I Should Know Better By Now

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?

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

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

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

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

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

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.