I Sort of Love You Honeydaddy!

July 9, 2014 //
0

I’m being replaced by a handheld video game.

The Worm loves me a lot.  Well, he used to love me a lot.  We’re each udders best fwends.  He tells me probably 10 times a day that he loves me and/or he wants to give me a hug.  It’s an awesome feeling and I’d like to see how long it will last.  If you would have asked me last week, I would have guessed we’d be together for years.  But, I think we’ve done something to inadvertently shortened the span of our best fwendship…maybe onto the order of days.

I know that one day my little Wormie is going to leave me for another best friend.  And I hope it will be for someone that will treat him well and love him for who he is, not just for his extreme good looks and chiseled jaw that he received from his dear old dad.  I didn’t know that this new friend would be come so soon.  And on top of that, it’s not even human.  He or she is now an ‘it’.  And it is in the form of a Leap Frog LeapPad 2.

We’ve had the LeapPad 2 for over a year.  My side of the family gave it to Worm as a gift.  I watched for that entire year plus as he would take the stylus and stab the poor thing in the screen, swing it overhead by the cord, and smash it into the coffee table repeatedly.  It survived.  (It may be able to last through a nuclear winter.)  Last week, Worm actually started to use it as directed.  He loves the thing now.  A lot.

So, yesterday we’re driving along and Worm’s sitting in the back playing his game console.  We go over some bumpy road in my truck while he’s trying to draw some figures on the LeapPad screen.  Apparently, the bumps were enough to shake up our relationship.  Being the loquaciously honest son he is, Worm got something off his chest.

“Honeydaddy, I love you.  But now I only sort of love you because I can’t do my Leap Frog when you drive over bumpy bumps and that makes me sad.  Now I only sort of love you.”

asdfads

This is what love looks like, I suppose.

I know technology is replacing humans on some level, but they’re already operating on the emotional level?

Gavin – 32; Honeydaddy – 20 (I’m almost obsolete…and he’s only 3.5 years old.  When computers start changing diapers, I’ll be completely useless.  *Sigh*)

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Categories Play

He’s Potty Trained and Sometimes I Wish He Wasn’t

June 10, 2014 //
0

(Did the gripping title just force you to click through to find out more?  Huh?  Did it? Did it?)

I miss the fresh smell of warm poopie in the morning.  It feels like yesterday that I’d pull those diaper straps down and unfold a lovely brown (or blue, or green, or even mustard) pile of pure aromatic wonderment.  I miss the feel of a ripe turdling through the moist bum wipe cloth.  Oh, and the unanswered questions I’d have for myself after the changeup. “Where’s that smell coming from?  Did I miss a spot?  How did I get dirt under my fingernail when I haven’t been outside?”  Those experiences are almost gone between Worm and I.

As beautiful as it sounds, there is no joy in changing a diaper.  Until your kid is being potty trained.  Then you realize the convenience of that uber-absorbant miracle piece of ingenuity between your baby’s legs.

I was under the impression that potty training was the way to go.  Over two months ago, the wife and I started out by enticing the Worm to use the big toilet by trading toys for turds.  That worked for a few weeks and the novelty wore off.  We moved to the popular M&M method.  Two for pee pees, five for poopies, seven for anything over a foot long.  That also lasted a few weeks.  The training technique that worked for us ended up being the strong arm method.

“Listen up punk!  If you don’t go potty right now, I’m going to squeeze you and shake you until it all falls out.  Capeesh?”

It had a marked influence on Worm’s desire to use the toilet.  A Joe Pesci voice seemed to add additional scare-ability and was the proverbial icing on the cake.  (It gives us a whopping 87% compliance rate.)

Worm hasn’t had an accident for over a month now.

Yeah, he wears diapers at nap time and bed time just in case.  Though, they haven’t been necessary.  Also, Worm’s been so compliant with using the toiled at school, the teachers have recommended that he wear underwear instead of pull-ups.

Life’s good, eh?  Wrong.

We all know that performing (as if it’s like tightrope walking or juggling) number 1 or number 2 requires the body to be in a somewhat relaxed state.  Well, when is Worm relaxed?  Around nap and bed times.  So what does that translate to?

I get woken up at 6:30 am (sometimes earlier) to the pleasant shrill of “HONEYDADDY! I NEED TO GO PEE PEE AND POOPIE!”

Awesome.  There goes my beauty sleep.  The yelling also wakes up Mushie and the dogs.  Now everyone’s up and making noises.

I put Worm down for nap in the afternoon and ninety minutes later, when he should be asleep, I hear “HONEYDADDY!  I NEED TO GO PEE PEE AND POOPIE!”

Awesome.  And then we get to start the nap time routine all over again.

Bedtime comes at 8:30pm.  When he’s finally slowed down enough to lay down in his bed, he suddenly bolts upright from a turtle head poking out.  “HONEYDADDY!  I NEED TO GO PEE PEE AND POOPIE!”

Awesome.  Now he actually falls asleep somewhere between 9:30 and 10pm.  Hooray for potty training.

Right now, I’d trade a couple of diapers for the 3 hours of additional potty effort every day.  When do the benefits of it all start to kick in again?

Oh Glorious Mornings...

Oh Glorious Mornings…

Gavin – 31; Honeydaddy – 20 (The best way to drive one to insanity is to deprive them of sleep.  I’m halfway to the destination.  Thanks Worm!)

 

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Categories Education

The Jalapeno Experiment

May 21, 2014 //
0

The Smushter likes to eat!  And that’s great, but what’s more important here is that I LOVE to eat.  When I’m hungry and can finally fix myself a meal (which usually happens after I’ve spent 90 minutes feeding the helpless ones and my stomach starts to digest itself), I make just enough food to get satiated.  No more.  No less.

I prepare to sit down and eat a peaceful, stress-free meal at the coffee table in the living room.  (The words “small children” and “peaceful” have never gone together in our house, but on the days full of morning beers, I feel like I’ve got Jedi powers…and I try to use the force to merge the two.)  As soon as my plate clunks the coffee table and my butt hits the floor, the vultures children congregate, one performing FDA inspection of the plate contents, and the other poking my food to make sure it’s dead.

The older “inspector” doesn’t usually grab pieces of food off my plate.  He’s mostly just looking at it.  But 9 out of 10 times, my food doesn’t pass his standards and the punishment has him climbing on my back with arms wrapped around my neck choking me into unconsciousness oblivion.  Even that’s not that terrible, because when enough oxygen gets back into my head, I can shovel a morsel into my mouth.  It’s the younger “food critic” that’s worse.  She’s uncouth, picking and poking at my dishes.  She tests and taints my meal when it doesn’t meet her approval.  And her reaction is always the same.  She pulls the wet, half-chewed food out of her mouth and places some on my plate.  Then she spits the rest of the pieces onto my face and food in disgust.

It was time to put my foot down.  If I didn’t stop the madness, I’d die of starvation.  (I guess I could die by asphyxiation, but that’s much worse than keeling over with an empty stomach.  Much worse.)  So I devised a plan…mainly against the Smush, because she can ruin a whole meal for me just by spitting on it.  I decided that I’d buy some spicy potato chips and bait/entice/lure her to pick and poke away at my food.   When she loads up her mouth, she gets hit with a blast of mouth burning discomfort.  (Yes, I even amaze myself with my own cleverness!)

Let’s just say that my ruse worked like a charm!  Smush grabbed a fistful of chips off my rigged plate and got a faceful of hotness!  I couldn’t help but fall over laughing at the look on her face.  That’ll teach her to just put any and everything in her big boca!

What better way to stop a baby from grabbing handfuls of food from your plate than clubbing her?  The answer is clearly jalapeno potato chips.  It’s a technique that’s not in the textbooks, but it’s great for those parents that just want to eat in peace…or some semblance thereof.

 

Ha ha ha ha! Now, who has the last laugh! I'm still on top, Mushy Mushy!

Ha ha ha ha! I Got Ya, Mushy Mushy!

Gavin – 30; Honeydaddy – 20 (I know it’s a win against Smush, but I’m giving myself the point here.  I’m just too excited and tickled about this!)

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Categories Food

Who’s Walking Now?

May 9, 2014 //
0

It was inevitable.  The Smush Monster is spending more time on two legs than four now.  She began her bipedal trundle over a month ago, and as with all things Smushie, she bulldozed over toys, insects, and sometimes brother, with little regard to their respective muffled screams beneath her pudgy, sweaty feet.

If you recall, months ago I was overwhelmed with the idea that my little girl NEEDED to walk as soon as possible.  With her walking, I could lessen my burden by about 25 lbs and free up an arm or two for carrying other things (or just letting them sway in the breeze like normal people do).  So I put Smush through a sort of baby boot camp with pushups, wheelbarrows, squats, and situps.  She added strength, stamina, and muscle to her chubby and ‘oh so cuddly’ little body.  But, my efforts have recently turned into more of an exercise for me than for she.  (I know it’s supposed to say ‘her’, but ‘she’ rhymes with ‘me’ and I like it!)

I thought I’d eventually take both my kids for leisurely strolls in the park, free from the three-wheeled BOB that limits our mobility, flexibility, and creativity.  We’d play with the freedom bestowed upon young minds and bodies.  (When I say ‘we’, I really mean ‘they’.  I’m getting old!)

The truth is that I’m chasing the walking version of Smushie everywhere and sacrificing my body to minimize the potential perils of her climbing up the stairs, swinging from handrails, and jumping from the curbs.  She may be physically ready to walk, but her brain isn’t quite ready to take on other functions.  Her brain power is spent doing a lot of this:   “Left foot forward.  Now, right foot forward.  Hey, a tree!  Um, which foot goes next again?  System error.  Shutting down legs.  *PLOP*

Now I’m looking into exercises that will keep Smushter from walking so quickly:  overfeeding her, tying a mini parachute to her back, binding her feet, etc.

There’s an old adage that goes “Teach a baby to talk, and you’ll get a headache.  Teach a baby to walk, and you’ll get a backache.  But teach a baby to stay in a confined place and neither cry nor try to escape, and you’ll have found nirvana.”  (No, the other nirvana.)

The real lesson for me is that I should have just let things happen on their own.  I could have allowed her mind ample opportunity to wire itself for some measure of self-preservation before her body was able to find harm’s way.  Stupid, stupid, stupid….me.  Whoops, gotta go!  I’ve got to go save her from walking straight off the stairwell…again…for the eighth time…today.

 

Smush, Now That You're Trapped, I Can Get Some Work Done! See You Tomorrow!

Smush, Now That You’re Trapped, I Can Get Some Work Done! See You Tomorrow!

 

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Categories Play

It’s a Three-Peat!

April 14, 2014 //
2

The Worm is officially fwee years old!  Wow, time flies when you’ve got kids and they suck you into their personal black hole time-space vortex twenty-four hours a day!  I can remember the night he was born, with me standing ready to push him back in until the clocked ticked past April Fool’s, me arguing with the hospital staff about how their fetal monitoring equipment worked, and me wondering if Worm would look exactly like his dad or just 99%.  Ah, memories…

Two years ago, Worm’s first birthday party was spent with a whole lot of people.  It was a decently sized party with some invitees eager to see how much he’d grown in a year and others feeling socially obligated to honor our first successful reproduction of ourselves.  We went crazy with a theme and decorations and all sorts of minute details.  There could have been a thousand people in the room and I don’t believe the experience would have affected Worm any differently.  His poor brain was busy processing how best to get cake icing from the table to his belly without using his hands.  Everything else was insignificant.

This time, Worm knew the event was all about him.  I’d been told by other parents that it’s wonderful to see a child “get” that the party is all about him or her.  I, never having been that excited to play leading man at birthdays in general, had a hard time understanding what these parents meant.  Until I saw our little Wormie’s face last week!

Every mom and dad loves to see their children happy, especially when it doesn’t require monumental physical effort or gobs of money on their part.  We didn’t go crazy with decorations and food.  There was no dancing clown (if you didn’t include me).  There was no 30 foot tall inflatable theme park with water slide.  It was just an afternoon spent with some cool people hanging out on a warm spring day.  Sure, Worm was happy to be entertaining at his house.  But when the moment arrived for cake and candles, his mood heightened.  He filled up with (hopefully non-alcohol induced) giddiness.  He beamed when everyone sang the “Happy Birthday” song and he blew/spit out his birthday candle flame.  It was as touching for me to witness as it was for him to experience.  (Thanks to our family and friends that shared the day with us and with him.  I think it’s the first birthday that he will be old enough to remember!)

Worm is still at an age where he appreciates the little things in life…imported chocolates, fast cars, motorcycles, and women.  He’s growing out of toddlerhood and into quite a little boy.  At the party, Worm played with all the kids (even his little monster sister, Smushie), but another little girl was by his side almost the entire time.  Maybe it was the way they were gazing into each other’s eyes, or the way they were feeding each other cake at the table.  (It kind of reminded me of my wedding reception!)  I have an odd feeling they’re dating now or something.  I don’t really know, and I’m quite scared to ask because I’m not ready to deal with that yet!  So for now, I’m going to hold on to my little boy, close my eyes, and enjoy his moment of exuberant youth and innocence.  Because when I next open them, 20 years will have passed and the moment will be his wedding.

Worm, I Think it's a Little Early For You To Start Dating...Like 30 Years Too Early!

Worm, I Think it’s a Little Early For You To Start Dating…Like 30 Years Too Early!

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Categories Play

Hold Me, Honeydaddy!

April 1, 2014 //
2

Whoa, wait a second. That doesn’t mean what I thought it meant.

For men, there are a few unwritten rules about doing ‘number one’.

  1. Eyes on your own pee pee.
  2. Hands on your own pee pee.
  3. Aim directly at the target (preferably a toilet).
  4. Laughing and giggling during the event will not be tolerated.  (Sure, peeing is fun.  You’ve got a water hose attached to your body.  But it’s really quite awkward when other people can hear you.  Trust me.  I know.)
  5. Don’t try advanced techniques unless you’re ready to clean up afterwards.

All 5 of the cardinal rules were violated in one fell swoop.  How do I know?  I was one of the violators.  It wasn’t my fault.  The Worm made me do it.

A few weeks ago, Worm came home telling me how his best friend at school showed him how to pee standing up.  Wondering how a toddler that recently learned to stand and chew simultaneously could be so insightful, I was game to find out more.

“Show me.” I said.

Worm ran over to the toilet.  I followed quickly after, eager not to miss any part of this new trick.

*SNAP*  *ZIP* Pants fell to his ankles.  Two quick yanks on the diaper tabs and it hit the floor.

Then, I watched in horror (violation of rule #1)  as Worm leaned against the toilet, put his hands on his hips (violation of rule #5) and just let it rip (violation of rule #3)!  All the internet stories of kids spraying themselves, the furniture and unwary bystanders flooded my mind.  In order to save myself and our bathroom from urinihilation, I did what any handsome red-blooded hero with catlike reflexes and chiseled muscles would do.  I lunged towards the little pistol.  I grabbed it (violation of rule #2) and turned it squarely at the toilet bowl.  It fired off round after round for what seemed like eternity.  The whole time, a squeaky little stream of “heh heh heh” (violation of rule #4) filled the air.

Thankfully, I was able to save us and the bathroom from catastrophe.

My takeaways from this were:

  • Worm’s friend may be missing a couple of key parts of his method.
  • Worm’s friend should probably get certified or something before he starts teaching.
  • Worm’s friend’s dad must be a “hands free” kind of guy.  (Kids don’t just pick this kind of stuff up without seeing someone else do it.)
  • This is the first of those “Honeydaddy, look what I learned at school today!” moments.  I need to be better prepared.
  • I don’t really like holding anyone else’s pee pee.  (I’m thinking I’ll use pliers in case this happens again.)
Practice. Practice. Practice. Sometimes, I Miss the Target! And I've Been Doing This for Years!

Practice, Practice, Practice. Sometimes, I Miss the Target! And I’ve Been Doing This for Years!

Gavin – 30; Honeydaddy – 19 (I’m taking the point here.  Mainly because I saved us all from getting peed on.  I’ll probably be giving the point back when we are trying this in a dirty, public bathroom…)

 

 

 

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Categories Education

The Incentive to Poop

March 10, 2014 //
0

I’m getting tired of doing this.  My hands are chapped from wipes.  My nose hairs are singed from the stench.  The joints in my old fingers ache as they struggle to clasp yet another clean diaper closed.  (Ok, it’s not that bad…but you get my drift.)

I change about 8 diapers a day now, down from a high of 12.  I estimate that since the Worm was born, I’ve changed 8000 diapers.  Some of them in under 20 seconds flat!  (Pat myself on the back.)

The Worm is pushing 3 years old.  It’s time for him to be potty trained.  The little man could have learned a year ago, if Steph and I were more diligent about it.  But we both thought that after Worm showed interest that he would gravitate towards the loo posthaste.  We were wrong.

Worm is sensitive.  He needs encouragement rather than scolding and the embarrassment that typically follows.  So my idea of putting Worm in underwear, taking him to a public location, letting him wet himself and then ridiculing him to the point that he wouldn’t make the same mistake twice didn’t get approval from the ‘Boss’.

So she came up with a better idea.  Get Worm to use the potty and give him a prize for his accomplishment!

It’s a potty for prizes game.  Steph’s first version:

Pee = One Sticker. Poo = Two! Collect Six to Win a Prize!

Pee = One Sticker. Poo = Two! Collect Six to Win a Prize!

It’s a piece of paper with animal stickers to the untrained eye, and a game to rival the likes of Monopoly to the keen.   We moved to version two when Steph realized that Worm would be using the potty more than six times in his life.  We swapped a whiteboard for paper and magnets for stickers.

The Six Golden Rules of the Game:

  1. Every pee pee on the potty = 1 box filled.
  2. Every poop on the potty = 2 boxes filled.
  3. Every six boxes that get filled = 1 small toy prize!
  4. Every hand that goes into the dirty toilet = 1 box taken away.
  5. Every poop nugget that gets fished out of the toilet = 2 boxes taken away.
  6. Every toilet paper roll that gets unraveled = early bedtime.

We like it so far!  It gives Worm incentive to use the toilet (since a wet, stinky butt isn’t motivation enough).  He gets something for his efforts and he helps keep one more diaper out of the trash bin!

Sometimes Two is Better Than One!

Sometimes Two is Better Than One!

Gavin – 30; Honeydaddy – 18 (I know it was Steph’s idea, but without me, her muse, she wouldn’t have been inspired to come up with it!  I’m taking the point!)

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