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Worm, The Photographer

November 15, 2013 //
1

If you recall from a previous post, our family got on a plane a couple of weeks ago to go to the east coast.  Steph and I went to my best buddy’s wedding.  And we dropped the kids off at the grandparents house so that the wedding weekend would be enjoyable for my folks to get some quality time with the kids.

I was planning on taking some really good pictures of our whole trip with my Nikon D70…until some lunkhead dropped my camera directly onto a brick road.  And no, it wasn’t the Worm’s fumbling digits.  (Actually, he’s got excellent dexterity for a 2.5 year old.)  It was my own fault.  I was in a hurry to get out of the car one day and thought my camera was secure in my backpack.  The force of gravity and chaos theory ripped it from my bag and slammed it to the ground.  I was appalled.

I thought I could make do by using my recently upgraded iPhone4 (yes, I’m way behind on phone technology) camera to take kiddie shots until Christmas, when I would ask Santa for a new(er) Nikon.  It took one day to realize that the iPhone4 wouldn’t bring the quality of photos that my blog, and awesome blog readers, deserved.

With the help of an early message to Santa and Mrs. Claus (who look surprisingly like my mom and dad), I was able to get another camera before the holidays.  Thanks mom and dad!

Enter the Nikon D7000. 8 years newer than the D70 and much more feature-rich…

I’m not kidding, this thing is crazy good.

Anyhow, I used to let Worm take pics with my D70.  A few months ago, he showed interest in using the camera, so I let him try.  (I couldn’t stifle the creative juices of possibly the next Ansel Adams).  Plus, it was an inexpensive beginner camera for me.  He held the camera well and understood a few of the button functions.  His photos have been generally more abstract with the subject sometimes not in the picture at all (i.e. carpet fuzz, top half of Smushie’s ear, etc.).  But, I figure that he will get better once he opens his eyes when looking through the viewfinder.

Now that I have the  D7000, I’m not certain that I want Wormie playing with it.  (Read: It’s my toy!!!)  He’s already asking to use it.  Ok, it’s more like “Me have dat!”  So, I’ve got to get him a camera so that he can improve his photog skills and not interfere with mine.  I’ll either have to fix my D70, or buy him a used one.  Because right now, he’s got his eye on my new Nikon.  Besides, I think it would be cool to see what he can do with a camera of his own.  It may give me an opportunity to see a little sliver of the world from his perspective.

Here’s a picture of me letting the Worm hold my new (to me) camera.  It shoots so well, that even a toddler can use it!

I'm Not Sure I Want to Clearly See My Wrinkles...

I’m Not Sure I Want to Clearly See My Wrinkles…

Thanks Mom and Dad for the new camera!  I even got a 3 year kid-proof warranty on it!  I look forward to taking even better pics of your grandbabies with it!

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Categories Random Thoughts

I’ve Been Monitoring the Children the Old-Fashioned Way…

October 7, 2013 //
1

When Steph and I were making a list of baby items we’d get for our firstborn, I had a real problem with the idea of her “need” for a baby monitor.  I didn’t see the point of it.  I had two perfectly functional ears that could listen for any problems that should arise.  Besides, what kind of parent would I be if I didn’t pay attention to my child with ALL of my senses?  Even if he was only sleeping?  I’d be a lazy parent, that’s what I’d be.  So, I argued against it, until the wife yanked my ear and poked me in the eye until I waved the white flag.  I compromised on a simple baby monitor with day and night vision…and happily used it until two weeks ago, when it broke.

Having never experienced life without a baby monitor, I thought it would be a throwback to a simpler time (you know, like the 80’s).  Why wouldn’t my parenting be just as easy without a monitor?  I live in a quiet neighborhood, our walls are paper-thin, and our house is so small that I can touch the front and back door at the same time!  (Ok, not really…but almost!)

It took only an afternoon before I was counting the days for the replacement monitor to arrive in the mail.  I quickly realized that I would contentedly bombard my children’s head with high frequency sine waves in order to know for certain what they were doing behind closed doors.

Here’s what happens in my mind when I’ve got a baby monitor to watch the kids napping:

Nice, time for an episode of Weeds!  Now, I can go sit outside in the sun and breathe dirty diaper free air!  Maybe I should take a nap too?  Facebook, here I come!  Ah, I can relax knowing that the monitor is watching the kids for me…

Here’s what happens in my mind when I don’t have a baby monitor to watch the kids napping:

Duncan!  Frodo!  Stop barking!  I can’t hear the kids!  Should I go sit…What was that noise?  Was that Smush chewing through a crib rail and getting her head stuck and losing consciousness?  I’ll do some dishes…Shit! Did you hear that?  Was that Worm choking on one of the book pages he was trying to eat earlier?  I knew I should have said “No books in the crib!” What if he bit off more than he could chew and is asphyxiating?!  Maybe I can make myself a warm cup of…Holy shit!  Did that sound like one of the kids falling out of the crib and brain hemorrhaging on the floor?  I should go check the mail…Double shit!  What if someone tries to steal my babies at the exact time I’m out checking the mailbox?  And I’m not close enough to hear and rescue them?  Ahhhhh!!!!

It’s stressful living without the baby monitor.  I gave myself about 300 more gray hairs in these past two weeks.  With their bedroom doors closed, (both kids are light sleepers) anything can happen!  Yeah, the chances of anything happening to them while sleeping are minimal, but it doesn’t keep the disturbed active mind from conjuring up crazy thoughts.

I like to be able to see and hear my kids “through the walls”.  (I just really like spying on people…I’m a natural at it.)  This is one piece of existing technology that is a benefit to parents.  I believe that raising two little ones is stressful enough without having to sit in the bedroom hallway with my ears plastered to the kids’ doors every afternoon.

I’ve been monitoring the children the old-fashioned way…and it sucked!  Thank you engineers for inventing radio!  (And thank you professor for showing us how to make a radio using coconuts you found on that deserted island!)

Honeydaddy, How About We Watch You Take a Nap?

Honeydaddy, How About We Watch You Take a Nap?

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Can’t You See I’m Sick? Thanks For Sharing, Worm…

October 1, 2013 //
0

Thank you for the gnarly cold and sinus infection, Worm.  I appreciate it.  You think that your nose is a slow drip juice machine for you to replenish your fluids when you’re thirsty.  Well (and I’m sure this is going to surprise you), as you get older, the fluids won’t drip from your nose (unless you’re sick) and you’re going to have to hydrate with water (or when we’ve contaminated all the water on earth, Coca-cola).

The first 5 on the list pertain to when you are sick, Worm.  The last 5 pertain to when you’ve beaten down my immune system by depriving me of sleep and inundating my orifices with your infected hands, feet, toys, and food.

  1. Green phlegm is not the most awesome thing to exit your body.  It’s not Jell-O.  And no, I don’t want to see it up close.
  2. When you’re not feeling well, I don’t mind cuddling with you…if you don’t mind me scrubbing you down with Lysol wipes first.
  3. The sad puppy dog face does not work when there’s a wet booger stretched between your nose and your ear.
  4. The back of your sister’s head is not the generally accepted definition of a ‘baby wipe’, although your interpretation of the term is a correct one.
  5. When you’ve managed to put your hands in/around your nose, mouth, and dirty diaper, I’m not really interested in seeing, smelling, touching, or tasting your finger(s).  (This applies to both when you’re sick AND when you’re well!)
  6. When you’ve gotten me sick, my answer to pretty much all of your questions is “No, I want to lay down and take a nap.”
  7. When I’m sick, having you jump on my stomach just isn’t the same amount of fun.  (Can’t you tell the difference between me wincing in pain and laughing?)
  8. When I’m sick, I don’t want to exert myself.  So don’t ask me to pull the friggin’ wagon with you, sissy and all your favorite toys around the block again!
  9. How is it that you get louder when I’m sick?  I promise I can still hear you.  It’s my nose that is plugged, not my ears!
  10. When I’m resting on the couch with my eyes closed, YOU DON’T HAVE TO WAKE ME UP EVERY FIVE MINUTES TO MAKE SURE I’M ALIVE!
Worm, You're So Literal! (You Get That From Your Mother...)

Worm, You’re So Literal! (You Get That From Your Mother…)

Gavin – 28; Honeydaddy – 17 (I can’t seem to win this game!  Worm, you douse me with germs.  You don’t let me rest.  You don’t let me sleep.  And you don’t seem to have any less energy when you’re sick…and you sure as hell don’t have less energy when I’m sick!  Argh!)

 

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Categories Random Thoughts, Uncategorized

What’s Got Two Teeth, a Head of Steel, and Sounds Like Pee Wee Herman?

September 26, 2013 //
1

It’s the one and only Smush!  (BTW, the past couple weeks have sucked.  Worm is still bringing home germs from daycare…this time, I think it’s a stomach bug he gave me.  That or it was last week’s leftover chicken and rice I’ve been eating…God, I hope I don’t poop myself.)

Smushie is showing a strong personality these days.  I thought that she would model herself after her handsome and debonair father (It’s my blog.  I can write anything I want.) since she sees me every day as a larger than life superhero with a dangerous trio of wit, charm, and looks.  But, unfortunately that’s not the case.  She doesn’t even mimic much of her older brother whom she adores.  She’s got her own thing going.

I didn’t quite understand this colloquialism until recently.  But, it’s clear to me now.  My daughter is a pistol.  (I’m at least certain her head is made of metal.)  Let’s break this down.

I don’t have a hard head.  (Although my wife would beg to differ.)  My crown is a modern, thin-walled type that allows for expansion in the odd case I glean something useful from my time here on Earth.  The Smushter’s head is more Neanderthal in nature.  Read dense.  It’s a furry cannonball.  I’ve witnessed Smushie use her noggin to “examine” the antique bookshelf, the coffee table, her baby step stool and the kitchen floor.  Did she succeed?  No.  Did she cry?  Merely a whimper.  Did any of the contact leave a mark?  Nope, not even the corner of the bookshelf!  I thought to cut her myself to verify that she’s human, but I don’t really want to know.  (The mystery is somewhat exciting to me…and I need all the excitement I can get at this stage of my life.)

Smush, just like a gun, is fun and games until her energy gets directed towards something.  The trigger is pulled when something across the room is something she wants to obliterate inspect.  And once it is pulled, she’s unstoppable until she hits her desired target.  She will rip through anything to get at it.  (I’ve stood in her way and almost got my eyes gouged out.  More than once.)  We affectionately call her “Baby Bulldozer” when she’s in the zone and destroying everything in her path from point A to B.

Lastly, there’s a boldness and a brashness to the Smush.  (Pistols ooze boldness and make anyone holding them feel the same way, right?)  She’s got a fearless attitude and isn’t shy about showing us.  She dives off the couch and laughs about it…all while we’re thanking Tebow that we grabbed her in time from yet another neckbreaking dive into the carpet.  (It’s Berber, so it’s not really a crash pad, if you know what I mean.)  Even when we’re paying attention, she boldly smacks her mommy and I in the face during our ‘discussions’.  (We’re slowly getting used to her communication style.  It’s unorthodox, but I’m sure it works well in some management situations.)  Sure, she mercilessly pulls our hair to guide us left or right.  She’s not afraid to yank our hair out when we don’t do what she asks.  I’ve tried reasoning with her that sometimes crying just sounds like crying.  She disagrees.

All in all, we’re amazed at how far our littlest Smushie has come.  There are major differences between she and her brother even in these first 8 months.   I’m in awe that two kids raised in the same environment with similar DNA don’t do a damn thing I say  could be so different from one another and so unruly special.

Smushie, you’re a pistol (and more than occasionally, I think a loose cannon could better define you), and I love you for that!  You’re brave, confident, and dauntless.  Your zest for life is apparent and your unbridled joy is contagious.  At times, you can frustrate the hell out of me but you keep our days interesting (and some nights, as well).  When you put your head mind into something, you do so with every ounce of yourself.  If there’s anything that your fearlessness will show, it’s that you will break down walls in both love and life.  And that will take you very, very far.  We’re lucky to have you!  (There’s a reason why we call you “Double Happiness!”)

Sorry, Smushels. I Keep Forgetting That You're In Charge Now, Not Me!

Sorry, Smushels. I Keep Forgetting That You’re In Charge Now, Not Me!

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Categories Random Thoughts

The Six Letter, Three Syllable Word

September 3, 2013 //
0

Worm, this post is for you.  Your sister doesn’t talk back to me yet and I don’t really want her to model herself later after your current communication style.  Your head’s getting more dense, literally, and unfortunately, figuratively as well.

When I ask you NOT to do something, what I really mean is “Don’t f#*@ing do it!  Or else I’m transferring another dollar out of your college fund and into my rum fund!”  (The return on this fund is better than a treasury bond right now.)  The following responses are unacceptable:

  1. The sideways looking squinty-eyes with half smirk – You look possessed when you do this.  You also remind me of Chucky from the Child’s Play horror flicks.  I know I shouldn’t be afraid of demon children and dolls, but I grew up with those movies and they still haunt my psyche.  If you continue with this, I’ll have to call the exorcist on you…and for good measure, have him release any evil from your stuffed animals and possibly Frodo.  So stop doing it, because you’re freaking me out!
  2. Pretending you don’t hear me –  The doctor checked your ears.  Twice.  And I was standing right there watching the whole time.  You’re not deaf.  You can hear me when I say “gummy bunnies” and “lollipop” so I know you hear me when I tell you to stop jabbing the coffee table with your fork.  Maybe you’ll hear me better if I say “Don’t gummy put bunnies play-doh lollipops in doughnuts Sissy’s seaweed mouth!”  (Yes, Worm loves to eat seaweed.)  Maybe I’ll pretend that I don’t hear you when we’re at the toy store and you’re asking me for more Tow Mater toys and a new bicycle.
  3. “Nonono!” – This is my least favorite reply.  What’s worse is when you wag your finger at me like I’m the bad little boy and you’re the grownup.  What’s crazy is that neither I, nor your mom taught you to do this.  What’s even more crazy is that your delivery is so convincing and assertive that for a split second, I DO feel like I’m the one that did something wrong and I SHOULD be scolded!

It’s still makes me cringe when I hear it…hence the reason why I don’t say it to you.   Lucky for me, your nonono is seldom said.   Seriously though Worm (in my stern dad voice), you’ve got to start listening to me more often, and not just when I tell you that we’re going to the playground.  But, for more important things, like “Don’t run out into the street!”, “Stay away from that ledge!” or “Get me a beer from the fridge!”  Listening to me when I make one of those statements may one day save your life!

(Imagine a situation where I’m ready to ‘tan your hide’ and you bringing me a beer…instantly, the world is at peace and your butt avoids seeing the light of day.  Listening to me pays off, see?)

Attaboy! That's More Like It, Worm!

Attaboy! That’s More Like It, Worm!

Gavin – 27; Honeydaddy – 16 (This one bugs me.  But, if I don’t find some more effective techniques, it has the potential to spiral out of control…Worm, I do have some valuable things to say, I REALLY DO!)

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Songs From the Shower – Smush, Something’s Amiss…

August 8, 2013 //
1

The cheeks are gone, nowhere to be found!

They must have escaped without any sound!

Last night, I’m sure I put you to bed

With two squishy mounds on each side of your head.  (Well, face.  But bed doesn’t rhyme with face.)

–

This morning without so much as a clatter

Two chubby cheeks vanished and thus left you flatter.

I’m in shock and awe.  Why gods?  What knife

Dost remove from this baby, the sweets of my life?

–

I’ll remedy this trouble by feeding you more

Milk and then Haagen-Dazs, fresh from the store.

Give me a week and I reckon you’ll get

Those plump, luscious cheeks back.  Don’t worry, nor fret.  (I’m telling myself more than I’m telling you, dear.)

–

And then you shall find me joyful.  Amused!

From squeezing and kissing your face until bruised.

Smushie, you’re sweet and a lovely delight

Don’t stretch out and grow up!  Stay little, alright?

Smushie, You'll Always Be My Baby Girl!

Smushie, You’ll Always Be My Baby Girl!

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She’s Got No Respect For the Artistic Process

August 5, 2013 //
3

Last week has been a whirlwind for the Smushter.  She decided that she wanted to crawl, to sit up, and to hold her own bottle before Friday.

The Worm gave me almost 9 months to prepare myself for his first crawl.  In fact, his first time putting four on the floor was on Christmas day in the year of his birth!  But before that, he had already found good stability in sitting upright.  Smushie, on the other hand, wasn’t interested in following big brother’s footsteps.  She (like most women I know) wants to do everything at once.  (I’m going to catch hell for that last sentence.)  Smush has decided to carve her own path…mainly by toppling over (face first, of course) into Legos, wooden train tracks, and Matchbox cars as well as by dragging her pot belly over everything else in her way.  A girlie girl she is not.  (But that’s ok.  With all the leg pulling, butt slapping, pile driving antics of her older sibling, she needs to be a bit rough and tumble to hold her own, or at least keep her body assembled.)

None of this is a problem.  I’m fine with her gaining mobility.  It just means that I’ve got to secure/confine/glue the baby to something before I can focus on anything else.  (It will also give me an opportunity to begin crate play pen training the little one.)

If “Miss Mochi Cheeks” continues on this rip-roaring path, I’m in trouble.  As if life isn’t already flying by, now I’ve got a baby girl who will be riding a bike next week and taking college entrance exams at the end of the month.  How do you tell a baby to slow down and smell the roses?  And that growing up will only get you one step closer to creaking joints, saggy butts, and incontinence.

I need time to collect my thoughts, jot them down, and reflect on the growth of my children.  It’s imperative for good blogging/documenting/recording.  Smushie doesn’t want any of that.  She’s plowing through infancy like Worm plows through the supermarket aisles, head down and as fast as the mind-body can move.

Smushie’s milestones last week really affected my subconscious, because I had a dream where Worm went straight from 2 to 16 in the blink of an eye and I couldn’t remember how it happened.  All of a sudden, he was a tall, lanky teenager asking for the car keys. I awoke distraught.  I can’t have that happen!

As Worm would say, “Mushie, listen me!” I need you to grow up gently.  So, I’m laying down some ground rules.  (Get it, ground rules?  Because you are crawling on the ground…ha ha…forget it.)  After every blog post I write, you will be allowed to learn one life skill.  Otherwise, the phases of your life be a blurry sludge of words and images in my head, some of which will never escape to see the white of paper.  I need you to progress in a leisurely fashion, otherwise my musings on your life will be brief and confusingly unintelligible.  Pretty please!!!!

There's Just No Stopping Her!

There’s Just No Stopping Her!

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