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Today is the last day of November, which means it is the last day of NaBloPoMo. I have to say I was worried when I started that the content would degrade or that I would digress into subjects I didn't want to, but I seem to have made it. I don't think I'll post every day from now on, but I do expect to post more often than I did previously. In honour of this, today's post will mark my daughter's 20 month birthday.
You, my little girl are no longer my baby. Sure, sometimes I will scoop you up and croon a cheesy version of Rock-A-Bye Baby while you stare at me and smile, but those moments are few and far between. You're a toddler now, able to do a whole lot more than I expected.
Locomotion
Walking and running are now things you (and your mother and I) take for granted. You just move along wherever you want to go. Unfortunately, usually that means upstairs when neither of us is watching you. You will scamper up the stairs on your hands and knees if speed (also known as "trying to get upstairs before Mommy and Daddy notice you're gone") is a concern; but when one of us is there with you, you are able to climb step by step on your feet while (usually) holding on to the railing.
Creativity
You absolutely adore your crafts. Two months ago you were using (and eating) mostly crayons (and when you get access to them, you still eat them). Now you're a pro with markers (although your aim leaves a bit to be desired still - thank goodness for washable Crayolas) and you're getting more adept at using craft glue with a paddle on foam shapes, pompoms, feathers, and magazine cutouts. You haven't quite mastered the art of removing stickers, but you certainly succeed more than you fail with that.
Dancing
In addition to your turns, hardcore hip sways and shoulder rolls, you now attempt to fox trot whenever you hear Frank Sinatra's Fly Me To The Moon (Mommy and Daddy's wedding song) coming from the ornament on our Christmas tree. Aside: you saw us fox trot once before attempting to imitate.
Gymnastics
You have really enjoyed the gymnastics classes you are taking. While you were a little shy at first, you have really come out of your shell recently. Mommy tells me that you follow instructions very well, and even anticipate some of the more routinated aspects of the classes. You have demonstrated incredible amounts of strength (twenty month old girls are generally not doing chin-ups, my dear). And apparently your straddle (sideways splits for those, like me, who are unfamiliar with such terms) is quite a marvel, although I just think it's cute to see you drop to your bum and swing your legs to your sides and point your toes whenever someone says, "Straddle".
Telephone
In the past couple weeks, you have demonstrated a real interest and ability to use the phone. You are now able to ask to call someone, wait for Mommy or I to dial, and then take the phone and wait for the ringing to stop and someone to say, "Hello" before you respond with a proud and excited, "Hullo!" Unfortunately, half the time you simply smile at the person on the other end, or attempt to show them various items (such as your dolls or the Christmas tree).
Language
As with my last update, this is by far your area of greatest development. You are capable of expressing complete thoughts, such as "Daddy going to work. Daddy will come home later." You have a more expansive vocabulary and continually shock your mother and I with words we don't expect. Also, we can no longer speak about anything in front of you in plain english, as you are now listening to and comprehending conversations between adults spoken at an adult pace with adult language. Two nights ago at dinner you asked for your water. As I handed it to you, I asked your mother, "If she asks for mine, can I give it?" Immediately after that you said, "Want some Daddy's milk, please." We stared at each other in disbelief. And then last night when I got home from work you came up to me, out of nowhere, and hugged my leg as you said, "I love you, Daddy." My heart melted.
You are growing up so quickly and making both your parents so proud every day. You continue to amaze and surprise us as you explore the world around you and learn everything there is to learn about it. I love you so much, my princess.
TNS: Today In The News
We have two very different stories in this morning's review of news articles.
As I was driving into the office I heard a brief teaser on the local all-news station. Convinced I had heard it wrong, I went on to a local news website and discovered it was the second headline on the page. According to the brief story, a mother left her five children in the car in a parking lot while she shopped in a shopping mall for an hour. The five children ranged in age from infants to seven years old.
Let that sink in. The oldest was seven.years.old.
Fortunately, it was unseasonably mild last night (I actually fiddled with the outdoor Christmas lights in shorts and a t-shirt) so the children weren't at risk for hypothermia or anything of the sort. And, giving the mother the benefit of the doubt, she had no alternative for childcare, either because of a lack of a partner's availability and/or financial considerations. I also acknowledge her right to provide Christmas presents for her children.
However, she has those five children. By her own choice she has decided to retain custody of those five children and not offer them up for adoption. By making that decision she has volunteered to be the primary caregiver and assume responsibility for the well-being of those children. In this case, she has failed to live up to the promises she made. How does one person co-ordinate five young children in a mall? I don't know. However, I know that leaving them in the parking lot, locked in a car, is not the answer.
Apparently, I would not do well to work for Child Protection Services, who has allowed the mother to retain care.
Our second article is a report on a study on childrens' readiness to learn. The study found that girls and boys are ready to learn at different ages, and that household income and involvement in organized physical activities play a role in the child's readiness as well.
I must applaud Statistics Canada for taking the honest road and acknowledging that a disparity in affluence can affect children in those homes. They note that the two are related, but that one does not unconditionally imply the other.
If a study finds that kids who play little league are better prepared for school than those who do not, it would probably also find (from that same set) that children whose parents cannot afford to send them to little league are not as ready as their baseball playing counterparts. Is the reason for the difference between the children economic or activity based? The truth is that both factors impact the end result, and Stats Can confirms this in their findings.
Interestingly enough, girls demonstrated more independence in dressing, among other areas, while the only area boys surpassed their female counterparts was in curiosity. There was no indication that the curiosity was related to the girls getting dressed.
As I was driving into the office I heard a brief teaser on the local all-news station. Convinced I had heard it wrong, I went on to a local news website and discovered it was the second headline on the page. According to the brief story, a mother left her five children in the car in a parking lot while she shopped in a shopping mall for an hour. The five children ranged in age from infants to seven years old.
Let that sink in. The oldest was seven.years.old.
Fortunately, it was unseasonably mild last night (I actually fiddled with the outdoor Christmas lights in shorts and a t-shirt) so the children weren't at risk for hypothermia or anything of the sort. And, giving the mother the benefit of the doubt, she had no alternative for childcare, either because of a lack of a partner's availability and/or financial considerations. I also acknowledge her right to provide Christmas presents for her children.
However, she has those five children. By her own choice she has decided to retain custody of those five children and not offer them up for adoption. By making that decision she has volunteered to be the primary caregiver and assume responsibility for the well-being of those children. In this case, she has failed to live up to the promises she made. How does one person co-ordinate five young children in a mall? I don't know. However, I know that leaving them in the parking lot, locked in a car, is not the answer.
Apparently, I would not do well to work for Child Protection Services, who has allowed the mother to retain care.
Our second article is a report on a study on childrens' readiness to learn. The study found that girls and boys are ready to learn at different ages, and that household income and involvement in organized physical activities play a role in the child's readiness as well.
I must applaud Statistics Canada for taking the honest road and acknowledging that a disparity in affluence can affect children in those homes. They note that the two are related, but that one does not unconditionally imply the other.
If a study finds that kids who play little league are better prepared for school than those who do not, it would probably also find (from that same set) that children whose parents cannot afford to send them to little league are not as ready as their baseball playing counterparts. Is the reason for the difference between the children economic or activity based? The truth is that both factors impact the end result, and Stats Can confirms this in their findings.
Interestingly enough, girls demonstrated more independence in dressing, among other areas, while the only area boys surpassed their female counterparts was in curiosity. There was no indication that the curiosity was related to the girls getting dressed.
TRS: Mommypalooza Recap
As MTM told you all Thursday, part of the Mommypalooza tradition is putting up the Christmas tree. Following her directions (don't you love it when your spouse leaves you instructions in public, so you're almost shamed into following them...) I assembled the tree and put all the lights on. Having also moved a ton of furniture around before doing the tree that same night, I sat down and told her that I would review the lights (i.e. spread them out a little more evenly) Friday afternoon as I was fanning out the branches (you know how the tree gets all crushed in the box and you have to spread the wires out so it doesn't look so anemic).
So I return home Friday afternoon and after a little family time I say to MTM, "Did you get a chance to fan out the branches?" She replies, "I had a rough day." Fair enough, the little one has been sick and fussy as anything lately, so I take a look at the tree. I see a far larger "black spot" than I expected, and think to myself that I should never do the tree when I'm tired again. As I approach the tree, I see that the black spot is due to an entire branch missing lights. Now, I may have been half asleep, but that doesn't happen to me. My anal retentiveness would never allow it. So I ask, "What happened to the tree?" Sheepishly, the reply comes, "You said yourself you needed to adjust the lights, and I thought you are always telling me how hard the lights are, and I thought they would be easy, so I took all the lights off the tree and did it myself. It's really, really hard. I'm so sorry. Please don't yell, and don't blog about it." (good luck with that) Short version: I undid 60% of the tree and relit it. Apparently, during Mommypalooza, Daddy's a Losah.
We spent the next couple hours putting ornaments on the tree. The munchkin was fascinated with the process, and really had fun. The lower third of the tree is covered with all the plastic and fabric and wood ornaments (and all the candy canes). Anything glass or plaster sits high atop the perch. It's a little lopsided, but it's our tree.
That night we went out for dinner to East Side Mario's. We had fun, my daughter and I, sharing the italian wedding soup. She also liked the warm bread. Eventually, I looked up at MTM and said, "Wow... it sure is taking a long time for our entrees to show up." About fifteen minutes after that, our meals come to the table. MTM's pasta dish looks wonderful, as does my veal parmagiana; until I cut into it. Despite taking an inordinate amount of time to bring me my meal, it was still blood red inside. Unfortunately, just as I was formulating the thought, "gross" into my head, the manager stopped by to see if "everything was OK". Without time to compose the polite version, I blurted, "Um, yeah, except for the blood in my veal." They swept it away, and while visions of ten poorly paid kitchen staff spitting on my plate danced in my head, MTM and the munchkin feasted on pasta. As the munchkin reached her boiling point and MTM pushed her plate away saying she was done, my meal arrived, via the manager. He put it down and asked, "Can I get you anything? Fresh pepper?" I replied, "A take-out box, please. They're done." Returning with the box, he appeared dismayed and offered a dessert. I said, if it was to go, sure. So we packed up and left the restaurant with a full meal, including dessert.
I sat down with my microwaved meal after the munchkin went to sleep. It was cooked, probably a little too cooked, but it was OK. Then I opened up my dessert and miraculously someone appeared beside me, dessert fork in hand. We "shared" my compensation for my suffering. I wasn't keeping score or anything, but I don't think I saw half that cake. Just sayin'.
Saturday morning we got up nice and early and went out to the zoo. The weather was unseasonably warm and sunny, making it a perfect day to be outside. And since it was late November, there were maybe a fifth of the people that were normally there. I'll share a few highlights.
The polar bear was a big tease. We probably stayed there fifteen minutes as he hemmed and hawed at the water's edge, hoping he would go for a swim. He didn't. Bastard.
Wanting to make sure we got our money's worth, though, the beaver put on a spectacular show. She actually came right up to the glass and climbed up the wall, looking directly at the munchkin, who watched in awe. This was easily the biggest non-primate ham we had ever seen at the zoo.
We spent a good twenty minutes watching the gorillas. Of note, a mother groomed her baby, and a little too curious male collected excrement (as it was falling from, well, you know where excrement falls from) and appeared to eat it.
And the most fascinating part was the baby orangutan. They were ten months old, and baby and mother were set up right at the glass. the munchkin got an up close and personal look at the baby as they played with a red bucket. And MTM got to empathize with an exhausted mother of a hyper toddler. Literally folks, we had seen this scene play out in our own home many times before.
Sunday was MTM's birthday, and we went out for a special breakfast (at the place the munchkin and I usually go for our "dates"). We came home and I prepared homemade soup for lunch (I make a killer potato cheddar soup), slicing my finger pretty well in the process. Undeterred, I still made the roast beef we had for dinner. We had a pretty low-key day without much excitement (save the bleeding) due to the munchkin needing several naps. MTM's sister came (her mom was not feeling well enough for her parents to make the trip) and we all had a fun time. The cake (store bought - I can cook, I cannot bake) was divine, and all in all, Mommypalooza was a success yet again.
So I return home Friday afternoon and after a little family time I say to MTM, "Did you get a chance to fan out the branches?" She replies, "I had a rough day." Fair enough, the little one has been sick and fussy as anything lately, so I take a look at the tree. I see a far larger "black spot" than I expected, and think to myself that I should never do the tree when I'm tired again. As I approach the tree, I see that the black spot is due to an entire branch missing lights. Now, I may have been half asleep, but that doesn't happen to me. My anal retentiveness would never allow it. So I ask, "What happened to the tree?" Sheepishly, the reply comes, "You said yourself you needed to adjust the lights, and I thought you are always telling me how hard the lights are, and I thought they would be easy, so I took all the lights off the tree and did it myself. It's really, really hard. I'm so sorry. Please don't yell, and don't blog about it." (good luck with that) Short version: I undid 60% of the tree and relit it. Apparently, during Mommypalooza, Daddy's a Losah.
We spent the next couple hours putting ornaments on the tree. The munchkin was fascinated with the process, and really had fun. The lower third of the tree is covered with all the plastic and fabric and wood ornaments (and all the candy canes). Anything glass or plaster sits high atop the perch. It's a little lopsided, but it's our tree.
That night we went out for dinner to East Side Mario's. We had fun, my daughter and I, sharing the italian wedding soup. She also liked the warm bread. Eventually, I looked up at MTM and said, "Wow... it sure is taking a long time for our entrees to show up." About fifteen minutes after that, our meals come to the table. MTM's pasta dish looks wonderful, as does my veal parmagiana; until I cut into it. Despite taking an inordinate amount of time to bring me my meal, it was still blood red inside. Unfortunately, just as I was formulating the thought, "gross" into my head, the manager stopped by to see if "everything was OK". Without time to compose the polite version, I blurted, "Um, yeah, except for the blood in my veal." They swept it away, and while visions of ten poorly paid kitchen staff spitting on my plate danced in my head, MTM and the munchkin feasted on pasta. As the munchkin reached her boiling point and MTM pushed her plate away saying she was done, my meal arrived, via the manager. He put it down and asked, "Can I get you anything? Fresh pepper?" I replied, "A take-out box, please. They're done." Returning with the box, he appeared dismayed and offered a dessert. I said, if it was to go, sure. So we packed up and left the restaurant with a full meal, including dessert.
I sat down with my microwaved meal after the munchkin went to sleep. It was cooked, probably a little too cooked, but it was OK. Then I opened up my dessert and miraculously someone appeared beside me, dessert fork in hand. We "shared" my compensation for my suffering. I wasn't keeping score or anything, but I don't think I saw half that cake. Just sayin'.
Saturday morning we got up nice and early and went out to the zoo. The weather was unseasonably warm and sunny, making it a perfect day to be outside. And since it was late November, there were maybe a fifth of the people that were normally there. I'll share a few highlights.
The polar bear was a big tease. We probably stayed there fifteen minutes as he hemmed and hawed at the water's edge, hoping he would go for a swim. He didn't. Bastard.
Wanting to make sure we got our money's worth, though, the beaver put on a spectacular show. She actually came right up to the glass and climbed up the wall, looking directly at the munchkin, who watched in awe. This was easily the biggest non-primate ham we had ever seen at the zoo.
We spent a good twenty minutes watching the gorillas. Of note, a mother groomed her baby, and a little too curious male collected excrement (as it was falling from, well, you know where excrement falls from) and appeared to eat it.
And the most fascinating part was the baby orangutan. They were ten months old, and baby and mother were set up right at the glass. the munchkin got an up close and personal look at the baby as they played with a red bucket. And MTM got to empathize with an exhausted mother of a hyper toddler. Literally folks, we had seen this scene play out in our own home many times before.
Sunday was MTM's birthday, and we went out for a special breakfast (at the place the munchkin and I usually go for our "dates"). We came home and I prepared homemade soup for lunch (I make a killer potato cheddar soup), slicing my finger pretty well in the process. Undeterred, I still made the roast beef we had for dinner. We had a pretty low-key day without much excitement (save the bleeding) due to the munchkin needing several naps. MTM's sister came (her mom was not feeling well enough for her parents to make the trip) and we all had a fun time. The cake (store bought - I can cook, I cannot bake) was divine, and all in all, Mommypalooza was a success yet again.
TWS: Mommypalooza Day 3
I am not going to spend much time blogging today. Sorry to anyone who came here looking for me to pontificate or wax sentimental or to recount an anecdote. It's my wife's birthday, and I'm spending it with her.
TWS: Mommypalooza Day 2
Tomorrow is my wonderful wife's birthday, so be sure and stop by her blog and tell her hi, OK?
Here, sweetheart, is the post about how wonderful my wife is, as you suggested when I was looking for subject ideas for NaBloPoMo.
MTM is the most incredible wife on the planet. Not only does she put up with me (and all theStar Wars toys, sci-fi movies, insanity baggage that comes with it) but she does it with a smile (albeit forced sometimes). She is my best friend.
She is also an amazing Mommy. She handles it with such a grace and confidence, and with so much tenderness and compassion too. She cares for our daughter and protects her and loves her and makes sure that the munchkin is always happy.
What else can I tell you about her? She makes the most awesome chocolate chip cookies on the planet! No seriously... these things are like bites of heaven. She is far more crafty than some people give her credit for. She scrapbooks as much as she can, given the time constraints she places on herself to be the best mother she can be.
But ultimately, she is most wonderful person I know. I love her to bits and pieces. She is my sweetheart, my sunshine, my everything.
That's all I'm going to post today, because, well, I should be spending time with MTM during Mommypalooza! Be sure to come back tomorrow for a little surprise I have prepared for her as well as all of you who read this.
Here, sweetheart, is the post about how wonderful my wife is, as you suggested when I was looking for subject ideas for NaBloPoMo.
MTM is the most incredible wife on the planet. Not only does she put up with me (and all the
She is also an amazing Mommy. She handles it with such a grace and confidence, and with so much tenderness and compassion too. She cares for our daughter and protects her and loves her and makes sure that the munchkin is always happy.
What else can I tell you about her? She makes the most awesome chocolate chip cookies on the planet! No seriously... these things are like bites of heaven. She is far more crafty than some people give her credit for. She scrapbooks as much as she can, given the time constraints she places on herself to be the best mother she can be.
But ultimately, she is most wonderful person I know. I love her to bits and pieces. She is my sweetheart, my sunshine, my everything.
That's all I'm going to post today, because, well, I should be spending time with MTM during Mommypalooza! Be sure to come back tomorrow for a little surprise I have prepared for her as well as all of you who read this.
TWS: Mommypalooza Day 1
This Sunday is my wife MTM's birthday. Every year we have lived together, we have kind of turned the time surrounding her birthday into a sort of multi-day festival (called Mommypalooza - her birthday is "a time of year not a day") where we do fun things and have special meals, all of her choosing, and all to celebrate her birth. In honour of that, this blog will be celebrating Mommypalooza all weekend. To start, I thought I would recount some of the highlights of Mommypaloozas past.
The first Mommypalooza went like this: Friday night before her birthday we went to see the first Harry Potter movie it's opening weekend. We lined up with a bunch of children and ate popcorn and just had a blast. The next night we organized a night out for dinner and later clubbing with five of her friends and their significant others. Sunday night we went out for dinner just the two of us. Monday night was her birthday and we spent it at her parents' place.
Subsequent years were highlighted by special home-cooked meals, other Harry Potter movies (late November birthdays rock for the American Thanksgiving movie releases), and dinners out. Honestly, it's mostly a blur now. I know that two years ago we did chinese food (because MTM hated chinese until she was pregnant, then loved it like nothing else, then hated it again after the munchkin was born - I remember this time fondly, since we haven't ordered chinese since). And we always had dinner on the actual day of her birth at her parents' place so her mom could make a special dinner and cake.
Last year, MTM's birthday fell on a Saturday, so the munchkin and I decided to celebrate it by throwing a surprise party. Unfortunately, convincing the mother of an eight month old to leave her house for the day, on her birthday, without her husband, (so he could decorate and prepare for a party) was out of the question. So, I rented a community hall, took the Friday off work and took over my sister's tiny kitchen preparing food all day. Saturday morning I feigned having to work and convinced MTM to go shopping with her sister. Meanwhile, my sister and I decorated and finished off the food prep. There were about forty people there, and MTM genuinely was surprised (and actually started to cry when my parents showed up - they had not been to our new home and had not even visited us since our wedding, due to my mother's poor health). Sunday we did dinner at her parents' place (who were kind enough to allow me to have her on her birthday despite the longstanding family tradition).
This year, we're planning a family zoo trip, because this weekend's weather is going to be so wonderful (among other things like meals out and what not - details to be confirmed by the birthday girl later). Unfortunately, MTM's mom isn't feeling very well and may not be able to come, so this might be her first birthday without her parents. We're not sure how she's going to take it, but I'm sure the munchkin will be able to put a smile on her face.
The first Mommypalooza went like this: Friday night before her birthday we went to see the first Harry Potter movie it's opening weekend. We lined up with a bunch of children and ate popcorn and just had a blast. The next night we organized a night out for dinner and later clubbing with five of her friends and their significant others. Sunday night we went out for dinner just the two of us. Monday night was her birthday and we spent it at her parents' place.
Subsequent years were highlighted by special home-cooked meals, other Harry Potter movies (late November birthdays rock for the American Thanksgiving movie releases), and dinners out. Honestly, it's mostly a blur now. I know that two years ago we did chinese food (because MTM hated chinese until she was pregnant, then loved it like nothing else, then hated it again after the munchkin was born - I remember this time fondly, since we haven't ordered chinese since). And we always had dinner on the actual day of her birth at her parents' place so her mom could make a special dinner and cake.
Last year, MTM's birthday fell on a Saturday, so the munchkin and I decided to celebrate it by throwing a surprise party. Unfortunately, convincing the mother of an eight month old to leave her house for the day, on her birthday, without her husband, (so he could decorate and prepare for a party) was out of the question. So, I rented a community hall, took the Friday off work and took over my sister's tiny kitchen preparing food all day. Saturday morning I feigned having to work and convinced MTM to go shopping with her sister. Meanwhile, my sister and I decorated and finished off the food prep. There were about forty people there, and MTM genuinely was surprised (and actually started to cry when my parents showed up - they had not been to our new home and had not even visited us since our wedding, due to my mother's poor health). Sunday we did dinner at her parents' place (who were kind enough to allow me to have her on her birthday despite the longstanding family tradition).
This year, we're planning a family zoo trip, because this weekend's weather is going to be so wonderful (among other things like meals out and what not - details to be confirmed by the birthday girl later). Unfortunately, MTM's mom isn't feeling very well and may not be able to come, so this might be her first birthday without her parents. We're not sure how she's going to take it, but I'm sure the munchkin will be able to put a smile on her face.
TNS: The "Supernanny" Program
Recently, UK Prime Minister Tony Blair unveiled a new plan, dubbed (not by him) the supernanny program. In short, the UK government plans to hire eighty or so parenting experts (nannies, social workers, psychologists, et cetera) and assign them to spend time with families in an effort to reduce societal behavioural problems with children (also known as "kids causing trouble"). Also of note is that the current assignments are all in poor living conditions, implying that the poor are bad parents.
A writer actually received the assistance for demonstrative purposes. I highly recommend you read their story as well.
Of course the PM is taking a piece of pop culture (the popular Supernanny television series that airs both in North America and in the UK). That goes without saying. However, there are larger questions raised by this decision. Namely, whether or not the state has any business guiding how citizens raise their children, as well as why they have targeted the areas of lower socio-economic standing.
At first glance, the government has no business trying to raise children; that should be left to parents. However, when considering that children that lack discipline are more likely to become a problem for police (and subsequently the government) through either crime or mischief, the rationale isn't quite as clear. The legal system as well as the social work system are funded by the government, and are forced to expend government money to resolve issues created by lawbreakers and behavioural individuals. Some of these people are more likely to act in this way because of a lack of discipline from their parents. How many is a question that is certainly up for debate. However, there is some logic behind trying to encourage more structured parenting in an effort to reduce the overall load on the legal and/or social work systems.
The more disconcerting issue is the decision that the less affluent areas are going to be the first ones to receive the support. The implication that neighbourhoods with lower economic standards are the ones with bad parents. While studies may show that the less affluent a home the more likely an individual is to commit a crime, this cannot be directly related to the parenting of the individual. Issues such as lack of proper funds can either push a person to commit a crime, or cause a parent to be absent for longer periods of the day without proper child care. Spending money teaching people how to raise their children is likely not the most effective use of it. Spending it to improve the standard of living for those without a reasonable standard would likely garner the desired results. Any spending in the area of socio-economic development is to be lauded. Unfortunately, sending a parent to school to learn that they need to be more strict with their child isn't going to help them if the parent has to work a double shift to be able to pay the rent.
A writer actually received the assistance for demonstrative purposes. I highly recommend you read their story as well.
Of course the PM is taking a piece of pop culture (the popular Supernanny television series that airs both in North America and in the UK). That goes without saying. However, there are larger questions raised by this decision. Namely, whether or not the state has any business guiding how citizens raise their children, as well as why they have targeted the areas of lower socio-economic standing.
At first glance, the government has no business trying to raise children; that should be left to parents. However, when considering that children that lack discipline are more likely to become a problem for police (and subsequently the government) through either crime or mischief, the rationale isn't quite as clear. The legal system as well as the social work system are funded by the government, and are forced to expend government money to resolve issues created by lawbreakers and behavioural individuals. Some of these people are more likely to act in this way because of a lack of discipline from their parents. How many is a question that is certainly up for debate. However, there is some logic behind trying to encourage more structured parenting in an effort to reduce the overall load on the legal and/or social work systems.
The more disconcerting issue is the decision that the less affluent areas are going to be the first ones to receive the support. The implication that neighbourhoods with lower economic standards are the ones with bad parents. While studies may show that the less affluent a home the more likely an individual is to commit a crime, this cannot be directly related to the parenting of the individual. Issues such as lack of proper funds can either push a person to commit a crime, or cause a parent to be absent for longer periods of the day without proper child care. Spending money teaching people how to raise their children is likely not the most effective use of it. Spending it to improve the standard of living for those without a reasonable standard would likely garner the desired results. Any spending in the area of socio-economic development is to be lauded. Unfortunately, sending a parent to school to learn that they need to be more strict with their child isn't going to help them if the parent has to work a double shift to be able to pay the rent.
TTS: Is Pretty A Four Letter Word?
When my daughter was first learning how to speak, I would encourage her by asking in a sing-song voice, "Who's the prettiest girl in the world?" After some coaching, we had it down pat that she would answer "Me!" almost immediately after I asked it. Then one day I did it in front of my in-laws and I noticed a disapproving look on my father-in-law (which admittedly was not surprising; there is very little that my FIL approves of when it comes to me).
I asked my wife about this later, and she commented that constantly calling the munchkin the prettiest girl in the world could raise an arrogant or self-centered child. Whether this was her explaining her father's perspective or her own was never covered. Confused and more than a little humbled, I stopped that question and changed it to, "Who is Daddy's pretty princess?" This question, with the absence of mentioning the whole world, was more accepted.
Lately, with her language comprehension improving seemingly every hour, I ask her questions all the time. One of my favourites is "Who has pretty hair?" which I asked once when she had pigtails in. She immediately replied, "Mommy!" And that response has been very consistent. I also ask her "Who is a pretty little girl?" and she shoots back "Me!"
Recently it was commented that I use the word pretty a lot with her. It was suggested that I was the idea into her head that beauty was important and that I was contributing to society's excessive value of attractiveness. I countered that instead of viewing it as putting value in beauty I was attempting to maintain a healthy self image by telling my daughter she was pretty. I made no comments about how her level of attractiveness would help her get out of future speeding tickets nor that it would benefit her socially.
But it got me thinking. Am I wrong for telling her she is pretty? I praise her for other things (doing a good job with a craft or activity, using difficult words in context with reasonable skill in pronunciation, et cetera), so it's not one-dimensional encouragement. Is telling a young girl she is pretty the same as telling her being pretty is important? On the one hand, one could argue that acknowledging it is emphasizing its importance ( i.e. the argument "if it isn't important, why mention it?") However, on the other (more literal) hand, I am just telling her what I think about her; I am not taking the role of declaring society's views.
This is just one more way I am learning how much more complicated life is for a woman than a man in modern society. My sister, who teaches Women's Studies, has been suggesting this fact to me for years, but I could not grasp it. However, with trying to raise my daughter with the values and ideas I feel are important, I am beginning to see just how difficult it can be.
I asked my wife about this later, and she commented that constantly calling the munchkin the prettiest girl in the world could raise an arrogant or self-centered child. Whether this was her explaining her father's perspective or her own was never covered. Confused and more than a little humbled, I stopped that question and changed it to, "Who is Daddy's pretty princess?" This question, with the absence of mentioning the whole world, was more accepted.
Lately, with her language comprehension improving seemingly every hour, I ask her questions all the time. One of my favourites is "Who has pretty hair?" which I asked once when she had pigtails in. She immediately replied, "Mommy!" And that response has been very consistent. I also ask her "Who is a pretty little girl?" and she shoots back "Me!"
Recently it was commented that I use the word pretty a lot with her. It was suggested that I was the idea into her head that beauty was important and that I was contributing to society's excessive value of attractiveness. I countered that instead of viewing it as putting value in beauty I was attempting to maintain a healthy self image by telling my daughter she was pretty. I made no comments about how her level of attractiveness would help her get out of future speeding tickets nor that it would benefit her socially.
But it got me thinking. Am I wrong for telling her she is pretty? I praise her for other things (doing a good job with a craft or activity, using difficult words in context with reasonable skill in pronunciation, et cetera), so it's not one-dimensional encouragement. Is telling a young girl she is pretty the same as telling her being pretty is important? On the one hand, one could argue that acknowledging it is emphasizing its importance ( i.e. the argument "if it isn't important, why mention it?") However, on the other (more literal) hand, I am just telling her what I think about her; I am not taking the role of declaring society's views.
This is just one more way I am learning how much more complicated life is for a woman than a man in modern society. My sister, who teaches Women's Studies, has been suggesting this fact to me for years, but I could not grasp it. However, with trying to raise my daughter with the values and ideas I feel are important, I am beginning to see just how difficult it can be.
TRS: "Maiwy Kissmess"
I have decided to tell the story of my Saturday over two posts because, well, they each deserve their own separate post. I'm trying a Tarantino style narrative to change things up a bit, so before reading this (which is actually part one), please read yesterday's part two.
Question: what do Santa Claus, Batman, Chewbacca, The Easter Bunny, Elmo, Spider-Man, Darth Vader, and The Mad Hatter have in common?
Answer: they were all at our local Santa Claus parade Saturday.
That's right, all of you who bitch and moan about "Christmas Creep" and how the Christmas season comes up as soon as people turn of their lights on Halloween night can kiss my ass. I had the fucking Easter Bunny at my Santa parade!
It all started so innocuously. Well, not really but we'll say it did. Around 9:45am MTM exits the bathroom and says, "The Santa parade starts in fifteen minutes. I don't think she's well enough to go, plus it's too late."
"OK," I reply.
"But, can you check where it starts and ends on the web? Maybe we'll go there at the end to see Santa."
"OK," I reply.
After verifying the start and end of the route and the fact that it actually started at 11am, we headed out to do some errands. I took the munchkin out first while MTM gathered our luggage (diaper bag, returns, et cetera). When MTM arrived at the van, she handed me a bag full of polar fleece items for the munchkin, explaining, "Well, I might change my mind." This, of course, is after I have dressed in a light jacket suitable for hopping in and out of stores but geared mostly for indoors.
We leave and go about our errands. As we are leaving our last store, MTM asks what time it is. I cautiously reply that it is 10:50am. For the next five minutes as we sit in traffic she hems and haws and eventually concludes that we will "just stop at the parade for a few minutes, so the munchkin can see some of it". After navigating far narrower old side streets than I care to recount, we park, dress the child so she looks and moves like Maggie Simpson, and head out to main street.
What followed was not the munchkin's father's Santa Claus parade. Daddy used to march in parades, so he knows his Santa parades, and this, my dear reader, was not the finest Santa parade. This is what we saw (and sadly I am not making any of this up):
After Santa (and his snow spewing hose - I wish I was making that up) passed by, we hustled to the car. By the time all was said and done, I speculated the loss of two fingers and a possible case of hypothermia due to lack of proper spousal notice. The munchkin, on the other hand, was dripping with sweat thanks to layers of polar fleece. Since the parade ended rather close to her nap time, the munchkin immediately fell asleep when we moved the car (literally we're talking one block and she was o-u-t). The first time she stirred (when MTM had hopped out to drop something off) she looked at me and said, "Maiwy Kissmess" and then closed her eyes and fell back asleep. It was so sweet.
The second time she woke up (again after MTM had hopped out of the van), she looked at me and said, "Maiwy Kissmess. Go shopping!" Grrreat.
Question: what do Santa Claus, Batman, Chewbacca, The Easter Bunny, Elmo, Spider-Man, Darth Vader, and The Mad Hatter have in common?
Answer: they were all at our local Santa Claus parade Saturday.
That's right, all of you who bitch and moan about "Christmas Creep" and how the Christmas season comes up as soon as people turn of their lights on Halloween night can kiss my ass. I had the fucking Easter Bunny at my Santa parade!
It all started so innocuously. Well, not really but we'll say it did. Around 9:45am MTM exits the bathroom and says, "The Santa parade starts in fifteen minutes. I don't think she's well enough to go, plus it's too late."
"OK," I reply.
"But, can you check where it starts and ends on the web? Maybe we'll go there at the end to see Santa."
"OK," I reply.
After verifying the start and end of the route and the fact that it actually started at 11am, we headed out to do some errands. I took the munchkin out first while MTM gathered our luggage (diaper bag, returns, et cetera). When MTM arrived at the van, she handed me a bag full of polar fleece items for the munchkin, explaining, "Well, I might change my mind." This, of course, is after I have dressed in a light jacket suitable for hopping in and out of stores but geared mostly for indoors.
We leave and go about our errands. As we are leaving our last store, MTM asks what time it is. I cautiously reply that it is 10:50am. For the next five minutes as we sit in traffic she hems and haws and eventually concludes that we will "just stop at the parade for a few minutes, so the munchkin can see some of it". After navigating far narrower old side streets than I care to recount, we park, dress the child so she looks and moves like Maggie Simpson, and head out to main street.
What followed was not the munchkin's father's Santa Claus parade. Daddy used to march in parades, so he knows his Santa parades, and this, my dear reader, was not the finest Santa parade. This is what we saw (and sadly I am not making any of this up):
- two Star Wars characters (Chewbacca actually had rifle ammunition strapped to his chest)
- two superheroes (Spider-Man was wearing Spidey pajamas)
- two Sesame Street characters (Elmo and Bert - according to the munchkin, Ernie was "working")
- The #$%^! Easter Bunny (in November)
- three dance schools (one had their girls in tutus over their snowsuits)
- four cheerleader "academies" (seriously; not schools, not organizations; academies)
- two day cares in school buses (where mostly adults waved out the windows)
- an Elvis impersonator (who was amped while his "backup singers" weren't)
- a Disney chipmunk (Chip or Dale) head on a man wearing colonial era clothing (!?!)
After Santa (and his snow spewing hose - I wish I was making that up) passed by, we hustled to the car. By the time all was said and done, I speculated the loss of two fingers and a possible case of hypothermia due to lack of proper spousal notice. The munchkin, on the other hand, was dripping with sweat thanks to layers of polar fleece. Since the parade ended rather close to her nap time, the munchkin immediately fell asleep when we moved the car (literally we're talking one block and she was o-u-t). The first time she stirred (when MTM had hopped out to drop something off) she looked at me and said, "Maiwy Kissmess" and then closed her eyes and fell back asleep. It was so sweet.
The second time she woke up (again after MTM had hopped out of the van), she looked at me and said, "Maiwy Kissmess. Go shopping!" Grrreat.
TRS: Yay Fooball!
I have decided to tell the story of my Saturday over two posts because, well, they each deserve their own separate post and I'm doing this thing where I need a post a day. So, this is part two. Part one will follow tomorrow. Call me Quentin Blogantino.
On Saturday afternoon, after bringing my body temperature to reasonable levels and an extremely late lunch, I settled down on the couch for a nice relaxing half of the Michigan - Ohio State game while the munchkin was napping. Unfortunately, she did not get that memo and decided to cry out shortly after kickoff.
My wonderful and understanding wife went up to settle her and wound up bunking down with our resident insomniac in the office. About midway through the first quarter, they called down: would I bring a bottle up?
After filling the bottle I climbed the stairs and felt pangs of guilt for dumping the parenting responsibility solely on MTM's shoulders. So, I asked the munchkin, "Would you like to watch football with Daddy in the big bed?" She replied (through the nipple in her mouth) "Foooobaaall." I took that as an affirmative and scooped her up and took her to our room.
We nestled in under the covers, me with my arm around her, her drinking her bottle, holding hands. It was fun. It was sweet. Forty five minutes later (nearly halftime) we were still there! It was remarkable; this is a toddler who cannot watch more than ten minutes of Curious George before climbing around and doing something else. But for some reason she seemed transfixed. (Maybe it was the trauma of seeing a wookie wrapped in ammo and a superhero in his pajamas earlier in the day.)
Something interesting happened while we were watching. With the score tied, Ohio State's freshman running back broke free for a remarkable touchdown run. See, in our house we root for Michigan, so this was not good. Unfortunately, the munchkin had never been taught that. When the guy ran in for the TD she dropped her bottle and clapped, exclaiming, "Yay fooball!" I tried to explain that she should be booing the guy to no avail. Now, whether she detected a rise in the crowd (unlikely, this was a 100,000 plus crowd at a #1 versus #2 college game - they're always hot) or not, we will never know. Personally, I like to believe she is starting to grasp the game.
After dinner and a bath, we settled in for a before bed cuddle watching the end of the fourth quarter. With Michigan down, I was beginning to speak to the television (thankfully without expletives). However, on more than one occasion, after I had finished yelling at someone, she would take her bottle out of her mouth and repeat what I had said.
Let me tell you, you haven't lived until you've heard a nineteen month old try to say "Woah woah woah... cut to the outside! Look at the clock! Look at the clock!" (Or hear them tell you Bert is alone because Ernie is working.)
Unfortunately, for all of our encouragement, the Wolverines fell short. I think the karma from the munchkin's cheering for OSU after the lead-changing TD was just too strong.
On Saturday afternoon, after bringing my body temperature to reasonable levels and an extremely late lunch, I settled down on the couch for a nice relaxing half of the Michigan - Ohio State game while the munchkin was napping. Unfortunately, she did not get that memo and decided to cry out shortly after kickoff.
My wonderful and understanding wife went up to settle her and wound up bunking down with our resident insomniac in the office. About midway through the first quarter, they called down: would I bring a bottle up?
After filling the bottle I climbed the stairs and felt pangs of guilt for dumping the parenting responsibility solely on MTM's shoulders. So, I asked the munchkin, "Would you like to watch football with Daddy in the big bed?" She replied (through the nipple in her mouth) "Foooobaaall." I took that as an affirmative and scooped her up and took her to our room.
We nestled in under the covers, me with my arm around her, her drinking her bottle, holding hands. It was fun. It was sweet. Forty five minutes later (nearly halftime) we were still there! It was remarkable; this is a toddler who cannot watch more than ten minutes of Curious George before climbing around and doing something else. But for some reason she seemed transfixed. (Maybe it was the trauma of seeing a wookie wrapped in ammo and a superhero in his pajamas earlier in the day.)
Something interesting happened while we were watching. With the score tied, Ohio State's freshman running back broke free for a remarkable touchdown run. See, in our house we root for Michigan, so this was not good. Unfortunately, the munchkin had never been taught that. When the guy ran in for the TD she dropped her bottle and clapped, exclaiming, "Yay fooball!" I tried to explain that she should be booing the guy to no avail. Now, whether she detected a rise in the crowd (unlikely, this was a 100,000 plus crowd at a #1 versus #2 college game - they're always hot) or not, we will never know. Personally, I like to believe she is starting to grasp the game.
After dinner and a bath, we settled in for a before bed cuddle watching the end of the fourth quarter. With Michigan down, I was beginning to speak to the television (thankfully without expletives). However, on more than one occasion, after I had finished yelling at someone, she would take her bottle out of her mouth and repeat what I had said.
Let me tell you, you haven't lived until you've heard a nineteen month old try to say "Woah woah woah... cut to the outside! Look at the clock! Look at the clock!" (Or hear them tell you Bert is alone because Ernie is working.)
Unfortunately, for all of our encouragement, the Wolverines fell short. I think the karma from the munchkin's cheering for OSU after the lead-changing TD was just too strong.
TNS: Three News Stories To Think About
First, an article generated from a feature on CBS' Early Show. The subject of the article is contrasting two parents from different families. One mother is very organized and rules-oriented. The other is a lot more flexible and laid back. The overall message is to let parents parent in the style they prefer rather than try and criticize them. I would tend to agree; if another parent is too lax for your liking, don't ask them to watch your kid.
Next, a somewhat more sensitive subject: premature births, and when a child is too premature to warrant care. The article is about a British report, suggesting that babies who are born before 22 weeks gestation should not be given intensive care treatment. The explanation is that at 22 weeks the child is unlikely to survive, while at 23 to 24 there is a good chance and at 25 and above there is an excellent chance. It is a sobering topic, and one worth reading. From my perspective, if the child is strong enough to survive the delivery process (vaginal or caesarean), they should be given the best care in the hopes that they survive. Then again, my little sister was born after 33 weeks back in 1975 (when neo natal intensive care medicine was nowhere near as sophisticated as it is today), and she is still around to bug me, so I might be biased.
Finally, a book review for Pinocchio Parenting: 21 Outrageous Lies We Tell Our Children, written by a psychologist. This book looks intriguing, but more for the sheer nonsensical factor than actual value. The examples they give of lies include telling our children that the world is fair and that Santa Claus exists. To some (such as this author), omitting the truth is a lie while to others (such as myself) it is delaying the passing of information until a time when the child is ready to learn it. In the case of Santa, it's an oral and written tradition that many people pass on; traditions and stories aren't lies; they're part of our history. As far as other lies go, sometimes you have to explain things differently to a child until they have enough comprehension to process the real facts; but that's just my opinion.
Next, a somewhat more sensitive subject: premature births, and when a child is too premature to warrant care. The article is about a British report, suggesting that babies who are born before 22 weeks gestation should not be given intensive care treatment. The explanation is that at 22 weeks the child is unlikely to survive, while at 23 to 24 there is a good chance and at 25 and above there is an excellent chance. It is a sobering topic, and one worth reading. From my perspective, if the child is strong enough to survive the delivery process (vaginal or caesarean), they should be given the best care in the hopes that they survive. Then again, my little sister was born after 33 weeks back in 1975 (when neo natal intensive care medicine was nowhere near as sophisticated as it is today), and she is still around to bug me, so I might be biased.
Finally, a book review for Pinocchio Parenting: 21 Outrageous Lies We Tell Our Children, written by a psychologist. This book looks intriguing, but more for the sheer nonsensical factor than actual value. The examples they give of lies include telling our children that the world is fair and that Santa Claus exists. To some (such as this author), omitting the truth is a lie while to others (such as myself) it is delaying the passing of information until a time when the child is ready to learn it. In the case of Santa, it's an oral and written tradition that many people pass on; traditions and stories aren't lies; they're part of our history. As far as other lies go, sometimes you have to explain things differently to a child until they have enough comprehension to process the real facts; but that's just my opinion.
TDS: It's Good To Be The Daddy
Earlier in the week I wrote about the current challenge we're facing as a family. Namely, that our daughter is very attached to her Mommy and wants nothing to do with me when she is feeling under the weather. Today I am happy to give you this update.
On Wednesday I got home from work to discover MTM on the computer and the munchkin still asleep. Apparently she had had difficulties going down, and had only been in her crib for 30 minutes when I got in. Shortly after my arrival she awoke and began calling for Mommy. I climbed the stairs quickly (in the hopes of preventing her from completely awakening) and picked her up. You know what happened? She looked up at me and said, "Daddy's home. Seep wiff Daddy." Well, my heart just about melted. I hopped out of my jeans and scooted the two of us into the office, where she slept peacefully for an hour (while my bladder strength was calibrated). The best part? After seeing me, she made one query about Mommy, to which I responded, "Mommy's not here, but Daddy's here and everything's OK." And that was good enough for her!
As if that wasn't enough validation for a father worrying about his role, there was last night. I arrived home to a quiet house, with both of my girls sleeping (they had gotten up early yesterday). After a bit they arose and came down to greet me. The munchkin was more groggy than usual, probably due to the fever she was running (for two weeks she has had this cold that our doctor insists is just a persistent virus, and nothing to worry about) and after a little snack she came to me and said, "ticko... couch" which meant she wanted to go lie on our couch while I knelt in front of it and tickled her mercilessly until she gasped for air. As expected, she was more lethargic than usual, and after a couple minutes I just cuddled her. She nuzzled into me, and I asked, "Do you want to rest with Daddy?" She replied, "Mmm hmm." So I picked her up and we settled on the couch, her lying on top of me, for a good half an hour... she drifted in and out of sleep, and occasionally turned her head to face me and smile.
After dinner, she started talking about showers. After checking with Mommy, I offered for her to take a shower with me instead of her normal bath. She declined. I then offered to take a bath with her (I had never done so because she always refuses and asks for Mommy instead) and she agreed! So up we went, and we took a nice long bath together. We washed, we splashed, and we explored the differences in the bubbles that are produced when you submerge containers under water (for those of you who don't know, the smaller the opening relative to the rest of the bottle, the longer the bubbles last).
Finally, in the middle of the night she had a coughing fit. I hopped out (usually it's Mommy who does night duty because she can sleep in, but I felt Mommy needed sleep last night) and got her. We went to the office and snuggled in. One explanation that Mommy was sleeping, and the munchkin settled down in the crook of my arm and fell asleep, where we remained for a couple hours. Eventually we would all migrate to "the big bed" while the munchkin had a bottle, and then when it was close to my wake-up time, Mommy and the munchkin went to the office so they could sleep while I got ready and left.
So, yeah, sometimes it just takes a little time and a lot of perseverance, but it is so worth it.
On Wednesday I got home from work to discover MTM on the computer and the munchkin still asleep. Apparently she had had difficulties going down, and had only been in her crib for 30 minutes when I got in. Shortly after my arrival she awoke and began calling for Mommy. I climbed the stairs quickly (in the hopes of preventing her from completely awakening) and picked her up. You know what happened? She looked up at me and said, "Daddy's home. Seep wiff Daddy." Well, my heart just about melted. I hopped out of my jeans and scooted the two of us into the office, where she slept peacefully for an hour (while my bladder strength was calibrated). The best part? After seeing me, she made one query about Mommy, to which I responded, "Mommy's not here, but Daddy's here and everything's OK." And that was good enough for her!
As if that wasn't enough validation for a father worrying about his role, there was last night. I arrived home to a quiet house, with both of my girls sleeping (they had gotten up early yesterday). After a bit they arose and came down to greet me. The munchkin was more groggy than usual, probably due to the fever she was running (for two weeks she has had this cold that our doctor insists is just a persistent virus, and nothing to worry about) and after a little snack she came to me and said, "ticko... couch" which meant she wanted to go lie on our couch while I knelt in front of it and tickled her mercilessly until she gasped for air. As expected, she was more lethargic than usual, and after a couple minutes I just cuddled her. She nuzzled into me, and I asked, "Do you want to rest with Daddy?" She replied, "Mmm hmm." So I picked her up and we settled on the couch, her lying on top of me, for a good half an hour... she drifted in and out of sleep, and occasionally turned her head to face me and smile.
After dinner, she started talking about showers. After checking with Mommy, I offered for her to take a shower with me instead of her normal bath. She declined. I then offered to take a bath with her (I had never done so because she always refuses and asks for Mommy instead) and she agreed! So up we went, and we took a nice long bath together. We washed, we splashed, and we explored the differences in the bubbles that are produced when you submerge containers under water (for those of you who don't know, the smaller the opening relative to the rest of the bottle, the longer the bubbles last).
Finally, in the middle of the night she had a coughing fit. I hopped out (usually it's Mommy who does night duty because she can sleep in, but I felt Mommy needed sleep last night) and got her. We went to the office and snuggled in. One explanation that Mommy was sleeping, and the munchkin settled down in the crook of my arm and fell asleep, where we remained for a couple hours. Eventually we would all migrate to "the big bed" while the munchkin had a bottle, and then when it was close to my wake-up time, Mommy and the munchkin went to the office so they could sleep while I got ready and left.
So, yeah, sometimes it just takes a little time and a lot of perseverance, but it is so worth it.
TTS: The Disconnect
Yesterday Rockstar Mommy wrote about her problem getting her husband to do the dishes or empty the dishwasher. According to her post, he empties it three times a year, and generally only after he's done something he needs to apologize for (apparently this time he dropped her camera). As the comments poured in (as they tend to do for RSM... I've likened her blog to a messageboard where only one person can start a new thread), we learned that many husbands/common-law spouses/boyfriends are the same way. Now, while this was all written tongue-in-cheek, there certainly is a grain of truth to all of it.
It got me thinking, forty or fifty years ago, there was a real lack of respect for SAHM and their contribution to society and the working world. Being a SAHM used to be called "not a real job" (or other such nonsense). However, I'd like to think that as a society ours is more enlightened now, and that many (no I am not saying all, just many) people feel that being a SAHM is a job.
With that being said, I think there is a difference in the respect or understanding a WOHD (work out of home dad) gets now. And that there is a disconnect between the responsibilities of a SAHM and the responsibilities of a WOHD. I realize that the job of SAHM is 24/7 since she never "leaves work" and that WOHD do their 8-10 hours a day and leave theirs. To stereotype for ease of making my point, the WOHD comes home to a tired SAHM who has been dealing with his screaming kids and his laundry and cooking his dinner. In contrast he comes from his job. See the differentiation? All of the tasks in the house are sort of his (because he lives there and is a member of that family) but in addition to those tasks he has his own job.
Hopefully, all the frothing-at-the-mouth SAHMs haven't abandoned me here and gone to click the comment link to leave me a scathing reprimand.
I am not saying "oh, woe is the WOHD who has two jobs". What I am saying, however, is that I feel sometimes there is a lack of understanding that while yes, it is the responsibility of the WOHD to share in the household chores, that distribution should not and cannot be 50/50. In the case of RSM's situation, emptying the dishwasher three times annually does not constitute a reasonable split of the efforts, not by any stretch.
To be honest, I feel like I make a pretty decent effort at distributing the work evenly. In the kitchen I generally prepare 2-4 meals a week, depending on how many meals we make and how many double meals (i.e. making a significantly larger meal one night and having leftovers the next) we have. I do not wash the laundry (uh oh... digression time... this is because of the pseudo-random nature of what items can be washed together, what items need five minutes to "warm up" in the dryer before being hung, what items cannot be dried longer than twenty minutes, what items have to be washed with different detergent... all rules that exist in my home that somehow I was able to avoid for the eight years I lived on my own and did my own laundry without any incidents... as contrasted by my mother who once bleached a dark brown pair of briefs, turning them pink, and then forced me to wear them to school ON GYM DAY! Whew) but I do try and fold it sometimes. I make the bed and tidy up and do all that stuff too. On occasion I vacuum or wash floors but generally that is handled by my wife. This is in addition to all the more typical "man work" I do like lawn maintenance, snow shovelling, et cetera). Note that I am not looking for approval here. I am merely trying to be clear about what I do.
And yet, sometimes it feels like my wife believes I should be doing more. Or maybe it's just my nature to try and take care of everyone all the time. I don't know. The thing is, guys who are WOHD and come home and do nothing are wrong. But, so are the SAHM who expect them to come home and do half of the household chores. (I am not saying my wife expects this.)
There are two things that complicate the matter, from my perspective. First, the issue of children: a child is by definition an erratic task. Some days they are happy and cheerful and can be left to their own devices for minutes (hours?) while tasks get done. Unfortunately, they can also be clingy, needy, grumpy little timesuckers who won't allow anything to get done. Second, as I inferred above, all of the in-home tasks benefit the WOHD while the only benefit the SAHM gets from his time out of the home is a paycheque, which can easily be lost in the shuffle.
What are my conclusions? I don't have any. I just think that both sides of this disconnect need to try and look at the other side with a bit more patience and compassion. To paraphrase Sun Tzu, if you know yourself as well as the person you are dealing with, you will always succeed.
It got me thinking, forty or fifty years ago, there was a real lack of respect for SAHM and their contribution to society and the working world. Being a SAHM used to be called "not a real job" (or other such nonsense). However, I'd like to think that as a society ours is more enlightened now, and that many (no I am not saying all, just many) people feel that being a SAHM is a job.
With that being said, I think there is a difference in the respect or understanding a WOHD (work out of home dad) gets now. And that there is a disconnect between the responsibilities of a SAHM and the responsibilities of a WOHD. I realize that the job of SAHM is 24/7 since she never "leaves work" and that WOHD do their 8-10 hours a day and leave theirs. To stereotype for ease of making my point, the WOHD comes home to a tired SAHM who has been dealing with his screaming kids and his laundry and cooking his dinner. In contrast he comes from his job. See the differentiation? All of the tasks in the house are sort of his (because he lives there and is a member of that family) but in addition to those tasks he has his own job.
Hopefully, all the frothing-at-the-mouth SAHMs haven't abandoned me here and gone to click the comment link to leave me a scathing reprimand.
I am not saying "oh, woe is the WOHD who has two jobs". What I am saying, however, is that I feel sometimes there is a lack of understanding that while yes, it is the responsibility of the WOHD to share in the household chores, that distribution should not and cannot be 50/50. In the case of RSM's situation, emptying the dishwasher three times annually does not constitute a reasonable split of the efforts, not by any stretch.
To be honest, I feel like I make a pretty decent effort at distributing the work evenly. In the kitchen I generally prepare 2-4 meals a week, depending on how many meals we make and how many double meals (i.e. making a significantly larger meal one night and having leftovers the next) we have. I do not wash the laundry (uh oh... digression time... this is because of the pseudo-random nature of what items can be washed together, what items need five minutes to "warm up" in the dryer before being hung, what items cannot be dried longer than twenty minutes, what items have to be washed with different detergent... all rules that exist in my home that somehow I was able to avoid for the eight years I lived on my own and did my own laundry without any incidents... as contrasted by my mother who once bleached a dark brown pair of briefs, turning them pink, and then forced me to wear them to school ON GYM DAY! Whew) but I do try and fold it sometimes. I make the bed and tidy up and do all that stuff too. On occasion I vacuum or wash floors but generally that is handled by my wife. This is in addition to all the more typical "man work" I do like lawn maintenance, snow shovelling, et cetera). Note that I am not looking for approval here. I am merely trying to be clear about what I do.
And yet, sometimes it feels like my wife believes I should be doing more. Or maybe it's just my nature to try and take care of everyone all the time. I don't know. The thing is, guys who are WOHD and come home and do nothing are wrong. But, so are the SAHM who expect them to come home and do half of the household chores. (I am not saying my wife expects this.)
There are two things that complicate the matter, from my perspective. First, the issue of children: a child is by definition an erratic task. Some days they are happy and cheerful and can be left to their own devices for minutes (hours?) while tasks get done. Unfortunately, they can also be clingy, needy, grumpy little timesuckers who won't allow anything to get done. Second, as I inferred above, all of the in-home tasks benefit the WOHD while the only benefit the SAHM gets from his time out of the home is a paycheque, which can easily be lost in the shuffle.
What are my conclusions? I don't have any. I just think that both sides of this disconnect need to try and look at the other side with a bit more patience and compassion. To paraphrase Sun Tzu, if you know yourself as well as the person you are dealing with, you will always succeed.
TDS: My Little Girl Is Growing Up
I seem to suffering from writer's block for some reason. So, today's post will be just a random collection of anecdotes about changes I've been noticing in my daughter.
Little Miss Independent
This past Sunday morning was an amazing and rare one in our household. While I sat at the computer working on the multitude of DVDs we decided that I would do for Christmas gifts and MTM prattled away at various tasks preparing for visitors who were coming later that afternoon, the munchkin entertained herself for the most part. Aside from occasional requests for a taste of whatever Mommy was preparing (cheese, carrots, lettuce) and intermittent pops over to the PC to see a family member on the screen, she pretty much did her own thing.
Little Miss Chatty
Lately the munchkin has been very interested in using the telephone, and not just as a prop. She asks to call her grandparents, and while talking to one will prompt for the other. Unfortunately, she doesn't yet grasp that not everyone is available during the same phone call (last night she asked for Nana when talking to a friend of Mommy's).
Little Miss Confident
The latest phrase in her rapidly-expanding vocabulary is "by-by-self" (by myself). Sometimes, it's cute (like when she takes a book from my hands and puts it in her lap) and sometimes it's a challenge (like when she wants to drink from our glassware). But ultimately it's an important part of her development, and I love it.
Little Miss Reader
As I mentioned above, she likes to read books by herself. Usually, after two or three iterations through the same book she will say, "Munchkin's turn" and take it from me. She will open it in her lap and can usually get a few words from the page correct (from memory after looking at the illustration). Some of the more repetitive ones (like Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What Do You See?) she can repeat almost verbatim. It's so cool to have her "read" to me.
Little Miss Independent
This past Sunday morning was an amazing and rare one in our household. While I sat at the computer working on the multitude of DVDs we decided that I would do for Christmas gifts and MTM prattled away at various tasks preparing for visitors who were coming later that afternoon, the munchkin entertained herself for the most part. Aside from occasional requests for a taste of whatever Mommy was preparing (cheese, carrots, lettuce) and intermittent pops over to the PC to see a family member on the screen, she pretty much did her own thing.
Little Miss Chatty
Lately the munchkin has been very interested in using the telephone, and not just as a prop. She asks to call her grandparents, and while talking to one will prompt for the other. Unfortunately, she doesn't yet grasp that not everyone is available during the same phone call (last night she asked for Nana when talking to a friend of Mommy's).
Little Miss Confident
The latest phrase in her rapidly-expanding vocabulary is "by-by-self" (by myself). Sometimes, it's cute (like when she takes a book from my hands and puts it in her lap) and sometimes it's a challenge (like when she wants to drink from our glassware). But ultimately it's an important part of her development, and I love it.
Little Miss Reader
As I mentioned above, she likes to read books by herself. Usually, after two or three iterations through the same book she will say, "Munchkin's turn" and take it from me. She will open it in her lap and can usually get a few words from the page correct (from memory after looking at the illustration). Some of the more repetitive ones (like Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What Do You See?) she can repeat almost verbatim. It's so cool to have her "read" to me.
TTS: This Week's Problem
It seems as we became parents, it became the norm to have an active problem to solve or think about. In the past, this has been sleep, or weaning from the breast, or introducing various foods. The current item we are working on could be titled "Daddy is a parent too".
Now, this doesn't mean I don't try to be a parent to our daughter. On the contrary, I feel I make quite an effort to spend as much time with her as I can, doing a variety of things. The problem is that when she is sick/tired/hungry/cranky she only wants her Mommy, unless it is clear Mommy is unavailable.
Allow me to elaborate. Last week, after arriving home late from the mall, I took her upstairs and got her undressed and ran her bath. As she was trying to use the potty before her bath, she saw MTM out of the corner of her eye in the hallway. At that point she began to ask for Mommy, and I explained that Mommy was doing other things and I would be bathing her that night. She began to whine and eventually cry for MTM. Undeterred, I put her in the tub, and she began flailing about so violently that I had to acquiesce and call in Mommy to prevent her from hurting herself.
Yesterday, she went down for a nap easily enough, but awoke 30 minutes later. We knew she needed more than 30 minutes because a) she had gotten up very early that morning and b) we were having friends visit and we knew she would be up late. After about 20 minutes of on and off whining and crying for Mommy, I went up. She had a poo, so after a brief cuddle to calm her I began changing the diaper. She continuously whined, asking for Mommy. Looking in her eyes, it wasn't a plaintive request but more of a why isn't Mommy coming? look. Knowing that I needed her to go back down, I told her that Mommy was out with her friend (the same friend she was out with on Thursday). Immediately she stopped crying and just repeated what I had told her, and that Mommy would be home later. She slept in my arms in our guest bed for an hour and a half after that.
When we awoke, MTM was disappointed to learn that I had lied to get the munchkin to sleep. We are trying to solve this problem in different ways. MTM's belief is that we need to teach the munchkin that she cannot always have Mommy, and that Daddy is a reasonable substitute for Mommy. Her suggested approach is to be consistent and reassuring, but firm. I have an alternative belief. Since MTM is with the munchkin nine out of the twelve waking hours in a day, it stands to reason that MTM is the more familiar parent. I need to take whatever approach necessary to show my daughter that she can be comfortable with me. My approach involves taking MTM out of the equation when necessary, since rationalizing with an overtired 19 month old is fruitless. While MTM believes this will not resolve the problem of the munchkin wanting Mommy when she is available, I believe it is the first step toward a more balancedpreference acceptance of me as a parent and caregiver.
It is a challenge, trying to be a father when you're only spending a few hours a day with your child. You know that you're her Daddy and that she loves you and misses you when you're gone. However, you can also see, through her actions and commentary, that she is much more comfortable with her mother. Logically it makes sense, but really, how often can one use logic when dealing with the emotions of raising children?
If there are any readers out there who have gone through this and have some ideas or opinions, I would love to hear them. Also, if you're currently going through the same thing, you can share your feelings here.
Now, this doesn't mean I don't try to be a parent to our daughter. On the contrary, I feel I make quite an effort to spend as much time with her as I can, doing a variety of things. The problem is that when she is sick/tired/hungry/cranky she only wants her Mommy, unless it is clear Mommy is unavailable.
Allow me to elaborate. Last week, after arriving home late from the mall, I took her upstairs and got her undressed and ran her bath. As she was trying to use the potty before her bath, she saw MTM out of the corner of her eye in the hallway. At that point she began to ask for Mommy, and I explained that Mommy was doing other things and I would be bathing her that night. She began to whine and eventually cry for MTM. Undeterred, I put her in the tub, and she began flailing about so violently that I had to acquiesce and call in Mommy to prevent her from hurting herself.
Yesterday, she went down for a nap easily enough, but awoke 30 minutes later. We knew she needed more than 30 minutes because a) she had gotten up very early that morning and b) we were having friends visit and we knew she would be up late. After about 20 minutes of on and off whining and crying for Mommy, I went up. She had a poo, so after a brief cuddle to calm her I began changing the diaper. She continuously whined, asking for Mommy. Looking in her eyes, it wasn't a plaintive request but more of a why isn't Mommy coming? look. Knowing that I needed her to go back down, I told her that Mommy was out with her friend (the same friend she was out with on Thursday). Immediately she stopped crying and just repeated what I had told her, and that Mommy would be home later. She slept in my arms in our guest bed for an hour and a half after that.
When we awoke, MTM was disappointed to learn that I had lied to get the munchkin to sleep. We are trying to solve this problem in different ways. MTM's belief is that we need to teach the munchkin that she cannot always have Mommy, and that Daddy is a reasonable substitute for Mommy. Her suggested approach is to be consistent and reassuring, but firm. I have an alternative belief. Since MTM is with the munchkin nine out of the twelve waking hours in a day, it stands to reason that MTM is the more familiar parent. I need to take whatever approach necessary to show my daughter that she can be comfortable with me. My approach involves taking MTM out of the equation when necessary, since rationalizing with an overtired 19 month old is fruitless. While MTM believes this will not resolve the problem of the munchkin wanting Mommy when she is available, I believe it is the first step toward a more balanced
It is a challenge, trying to be a father when you're only spending a few hours a day with your child. You know that you're her Daddy and that she loves you and misses you when you're gone. However, you can also see, through her actions and commentary, that she is much more comfortable with her mother. Logically it makes sense, but really, how often can one use logic when dealing with the emotions of raising children?
If there are any readers out there who have gone through this and have some ideas or opinions, I would love to hear them. Also, if you're currently going through the same thing, you can share your feelings here.
TRS: A Tale Of Two Shoppers
Random fact about me: when I was a younger man (in university) the majority of my friends were female, and although I didn't look the part, one of them told me that I "had enough fashion sense to be a gay man".
Last Wednesday I came home to discover that my wife had spent the afternoon at the local mall shopping for a Christmas dress for my princess to no avail. While she had seen many options, none of them stood out. So, she came home and informed me that this year (if I wanted) I was in charge of choosing the dress.
Worried about finding something before all the stock was picked over, we decided to head out again that evening to allow me to look over the options at the local mall before concluding other stores were necessary. At the third store we went to, I found a blue sweater with a fur collar that I decided would be the centerpiece of the outfit. (The first difference between the approach I took and that of my wife's was that I discarded the "it has to be red and/or green" rule.) Eventually, we decided on a black velour skirt and a blue turtleneck to go with it. Unfortunately, only the skirt and turleneck were in her size, so we left them all, deciding to go to another mall later in the week.
Scheduling forced that day to be Saturday. We went to the new mall, and found the sweater and skirt, but not the turtleneck. Frustrated, I looked around the store. There was an identical sweater in green, and identical skirt and turtleneck in red. After comparing the two, we decided to go with a red and green combo after all. I will post pictures once the outfit has been washed.
And that is the story of how I (we) chose the munchkin's second Christmas outfit. I would like to tell you that the story ends here. Unfortunately, we were at the biggest mall in the area, a mall MTM rarely gets to, so we remained and shopped more. And it was a Saturday in November.
You see, dear reader, mall shopping for me is like a tactical mission: make a plan, execute that plan to the best of my ability, and extract my team from hostile territory with as few casualties as possible. Conversely, mall shopping for my wife is like playing on a gameshow: an exciting and exhilarating opportunity that must be thoroughly utilized and exploited to your advantage. So, when we go shopping, it's kind of like the immovable object meets the unstoppable force. And sadly, for this blogger, the unstoppable force usually wins.
My plan was to get in, get the Christmas outfit, and get out. MTM's wasn't.
So there we were, in virtually uncharted territory, with a credit card. We hit sales and limited-time-only discounts and even the food court (mostly because one of us was whining that they were hungry... I'd love to tell you it was the youngest of our assault squad; but it wasn't - it was me). We bought gifts and got great deals, and we didn't suffer any losses!
All in all, it was a great Saturday. Well, except for the end, when I allowed MTM to choose a movie. Let's just say this: I want the two hours of my life that I spent watching The Lake House back. Not only am I supposed to suspend my disbelief that mail can be sent across the space/time continuum, but also that Sandra Bullock is a doctor? Puh-lease!
Last Wednesday I came home to discover that my wife had spent the afternoon at the local mall shopping for a Christmas dress for my princess to no avail. While she had seen many options, none of them stood out. So, she came home and informed me that this year (if I wanted) I was in charge of choosing the dress.
Worried about finding something before all the stock was picked over, we decided to head out again that evening to allow me to look over the options at the local mall before concluding other stores were necessary. At the third store we went to, I found a blue sweater with a fur collar that I decided would be the centerpiece of the outfit. (The first difference between the approach I took and that of my wife's was that I discarded the "it has to be red and/or green" rule.) Eventually, we decided on a black velour skirt and a blue turtleneck to go with it. Unfortunately, only the skirt and turleneck were in her size, so we left them all, deciding to go to another mall later in the week.
Scheduling forced that day to be Saturday. We went to the new mall, and found the sweater and skirt, but not the turtleneck. Frustrated, I looked around the store. There was an identical sweater in green, and identical skirt and turtleneck in red. After comparing the two, we decided to go with a red and green combo after all. I will post pictures once the outfit has been washed.
And that is the story of how I (we) chose the munchkin's second Christmas outfit. I would like to tell you that the story ends here. Unfortunately, we were at the biggest mall in the area, a mall MTM rarely gets to, so we remained and shopped more. And it was a Saturday in November.
You see, dear reader, mall shopping for me is like a tactical mission: make a plan, execute that plan to the best of my ability, and extract my team from hostile territory with as few casualties as possible. Conversely, mall shopping for my wife is like playing on a gameshow: an exciting and exhilarating opportunity that must be thoroughly utilized and exploited to your advantage. So, when we go shopping, it's kind of like the immovable object meets the unstoppable force. And sadly, for this blogger, the unstoppable force usually wins.
My plan was to get in, get the Christmas outfit, and get out. MTM's wasn't.
So there we were, in virtually uncharted territory, with a credit card. We hit sales and limited-time-only discounts and even the food court (mostly because one of us was whining that they were hungry... I'd love to tell you it was the youngest of our assault squad; but it wasn't - it was me). We bought gifts and got great deals, and we didn't suffer any losses!
All in all, it was a great Saturday. Well, except for the end, when I allowed MTM to choose a movie. Let's just say this: I want the two hours of my life that I spent watching The Lake House back. Not only am I supposed to suspend my disbelief that mail can be sent across the space/time continuum, but also that Sandra Bullock is a doctor? Puh-lease!
TNS: Lest We Forget
Today is Remembrance Day here in Canada (as well as other Commonwealth nations. It is called Veteran's Day in the US. It is a day set aside to remember the sacrifices made by soldiers who fought in wars for our country.
In honour of this, I am going to share some articles I found about fathers who have died in wars. Most of them are more recent casualties from Iraq, but there is one from WWII.
A man flies to Belgium so he can visit the grave of his father.
Twelve years ago a baby boy died from SIDS. Now, his remains are being moved so he can rest in peace with his father who was killed in Iraq.
An eight year old girl remembers her father for a local paper.
Direct quote from the article: "if he could take the place of one father who would otherwise go to Iraq, he would feel like he had accomplished something".
A father dies two weeks after birth of first daughter; he never gets to see her.
In honour of this, I am going to share some articles I found about fathers who have died in wars. Most of them are more recent casualties from Iraq, but there is one from WWII.
A man flies to Belgium so he can visit the grave of his father.
Twelve years ago a baby boy died from SIDS. Now, his remains are being moved so he can rest in peace with his father who was killed in Iraq.
An eight year old girl remembers her father for a local paper.
Direct quote from the article: "if he could take the place of one father who would otherwise go to Iraq, he would feel like he had accomplished something".
A father dies two weeks after birth of first daughter; he never gets to see her.
In Flanders Fields
In Flanders Fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae, MD (1872-1918)
TDS: "We Have Learned To Imitoot You Exarktly"*
As I mentioned yesterday, MTM went out with a friend last night, leaving the munchkin and I for a Daddy-Daughter night. She was kind enough to put out the garbage and recycling for me to help ease my workload (and then I got inside and found a clean and unloaded dishwasher and a sink full of dirty dishes... oh wait, did I just say the quiet part loud and the loud part quiet again?)
When we told the munchkin that Mommy would be leaving and that she would be having fun with Daddy, she provided a most unexpected response: she went and got the cooler I bring my lunch in (there are no fridges here) and informed us that she was "going to work". She dragged the cooler to the front hall, intermittently turning to say either "going to work" or "home later". Apparently, her position was, What? You're leaving me with him? No thanks. I'd rather go to work.
After Mommy had left and we had gone for a walk to get the mail, the munchkin asked to do a craft. When asked what kind, she said, "shapes". Daddy's understanding: gluing foam shapes to a styrofoam plate. What she really meant: spreading glue all over the table and attempting to eat the foam hearts. Fortunately, she grew tired (or full) of the shapes and asked for playdough.
Into the highchair she went, and out came the homemade playdough (one of many perks to having a Kindergarten teacher for a Mommy) and some presses. We rolled out the dough as the munchkin marvelled at how you could take a little stamper and create a fish/hand/apple on the flat surface of the dough. It seemed she would have been content to bash at the lump with various implements for hours (vent much?) but I decided to introduce her to the third dimension of playdough. First, I made a small ball. Her face lit up as she took it from me. Next, I made a snake. She ripped it apart. Finally, I took the ball and part of the snake and made what I thought was a reasonable approximation of a pumpkin. This is what followed:
Daddy: what is this, the munchkin?
Munchkin: (pointing to the stem) nipple
Daddy: No, it's not a nipple. It's a pumpkin.
Munchkin: (still pointing) nipple... milky bottle... milky bottle...
Daddy: Honey, it's not a nipple, and you know when you get milk in a bottle (we have been trying to ween her from a bottle and only give one at bedtime and first thing in the morning)
Munchkin: (escalating) milky bottle... Milky Bottle... MILKY BOTTLE... (I would later learn that she did not nap very well today)
Daddy: Hey! Would you like Daddy to make you a football?
Munchkin: Fooball! Mmm hmm.
After narrowly avoiding a full out toddler meltdown, we put away the playdough and read a few books while dinner was cooking. We ate (shepherd's pie, for those who are interested) and I cleaned her up after she spent a good ten minutes playing peek-a-boo with a filthy wet washcloth.
We retired to the living room where she rediscovered the cooler, only now she realized it was empty.
"Need food."
"OK. Let's get some of the plastic that Daddy uses for his lunch and put it in the cooler."
"Need ice."
"Nice try kiddo. No ice. Let's put the 'food' in the cooler."
"OK."
This time, the pretending was far more elaborate. She went to the door and turned to me and said, "Bye bye. Going to work. Have fun. Love you." I nearly lost it right there. When she is awake in the mornings before I leave (which now that I am working out of a client's office is most days) I turn to them before I go and say more or less the exact thing. She had my little schtick down pat. She also gave hugs to me and several stuffed animals, telling us she would be "home later" and that she was "going to work". When I asked her what she does at work, she gave me a blank look. I prompted her, asking, do you read books at work? Mmm hmm. I then told her that Daddy works on the computer when he goes to work, which generated a stream of information: work... pooter... email... email... Daddy... work... Anony... (I have a friend named Anthony who works with me.)
She had been wiping her eyes an awful lot so we went up and did her bath and got her dressed for bed. Bottle in hand, I read to her in the rocking chair in our room for quite a while.
She dozed in and out, and when she took out her bottle and handed it to me I knew it was time for brushing her teeth and going to bed. My ankle had been giving me a lot of pain, so I put her down and asked her to walk to the bathroom (getting up from a low recliner with a bum ankle is no easy task). She stumbled when I put her on her feet, so I steadied her. As I was standing up, she walked into the tv! I tried to get to her, but she stumbled along and bumped into the blanket box at the foot of our bed! I stopped her and asked, "Would you like Daddy to carry you?" Mmm hmm. Feeling like the worst father ever, I scooped her up, brushed her teeth and put her down.
She cried out two separate times, both times for me (not Mommy), and in fact, she only asked for MTM twice all night (to "show" her when she urinated in the toilet). All in all, a pretty good night (walking into furniture excluded).
* Simpsons Treehouse of Horror VII, 1996
When we told the munchkin that Mommy would be leaving and that she would be having fun with Daddy, she provided a most unexpected response: she went and got the cooler I bring my lunch in (there are no fridges here) and informed us that she was "going to work". She dragged the cooler to the front hall, intermittently turning to say either "going to work" or "home later". Apparently, her position was, What? You're leaving me with him? No thanks. I'd rather go to work.
After Mommy had left and we had gone for a walk to get the mail, the munchkin asked to do a craft. When asked what kind, she said, "shapes". Daddy's understanding: gluing foam shapes to a styrofoam plate. What she really meant: spreading glue all over the table and attempting to eat the foam hearts. Fortunately, she grew tired (or full) of the shapes and asked for playdough.
Into the highchair she went, and out came the homemade playdough (one of many perks to having a Kindergarten teacher for a Mommy) and some presses. We rolled out the dough as the munchkin marvelled at how you could take a little stamper and create a fish/hand/apple on the flat surface of the dough. It seemed she would have been content to bash at the lump with various implements for hours (vent much?) but I decided to introduce her to the third dimension of playdough. First, I made a small ball. Her face lit up as she took it from me. Next, I made a snake. She ripped it apart. Finally, I took the ball and part of the snake and made what I thought was a reasonable approximation of a pumpkin. This is what followed:
Daddy: what is this, the munchkin?
Munchkin: (pointing to the stem) nipple
Daddy: No, it's not a nipple. It's a pumpkin.
Munchkin: (still pointing) nipple... milky bottle... milky bottle...
Daddy: Honey, it's not a nipple, and you know when you get milk in a bottle (we have been trying to ween her from a bottle and only give one at bedtime and first thing in the morning)
Munchkin: (escalating) milky bottle... Milky Bottle... MILKY BOTTLE... (I would later learn that she did not nap very well today)
Daddy: Hey! Would you like Daddy to make you a football?
Munchkin: Fooball! Mmm hmm.
After narrowly avoiding a full out toddler meltdown, we put away the playdough and read a few books while dinner was cooking. We ate (shepherd's pie, for those who are interested) and I cleaned her up after she spent a good ten minutes playing peek-a-boo with a filthy wet washcloth.
We retired to the living room where she rediscovered the cooler, only now she realized it was empty.
"Need food."
"OK. Let's get some of the plastic that Daddy uses for his lunch and put it in the cooler."
"Need ice."
"Nice try kiddo. No ice. Let's put the 'food' in the cooler."
"OK."
This time, the pretending was far more elaborate. She went to the door and turned to me and said, "Bye bye. Going to work. Have fun. Love you." I nearly lost it right there. When she is awake in the mornings before I leave (which now that I am working out of a client's office is most days) I turn to them before I go and say more or less the exact thing. She had my little schtick down pat. She also gave hugs to me and several stuffed animals, telling us she would be "home later" and that she was "going to work". When I asked her what she does at work, she gave me a blank look. I prompted her, asking, do you read books at work? Mmm hmm. I then told her that Daddy works on the computer when he goes to work, which generated a stream of information: work... pooter... email... email... Daddy... work... Anony... (I have a friend named Anthony who works with me.)
She had been wiping her eyes an awful lot so we went up and did her bath and got her dressed for bed. Bottle in hand, I read to her in the rocking chair in our room for quite a while.
She dozed in and out, and when she took out her bottle and handed it to me I knew it was time for brushing her teeth and going to bed. My ankle had been giving me a lot of pain, so I put her down and asked her to walk to the bathroom (getting up from a low recliner with a bum ankle is no easy task). She stumbled when I put her on her feet, so I steadied her. As I was standing up, she walked into the tv! I tried to get to her, but she stumbled along and bumped into the blanket box at the foot of our bed! I stopped her and asked, "Would you like Daddy to carry you?" Mmm hmm. Feeling like the worst father ever, I scooped her up, brushed her teeth and put her down.
She cried out two separate times, both times for me (not Mommy), and in fact, she only asked for MTM twice all night (to "show" her when she urinated in the toilet). All in all, a pretty good night (walking into furniture excluded).
* Simpsons Treehouse of Horror VII, 1996
TTS: Difficult But Necessary
Did everyone have a nice "break" yesterday? Good, because today's topic, while pertinent, cannot in any way be considered a break. In fact, consider that a warning that some people are going to be uncomfortable reading this post.
When I was a younger man, before I met the woman I would eventually marry, I used to joke that a person was as old as the number of people that are screwed when they die. A single guy was younger than a married guy, and a married guy was younger than a guy with a wife and kids. It was immature and foolish, but it was true.
We are in the process of working out the details of our wills, and will be getting them formalized in the near future. At first glance, it should be a simple process: if I die, my wife inherits everything and vice versa for her. However, what if both of us are gone? What happens to our daughter? Less importantly, what happens if all three of us go?
There are some important things to consider when drafting one's will. Aside from the obvious (distribution of assets, assignment of custody) there are other considerations that are equally important. Most provinces or states define the age of majority as 18 or 19 years. That means that without words to the contrary, a child will receive full control of their inheritance at that age. Personally, we do not feel an 18 year old is ready for full control over their finances, and have decided to put a provision that their inheritance remain in trust (controlled by their guardian) until 25.
When choosing a guardian for your children, there are many things that factor in:
The process of preparing the details of a will is a long and difficult one. We have had to stop after only a few minutes because one of us has gotten so emotional that we cannot continue. To think of a time where I won't be here to protect my little girl is very difficult for me. I'm getting teary just thinking about it now.
Nonetheless, it is very important. Without a will, guardianship is decided (at least according to Ontario law) by the courts selecting a guardian from a list of volunteers who step forward. You would like to assume that a family member would get preferential treatment, but there are no regulations preventing someone without a blood relationship or even a stranger from requesting custody. I feel it is very important to ensure my daughter is cared for by someone who will love her and protect her like I would.
You can get more information on wills here.
Wow. You made it to the end. Tomorrow will be better, I promise. Mommy is going out to a spa with a friend tonight, and you know what that means... another Daddy Daughter Date post is coming tomorrow!
When I was a younger man, before I met the woman I would eventually marry, I used to joke that a person was as old as the number of people that are screwed when they die. A single guy was younger than a married guy, and a married guy was younger than a guy with a wife and kids. It was immature and foolish, but it was true.
We are in the process of working out the details of our wills, and will be getting them formalized in the near future. At first glance, it should be a simple process: if I die, my wife inherits everything and vice versa for her. However, what if both of us are gone? What happens to our daughter? Less importantly, what happens if all three of us go?
There are some important things to consider when drafting one's will. Aside from the obvious (distribution of assets, assignment of custody) there are other considerations that are equally important. Most provinces or states define the age of majority as 18 or 19 years. That means that without words to the contrary, a child will receive full control of their inheritance at that age. Personally, we do not feel an 18 year old is ready for full control over their finances, and have decided to put a provision that their inheritance remain in trust (controlled by their guardian) until 25.
When choosing a guardian for your children, there are many things that factor in:
- Where (geographically) will your child live, and is this where you want them raised?
- If there are several siblings, which sibling is asked to be the guardian? How do you avoid offending others?
- Is it wrong to ask a close friend to raise your child instead of a family member?
- Will the guardian you have chosen raise your child in the manner you want?
- What provisions will you have to make with respect to the child's trust fund? (By this I am referring to compensating the guardians for the costs of relocating your child into their home - moving vans, flights, etc. - as well as supplementing the new family finances for the additional burden your child places on the guardian.)
The process of preparing the details of a will is a long and difficult one. We have had to stop after only a few minutes because one of us has gotten so emotional that we cannot continue. To think of a time where I won't be here to protect my little girl is very difficult for me. I'm getting teary just thinking about it now.
Nonetheless, it is very important. Without a will, guardianship is decided (at least according to Ontario law) by the courts selecting a guardian from a list of volunteers who step forward. You would like to assume that a family member would get preferential treatment, but there are no regulations preventing someone without a blood relationship or even a stranger from requesting custody. I feel it is very important to ensure my daughter is cared for by someone who will love her and protect her like I would.
You can get more information on wills here.
Wow. You made it to the end. Tomorrow will be better, I promise. Mommy is going out to a spa with a friend tonight, and you know what that means... another Daddy Daughter Date post is coming tomorrow!
TNS: Prodigy Producing Prattle
Hello, my name is SciFi Dad, and I'm a TV-aholic. Whew. That feels a lot better.
While I may not write about television often, I can be found making comments about TV on other blogs when they post about a show I watch. I do watch a fair bit of TV; I use it to wind down before going to bed at night, to kill an hour here or there, or just because. Since the munchkin was born, my habits have changed somewhat. Now I don't turn it on until she has gone to bed (with the exception of an occasional check for football scores on Sundays).
The only exposure the munchkin gets to TV on a regular basis is the twenty minutes or so in the morning while MTM showers and gets ready for the day. She tends to split that between watching old DVDs of herself from her first year of life and watching the PBS series Curious George.
Why am I telling you about our TV viewing habits? Because this article suggests that heavy TV or computer screen time for the first two years of life can be detrimental to a child's development. The focus of the article is questioning whether or not it is possible to "build a brainier baby". (As an aside, using the word "brainier" in a title is not necessarily the best way to instil faith in your readers that you will be speaking authoritatively about intelligence.)
The discussion centered around the use of multimedia such as television and computer games to stimulate brain development. The author goes to the most popular producer of content for babies, Baby Einstein. Baby Einstein markets a whole line of videos and DVDs to parents of very young children with names such as Baby Van Gogh and Baby Mozart, implying that their product will bring out the prodigy in your child.
So, what do we do? I'm glad you asked!
We tried the Baby Einstein videos once. the munchkin never really seemed to enjoy them. She always preferred watching "the baby" (the aforementioned videos of herself and other family members). The Curious George phenomenon is relatively recent.
Being that Mommy is a teacher, the munchkin has always had a plethora of books around. She enjoys being read to, and exploring picture books on her own in a variety of little reading corners she has set up around the house. A different article suggests that the more real (i.e. non-illustrated) images in the picture books, the better, since a child's mind can better connect the image to an actual object. I can attest to this, as some of her favourite books are the non-story books whose pages are filled with real photos of things along with the words underneath them.
Aside from reading, we talk to our daughter. I cannot stress this enough: if you want your child to develop, you have to be their guiding force. Spend whatever time you have with them (some of us, such as working parents like myself, have less time than others) communicating. You don't have to make the discussions deep or provoking. Let them tell you about their day, or open a book and talk about the illustrations therein. Ask them questions, and make sure they understand you. Reword your phrases into simpler terms if you feel like you're losing them. But keep talking to them.
the munchkin is also encouraged to use her imagination through play. She has a little pretend kitchen stocked with all kinds of plastic fruits, vegetables, and other foods. When Mommy is cooking something, the munchkin is on the kitchen tiles, pan and spatula in hand, making the same thing. She often sits her dolls in a highchair and feeds them (usually peas and green peppers). We talk about what we are doing (chopping, cooking) and suggest that she do the same.
Don't misunderstand, despite all our efforts, we still have the sometimes incessant requests to watch TV or play a game on the computer. We just don't cave in, and eventually she forgets that she wanted it on, and goes off to find a book or a piece of plastic food to cook.
While I may not write about television often, I can be found making comments about TV on other blogs when they post about a show I watch. I do watch a fair bit of TV; I use it to wind down before going to bed at night, to kill an hour here or there, or just because. Since the munchkin was born, my habits have changed somewhat. Now I don't turn it on until she has gone to bed (with the exception of an occasional check for football scores on Sundays).
The only exposure the munchkin gets to TV on a regular basis is the twenty minutes or so in the morning while MTM showers and gets ready for the day. She tends to split that between watching old DVDs of herself from her first year of life and watching the PBS series Curious George.
Why am I telling you about our TV viewing habits? Because this article suggests that heavy TV or computer screen time for the first two years of life can be detrimental to a child's development. The focus of the article is questioning whether or not it is possible to "build a brainier baby". (As an aside, using the word "brainier" in a title is not necessarily the best way to instil faith in your readers that you will be speaking authoritatively about intelligence.)
The discussion centered around the use of multimedia such as television and computer games to stimulate brain development. The author goes to the most popular producer of content for babies, Baby Einstein. Baby Einstein markets a whole line of videos and DVDs to parents of very young children with names such as Baby Van Gogh and Baby Mozart, implying that their product will bring out the prodigy in your child.
So, what do we do? I'm glad you asked!
We tried the Baby Einstein videos once. the munchkin never really seemed to enjoy them. She always preferred watching "the baby" (the aforementioned videos of herself and other family members). The Curious George phenomenon is relatively recent.
Being that Mommy is a teacher, the munchkin has always had a plethora of books around. She enjoys being read to, and exploring picture books on her own in a variety of little reading corners she has set up around the house. A different article suggests that the more real (i.e. non-illustrated) images in the picture books, the better, since a child's mind can better connect the image to an actual object. I can attest to this, as some of her favourite books are the non-story books whose pages are filled with real photos of things along with the words underneath them.
Aside from reading, we talk to our daughter. I cannot stress this enough: if you want your child to develop, you have to be their guiding force. Spend whatever time you have with them (some of us, such as working parents like myself, have less time than others) communicating. You don't have to make the discussions deep or provoking. Let them tell you about their day, or open a book and talk about the illustrations therein. Ask them questions, and make sure they understand you. Reword your phrases into simpler terms if you feel like you're losing them. But keep talking to them.
the munchkin is also encouraged to use her imagination through play. She has a little pretend kitchen stocked with all kinds of plastic fruits, vegetables, and other foods. When Mommy is cooking something, the munchkin is on the kitchen tiles, pan and spatula in hand, making the same thing. She often sits her dolls in a highchair and feeds them (usually peas and green peppers). We talk about what we are doing (chopping, cooking) and suggest that she do the same.
Don't misunderstand, despite all our efforts, we still have the sometimes incessant requests to watch TV or play a game on the computer. We just don't cave in, and eventually she forgets that she wanted it on, and goes off to find a book or a piece of plastic food to cook.
TRS: More Weekend Stories
On Saturday afternoon we attended a birthday party for a little boy (the son of a friend of my younger sister's). It was cute; all the little guy's guests were girls - apparently he's figured out things early. What was fun for me was watching the munchkin try and interact with the other kids there. She obviously knew the birthday boy, but everyone else was new to her. She actually went up to one three year old and pointed to her cup and said "drinking", and then to her plate and said "eating"... it looked like the toddler version of small talk! Normally the munchkin is a little more withdrawn and shy, but she eventually grew confident enough to wander the house by herself (not that one of us wasn't far behind, but she didn't check to make sure).
On our way home yesterday we stopped by my sister's place for a visit since we hadn't seen them since Thanksgiving and won't be heading back home until December now. My niece is ten and my nephew is five. As the munchkin has grown up she has become more and more capable of interacting with them as children instead of being an object they must be careful with.
Sunday was the apex of this development. The three of them were having such fun playing together (really, my niece was more watching over the munchkin, but you get the idea) that the four parents got to eat most of lunch alone, having adult conversations, while the kids horsed around. Eventually they came to the table for lunch, but it was on their terms, and everyone enjoyed themselves that much more because of it.
She really is becoming more and more independent. It's a great feeling, but at the same time it's a clear reminder of her never ending trek away from being that little helpless baby that looked up at me all confused in the O.R. over 19 months ago. Don't get me wrong; I'm not complaining or lamenting any of this. It just hit me this weekend.
On our way home yesterday we stopped by my sister's place for a visit since we hadn't seen them since Thanksgiving and won't be heading back home until December now. My niece is ten and my nephew is five. As the munchkin has grown up she has become more and more capable of interacting with them as children instead of being an object they must be careful with.
Sunday was the apex of this development. The three of them were having such fun playing together (really, my niece was more watching over the munchkin, but you get the idea) that the four parents got to eat most of lunch alone, having adult conversations, while the kids horsed around. Eventually they came to the table for lunch, but it was on their terms, and everyone enjoyed themselves that much more because of it.
She really is becoming more and more independent. It's a great feeling, but at the same time it's a clear reminder of her never ending trek away from being that little helpless baby that looked up at me all confused in the O.R. over 19 months ago. Don't get me wrong; I'm not complaining or lamenting any of this. It just hit me this weekend.
TRS: Saturday Night Special
Not intended to be read while eating.
We're back. What? You didn't know we were gone? Well, we decided it might not be such a wise idea to announce to the world that our home would be unattended all weekend. We went to visit my parents. There was no special reason; just that it had been a month since our last one and we felt it important to let them see the munchkin again. We left Friday afternoon (I am fortunate enough to be able to rearrange my work schedule to allow long distance travel to occur during naptime), and for the first time since her birth and only the third time since I met MTM six years ago we did the trip in under four hours with no stops. (Since her birth, the munchkin has always either needed to nurse or get out of her seat during the trip; and before that MTM's microbladder made me stop. This time, however, the munchkin slept for about two hours and happily played with MTM for the remainder; MTM wasn't going to make us stop this trip!)
Saturday night we went out for dinner to Red Lobster. MTM doesn't like seafood, so we usually don't go there, but my parents wanted to go somewhere different, so that's where we went. Going out for dinner with a toddler is a lot like seeing a horror movie:
After heading home and getting the munchkin all bathed and ready for bed, I quickly escaped to my sister's apartment to post my Saturday entry (a sort of "cheater" since I wrote it Friday and left it available in my saved drafts online for quick and easy posting) to keep up with NaBloPoMo.
I returned home to learn that the munchkin had just gone down and was quite concerned about my whereabouts. Five minutes later she cried and I went in to console her. It would seem that my presence was not enough to assuage her fears, as she immediately asked for Mommy. About two minutes after handing her off to MTM, I heard her (MTM) say "Woah" and just like that we were in a pukapalooza! The (ahem) nearly missed the open luggage, barely edged the bedspread, and nailed the carpet with fervor. Forty five minutes, two towels, four washcloths, half a box of baking soda, and a vacuuming later the all clear was given (by me -- the munchkin wanted Mommy and I wasn't about to deny her that and risk a repeat performance).
We spent the next half hour allowing her to tire herself out by placing stickers on me (and very occasionally MTM). I lost many arm hairs to that cause. Eventually she went to our room with MTM, and after about twenty minutes I came in to relieve her (since she hadn't showered and stank pretty nastily) and thankfully the munchkin (and I) fell asleep on the bed. Since the previous night she was up from 1:30am to 4:00am (no I am not kidding) we decided to leave sleeping insomniacs lie and when MTM came to bed we left the munchkin in the middle. When I went to bed I learned that I am able to fall asleep with a infant size five foot wedged in between my stomach and ribs.
All in all, it was a Saturday night to remember.
We're back. What? You didn't know we were gone? Well, we decided it might not be such a wise idea to announce to the world that our home would be unattended all weekend. We went to visit my parents. There was no special reason; just that it had been a month since our last one and we felt it important to let them see the munchkin again. We left Friday afternoon (I am fortunate enough to be able to rearrange my work schedule to allow long distance travel to occur during naptime), and for the first time since her birth and only the third time since I met MTM six years ago we did the trip in under four hours with no stops. (Since her birth, the munchkin has always either needed to nurse or get out of her seat during the trip; and before that MTM's microbladder made me stop. This time, however, the munchkin slept for about two hours and happily played with MTM for the remainder; MTM wasn't going to make us stop this trip!)
Saturday night we went out for dinner to Red Lobster. MTM doesn't like seafood, so we usually don't go there, but my parents wanted to go somewhere different, so that's where we went. Going out for dinner with a toddler is a lot like seeing a horror movie:
- some people will make it out unharmed
- some people won't
- it's pretty much guaranteed to be messy
- you spend the whole time on the edge of your seat waiting for the gory parts
- you swear it's a mistake to do it, that this is the last time, because it's just too stressful
- somehow you survive
- you look back and think, "that wasn't so bad" and are likely to repeat the process all over again
After heading home and getting the munchkin all bathed and ready for bed, I quickly escaped to my sister's apartment to post my Saturday entry (a sort of "cheater" since I wrote it Friday and left it available in my saved drafts online for quick and easy posting) to keep up with NaBloPoMo.
I returned home to learn that the munchkin had just gone down and was quite concerned about my whereabouts. Five minutes later she cried and I went in to console her. It would seem that my presence was not enough to assuage her fears, as she immediately asked for Mommy. About two minutes after handing her off to MTM, I heard her (MTM) say "Woah" and just like that we were in a pukapalooza! The (ahem) nearly missed the open luggage, barely edged the bedspread, and nailed the carpet with fervor. Forty five minutes, two towels, four washcloths, half a box of baking soda, and a vacuuming later the all clear was given (by me -- the munchkin wanted Mommy and I wasn't about to deny her that and risk a repeat performance).
We spent the next half hour allowing her to tire herself out by placing stickers on me (and very occasionally MTM). I lost many arm hairs to that cause. Eventually she went to our room with MTM, and after about twenty minutes I came in to relieve her (since she hadn't showered and stank pretty nastily) and thankfully the munchkin (and I) fell asleep on the bed. Since the previous night she was up from 1:30am to 4:00am (no I am not kidding) we decided to leave sleeping insomniacs lie and when MTM came to bed we left the munchkin in the middle. When I went to bed I learned that I am able to fall asleep with a infant size five foot wedged in between my stomach and ribs.
All in all, it was a Saturday night to remember.
TNS: Who Gets The Call?
Should severely disabled children be kept small?
Now that I have your attention, that was the headline of a recent article from the Associated Press. The abbreviated version of the story is this: a mentally challenged six year old girl was given high doses of estrogen to permanently halt her growth and development. Apparently, the procedure was performed for the purposes of making is easier for the parents to care for their daughter as time moves forward.
Trying to avoid the instinctive outraged response, I rationalized that at some point the article would clarify that some testing had been done and that the girl's development would be problematic or create issues for caregivers. No such clarification was made. This girl's development has been arrested at the age of six.
Do parents have the right to have this sort of procedure performed on their children? Do children have any rights? If so, where is this line drawn? Who acts on the child's behalf when the parents are the ones being opposed?
From my perspective, I can understand why the parents did this. Being a caregiver for a severely challenged individual can be consumptive of time, emotion, finances and sanity. Caring for a small child is far easier than caring for an adult. Ultimately, they are making a decision that will benefit the child because they will be able to care for their daughter for a longer period of time than if she had become an adult (theoretically).
However, I cannot get past the question of what rights this child has or should have. Should a person who (according to the article) has the intellectual development of an infant be allowed to develop into puberty with the ability to become a parent? Is stunting her growth any different than sterilizing her?
I don't really have any answers to these questions. I'm more posting this as "food for thought".
Now that I have your attention, that was the headline of a recent article from the Associated Press. The abbreviated version of the story is this: a mentally challenged six year old girl was given high doses of estrogen to permanently halt her growth and development. Apparently, the procedure was performed for the purposes of making is easier for the parents to care for their daughter as time moves forward.
Trying to avoid the instinctive outraged response, I rationalized that at some point the article would clarify that some testing had been done and that the girl's development would be problematic or create issues for caregivers. No such clarification was made. This girl's development has been arrested at the age of six.
Do parents have the right to have this sort of procedure performed on their children? Do children have any rights? If so, where is this line drawn? Who acts on the child's behalf when the parents are the ones being opposed?
From my perspective, I can understand why the parents did this. Being a caregiver for a severely challenged individual can be consumptive of time, emotion, finances and sanity. Caring for a small child is far easier than caring for an adult. Ultimately, they are making a decision that will benefit the child because they will be able to care for their daughter for a longer period of time than if she had become an adult (theoretically).
However, I cannot get past the question of what rights this child has or should have. Should a person who (according to the article) has the intellectual development of an infant be allowed to develop into puberty with the ability to become a parent? Is stunting her growth any different than sterilizing her?
I don't really have any answers to these questions. I'm more posting this as "food for thought".
TTS: How Much Is Too Much?
As the parent of a toddler, I have learned that the reality is they are constantly observing everything around them. Subsequently, since parents are the most common caregiver, we as parents are continuously teaching our children, whether we intend to or not. Since we cannot control when they are learning, we can only control what they are learning.
I am of the opinion that the current curriculum for Kindergarten (both junior and senior) is beneath the academic capacities of more than half the children out there. Now, I am not saying Kindergarten is too easy, or that we aren't pushing our children hard enough. It is necessary to reduce the academic load in order to focus on the key elements of JK/SK: learning how to be in school (structure, following instructions, working in groups, discussion, explorative thought and play, et cetera). The teachers spend less time "teaching" (using the rudimentary definition of "teaching" most people apply - an adult at the front of a classroom dictating and illustrating concepts) and more time preparing their students for the higher grades; therefore the content they are teaching has to be more easily achievable than what an average person would expect.
The point of the above paragraph was not to criticize the current school system. Instead, it was merely intended to clarify my position that the academic portion of Kindergarten is beneath the capabilities of most children, but for good reason. Nonetheless, it is beneath their abilities.
This raises a question. If a child is not going to be pushed to their academic limits until after the age of five, how much encouragement should a toddler be given to accumulate information? In simpler terms, how much stuff should parents be teaching their kids at home before they go to school?
About four months ago, my daughter (then 15 months) picked up on rote counting by listening to my wife exercise. At that time she didn't realize any correlation between the words (one, two, three...) and actual items or actions being counted. It was a sequence of words that Mommy repeated that she could repeat with her. Since then, through grandparents and others, she has been encouraged to develop this ability and has recently demonstrated preliminary understanding of one-to-one correspondence (i.e. she now understands that the words mean something, and will count the blueberries on her tray or count her stacking blocks). By no means is she doing perfectly (she often misses numbers), but she can get herself to twenty. Given the history, it is safe to assume that before she is two she will be able to count to twenty without error.
However, since rote counting and one-to-one correspondence will be covered as part of the mathematics of Kindergarten, are we ensuring she will be bored at school? Will her lack of interest in something that she accomplished three years before she got to school be the cause of behavioural issues?
As parents, we want to encourage them when they show interest in something. By the time they are two, a lot of kids will have one or more favourite books memorized. One day they will "read along" (more accurately recite, but in their mind it is reading) with us and we will be shocked and excited and proud. This memorization is a building block of literacy, not to mention confidence. However, children are not expected to be reading at the end of Kindergarten. This is something that is the focus of six year olds in grade one. By encouraging them to read with us as toddlers, are we dooming them to boredom?
I am not trying to tell parents to stop reading to their kids and plunk them in front of the television to prevent them from learning. I am merely wondering what impact this has on children as they enter school. My mom was a primary teacher, and I was an inquisitive young boy. That combination meant that I entered school with a significantly larger sight vocabulary than most of my peers, and an ability to count of which most grade ones were incapable. How much of that was a result of my natural ability, and how much was my mother's encouragement?
As I watch my daughter develop, I want to make sure I do right by her. I don't want to discourage her exploration of the world in any way, shape, or form, but at what point do I have to draw a line? With the internet and media outlets providing information 24/7, what else will she pick up? What happens when she turns to me during an episode of Zooboomoofoo and asks me why birds lay eggs while a bear is born? Sure, the easy thing is to give a brief, almost glib, answer and pat her on the head. However, what about the inevitable, "But why?" How far can we let that go?
My wife and I are determined to make sure our children are not pushed too hard before they enter school, but I fear our determination will only carry us so far. What are your thoughts about what toddlers are learning at home?
I am of the opinion that the current curriculum for Kindergarten (both junior and senior) is beneath the academic capacities of more than half the children out there. Now, I am not saying Kindergarten is too easy, or that we aren't pushing our children hard enough. It is necessary to reduce the academic load in order to focus on the key elements of JK/SK: learning how to be in school (structure, following instructions, working in groups, discussion, explorative thought and play, et cetera). The teachers spend less time "teaching" (using the rudimentary definition of "teaching" most people apply - an adult at the front of a classroom dictating and illustrating concepts) and more time preparing their students for the higher grades; therefore the content they are teaching has to be more easily achievable than what an average person would expect.
The point of the above paragraph was not to criticize the current school system. Instead, it was merely intended to clarify my position that the academic portion of Kindergarten is beneath the capabilities of most children, but for good reason. Nonetheless, it is beneath their abilities.
This raises a question. If a child is not going to be pushed to their academic limits until after the age of five, how much encouragement should a toddler be given to accumulate information? In simpler terms, how much stuff should parents be teaching their kids at home before they go to school?
About four months ago, my daughter (then 15 months) picked up on rote counting by listening to my wife exercise. At that time she didn't realize any correlation between the words (one, two, three...) and actual items or actions being counted. It was a sequence of words that Mommy repeated that she could repeat with her. Since then, through grandparents and others, she has been encouraged to develop this ability and has recently demonstrated preliminary understanding of one-to-one correspondence (i.e. she now understands that the words mean something, and will count the blueberries on her tray or count her stacking blocks). By no means is she doing perfectly (she often misses numbers), but she can get herself to twenty. Given the history, it is safe to assume that before she is two she will be able to count to twenty without error.
However, since rote counting and one-to-one correspondence will be covered as part of the mathematics of Kindergarten, are we ensuring she will be bored at school? Will her lack of interest in something that she accomplished three years before she got to school be the cause of behavioural issues?
As parents, we want to encourage them when they show interest in something. By the time they are two, a lot of kids will have one or more favourite books memorized. One day they will "read along" (more accurately recite, but in their mind it is reading) with us and we will be shocked and excited and proud. This memorization is a building block of literacy, not to mention confidence. However, children are not expected to be reading at the end of Kindergarten. This is something that is the focus of six year olds in grade one. By encouraging them to read with us as toddlers, are we dooming them to boredom?
I am not trying to tell parents to stop reading to their kids and plunk them in front of the television to prevent them from learning. I am merely wondering what impact this has on children as they enter school. My mom was a primary teacher, and I was an inquisitive young boy. That combination meant that I entered school with a significantly larger sight vocabulary than most of my peers, and an ability to count of which most grade ones were incapable. How much of that was a result of my natural ability, and how much was my mother's encouragement?
As I watch my daughter develop, I want to make sure I do right by her. I don't want to discourage her exploration of the world in any way, shape, or form, but at what point do I have to draw a line? With the internet and media outlets providing information 24/7, what else will she pick up? What happens when she turns to me during an episode of Zooboomoofoo and asks me why birds lay eggs while a bear is born? Sure, the easy thing is to give a brief, almost glib, answer and pat her on the head. However, what about the inevitable, "But why?" How far can we let that go?
My wife and I are determined to make sure our children are not pushed too hard before they enter school, but I fear our determination will only carry us so far. What are your thoughts about what toddlers are learning at home?
TRS: Happy Halloleen!
Phonetic spelling in the title intended to give a sense of how my little one pronounced Halloween.
Last night I arrived home to a just-waking princess and a tired but proud Mommy. We were having chili for dinner, something that, in our over six years of knowing each other, I have never seen MTM eat. She decided to make it in the slow-cooker since it would be easy to eat in shifts (we three would eat early while her parents and sister could eat at a normal dinner time). It was quite good, although less spicy than I like it (out of respect for the in-laws and the munchkin).
Unfortunately, the munchkin was a little under the weather. She had the sniffles (OK, she had snot running down her nose and wiped it on my neck) and a slight cough. She was lethargic and whiny and grumpy. So, I did what any self-respecting parent of a toddler would do on Halloween: I gave her chocolate. Next thing we know she's bouncing around the house like I'd given her crystal meth. It was fun.
We have been keeping her costume a secret, mainly because we were so excited about how good she looked in it that we wanted it to be a surprise to everyone else. This included my mother-in-law, who actually had to perform a repair on it. How did we achieve this? We placed the costume in a garbage bag and only exposed the smallest portion of fabric needing attention. Since it was orange, she assumed it was a pumpkin.
How did we come up with Nemo? (Aside: those of you who hadn't figured out she was Nemo, well, what's wrong with you?!?) We were at the Disney Store when we saw the plush costumes. Up until that time we were planning on her being a cheerleader (the munchkin has a Detroit Lions cheerleader outfit from Father's Day), but once MTM laid eyes on the plush ones, I knew it was over. So, we put her in the Nemo and let her look in the store mirror. Her face lit up like we had never seen. See the stuffed Nemo in her arms? Yeah, we had to buy that to negotiate getting the costume off without a major scene in the mall. Every time we put it on her since, it was a struggle to get it off.
As we left our house, the munchkin observed (and I quote), "Woah... big pumpkin!" She was referring to a large inflated nylon pumpkin across the street. She was pretty excited to see it, so we saved that for incentive to make it down the street. She was a huge hit with all the neighbours, and despite days of practicing she never said "Trick or Treat" once... she just did the deer in headlights thing. Fortunately, our obsessive nature with manners yielded a "Thank you" to most candy givers.
When we returned home, we left her in her costume and let her hand out the candy. She actually liked this a LOT more than gathering it door to door. She liked it so much, that she would knock on the inside of the door and say "More, more" pleading for the kids to come so she could hand out candy. This led to a series of her passing out candy to the five adults, who would, when she wasn't looking, put it back in the bowl.
Last night I arrived home to a just-waking princess and a tired but proud Mommy. We were having chili for dinner, something that, in our over six years of knowing each other, I have never seen MTM eat. She decided to make it in the slow-cooker since it would be easy to eat in shifts (we three would eat early while her parents and sister could eat at a normal dinner time). It was quite good, although less spicy than I like it (out of respect for the in-laws and the munchkin).
Unfortunately, the munchkin was a little under the weather. She had the sniffles (OK, she had snot running down her nose and wiped it on my neck) and a slight cough. She was lethargic and whiny and grumpy. So, I did what any self-respecting parent of a toddler would do on Halloween: I gave her chocolate. Next thing we know she's bouncing around the house like I'd given her crystal meth. It was fun.
We have been keeping her costume a secret, mainly because we were so excited about how good she looked in it that we wanted it to be a surprise to everyone else. This included my mother-in-law, who actually had to perform a repair on it. How did we achieve this? We placed the costume in a garbage bag and only exposed the smallest portion of fabric needing attention. Since it was orange, she assumed it was a pumpkin.
How did we come up with Nemo? (Aside: those of you who hadn't figured out she was Nemo, well, what's wrong with you?!?) We were at the Disney Store when we saw the plush costumes. Up until that time we were planning on her being a cheerleader (the munchkin has a Detroit Lions cheerleader outfit from Father's Day), but once MTM laid eyes on the plush ones, I knew it was over. So, we put her in the Nemo and let her look in the store mirror. Her face lit up like we had never seen. See the stuffed Nemo in her arms? Yeah, we had to buy that to negotiate getting the costume off without a major scene in the mall. Every time we put it on her since, it was a struggle to get it off.
As we left our house, the munchkin observed (and I quote), "Woah... big pumpkin!" She was referring to a large inflated nylon pumpkin across the street. She was pretty excited to see it, so we saved that for incentive to make it down the street. She was a huge hit with all the neighbours, and despite days of practicing she never said "Trick or Treat" once... she just did the deer in headlights thing. Fortunately, our obsessive nature with manners yielded a "Thank you" to most candy givers.
When we returned home, we left her in her costume and let her hand out the candy. She actually liked this a LOT more than gathering it door to door. She liked it so much, that she would knock on the inside of the door and say "More, more" pleading for the kids to come so she could hand out candy. This led to a series of her passing out candy to the five adults, who would, when she wasn't looking, put it back in the bowl.
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