Babies With Flat Heads Are The Sweetest Ones

June 26, 2013 //
0

Studies have shown that babies with plagiocephaly are kind, sweet, loving, and happy infants.  Our research has determined a correlation between a cranial flat spot and a jovial affect.  First, I must give you a little background on our two test monkeys subjects.  Smushie, the present subject, is all of those pleasant things and the posterior portion of her head is flat.  And a number of years ago, I (the other subject) was a baby with similar features, both of personality and of physique.  Coincidence?  No.  These two positive data points makes us (and by us, I mean me) confident that my our assumption holds 100% true.  Babies with flat heads are definitely more good-natured than their round-headed counterparts.

A little history about me.  I was a considerate baby.  I never cried much.  I slept a lot.  I ate when I needed to and excused myself after belching.  I changed my own diapers and took out the trash once a week before I could walk.  (I tied trash bags to my body and dragged them out to the curb.)  I was an easy child and my mom and dad didn’t have to lift too many extra fingers after welcoming me to the family.  Good thing for them, because they needed the rest of their fingers and all of their toes to control my wily older brother.  For the most part, I was left allowed to peacefully sit and observe my surroundings.  And by sit, I mean that my parents would prop me up against the one coconut tree (‘Nature’s babysitter’ is what the locals would call it)  growing in the center of our dirt floor house.   I enjoyed many an afternoon watching my older brother run into that tree only to rattle the occasional drupe loose.  (How I loved the ‘thunk’ of a fresh coconut colliding with my dear brother’s head.  Sorry, I digress.)  Gravity also took its toll on me as I lay at the base of the tree day after day.  The pressure of my head on the hard tree trunk eventually molded my occiput flat.  I was an amiable baby and didn’t need my parents to coddle me much.  And they needed to use their extra energy for chasing after my brother.  (On a side note, I recently thought about having some fat taken out of my ass and injected into the back of my head to give me a more normal human look.  But, I couldn’t come to grips with being a true-to-life butthead and so changed my mind.)

Now back to the Smushster.  Her head is flat in the back.  Not so much now as it was before, since she’s been a stomach sleeper for the past 2 months.  I know, I know.  SIDS risk, right?  But, I can’t force her to sleep on her back without duct taping her pj’s to the mattress and the wife nixed that idea pretty quickly.  (She quickly nixes most of my ideas, huh?)  Because of the fear of SIDS that my wife instilled in me, I now sleep in the same room as Smush.  I keep one ear peeled and pounce on any funny noises exiting her crib.  Anyhow, for the first 4 months of her life, she was always on her back.  Why?  Because we read somewhere that you should never try to make a happy baby even happier.  So, we didn’t.

It would have been foolish of me to bother to pick Smush up while she was being such a good little girl.  And boy, oh boy, has she been a good girl thus far.  The only time she really fusses is when she’s hungry or the Worm is trying to separate her feet from her ankles.  That’s why she has spent a lot of time in the crib, in the car seat, and in the baby sling (which saved us from having to find a coconut tree to lean her against).  Which proves my hypothesis – babies with flat heads are the sweetest ones.

Why?  Good babies are allowed to just be.  They don’t need to be held, carried, rocked, bounced, jostled, swinged, etc.  They hang out.  Which means that they spend more time sitting or laying down in one position than the persnickety babies that need constant attention, changing scenery, etc.  By not being held as much, the happy baby heads eventually conform to the shape of the surface they come in contact with, which is usually flat.

There you have it folks.  Theory, hypothesis, a little imagination, some results, and a conclusion.  Who said life wasn’t one big science project?  (I’m really trying to exercise my own mind here…I feel it rapidly disintegrating from lack of use.)

In Some Cultures, a Flat Spot is a Sign of Beautifulness!

In Some Cultures, a Flat Spot is a Sign of Beautifulness!

Tags , , , , , , ,
Categories MVG Oddities

The Miracle of Sleep Scheduling

June 21, 2013 //
1

I’ve finally been able to get some free time during the day.  (When I say free time, I mean time to toss in some laundry, make a meal for myself, go to the bathroom, pick up toys off the floor, and sit down for 3 minutes.  Free time in our house means free from screaming children!)

I knew that caring for a second child, in addition to the Worm, would make my life three times the lady it once was.  (Isn’t it impressive how I’ve thrown in a reference to the king of ballads, Lionel Richie, even if it doesn’t make any sense whatsoever?  I digress.)  Two kids requires not two, but three times the effort in managing triple the chaos.  I thought that a schedule would be a valuable thing to help me squeeze out some magical “me” minutes from my hectic day, but just after Smush was born and up until recently, I couldn’t even schedule the time to think about a schedule.

So, soon after Steph’s maternity leave was over, she went back to work and I began fumbling through the daily eat and sleep schedules of the little ones by myself.  Worm takes 2 meals and 1 nap a day.  Smush takes 3 meals and 3 naps a day.  I asked myself “How am I going to manage without hiring a really attractive nanny or a beer-slinging manny to help me out?”  (There were no negotiations.  Steph shot down the idea before I could convince her of its brilliance.)

With my dreams of an assistant stomped right out of my senses, I gravitated towards the hippie method of parenting in hopes that the universe would naturally organize my day.  I “let things try to work themselves out, dude…” for almost two months.  It didn’t work.  I was clearly not a hippie and therefore could not fool the hippie spirits to work in my favor.  Or maybe I wasn’t conjuring them up in the right smoke. *cough* *cough* *cough*  (Just kidding, NSA.  Tell the DEA I don’t do that stuff.  Please!)

It’s hard to believe that even with Smushie napping 3 times a day, there was never a time when both kids’ naps overlapped by more than 10 minutes.  Until I solved the riddle.  It’s all about sleep scheduling.  I learned that if Pavlov’s dogs could be trained, so could Honeydaddy’s children.

Babies and toddlers need structure, otherwise bad things happen (like creativity and abstract thought, neither of which make sense).  Their brains have not yet been calcified from the years of artificial sweeteners, GMOs, and over-flouridated water in our environment.  Their brains are, in essence, plastic.  Moldable.  Pliable.  Bendable.  Like play-doh.  During my short-lived hippie parenting phase, I was succumbing to the kids’ whims and fancies and it was getting me nowhere.  So, I turned the car around and drove in the complete opposite direction.  Structure, structure, structure.

Worm – you nap at noon. Period.  (Give or take a minute.  I kindly added some slack to the schedule.)  If you eat lunch before your 12 o’clock nap, great.  If not, I can stuff a sandwich and chips in your mouth while you’re sleeping with your mouth agape.  I know you can chew in your sleep.  I won’t let that talent go to waste.  Otherwise, you eat your next meal when you wake up.

Smush – you nap at 9am, noon, and 3pm.  (A minute here or there won’t hurt either.  I’m flexible.)  You’re so flighty that one minute you won’t touch your milk and the next, you’re starving.  I know how to work with you.  If you skip a meal and it’s nap time and you get hungry, you’re out of luck.  You’ll cry, wear yourself out and then fall asleep (which is the goal anyhow).  Enough repetition of this and your body will adapt.  I know you’re only 5 months old, but come on, how long are you going to use that excuse on me?

The result?  Sleep scheduling worked for me.  I can get anywhere from 45 minutes to 2 hours of “kid free” time without resorting to locking them both in the bathroom.  Besides, when the kids know what is coming, they’re less likely to flail and I don’t have to use the taser nearly as often.

I Caught You Two! What Are You Whispering About?

I Caught You Two! What Are You Whispering About?

Gavin – 25; Honeydaddy – 15 (I’m more clever than I look.  For now, at least.)

Tags , , , , , ,
Categories Random Thoughts

Mommy Daddy Yummy!

June 15, 2013 //
1

Wormie tells us this all the time!  Translated, the title means that we love him.  Lucky for us, he doesn’t think we are tastier than the new gut-busting Krispy Kreme doughnut sloppy joe sandwich, because nothing is or ever will be.   (This sandwich incidentally made it’s debut in my hometown!)  So, in case I forget about these funny words and sayings that Worm toddlerizes, I feel that I need to post them here.  But instead of just putting together a list, I’ve decided to write it out as a dialogue between us in what would occur in a Honeydaddy-Worm conversation.

Me:  Worm, are you ready for lunch?

Worm:  Eat big meat!  Watch tah tee see-oh!  (Translation – “Sure father.  I would love to dine on pheasant or swine, or even bison while I view an episode of Curious George.)

—–

Me:  What are you stuffing in your diaper?

Worm:  Buy a nana, nut, and pee a bubba, ga koo!  (Translation – “Just some banana, doughnut, and Nutella.  Thank you!  These pants pockets are fake!  So, I found some extra space here in my soggy underwear.”)

—–

Worm:  Me tursy dat.  chase fo wo and guk eet.  (Translation – “I’m parched from exercising the dogs around the house.  Can you grab me a beer?”)

Me:  How about a root beer instead?

—–

Worm:  Honeydaddy, my arm hurt.  My pee pee hurt.  Tiss.  (Translation – “I can’t fathom how I could hurt my arm and pee pee simultaneously, but I did.  Can you kiss them to make me feel better?”)

Me (if there’s any time that I must step up and be a dad, it’s now.):  Umm….uhh….Well, I suggest you stop yanking on your pee pee like you’re starting a lawnmower and both your arm and pee pee will feel better.  Point to the boo boo.  *mwah*…one for the arm and…’hey is that a fire engine over there!?!’

Worm: Wow! Where?

—–

Sorry Worm, I Should Have Believed You The First Time You Told Me...

Sorry Worm, I Should Have Believed You The First Time You Told Me…

Tags ,
Categories Education

Who Taught You How To Bend The Truth?

June 10, 2013 //
0

I’ve still got my eyes, and my wit hasn’t dimmed.  Yet.  So, I’m not sure what type of shenanigans Worm was trying to pull on me, but it didn’t work this time.  (And I assure you, Worm, that it won’t work until I’ve lost all my marbles.  I’m as sharp as a Ginsu knife.)

In our never-ending battle of man versus food, I was ‘convincing’ the boy to eat his lunch by way of the pause button on the remote control.  (If you’ve just tuned in, catch up here.)

“Worm, eat.”

“Watch show!”

I press pause and he rips off a bit of apple and gulps it down to get the TV moving again.  Curious George reanimates.

A minute goes by.

“Worm.  Eat!”

“No.”

I press pause again.  Worm springs to life and takes a sliver of apple and looks at me as if unsure of what to do with it.  I nod.  He takes a bite.  I unpause the TV.  (I do this about 100 times a day.  No joke.  I’ve had to modify Worm’s meal schedule because of this huge time suck.  And since I don’t want to get repetitive stress syndrome in my thumb, I now only feed Worm once a day.)

Another minute passes.

“WORM!  EAT!”

He looks at me and puts the last piece of apple in his mouth.  I unpause the show and he resumes watching the tube (that’s what we called it back when it really was a tube), chews a few times and then stealthily slips the apple out of his mouth and back onto his tray.  He then puts his palm over it like he’s performing a magic trick.  Voila!  The disappearing apple trick.  (Or the “I eat, but I don’t gain any weight” anorexia trick.)

Of course I see what’s going on.  How can I not see?  I’ve had 2 years to grow eyes in the back of my head and learn Worm’s every subtle hand gesture.  I’ve studied him like a chef studies fresh produce at the market…(I don’t know, it sounded good in my head.)

“Worm, did you eat that apple?”

“Mmm hmm!” and he gives me the classic bubble cheeked fake chewing face.  (The look was as fake as a Guccci handbag.)

Normally, I would give the benefit of the doubt.  Maybe Worm didn’t understand what I was saying.  He is only 2.  But what showed me that Worm knew exactly what I said and was really trying to pull the wooly mammoth over my eyes was that when I glanced over at the hand concealing the apple, the mini-Houdini couldn’t help but giggle and squirm.

It was Worm’s first lie.  He was testing me.  And after all of that, I had three options to remedy the situation:

  1. Rap Worm’s knuckles ten times with the edge of a ruler to show him that lying to anyone other than the government, is inappropriate.
  2. Tell him about all of the starving children in the world that DON’T have an apple to eat, and get Worm to cry uncontrollably about the crimes of humanity and why humans cannot support one another as easily as they destroy one another.
  3. Lift up his hand.  Show him the apple.  Then explain to him that real magicians, like David Copperfield (the second famous one, not the first) can make apples disappear by swallowing them.  But, only after he has chewed the apple a recommended 25 times first.

The readers voted for #1, but since the votes were tallied in Florida, #3 was the winner.  Worm, it’s your lucky day punk!

Hey dude...

What apple?

Gavin – 25; Honeydaddy – 14 (Watch me make your college tuition disappear, Worm!)

Tags , , ,
Categories Play

When I Squeeze Too Hard…

May 31, 2013 //
0

…Smush leaks.  From either the top or the bottom.  Actually she leaks out of the sides too.  Sometimes I don’t even have to squeeze her and stuff squirts out.  I can wrap her in diapers from head to toe and it’s not enough to curb her outpouring of, um, love.

VOMIT:  Worm wasn’t this messy.  In fact I can count on one hand how many times he spit up during his infancy.  In Smush’s case, I can barely fit on one hand the number of times she spits up in a day.  Steph tells me that my technique in holding Smush puts pressure on her stomach and makes for easy projectile vomiting.  I hold her as I would hold a bunch of clothes that need to go to the laundry, i.e. stuffed under my arm.  I did it with Worm and it worked fine.  Besides, it makes my arms look more muscular when I carry her around the playground.  I see no reason why Smush can’t follow the path that big brother has cleanly (and I stress, cleanly) set out already.  (In case you’re wondering…being in close proximity of my armpits has not been clinically proven to cause nausea, vomiting, and excessive drooling.)

PEE:  Little girls aren’t equipped with a firehose like the lads.  It’s not like you can move any equipment around in their diaper or make any minor adjustments.  Diapers and girls are pretty much plug and play.  Still, I’m perplexed as to how my little girl’s diaper can barely be wet, while her pants are soaked in pee.  It makes no sense.  But what does make sense, is that the gods are using her body as a conduit and indirectly taking turns pissing on me for my karmic misdeeds.

POOP:  We visit the zoo once a week.  She manages to poop through her diaper, wiggle in her stroller seat enough to get poop up to her pits and then acts like she doesn’t know why all the flies are swarming us.  Don’t even ask about the rest of the week.

On average, she’s soiling 4 bibs and 3 outfits a day.  My logical mind tells me that if we can flip the materials inside out, we can cut the amount of dirty clothes in half.  The worst of it is that I’m less and less interested in holding her without wrapping her in a plastic bag first.  Especially for long periods of time.  And if I hear any noise (or any long, still pause), my instincts cause my elbows to straighten and force the street to catch any fluid spillage.  Unless, I’m in the house.  Then, I just sprinkle some bacon bits over the fresh mess and let the dogs clean up.  (I kid.  I kid.)

Uh oh.  I think I heard something…

I'm a Lady, Dammit!

I’m a Lady, Dammit!

Tags , , , ,
Categories MVG Oddities

Worm, Use the Force…

May 28, 2013 //
0

…to get your pacifier!  Use your Jedi mind.

If Luke Skywalker Can Do It, So Can I

Dad, That Sounds Like Way Too Much Work…

August 2011

Tags , ,
Categories GPOD

Guess Who Got Bitten The Other Day?

May 27, 2013 //
1

We’ve got two dogs.  We’ve had them for so long that they are starting to smell a tad musty.  Now we have two kids, one that scurries around like a headless chicken and the other with the mobility of a turtle on its back.  With our small house, it was only a matter of time before any two of these particles would collide.  And they did.

Let me first say that we have gone to dog and baby class to learn about how to deal with kids and animals living together.  But, we never took a class on how to deal with kids and kids together.

I left the two dogs in the front room and the two kids in the living room with the idea that I could quickly go drink a few beers wash up a few dishes in the sink.  Not 10 seconds later, I heard a baby scream and I dropped the kitchen sponge to peek over the counter.  I saw Smush screaming at the top of her lungs and Worm standing 3 feet away with his eyes glued to the TV like nothing happened.

I walked over to them both and ask the question “What happened?” as if either one could answer me.

Worm replied “Watch George show.”  (Translation:  Can’t you see? I’m watching the Curious George show.)  Three words that made perfect sense to him, but didn’t answer my question.  I rephrased it.

“Worm, why is sissy crying?”  (Translation:  What did YOU do to your sister?)

He responds with the sign language for cry and points to Smush.  (Translation:  Sissy is crying and I plead the 5th.)

Believing that the accused could drag my interrogation out over the better part of an hour, I took matters into my own hands and scooped up the Smushster from her tummy time mat.

With the instincts of a polished detective (I’ve seen Columbo.), I started taking off her clothes to see if there were any marks or indications that an altercation had ensued.  I found bite marks!  I snapped off some pictures and sent them to dental forensics for further examination.

Even before the evidence had come back matching Worm to the crime, the prime suspect (solely because there was no one else in the room at the time of incident) was confessing (and not the slightest bit remorseful, I might add.)

I’d like to blame the biting on Worm, but I think it’s my fault.  I ‘play bite’ Smush on her belly all the time.  Worm probably saw me do it time and again and imagined that her belly was made of steel.  So he did it too.  After she started wailing, he didn’t think that his biting and her crying were related.

To fit the crime to the punishment, the suspect was booked on involuntary man-eating and sentenced to two hours without George show.

Forensic Report of "The First Bite" (because there will probably be more biting after this one...)

Forensic Report of “The First Bite” (because this won’t be the only time…)

Gavin – 25; Honeydaddy – 13 (Stupid me for teaching Worm how to bite people for fun…)

Tags , ,
Categories Play
« Older Entries
Newer Entries »