Archives for posts with tag: Parenting

I feel like a stranger to my own blog!  It’s been way too long since I last posted.  Anyhow, imagine that I wrote this a couple weeks ago and it will give me a chance to catch up.

Smushie is now straightleggedly upright.  She’s standing!

And that would be a great thing, if she wouldn’t try grabbing all the new items within her reach…such as loose articles on the coffee tables, end tables, TV entertainment center, couch, book shelf bottoms, my desk drawers.  We are being forced to live above the 36″ line.

The girl is strong.  She does sit-ups while we change her diapers in the morning.  (No joke.)  She slaps her mom and I around when we aren’t paying attention to her.  When close enough, Smush rips our hair out for giggles.  So it wasn’t much of a surprise for her to power herself to vertical on her own so soon.  (The Worm didn’t walk until almost 18 months.)

There are two camps of parents.  The first group, praises their child’s accomplishments as soon as it happens the first time.  For example:

Parent:  “Son, can you count to 5 for me?”

2-year old Son: “Fee One Fuh One Fie Nine!”

Parent: “Oh my god!  He just calculated pi to the 5th significant digit!  We’ve got to send him to Harvard THIS YEAR”

Then there’s the second group of parents, that REALLY need to see the ‘first time’ a few more times to believe it really happened.

Parent:  “Ok sweetie, I’ve isolated any outside forces that may alter your chances of success at riding your bike.  There’s no wind today.  I checked that the pavement is perfectly level and the gravitational pull of the moon on your bicycle is negligible.  A bike that is coasting is not really riding, right?  Are you ready to try?”

2-year old daughter:  “Ahhhhhhhhh! I did it!”

Parent:  “I don’t know, sweetie.  Can you try that two more times?  The first time may have been a fluke!”

I fit squarely into the second camp.  Why?  Because if I falsely told family and friends that my Smushie-kins was standing before she was able to, it could place undue mental stress, anguish, and performance pressure onto her conscience.  I don’t know of any 10-month old that can withstand the anxiety!  (Though, I’m sure some pharmaceutical company already has drugs out to “fix” this infant psychosis…sorry, I digress.)

Since I couldn’t allow my child to bear the burden of my foolish fatherly pride, I drew a line in the sand for me her.  Made this milestone more concrete.  Tangible.

I, hereby, declare the 5-second standing rule.  Any baby not standing for a time equal or greater to five seconds is not considered standing, but probably being held up by wind, pole, starched clothing, snake oil, or other  artificial cause other than self-contained muscles.

And she did it!

To help other compulsive parents, I’ve decided to start standardizing all of the child development milestones and compile them into a book I’m writing “How to Know for Certain When Your Child is Making Progress – A Book For Neurotic Parents That Want to Quantify Everything and Leave Nothing to Chance, Luck, or Time”

I Think a Straightjacket is Easier Than Babyproofing the House from Smush.

I Think a Straightjacket is Easier Than Babyproofing our House for Smush.

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!

This post was going to be about a neglected little potty that spent its entire life collecting dust in the corner of the kitchen.  And one day, all of that changed.

I’m not sure what got into his head, but the Worm was so excited to use the potty last week, he almost peed himself.

Me:  “Worm, what are you doing?”

Worm:  “Me want to be nakie nakie!”

Me:  “Ok, let me take off your shirt and pajama pants.”

Worm:  “Nooooo! Nakie, nakie!”

Crap!  (Not literally.)  Maybe we can do this for a few minutes and when he’s distracted, I’ll put the diaper back on…

The lithe leprechaun became giddy, arms (and other appendages) flapping about as he hurdled the couch cushions and zipped through the air in unclothed hysteria.  I gave chase, holding a clean diaper and hoping to catch any pee or poo that could escape Worm’s little body should he laugh a wee (literally) too hard.  Ten minutes in, I was exhausted.  The only real solution was to break out the potty, pitch it to Worm like a used car salesman, and hope he would take to it like a duck to water.

Me:  “Worm, check this out!  This kiddie potty is so ergonomic, and aerodynamic I might add!  It’s the perfect blend of form and function!  Porcelain white plastic!  No-slip, high performance rubber feet to keep that potty planted, even during an earthquake!  I’m going to put it over here in the middle of the kitchen floor, so you can observe it from every angle!  If you want to take it for a test ride, just hop in right here and fill it up.  Go ahead, kick the proverbial tires!”

Worm:  “There’s no handle.”

Me:  “Well, it still works.  It’s an eco-friendly design that automatically senses pee and poo.  Then it flushes without water.”

Worm:  “DADDY!?”

Me:  “Ok, I have to empty the potty into the big toilet by hand.  But it’s still cool, right?  Plus, you’ll use the potty like Honeydaddy!”

Worm:  “Oooooh  Kaaaay!”

I could sell snow to an Eskimo.  Sort of…

Worm:  “It’s dirty.”

Me:  “Dude, the stuff you’re going to put inside will be much dirtier that those measly dust specks.”

The kid will pick up food off the sidewalk and eat it, but all of a sudden now he’s questioning the cleanliness of his kiddie toilet?

Toddlers and rational thought seldom collide.  I crossed my fingers that not a drop of his body fluids would fall on the floor…for the next 2 hours.

Worm ended up using the potty three times with no assistance or help from me!  He even brought the full potty to me to show me what he made!  (Gross, but at least he sink his hands into it and splash it around.)

All in all, it was a very good learning experience for both of us…well, mainly for me.  I didn’t pressure him to use the potty.  I gave him the choice to pee in the warm, safe, comfy, clean, lovely, free-lollipop-dispensing potty or pee in the cold, drab, spider-infested, boogie-man-lurking corner.  The choice was easy for him to make.

Too bad his desire left after the sun went down.

I’ll always remember this day, not because he was potty training himself, but because he rubbed his bare bum on my head twice when I wasn’t looking.  (I washed my hair about 10 times that night.  It still doesn’t feel clean.)  That whole day was more fun than I expected it to be (except for the bum-hair part).  We’re so close to getting him out of diapers, I can almost taste it!  Well, I can at least touch my hair and smell it…

Come On Worm!  You Can Doooo Doooo it!

Come On Worm! You Can Doooo Doooo it!

…for a few days while we go to my best friend’s wedding.  We are pretty sure we will return for you, for our magic 8-Ball keeps telling us to “most likely” come back.  If something ties us up forever, we made out a will (no, seriously).  I know you may have your heart set on the dogs raising you in case we depart, but legally it can’t be done.  We tried to convince the judge that you two are closer in nature to hairy beasts and would be best raised in a situation (such as in the backyard with the dogs, Frodo and Duncan) where cleanliness and verbal communication were kept to a minimum.  He declined our request.  (That really tipped the scales in favor of us coming back to get you…if the government won’t let our pooches raise you, we will, even if we have to raise from the dead!)

I’ve just got a couple of things to tell you before we drop you off to terrorize play with the grandparents.

Worm, your grandparents are old, especially grandpa.  Your screaming may make my ears bleed, but it may not be enough for pops to hear what you’re saying.  Since he’s too stubborn to get a hearing aid, you may need to grab his ear and yell directly into it (kind of like how you speak to your sister).

Smushie, there is no dog bowl at the GP’s house for you to drink out of.  You may have to hydrate with baby formula instead.  Also, the GP’s don’t have any dog toys for you to chew on.  It may pose a problem, but I’m sure you will find some power cords or old house slippers to bite into.

Worm, I don’t know how you’re going to manage at bedtime.  I think the old folks go to bed before you do.  So if you would kindly tuck them in and sing a song for them, they may fall asleep faster.  Grandma needs to have the TV on to watch in her sleep (I’m not sure how that works), so just turn the volume down on the ‘mote.  Try to put yourself to bed at a reasonable hour, possibly before midnight.

Smushie, there’s a lot to explore in the grandparents’ house.  I suggest wearing a helmet for when you pull the doilies, table runners, and placemats down.  A lot of grandma’s knick knacks are delicate and your head may leave a dent in some of them.  Plus, grandma thinks that she moved all of the decorations to a higher location.  I’m somewhat concerned about this because even though you’re almost two and a half feet tall, you’re almost as tall as she is.

Worm, make sure Smush doesn’t put anything in her mouth that isn’t food.  Also Wormie, don’t push your sister into the walls, doors, floors, toilet, etc., basically don’t push her into anything not resembling a couch.  That’s pretty much all I got.  I want you, Worm, to love the GP’s like you love eating gummy bunnies.  Smushie, I want you to love them like you love…well…you love everything.  So just keep the status quo!

While we’re away from you guys, we’ll be:

  • Sitting down for dinner (without having you and your sister crawling on top of me, grabbing my plate, spitting in my food, putting your hands in my glass of drinking water, or any combination of these things.)
  • Going out to eat and actually enjoying a hot, nice, hot meal (did I mention hot? As in, I’ll get to eat as soon as the food is served? Yay!)
  • Sightseeing (and seeing more than just cigarette butts, candy wrappers, and sprinkler heads on the ground)
  • Waking up to birds chirping (and not to blood-curdling screams from either of you at 6am)
  • Listening to music (rather than the Curious George theme over and over each day)
  • Holding each others hands (instead of holding you, your sister, your bike, your helmet, your wagon, your cup, and your diaper bag all at the same time)

I know it sounds like we’ll be having more fun without you, than with you.  Well….it’s true!

I will miss you two for a while, but then I’ll adapt lots and it will be very strange being without my babies for 3 whole days.  (It’s the longest I’ll have ever been away from you.)  It will be a good test for me before we send you off to boarding school to see what life will be like when you start going to elementary school.  Be good to your grandparents and uncle Faldo, for we will be back to see them again at Christmas!

This is the Cheapest Playpen we found!  U-Haul - $3.  Fits Two Children.

The Cheapest Playpen We Found! U-Haul – $3. Fits Two Children.

…our candy haul would be huge!

I looove Halloween.  It’s my favorite holiday.  The candy is the best part, but I’m too old (and have been for some time) to seriously knock on doors for any of that stuff anymore.  Last year, Steph and I took the Worm (and a still-baking-in-the-oven Smushie) out.  I went as a businessman-turned-worn-out-stay-at-home-dad.  My disheveled hair, unkempt beard, stained gray sweatpants and sandals garnered me zero treats, even though the idea was original and my garb, tres authentique.  (A bum on the street did feel sorry for me, though.  He tossed me a nickel and half a jelly sandwich to raise my spirits.)  Our stroll around the block (without our generous friend) brought me back to the good old days.

I miss my prepubescent Halloween excursions where I’d hang out with friends all evening and come home just before midnight with the fruits (yeah, ‘fruits’) of my labor, a pillowcase full of yummy, gummy, gooey, chocolatey, fudgy sweets.  I still remember getting the post-Halloween sugar rush that gave me powers to bounce off bedroom walls, leap over creeks in a single bound, and pedal my bike through my neighborhood for hours with no rest.  I was a superhero every November.

I want that feeling again. (Is this my mid-life crisis?)  And this time, I am prepared to use my daughter as a pawn in my plot to relive some of my childhood!

Kit-Kats!  Reese’s!  Blow-Pops!

Airheads, Nerds and Pop-Rocks!

Gummi-Bears!

I don’t cares!

Gimme all you got!

If I can get the Smushels to stand all by herself in front of a door wearing a cute costume, she’ll score some serious loot.  That’s certain.  Who wouldn’t want to treat a sweet little baby showing off her best trick?  On the other hand, if I’m holding Smush as we go up to knock on doors, she’ll get worthless smiles and a bunch of un-belly-filling “Aw, what a cute baby!” looks.  People will think she’s too young to eat junk food and withhold their delectable bounty.  I think any of us that went trick-or-treating on Halloween knows that the amount of candy you get is inversely proportional to your size (and/or amount of facial hair).  Smushie is at the prime size to rake in some serious junk food for us, but only if she’s in a vertical position.  So I’m working on her balance skills, Bela Karolyi style, which means 8 hours a day on a balance beam.  (Wobbling is fine.  It will actually enhance the candy receiving effect.)

If you’re thinking that I’m taking advantage of my daughter, you’d be wrong.  We have a deal.  She poops.  I wipe.  She pulls my neck skin.  I scream.  This is just an addendum to our current contract:

CLAUSE 49 – Smush works for Halloween candy.  I eat it.

Besides, what candy can she eat with only two teeth?  The single possibility is the “candy that melts in your mouth and not in your hand” (and that’s a choke hazard for her age group).  Everything else requires some choppers (or dentures), neither of which she has quite yet.  So, to make sure our hard-earned chocolates don’t go to waste, I’ll do the honors!

Is this going to be the greatest Halloween in 20+ years for me?  Hell yes.  I’m only telling you guys this because YOU CAN’T STOP ME!  Halloween is back for Honeydaddy!  And for at least the next two years (hopefully three), Smushter will work hard at the end of October, only to wake up in November and not remember a thing.  All I have to do now, is convince Smush that the ground is a stable platform (unless there’s an earthquake).  She just has to stand there in costume and look pretty.  We’ve got less than a week before I’m literally taking candy from a baby…mu hu ha ha ha!

Smush, You Better Bring Your A-Game on Halloween!

Smush, You Better Bring Your A-Game on Halloween!

The Thinker:  “I wonder if that carpet runner is digestible.  Hell, I wonder if it’s even biodegradable.”

The Doer:  “Nom! Nom! Nom!”

Guess which of my kids is which?  Is it a dilemma?  I’m not sure yet.  My boy is so cautious and calculated that it scares me how precise he can be with his words and actions.  And my daughter is so reckless and unobservant that it scares me how fearless she can be in exploring her surroundings.

Basically, Worm and Smush give me gray nose hairs.  (If they were only more like their dearest Honeydaddy, I would be so much less stressed out.  Where did I go wrong?)  These two have fallen far from the apple tree and in opposite directions.

Personally, I can relate to a calm, collected child.  But, my brain just can’t make heads or tails of our pocket-sized daredevil.  She’s got no sense of self-preservation and it drives me crazy!!!  (I used to be a believer in Darwin’s evolution, but I’m afraid that evolution would happen without the Smushter if I didn’t intervene twice a day!)

I know she’s only 9 months old, but isn’t protecting oneself supposed be hardwired in the brain?  I have a feeling that Smushie doesn’t think too much about anything.  From my vantage point, she pauses briefly with a look of “I think I can eat that!” before she sticks whatever it is (today, it was the kitchen trash can lid) in her mouth to see if it fits/digests/tastes good.  That only describes the oral fixation.  There’s a whole diving head first off of high ledges chapter as well.

Then I’ve got the Worm, who has to see 100 kids check that gravity works from the top of a slide before he will attempt it himself.  No amount of ‘Ritos or gummy bunnies will convince him to go sooner.  All the boxes must be checked off his list (he gets this from his mother) before Wormie puts his own body in jeopardy.  For if gravity doesn’t work for the split second he is on the slide, he will only have himself to blame.

Our life is getting much more interesting, and twice as busy.  I’m trying to keep up my blog and I know I’m way behind!  Two mobile kids really makes for a lot of eye strain and back pain for me.  It’s a good thing I own an all natural topical pain relief company.  Click Here.

If there ever was a picture to accurately describe my two little loves in a thousand words, this is it!

I Think the Picture Says it All.

I Think the Picture Says it All.

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?