Gavin’s two and a half months old in this picture and I guess the flash surprised him! One day, he’s going to discover this blog about him. And that will really surprise him!
You Lookin' at Me?
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With crawling comes exploration. Our little Christopher Columbus is curious about everything in the house. The fact that he can motor his little body towards just about anything he wants is a little unnerving…to us. To him, it’s freedom.
I understand the saying now about how “curiosity kills the cat”. Since Gavin’s curiosity has taken control, it has put him in some pretty precarious situations (that my keen agility and deftness, I might add, have rescued him from again and again). I worry about him falling off of stuff and getting hurt. I worry about him falling onto stuff and getting hurt. I worry about stuff falling on him and getting hurt (him, not the stuff).
Now, I have one more worry. Gavin eating stuff and getting hurt. It’s a whole other level of harmful stuff.
Worm puts everything in his mouth. I could show him a pile of dirt with sprinkles on top and he would probably eat it. (In fact, during a kiddie play date last month, we caught him impressing the ladies with his dirt eating machismo.) It doesn’t matter how disgusting it is, the object of interest must visit his drool cave and stay a while for Worm to befriend or condemn it. It’s the gateway to his brain. (I know I’m dating myself here, but do you remember in the movie Short Circuit where Johnny 5 keeps obsessing about “Input! Input! Input!”? It’s how Johnny 5 learns about his environment. Worm is doing the same thing, but with his mouth!)
And it’s my job to keep things like rat poison, toilet bowl cleaner, and bleach away from his pie hole. Recently, I’ve added dead bugs to the list.
We don’t see many bugs in San Diego. But, I’d venture to guess that most of the bugs in San Diego come to die either inside my house or on my back patio. (We don’t advertise as an insect mortuary, but we’ll take care of your insect’s funeral humanely and discreetly for a small fee. White glove service extra.) The most recent string of obituaries are these lovely millipede looking things.
Does Anyone Know What These Are?
And some of those bugs that didn’t quite die on my property have given their lives to Worm’s stomach. I don’t know what these bugs are, but one thing is for certain, they’re not gummy worms. Well, they can’t be LESS healthy than sugar, yellow #5, and gelatin. Maybe I’ll be proud that my baby loves this fresh, 100% organic and natural low-calorie treat. (Very Californian, eh?)
You can now say that you are what you eat, right Worm? (Hold on a sec while I go vomit…)
Puberty and hormones attack Gavin’s chin!
I'm So Distraught About My First Zit!
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
Related articles
- A More Awesome Way to Play Jenga (hackaday.com) This is very awesome.
Except that he doesn’t run yet…or crawl…or even roll over. This pic is of Gavin at 5 weeks old. Some of our friends and family bought these clothes as gifts (and I thank you) to make our baby look like a track star! Boy, does he look fast…
Check out my jogging pose!
This phoenix feels like it’s been whacked by a couple of tree branches on its way up. My head is still thumping (not pounding anymore) and my throat is swollen, but my first small victory is that I can breathe through my nose again. Blasted flu virus!
The flu has transformed me into a wheezing, bumbling tangle of limbs and slime. My senses, covered in phlegm, have allowed me to trip over my feet and almost eat my teeth. Twice. I’m not a happy camper. (Although, the added resonance of nasal congestion grants me a few days of Barry White bass vocals. But, I’m only swooning myself because Steph and Worm won’t come within earshot of their walking petri dish, formerly known as dad.)
On the first day of flu-ness, my germs have asked of me: 12 packs of saline, 11 foreign movies (preferably French), 10 rolls of tissue, 9 mandarin oranges, 8 coughs a minute, 7 bloody noses, 6 garlic cloves, 5 bowls of soup, 4 Chinese herbs, 3 onion slices, 2 gallons water, and 1 dark, moist room.
I’m lucky to have been sick during the time that Steph had off from work. For the past 4 days, she has handled all of Worm’s needs, while I lay in bed denouncing the Gods with “Why me?” between coughing fits. So there hasn’t been any me versus Gavin in the past few days because there was hardly a me present.
But, today Steph’s back at work and I’ve got to take hold of the baby again. (After 4 days out of view, he may have forgotten just who I am.) The situation freaks me out as I’m still not 100% well. In fact, my phlegm is still a ruddy yellow color with red sprinkles all over it. Am I contagious still? Probably. (And I can’t remember the last time the flu hit me for more than a couple of days. This flu’s been quite resilient.) I don’t want Gavin to get sick. So, how do I manage this feat? I’m sure other parents have been in a similar situation and have their personal way of dealing with spreading germs to the kids.
Then there’s my way.
How To Protect Your Baby From Catching Your Flu - Technique
How To Protect Your Baby From Catching Your Flu - Action
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...
Me vs. Gavin 