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Uncle Faldo

March 9, 2012 //
3

Worm’s got an uncle in Florida. A nice uncle. An uncle that will bestow upon him all the latest gadgets and gizmos that his generation will fawn over.  I have a strong feeling that this uncle (let’s call him Faldo to protect his innocence, if he’s got any left) will be the go to guy when Worm wants something and mean Mommy and unreasonable Daddy won’t buy it.

Uncle Faldo loves his nephew from afar, which means he expresses his affection mainly in gifts.  At least for now, the Worm’s too young to understand where gifts come from.  But when he realizes that uncle Faldo has the power of a year-round St. Nick and can be reached instantly via phone rather than snail mail, trouble (for Steph and I) will surely come.  (I can just hear it now…”But Dad, all the cool kids at school got one!  You suck!  I want to go live with uncle Faldo!”)

Enter the first of Uncle Faldo’s generous presents…the VTech Alphabet Train.  It’s so big, it may need a parking space in the garage.

Chicks Dig a Nice Set of Wheels!

 

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Caged Like An Animal…The Introduction

March 8, 2012 //
3

I’m no child psychology expert, but don’t let that deter you from believing anything I say.  Confining children helps them in later life.  It lets them learn about boundaries and barriers.  It teaches kids that the best way to encourage good behavior is to separate them from a negative environment.  (Isn’t that what prison does? Positive space = jail.  Negative space = world.)

Building barriers quells the human desire to see what is on the “other” side.  For example, let’s suppose we have a barrier (in this case, a liquor cabinet) protecting the parents’ best rums (such as Zacapa, Anniversario, Orinoco, Gosling’s Black Seal).  We  know that keeping the liquor inside the cabinet insures that the child will lose their curiosity about the liquor cabinet and not invite their friends over when you’re not home and partake in the spirits and then refill the bottles back to the marked lines with water.  It’s all because of the barrier between child and liquor.  So, in that same frame of mind,  we’ve got a baby cage barrier for Gavin!

He’s a curious little bugger and I am lazy can’t keep my eyes on him all the time.  With all of his mobility and sleight of hand, he catches me off guard.  And I’ve got to race over to wherever he is to save him from chewing up power cords, eating magazine covers, and throwing remote controls.  Plus, there are things in the living room that can seriously hurt him…like unpausing my PS3 game controller and pushing the buttons.  (Ok, that’s me hurting him.  But, the end result is the same. Pain!)

To keep prying fingers out of electrical sockets, mouse traps and open bleach containers, we hope the baby jail will prove to be a formidable obstacle.

Check it out!

Caged Animal Behavior - Pacing

Caged Animal Behavior - Feeling Threatened

Caged Animal Behavior - Attack Mode

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I Crushed His Will…

March 6, 2012 //
0

But, it wasn’t as satisfying as I thought it would be.  In fact, I was crushed too.

Worm has a way of telling us what he wants.  He points (somewhat close to the object he wants) and says “Ah!”  If it’s food, Worm’s mouth cranks wide open to help us translate the babble.  And if we don’t tickle his fancy, the “Ah!” sound gets louder and more shrill.  I’m not saying that we always give him what he wants, but if given a choice between a whining baby and a smiling baby, we seldom choose the former.

So, last night the Worm was eating some cheezy poofs (organic broccoli and cheese, of course) in his high chair.  The poofs were spread around his eating table in orderly baby fashion.  Since I love playing around with Worm, I decided to give him the “sign” that I wanted a cheezy poof.  I pointed at the poof and went “Ah!” and I opened my mouth so he could feed me.  Thinking that he would understand my baby lingo, I waited for my boca grande to enter supreme cheezy poofiness.  Nothing.

I'm Never Wearing This Shirt Again! Where's My "Just Like Mommy" Shirt?

Then I see Worm look at me as he’s never looked at me before, frightened.  He leaned away from me in his chair, turned his head, and was frozen still.  He didn’t move for about 15 seconds and I watched his little brown eyes turn red and well up with tears.  His little mouth turned down and was trembling.  Then he started sobbing.  Not like the “I want that Tickle Me Elmo Doll now!” sobbing.  It was the classic “My best friend in the whole world is moving away to Alaska and he’ll never survive there as a vegetarian!” kind of sobbing.

I spent the rest of the evening trying to make up with him, chasing him around the room, tickling him and looking for some interaction.  But, I got nothing.  I couldn’t explain to him that maybe my “Ah!” didn’t come out right.  I should have said “Ah!” instead of “Ah!”  Even if he could understand, he wouldn’t hear it.

He didn’t make eye contact with me again that evening.

I’ve got to do the adult thing to get back on his good side.  I’ll have to buy him a bike.

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Jenga – Ages 6 and up? Oh, I See Why.

February 28, 2012 //
0

There are age recommendations for toys.  But why bother?  Either you can play with it, or you can’t.  So, I just toss the recommendations out the window…Well, I used to.

The toy that taught me and Worm a valuable life lesson is Jenga.  It’s mainly a game played (while inebriated) at an event where there’s more casual acquaintances and unknowns rather than friends.  It’s a nice ice breaker type of game.  Since Worm is lacking the traditional social skills of humans (verbal communication, nonverbal communication, emotional control, etc.), we decide that playing Jenga is a major socialization tool to increase his collection of friends at future milk and chicken pox parties.

Mattel states that Jenga is a game for “Ages 6 to adult”.  Personally, I didn’t realize that playing with blocks was conceptually advanced for a baby’s brain to wrap around.  But hey, this is America, where no child is left behind and the bar is set really low for educational pursuits so every child feels good about him or herself because that’s what’s really important in the world, not competition nor the drive to try to be the best you can be.  I digress.

I don’t know how many versions of Jenga are out there, but I’m assuming (which only makes an ass out of U and Ming, poor girl) that every Jenga has the same blocks that get stacked up and removed individually, with the reward of forcing a player to chug a beer or take a shot if one can keep the stack from crumbling to the ground.  When the Worm was presented with his new Jenga game, we allowed him to first try to get the container open.  And this is where I started to reevaluate that “Ages 6 to adult” idea.

Jenga is Dangerous For Children Under 6.

I’m impressed with his enthusiasm for the Jenga container.  But, this time enthusiasm gets the better of Worm.

I Was Appalled at the Animosity Jenga Had Towards My Innocent Child.

At Least He Got One Piece Out of the Container...

So, Jenga has set my son back mentally and emotionally.  He now wets himself, spits up, and cries.  Ok, so he was doing that before, but it seems like more liquid comes out of him now.  I blame it on the Jenga.  Worm will carry the scars of Jenga for the rest of his life all because we didn’t read the label.  Just a word of advice for parents.  Adhere to the age guidelines for toys!

Since I have nothing better to do I may have to start an organization that lobbies for pictures on the labels of toy packages showing the gory images of what happens when parents don’t adhere to the age recommendations (kind of like what the government wants to do with cigarettes).  I don’t want something like this to happen to any other child.  EVER!  Join me in my fight against parents having to read labels!

I have to give myself a point here because unlike Worm, I know how to open the Jenga container.  Besides, he’s still reeling from the trauma of the toy…I’m going to take advantage of him while he’s down!

Gavin – 8; Dad – 5

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No Kisses For Worm Today…

February 16, 2012 //
0

He just doesn’t deserve…to get my sinus infection.  So, I won’t be affectionate with him.  Not today and maybe not for a few days.  It may be a little weird for us both since I spend about half of my day kissing his pudgy chipmunk cheeks and biting his little ears.

I tried to fight it off.  Multiple clients of mine have been sick.  I’m sure I caught it from one of them because I’ve been having some sinus problems going on for a couple of weeks now.  But, now there’s green and red stuff coming out of my orifices.  (Luckily, not those orifices.  I’m talking about my nostrils.)  All in time for Steph and I to go to San Francisco for the weekend.  Yay.

I’m seeing what a detriment to my health fatherhood is.  Even though Worm didn’t get me sick, I can’t take a rest day from him.  And rest is what I need to kick an infection fast.  He just wouldn’t understand me if I said to him “You play over here for an hour or so and then take a nap.  I’m leaving this big bowl of food next to you so you can eat when you’re hungry.  But, watch your portions.  Your onesies are fitting a bit snug in the middle.”  Mini-me doesn’t understand that daddy needs rest and some Playstation time.

So, I’m off to the herb shop I go to find my Chinese herbal formula to help me kick this blasted sinus infection.  (For all the TCM herbalists, it’s a modified Ge Gen Tang for sinuses.  Stiff neck and upper back with green and red phlegm, chills, no sweating, muscle aches and weakness.)

Now, I understand what they mean when they say “you come second and the baby comes first….”  Sniff, sniff.  Right now, I don’t really see fatherhood as a win-win situation.  It’s more like a parasite-host situation.

I would have taken a picture of my nasal bacteria for you, but instead you get poor, pathetic me.

There's no place like home. There's no place like home...

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My Not-So-Patented Double Diaper Technique Works!

February 15, 2012 //
0

It works…in theory.  I never got to try it out.  If you remember from a previous post, I’d been saving the Worm a couple times a day from a butt-clenching 29.5″ altitude.  Gavin wasn’t able to perform the standtosit technique for the past 3 weeks and would get stuck in a standing position screaming bloody murder.  I invented a diaper solution (for the good of all parent-kind) to help cure Worm’s fear of heights, blah, blah blah…(Don’t make me retype the story again, please?  Here’s the link to that post.)  I guess it only took me blogging about his dilemma for him to channel Rocky Balboa (queue up “Gonna Fly Now“.  If this song doesn’t drive you to your full potential as a human being, then your name is Clubber Lang or Ivan Drago.  I digress.) into his little body.

Here is Gavin in just his second attempt ever seen.  From acrophobia to acrobatica, it only took one dismount to master the standtosit technique.  He isn’t even phased anymore.

Just watch the technique.  It’s a one-hand, two-hand, drop.  Style points for that.  He must have learned the 180 knee-spin from watching SYTYCD last season.  Double style points for that pivot.  Oh, and I’m sorry about the high-pitched voice in some of the video.  When I get excited, the schoolgirl cheerleader part of me comes out.

I hesitated about points on this one because I did create the double diaper technique.  But since the Worm beat me to the punch in figuring out how to give in to gravity all by himself, he gets a point.

Gavin – 7; Dad – 4

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Gavin’s Height Fight

February 13, 2012 //
2

Our baby is long for his age.  I guess I can say tall now, because he can stand up.  He’s in the 90th percentile for height (which amounts to nothing more than bragging rights at the playground…for the parent).  Since he’s been skinny and long (tall) for most of his 10 months here, I christened him the Worm.  (It all makes sense now, doesn’t it?)  Though, I’ve recently seen that being tall doesn’t come without problems.

The Worm is crawling a lot these days, building strength in those Michelin man thighs and adding muscle density to his fluffy baby body.  I know muscles are important for the next stage of mobility, walking.  So, we’ve got him on a workout schedule of 2 hours twice a day crawling on the treadmill.  We’ve also added pilates and yoga to his routine.  His nutrition is supplemented (American style) by protein shakes, protein bars, and Gatorade (because it has electrolytes).

Conserving Leg Strength By Hanging On the Railing...Smart Worm. Smart.

With all the extra strength from training, Gavin can now stand up.  (You’re welcome, Worm.)  But, the problem is not in the standing, it’s in the sitting back down.  He doesn’t know how.  Apparently, the incredible altitude of 29.5″ (the 0.5″ makes a huge difference in the percentile rankings…) stiffens the legs, arches the back, and brings out the howling monster in him.  He’s so proud of pulling himself high enough to peer over the coffee table, and his little smile widens with achievement.  But mere minutes after the adrenaline rush fades, he realizes that he can’t get down.  (Maybe he gets altitude sickness.)

So far, I’ve let Worm try (try = cry, scream, shake) for an hour before I help him get back down.  Am I going in too soon to help?  Should I give him an extra hour or two to fatigue his legs enough to drop his derriere to the ground?  Or should I stick out my hand and provide a softer landing spot?  (Screw that last idea. I don’t want to chance breaking a finger or even worse, getting my hand pooped on!)

I’ve even channeled my inner dad voice.  “Worm, all you have to do is reverse the steps to go from standing to sitting.  It’s that simple.  Here.  Let me, your wise teacher, show you what to do.  Just stick out your butt like this…”

Dad, Where Do you Want Me To Drag This Barbell To?

No dice there.  Just more crying and shaking.  (When he’s upset, he just doesn’t listen.  He takes after his mother that way.)

Gavin’s been try-ing the standtosit procedure (sounds official, doesn’t it?) for about 2 weeks solid.  Every day the same thing occurs.  I can’t put him down for a nap in his crib and go watch my soaps, without seeing him in the baby monitor two seconds later upright and gripping the bars, inmate style.  He’s afraid to do the standtosit because he can’t bend his knees and control his backward descent to the ground.  (The 3 pictures shown were taken around the house within about 30 minutes of each other.  Guess who had to save him every time he got stuck?)

Ah, such is the relentless toil of this SAHD…saving the same Worm every day, sometimes multiple times a day…

Now that I’m writing this, I think I may have come up with a solution…double diapers!  (Tebow, I’m so incredibly smart that I amaze myself!)  Just like water wings protect baby from drowning in water, double diapers protect baby from falling on land!  Is that a genius idea or what?

I will double up the diapers on Gavin’s bum!  Twice the diapers must halve the impact!  The poor kid was cursed with his daddy’s boney svelte buttocks and could use a little more “junk in the trunk“, especially in this crash and clumsy stage of infancy.  (I know.  You and I are both thinking silicone butt implants would be the best option, but Steph’s been reluctant to let me add any parts to the baby.  I’ve already asked twice.)

Dad, Could You Bring Me a Chair or a Recliner or Something??

Pampers, if you are reading this, you can add one more type to the 40 different diaper types you confuse us men with.  These shall be called Pampers Crash Pads – Protection For Boney Baby Butts.  Make them twice as thick as regular diapers and make us consumers feel like child abusers if we don’t use them during the crawling/walking transition stage.

I can’t wait to try out my brilliant idea!  Maybe I should mock up a prototype and do some testing before trying my design on a real baby.  Nah, too much work.  What’s the worst that could happen?

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