Season’s Greetings!

Spring is in full swing and temperatures here in Virginia have warmed up as we hit the eighties over the weekend. Our yard had transformed from brown and bare to rich and green with colorful blooms and I was itching to get out and wake up my lawnmower from its hibernation.

But wait. Why is that ice cream truck playing Christmas music?

That's right. I was in shorts, having just finished mowing the lawn when I heard it. I shielded my eyes from the blizzard of swirling pollen to see that yes, it was in fact an ice cream truck. A dingy green sinister-looking wreck of a van that couldn't pass a farm use inspection and may even be in violation of the Geneva Convention. But it's that creepy polyphonic blast of Silent Night that had me worried.

It's just as well I suppose, because if there's one thing I've noticed about having a toddler in the house (besides having a shirtless guy shouting at me all the time), it's that Christmas....just....never....ends.

Call it the gift that keeps on giving. And while it's bad enough that my neighbor won't remove that plastic poinsettia from her flagpole (despite my desperate offerings to help), or that I'm still finding wind strewn ornaments caught in bushes after decorating the Cypress trees for the holidays, it's what's happening indoors that has me shouting Bah Humbug!

Let me explain. Over the holidays my son commandeered our neighbor’s old toy choo choo train. It was really sweet of her, our neighbor, to let my two year old get his grubby hands on it. It has a track and some cars and it plays merry little Christmas songs as it chugs along headed for the North Pole.

Cute, right?

No. For the love of ice cream the Christmas Express is still chugging along. It's a little worn and wrecked and it chuffs along in a wounded, wobbling way after one too many plunges off the coffee table, but on it goes. And goes....

I remember putting it up sometime in mid-January. You know, when I naively thought that we were kind of done with the whole Christmas thing. Ah yes, the days before I was aware that were raising a real life Buddy the Elf. Those were good times, But then Spring Break happened, when I came home and found the old Chrismas Express charging away with merriment, it’s tired batteries giving it’s song a warbled tilt that rivals the ice cream truck for creepiness supremacy.

Oh and the books. Frosty the Snowman, and a slew of others. Now who wants to be the book confiscator and get all Fahrenheit 911 on a little kid trying to read? Not me, so let the yule tide burn, even while the last time I checked we were on the backside of April and should be breaking out the sunblock and the beach towels.

Maybe I'm just being a grinch here. Perhaps tonight we'll have some egg nogg and go out caroling. Then maybe we'll stop for ice cream? Or even better it will stop for us! I need to get into the spirit, sing with me now...

Have a Holly-Jolly Christmas...It's the best time of the year....

Hey...I'm A Real Live Parent!

First let me start by saying I've completely become that parent who used to annoy me so much. You know the ones. Big goofs who overly dote on their kid?

Check. Or how about the ones who post their kid's finger paintings? 

Check. What about the ones who take pictures of every. Little. Thing?

Check. Check. And to whom do I make out the check?

And now with the new school year upon us, my wife, the teacher, the maker of dinners and tamer of wild men and boys, was busy last night meeting parents and kids. Yes, it's that time again. Time to usher in another wonderful first week of school. (Okay, I put a spin on that, her classroom is currently without air conditioning and twelve hour days are kind of a bummer.) But never to fear. As  I'm the do-it-all kind of parent that I claim to be, I was up for the task, and came out to pick up our son after work. 

I entered the school to a circus of animated kids and exhausted parents roaming the halls. I nodded to administrators and teachers, all of whom seemed a little bewildered at the thought of another whole year of school. Making my way through the debris of checklists and guidlines, I found my son tucked away from the disarray and thankfully out of harm's way.

Simon was in Mommy's classroom, content and quiet, coloring at the table while parents filled out forms at the desk. Oh, and when I say coloring, I mean tattooing himself with Crayola markers, both arms were inked up to the elbow. But then he looked up and smiled, I felt my knees get a little weak when he let go with a big old "Daaadeee!"

You know those parents who really, really can't believe how fast their kid is growing up? 

Check.

It was Daddy to the rescue. And with Mom up to her eyeballs with parents and forms and, well, chaos, I scooped up the kid and we got out of dodge. 

First stop was the grocery store, where I we got just the necessities. Bread and Ice Cream. Okay we got apples too, but I quickly realized that we needed to hurry. I tried keeping him in the cart, but he wanted out and let the whole store know about it. And I don’t have little tricks or snacks in my purse to keep him occupied. I don’t even have a purse.

At home, we got busy with manly activities. Well, after we did the dishes--his idea. If my kid loves two things, it’s a vacuum and the sink. Well, maybe three things, because you should have seen his little face light up when he assisted me with some small projects around the house, fixing those rickety old chairs in the dining room—which involved the drill.

Playing around the house, things were moving quickly. It was already dinnertime. I took the easy route. PB & J, and then sat back and watched him destroy it, nearly losing a finger in the process. As he ate, I thought back to those times when it was just my dad and me. Cue flashback music...

When my dad was in charge of dinner, it usually involved grilled cheese and the fire alarm. He could also do eggs, sorta, just nothing fancy. But what I enjoyed most during those times was the great conversations we’d have over dessert. 

I’m kidding, we just stuffed our faces.

But I do remember how Dad fixed dessert, vanilla ice cream with hot chocolate syrup. Popping the can open, (yes, can), he'd warm it on the stove. Then we’d sit down at the table with our two bowls of vanilla ice cream, and drizzle the steaming Hershey’s syrup over our heaping mounds of ice cream. Sugary madness.

And that's what I had in mind when I grabbed the plastic container of syrup and nuked it for thirty seconds. (Don’t worry, he just had plain old vanilla). And for the next five minutes, the house settled into a delicious, lip-smacking silence. 

The rest of the night was standard fare—vacuum time, a little outside time, then bath time. We had a lot of fun, and I realized that at some point I have become a real, live parent. And that just about blows my mind. 

After bath, I got the little guy all cleaned up and in pajamas, snuggling up on me as we read Curious George until Mom came home and scooped him up for herself. I handed him over with a smile, because I'd held the fort down and every thing was running on schedule. At least until this morning, when my wife noticed that the kitchen was covered in chocolate.

Product Review - My Son – 2013 Edition

For this product review, we’ll take a look at my brand new baby boy.  Without prior baby experience, I readied myself for being a dad by reading the books and listening to advice from others with children. While the advice was helpful, I found that some things I had to learn on my own, as nothing can fully prepare one for parenthood.  But I'm happy to report that after four and a half months of daily (and nightly) use, our son is getting stronger by the minute and shows no signs of wear, which is good because I have yet to find an instruction manual or any sort of warranty. 

We received our 2013 edition human a week early.  Pick up was a mess.  Labor intensive and hands on to say the least. He arrived in a whir of chaos and fluids with a boisterous wail that left both mother and father gasping for air.  But after the traumatic start, things have settled down and are normal...the new normal anyway.

The decision to have a baby is not one to be taken lightly.  Sleep, money, spare time, and at times, sanity will have to be managed in effort to survive.  And there are no returns; posting on Craigslist is frowned upon. Anyway, here are some pros and cons I have found at this stage of fatherhood.

The Pros:

• He’s exceeded customer expectations up to this point.  We couldn’t be more pleased in terms of product reliability and satisfaction.
• Assembly was a breeze - for me.  My wife however, had quite the time. Nearly ten months from start to finish.  Sometimes I thought the day would never come.  But my wife is a perfectionist and she did a bang up job with him.
• Healthy and happy.  He’s adapted to the transition of life on the outside with little or no complications, which is good because when we brought him home, I had no idea what to feed him.  Luckily my wife took the reigns and it all worked out.
• His laughter has healing effects.  Arriving home from work, I can feel the day’s problems melting away at the sound of his squealing and laughing.

The Cons

• Can become fussy.  When he becomes tired he becomes fussy.  Hungry?  Fussy.  Gassy?  Smelly and fussy... 
• Messy.  Opening those diapers, I often find myself mumbling No whammies, No whammies, No whammies…Mine also drools a lot.
• He still cannot walk.  My dog was walking within days of being born.  My child?  Not even a crawl.
• $$$$$ Very expensive –Perhaps even more so than previous models. 

Overall, our 2013 edition human is an excellent product and well worth the investment for those willing to put in the work.  Cost can be staggering, but the rewards are plentiful.  He's a life-changer, and I look forward to everyday spent with him.  In closing I would say that the greatest thing about my brand new son is his smile, there’s nothing in this world that can compare.  Two thumbs up from this reviewer.

 



I highly recommend this product...



Hard Work

Air Guitar!

You know, this parenting thing is hard.  Don’t get me wrong, it’s incredible too.  It’s a blur of amazing, exhausting, demanding, and rewarding all at the same time.

One minute I’m holding a sleeping ball of love in my arms, feeling good about myself and the whole daddy thing, while the next moment I’m cringing as the ear piercing screams resume and I come under attack by tiny hands with sharp little claws.  What happened to my life?

The past seven weeks have been a challenge that has tested our levels of endurance beyond anything I imagined, and I have found patience and strength that I didn't know existed.  But I can’t take the credit, it’s Mom that’s been amazing.  She has held this operation together through it all with a mixture that is one part motherly instinct, one part gritty determination, and two part boobs.  It hasn’t exactly been a couple’s retreat at our house for the past two months, but words cannot describe the love and respect I feel for my wife. 

We were warned of the late nights, the diaper changes, the crying, the zombie-like nighttime wandering, and the feeling of waking up exhausted in the mornings.  But it cannot be fully understood until experienced firsthand.

The last couple of nights have been especially trying. As my wife put it, it seemed our baby was abducted by aliens. He’s doing much better today, and I’m sure there will be many more rough patches in the future, but we’ll get through it, we don't have a choice...  

On a high note, Daddy did get his first smile yesterday.  A real smile too, I’ve learned the difference between a I’m just crapping my pants and a hey dad smile. It makes it all worthwhile.

But one thing is for certain, this little guy is going to be an only child!

Worth it All...

Quiet Time

It’s Sunday evening.  The sun is just beginning to set, its orange rays sift in through the blinds, leaving distinct shadows on the wall.  The dogs are asleep, tuckered out from their morning run in the woods.  I’m in the recliner, enjoying the rhythmic sounds of the house.

The breast pump whines softly, humming in harmonic melody with the baby swing.  Together they perform what has become the soundtrack to my weekends. 

I'm enjoying quiet time these days like I never imagined.  Bits and pieces of rest when the elements of our house align and nap times coincide.  Animals and baby, completely asleep.  These precious moments are as rare as they are short.

This is usually when someone knocks on the door, and bedlam ensues.  The dogs begin their riot, barking furiously and aimlessly in all directions, ready to defend the baby against threats such as gift bearing neighbors or elderly couples on an evening stroll.

I scream at the dogs in a whisper that would make a librarian blush.  But it’s of no use, the baby is awake, and he suddenly remembers that he really, really, wants to eat.  He wants a boob in his mouth yesterday, and I run around trying to restore order, but it's no use, the moment is over.

I'm reminded of a childhood memory.

When I was around 9, my parents used to have what was referred to as coffee time.  Twenty to thirty minutes after dinner in the seclusion of the den.  I would wait by the door, watching the clock on the microwave with torturous anticipation.  Finally, they would come out, relaxed and refreshed until I would hit my dad with a barrage of questions I had thought of during my idle time alone.

As a child, I had no idea why they would want to spend time away from the kids, (or maybe just me, as I seemed to be the only one lying on the floor next to the door).  But now I get it.  They needed a moment to themselves, to unwind after a long day and enjoy each other's company...away from the hyperactive ball of annoying awaiting them on the other side.  And who could blame them? I'm tired just thinking about my younger self.

So chalk another one up for parents….the older I get the righter they were…

Protective Custody

I was born in the seventies. Back when asbestos were eaten as a snack, served with a side of lead paint chips.  Black mold was a wall pattern, and a child learned the hard way not to play around the kerosene heater. 

We played with rocks and sticks, in creeks with dirt and mud.  Our playgrounds were merely large jagged shards of rust and our big wheels had built in ash trays. It was a different time, when a car seat was a lap, and seat belts were something you found while looking for spare change.

And yet most of us made it, wearing our scabs proudly and comparing our scars as we swapped stories involving barbed wire, nails, and on more than one occasion, bb guns.  But now I'm a Dad, and everything has changed...

Maybe it comes with being a first time parent, but I can’t help being an overprotective dad.  I want to line the wall of the house with bubble wrap. I want to banish all pointy edges and sharp corners.  Suddenly everything needs to be rounder, softer, safer.

My wife has taken to calling me Marlin, the coddling parent from Finding Nemo.  But what does she know about protecting a child?  Just last night I caught her torturing our son. Well, she called it "bathing" him but I’m not quite sold on the way the whole thing went down.

I’m relentless, even telling my own mother--who has three children and now three grandchildren-- to be careful with him.  As if she would get the sudden urge to punt him like a football.  Visitors have to pass through a rigorous bio decontamination process before clearance to hold him is granted, after which I hover like a hawk, ready to swoop in if things get messy.

I’m sure I’m not the only first time parent who's gone a bit overboard with the safety concerns.  It's just that he’s so fragile, with his newborn smell and little neck that can’t hold his head up.  He has no way of protecting himself from the infinite dangers around him.  But that's okay, he has me. 

Hopefully I'll relax over time.  I certainly can't follow him around all his life, walking in front of him with Clorox wipes and a dust mask, whipping out safety glasses before allowing him to shoot a spit ball at a classmate.  After that I'm holding his hand until college, when things could get really awkward.

Random Thoughts



Layman Farms

We’ve entered week 26, and my wife’s ankles have swollen beyond recognition, I try to remain positive, telling her that no, they really don’t look that bad.  She sleeps with anywhere 4-7 pillow in the bed and the bathroom trips have picked up again, mainly due to the gallons of water she has consumed.

But somehow, she has kept her sense of humor intact.  She remains upbeat and positive and keeps me laughing through it all, which is more than I could say if the tables were turned.

On the way home from work a few days ago, she stopped at the grocery store to “pick up a few things”.  She arrived home a half an hour later with three or four bags full of the most random contents on the shelves, it looked as if she had swapped grocery lists with Rain Man.

“I thought you were just picking up a few things?”  I said to her, confused as I searched the contents of her bags.

“Pregnant and hungry is no way to go to the grocery store.”  She mumbled through a mouthful of triscuits.

And on that note, here are some random thoughts from the week:

We ventured out into the shopping mall last Saturday and I immediately noticed that I’ve fallen into no man’s land as far as age groups are concerned at the mall.  You’re either a teenager, an employee, or retired. There seems to be no middle ground.  I felt like Michael Doulgas’ character from the movie Falling Down as I stared at the teenagers who wore fashions I couldn’t comprehend. 

The other night my wife and I were on the couch (Her feet in my lap of course) when the phone rang.  We looked at each other, puzzled, as if to say Who in the world is calling at this hour?  It was 8:45.

Child care is seriously expensive.  Who knew?

I would like to say thank you to the soon to be grandparents, Simon is truly going to be one lucky baby.  He will have five Grandparents that all love him dearly, and have sent down very nice furniture for his room, which by the way, is quickly becoming the nicest in the house.

Why do girls in their 20’s and 30’s still refer to themselves as princesses? There is no reason for you to wear a tiara in your cubicle. Ditto for Barbies.  Maybe it’s just me..

When we were at the corn maze last weekend, I found myself checking out the strollers, comparing the styles and models.  I found myself checking out strollers...Five years ago me called, he says wow...

I’ve also found myself noticing little kids whenever we’re out, sometimes I'll smile at them without realizing that this could be interpreted the wrong way.  That is until a protective parent comes grabbing their child while scowling at the weirdo in the mall, hanging out near the strollers, berating the girls wearing tiaras.  What has happened to me?

What a day!

Yesterday my wife and I went for our scheduled check up to find out what exactly is in my wife's stomach. We had been looking forward to finding out, but I hadn't given much thought to the overall picture.  As the lights dimmed and we began, I became overwhelmed with worry.

My wife sensed my nervousness, squeezing my hand and asking if I was okay, I nodded furiously, not taking my eyes off of the screen. The fuzzy image appeared and I stared at the monitor while the tech marked and measured, holding my breath until hearing the words I needed to hear... That looks good.  I saw an arm, another arm, then two legs, and some toes.  How does the spine look? How's the heart? And then the moment of truth,  There's no doubt that it's a boy.

We watched as he bounced around, laughing as it appeared he had come down with the hiccups.  He put on a great show, kicking his feet and holding up his little fist for us to see. I would have been just fine with a girl, as all I hope for is health at this stage, but a boy is something extra special for me as I've always had a special bond with my dad. I will try my best to duplicate that with my son.

Until yesterday, I'd never felt the love that a parent has for their child, and words cannot fully explain what I experienced.  Father knows little indeed, as I wasn't prepared for the foreign feeling that came over me in that room. After the ultrasound, I buzzed around the health center as I had worked myself up into a mess, pacing and unable to sit still, elated that everything was normal.   Afterwards, it was time to celebrate, we went out and bought a couple of outfits for him and I didn't even complain about the shopping.  But my day of first wasn't over, later that night as we lay in bed, I just happened to put my hand on my wife's stomach and I felt him kick.  As faint as it was, I felt his little thrust on the palm of my hand. I jerked my head up to look at my wife.  Did you feel that? she asked.  Yep, I'm feeling a lot of things...

Aww Snap!

Unlike when I was a kid, today it is so easy to snap pictures and share them with family.  While my parents had to get film, flashes, take a picture and hope for the best, hike seven miles in a snow storm to get the film developed and then bring duplicates to the next family gathering, today it’s as simple as whipping out your phone, clicking a button and then sharing on facebook.  In five seconds you’re done.

Because it’s so easy, I’ve watched parents as they document any and everything their little ones do.  The baby blinked his eyes!  Click.  First burp! Click.  His right foot moved!  Click.  And so on. 

As they get older it continues to the point where there is a backup server in Arizona solely dedicated to house the storage of the digital photos of the child’s first three years. There are pictures of pictures, pictures of others taking pictures, pictures of pictures of others taki---you get the point, there are a lot of pictures.

But now it has happened to me.  I’m going to be a dad and I will be that guy.  I have no doubts that I will go picture crazy because that’s what parents do.  I'll be that guy at work, phone in hand showing off pictures to anyone who will listen.  I will plaster the walls with pictures of the baby, baby coffee mugs, t-shirts and air fresheners, okay, I won't go that far, no air fresheners....but I just might snap a few pics at our next ultrasound.

Pushover...

How could you let this happen?

My grandfather had a deep baritone voice that stopped you in your tracks. If he was upset with you, there was no question about what you had done. There was no Who me? routine.  You knew and you regretted it immediately.

My dad wasn't the strictest parent by any means, but I always knew when I had crossed the line. If he was upset, then chances are I had messed up pretty good.

Maybe the men in my family soften each generation. Maybe there was too much talk about feelings in the eighties.  Regardless, if I have a son he's well on his way to becoming a marshmallow by the time I get through with him. I have got to learn to say no. 

If we're judging by how I discipline my dogs I don't stand a chance. I'm not saying I'm a push over, I'm saying that I've been shoved down a cliff and covered with mud. I need to toughen up, and quick.  Perhaps I should lock myself in the house one Saturday and watch John Wayne movies or check to see if Patton is streaming on Netflix, because I'm downright ridiculous.

For example, our dog Bruce was well overdue for a bath the other day. Bruce, the dog my wife calls Brucie Woosie Head, which of course, I allow.  We gave Woosie, I mean Bruce a bath, which is always traumatic for him, but he had been long enough without to the point he had begun to get that just rolled in poop smell that he works so hard to acquire.

Anyway, as we turned on the hose and began to give him a good soaking, he looked up with those sad Precious Moments eyes and I started to hear that Sara McLachian song from the SPCA commercial in my head.  I held firm, he needed a bath and a bath he was going to get.

As I fought through it, telling myself to toughen up, we locked eyes again. Okay, okay, rinse him off! I told my wife, We're killing him, I can't take it anymore!!! Rinse him off! Get it off him!  I screamed as if he was covered in Agent Orange.

We rinsed him off, making sure the painful soap was thoroughly rinsed.No harm done.  I walked towards the house to turn the hose off, looking back at my dog who was rolling around in the grass, with a bone in his mouth looking happier than ever.  Yeah, I don't stand a chance...