hardly ever finish everything on their plates which leaves the rest for me. Provided they haven't turned it into something too disgusting, it could mean quite a feast for me. We also save on grocery bills since we're not going through quite as much food. Another tip for the husbands, buy a few things you know your wife enjoys but that you like too. Odds are she's not going to be able to eat much of it, if any, which leaves a nice little treat for you but you still get the credit for being thoughtful. "If you're too nauseous I guess I could eat that whole cheesecake. The smell of those mozzarella sticks makes you feel sick too? I'll get rid of them for you then." I didn't learn that one the first pregnancy and I actually lost about 15 lbs or so. She couldn't eat much or stand the smell of most foods so I didn't eat as much as normal either. Having kids that need to be fed makes a difference though. Like I said, I get to eat my meal and finish off theirs most times. It's a win win.

Finally, there's the big advantage of HG. It's not my wife's fault that she can't do as much around the house. She's very sick and does as much as she can. (For the record, she does more than I would do if I was in her shoes. I'd be on my back all day long soaking all the pity I could.) It does leave more for me to do around here and that results in one thing, guilt. She feels guilty about not being able to help as much. That guilt just keeps increasing. Think of it as a high interest bank account that you get to cash in at the end. I'm hoping my account will add up to a new gaming system so keep your fingers crossed. That leads me to my final HG husband tip, always make it look difficult. Even if you find it easy, make it look a little bit difficult. You don't want to make it look so tough that she feels horrible, just enough to cause a little bit of guilt. It will also make your wife feel better about herself as a mom when she sees you struggling to do something she does easily on a daily basis. Guilt plus increased self esteem, that's a winning combination.

So it's a very long tough journey getting through an HG pregnancy. It takes a tole on everyone involved. If you're an HG husband though it doesn't have to be all bad, provided you handle it right. You can have free time to watch sports or play video games. You can pretty much eat whatever you want as long as you do it discretely. And ultimately you can bank a nice little guilt account that you can cash in later on. If it wasn't for the horrible, life threatening illness part, it'd be great for everyone involved.

Always Read Warning Labels

2008-07-29T13:20:00.003-04:00

Why do kids think it's ok to put anything they find in their mouths? I guess tasting something is one of the quickest ways of finding out if you're going to put it in the good or bad category. It's still pretty gross and so very annoying. Especially when you show poor judgement.

For instance, if you let your little girl hold onto the sunscreen spray canister. In my defense it was switched to the locked setting, which is not as secure as the name would indicate. One little twist and she was more than happy to spray some in her mouth. I imagine a sunburn to the tongue would really sting but I still think she was being a little to cautious. My wife witnessed this improper application of UV protection and immediately starts to dial poison control.

"Don't you think that's a bit hasty?"

"It says right here on the bottle to call a medical professional or poison control if ingested."

"Oh, fair enough."

"Why did you let her have it anyway?"

"It's sunscreen for kids, why wouldn't it be safe for them to handle?"

"It says right here above the poison control advise to keep out of reach of children."

"I hate you, you sunscreen container. You're just a fountain of information after the fact you smug little bastard. Where were you five minutes ago?"

Our little one didn't even cry or gag from the sunscreen so we weren't too concerned. Everything seemed to be fine which is good since my wife seemed to be on hold with poison control. Personally. with a name like poison control I'd expect them to have operators standing by. If the folks at Time/Life books can do it then why can't they? Anyways like I was saying, all seemed fine while my wife was on the phone with poison control (that really sounds bad when you say it out loud) until the little one started screaming and crying. I picked her up and was surprised to find some weird blue thing hanging from her lip. It turned out to be one of those little chip clip things which only surprised me more because I didn't even know we had any of them. I quickly got it off of her leaving her with a little cut on her lip where it had been pinched.

"Holy crap, I'm like the Inspector Clouseau of parenting right now."

While I wondered if those clip things have a warning on them, someone answered at poison control. They let us know that there wouldn't have been enough in a little spray to be harmful to her.

"You stupid canister. Why'd you get us all worked up like that if your sunscreen isn't even strong enough to harm a child? You're on thin ice so I'd watch my back if I was you."

It was all a good learning experience though. Sunscreen for children doesn't necessarily mean what you think it might. Poison control is not as urgent a place as you might imagine. And if you need someone to look after your kids, I might not be your first choice.

ER Visit #1

2008-07-27T09:06:00.004-04:00

It's been less than two years since we dealt with pregnancy around here. It's easy to forget all the stuff that goes into it. The getting pregnant part has never been a problem for us (didn't mean for that to sound like bragging). It's the aftermath that always proves interesting. By aftermath I mean the Hyperemesis. If you're not sure what that is the click here. Also, if you don't know what it is then how the heck did you find my site in the first place?

Anyways, the HG seems to have hit full force yesterday. Suddenly the ultrasound and the concerns it raised didn't seem quite as important. After a full day of throwing up, 28 at last count, my wife made her first ER trip this pregnancy for fluids. Vomiting that much leaves you dehydrated, as well as tired and emotional. After going through this twice and spending a fair bit of time in ER's, I've got to say that can be one interesting place to be.

It's generally boring as hell but all the waiting is worth it when you get to hear about a guy who punctured his scrotum. He was walking so very gingerly and then we overheard how he'd done it by smacking into some sort of chair. Ouch. I also enjoyed the time a couple police officers brought in a guy they'd pepper sprayed. Not sure what he did but if he's smart he won't do that again. He was whining and carrying on and then one of the cops said "Quite whining. We got sprayed too and you don't see us crying about it." Classic.

I wasn't there very long last night. I spent only about 45 minutes there when I went to pick her up after work. We did get to hear a lady on the phone telling someone about the guy she came to pick up. Apparently he'd broken his ankle when he crashed into a cornfield while skydiving. In my opinion that's about the most badassed way to break a bone. You could go up to just about anyone in a cast, listen to what happened to them and go "You think that's bad, listen to this story." Unless you bump someone who hurt himself fighting a couple bears, you win. I'm sure with all the ER visits in our future we'll eventually bump into that guy. Until then, we're pretty much in maintenance mode, trying to delay her next trip to get IV fluids and sit around for hours on end listening to all the stupid and unlucky stuff that happens to people.

The Waiting Game

2008-07-23T23:31:00.004-04:00

So we had our first ultrasound today. The first for this pregnancy that is. We had tons with the first two. Part of it is because of how sick my wife gets when she's pregnant and part of it is just because they have the fancy machine to start with. Lord knows if I had something like that I'd be using it all the friggin' time. I'd use it on everything in my house. After I was done with every last body part I could comfortably reach on myself I'd move on to food, furniture, the cupboards, it wouldn't matter. "Are we out of soup? I don't know. Just let me get the lubricating gel and I'll check."

Anyways, like I was saying, it's not the first ultrasound we've been through. The first few we were captivated. Just staring at the screen as we got our first glimpses at our little zygotes, or embryos, or whatever the right term is (I'm too lazy to look it up). By this point we only had one real question, "there's only one in there, right?" From what we're told it is just one (thank goodness). The problem is that we've had so many my wife knows how to read the screen. Even worse, she's aware of what the heart rates of our first two kids was and what's generally in the normal range. All this conspired against us when she noticed the heart rate this time was a bit below those numbers. The ultrasound lady asking if we'd ever had a miscarriage didn't help matters. In my head the answer was "WTF are you thinking?"

So of course the wait between that and when we got to see the doctor was an absolute joy. The kids running around like waiting room fighting over toys really brought a sense of calm over everyone. When the kids are really in a mood I like to take them to the waiting room at the ultrasound place and doctor's office just to freak out the expectant parents. First timers are so funny. I tried to ease my wife's concerns but I don't think she bought it. "I'm sure the kid's heart rate was like that because he's just really laid back." That got an "F you" look.

After what seemed like quite a while we finally got to see the doctor. For the record, I think our doctor is a great doctor and a really nice guy as well. We're lucky to have him. That being said, I kind of wish he'd just lied to us today. When the subject of the heart rate came up he told us that there is some evidence that links low heart rates early on with an increased risk of miscarriage. In my head, "Have you met my wife? WTF are you thinking?" Why'd we have to get the guy who knows what he's doing and answers all our questions? On the other hand, I wouldn't want to have the guy who looks at the chart and goes "Well I'm stumped. I don't know what the hell any of this means." I guess we can't have our cake and eat it too.

So we're left with three weeks until the next ultrasound and doctor visit. Hopefully the news will be better for that one. In the mean time all we can do is wait. The only advice anyone has is not to worry about it which is all you can tell someone I guess but that's easier said than done. To me that seems like telling someone who's deathly afraid of snakes that you put a giant python in a box over in the corner of the room. "I'm pretty sure I locked the box but I'm not certain. Either way, just try not to worry about it. See you in three weeks." I'm sure everything will work out but until then, waiting sucks.

Honey, I Shrunk The House

2008-07-21T14:46:00.004-04:00

When did my house start shrinking? I remember when we first moved in and it seemed almost big. So much empty space, more rooms than we needed, and places to store things. Now I can't open a cupboard or walk up a flight of stair without running into a doll. "Be quiet, my dolls are sleeping in their bed."

"My mistake, I thought that was the china cabinet. Do they need a playhouse? I could just move the TV out on the lawn. Calm down, I was just joking."

It doesn't seem to matter what we do either. We have toy boxes and rubber made containers for their toys. All of which seem to be full yet the house is still one big toy obstacle course. I'm convinced the toys are reproducing somehow. I swear I've heard cheesy porno music coming from the toy boxes. I also believe they can walk or at the very least crawl. The kids can't possibly be the ones putting toys directly in the paths I most often take at night, can they? Sitting in their bed and asking me to get them a drink in the middle of the night and then waiting anxiously for the inevitable crash to follow. I stub my toe on a doll and stumble down the stairs as I hear laughter coming from her room. "I got you daddy. That was a good one."

"Yeah, you got me. See how funny you find it when I come back with your drink and a Halloween mask on."

It's not just the storage though. I got home from work last night to find my bed full. I had to try and maneuver my way into a spot among the two kids and my wife. After we all staked out our spots on the king size bed there was no room left for the dog. He chose to sleep in the closet rather than fight for some space. I think he might actually have been the smart one of the bunch. We've got three bedrooms, a crib, and four bed set up in our house but the four of us were squeezed into the same bed. The kid parent kid parent setup also made things interesting since the kids don't like having the blanket on them. I, on the other hand, prefer not to freeze my ass off.

When I asked how it came about that everyone was in the same bed I got to hear about the guilt trip that was responsible for it. "I just want someone to cuddle with. Why do I have to sleep in my bed while you cuddle Cameron to sleep?" I would have had no chance against something like that so I couldn't even be upset about her caving in. Actually, the fact she wasn't sleeping in our bed with a new doll means my wife did better than I would have.

At the rate things are going I expect by the end of the week I'll be sleeping in the closet with the dog. Hopefully he'll let me have some blankets.

It's Not Real?

2008-07-19T14:06:00.004-04:00

I've never been a big one for watching the evening news. On the other hand, my wife never misses it. Not a big deal since I'm usually working when it's on. So yesterday she sat down to watch it like any other day. The kids cooperated and played in the room with her while she watched. It was a nice relaxing little treat, getting to watch some grown up TV instead of having to entertain the youngsters. Everything was going fine until they did a story about local fella who apparently made a horror movie. I guess they figured it was newsworthy because Robert Englund, the guy who played Freddy Crueger, was in the movie.

So they do their story about the movie, no big deal. The problem was that they showed a scene from the movie in the course of doing the story. I didn't see it but I'm told it was pretty graphic and very creepy. It certainly wasn't the sort of thing you'd expect a TV station to show at 6 in the evening without any sort of warning about the nature of the content. Previously, the only thing I'd see as being at all offensive on that station's evening news was the time the anchor introduced a piece about the increase in childhood obesity by talking about "the rise in the number of fat kids in today's society." I swear those were his exact words. I taped it and laughed my ass off each time I watched it. It makes me think the anchor is some sort of Ron Burgundy type who will read anything they put on the teleprompter. Anyways, my wife was so disturbed by what she saw and the fact they gave no warning that she did something she's never done before. She called the station to complain.

She emailed them first actually and then called. She spoke to some guy there and explained the situation. She mentioned the graphic nature of the images and the fact there'd been now warning. He listened to her concerns and then said the words that made me laugh so very hard when the story was relayed to me minutes later. He actually said "Well you know it's not real, right?"

My wife played the concerned parent card by answering "I know it's not real but my three year old didn't." That was probably the right way to answer but personally when I was told the story my mind began racing with possible alternative replies to his condescension. I figured I'd throw a few out there and see what you think of them.

1. Hold the phone away from her mouth and pretend to yell to the crowd around her. "Calm down, everyone calm down! I've got some good news."

2. "So I'm guessing I am the first person to call your station who wasn't a complete moron."

3. "Originally, I was upset but after talking to you now I'm more impressed you can actually operate a phone."

4. "Can I speak to your supervisor? I have a new complaint now."

5. "Not real? Are you talking about the scene or your entire newscast? Because I make a lot of decisions based on the information you guys give me."

Too bad I can't figure out a way to make a living by being a smartass.

Keep Trying

2008-07-18T14:04:00.004-04:00

I need to do a better job of cleaning up around here. As I've said before I've made the mistake of leaving scissors, pepper, sprinkles, and who knows what else lying around. Every time it came back to bite me in the ass. Each of those just resulted in a little problem that was easily cleaned up. My tidying 'tardedness left me with something to deal with all day long just recently though.

I woke up the other day with my little girl sitting on the foot of my bed with a Toys 'R Us flyer. She was very interested in the Barbie ride on car they had on the cover. "It's got a wheel to drive with and a horn. You can put stuff in the back and the seat belt is purple." That's not the sort of thing you want to hear at 7:30 in the morning. Especially after having stayed up until 1:30 the night before watching the ballgame.

"This could be a long day.'

So we started our day, that car still the only thing she wanted to talk about. I got to hear about how it's just for little kids while we ate breakfast. I mean a snack. Heaven forbid we should tell her she's eating a meal. "Here's your snack, a grilled chicken breast, mashed potatoes, and corn on the cob." After we ate, it was playtime. The kids rode on my back while they pretended I was a car. I assume she's trying to physically wear me down until I cave and buy it for her. Good luck, I'll play that game until I drop before I buy that car.

After getting a break while they played together in the big one's room, I suggested we go to the park. Always a popular idea with the youngsters. I buckled them into the double stroller and off we went. Guess what she talked about on the way there? Yep. She has big plans too.

"When I'm bigger I can drive my car. I'll drive it to school and my friends can ride in it. When I get to school I will get out and go to school."

"Did you just say you're going to drive your car to school?"

"When I'm bigger."

So she plans to drive herself to school. Part of me would love to see that. I can just imagine her being the only kid driving herself to kindergarten on the first day. Extolling the virtues of the vehicle and trying to physically beat me into submission didn't work but the complete absurdity or her plan make me lean in her direction. I think she thought she'd won too when it came time to go pick her mom up from work.

"Time to go get mom."

"Are we going somewhere after we pick up mom."

"Yes, we have to.."

"We going to go get the pink car?"

She was so hopeful that I almost felt bad about laughing. Almost. Instead I as just about in tears laughing. It helped that she found it as funny as I did. I think at that point if we'd had the money she'd be well on her way to driving to kindergarten on her first day. Guess she's got some work to do. And I need to keep the flyers out or her reach from now on.

It's Not How You Start, It's How You Finish

2008-07-16T12:59:00.004-04:00

It's nice when a day that starts out crappy gets turned around. Yesterday, I got to wake up with a ringing phone waiting for me. On the other end was my wife letting me know the car broke down on the way to work and she was at the garage getting it fixed. "Oh damn. Are you sure loud squealing and grinding noises are really that bad? Just turn the radio up." Turns out that is the sort of thing that requires immediate attention. Almost seven hundred dollars later and it was ready to go. "Yeah, I didn't feel like paying all the bills this month anyways."

So forking out that kind of money before noon when I didn't plan to usually means the day is shot. I have to admit it got better though. Since my wife didn't go to work because the car wouldn't let her, she decided we were going to go swimming when she got home. We quickly gathered up the swimsuits and towels and were out the door. Who would have thought a public pool would be crowded on a hot summer day? I know, I was surprised too. Surprised my wife didn't expect there to be so many people there. "Oh really? How about after this we go get some ice cream and then go to the beach? I'm sure nobody is doing that either." We managed to stake out a little corner for the kids to have fun in. They had a blast which of course is contagiously mood brightening. After an hour we decided to leave since I figure that's almost the point where the ratio of water to little kid pee starts to lean toward the disgusting side. I was feeling pretty good when we left. Then I remembered they had gymnastics at 4:30.

While driving there I had flashbacks to last week that I can only describe as Apocalypse Now-esque (oh, the horror) I was not optimistic about how the class was going to go. I braced myself for the inevitable car wreck as I watched the clock inch closer and closer to 4:30. The time came and nothing. The big one went off with the other kids and the instructor without so much as looking back. "Are you serious? Am I about to be Punk'd?" My excitement was only increased when a couple of the other kids in her class started crying and had to be tended to by their parents. "Yes, it's not mine. It's not mine!" Just a tip, don't actually yell that out in the viewing area. The other parents generally consider that sort of gloating to be a tad bit dickish. It wasn't perfect though. The little one decided she needed both her parents with her but compared to last week that was a cake walk.

I was so euphoric after gymnastics that we went to the park to play. My wife dropped us off at the park around the corner and then went home to cook supper. We played for about half an hour before getting the call to come home. I understand sand is fun to play on and soft for falling on but it gets everywhere. I still have sand in my hair, not to mention several crevices. Small price to pay though because by the time bedtime rolled around they were exhausted. They were asleep with very little effort on our part. "I don't care if it only took fifteen minutes, I'm still taking credit for this bedtime. It does so count." Apparently, the combination of swimming, gymnastics, and playground fun is the magic recipe for an easy bedtime. Top it all of with an All Star Game that went fifteen innings, ending with a close play at the plate, and I'd say the day definitely turned around. Now if that stupid car would just cooperate we'd be all set.

Oops I Did It Again

2008-07-15T00:26:00.003-04:00

So last week I'm minding my own business downstairs when I get called upstairs. Looking back I should have recognised that urgent yell but at the time I didn't think anything of it. I get to the top of the stairs and right away have a weird little stick stuck in my face. Couple that with the constant questioning, "Do you see it? Do you see what I'm seeing? Well, do you?"

"What am I supposed to be seeing?"

"The line, do you see the line?"

"What line?"

"Right there. There's a line. Do you know what that means?"

"Yeah, you need to get your eyes checked."

Just for the record, I totally saw the line. I just didn't want to admit it. In my mind, if I didn't say it out loud then it wasn't real. I tried to say it was just a faint thing you see when something like that gets wet. That caused her to immediately go get another one that she'd taken a while ago that didn't have any line, not even a faint little one.

"You pee on things entirely too much. Seriously, that's not normal."

So that's how I reacted when I found out we're going to have another baby. I tried the total denial approach. It doesn't seem to have changed the results of that test though. It didn't change the results of the test she took at the doctor's office or the blood tests they did either. They all conspired to swing the ratio of kids to parents in favour of those lovable little leprechauns. (Leprechauns partly because of their Irish ancestry and partly because they're tiny, hard to catch, wear diapers with rainbows on them. Definitely no pot of gold at the end of it)

So two out of the three times I found out there was a bun in the oven was by having a pee covered test thrust at me. The other time she came home with a baby on board sticker on the stomach of her shirt. That one wasn't as startling. Who knew giving someone news when you're not panicked is the way to go? Certainly makes for a calmer reaction. I wasn't the only one with an interesting reaction to the news though.

I told my mom and her reaction was "how'd that happen?"

"Seriously? You do know you're a nurse, right?"

Mom in turn told my sister. Her reaction was to email me and say "I'm not sure if mom was supposed to tell me. If she was then congratulations. If she wasn't supposed to, then do you have something to tell me?"

Then there was the kids. We haven't actually told them yet. Here's hoping they don't learn to read and maneuver their way through the Internet to this post. I asked the oldest if she thought we should have another baby. Her response was "you should have a baby for Cameron to play with because she doesn't like to play with me sometimes."

"Ok, so we should have one so Cameron can be a big sister. Do you think she'd like to have a boy or girl to play with."

"Umm, how about a boy and a girl?"

"Go to your room. You can come out when you stop saying things that give daddy a panic attack."

A Recipe For Disaster

2008-07-12T00:25:00.004-04:00

I enjoy anything baked. Bread, cake, pie, muffins, cookies, croissants, I love it all. I'm not exaggerating when I say love either; it's almost an unnatural thing. At my local grocery store there's a distinct path worn into the flooring leading from the front door to the bakery section. I don't think they'd have any trouble matching the footprints that made it to the tread of my sneakers. If I was a baker, the bakery would be empty and I'd be the world's fattest baker. I'm nowhere nearly jolly enough for that so I ruled that out as a career path long ago.

With that in mind, it's no surprise my kids enjoy baked goodies too. That's why I figured we'd have fun if we made some cupcakes together. It'd be like arts and crafts except you get to eat it at the end. So I planned ahead and got it all set up. I put the bowl on the floor so all three of us could help and to minimize the risk of spills. Anything falls on the floor and it's easily swept up. I handed my older girl the cake mix packet and she poured it in without incident. You didn't think I was going to make it from scratch, did you? I love all thing baked but I'm not Martha friggin' Stewart. Next came the water with minimal spillage. I got her to help me count as we poured four half spoonfuls of cooking oil in. (Fun and educational, that's just good parenting there.) She even helped crack the eggs without getting shells in the batter. I've got to get her to show me how to do that.

Then the bowl went back up to the counter for the electric mixer to do its job. Kids a safe distance away, so far so good. Once it was mixed I brought it back to the floor so we could scoop the batter into the muffin tray, cupcake tray in this case I guess. Everyone got their spoon and we started to fill up the cups. A little bit messy but that was expected. Everything is under control. "Why is there a paintbrush in the batter?" Apparently, the spoon wasn't good enough for the little one so she decided to use one of her little paintbrushes. She also didn't agree with our idea of putting the batter in the tray and proceeded to paint on the floor. No big deal. I'm pretty sure wikipedia said the early French Impressionists worked with cake batter, or it will say that when I'm done with it. Ok, cupcakes ready to bake with about the level of mess I'd expected, other than the painting of course. If you look at it just right it looks like a sailboat though.

Fast forward half an hour and it's time to put the frosting on. Everyone is assembled happily at the kitchen table, plastic knife in hand. Can of frosting is opened, stirred (I already told you, I'm not Martha) and ready to go. I expected a tornado of frosting but it actually went pretty well. So well in fact that I decided we should add sprinkles. That would be the first big mistake. I got the nice four chambered plastic container full of pink, purple, blue, and yellow sprinkles. The got to pick colours and together we spread them over the cupcakes. All going well until I got a call from nature and went to answer it. Big mistake number two. I can't prove it but I believe they slipped something into my water to make me have to go. With me out of the way, they could launch their evil plan.

I was gone for maybe three minutes. One hundred and eighty seconds. That's how long it takes for two youngsters to completely pop the top off a sprinkle container and empty it. I walked back into the kitchen to the sound of laughing and was greeted with "I'm sorry." Took me a second to realise what she was sorry for and then I saw it. A beautiful rainbow of sprinkles over the table, the chairs, and the floor.

"Oh no, not again."

To make things better I was given the explanation that it was a sprinkle ocean. I was less than impressed but I couldn't exactly argue with that one. After all, it could have been worse. They could have taken advantage of the frosting and iced each other. That would have been fun to explain to their mom. I know how I'd do it though. I'd wait until I was just about to leave for work and then tell her as I was halfway out the door.

"Oh, by the way, the kids got together and ate a big tub of frosting this afternoon. Have fun with bedtime. Love you, bye."

Follow that up with the sound of tires squealing as I made a Fast and Furious getaway. So as bad as it was, at least it didn't come to that.

Welcome To A World Of Pure Imagination

2008-07-11T09:42:00.004-04:00

I absolutely love to see my kids using their imaginations. The things they come up with amaze me and usually crack me up. Well, it's mostly the three year old being imaginative. The little one is more into copying which is actually pretty entertaining too. One kid singing and dancing, cute. Two kids singing and dancing, hilarious.

Like I was saying though, the older one is at the stage where she's big into the pretend play. She likes to get a doll or stuffed animal and tell me "that's my baby and I'm a mommy". So far that hasn't led to any big criticisms of our parenting yet. Mostly she just pushes her in a stroller and puts her to sleep. Apparently, that's all she thinks we do as parents. Ever had a three year old tell you to be quiet so her baby doesn't wake up?

"Yeah, that would suck if someone woke her up while you were trying to get her to sleep. Any chance you're gonna keep that in mind tonight at bedtime? Didn't think so."

It's really cool how she sees things when she's playing. An entertainment centre is a dollhouse. A bunch of couch cushions thrown together is a castle. Put a couple chairs beside each other, grab a toy plate for a steering wheel and you've got a car. Oh, and anytime she's driving her car she make a stop at the Tim Horton's drivethrough. I haven't heard her ordering a double double yet but she's got Timbits and a drink down pat. That and the fact she uses debit anytime she's playing store are the best examples of how much she's been paying attention to us. It's not all castles and cars though. Her creative mind can backfire as when she uses it to avoid taking responsibility.

"Have you seen my keys?"

"I was playing with them."

"Can you go get them for me?"

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"A wizard disappeared them."

"Oh crap. Is he going to bring them back?"

"No, he disappeared them."

"Ok, just let me make a phone call.... Hi, I'm not going to be able to come in to work today because I can't drive my car. Apparently, a wizard disappeared me keys.... Yeah, a wizard disappeared them again. It's crazy right? I think I'm being targeted or someth.... What's that? If I don't show up for work today someone is going to make my job disappear? Damn wizards."

"Good news sweety, daddy's going to have lots of extra time for tea parties. You want to pass me the invisible Timbits and a cup of tea?"

I Should Know Better By Now

2008-07-09T10:08:00.005-04:00

Sometimes I'm amazed at how naive I am about this whole parenting thing. I've been doing it for a little while now, I've been told just over 3 years but who knows for sure. "I'm supposed to remember each kid's exact birth date? Our wedding anniversary too? Crap, I'm going to need an assistant or something." Since it's not my first day on the job you'd think I would remember how resistant my kids can be to trying new things. Luckily, my kids are kind enough to remind me when I forget important details like that.

Yesterday we took them to their first gymnastics classes. The older one had done it before but only in the class where parents participate. That was the class the little one is in now while her big sister's class is just the kids and instructors. We got there a few minutes early and the entire time we were waiting it never occurred to me that it could go wrong. I don't know what I was thinking. The little one went with her mom and the big one went to her class. Inside I'm thinking "yes, all I have to do is sit, watch, and maybe take a few pictures". That was the case for about two minutes, it was a truly magical time, and then the tears started. Not sure whether it was seeing her sister getting to have her mom in the class, the sight of me watching from the viewing area, or a combination of the two that set her off. Whatever the cause was, I had to leave my parental refuge to console her. That took a little bit of time and effort. I used to think it was impossible to express both joy and sympathy in one facial expression but that's was the expression on the faces of all the other parents. That I feel sorry for you but I'm just glad that's not my kids freaking out look that every parent knows. At that point, parental participation in the toddler class seemed like a welcome relief so I was thrilled when I heard the words "I want mom".

"Done."

I jumped at the chance to switch kids like an Olympic gymnast running down a vault track. That quickly turned into that clip where the gymnast missteps on the springboard and slams chest first into the vaulting platform, when I came to a couple realizations. I have no idea what we're supposed to do at the different stations and it's hot as hell in here. So now instead of trying to calm down a three year old so she'll participate in the class, I'm sweating buckets as I chase an 18 month old and try to stop her from taking all the hula hoops. As near as I could figure, she was supposed to go through a series of hoops that were standing up, hug a teddy bear while she rocked back and forth, and then climb a series of mats. Apparently the instructions she heard was run around and make your dad look like a bumbling jackass. Who knew kids that age had trouble following instructions?

Needless to say, I was more than happy to trade kids again when I saw the other one wasn't crying anymore. Until I got back over to her that is. "Damn it." Thankfully, that was just brief and she happily started jumping over the balance beams with the other kids. I took that opportunity to gradually move further and further away. By the time they moved over to the trampolines she didn't even notice I wasn't with her anymore. So it started out so very poorly but turned around by the end of the class. Looking back at the other activities we've had them in (swimming, dance, play classes) it was par for the course. I should have realised going in how it was probably going to go. I guess it's not always a good thing to repress memories like that.

You Want Fries With That?

2008-07-08T09:15:00.004-04:00

So let me get this straight. On top of putting a roof over their heads, clothes on their backs, and vacuuming up all the fairy dust from their rooms so they can sleep at night, I have to feed them too? I really should have read the fine print before I signed on for this. "Let's see, I've got the contract right here. Three meals a day plus snacks? Who negotiated this thing? Consider yourself fired." That makes me feel better but it doesn't exactly help me with the problem at hand.

From the time they get up in the morning to the time I toss them to their mom and dash out the door to work (anyone who tells her I don't work 7 days a week is going on my list), I get to repeatedly hear "I'm hungry". Soon that'll be in stereo since the little one is starting to talk now. Don't get me wrong, I remember being a kid and thinking my parents had magical food powers and could produce a feast just by snapping their fingers. Now that the roles are reversed and I realise that parenthood does not in fact bestow any magic culinary abilities upon me, I sympathise with what they went through. We're not even at the point yet where the kids are that picky about what they eat so we still have that to look forward to. My sister's favourite snack for the longest time was toast cut into triangles, grated cheese, and a fudgee-o. If I ever open a restaurant, I can't ever imagine why or how I would do that, I'm putting that on the menu and naming it after her. "I'll have the super picky weirdo and a coke."

When the kids were just babies, it was all so simple. They got hungry, they got a bottle. They got hungry, they got breastfed. Just as a side note, if I had to breastfeed we'd have some hungry kids. The concept seems so simple, put the kid's mouth there and they eat. The reality of it is so much more involved. Do they have a good seal? Are they suckling right? Did the milk come in? How can I make more milk? "Screw this, you can have a bottle. Your immune system seems strong enough." Next they move on to baby food which is disgusting but still pretty simple. I figure the problem starts, like most of them do, when they get the ability to talk and ask for things. If you want proof of that then look no further than an average breakfast discussion.

"What do you want for breakfast?"

"I want a snack."

"A snack? What kind of snack?"

"A snack."

"You want some pancakes?"

"I don't like pancakes."

"You ate nine for breakfast yesterday."

"I don't like them."

"You do realise I just woke up, right?"

"I want a snack."

"Fine, here's a pop tart."

That brings me to my big problem when it comes to feeding them, I'm the one supposed to make the choices for them. Looking at the way I eat, I'm pretty sure I'm not the most qualified person for the job (I believe baked goods constitute a food group). "So if left to fend for myself I'd eat an entire pie as a meal and I'm supposed to instill healthy eating habits in my kids? Good luck with that one." Speaking of which, all I see is commercials and articles telling me how important it is to model good eating habits for me kids. What happened to all that crap they told us in school about not caving in to peer pressure? I'm getting a real mixed message on that one. Just kidding, that's actually the basis of all parenting. Follow this rule at all times, unless I give you an order that directly contradicts it but benefits me.

Now I'm going to admit to doing a horrible thing. My kids, on more than one occasion, have eaten.... fast food. There I said it. I feel guilty when I eat it, let alone when they do. Sometimes, desperate times call for desperate measures. I'm convinced places like MacDonald's have separate play areas so all of us bad parents can feel a little less guilty while we watch the kids get some exercise on the slides. Free from judgemental eyes, we can drown our guilt in delicious fries and burgers. Somehow it just makes me feel like not making the right choices is ok sometimes.

What's In A Name

2008-07-07T09:05:00.003-04:00

In case anyone was curious where I got the name for this little diversion of mine I figured I'd shed a little light on the matter. If you're not curious then I guess you can get back to doing something productive with your time. Yeah, I don't want to either.

Anyways, it started with me making some sort of smart ass comment about parenting. Can't quite remember what it was but it got any eye roll from my wife so it must have been a good one. I responded to her eye roll by saying that I'm so good at parenting I should have my own show. A supportive "I'd like to see that" was all the encouragement I needed. I sent Discovery Channel an email, mostly out of spite I think, and then it's just sort of evolved from there into this. Here's the actual email.

Dear Discovery Channel,

I'm hoping you can help fulfill my father's day wish. I would like my own show about parenting called Dave's Guide to Parenting, Why My Wife is Always Wrong. In the area of parenting my "credentials' come from being a stay at home dad of 2 children for the past 3 years. My girls, ages three and one and a half, have made it this far without serious injuries, criminal records, or substance abuse problems so I figure I must be doing something right. That puts me ahead of most of the parents of young celebrities who are always writing books on parenting or giving advice on the subject.

I would have three goals with this show. First, I'd like to be able to help regular guys like me be better dads. At the very least, make them feel less guilty about their own personal parenting shortcomings. Second, getting paid would be nice. A little extra income on top of the jobs my wife and I have would certainly help to offset the rising price of gas. Third, and most important, having my own show about parenting would really quiet my wife. Any time a parenting disagreement arouse I could just say, "Do you have your own tv show about parenting?" That would be so sweet. If you could help make that dream come true, I'd be forever grateful. If you can't, then could you help me to meet the Mythbusters or at least get a t-shirt? That would also be cool. Thanks for your time.

A loyal viewer,
Dave

P.S. When is Shark Week?

To date, I haven't gotten anything but an automated response so I'm still hoping for a real reply or, dare I dream, a Mythbusters t-shirt.

Coming Soon To A Theatre Near You

2008-07-05T14:55:00.003-04:00

Last night we actually got to go out and see a movie. In case you're wondering, Hancock is entertaining but I don't think it's worth paying theatre prices to see. We had a couple free passes given to us as a gift so no complaints from me. Throw in the fact that we got two hours away from the kids in it may just be the best gift we've ever gotten. I now know why the credits at the end of movies go on so long. It gifts parents that much more time away from the kids. "Oh, so Fulton Singleton was the rigging grip. He did a great job."

"Excuse me sir, we need to clean up before the next showing."

"Just a minute, I'm trying to find my keys."

"They're in your hands."

"You win this round."

It was a nice escape from reality but it just reminded us more of how things were before we had kids. We'd go out to dinner or a movie whenever we wanted. If we woke up one morning and decided to drive to Montreal to see a ballgame, we could just hop in the car and go. We got to shower regularly. And then in the blink of an eye everything changed. I remember the moment like it was yesterday.

I was sitting on the couch watching tv. I was flipping channels between the Man Show and the movie Grind, a nice little comedy about four skaters who follow their idol on his summer tour in an attempt to get noticed, get sponsored, and become stars themselves. IMDB stole that synopsis from me. If you don't believe me then prove me wrong. Anyways, as I sat comfortably entertained in what I didn't realise was my last moment of not being responsible for another human being, my wife was upstairs about to have a shower. She took the opportunity to take a pregnancy test since she was about to start a new kind of medication and has always been extra cautious about that sort of thing. I wasn't aware she was taking the test so when I heard her yell "get the (expletive deleted) up her now!", I had no idea what was going on. She showed me the positive test, explained how it worked and what the different lines and symbols meant. Once I comprehended what she was telling me, I looked at the test, and reacted like just about every expectant father in history has. "Well, that can't be good." I definitely defy you to prove me wrong on that one because that is word for word an exact quote. Obviously, after our initial panic wore off we were happy and excited but I think if we knew what we were in for we might have stuck with our original reactions.

Now, going anywhere is a process that has to start at least thirty minutes before we intend to leave. Diapers need to be changed, clothes generally need to be switched for clean ones, a bag of bottle, wipes, diapers and snacks needs to be prepared, and more often than not some sort of fight occurs. Parent versus child, parent versus parent, child versus child, or parent versus child versus child versus parent in some sort of Texas tornado cage match of death. Going out without the kids involves pretty much the same amount of preparation and planning. Just throw in getting someone to look after them and add the guilt you feel as you quickly make your escape out the door. That's one of the dead giveaways when it comes to spotting a parent of a young child who's out for a night without the kids, they're constantly checking their cell to make sure there's no messages for them. Other sure signs include stains on the clothes, a sense of urgency as they go about their business (almost as if they're afraid they're being followed), and scratches on the arms from when they pried the kids off on the way out.

Like I said, it was kind of nice to be reminded how carefree things used to be but I still wouldn't go back if I could. Coming home and having them get so excited that they come running is better than getting to see any number of movies or ballgames. Seeing the sitter look tired and on the verge of breaking kind of makes things better too in some sick sadistic way. Two movie tickets, popcorn and drinks, 32.17, having someone else terrorised by your kids for two hours, priceless.

A Blast From The Past

2008-07-04T11:58:00.004-04:00

Another July fourth is here, the year seems to be flying by, so I'd like to wish all my American friends a happy fourth. This day makes me think of summertime, baseball, and of course the latest Will Smith blockbuster. Actually, I mean fireworks but that guy is like Mr. Fourth of July Box Office. It's been well documented where my kids stand on the topic of "big bang booms". For me though, I can't think about fireworks without remembering the time Dad had the bright idea to set some off in the backyard. I think it was for New Year's Eve if I'm remembering correctly. Everyone was watching from the safety of the kitchen as he set it up and lit the fuse. Deep down we all knew the combination of Dad and any kind of explosives was something we wanted to see but from a safe distance. As the fuse burned, he scurried into the kitchen to watch with everyone else. It was the perfect spot to witness a gust of wind knock the firework over just as the fuse got down to the end. It took off like a shot, slammed into the shed, and ricocheted up over the neighbour's tree. In my opinion, you can't buy memories like that.

Now that I have my own kids I understand that creating memories is what it's all about. If I do my job right then they'll grow up smart, healthy, happy, and looking back on their childhood as they say "it sure was fun having that silly bastard around". What other possible motivation could there be for piling your whole family into a cramped car or overstuffed minivan and drive across the country? Looking at it from a rational point of view, you'd have to be a complete fool to do something like that. My parents drove right across Canada with us more times than I'm sure they'd like to remember. The one that gets talked about most is the one we all refer to as "the vacation from hell".

They foolishly piled me and my two sisters into the minivan which was packed to the gills and we headed out. We weren't even out of the city and things started to go wrong. They had to make a stop so Mom could drop something off at her brother's house. She put it his mailbox and on her way back to the van slipped on the grass and slid right underneath us. If you're not even twenty minutes from your house and one of you is already under the van, it's probably a sign that things are not going to go well. So after deciding Mom wasn't in need of medical attention, and recovering from hysterical laughter, we headed out of town. Good thing too or we might have missed the traffic caused by the highway construction going on. That brings up an important point. If you combine gridlocked traffic and a minivan of bored kids, you're just asking for trouble. It's also not a good idea to sit in front of me if I have easy access to ice cubes. Those two unfortunate situations collided and an ice cube found it's way down Dad's back as he drove. To say he didn't find it as funny as I did would be a bit of an understatement. If he wasn't amused then the guy hold the slow sign was downright offended. Another useful tip, the guys in charge of holding signs at construction sites do not appreciate it when you floor the accelerator. Also, "sorry, my kid's an a-hole" is not a valid reason in their books.

So after finally making some progress it was time to pull over and relax a little. For us that meant we did a little fishing. Everything was going well until my sister fell off the rocks and into the water. She may have had some help, accounts are sketchy on the subject. Either way, seeing her windbreaker balloon up with air as she splashed about and Dad struggle to pull her out still makes me chuckle. Apparently, it wasn't helpful to have me standing beside trying to hook her with my rod and reel her out. I think it would have made a heck of a nice picture though if I'd been able to do it. I wish I could say that was all that went wrong on the trip but I'd be forgetting about the van breaking down and getting stuck in a little town for a couple days. That left us with plenty of time to swim in the hotel pool. That would have been fine if I hadn't been overcome with the urge to dunk Mom under the water. Since her swimming skills are minimal at best and she doesn't like to put her face in the water to begin with, that probably wasn't the best idea on my part. Dad still talks about the panic on her face when she resurfaced and I'm not sure she'll ever really forgive me for that one. In my defense, adversity does bring people closer together so I was just adding to the overall bond building experience that was our trip.

At the time, all of that seemed like a horrible experience and I'm kind of surprised they didn't just leave me somewhere. Now, it's just more funny memories we can look back at and laugh about. Ultimately, that's what it's all about. Whether it's taking the family on a trip that's obviously destined for trouble or almost blowing up your shed and essentially firing the first shot against the neighbours (they haven't retaliated yet but I still contend they can't be trusted), I just hope I can do as good a job as my parents have done and give my girls lots of fun memories to take with them into adulthood. If I can do it without blowing myself up, even better.

Lullaby And Good Night

2008-07-03T10:47:00.004-04:00

Working evenings has lots of advantages. For starters, I don't have to deal with traffic. When I'm going to work everyone else is going home and when I'm on my way home everyone else is sleeping. It also means I get to enjoy the nice sunny days of summer. I get to spend a lot of time with my girls. We get to go to the park, go for walks, and do all sorts of fun activities. In doing so, we don't have to pay for childcare and the kids think I'm fun. From time to time I have to spend half an hour trying to find a doll with pink pajamas (any guesses what I just finished doing?) but that's a small price to pay. Especially when weighed against the number one advantage. Five nights a week, I don't have to try and put the kids to bed.

At least 71 percent of the time I do not have to struggle to get the kids to sleep. Granted I've still got the other 29 percent to think about but that can go either way. One easy night and half my week is great. I like those odds. If both nights go bad then no big deal because it's just two nights. On top of that, I'm rarely flying solo so I can usually call in backup if I need it. "Parent down, parent down. I'm taking heavy fire, send backup." There have been rare occasions, I think plural may be applicable, I've been on my own at bedtime. I must say, it's very easy for things to get out of hand quickly. There's the fighting and crying and "can I just stay up a little later?" that can go along with getting the older one in her bed. So that battle is won and she's now in her bed. That still leaves the little one who feels now that she's doesn't have her sister around she's ready for quality mommy or daddy time. By which I mean running around the bed, twisting and turning to the point that picking her up is like trying to grab a greased snake, and finally testing out about a thousand positions before settling on one. Then just as that one settles down and starts down the road to dreamland, the big one starts yelling from her room that she needs something. "I'm not being loud and I'm not waking Cameron up but I need more milk!" It's a shame they don't understand how lucky they are to not thrown or drugged on a nightly basis.

"Mom, my milk tastes funny."

"It's fine, just drink it."

So that's just an average night. Then there's the nights things really get out of hand. One of them throws up for example. Vomit everywhere, a crying youngster, no clean sheets, and then the other one wakes up of course. So my wife is left scrambling to find more pajamas for pukeface, clean up her mess, try to calm down both crying little freaks of nature, and basically start bedtime from scratch three hours after it began. That's about the point my workplace turns into some sort of magical playground in her head. The idea of me off in the magical kingdom of No Kidland certainly doesn't help things. I've gotten many call on my cell that sounded like they were coming from some sort of war zone. A background full of crying and yelling making it hard to hear as she's saying "I'm not sure we can hold out much longer. What's the ETA on backup? I'm pinned down and outgunned, send in air support now!" Ok, that may not be an exact quote but it's close.

The analogy I've been given to try and understand what bedtime is like is to first select the two points in the house furthest apart. One in the basement and one on the top floor. Now set them both on fire and then try to put the fires out with a bucket of water. By the time it's over, you're tired, wet, messy, and the house looks like a friggin' disaster. It makes the point but I think she just uses the fire analogy because I haven't had the best luck in that area.

We had just moved into our house and I was cooking some chicken fingers. As we all know you need to take them out halfway through and flip them over so they cook evenly. I did that and went back to watching TV with my wife. Soon after the smoke alarm went off, not a big concern as it's quite sensitive and goes off almost every time the oven is on. I went to check and was greeted by an oven full of flames. "Get the (bleep) up here now." She bolted from the basement and we put out the fire with our fire extinguisher. The entire house was full of smoke though so we went outside. After some discussion we decided it might be a good idea to call the fire department just to be sure no fire had spread through a vent or anything. She expressed to them that it wasn't an emergency and expected an inspector or two in an SUV or something. The sirens in the distance told us it was more than two guys coming. Two firetrucks full of firemen show up and go every which way in the house. Of course, that causes the neighbours, who I hadn't even met yet, to crowd around and see what's going on. I turn to say something to my wife and she's not there. I look around and she's trying to blend in to the crowd, and act like she doesn't know what's going on. Traitor. So now I'm the jackass in the neighbourhood who can't cook without burning the place down. I don't know why none of the neighbours ever come over for dinner. By the way, the cause of the fire was a pair of scissor with a plastic handle. They'd gotten stuck to the bottom of the tray when I flipped the chicken and then melted and burned in the oven. The firemen were cool about it though. One guy looked at the chicken fingers all covered in fire extinguisher chemicals and asked "you gonna eat those?"

So at the very least, being married to me has prepared my wife for dealing with potential disasters. A skill that comes in handy every night as she wages her constant war against childhood insomnia. And after getting text messages and phone calls detailing the pitfalls and setbacks, work doesn't seem quite so bad. "I don't care if we're done for the night, I'm not leaving. My kids are still awake."

Hope Everyone Had A Happy Canada Day

2008-07-02T13:15:00.004-04:00

I don't like crowds or carnivals and I don't really get the appeal of fireworks. So obviously Canada Day is right up my alley. Despite being a bit of a festivity scrooge I have to say I was pretty happy with the way yesterday went.

We decided to go to the aviation museum to see the Skyhawks put on a parachuting show at noon. On the way we noticed a lady dressed a little skimpy and my wife commented to her brother on the phone that she just saw a midday hooker. It's a good thing the car was stopped or I would have crashed it when a little voice from the backseat asked "what's a hooker?" Great question because I wasn't the one who said something they shouldn't have heard, for once. Apparently, it was the completion of a karmic circle too since my wife asked a similar question of her mom when she was a kid. They were in Philadelphia with some friends and happened to drive past some streetwalkers. She asked her mom who those ladies were and was told they were musicians. I wish the story went on to include follow up questions about what sort of instruments they played but sadly no. Having learned from that we told our little one that a hooker is someone who uses hooks to make rugs. Kindergarten could be interesting considering all the new words she learns from us. "Miss, did you get that rug from a hooker?"

Once I stopped laughing enough that I could drive we headed over to the aviation museum. There were lots of people there but there was also loads of space so it was great. The Skyhawks put on a great show, definitely check it out if you get the chance, and there was lots to see and do there. The kids got to sit in a glider, paint a plexiglass wall, make some crafts, and see the displays in the museum. Fun for the whole family and all for the affordable cost of absolutely nothing. That's a Canada Day celebration I can get on board with. The festival in the park we went to after wasn't.

We drove back across town and found every parking lot at the park to be full. Four different parking lots and not a space to be found. That does bring me to a helpful money saving tip. If you don't want to pay five dollars for parking then just park at the movie theatre half a mile away and walk. Also, if you stop at a gas station on the walk to pick up cold water and snacks you don't have to pay carnival prices. All these savings did wonders to counterbalance my usual humbuggery (that sounds wrong but I'm too lazy to look for an actual word). I may be a party pooper but more than that, I'm cheap. So after a nice little walk, first Canada Day I can remember without any rain, we got to the fair. I believe they officially called it a festival but I prefer to think of it as "let's stand in line for 15 minutes for our turn to do something that's not fun". I can see where their terminology would fit better on a sign. So after finally getting their faces painted, my kids are mental for face painting for some reason, we went on the merry-go-round. The older one wasn't impressed as evidenced by her tears. Her sister however had to be pried off the horse when the ride was over. I mean I literally had to pry her fingers off the bar one by one. Then it was on to the games. That went well since they left with a couple stuffed animals each and a ball. Their mom isn't beg into sports but she's like the Tiger Woods of carnival games.

So the crowds and carnivals went well, on to the fireworks. The kids aren't big fans of loud noises so we decided to park far away enough that we could see them but not hear the noise. As I was told when we got home "I don't like the big bang booms." We heard the parking lot at the hockey stadium was a good spot so that's where we went. There was about a dozen other families too. Everything was going well until some twit decided it would be a good idea to set off his fireworks in the parking lot. A few loud bangs later and I had a crying child thrust into my arms as my wife went over to express her disapproval of his actions. From what I could see it was going ok and then as she walked back to our car he set off another loud one. Oh crap. I handed off my crying youngster to her grandmother and headed over. Partly to help my wife and partly to ensure she didn't end up charged with assault. Luckily a couple folks who were closer got there first and expressed their views that he was showing questionable judgement. All was well and we went back to trying to calm down the kids. We got them calmed down to the point where they didn't want to leave and then some other jackass start shooting his store bought pyrotechnics. Motherfu..... I marched over and chatted with them. Nice fellas, just a little on the dim side. They eventually saw my side and the explosions stopped. As I walked back it dawned on me. I'm now THAT parent. The one pointing out others poor decision making ability and its effect on my kids. The one those guys are referring to in their blogs (read telling their drunk idiot friends about) as an A-Hole. To be honest, I'm fine with it too.

So all in all I'd say it was a good Canada Day. Last year I went on a kiddie train ride with my oldest and she got so upset that she peed on me. Always the sign of a good festival when you leave smelling like urine. Like they say though, it's better to be pissed off than pissed on so I guess this year was a step in the right direction.

Today's Post Brought To You By The Letter P

2008-06-30T10:05:00.005-04:00

One of the many side effects of having kids is that I know the theme songs to all the major kids shows. Dora, Dora, Dora the explorer. Boots and super cool explorer Dora. You didn't think I was going to back that statement up? From Arthur and Barney to Wonder Pets and Zaboomafoo, my kids like them all. Thankfully, most of them have cd's of their songs so we can take the fun anywhere. I've actually caught myself driving down the road while singing along to the Backyardigans songs coming from my radio. The disturbing part is that the kids weren't in the car with me. Kind of embarrassing when you get out the car at work still singing "A Pirate Says Arr". I'm going to go out and a limb though and assume I'm not the only one who's ever done that.

In watching these shows with my kids I've noticed a few things. For starters, if there's a bear as one of the main characters then the show sucks. Little Bear, the Berenstain Bears, Corduroy Bear, I don't enjoy any of them. It's apparently impossible for a cartoon bear to sing a catchy song. Perhaps this is just my own hidden bear prejudice coming to the surface; in which case I think The Colbert Report has more influence over me than it probably should. Another thing I've noticed is there's a fine line between good examples of using your imagination and what appears to be something some dude came up with while high. Backyardigans, fun and educational example of imagination. Toopy and Binoo, drug induced hallucinations that have been animated. Oh and Pocoyo, some kid in a totally white setting playing with a bunch of animal friends including a pink elephant while some omnipitent voice narrates everything for him. That's obviously some crazy kid in a mental ward having a schizophrenic break from reality. I have to admit when I put it that way it does sound entertaining though.

I am thankful though that there are no commercials on Treehouse. They have the decency not to try and market stuff hardcore to the preschool crowd. I made the mistake of watching a show intended for older kids one day with my oldest. The show wasn't inappropriate but I couldn't believe the toy company propaganda they pass off as commercials. Thirty second of being told how amazing the latest Barbie or remote controlled car was and guess what she wanted? All I could say was "that does look awesome". Took me back to when I was a kid watching Saturday morning cartoons. Wearing my Spider-Man pj's, I'd get a bowl of Pac-Man cereal and watch the Smurfs with my sister. For quite a while she'd be sitting on an egg from the fridge. She thought she could get it to hatch if she sat on it so that's how she spent her Saturday mornings. It's how she spent a lot of her time actually. She got so excited the day she heard it start to crack. That quickly turned to disappointment when she realised she'd just shifted her weight and broke the egg. Nothing sadder than a heartbroken five year old with yolk all over her butt. In my opinion, there aren't a lot of things funnier than that either.

Anyways, did I have a point to all this? I forget. All I know is I'm far more concerned about the influence commercials have on kids than what they learn from the actual shows. People got all bent out of shape about Sesame Street's examples. Cookie Monster teaches kids bad habits, Bert and Ernie and gay. What a bunch of crap. First off, he's a monster, he's not supposed to set a good example. On top of that, cookies are delicious. As for Bert and Ernie's lifestyle choice, it's a kids show, everyone seems kind of gay. I don't think either of those is nearly as harmful as what they see in toy ads. Maybe that's just me though.

One more thing while I'm on the topic of kids shows. For the record, Mr. Dressup was far superior to Mr. Rogers. Mr. Rogers kept some weird kingdom of puppets captive in his wall and his constant changing of clothes just scream OCD to me. The only bad thing I can say about Mr. Dressup is that he apparently didn't teach Casey fine motor skills. He had the tickle trunk though so it all evens out.

An Offer I Couldn't Refuse?

2008-06-28T23:14:00.003-04:00

Any discussion about the greatest movies of all time has to include The Godfather. I'd probably put it on the top of my list. That's something my sisters and I agree on. On top of that, it teaches lots of useful lessons for parents. A man who doesn't spend time with his family can never truly be a man. Never take sides against the family. The importance of family is paramount in the entire movie. That aspect makes me enjoy the movie even more now that I have my own family. That is until I had my own Godfather moment recently.

It was a nice peaceful morning as I slowly woke up. A few hazy moments as I brushed off the sleep. Before long I realised my hand was wet, wet and warm. I looked at my hand to try and figure out what was on it and that's when I rolled over. Right there, staring me in the face, was the naked butt of my little one and a half year old girl. My panicked screams caused birds in nearby trees to take flight as my little nude youngster sat up and smiled at me. Apparently, at some point in the five hours between when I went to bed and was jolted awake she took her diaper off and peed all over my side of the bed. I know she didn't do it on purpose but deep down I imagine her standing there pissing away as she smiles like a kid on a trucker's mudflaps. You may wonder why she was in our bed to start with. Well, when it's two in the morning and she's freaking out, I'll pretty much let her sleep anywhere she wants if it means I get to sleep too. Anyways, to say it was a pissy way to start the day would be pretty accurate. I just wish I could say it's the only time something like that has happened to me.

I knew going in to having kids that I'd be dealing with some gross stuff. I think I underestimated it though. I didn't realise I was going to get covered in so many different disgusting fluids, and some solids. I don't even keep track of the number of times they pee, poop, or throw up on me anymore. It's actually at the point now that if they're about to throw up I'll jump in front of it like some sort of weird secret service agent because it's easier to clean my clothes and wash it off me than it is to get it our of the carpet or bedspread. Before kids, having someone pee on me would probably ruin my whole day. Now if that's the worst that happens I'm actually pretty happy. I guess fatherhood has totally shifted my idea of what constitutes a good day. Somehow, a couple cute little kids just make it better.

I feel I should let you know one important thing. If you email a shampoo company to ask them how well their product is at getting urine out of your hair, you will end up on some really screwed up mailing lists. Seriously, I long for the days my inbox was just littered with emails about the latest developments in "male enhancement". Now that I think about it though, I wonder how I got on that mailing list too. I guess I should proofread my emails more, especially ones with the subject line of the pen is mightier than the sword. Forget to push the space bar once and people start assuming things.

And In This Corner

2008-06-26T13:57:00.008-04:00

Having two kids so close in age, less than two years apart, means they always have someone to play with. It's heartwarming to see them sharing their toys as they sit and play. The laughter that echoes down the hall when they're both in a silly mood is one of my favourite sounds. Yeah, the one time that happened was a fun 30 minutes. Actually they get along pretty well but certainly seems like they're always at each other's throats sometimes. And I've noticed something about them when they fight. Children do not fight fair. Their bite, scratch, slap, pull hair, and use emotional blackmail.

"Why did you hit your sister?"

"I hit her because she said she loved you more than I do."

"Fair enough."

I know they love each other. Every night before bedtime they have to give each other a good night kiss. The little one gets pretty offended if that step is skipped. But if they decide they both want to play with the same doll or use the same blanket then it turns into the sort of no holds barred mayhem you usually have to get pay per view to witness. As I watch the playroom turn into the thunderdome I can't help but remember what it was like growing up with a sister only two years younger than me. We had fun but we also had some knock down drag out wars. A problem only further complicated by the fact we were comparable in size. Actually, she was probably a bit bigger than me. Maybe that's why I don't remember winning too many of the fights.

However I do remember having my nose bloodied with a cabbage patch doll. That was a good idea. Let's make a doll that has a nice soft body that's easy to grip and then give it a head made out of rock hard plastic. I like to think of it more along the lines I got smacked in the face by a mace-like club, not that I got knocked loopy by a doll. That wasn't the only time she didn't fight fair though. She once tried to grab my face and in doing so scratched me pretty good. I was left with a long scratch down the centre of my forehead to go along with the little circular one right below it. Have you ever gone to school with an exclamation mark shaped scab on your forehead? I looked like the Riddler's loud cousin. Another scuffle left me with a carpet burned eyelid. I'm just glad I closed my eye when she jumped on my head.

So what have I learned by reliving those childhood traumas? First, if both my girls learn some sort of martial art then the fights should be amazing to watch. "I know I should break it up but come on, it's like a Jet Li movie out there." I learned that no matter how much they love each other, they're going to fight from time to time. I just need to teach them to not bite or hit each other in the face with rock hard dolls. Dealing with each other in a rational non-violent way is their first opportunity to learn socially acceptable ways of dealing with conflict. Finally, I realise that the next time I see my sister I owe her a punch in the back of the head. Honestly, who hits someone in the face with a cabbage patch doll?

Rare And Precious

2008-06-25T00:33:00.009-04:00

Isn't it nice when kids start being useful? Actually, let me clarify. Kids are useful right from the start. They make it possible for you to get the best parking space at the mall possible without having some sort of disability. "Thanks kiddo, daddy didn't really want to walk that extra thirty feet." They're always getting free cookies at supermarkets and rarely finish them. "Half eaten chocolate chip cookie? Don't mind if I do." And if you have a little kid with you, you can pass gas just about anywhere and blame it on them. "Oh my, smells like someone needs their diaper changed." A word of warning on that last one though, it only works up until they start using full sentences. "You little tattle tale. I hope you enjoy sleeping tonight with that monster I put under your bed."

These little perks are nice but I'm talking about when kids start being actively helpful. The point where they think sweeping looks like fun. The time putting toys away seems cool, provided you sing some sort of clean up song while you do it. When they go and get the remote for you is the exact moment you will realise why you decided to have kids in the first place. "Once you're big enough to make a sandwich or get a drink I'll be set." Makes me want to have a lot more kids. I could have my own tiny workforce. My own little army of Oompa Loompas keeping everything below the three foot level in my house spotless. If they sang a cute little song while they did it, even better. For some reason though I think that could come back to bite me like it did the actual Willy Wonka. I think they lynched him or something; I've never seen the end of the movie or read the biography it was based on.

The point where it all turned on me would probably be when they unionise, led by the oldest one I'm sure. Before long she's going to realise all those fun things that makes her so proud of herself are actually work. Once that dawns on her, she's going to expect something in return. She's going to want to get paid. I only hope she learns about the idea of an allowance before she fully grasps the concept of money. "Ok, here's another one of the super special copper coins that are the rarest in the land. They're so rare and precious that you hardly ever see anyone use them anymore." I can dream I guess.

Viewer Discretion Is Advised

2008-06-24T23:55:00.008-04:00

As I sit here writing this, three things come to mind. One, I'm getting tired of the weather network constantly forecasting a chance of thundershowers. Two, Doogie Howser was ahead of his time. I downloaded the episode ending journal music so I can have it playing in the background while I type. Third, where the heck are the kids? Just kidding. They're perfectly happy sitting on the couch watching TV. Yes, I'm using TV as a babysitter. Sue me.

I have nothing against TV. In fact, I'm a big fan. Before I had kids though I didn't want to be one of those parents who just sits their kids in front of the TV. Now, if it'll keep them out of my hair for twenty minutes or so I'm all for it. After having a tea party, finding the dolls they just have to play with (not that one, the little one), breaking up a fight they had over the dolls, explaining why we don't bite, checking to make sure the skin wasn't broken by the bite, gotten them both water (not in that cup, one with a top), changed a diaper, found the Cinderella dress, changed another diaper because she wasn't quite done the first time, and played a game I can only assume they call "let's jump on dad and see if anything breaks", they can watch whatever they want as long as it gives me a break. Theoretically, I'd use that time to do something productive but I think we both know that's probably not going to happen. If I did, you wouldn't be reading this.

The big problem with using that magic glowing box to distract those two maniacs while I quietly escape is that I can't turn it on now without hearing "I want to watch Treehouse". Luckily, they think The Simpsons is one of the shows on Treehouse so I get to watch that at least. It's about the only thing close to appropriate we can watch together. Makes me long for the days when I could watch whatever I wanted without worrying about them. I remember the first time I was alone with my oldest. It was shortly after she was born and her mom was sleeping upstairs one evening. With my precious little baby in my arms I went downstairs, got comfortable on the couch, and together we watched ultimate fighting. I still get a little choked up anytime I see someone take a roundhouse kick to the face or get locked in a guillotine choke. Ok, she wasn't watching, she was asleep. Did make things awkward later though when I was watching it another time and my wife insisted I not watch it with our daughter in the room. "Well, I can promise not to do it again." At least we still had video games. All the bright colours and loud noises of Halo really caught her attention. It was kind of like a Baby Einstein video, just with a bit more violence. Plus if you put a spare controller in her tiny hands she seemed to think she was the one play. It was very cute. She got older quick and soon let me know that sort of thing was a bad idea.

For me that happened one day when I was flipping channels and happened across an episode of Family Guy. As the opening song played I could hear my little girl, as she played with her blocks, singing along. Oh crap. That warning at the beginning that says the following may not be suitable for some viewers, parental discretion is advised; they're talking about me. They're kind enough not to single me out by name but deep down I know they want to.

So all I'm left with now is listening to the radio in the car. At least I thought so until l we were driving one day with the music playing. I wasn't paying attention until from the back I heard a little voice, "get low, low, low, low". Oh crap, my little girl is singing along to Flo Rida. Time to throw in the Raffi CD. Guess I'm stuck in their world now. Stupid parental warning labels.

A Kid For All Seasons

2008-06-23T12:58:00.005-04:00

Have you ever pepper sprayed an 18 month old? It's not as much fun as it sounds but it does keep them in line. Before you call child services on me, I did not pepper spray my 18 month old. I did however make the mistake of leaving a bottle of pepper on the table during snack time. I set the two kids up at the table and went to get some snacks. By the time I got back to the table, the big one had opened up the pepper which apparently wasn't very secure and dumped it all over the table. They were both playing in it as happy as can be when I got back to the table. I was told they were playing with the sand. As I contemplated where I'd gone wrong, the little one splashed the pepper into her own face and all hell broke loose. The little one crying and struggling as I try to flush her eyes out with some cold water while the big one is upset and yelling, "I'm all spicy, I'm all spicy!"

FYI, it takes about 45 minutes for them to calm down after you flush the eyes repeatedly with water. After that though she fell asleep and had a nice little nap so it's not totally devoid of any benefits. That gave me plenty of time to feel guilty about her hurting herself because of something stupid I did. I have no problem if I get hurt doing something stupid. I've got plenty of scars to attest to that. Looking back, even hurting one of my sisters when we were kids didn't elicit as much guilt. And I once pulled out my baby sister's tooth when she was about two. She got it stuck on the pull tab of her coats zipper. I tried to help and in doing so took the whole tooth out. I felt pretty guilty then, after almost fainting. But when it's one of my kids crying it's a different story. I learned that pretty early on. I remember the first day my wife went back to work after having our first little girl. We were in the spare bedroom waving to mommy and watching her pull out of the driveway. Almost the instant she was out of sight my little girl lost her footing, banged her face against the window frame and bloodied her lip. "Are you friggin' kidding me? I've been on the job 48 seconds and you're already bleeding?" On these occasions, I'm left to ponder what chance do these kids have with me looking after them?

Of course, all the dumb things I've done to myself come to mind which doesn't help. There was the time I was cooking some pasta for supper. The very full pot started to boil over so I started scooping water out with a measuring cup. On one of the scoops my hand bumped the pot, which for some reason was super hot, and I jerked it back. In doing so I threw the entire cup of boiling water right in my face. My wife was watching this from behind, didn't see my hand hit the pot, and I can only assume thought I was a complete moron who had just thrown boiling water in his face for no good reason. So I'm standing there, a bit shocked to say the least, when all of a sudden I feel someone grab my head from behind and shove it into the sink. Quick flick of the tap and I've got cold water pouring over my face. Unsure of what's going on, I can only assume she saw an opportunity and is now finishing me off by drowning me. Her attempted drowning though was quite beneficial as it minimised the burn, first and second degree, and prevented any serious long term damage. Still makes me wonder how I can look after two youngsters if I can't even cook for myself without an ER visit?

The truth is no matter how much we try to stop it they're going to get hurt. I could wrap them in bubble wrap and stick them in a room made of Nerf and they'd still hurt themselves. Actually, they'd probably suffocate under the bubble wrap but you already knew that. So I guess all I can do is keep the major dangers away from them and hope their injuries are minor. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got a running with scissors footrace to organise.

The Last Supper

2008-06-23T09:14:00.006-04:00

From time to time, my wife and I find it necessary to take the kids out into the world. You'd think we know by now that no good can come of this. Some trips like the grocery store or doctor's office can't be avoided. Others are optional such as going out to eat in a restaurant.

I remember a time before children when eating at a restaurant was fun and relaxing. Waiting for a table was a minor inconvenience that usually went unnoticed. I only had to worry about what I was going to eat when ordering and if something spilled on me it was generally because of something I did. Then we had kids and all that changed. Every second we have to wait, for a table or food, is an agonizing temptation of fate. Each tick of the clock counting down to the eventual eruption you know is going to happen. By the way, could restaurants put more crap on the tables? My kids aren't entertained enough by the utensils, salt, pepper, cups, saucers, sugar packets, and desert menus. All of which are far more interesting than any crayons. What should be a nice relaxing meal is like some twisted jack in the box full of monkeys on crack, except without that whimsical song to warn us.

We didn't go into this without warnings though. My parents have always been more than happy to tell the story of getting kicked out of a restaurant because of us kids. As they tell it, my sister and I got into an ice throwing battle. I can't imagine how that would have started. Yeah, I'm looking at you Dad. The big problem was that what we lacked in accuracy we more than made up for in distance. The people sitting at the adjacent tables weren't impressed. Just so you don't think my kids get their meal time misfit genes just from me, my wife's parents had some tales or warning. There was the time as a youngster she felt it necessary to tell the waitress, "you're too fat to be a cooker". While everyone was ordering, she shared this observation with the poor lady with increasing volume since no one was acknowledging what she said. Her father, while still ordering and without looking at her, gracefully reached around his young daughter's back and covered her mouth with his hand. (Have to admit I've been tempted to do the same once or twice) That one was handled well but I still don't think I'd trust any food brought to the table after that.

All this brings me to yesterday. It should have been a nice Sunday out to eat. It quickly went downhill. Upon arriving at the restaurant, a big mascot handing balloons was found to be the greeter. As I've mentioned before, my oldest doesn't respond well to people in big costumes like that. She sprinted to the booth, dove in and curled up in the corner. Once told that was the wrong booth, she repeated he Jackie Chan like display to the right spot. She would not get out of the fetal position no matter what. It was so bad that it required leaving and eating somewhere else. As an aside, she was actually so scared that she barricaded her bedroom door with chairs at bedtime. So once arriving at restaurant number two and assuring her repeatedly that mascots weren't allowed in, the actual mealtime fun started. Over the course of dinner, two drinks were spilled, one landing on their uncle, and the youngest threw up after trying a milkshake. This on top of the required fidgeting, grumbling, and crying. At one point their mom asked the waitress to quiet the crying baby at another table because she couldn't hear her own kids yelling and carrying on. A fun time for all indeed.

Overall, I'd call that trip a success though for several reasons. At no point was anyone asked to leave any eateries. The vomiting was minimal and didn't really land on anyone. No one was insulted. No innocent bystanders got pelted with ice. Most importantly, I was working so I wasn't there for any of it. The difference between pull your hair out frustrating and piss yourself funny: location, location, location.

The Seven Dirty Words

2008-06-23T09:03:00.002-04:00

With the passing of George Carlin, we all move up one in the world's ranking of funniest people on the planet. Just glad I got to see him perform live when I had the chance.

The Path To The Promised Land

2008-06-22T12:38:00.006-04:00

Everybody poops. The part they conveniently leave out of that title is that cleaning it up sucks so very much. As some sort of karmic levelling, those wonderful little bundles of joy subject me to cleaning the sorts of messes that would make a coroner gag. And that's just any average number two. It doesn't even take into consideration diaper failures, bath time mishaps, bouts of diarrhea, or mid-diaper change explosive chest splatterings. That last one is funny as hell when it happens to someone else though. There is hope though.

The light at the end of the tunnel. The dream of dreams. The day you pray for from the first moment you get a whiff of a craptastrophe. The day you have a potty trained youngster. I can't overstate this. The day I there was one less stinky bottom I was going to need to clean was one of the greatest days ever. Imagine all the major holidays all rolled up into one, double it and subtract all the crap you have to clean up. It's that good.

Getting there is a pain in the ass though. Looking at it from a child's point of view I can understand the reluctance to use the potty. Here's some big weird device that looks like it has a mouth (thanks Disney for making kids believe all inanimate objects can come to life, it really helps). Now I'm supposed to expose my bottom to this mysterious monster? I don't think so. Besides, I'm not taking time out of my day to stop and do that. I've got walls to colour and electronic equipment to break. Honestly, if you took away the social stigma and the responsibility for cleaning up, who among us wouldn't be tempted to use a diaper?

Despite battling logic, reason, and those bastards at Disney I'm proud to claim success with my oldest in the world of potties. After finally convincing her the toilet was not going to eat her, I got her to try it. That lead to a period of trial and error. She tried to do business and I made the error of believing her when she said she had none. You have any idea how frustrating it is to have her drop a load in her diaper mere minutes after being on the potty? Good, I'd hate to be alone on that one. Next came minor successes and multiple setbacks. Thank goodness kids are pre-programmed to liking candy otherwise I'm not sure what I'd have used to bribe/positively reinforce her with. That's not true as evidenced by the closets, yep plural, full of princess shoes in my house.

Apparently, another good technique is to read the tell tale signs of when your kid has to go. My daughter's subtle hint was when she'd stand red-faced with her arm outstretched and said, "don't say I poop on the potty. Don't say that word to me." Damn it. Thankfully, this has now evolved into "I need to use the potty". I think the power of those words is an untapped resource. Forget steroid or HGH for Olympic sprinters. Just put their kid at the finish line saying those words. Mark my words, world records would fall. I don't have the data to back it up but I'm pretty sure I've run a sub 10 second 100 m to get to the nearest potty.

So now that I've got one potty trained child, it's time to work on the little one. Having her around during potty time is a big help and gives her a behaviour to model. A little reinforcement on my part and it should be a breeze. "You know your mom and I love you both equally. It doesn't matter to us if your sister uses the potty and you don't. However, I don't think Santa shares our viewpoint. You know he's got those naughty and nice lists so he's obviously pretty judgemental. I can only imagine using the potty is definitely worth a lot of points towards that nice list." Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night.

What To Wear

2008-06-21T12:32:00.005-04:00

When it comes to dressing the kids there are several things to take into account. Does this shirt go with those pants? Is it too cold for a skirt? Should I dress them in layers in case it gets warmer later? Does this outfit go well with her sister's? Is what they're wearing appropriate for where we're going today? And how cute do they look? It's enough to drive a dad nuts.

That's why when I dress the kids I ask the same two questions I ask when I dress myself. Is it clean? Does it fit? And just so we're clear, these are not yes and no questions. There's a wide of spectrum of answers that can lead to follow up questions. Questions like, can this stain pass as a pattern, should I cover it up, and it's a bit small but is anyone going to see anything they shouldn't? Using this system, it takes me about 4 minutes to get ready in the morning, 5 if I brush my hair. It hasn't made dressing the girls that efficient yet but it helps.

Generally, when I'm getting them dressed it's because we're in a hurry to go somewhere. The big one is freaking out about what she wants to wear and the little one has decided now is the right time to poop. The dog is jumping around because he thinks he's coming with us while I scramble trying to find their clothes, which I contend have the ability to move about the house under its own power. Heaven forbid they should need socks. Those things are so small there's no way I'm going to find them, let alone two that match. In the middle of this whirlwind I consider the fact they have anything on when we leave the house a victory.

When they're babies it's all so simple. People give you all sorts of baby clothes so there's plenty of choice. Even better is the fact that most of the clothes is one piece, whoever invented the onesy is a friggin' genius. But that doesn't last long because they grow quick. Those blessed onesies become obsolete and you're left trying to find something for them to wear. And heaven forbid you make some bad choices, you'll never hear the end of it. You take the little Velcro strap you used to attach the garland to the banister at Christmas and thread it through the belt loops of your daughter's pants so they won't fall down and you get labelled. Everyone at playgroup thinks they're so smart because they can tell whether I was the one who dressed the kids that morning.

So what's the solution? Personally, I think this is one the Amish have gotten right. You know how an Amish parent dresses their kids in the morning? "Let's see, you have a penis? Nope, ok here's your gingham dress and bonnet. Now we can get on with our day." How beautifully simple is that? If they can just come up with a good video game system I'll seriously think about joining. Until then, I think I'll abdicate the responsibility of dressing them and let them pick out their own clothes. You want to wear a pajama shirt, poofy skirt, rubber boots, cowboy hat and feather boa? Fine with me, let's go pick your mom up from work.

They Don't Like When You Grab Their Tails

2008-06-20T10:23:00.003-04:00

I have an 18 month old who has no fear. Well that's not entirely true; she's not quite 18 months old and has very little fear. She's a bit leery of strangers, women more so than men but don't even get me started on that. It certainly doesn't compare to her older sister's irrational fear of mascots or anyone wearing a big costume. Now that I think of it though the existence of a six and a half foot tall monkey or alligator that walks on two legs and gives people hugs is pretty irrational to begin with so maybe she's actually smarter than I'm giving her credit for. Either way, exploiting it works to my advantage. "We can't go to Toys 'R Us today, there's going to be a bunch of mascots there today." Don't judge me, it just makes life easier sometimes.

Back to little miss no fear, her favourite new game is a perfect example of what I'm talking about. She loves to jump off just about anything. And I do mean anything, tables, chairs, couches, stairs, slides, and so on. If she can climb it, she will jump from it. She does so secure in the belief she will be caught. It's very sweet that she has so much faith in me the she interprets any eye contact to mean "go ahead, I'm ready to catch you now". Also nice that she doesn't hold any grudges if I miss. I have no idea how she got that coffee table shaped bruise on her head.
The troubling part is that the bumps and bruises don't deter her. She just seems to think it'll turn out better next time. Couple that with her trying to keep up with her big sister and we've got the recipe for some trouble in the future.

To further fan the flames of my concern I thought back about myself as a kid. There was the time I when I was about 7 and had a great idea after watching Zorro. There was a scene where he swung from a chandelier while fighting the bad guys. Conveniently located right there in the room with me was a remarkably similar one just dangling from the ceiling as if to say you know you have to try. So after moving an armchair over so I could reach I grabbed on and swung from it. I can only assume the folks who installed Zorro's chandelier had a different set of building codes they needed to follow than the ones in place in our neighbourhood. While his had no problem supporting a full grown man, ours responded to my 50 lbs or so by detaching from the ceiling. Luckily, it didn't crash to the floor. The same can't be said for me.

Now you'd think I'd learn from that experience. Not long after though I was watching Wonder Woman, saw her flip over a fence and thought "I can do that". It's not as gay as it sounds, I had on Batman underoos at the time. Some more furniture rearranging to put some cushions on the ground, guess I'd at least learn to take some safety precautions. I got up on the couch leaned forward and flipped. I should say I tried to. I basically jumped in the air and landed on the back of my head. It now occurs to me that if they'd had Jackass when I was a kid I'm not sure I'd be here today. I also wondered after those stories if it's genetics that's at play with my little daredevil. A conversation I had with my dad not long ago didn't help.

My dad lives in Louisiana and has a backyard that borders a swamp. We were just talking and he actually said to me "You know the gators don't like it when you grab their tails". Uh oh. I think most reasonable people operate under the assumption that alligators don't like having their tails grabbed. Thanks to my dad though I can confirm that. I told my sister about this conversation and her response was "Yeah, they got really mad at us". Oh crap, it's worse than I thought. The really sad part is I was kind of jealous I missed out on the fun. I guess deep down I'm still that kid in his underoos with questionable judgement. I know when I see a neighbour kid climbing a tree because he want to "bungee jump" out of it with an extension cord I should be the responsible adult and tell him it's not a good idea. Truth is I'm actually thinking "I really want to see how this turns out".

When it's your own kids though responsibility has to win out, I hope. Whether it's genetics that makes her think jumping is the logical next step after climbing or the environment she's raised in isn't really important. It's just important I do what I can to catch her because despite my best efforts, or maybe because of them, it looks like she's destined to put on her underoos, flip from a chandelier, and grab a gator by the tail. How thrilled do you think her mom is?

Why Aren't We Cartoons?

2008-06-19T12:31:00.005-04:00

Children are wonderful and amazing. Their bright curious eyes full of wonder about the world around them. Their cheery laughs are the pure personification of joy and innocence. The unconditional love they give you just seems to make everything right. But sometimes, don't you just want to smack them?Now I'm not condoning child abuse, it's one of the most reprehensible things a person can do, but there I times I understand it. In the middle of a giant tantrum full of irrational screaming and crying I don't think I'm the only out there who's been tempted.

Dealing with a child having a tantrum is like dealing with some sort of terrorist group. Their actions seem incredibly extreme and do nothing to further their cause. You know you can't give into them or you'll be totally screwed in the future. And odds are you're going to need some sort of translator because you can't understand a word they're saying.

Few things are quite as frustrating as trying to reason with an irrational little scream machine. The circular arguments, lack of logic, and freak-outs that seem to come out of nowhere would push anyone to the breaking point. To compound matters, as a parent you're only supposed to use diplomatic measures to achieve the desired goal. Timeout is about the most sever weapon in our arsenal. It'd be kind of nice to have another bullet in the chamber. The problem there is if you claim you do by threatening them with corporal punishment eventually they're going to call your bluff and prove that bullet was just a blank.

My solution is there should be a service where you can hire a tiny stuntman to smack around a little. Smack around another "little kid" in their presence and then see how quickly they get in line. "Oh, you think I'm bluffing? Go ask that little bastard if I'm serious. Now put the toy back on the shelf and let's get going." I think that's a market just waiting to be tapped. It's also how I plan to handle dating when my girls become teenagers. I'm going to hire a stuntman to come by so I can beat the crap out of him just as the boy shows up for their date. Fight choreographer, breakaway chair, candy glass window to throw him through; it's going to be awesome. But I digress.

Ultimately, we're left with the knowledge that kids are like some crazy bipolar roller coaster ride. Actually, more like a crazy bipolar roller coaster ride full of monkeys. At least there's some reassurance in the knowledge that as quick they can ruin your day by freaking out and not understanding why they can't wear a sundress outside in winter, they can turn around and brighten it by asking something like "Why aren't we cartoons?" Does raise the larger question, why aren't we cartoons?

Differing Parental Viewpoints

2008-06-18T02:02:00.006-04:00

My wife comes home from work one afternoon and is greeted at the door by the kids. Within moments she asks me why I cut the oldest's bangs. I wasn't the one responsible for the haircut. I didn't notice the haircut. I don't usually notice much about her hair to begin with. By the way, did you know that girls need their hair brushed everyday? Apparently, it turns into some giant tangle of Griswoldian Christmas light proportions if left unattended.

Like I was saying though, I told her no one had cut her hair. Not satisfied with that response she turned and asked, "who cut your hair?"

Without hesitation came her answer, "I did."

"Why did you cut it?"

"The hair was in my eyes."

"How did you cut it?"

"I used scissors"

Not wanting to flat out call our three year old a liar I asked her to show us where the scissors were. She didn't want to at first but once assured she wasn't in trouble she led us to table beside the couch. She moved aside a book and underneath were a great big pair of scissors. Thus verifying her story and leaving only two possible reactions to the situation.

I was impressed at the logic she used in creatively solving the problem of her hair getting in her eyes. I marvelled at the fact she possessed the dexterity to work such a large pair of scissor without hurting herself. I was proud she was responsible enough to realise the scissors were dangerous and hid them under a book so her little sister didn't get them. Her level of maturity in so many areas blew me away.

My wife's reaction, "I think the kids need more adult supervision."

I guess it's true what they say. One person's idea of an open-ended opportunity for personal growth through independent problem solving is another person's idea of reckless negligence.

Fucks 'N Shakes

2008-06-17T08:26:00.000-04:00

So with a title like that you're probably under the impression this is going to be about one of three things.

A discussion about how some with a severe seizure disorder procreates.
A list of rejected named for panda couples at your local zoo.
A summary of the short lived Fox sitcom about two of the lesser known dwarfs, one a sexaholic and the other a recovering heroine addict. I'll pause while you IMDB that one.

All reasonable assumptions but this is actually a cautionary tale about watching what you say around your kids. While parenting the other day, I heard some grumbling coming from the stairs. I went to investigate and as I got closer I thought I heard my cute little three year old saying "Fucks 'n shakes". When I got to her she was struggling to get her shoes off and repeatedly saying "Fucks 'n shakes".

I asked, hoping I was misinterpreting what she'd said, "what are you saying?"

With an expression that can only be described as pride, she answered, "fucks 'n shakes, like you say."

I thought about it for a moment before I realised she must have heard me say "For fuck sakes", on more than one occasion I imagine, and figured that's what you say when you're frustrated. So as a role model I feel a bit deficient. As a parent though, I can take pride in the fact she understood the proper context to use the phrase and that if she keeps going at this pace she'll be cursing at a fourth or fifth grade level by the time she starts school. It's not an actual course in school but a skill we all need to have eventually.