The Worst Zoo Day Ever…

October 14, 2014 //
0

It was another quiet Tuesday morning…until the kids woke up. I thought I’d be a nice Honeydaddy and fix the kids some slow-cooked homemade apple cinnamon oatmeal with the apples we picked last weekend. (That post hasn’t been written yet! Oops!) That was my first mistake…making a nice breakfast, not writing the apple picking post. Cooking oatmeal means being able to stand over the stove and making sure it doesn’t burn. The little apes ones were on full throttle as soon as they opened their eyes. Once set free from their pens, neither would stay anywhere within eye and earshot of me. Since Mushie is a magnet for trouble, I kept having to run back into the bedrooms to drag her out (kicking and screaming) to the living room, where I could better gauge her wandering curiosity.  (There is a reason why some parents, such as myself, love and cherish highchairs with chains, er..constraints, I mean…safety buckles…)

After 45 minutes of this type of multitasking, the food was done. I was not-quite-so-happy to be able to corral the feral chickens sweeties and give them a tasty, healthy meal. And before he even got the first spoonful, Worm wailed about how much he didn’t like it. I’d never made this apple cinnamon version before, but Worm was certain that my oatmeal was disgusting and worthy of a bucket full of tears. He refused to sample it and thwarted my attempts to pry his raptor claws hands from over his mouth. It was only after I distracted him with moving pictures on the TV, that I was able to shovel some gruel into him. He then asked for more and gobbled up the rest of his serving. Ridiculous. After filling his belly, I asked Worm if he had learned anything from his folly.  I drew a blank stare.

In an effort to cheer up the children, I thought to myself “Hey, wouldn’t it be a great idea to take the kids to the zoo?  We could discuss how eerily similar raising children are to keeping wild animals!” So we tried to get dressed and leave.  Now in our house, it takes anywhere from 20 to 45 minutes to get the kids and myself ready to go anywhere.  This time it was bordering on 60. Lots of whining about putting on clothes.  Mushie didn’t want a clean diaper. Worm forgot how to dress himself. No one wanted to wear shoes. I wrangled one slippery weasel child to get it clothed while the other one paraded around the house leaving a trail of toys behind. (A stun gun would really help maintain the order. My guess it that with a couple of short, but powerful zaps, I could dress the kids, pack snacks, and pile everything in the car in less than 20 minutes.)

The trip to the zoo was less than lovely. I’d hate to give the impression that toddlers cry for no reason whatsoever. So, I believe Mushie was overwhelmed by the whole ISIS crisis. She cried until she was out of tears…which just so coincided with the entire ride there…

I buckle Mushie and Worm to the wagon and by the time we get inside the zoo, it was hot!  So, more whining and crying ensued. I explained to the kids that when it takes almost 3 hours to eat breakfast, get dressed and leave the house that the day doesn’t wait for us. I drew two blank stares.

The third mistake was entirely mine. We had a brief moment of proverbial sunshine when Worm told me he loved me and that he wanted to ride the Skycar. I fell for it hook, line, and sinker. I thought it was a breakthrough and that the tides were turning! We rode the Skycar and it was actually a smiling, 3 minute event for all of us. But then we landed.

I can summarize the rest of the zoo trip below. This is immediately after we landed the Skycar on the other side of the zoo:

  • Worm screamed in tears “Hold me! Hold me!” until I carried him. There was no other choice.
  • Mushie screamed “Ho we! Ho we!” which means the same as “Hey, lanky asshat! I’m not interested in walking around anymore. Hold me now!” So now I was carrying both kids and the diaper bag. (In case you were wondering, the kiddie wagon was parked at the other side of the zoo, where we got on the Skycar. It was too big to fit inside.)
  • We stopped to see the elephants. I put both kids down. Tears. “Hold me! Ho we!” played in the background as I mentally twisted the words into a lovely melody. The song lasted until other people started staring. I picked them up and walked on.
  • We stopped to see the tapirs. I put the kids down. I could barely feel my biceps, but the Worm didn’t care. More tears. “I’m hungry! Eat! Eat! I don’t want that! Noooo!” I explain to Worm that I left my magic wand at home and couldn’t make his requested foods jump out of the diaper bag.
  • We stopped to see the camel. I ask Worm to walk a bit because my arms needed a break. He said HIS legs were tired and proceeded to scream, cry, and jump around me in circles to get me to carry him further. It was the oddest display of toddler fatigue I’d ever witnessed. I picked him up again and trudged on.
  • I decided to go for the trump card and offered both children lollipops, but ONLY IF THEY WALKED PART OF THE WAY back to the wagon. It worked for the Worm. But I spoke too soon and retrieved only a single pop from the diaper bag. Smushter felt like she got the short end of the stick. So now it was her turn to scream and cry.
  • I flipped that damn diaper bag inside out hunting for a second lollipop all while questioning why I left the house, why I try to care for children without my liquor flask, and why I had children in the first place…
  • I found a second lollipop and all became right in the world with each of them…and I began to feel the sensation in my arms coming back to me.

Children have a way of ruining experiences that leave an indelible mark on your psyche. Now when I hear the words “Do you want to go to the zoo?”, I cringe and think to myself “I wake up inside the zoo every day. I just open my eyes and I’m smack dab in the middle of the chimpanzee exhibit.”

I can’t believe you read this far…or maybe you just scrolled down to see the pictures. (Mom, I’m talking to you.)

A Picture of the Beau...Um...Special Children in My Life.

A Picture of the Beau…Um…Special Children in My Life.

Gavin – 35; Honeydaddy – 21 (Why do you want me to suffer, Worm? Why?)

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Honeydaddy has Left the Building

September 26, 2014 //
5

As the kids get older, I’m starting to work more. Hold on. Let me step back for a second. It’s difficult for me to work more than I do as a parent. What I mean is that I’m doing other activity besides changing diapers and cooking toddler food. Yes, I had a life and job before they came and I’m very interested in resuming some of those activities again. Very.

So this past weekend, I went off to a business event.  I left early on Friday morning and returned in time to pick up the kids from daycare the following Monday afternoon. I was missing in action for almost 4 full days.

I didn’t tell the Worm that I was leaving and I didn’t tell him when I was coming back. He’s at an age where he understands quite a bit, but the man-made concept of time doesn’t trigger much neuronal activity. So what did I do? I made the choice not to tell Worm about my trip. I mean, why would I want to stress the little guy both before I leave as well as while I’m gone, right? Right? Please tell me I’m right.

The situation didn’t pan out as well as I had hoped. It turns out that Worm arose Friday morning to find no one resembling the chiseled, dashingly handsome and debonair Honeydaddy anywhere. He missed me. Deeply. And his world fell apart every day that he didn’t find me hiding in the closet, under the couch cushions, or behind the coffee table.  (I missed him too, but I played with my cell phone all weekend to distract myself from the emotional roller coaster of reality.)

Worm and I are best friends. Every day, he tells me that he loves me. Every day, I hug him and let him know how proud I am of him. Every day, I tell him that I love him in a way that he could never question. Except for last weekend. And Worm wasn’t quite himself. Sure, his mother was there to hold him, and squeeze him, and love him.  But that’s her relationship with the Worm, not mine. She can’t take the place of me, just as I couldn’t take her’s. The human heart just doesn’t allow us to replace one another that way.

So this week when I returned to my normal daddy duties and doodies, I was reminded of how much a part of that little boy’s life I have become. I’m a fixture to the Worm.  Not like a lightswitch, but more like a TV with Curious George episodes playing on it.  I’m important.

Worm’s been afraid to take his afternoon nap, and though he hasn’t said it, I believe he’s fearful that I won’t be home when he wakes up. During what should be his nap time, he pokes his head out in the living room every 10 minutes to check on me by saying “I just want to give you a hug.” or “I want to give you a mooch.” This has been going on for over an hour a day. He fears that if he closes his eyes for too long, I’ll disappear.

Worm’s still not quite recovered from my trip. (Neither am I, by the way.) So I’m working to repair the damage I did by supplying extra hugs and kisses to him.

I don’t know where to go with this one. This is a tough spot. I know that I’ll be doing more weekend events, but I’m still not sold on telling Worm that I’ll be gone since he only understands two forms of time: right now and not right now. Maybe I’ll just give up on working and retire now.  Maybe I’ll take the Worm with me to events to run the cash register or something.  Or maybe I’ll help Worm disconnect from emotional suffering by getting him a cell phone.

Worm, That's an Interesting Sleeping Face...

Worm, That’s an Interesting Sleeping Face…

 

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The Great Crib Escape

September 12, 2014 //
0

It’s official. The Worm has wiggled his way out of his wormhole and into the still of the night.

I’m assuming that the majority of crib escapes happen under complete darkness.  As a parent, I imagine rolling over in the middle of the night and opening my eyes to note the time on the bedside clock.  Instead of numbers, I see a set of piercing eyes hovering 3 feet off the ground. I jump to the other side of the mattress and huddle behind my wife to protect my body and limbs from attack.  I look harder and see disheveled hair and a shiny object.  I yelp…in a manly way…as a signal for everyone in the house to wake up and run for safety. Then I realize that it’s only the Worm, who is standing there clutching a night-night book with a reflective mirror cover.  It’s not Chucky coming to take my life, but my own child who has broken out of his cage crib.

Worm’s clever.  He’s been milking this crib thing for all it’s worth.  The dude’s so big now that if he leaned over the railing, he’d probably fall out.  I tried to teach him how to climb out about 6 months ago, but he wasn’t having any of it.  He feigned weakness and lack of coordination.  It was a very believable, Oscar quality performance.  I bought it hook, line, and sinker.  I left the idea alone afterwards.

Realistically, there’s no reason for him to leave, once he’s put to bed.  Every beckon call is immediately answered with a “Yes, sir? More ice for your water? Could we bring you some games for your evening pleasure? Or perhaps a night time book? A song? 10 touch-me’s? A foot rub? Maybe we could offer you some freshly peeled and sliced apples?”  When he calls to use the potty, he’s answered within seconds.  Sometimes, he’ll get carried straight to the bathroom toilet, his feet never having to touch the floor.  Some people will pay big money for this kind of room service…and I think he knows he’s getting it for free!

He’s 3 and a half now. It’s probably about time for him to move out of the crib and into a bed. Some people think we waited too long, others think we should wait until he’s 18.  I’m just happy I got to be the first to see him climb out. He just called me into his room to take him to the potty, and I was standing there talking to him. He flashed a wry smile and began to survey his surroundings. Then all of a sudden, he hoisted himself up and out.  As I said before, this is something that I think most parents don’t get to see when it happens the very first time. So, I think it’s pretty cool.  Seeing the pride in his face as he successfully swung both legs over the top and plunked each foot down on the carpet of freedom was awesome. We exchanged high fives, cigars and discussed other techniques should he ever find himself trapped inside a crib against his own will.

I got video of the encore presentation, as I was clapping and screaming for more!  He did not disappoint. BTW, we are still working on doing pee pee and poopie on the same potty visit.

Gavin – 34; Honeydaddy – 21 (I think we each should get a point here.  Worm gets one point for taking advantage of his free crib service.  I’ll take a point for being in the right place at the right time! It’s time to convert the crib to a bed…)

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MVG Super Green Juice

August 26, 2014 //
0

Keep Drinking Green Juice Worm, and You’ll Get Those Bumpy Muscles You’ve Been Asking About!

Green juice is all the rave nowadays…well, with the health conscious crowd anyways.  I’ve been drinking my own personal twist on green juice for a couple years now and have perfected the recipe.  It’s chock full of vitamins, minerals, and calories.  Yes, calories.

I’m active.  I workout a lot.  It’s mainly because I need the strength and stamina to carry babies, bags, and dogs day in and day out.  And sometimes I need a quick way to consume calories because someone’s screaming, someone needs a diaper change, or someone’s trying to jump off the coffee table without a cape…or sometimes all three.

It was only a couple months ago that I said to myself “Self, wouldn’t it be awesome if Worm loved Green Juice as much as I do?”  So I tried it on him…and he drank all of it!  I gave some to Smushie too.  She loved it too!  (For her, it doesn’t mean as much since she eats anything within arm’s length.)  I figured I was on to something.

I could finally get my kids to eat kale, spinach, flax, chia, and more?!  And they could get easily absorbed nutrients and healthy fiber from real food instead of gummy vitamins?

Here is probably the finest green juice recipe for you and your children, especially those picky kids that could use the calories to grow, grow, grow!  Oh yeah, it’s dairy free for those with lactose intolerance.

You’ll need a blender and a coffee grinder.  Calories are in brackets.

Ingredients:

  • 1 cup organic carrot juice   [70]
  • 2 cups organic unsweetened almond milk or almond/coconut milk   [80]
  • 1/2 cup organic oatmeal [75]
  • 1 large handful organic greens (kale, chard, spinach, mizuna) [20] (You can use your favorite greens!)
  • 1/2 Tbsp ground black sesame seed [10]
  • 1 Tbsp organic chia seed [60] (Put in coffee grinder with flax seed and grind until fine)
  • 1 Tbsp organic flax seed [45]
  • 1 cup Serious Mass weight gainer [600]
  • 1/2 organic apple [50] (Remove the seeds and core)
  • 1 medium organic banana [110]
  • 2 Tbsp organic hemp protein [60]  (I like the cocoa flavored one!)
  • 1 Tbsp organic unsweetened almond butter [90]
  • 1 Tbsp organic unsweetened peanut butter [100]
  • 1 Tbsp organic coconut oil [100]
  • 1/2 Tbsp organic molasses [30]
  • TOTAL CALORIES = [1500]

Directions:

Put 8oz carrot juice and 16 oz milk in blender.  Add 1/2 cup oatmeal and huge handful of greens.  Blend on high for a minute.

Put 1/2 tablespoon of sesame seed and 1 tablespoon of chia seed, and 1 tablespoon of flax seed in coffee grinder and grind until fine.  I buy the whole seed because the natural oils don’t degrade as quickly as if you bought pre-ground stuff.  Add ground seeds to blender.

Add 1 cup weight gainer, if you so choose to.  Blend on high for a minute.  (For me and my skinny little son, the extra calories are awesome!)

Add 1/2 apple and banana.  Add 2 tablespoons of hemp protein.  Add 1 tablespoon each of almond butter and peanut butter.  Add 1/2 tablespoon of molasses to sweeten if you wish.  Blend everything on high for two minutes to get a nice thick frothy drink!

NOTES:  It must be kept in the refrigerator, preferably in a closed container!  The MVG Super Green Juice only lasts about 48 hours.  After that it starts to go bad…yes, that’s what happens to real food.  It goes bad quickly.  So drink up!

It’s not quite green in color, but its still pretty darn good!

It just oozes healthiness! It's like Richard Simmons and Arnold Schwarzenegger in a cup!

It just oozes healthiness! It’s like Richard Simmons and Arnold Schwarzenegger in a cup!

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Songs From the Shower – To Belly or Not To Belly

August 22, 2014 //
0

I loved the round belly on my baby Smush (11)

It used to be bigger to match her plump tush. (11)

But then she stretched out, and so did her tummy.

Hugs became puny, not nearly so yummy.

One thing had remained, though.  Her huge appetite

Still flourished and shined like a beacon of light.

 

The question I ask “Would it be fair for me

To stuff those sweet cheeks and grow back that belly?”

I gave her a burger today with some fries,

Believing the meal was too great for her size.

She hoisted the burger with one hand, then two.

I pitied the cow when I heard it go “Moo!”

 

“Calories!”, the reply, of the question “What

Could recapture my glee when tickling her gut?”

Bring burgers and fries, with some hotdogs and cheese

‘Til my Mushie’s a Meatball again!  Oh, please!

 

Am I nuts for wanting to squeeze baby pudge,

Before Smush grows up and gets lanky?  Don’t judge

Me for relishing and savoring this time.

She’ll mature so quickly, then show me that I’m

a silly old man holding on to memories.

 

Usually one would make that face after the first bite, not the fifth one!

Usually one would make that face after the first bite, not the fifth one!

 

 

 

 

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School Isn’t For Everybody…

August 18, 2014 //
0

and the littlest one hasn’t quite bought into it.  Two months ago, our vivacious, athletic Smushie (with an impressive resumé of sports such as Slap Face, Dirty Diaper Sprinting, and Who Can Give the Meanest Stink Eye) performed countless hours of community service in the form of play vacuuming, Swiffering, and couch cushion fluffing, to try and lock in a spot at the nearby daycare.  Even with a 0.0 GPA, her physical pursuits capture the eyes of school administration and they had to have her.  A full ride scholarship was out of the question due to Smushie’s off-campus antics, but the school did offer us a multiple child discount for enrolling her!

This is the Closest I Could Get Them to Stand & Pose For a Picture...

This is the Closest I Could Get Them to Stand & Pose For a Picture…

Worm was going twice a week to daycare for half days until the spot opened up for the Mush Monster.  Steph and I had decided that once they both were in school, that they would stay there for the entire day, allowing the children time away from me to grow and prosper in ways that I just couldn’t provide.  (Translation:  I would get some free time to recover from the insanity of child rearing.)  We consulted Smush for acknowledgement or opposition to our plan and her response was to cram a handful of strawberries into her mouth.  We took that as an OK.

Smushie is still adjusting to life as a pre-pre-preschooler.  It’s been three weeks now.  (I know, I’m slow at keeping up with my blog!)  She has her good days and her bad days.  She wants to be held by the teachers often, which is out-of-character because at home, the Meatball is all over the place, not shy about anything, and slaps us if we try to hold her.

I’ve got mixed feelings about keeping her in school twice a week, but everyone I’ve talked to has insisted that the emotional scars of daycare will only last a few decades.  Worm was 2.5 years old when we put him in daycare.  Smushie is 1.5, a full year younger.  Is she too young to be away from me?  Should she only be at school for half days?  Does she feel abandoned?  Is she going to hate and resent me for this?

The deeper personal conflict is that I feel guilty for rushing her into daycare so soon.  But after 3 years of stay at home parenting, I need a break.  I’m burned out.  I’ve been noticing that activities with the kids in the past months have felt more like work than like fun.  Not all of them, but definitely more than I’d like.  And that’s no bueno.  I can’t give the kids 100% of myself right now and my performance is lackluster.  I don’t want them to think I don’t care, but I also don’t want to neglect my own needs, much of which I’ve been struggling to meet.  So this daycare thing is as much about me and my personal growth as it is about Mushie and hers.  I give myself a C+ in parenting 101 and have been for months.  I can only hope that this situation will improve as Mushie and I try to improve our lot…otherwise, we may both go crazy!

This is the First Day of Daycare Together! Someone's Weak in the Knees, Either From Fear or Excitement!

This is Their First Day Heading off to Daycare Together! Someone’s Weak in the Knees…Either From Fear or Excitement!

After rereading this blog, I must say that I have to give the Worm a point for this.  In the past 3 weeks, he’s been uber-helpful and has stepped up to the plate as a big brother to help Mushie get adjusted. 

Gavin – 33; Honeydaddy – 20 (I love you, boy! And I know Mushie loves you too!)

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Categories Education

I Can’t Make Sense of the Little Woman! Or Most Women For That Matter…

July 31, 2014 //
0

Men are from Mars and women are from a galaxy far, far, away.  That’s common knowledge.  A man’s brain is wired for rational, linear problem solving and sheer awesomeness!  I’m hungry.  I should eat food.  I’m thirsty.  I should drink beer.  And so forth.  A man’s brain operates like a Swiss watch, accurately and efficiently!  On the other hand, a woman’s brain is a wiring nightmare.  Their thoughts usually go like this:  “Let me see if I can talk on the phone while yelling at the radio station while getting dressed while driving while filling out a checkbook while eating breakfast while thinking about whether my bedroom should be painted mauve or lilac.”  (Come on ladies.  I see you doing this on the freeway all the time!)  A woman’s brain reminds me of the internet, a potpourri of gross interconnectedness.  When I query the word “gray”, I get the answer “Flashdance and the iconic sweatshirt”.  Say what?

I didn’t think that differences could be seen so early in life, but I’ve been swayed since the Smush came along.  As a comparison (just this once for my readers, because I don’t compare my children to one another…they are each unique snowflakes), Worm and I not only speak clearly to one another, but we can relate through sign language and orca clicks.  It’s remarkable that we don’t even have to be in the same room to understand each other.  Sometimes he farts and I know what he means.  It’s beautiful.  Smushie, though, just doesn’t make any sense to me.

Her words are limited to “Hi!” and “Daddie” in various permutations and combinations, but I’m not penalizing her on that.  She’s got grunts and twisted faces that help her to get the point across.  But more than half the time, I still don’t get it.  I’ve also never been good at Charades.  But still.

Exhibit A:

The setting – 9:30am and she hasn’t eaten breakfast since she woke up at 7.  I’ve prepared a plate of strawberries and pancakes ready to feed her.  Smushel is standing in the kitchen looking at me going “Ah. Ah. Ah.”  Her mouth is wide open.

Me – “Mushie, do you want some strawberries?” I fork the fruit from the plate and move it towards her mouth.

Smush – “Hi Daddie! Daddie!” with a smile on her face.

Me – “Here you go.” And I put the fork right in front of her mouth.

Smush – “Wahhhhh!” She gets this fearful look on her face, her eyes well up with tears, and she slowly inches backwards.

Me – “Don’t you want to eat?  Aren’t you hungry?”  I start to walk towards her.

Smush – turns and runs away to the corner of the living room.

Me – Uh, what the hell just happened?  “Oh well, more strawberries for me…”

 

Exhibit B:

The setting – 11am and she points at the TV.

Me – “Mush, do you want to watch some show?”

Smush – Nodding in agreement.

Me – I pick up the remote and turn on the TV.

Smush – drops to the ground and clutches the carpet in agony.

Me – “Uh, Worm?” as I look over to see if anyone else caught what was going on.

Worm – “Yes, Honeydaddy?”

Me – “Why is Mushie crying?” I ask, as if my height deterred me from seeing ‘eye to eye’ with my daughter.

Worm – “I think she just wants you to want to turn on the TV, but not actually do it. Or she’s crying for the killings in Gaza.  I can’t really tell.”

Me – “Worm, neither of those things you said make any sense to me.”

Worm – “Sure Daddy.”

The above two scenarios play out almost daily in some odd form.  Before the Smushmonster came, I figured there wasn’t much to understanding toddlers.  Now I find myself second guessing an 18 month old girl’s motives, especially when my incorrect action causes her to sprawl out on the floor screaming like I ripped the arms off her favorite teddy bear.  It’s like she’s speaking a different language.  I fear this may be the beginning of a long life of daddy-daughter misunderstandings.  I need to brace myself.  Or just defer to her mother for a translation…and I can stick to understanding farts.

This is Mushie's Response to Me Asking Her if She Wants to Play Legos.

This is Mushie’s Response to Me Asking if She Wants to Play Legos.

 

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