Victoria Day Weekend In Two Acts

It was Victoria Day weekend up here in the great white north (and we spent it with my parents out of town), so I apologize to those of you who came by on Monday looking for a new post. I tend not to put anything new up on holidays for two reasons: 1) because there is a significant drop-off in readers on those days, meaning that some (many) people would miss that post and 2) because I spend those days with my family, like weekend days. Instead of a typical weekend recap, I will give you two anecdotes from my visit to my parents. Without further ado, I bring you my weekend in two acts.


Bed Of Roses by Screaming Trees

Act The First
Wherein I Remove A Headboard
For as long as MTM and I have been together, the spare room at my parent's house that used to be my bedroom has held a queen bed with a hideous faux brass pipe headboard. It was not only ostentatious, but also quite annoying, as every move you made in the bed would cause the headboard to make such a loud noise that when I turned over in my sleep, my wife would awake with a start.

With our second child coming, and the space in the room limited, we opted to try and convince my parents to remove the headboard. They agreed, and so I grabbed my dad's screwdriver and a pair of channel locks and went to work. As I started trying to remove the six screws from the frame, I realized that only two were part of the original assembly. The other four were what we call in my house a "Dad Special".

(A "Dad Special" is when my father decides something needs improving, and goes about implementing his "improvements". For example, he once decided that a toilet seat needed more rests on the underside to support it on the toilet, so he used the plastic feet from Ikea that have a tack's point (the kind you can push into press board with a light hammer). Unfortunately, the tacks were longer than the thickness of the seat, so that there were small, half centimetre long nails sticking out of the seat side of the toilet seat.)

In the case of the headboard, my father had used two additional screws per side to attach it. But, those screws were too long, so he snipped the ends off with pliers after he tightened the nuts, leaving a misshapen tip that could not be threaded through the nut to remove it. So, off to the shed I went to grab the hacksaw. On my way, I passed my parent's neighbour, to whom I said, "If you can believe it, I need this" (the hacksaw) to remove a headboard." He replied, "If your father installed it, I totally believe you. Have fun."

It took me nearly an hour start to finish to remove the headboard.

Act The Second
Wherein We Drug Our Daughter
About 30 minutes into our drive home, the munchkin pipes up, "Mommy, my tummy hurts." Having experienced this before, we suspected it was motion sickness (I am so often a victim to this that it isn't even funny) and offered her a children's Gravol which she took. We stopped at the next rest station and about five minutes after we were back on the road, she was out.like.a.light. About an hour in, she awoke, groggily sang a verse of the Doodlebops song that was playing, and then fell asleep again.

She repeated that two more times (awaken, sing, doze off), and slept for over two hours. When she awoke, she was disoriented and literally looked like I used to on a Friday night in university after hanging out with the guys who smelled like patchouli all the time. We fed her a snack (it was long past lunch by this point) and drove to East Side Mario's.

This is where the story stops making sense. The disorientation? The grogginess? Uh, yeah. She sat down at the table, took the crayon they gave her and drew a picture of MTM, complete with hands, fingers, feet, toes, teeth, and hair (easily her most detailed picture yet). And then, because our jaws weren't slack enough, she printed "MOMOMOMOMOMO" across the top of the page, just so we knew it was MTM she was drawing.

Apparently, there are benefits to doping up one's kids. Who knew?



I also have a new Daditorial up, where I look at how China's one child policy makes the earthquake aftermath that much worse for some parents.

About A Boy

Yes, it is the third post in a row about the pregnancy. I know some of you are probably getting sick of reading about it, and to you I apologize for the singular subject matter of late. It will not be like this for much longer, I promise.


Boys Don't Cry by The Cure

Yesterday I said that I wanted to take some time to properly compose my thoughts before I posted about the revelation I received Wednesday afternoon: that, in all likelihood, the baby in my wife's uterus is a boy.

When we were expecting the munchkin, I was so sure my wife was carrying a boy. I was quite literally shocked when the obstetrician announced that she was "not just a girl, but a girl and a half" (big baby). I was so confident that we were having a boy that I felt a little disappointed. (Of course I never said this to MTM at the time.) I got over it pretty quickly, because really, the munchkin was an amazing kid, and that is all that mattered.

But deep down, in places where I did not care to look often, I secretly longed for a boy. Sure, I doubted my ability to raise a boy (I've always gotten along better with women than men), but ultimately I wanted the chance to raise a boy into a good man; I wanted the chance for my surname to live on in Canada. And now I have that opportunity.

This unborn child (still can't bring myself to call him "son" due to ultrasound uncertainty) will have more in common with me than most realize. My mother was one of five sisters. She was also the first to have children. So, my arrival made me not only the first born son of my father, but also the first born son of my grandfather (who spent the evening I was born walking up and down his street yelling, "It's a boy! It's a boy!"), which is a big deal in Italian culture. My wife is one of two girls, no brothers. That means this child will be the first born son to my FIL as well as to me.

I am both excited and terrified at the prospect of raising a son. Terrified because I don't know if I will be a good enough example of a real man for him, and excited because I will have someone to indoctrinate into my love of Star Wars and Detroit sports teams. (Yes, technically my daughter can love these things too. However, it has been my experience that a male is more likely to find such things intoxicating.)

When I allow my mind to wander to the future, I see baseball games and sci-fi movie premieres. I see soccer (or hockey or football, if his mother can take their violent nature) practice and unwrapping massive plastic toy spaceships at Christmas time. I see myself watching the NFL playoffs under a warm blanket while he shovels the driveway.

I am eager to meet him and see him and hold him. And not just because he's a he, either. But because he's my kid.



For those interested, I also have a post over at my review blog for a blog blast entitled Grandma Needs a Gift Consultant.

Complete

When I wrote yesterday's post, I considered coming in today and telling you that the ultrasound had been canceled for some obscure (and barely plausible) reason, prolonging the suspense through the long weekend just for my own personal entertainment. But then I remembered just how gullible y'all are, and expected to feel guilty about yanking your chains.

We apparently have a very active fetus. When MTM had her first ultrasound, the munchkin and I waited outside in the waiting room for an inordinate amount of time because the baby would.not.stop.moving, making the technician's job of measuring that much more difficult. By the time we got to see the baby, I had gone through all the snacks, plus all the books twice: we were moments away from an a capella version of Under The Bridge when the receptionist (mercifully) called for us.

Yesterday was no different. The munchkin and I were out in waiting room for close to an hour before we got "the call". And when the technician tried to show us views of the baby (really preschooler-accessible stuff like a spine and the kidneys, so, you know, my daughter could see the baby) she did it while blocking the monitor from us. So bottom line, we saw very little of the fetus, between the technician's back and the high velocity rolling he favoured during the ultrasound.

Oh, did I just say "he"? I did, didn't I? Well, (a million disclaimers that no ultrasound can be 100% conclusive on gender aside) the technician believes that she saw a tiny, little (she emphasized this while looking at me... which was both annoying and awkward) pen!s. So, as best as modern science can tell us, we are having a boy.

I am stunned, relieved and disappointed. Stunned because, well, I just found out the big surprise of the delivery that isn't coming for another four and a half months. Relieved because now I have that heir my father so desperately wants. And disappointed because I cannot give my daughter the sister she so desperately wants.

I will write more about this revelation tomorrow. I want to collect my thoughts to be able to more clearly (and hopefully succinctly) express myself.

Also, I can offer no images today, sadly. The ultrasound place we went to doesn't "do" prints. They are giving us a CD with images on it next week, so we all just have to be a little more patient, OK?


What A Good Boy by Barenaked Ladies



There's also a new post over at Babies Online: "Everything Changes".

Final Thoughts Before We Find Out

This afternoon, MTM has her second ultrasound. Its medical purpose is for some additional (perfectly normal, nothing to worry about, happens all the time to many pregnant women) prenatal screening, but in our lives it is (possibly more importantly) all about two things: seeing the baby again and (hopefully) finding out whether its a boy or a girl.


Hey Boy Hey Girl by Chemical Brothers

I have written about my thoughts on gender on a another site recently, so if you really want the entire picture, you are probably better off reading that post first. (Quick aside: thank you to everyone here who has gone over there and commented. I am truly humbled by the support.)

None of what I wrote there has changed. (So why are you writing about it more?) (Give me a chance to get to that before you question me, OK?) (OK.) (Sheesh.) (Enough with this talking to yourself bit.) (OK.) However, I thought I would expand upon my thoughts a little on the precipice of gaining the knowledge, since writing about it tomorrow or at any point in the future would be affected (tainted?) by knowing the truth.

If baby #2 turns out to be a boy, I'm going to be happy. It means my surname has a chance of surviving in Canada (since at this point we don't even know the kid's gender, how can we know whether or not the kid will want children?). It also brings us a step closer to equality in numbers (our nuclear family, plus both extended families, are disproportionately female at present).

If baby #2 turns out to be a girl, I'm going to be happy. I have watched my sisters since I can remember (my younger sister is only 15 months younger than me, so I cannot remember a time when I didn't have two sisters), and have watched MTM and her sister for the nearly eight (eight?!?) years I have known her, and I have learned that the bond between sisters is special. So, to be able to give that gift to my daughter would make me elated. (Plus, the el cheapo in me knows we're buying fewer new clothes.)

Bottom line, whether we find out the baby is a she or a he, I'm going to be happy. I'm going to be happy because this baby will be loved by their big sister more than any baby sibling in the history of mankind, because this baby will have an amazing Mommy taking care of them, because this baby will be my baby. All the other facts are just incidental details.

More importantly to all of you, my reader friends, however, is whether or not we will be sharing this revelation publicly. We will definitely share it with the munchkin (who right now firmly believes that it's a girl; if she wasn't so fixated on this fact I'm not so sure we'd find out the gender this time either). And since she's three and a female and therefore incapable of keeping a secret, we (she) will likely tell our immediate families. But as for the interweb, well, we just don't know yet. If I were making this decision on my own, I think I'd tend towards telling, if only because once I find out it's going to be on my mind a lot, and will probably influence my writing. (There's a reason my posts were often lackluster in the early part of the year, before I could speak openly about the pregnancy.)

So tonight I get to see my second kid again (and potentially give them the what-for since I have yet to feel them kick). If we get an image to take home, and that image doesn't clearly display the type of plumbing (or it does and we've decided to tell), then I will scan it and share it tomorrow.

Wish us luck!

Shopping With The Munchkin

I mentioned last Monday that I went shopping with the munchkin for a Mother's Day present. I also said that the adventure warranted its own post. This is that post.


Can't Buy Me Love by The Beatles

Since my daughter is barely three, giving her free reign over choosing a gift for her mother would result in either something plastered with Dora's image all over it, or well, probably something with Dora on it. So, I sought some guidance from MTM as to what she would like that she thought the munchkin would enjoy choosing. She suggested summer pajamas, since she needs bigger ones now, and given that the munchkin was so successful with the flannel ones at Christmas, she figured it would work out.

So, off to the mall the three of us went. MTM had her own shopping to do, so we split up and arranged to meet later.

The munchkin and I stopped at Old Navy first, and the munchkin perused their offerings and found them decidedly lacking. "Nope. I want to go look at other stores."

We then made our way over to La Vie En Rose, where we had found the pajamas at Christmas time, figuring they'd have something good. On our way, we passed by La Senza, and the munchkin saw a pink set that she really liked. We went to the other store, and found a great style for pregnancy (stretchy pants and a babydoll style top) but not in MTM's size, and plus the munchkin nixed it immediately.

So, we went back to La Senza, and while we were exploring our options, the munchkin found slippers. Big, warm, fuzzy slippers that looked like Ugg knock-offs. She fell in love with them immediately, and wouldn't stop talking about them.

While we were taking a brief apple juice break, I called MTM and asked, "So, do you find your feet are cold in the summer, what with the A/C and all?"

"Not really. Why?"

"Oh, no reason. Thanks." Click.

We tried a couple maternity stores, but nothing worked for the munchkin. Finally, I asked her whether she saw any she liked. She said yes, and described La Senza to me as the place to find them. We went back there, she found the ones she liked, and we headed for the cashier.

"Oh no!" she said as we approached the counter.

"What?" I asked.

"We forgot the slippers. Mommy needs slippers."

"But munchkin, it's summer. Mommy doesn't wear slippers in summer."

"Oh no!" she said again, tears welling up in her eyes. "Mommy's feet will be SO cold!"

"Well, let's go see if we can find some." I am so screwed.

So she found the style she wanted, and we purchased them. She was literally beside herself with excitement, which made the fact that she had just manipulated me sting a little less.

On our way home, the munchkin piped up from the back seat, "Daddy, I'm not telling anything. I'm just asking a question."

"Uh, OK sweetheart."

"Mommy, why won't you wear the white jammies I got you for Christmas anymore? Don't you like them?"

MTM replied, explaining the weather change, and her increasing size, and the munchkin was satisfied with her answer.

But that question showed us just how thorough her thought process has become. She knew not to blow the surprise, but she also knew she had been through this exercise (pajama shopping for Mommy) once already and wanted to know why she was going through it again. Kids can be amazing sometimes.

Epilogue
On Monday, MTM took both the pajamas and the slippers back because neither fit. The munchkin seemed OK with this fact, as well as with the new pajamas (Winnie The Pooh) that MTM replaced them with. However, until I came home and negotiated a settlement, the munchkin had taken the bag hostage, insisting that since Mother's Day had passed, that the new pajamas were, in fact, for next Mother's Day.



I also have a new post up at Babies Online where I look at the question of dads in the delivery room.

Mother's Day Weekend

Today's song is not only appropriately titled for a recap of Mother's Day weekend, but it also comes from a band that features a friend of mine. They released what I think is a quite good CD in December, and I thought I'd give them a little promotion here. If you like this song, you can find them on myspace and on download.com.


Mother by Triptaka

On Saturday, my wife spent the day in the city (she had a baby shower for her cousin's wife in the morning/early afternoon and a surprise birthday party for her sister that night) while I had the munchkin solo. I'd like to tell you that there were the stereotypical hijinks often associated with a dad being left alone with his child, but there weren't.

I decided that to make "Daddy-Munchkin" day special, I would give my daughter the one thing every toddler (when did she get so big?) preschooler desires: control.

We started by letting her play Ecco Jr. on my PSP:


(Which, incidentally, she figured out pretty quickly, although at this point any "game" aspect was lost on her. All she wanted to do was make the dolphin jump out of the water.)

We hit the grocery store, where I let her choose whatever she wanted for lunch (outcome: raisin bagel, cooked turkey, a boiled egg, and lots of mozzarella cheese). While I was cooking her egg, we made a card for MTM. I will say nothing else, except that you have to click over and see what she produced. I was literally slack-jawed, as was MTM when she saw it. (Edit: you can see the images of the card here and here.)

After lunch, we took a nap together in our bed (she asked for the co-sleeping; I wasn't planning on napping), and then we wrapped her Mother's Day present. She instructed me (via "writing" on the gift) not to hide the present at the zoo. (OK. Point taken.)

When I prompted her for our next activity, without hesitation she asked to go to Toys R Us, so we did. We wandered around the store looking at all the "cool things" and came out with an inflatable Dora pool ring (a small price to pay to avoid the seemingly inevitable empty handed meltdown). She then chose Jack Astor's for dinner (because they serve KD; why, oh why, won't East Side Mario's, or Kelsey's, or Casey's serve macaroni and cheese?) where, for the first time in her life, she got a refill on her apple juice instead of the obligatory good parent water follow-up. (And right now, my wonderful, beautiful wife is sitting at home saying, "What?!?")

We came home, hung outside for a bit while she ate her cookie from the restaurant (OK, so maybe there's two reasons she picked that place) and then went inside where we proceeded to make use of a 20 inch flotation ring in our bathtub (it was even funnier than it sounds). We settled in for a little television before calling Mommy to say good night.

All in all, it was a pretty awesome Saturday. She lost it after calling Mommy before bed, but settled down by the time I'd finished two songs (Under The Bridge and Fly Me To The Moon, for those interested). She went to bed nicely, and called once before falling asleep for the night.

If only her mother went to bed so nicely. Instead, she came home a bit before midnight, all hopped up on the one glass of Coke (which apparently doubles as pregnant lady tequila) she had at the bar, and chewed my ear off talked for nearly an hour.

Sunday morning, we got up and let MTM sleep in while I made "special" eggs (basically they aren't really special, but the munchkin calls them that, so that's what their name is: I fry some meat - usually summer sausage or bacon - then scramble some eggs with milk and cheese and mix together and cook). Then we opened presents:


Those would be pink summer pajamas, and slippers. I will recount the shopping trip for those items tomorrow, as it is an adventure in itself.

I then took the munchkin for errands to give MTM a little time to shower, relax, and putter. We got some propane for the BBQ, and some flowers for Mommy (pink, to match the jammies). I had planned on getting wine as well, but the LCBO doesn't open until noon on Sundays (I know) so I did that after lunch while the girls were napping.

Sunday afternoon, my in-laws came over, as did my SIL and her boyfriend. I made dinner for everyone (marinated flank steak, carrot risoto, steamed green beans):


(Apparently, the tomatoes around the perimeter of the plate makes the dinner "gourmet". I thought it made for a waste of tomatoes.)

Then, once the family had left (after the Survivor finale had started, ahem) MTM and I settled in to watch a Parvati win, which made no sense to me, but whatever.

Also, I got so caught up in my little project on Friday that I forgot to say Happy Mother's Day to all the moms out there, so please accept a belated Happy Mother's Day from Tales From The Dad Side. I hope you had a great day yesterday.

SFD: Six Degrees

Today, dear reader, I am going to take you on an adventure through the blogosphere. However, (as some of you may have come to expect from me), instead of a bland list of links with some minor commentary from yours truly, we will follow the path I took from blog to blog. It will be a "six degrees of separation Kevin Bacon" sort of thing, except without the bacon (mmm... bacon...)

Also note that this isn't an exhaustive list of everyone who I read, or who reads this blog. It is a collection of blogs that I've been reading for a while that I wanted to trace a path to.



Around The World by Daft Punk

In the spring of 2006, my wife started blogging (on her old, now defunct, blog) but I didn't really read it, instead leaving her to write in peace. I had started and stopped several blogs previously, so I knew about the concept. Then, in April of 2006, I broke my ankle and was laid-up for a while. During that time, I happened to read an article in a parenting magazine about dad blogs, and got the link to Laid-Off Dad from there.

Having read all of Laid-Off Dad's posts (literally; I went to the first post and read from the beginning over the course of a week), I was eager to read something else, so I prompted my wife for suggestions. She hadn't blogged since my injury, being too busy, but she was starting up again, so I read her stuff. Then one day she added a blog roll, and from there I discovered Rebecca Eckler's blog, ninepounddictator.

From ninepounddictator, I learned about reading the comments to find new bloggers. Using this method, I found Haley and her blog, The Cheaty Monkey. Through Haley directly, I found her friend (and now mine) Ali of Cheaper Than Therapy and Chris of Rude Cactus (through whom I found his wife, Beth of so the fish said), and through Haley's blog roll I discovered Rockstarmommy (from whom I found steenface!, Dad Gone Mad and Chag of Cynical Dad [where I found Mama Tulip]).

It was around this time that Laid-Off Dad mentioned MetroDad in one of his posts, and made me an instant fan once I clicked through.

Back to my wife's blog roll I went, in search of more bloggers. There I found Her Bad Mother, who asked me to join Better Than a Playdate (at the time known as MommyBlogsToronto) where I met motherbumper and Redneck Mommy, and where Motherhood Uncensored found me (and subsequently I found her). In Her Bad Mother's comments I also found IzzyMom (who in turn invited me to write for Moms Speak Up, which is where Julie Pippert found me, and I her.)

Of course, not everyone I have "discovered" were part of an active attempt on my part. First, a friend of mine who I met through my sister years ago found me through a comment I left on ninepounddictator, and shared her blog, Becspeak, with me. Then, a reader of my wife's clicked over and became my first "stranger" comment: Miss Perfect of Working on Perfect. Finally, more recently, AndreAnna of Diary of a Modern Matriarch found me as well.

So there you have it: a brief tour of the blogosphere through my footsteps. If you are so inclined, take a moment to click through and read some of the blogs that are unfamiliar to you, and while you're there, leave a comment. Also, if anyone else out there wants to go through a similar exercise, I'd be fascinated to read it, so please leave a link in the comments, or email me, and I'll include it at the end of this post.

And for those interested, here is a graphical representation of my wife's "tree" (click to enlarge):





I also have a new post up at Babies Online, where I take a look at the changing nature of fatherhood.