TWS: Nesting Early

Welcome to the first installment of Wifey Wednesday, the segment where I take you through stories of my wife, the wonderful MTM. Earlier in the week I had decided on my topic (and admittedly it was more than slightly influenced by my desire to share what I consider to be the best photo I have taken of my wife). And then, as she so often does, she made me reconsider my whole plan. You see, Monday night she started showing symptoms of stomach flu. By Tuesday morning both the munchkin and I were doubled over in gastro-intestinal suffering, and the three of us remained that way all day. But rather than give you the details of that, I'll just stick to my original plan. I think you all will agree it is a better story.

MTM and I met in the summer of 2000. At that time, I lived in a suburb on the southwest end of town, while she lived with her parents in another 'burb in the northeast. Without any big city traffic, the drive was 45 minutes one way (with traffic, it was over 2 hours). And since she lived with her folks and I lived alone, she often spent extended periods of time with me at my place. Being a teacher meant she was left alone at my apartment all day, since school didn't start until September.

It all started so innocuously. One day I came home to discover that the sponge and scratch pad that I used to wash my dishes were missing. In their place was a crocheted dishrag. When I made note of the change, a collection of crocheted dishrags was shown in one of my drawers. I was informed that no one uses a sponge to wash dishes (really? that's all I remember my family using when I was growing up) and that she had taken the liberty of discarding my sponge in favour of these far more attractive dishrags. I sighed and figured it was a small price to pay for having such an amazing woman.

A couple weeks later, I came home and (for whatever reason) went under the sink in the bathroom. I was stunned. Gone were my shower spray, my toilet bowl cleaner, my sponges for cleaning the bathroom. In their place was a fresh roll of paper towels and a whole new assortment of cleaning products. I was informed that the sponges were havens for germs (what was it with this woman and sponges?) and that I wasn't using the "right" cleaning products. (Hey, if she was willing to clean the john, who am I to complain how she did it?)

In an attempt to continue the process of giving my swinging bachelor pad apartment a woman's touch, she also bought me a pot of yellow mums. They died after two weeks because I forgot to water them.

About seven months after we met, I left my job to take a different one that was in the northeast-ish end of town. Before I started looking for an apartment, we had a long discussion about whether or not she saw us moving in together. I explained that I would pay for a larger place for a while until she was ready to make the move. She said she wouldn't be ready for a long time. So, while I was looking for a single apartment (of course with MTM's help) I came across one that was literally down the road from her parents (perspective: her parents lived at #17, this basement apartment was #2). It wasn't the nicest, but it was cheap and it was close. I took it and moved in at the beginning of February 2001.

Shortly thereafter, I was cooking dinner in my kitchen by myself when I reached for the olive oil, only the olive oil wasn't where I had left it. A few other things were "misplaced" as well. It turned out that MTM had taken the opportunity to re-organize my kitchen while she was cooking earlier that week, and had not told me about it. We had a long talk about how yes, I wanted her to feel at home, but that she needed to respect the fact that this was someone else's home too. We came to an understanding.

In May 2001, she decided to quit all the pretending and said to me, "I'm ready to move in with you. And I'm not living here." That is not a misprint. I lived down the road from her parents' place for less than four months before she decided it was time to move in. "Long time"? Not so much.

TDS: 22 Month Reflections

Normally, you would expect me to be writing about news stories today since it is Tuesday. However, today is January 30, 2007, and that means my daughter is 22 months old today. It's time for some reflections.

I feel like I say this both to you and Mommy a lot lately, but you are growing up so quickly. I can hardly remember what it was like before you could control your little universe by walking to what you want and telling your mother and I what you think.

Locomotion
Your run has evolved from an uncontrolled stagger into a textbook run. Recently, you have begun experimenting with varying the pressure with which you place your feet down (although admittedly this is probably the result of us buying you pink running shoes with flowers that light up when you walk). You're getting better at walking in the snow in boots, although most of the time you end up stumbling around. You now climb and descend the stairs in an upright position, and usually remember to hold the railing without prompting. Thanks to your gymnastics classes, you are now actually capable of jumping and achieving a period of separation from the ground (also known as "air").

Arts and Crafts
You have recently been introduced to finger painting, and show a definitive interest in it as you have all other crafts. The miniature markers you received in your stocking have also led to many more drawings (although you still seem to prefer dumping them all on the floor rather than using them).

Manners
As your situational understanding develops, your application of the manners your mother and I have tried to instill in you is improving dramatically. You usually remember to say please when asking for something, and always remember to say thank you when something is received. (You also say thank you when you hand something to someone, as you model the way we taught you your manners.) You have also begun to master saying excuse me when navigating; although right now you say excuse me to things like my lunch cooler, your Curious George body pillow, and your tunnel.

Language
You are still picking up new words every day. You can often be found repeating facts and logical details aloud in an attempt to process the information and come to an understanding with your world. For example, this past weekend when Mommy was working you said to me (on more than one occasion), "Mommy is at work. Mommy come home later." And as time moved closer to her anticipated arrival, you demonstrated a deeper comprehension of the situation by asking to watch the driveway for the car your mother would be arriving in. You also are beginning to grasp the nuances of language, learning that sometimes you need to clarify your statements with adjectives in order to make yourself understood, such as the time you told me about the gorilla cuddling with mommy and immediately corrected yourself to say it was cuddling with gorilla mommy.

Singing And Music
Since both your mother and I love to play and listen to music, I suppose it was inevitable that you would too. However, as with many things, you have shocked us once again. Shortly before Christmas we noticed you singing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star to yourself in the car (without any music playing). This developed into a rabid interest in learning lyrics, especially Christmas songs, culminating in a Christmas Eve dinner rendition of Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer that left everyone begging for more. Your repertoire is growing (although as January nears its close we are still negotiating through Christmas songs). You can also identify music and relate it to other sources of media. For example, you will hear a song on CD and make a remark about it being on a home movie you watched.

Each day with you is a new adventure. As your personality develops, you become more interesting to behold. You are your own little person, with quirks and tweaks that I am slowly picking up. (As if living with your mother isn't difficult enough, now I need to learn your moods and cues as well!) You continue to make me proud. I love you so very much.

For those of you who were disappointed with the absence of news commentary, watch for a special edition of Newsday later this week.

TRS: Deals, Deals, Deals

Welcome to my Monday Morning Weekend Recap (forever abbreviated to MMWR because I can't be bothered to type that much). For the second consecutive weekend, there were no linens, no paint swatches, and no furniture stores in my life. It was a beautiful sight to behold.

Friday night we decided to rent a movie. It was a brilliant plan, except for the fact that our VOD (video on demand) service was down, which meant that (gasp) we had to leave the house to rent a movie. To make matters worse, the munchkin was particularly attached to MTM after dinner that night, so it was me who went. Why did it make matters worse? Well, I cannot pass on a good deal, regardless of whether or not it makes sense.

So I arrive at our local Blockbuster and discover that they are having a promotion: four previously viewed DVDs for $20! Being the math whiz I am, and (as just mentioned) an adamant deal seeker, I realized that $20 was just four cents more than renting four new releases. So I did what anyone would do: I bought four DVDs instead of renting one. The four I took home were all films that either I or both of us had seen trailers for and were eager to see, so it wasn't like I was buying for the sake of buying.

We watched one of the four on Friday night: The Island starring Ewan McGregor and Scarlett Johansson. We both really liked the film a lot.

Saturday morning (despite planning it to be my sleep-in day) I got up with the munchkin at the ungodly hour of 6am. We spent the early morning hanging out and watching her Curious George DVD. When Mommy finally got up, I passed off the toddler and went outside to clear the driveway of the 4cm of snow we had accumulated, and get the car cleaned and ready for her to take to work. (Sorry, no "Adventures with SciFi Dad and Small Motors" this week; I used a shovel!)

After MTM left for work, the munchkin and I puttered about the house. As I mentioned Friday, the weather has not been conducive to long stretches outdoors (at least not for a toddler) so we were stuck indoors for the day. Ironically, one of the first things the munchkin said was, "I'm going to make lunch for everybody." (I would later ask MTM whether or not she had previously given our daughter the indication that when Mommy was not around that the munchkin was in trouble for nutrition in her meals, and subsequently the child was told to feel responsible for her own meal preparation. No confirmation was given for my suspicions. However, no denial was issued either.)

After making sure lunch was cooking properly in the little plastic oven, the munchkin informed me that she was going to work with Mommy. She packed the cooler I usually bring my lunch in (with plastic bread and plastic green peppers) and headed toward the front door. Then she insisted I get out her winter coat and dress her for the winter elements she was sure to face. When quizzed about what she would be doing with Mommy at work, she informed me that she would be "cuddling and kissing".

During lunch, she took one of the peas she was being fed by me and rubbed it on her face. When questioned about what she was doing, she said she was "putting on makeup". Ooo-kaay. ( As an aside, I also fed her avocado, thank you very much. Oh, and hot dogs... so, nevermind.)

After lunch and a half-assed thirty minute nap, we were back on a roll. OK, not so much an exciting roll as a milestone type roll. You see, last weekend MTM decided that she would start the process of weaning the munchkin from bottles. So, Monday morning she told her that eventually they were going to put all her bottles in bag, and then they were going to say "bye bye" to them. Well, the munchkin was all on board for this, and immediately went to find a bag to put them in. Taking this as a sign she was ready, they collected all bottle paraphernalia and packed it away. Since then we have been on the "if it's got calcium, give her as much as she wants" dietary system, as she refused to drink milk out of anything we offer it in. So, when the munchkin asked for milk in her cup, and then drank it, I refilled. And then she drank some more! It was an exciting time, not only for us as a family, but also it was a small victory in the parenting world for the underdog guy who never gets to help his daughter reach a milestone.

At one point, while wearing her winter jacket, she disappeared into her tunnel. She stopped about halfway through and began to grunt. It started to come back to me. (Cue flashback sequence, complete with hazy visuals and weird-sounding voice effect) "She's been working on a poo most of the morning." Secretly I was hoping it would hold off until Mommy came back from work, and that in a fit of Mommy-guilt she'd change it. From the stench emanating from her tunnel, I knew that would not be the case. And then I saw the tunnel begin to sway. She was rolling around inside it.

"Nooo!!!"

I quickly coaxed her out of her tunnel, and being very careful not to apply pressure to the bottom of her bum, I carried her upstairs. When I removed the diaper I realized that it wouldn't have mattered if I had used her bottom to buff the hardwood. There was no way this poo could have been more, uhm, distributed. I'll leave the remainder of the details to your imagination.

The remainder of the afternoon passed without much incident, and after MTM returned home we decided to head out for dinner (mainly because I was feeling too lazy to cook). We also decided to stop at Indigo on the way home to allow the munchkin to play with the Thomas the Tank Engine table. What I witnessed that night will forever be in my memory. My daughter was easily the youngest of the several children at the table, yet she was by far the most polite. (Yeah, I'm bragging. My blog, my rules.) When other kids stole stuff from her, she didn't whine or complain; she simply went over and took it back, saying "Thank you" as she did so. When one kid who was hogging every fucking train on the table trying to make a long train misdirected her creation and all the trains fell on the floor, it was the munchkin who dropped what she was doing and went over and helped the girl pick up every.single.train that was on the floor. MTM and I were beaming.

Sunday we decided to hit the mall. As we entered Sears, MTM poked me and said, "Look at that tree. It's five dollars." It was one of three floor models that were on clearance. Then she grabbed my arm and made me cry, just a little more forcefully and said excitedly, " Oh.my.god. That one is $20!" That one was a seven foot, prelit tree. (For those new readers, please refer to my previous post, paragraph 2, to understand why having a prelit tree is so important to my wife.) So after making sure the thing wasn't a scam worked, we packed it in a mattress bag (seriously) and put it in the van. "Now we have two trees," she said. And I will likely have to haul both of them up the stairs every year. Luckily I only have to light one.

I spent the bulk of the afternoon on the phone with my cellular carrier trying to get them to understand why I wanted to get a hardware upgrade for the same price as someone who hasn't paid them faithfully for nearly three years. I'll be calling today in the hopes of resolving that one. (Like I said, always on the look out for deals.)

A Preview Of My Weekend

Thanks to everyone who posted theme suggestions yesterday. The ideas were all really good. To save you the time of going through the comments, the ideas offered so far are:

• Wednesday Wife Day
• Freedom Friday
• TechParent
• childhood memories

I'll continue taking suggestions today (and anytime, really), so please feel free to post them in the comments again today.

Tomorrow MTM has a rare work commitment that takes her out of the house (she sells advertising for a website, so the bulk of the work is online - tomorrow the website has a booth at a baby-themed event in town). This means that for the latter part of the morning and the better part of the afternoon, the munchkin and I will have a Daddy-Daughter day. (And of course, it comes during a bitter cold snap up here... the predicted low was -20C last night; that's -4F for my American readers... so we'll be stuck indoors.)

Now, regular readers know I'm not the kind of father who calls situations such as these "babysitting" (babysitting is something you do for a child that is not your own) nor am I the kind that panics about being solely responsible for her well-being (although someday when she's old enough to understand, my daughter may panic about that situation). Honestly, I'm pretty stoked about the whole thing, as I usually am.

Because I'm such a stickler for structure most of the time, I try really hard to let her dictate the flow of the day, thereby ensuring that there will be no structure whatsoever. Fortunately, when I ask her, "What do you want to do?" she never replies with the slacker standard, "I dunno; what d'you wanna do?" She always has ideas, and usually they last a few minutes before she moves on to something else (or the thing we're doing evolves into something else). I expect a lot of dancing (she is really into the Jack Johnson Curious George CD lately Please, save me) and many books being read, and probably watching some highlight packages thanks to the greatest invention of the 21st century NFL Network On Demand.

But really, it doesn't matter what we do, because we'll do it together. And (not to offend or disparage my wife, but) for a few hours I'll be the only game in town, and that'll be cool. It'll be nice not to have to pass her off when she asks for "Mommy cuddles", and instead offer more "Daddy cuddles". I'm sure once Mommy comes home, I'll welcome her presence, but while she's out I'll savour every moment.

TDS: "Give Kisses"

Last night I was talking to MTM about blogging. Specifically, I was talking about how Thursdays and Fridays are the hardest days to write for me because I don't have a routine for them. (For those of you who haven't figured the pattern out yet, Mondays are my weekend recap, Tuesday is Newsday, and Wednesday is "take a break and post pictures and videos" day.)

This led to the realization (not a sudden realization, but more of a reminder) that I spend very little time with the munchkin on a daily basis during the week. Between my work schedule and her sleep schedule, I see her for about three hours a day. Meanwhile, MTM gets twelve hours a day with our little bundle of energy. It's no wonder she's the one with all the cute anecdotes.

Rather than write another post about my abandonment guilt (FYI - there are a pile of links in that post to even more posts about this topic... I almost feel like this should be its own label) I'm going to try and share what little morsels of life I do have with my princess.

Tuesday night I got home from work and MTM came to me, toddler in arms, and said, "Watch this."

She then turned to the munchkin and said, "Munchkin, give Mommy kisses, please."

What followed was easily the cutest and most endearing thing she has done in quite a while. She kissed MTM on the lips, then each cheek, then put her little hands on the sides of MTM's head and pulled her head down and kissed her forehead. I stood there with a gap-mouthed smile for quite a few moments before it occurred to me:

"Munchkin, please give Daddy some kisses."

"Daddy take glasses off please." (Damn, this kid is a planner... have I mentioned lately that she's 21 months old?)

After removing my glasses, she kissed me on the lips, then each cheek, then each shoulder, then each ear, and finally on the forehead before giving me a huge hug and resting her head on my shoulder.

Now, what was I lamenting before?

In all seriousness, I'm a very routine-oriented individual. The more structure I create for myself, the better off I am. So to that end I ask you, dear reader, to suggest some themes you would like to see here. I'd prefer not to be a photo blog Wednesday to Friday, so please don't ask me to post tons more images and videos. However, any other ideas are welcome. If I pick yours, you can even name it. How's that?

TNS: International Edition

Today we have stories from four different countries. Therefore, in the interest of keeping this from becoming Tolstoy-esque, my commentary will be more brief today.

First, we have a report from China about an online survey (Note that this page has been taken down; the title is all that remains. Update: I found another source for the story here). According to the results, 60% of all respondents feel that the wealthy are abusing the family planning policy that has been in place in China since the late 1970s. The policy dictates that each married couple is permitted to produce one offspring, and is the result of overpopulation concerns in the country, particularly urban areas. Violations of this policy are subject to various punishments including fines. According to the report, many of the rich families are having more than their allocated quota of children either by simply paying the fines (which are apparently too low to be a detriment) or going to the black market to obtain forged or otherwise illegal documentation legitimizing the birth.

As I researched this policy, I learned of more concerns, including the current increase (note that this article replaced the original; both links can be found via a search for the term "family planning" on Google News) from in ratio of male to female births (in 2005 this ratio reached 118:100, where the natural/expected ratio is around 103:100 to 107:100), likely caused by the belief that a male child is more desirable (either for cultural or earning potential reasons). I cannot really comment any further on this subject matter, as I live in a country with very low population densities and a very different socio-economic system. Any opinions I have cannot be applied to China, where overpopulation is prevalent and a socialist government and economy are present.

Second, from Canada we have a story about a new tutoring fee being imposed by a public school board for students in junior grades (4 to 6). The service is provided by certified teachers not currently working in the board.

In effect, this is creating a two-tier public education system. Parents who can afford the tutor fees will be able to better educate their children within the school system than those without such disposable income. Of course certain tutoring services outside the schools are available and have been for years. However, these were never provided, nor endorsed by the school board. If a parent wanted to get their child "extra help" they were going outside the school to acquire this. Now the school board is trying to profit off this market.

Third, from Bermuda we have a story about divorced fathers getting a better chance in custody hearings than in the previously mother-centric family law system. The article cites countries such as Australia, the US, Canada and the UK, which have implemented or are moving in the direction of implementing, more equal means of determining custody arrangements and agreements.

There really isn't much to be said here except to laud the Childwatch group (the lobby group that is championing the cause) for its diligence and encourage the government to implement more fair methods to allow men to have input into raising their children after the unfortunate event of a divorce.

Finally, we have a story from the US, where a woman has adopted herself a new set of parents. An interesting case, the woman's relationship had become so damaged with her biological family that she was effectively told not to return to them ever again. So, she turned to the classifieds, where she advertised herself as seeking parents. She was taken in by a couple who were married after losing their spouses.

Interestingly, the article does not mention any legal efforts the family or the woman followed. Subsequently I suspect she didn't legally adopt the parents, but rather was taken into their family. Nonetheless, it is an interesting take on the concept of family.

The Brief Side
An ethical dilemma comes from a story in Saskatchewan, where a man has been convicted of murder for killing his daughter's boyfriend. On the surface it sounds reasonable, but when you factor in that she was 16 and the boyfriend was 24 and had gotten her addicted to morphine, it doesn't seem so clear.

Here is some advice about babyproofing before the baby arrives. Because, you know, nobody is doing anything else while preparing for a baby.

This is an interesting article in the nature versus nurture debate.

And finally, a "diaperless baby"? Really?

TRS: Something Pretty For My Girls

Welcome to another Monday Morning Recap Of Our Weekend. For those of you who have come expecting a trip to a furniture, paint, linen, or hardware store, you can move along. There were no such events this weekend. Now that we have that taken care of, just sit back, relax, and enjoy.

Friday afternoon I hopped out of work a little early and picked up my sister who was in town for a lecture and took her back to our place for the evening. We had Chinese take-out and talked, and talked, and talked (if you knew my sister you'd get the joke). MTM seized the opportunity to not have to spend time with me surfed the 'net for the bulk of the evening while my sister and I watched Office Space because she had never seen it, and felt compelled to because her best friend is dating a guy who worked in production on it. (As an aside, it is fun to watch a movie with my sister because she spent the last ten years in school studying literature and pop culture and what not. So, when we watch a movie she comments on stuff like the juxtaposition of gangsta rap music playing while a bunch of caucasian white collar cubicle dwellers "lay a beat down" on a printer.)

Saturday morning I was granted the opportunity to sleep in while MTM got up with the munchkin. I gladly took this opportunity and slept in until 9am. I don't even remember the last time I slept in until 9am, seriously. Since three adults needed to shower, I decided to grab mine before all the hot water was gone first to get the process started. When I went downstairs I felt foolish because winter finally got the memo and decided to come to the party. With a few inches of fresh powder down, and a friend from the old neighbourhood coming, I decided to go out and clean the driveway off.

"You just showered. You'll need another one after shoveling all that snow," my lovely wife said as I walked out the door.

Ah, but you see, dear reader, I had a plan. When my in-laws moved out of their house we inherited their snow-blower. I figured I'd just let the motor do the work, and avoid getting all sweaty. So, out the blower came, and I went through the instructions my FIL had given me at Christmas:
Turn switch to "On". Check
Prime the motor. Crap. How many times did he say to do that? OK, let's try three.
Pull the cord. Check. Woo hoo! It's running. But why is it so choppy? Wait... wait... nonono... Crap. It stopped.

Now seems a good a time as any to inform you that my father only uses electric lawnmowers, and since I cannot justify sitting behind something that spews carbon monoxide at me for an hour once a week all summer, I too have an electric lawnmower. That means that other than the few times I cut my in-laws lawn one summer, I have never used a small internal combustion engine.

So with one failed attempt under my belt, I begin to review the device. I had made use of all but one switch/button/toggle on the unit, so I figured that last piece was the cause of my failure. Knowing what I know about small motors, I figured this was the choke. Ah ha! Finally some use comes from that engineering degree! So I pulled the choke out, primed it, and pulled. This time it started and continued to run. Excited, I pushed it forward. Sadly, no snow was blown. Oh wait. The "dead man's switch" on this doesn't kill the motor, just the blade. So, I closed the dead-man's switch and voila! Snow is spewing forth from the discharge. Hmm... that's a pretty weak stream. Maybe if I move forward it'll accumulate and make a more impressive stream. Nope. Jeez... this thing sucks... what an anemic looking discharge of snow.

And so it continued down the length of the driveway and back up. Then, it occurred to me. Crap. Did I leave the choke out? Yep. Well, let's get 'er back in. Woohoo! Now she's humming! Let's go run over some snow... DAMN... now that's a stream!

When I was finished I came inside. The first thing my sister said to me was, "Dude, that thing stinks. We could smell the exhaust in the house." And all I could think was, If you think that stinks from in the house, try riding behind it.

Then, MTM walked by me and said, "You smell like gas. You have to shower again." Curses! Foiled again.

We spent the afternoon with a friend of ours that lived a couple blocks away while we were growing up. (The three of us - the friend, my sister, and I - used to drive to school every day once I got a car.) It was nice to catch up and find out what everyone had been up to. Admittedly, she is in closer contact with my sister than with me, but it was nice nonetheless. (And supposedly she is reading this blog now... so if you are there, hi SS.)

After that, the munchkin went down for a nap, and I suggested to MTM that she could go do the grocery run we were planning to do Sunday by herself if she wanted. (Aside: I suggested this not to avoid the grocery store, but rather because my wife often says it's nice to get out and do errands like groceries without a toddler. So, I was trying to be nice.) She did end up going out, and while she was gone, the munchkin awoke from her nap and asked for some milk. She put her head on my shoulder and drank about one ounce before falling asleep again, this time on me. So I carefully twisted to a more comfortable position, and enjoyed a rare shared nap with my baby little girl.

When MTM came home we woke up and the munchkin immediately went to her Mommy for some cuddles. I asked her, "So was shopping alone all that you hoped it would be?"

"It was OK. But it would have been nicer if it was when I normally go shopping, like Wednesday morning."

"Wait. So it'd be easier if you could go out in the middle of a weekday morning by yourself? So what, you want to be a stay-at-home mom, but only if I'm there to watch the kid while you go shopping?"

"No, that's not what I said. I said it was busy on a Saturday afternoon because of a big sale."

"All I heard was that you want me to stay home and watch the munchkin while you go out and shop all day."

And just like that... the conversation was over. Not because anyone said anything else, but because I knew from the look my wonderful wife was giving me, that it was better for my health if I stopped now, because I am a much more sound sleeper than she is, and well, let's just leave it at that.

Saturday after dinner was Daddy-daughter time. In hindsight, there wasn't anything specifically spectacular about the playtime, aside from the duration (she usually loses interest in me within twenty minutes) and the amount of boisterous laughter MTM could hear from where she was. I was a Daddy jungle gym, lying on my side about six inches from the sofa. She would use me as a climbing apparatus to get up there, then come down and crawl over my legs, then wander around the living room getting a blanket to cover me with. Interspersed among all the fun were the frequent pauses where she would smile at me, come over, wrap her little arms around my neck, and give me a huge smooch. "I love you Daddy."

Sunday morning we let Mommy sleep in while we fed her dolls and watched the Curious George movie again. It kind of cute, actually. While she was disturbingly transfixed by the television, I noticed something different: she was mouthing the words to the annoyingly serene while still upbeat Jack Johnson music playing in the background. Are they supposed to be learning the lyrics to songs they see on movies? Is this normal?

After lunch we went to the mall at my request. Earlier last week I had some moderate success in salary negotiation, and as has become a tradition, when this happens I "buy something pretty" for my girls. MTM has earrings and necklaces and other gifts from previous times, dating back to when we were together about six months. So, Sunday we went out to get the munchkin a new tent since she was standing up in the one we had (from MTM's classroom) and it looked dangerous. I also not-so-secretly hoped to convince MTM to let her have a bag of plastic balls to go inside the tent. After much hemming and hawing over sizes and styles (we knew we were buying something from a specific store which had a number of designs and sizes) we decided on a slightly larger one because the smaller one would be outgrown within the year at the rate this kid is growing. And we got balls! A bag of 100 to be more precise! As I was paying MTM heard the munchkin say, "Thank you, Daddy, for my new tent!" How sweet is that?

We came home and decided to leave the tent in the back of the van and tire her out in the snow. She wasn't all that enthused with it, so after a bit of play we went in and put the munchkin down for a nap. Meanwhile, we assembled the tent and put the balls in it. I was so excited to show it to the munchkin that I almost went into her room and woke her up. Finally, she got up and wanted only Mommy and milk. Come ON! Eventually she noticed the tent and crawled inside. Almost immediately she came out with a long jewelery box, and handed it to MTM (as I instructed her). Inside was MTM's "something pretty": a necklace with a rectangular pink stone (I forget what it is called).

We closed out the weekend watching a little football on tv, from the confines of her tent. All in all, a pretty good weekend.

TDS: Discipline

When it comes to enforcing rules, following routines, and maintaining a structure, in our house MTM ends up being in charge of it most of the time. It's not that I don't think rules are important, it's just that I'm a big softie and the munchkin has me wrapped around her little finger (and sometimes I think she knows this). I do my best, I really do. But a lot of the time I let things slide, or I give in to her demands. I think a lot of it is based in the guilt I feel for not being around. That manifests itself as a fear that she won't like me because I "abandon" her every day. And so I try to "win her back" by being less strict than Mommy.

I know, I know. I'm making it harder on both of us in the long run. I really am trying to get better at it. Believe me.

Last night I worked particularly late (for me), and arrived home to find dinner nearly cooked. I played with the munchkin for a bit before dinner was served, and shortly after that MTM gave me the sign that it was time for her bath. Feeling like I didn't spend enough time with her that day, (after clearing this with MTM) I offered the munchkin the choice of a bath in her tub or one with me in our soaker. She immediately jumped into my arms and asked me to carry her upstairs.

MTM offered to help, but I was feeling pretty confident that I could handle it myself. Big mistake.

As soon as we got upstairs, the munchkin bolted out of my arms and sprinted to our bedroom (the only access to our bathroom where the soaker tub is) and slammed the door behind her. I told her not to do that, and opened it and went inside, closing it behind me to keep her in our room. I told her to be patient while I got things set up. About five seconds later I noticed her holding paper that looked too nice to be scraps. It turns out she had discovered a pile of stuff MTM had left on her dresser, pulled it all down, and started rummaging and throwing it. I then called for MTM to help clean up her stuff (I had no idea what to do with it) and took the munchkin into the bathroom with me and closed the door. I sat her on the floor and told her if she kept misbehaving that we would not have a bath together. I asked her to please stay put while I finished getting the bath ready.

No sooner had I begun to undress did she stand up and start undressing herself. I let it slide, figuring she was just excited and trying to be helpful. Then, she took off her sock and walked over to the (already filled) tub. I told her "NO" but she just looked at me, smiled, and threw the sock into the water. As I reached in to get the sock out, she took off her other and tried to throw it in as well.

OK, so where do I go from here? I thought to myself. I could just ignore the behaviour, be the pushover I always am, and move on. Or, I could follow through on my warning/consequence. I chose the latter, and it was easily one of the worst moments of my life. She didn't cry, she didn't fuss. She just put her head down and looked solemnly at the floor.

Then I pulled the plug out of the tub, picked her up, and called for MTM to give her the bath (I wasn't sure if I had to not get into the tub or completely remove myself from her bath that night; plus I was pretty pissed off at that point). Then the munchkin freaked out. She cried, she pleaded. It broke my heart and more than once I wanted to just drop everything and get into the tub with her. But I didn't. In the end she was fine and everything worked out. But I still felt like crap for the rest of the night.

Sometimes, this parenting gig sucks.

TTS: What We Learned When I Left Town

A little less than a year ago, I had to go out of town for work. While some people in my office travel often, and enjoy it, I am not one of those individuals. I made it very clear to my boss that I had no interest in working out of country, and for the most part he respected my wishes. Unfortunately, this was one time where travel could not be avoided. So, after coming to an understanding about overtime pay (I am salaried, but this trip was going to be some long days) I agreed to go.

In the days leading up to my departure, I began to panic about my relationship with the munchkin. She had always been agreeable to spending time with me, but she was still "Mommy's Girl" more than anything. My fear was that her little attention-span would forget me while I was gone. MTM did not share my concern, but supported whatever measures I felt were necessary to ensure I wasn't forgotten. I went into our office one night with a stack of four of the munchkin's favourite books. I setup our digital camera on my tripod and made videos of myself reading these books to her. I also included a personal message (i.e. just me speaking to her, not reading a book). I then authored a DVD with these clips so that she could watch them on the television. Also, MTM had made a photo album of photos of the munchkin and I for a trip she had taken to her parents' cottage when the munchkin was about four months old. She updated it with more recent photos.

I spent a lot of time with the munchkin the weekend before I left. I tried to hold her and cuddle her as much as I could during that time. I whispered in her ear, and frequently had to pass her off to MTM because I didn't want the munchkin to worry about me crying. (Aside: I'm not ashamed to cry in front of people; I just didn't want the munchkin to worry about something she couldn't understand.)

While I was gone, MTM showed the munchkin the DVD often, as she would ask for it a lot. Every night they had a routine where after the last bedtime book, they would take out the "Daddy Book" (the album) and look at the pictures and talk about how I was in Raleigh and how I was coming home soon and how I loved them. Within a few days, the munchkin was sleeping with her arm around the album in her crib. I called home every night, but most nights by the time I got to the hotel is was well past the munchkin's bedtime. The few times I did speak to her over the phone, she lit up and smiled, according to MTM.

I returned after twelve days away. It was late at night, and since the munchkin was still waking for middle of the night feeds at the time, I slept in the office since we didn't know how she'd react to seeing me. In the morning, MTM brought her into the office and passed her off to me. She clung to me more tightly than she ever had. She put her head on my shoulder and just clung to me. When I passed her off to MTM so I could get some clothes on before going downstairs, she freaked out and struggled out of MTM's grasp to get back to me.

We went downstairs to the livingroom where my suitcase was filled with clothes, toys, and Gerber baby products not available in Canada. We opened it and showed it to the munchkin. She took a light-up rubber duck in one hand, but that was all the interest she had in the new things. All she wanted to do was cling to me and rest her head on my shoulder.

When a call came about three or four weeks later that they wanted me back for another brief stint, I felt so awful. The feelings of panic about being forgotten were replaced by an overwhelming guilt for putting my daughter through such discomfort. Nonetheless, I again packed up and left my girls.

With the second trip, MTM took a different approach. Instead of constantly reminding the munchkin I was gone, she let the munchkin remember on her own. When she asked for the DVD, MTM put it on for her. When she asked to see the "Daddy Book", they sat together and talked about the pictures they saw. But there wasn't a big deal made about my absence. She didn't sleep with the photo album at all the second trip.

When I returned home (this time in the afternoon when the munchkin was awake) the munchkin was happy to see me, but nowhere near as clingy as she was the first time. It was interesting to see the difference in her behaviour. She still remembered me (of course looking back I realize that the idea that she would forget me after a couple weeks was foolish, but I was new to this dad business, so cut me some slack) and she was happy I was home, but she wasn't engrossed in my presence the way she was after the first trip.

We learned a valuable lesson from those two trips. Children take their cues from their parents a lot more than we realize. Since we had made a big deal about my departure and absence, she in turn made it a big deal to herself. When we handled it more maturely or calmly, she in turn did the same. It was an important step in our development as parents.

TNS: Embryo Banks And Support For Multiple Births

The first story for today comes from Texas, where a woman is running an "embryo bank" out of her home. The FDA is investigating her operation, which involves a physician using donated sperm and eggs to create embryos. The woman then sells these embryos to couples. Of note, only sperm from males with doctorate degrees will be used in the project, and only eggs from "young, intelligent, attractive" females will be chosen.

Setting aside the sexist nature of the qualifications (an ugly father is acceptable if he's got a PhD but the mother has to be attractive, the woman does not need to have a degree) which provide an opportunity for a completely different debate, let's look at what the business is doing.

Artificial insemination and subsequent implantation are commonly accepted forms of conception in modern society. If the woman is infertile, having the couple seek out an egg donor, using technology to fertilize that egg with the man's sperm, and implanting it in the infertile woman's uterus is completely acceptable to society and does not raise many eyebrows (outside some religious groups). A similar argument can be made for an infertile man.

In this case, the woman's business is just taking two halves of the above arguments (in other words, both the sperm and egg are donated instead of one of the two coming from the couple directly), so why does this present a problem? Since the FDA isn't used as a moral compass, their investigation is a legal one. However, it is more than likely that at least some readers are bothered by the service this woman provides. The question is, why?

My suspicion is that the lack of either partner contributing genetic material plays a part, as does the absence of infertility (although it is likely some of the woman's clients are infertile, there is no such prerequisite for consideration). The clients that use this service appear to be using technology to produce offspring that they believe are superior to themselves somehow.

While I don't personally have an issue with this business, I can understand how some people would take issue with it. It certainly does bring up thoughts of selective genetics, "designer babies", and even the concept of a master race. It is definitely something to think about.

Our second article relates to a major news story here in Canada where a woman has recently given birth to sextuplets (of which only five have survived, according to a recent report). According to the article, some people are calling for changes to the current laws relating to parental leave, specifically asking for additional government-supported time off to care for and establish a bond with their children.

While I understand the reason for the request, I cannot completely agree with it. Incidents of multiple births are extremely rare, especially for greater than two children. However, the number of these instances is on the rise statistically, due to an increase in the popularity and availability of fertility drugs. And therein lies my problem.

I certainly feel that the current parental leave laws here in Canada are more reasonable than those of other countries like the US. However, making them even more generous because people took fertility drugs and as a consequence of taking those drugs are now in a poor financial state isn't the answer. These people know the risks (or should be reasonably expected to know the risks) associated with fertility drugs before they take them. Now that the worst case scenario has manifested itself, they feel it is the government's responsibility to help them? The harsh reality is that the government is already helping them by providing free neonatal care to all the children. How much more do they expect?

The first problem I see with this is the slippery slope argument: how does one enforce such a rule? Does a couple with twins count as multiple births? Do they get less of an extension than a couple with triplets? In the article, some of the argument relates to recovery time for multiple births requiring a longer hospital stay than traditional births; so what about women with delivery complications and/or c-sections? Do they qualify for additional parental leave? It all just feels like some kind of bonus system to me.

Secondly, in the majority of cases (i.e. I am excluding naturally occurring multiple births) the government would be supporting these people because of the side-effect of a drug. Yes, it is very different in terms of intent, but how is this any different from someone who asks the government to support them because they cannot hold a steady job because they took too much heroin as a teenager? (Note that I am not comparing fertility drugs to heroin. I am merely saying that in both cases the people are in the condition they are in because of a drug they took, not some other reason.) Extrapolating the argument, isn't it possible some people will take fertility drugs in order to qualify for more parental leave? Do we want to encourage this?

And the second argument raises a third question: if the multiple births are naturally occurring, does that provide some different case? If we don't want to reward those who take fertility drugs, but still want to help those with naturally occurring births, how can we be certain which case applies? And how are naturally occurring births different from those that are the result of fertility drugs? (OK, now I'm arguing with myself about this subject. Time to wrap it up.)

Personally, I just see too many complications and potential inconsistencies in the application of such a practice to make is plausible.

The article was saying the parents of multiples should get more than those of singles. The argument was that multiples took more recovery time and more effort overall. So then a c-section delivery should get more leave than a vaginal delivery with tearing, who should get more than a vaginal delivery without tearing. And as the number of offspring increases, you get more time off (since whether the 2 kids are both infants or one is and one isn't doesn't make them require and less effort). In effect, you could argue that having twins is just as hard as having a newborn with a toddler already in the family.

The Brief Side
For those of you with school-aged children, here is an article that gives some good advice about talking to your child's teacher.

This is a story about an Ontario mother who is running for a seat in provincial parliament because she feels the Ontario Liberals have failed to keep a campaign promise to provide better autism support in elementary schools. The woman's child is autistic.

In the "well, duh" department, we have news of a study that found that television violence is on the rise. And on a not-so-completely unrelated note, this study has found that parents are more in control of how much television their children watch as well as what programs they are allowed to view.

Here is some advice about discipline which I found very informative.

This is an article about how sibling relationships can have an impact on long term care decisions for older parents. It also discusses ways to help mediate the conflicts that arise in such circumstances.

TRS: Returning To The Mothership

This Saturday we returned to the mothership. More specifically, my wonderful wife's mothership. It called (collect, but we accepted the charges) and we answered. This is the story.

On Friday night I suggested to my wife that we should go to a particular mall on Saturday. This mall contains the only Pottery Barn Kids in the area, and I thought it would be an ideal place to look for more crap for the munchkin's new room. She rejected the idea, reminding me that we had already been there recently and thus a return trip was not necessary. That hasn't stopped you from repeatedly going to other stores. (Fortunately, I only thought this. Sometimes I'm not as stupid as people think I am.)

Saturday morning we were awakened on the early side (a shock, I'm sure, to all my regular readers) and I got an idea even more brilliant than the one from the previous night. So, in between dodging heel-kicks to the spleen from the toddler trapped cuddled between us, I suggested we head to... Ikea.

Now, dear reader, allow me to explain how monumental an accomplishment it is, not only to to have me suggest a trip to Ikea, but to do so on a Saturday morning. I first experienced Ikea when I moved into my first apartment out of university. I went there and marvelled at how I could buy furniture, put it in my little Mercury Topaz, and take it home immediately instead of waiting for delivery. When I arrived home and discovered that the Swedish people were only aware of the existence of one tool (the almighty allen key) I was less than impressed. But, it was fast and cheap, and shopping there was easy (no sales people coming up to me so often that I have to do a Rain Man impression swatting imaginary flies from my ear... it has happened people, it has happened). And then I went there with MTM. And we had to stop at every.single.display. And we had to talk about how that pseudo-room was similar to elements in our home. And we (I) had to calculate the total cost of certain elements in that pseudo-room, should we decide to use them in our home. It didn't matter if we were going there to buy some glasses or some paper napkins. We had to see all the furniture. It got to the point where at one visit I asked if I could sit in the car and slowly peel my skin off with a teaspoon while she went through the store. That did not go over well.

Since then, I have (very slowly) come around to the occasional Ikea visit. We have come to understand that we do not need to see every.single.display. And that has helped, tremendously. I just could not wrap my head around spending 20 minutes looking at kitchens when we were there to look at living room furniture.

So, we packed up the family and made our way to the Ikea. As we descended upon the outlet mall in the vicinity, it occurred to me: Crap. There's a Homesense there. And a Solutions. Maybe she won't realize until we're gone.

"You know, there's a Homesense near here," came the voice from the passenger seat.

Crap. Crappity crap crap.

We decided to go to Ikea first, since that store had the propensity to turn into a raving madhouse become more crowded early. As we entered the building, the munchkin declared that she was hungry. Never being one to pass up an opportunity to skip part of the never-ending browsing breakfast sausage, I suggested I take her to the restaurant for the famed $1 breakfast (which included sausage) while MTM did a recon mission.

There I was, in the cafeteria style restaurant at Ikea, pushing a cart with four omni-directional wheels (why is it Ikea is the only place not to figure out that two fixed directional and two omni-directional wheels are optimal for forward motion?) with one hand while balancing a plate of food on a tray with the other, all the while trying to avoid the grasps of the toddler who so desperately wanted the scrambled eggs. I won't even tell you about the ketchup pump. It was probably funny if you weren't me.

We grabbed a table, and after a brief survey of the immediate area I determined there were no highchairs, and decided to have a "special" breakfast by allowing her to sit in a regular chair beside me. I went to the diaper bag to get a bib and after turning it inside out I concluded that there was no bib inside. Excellent. So to recap: greasy breakfast, no highchair, no bib. Anyone want to ask me about my issues with Ikea?

Honestly, in spite of the concerns outlined above, we had a really good breakfast. We talked and laughed and she enjoyed what was edible on the plate (I got part of a sausage and some potatoes, she took the croissant and the remaining sausage and a few bites of egg). Surprisingly, there was limited collateral damage, even after I let her feed herself. It was fun.

MTM came back and the three of us went to look at various bed alternatives (toddler beds, bunk beds) and their corresponding furniture options. The munchkin quite enjoyed being encouraged to take a running start and jump up on a variety of beds. Unfortunately, she also enjoyed running wind sprints in between displays, meaning that one of us had to chase her quite often. But whatever, she enjoyed herself.

After Ikea, we (foolishly) decided to let the munchkin determine whether we went home, or to do more shopping. Without missing a beat, she replied, "More shopping please Daddy." I mean, how am I supposed to say no to that?

We navigated our way out of Ikea (with no use of the horn or a middle finger, I might add) and into the plaza with Homesense and Solutions. While in Homesense, the munchkin informed me that she needed to look at towels. She then proceeded to tell me which ones she "needed". Sadly, my daughter seems to have inherited the congenital linen addiction her mother and maternal grandmother have. We're not optimistic about a cure, but we can hope.

Then, we walked next door to Solutions. For those of you who are unfamiliar with the store, Solutions is a storage store. They sell stuff to hold all your stuff, and not much else. While Mommy wandered about the store, the munchkin and I spent fifteen minutes going through the lint removal section. No, that is not a typo, nor is it a joke. Fifteen minutes with sticky rollers and fabric brushes and depilling razors. She was fascinated, and none of them were even open to play with. It was at this time that I became very afraid.

After Solutions, we were in need of sustenance. We decided to go to East Side Mario's in spite of previous experience and were pleasantly surprised. Everything was cooked and prepared well. And we got the munchkin her own meal off the kid's menu, which, for anyone who doesn't know, means she got her own dessert of three mini ice cream cones (pictured throughout this post). She absolutely loved the ice cream (and the pasta too, but mostly the ice cream) and we had a fabulous time.

When asked later if this morning at the mothership was the best, MTM informed me that the only thing that would have made it perfect would have been if we could go to Target, because apparently it is the single greatest creation humanity has ever produced: far superior to things like antibiotics, the automobile, and fire. Fortunately for me, dear reader, Target has not expanded into Canada yet. Otherwise, my Saturday would have been:

Solutions
Homesense
Ikea
Target

Ah crap... did I just say the loud part quiet and the quiet part loud again?

TDS/TWS: Vignettes

I am finding it difficult to come up with a good post, so in lieu of that, I offer six anecdotes; two about each member of our little family.

The Munchkin
When she was first born, we had her in a cradle we inherited from the landlords of our basement apartment. They were finished having children so they gave it to us. The munchkin slept in it for less than a week. One night when all three of us were sleeping in our room (MTM in the middle of the bed by herself to facilitate nursing via the "football" hold necessitated by her c-section, me on the recliner/nursing chair, and the munchkin in the cradle) I awoke with a start because of a loud thud. As I slowly drifted back to sleep, the thud returned! I stood up and thanks to the minimal lighting we maintained at all times, I was able to see what was going on. While the munchkin slept, she would have muscle spasms that caused her arms to extend straight outward to her sides. She had such a tremendous wingspan that she was whacking her hands on the bars of the cradle!

Another (more brief) story: up until MTM got tough and decided the munchkin needed to learn to sleep on her own, I had a nice little routine. I'd come home from work about 20 minutes before a pretty standard nap time for the munchkin. I'd take her from MTM and we'd "play". "Play" developed as she did. First it was me singing while she cradled in my arms and eventually it was more interactive. After about 20-30 minutes, the munchkin would yawn and rub her eyes. I'd take her in my arms and put my feet up and the two of us would sleep while MTM did whatever she needed to do.

MTM
When we first moved into our basement apartment, MTM didn't know what to do with herself. After more than twenty years of living with her mother who was very restrictive over kitchen access (she has her ways and her ideas), MTM had her own kitchen. Every.single.day of the first week in our apartment I came home to find the kitchen completely re-organized. Every night was an adventure consisting of, "If I were MTM, where would I put..." Unfortunately, she also did a re-org the morning before she left me for a cottage week! I must have called her 20 times that Friday night, asking where she put everything.

We spent the Christmas MTM was pregnant with the munchkin at her parents' cottage. Unlike this year, there was a significant amount of snow, and MTM (six months pregnant) wanted to toboggan. We went out, and I pulled her on the flat surface at the bottom of the hill. The first few starts she jerked backwards due to inertia and she said her back was hurting. So, doing what any good husband (who knows the wrath of pregnancy hormones) would do, I went inside and got the padded chair off the boat and strapped it to the toboggan. I then proceeded to drag her back and forth across a 15m stretch of flat ground, slowly while she giggled and said, "Yay".

Me
When I was eight years old I discovered stove fuses (the kind with standard lightbulb threading) on my father's workbench in the basement. I asked him what kind of lights those were, and he explained that they weren't lights, they were just fuses. Convinced I knew more than my father about electronics (and you know this isn't going to end well) I took one of the fuses and brought it into our rec room. I then went and got a light socket on the end of an electrical cord/plug that my father had for a work light. I screwed the fuse into the socket. Ha. I knew it would fit. And then I plugged my contraption into the wall receptacle. After calling my father to put out the carpet fire I had started, I knew that fuses were, in fact, not lights.

I have three tattoos. For those of you who aren't familiar with the basic premise of getting a custom tattoo, you go in with your design and they look at it and estimate a cost based on how long it would take. For my third, I had a three inch diameter design that I wanted done, and they quoted me $200 for three hours (it was the mid-90s). In twenty-five minutes I left with a completed tattoo (costing me $80; their minimum charge) and the awe of the artist who said (and I quote) "Drawing on you was like drawing on paper. You didn't flinch or ask me to stop once."

TTS: My Parenting Manifesto

I came across a manifesto project geared towards parents being co-ordinated by RebelDad. The concept is simple: create a manifesto of no more than 500 words about parenting or a related subject. Now, those who read this site regularly will know that I am not one who is known for being brief, so this was an interesting challenge. I encourage all of you to go read the other manifestos at his site, and write one of your own. You'll be surprised what comes out.

Speak to your child as you would like to spoken to, using words from your language, not baby-talk or babble. Realize that everything you are doing is new to them. Explain it as you go along. Talk to them and encourage them to talk to you. Helping them communicate is the greatest gift you can give them.

Protect your child, not just from danger but from fear. Keep them safe from anything that can harm them as well as anything that they believe can harm them. When possible, keep the harsh realities such as war and violence away from their eyes and ears. The world will show them these things soon enough.

Educate your child. You are their number one source of information, their first and most constant teacher. Read with them, and encourage them to read to you. Don't worry about whether it's "right" or "wrong", that will come with time. Remember, what they learn from you will be with them long after their schooling is forgotten.

Care for your child. Provide for all their needs: physical and emotional, tangible and intangible. When they are hungry, feed them. When they are cold, warm them. When they are sad, comfort them. When they are frightened, make them feel safe. But most of all, spend time with them: it is the best care they can have.

Identify with your child. Demonstrate that you know how they feel, and acknowledge their feelings. Let them know it is OK to feel sad or angry or happy or scared, and that no matter what you will always be on their side. Show them how to handle their emotions in a proper way by demonstrating emotional maturity yourself. They will learn best from watching you.

Accept your child. They may not be the person you are, or the person you want them to be, but they are still special people and deserve to be told and treated as such. Make sure they know how important they are to you, and that you will support them in whatever their life brings. Remember that while you gave them life, it is up to them what is to be done with it.

Love your child. Love them like the precious treasures that they are. Hold them, caress them, show them that affection and touch are good things. Give them kisses and hugs, because before they can understand that you love them they can feel it. Hold them in your arms, or hold hands, or just let them sit next to you with your arm around their shoulder. And tell them you love them, even if they should know better. It is still nice to be told someone loves you.

TNS: Public Health Care Produces Robots

Before we begin today, a random fact about my post from yesterday: it was the most commented on post on my blog thus far, excluding three Thursday Thirteens I did back in October. Apparently my readership wants more stories about young children kissing and my suffering with bed linens. No wonder society is going to hell in a handbasket.

Today's article opens by congratulating the mothers of the first few babies born in 2007 in the author's hometown. Unfortunately, this praise is tongue-in-cheek, as the author proceeds to explain how the welfare system in the US and the possible government-funded health care system for "poor children and their 'families' (in most cases the single mom)" will encourage women to become single mothers. He also goes on to suggest that the system will culminate in "a massive, all-controlling state bureaucracy" where the population will be "mindless and robotic ciphers dependent on the dictates of the state". Finally, he says that "the destruction of the family is a crucial step in this direction".

First, as a mindless and robotic cipher living in a country with government-funded health insurance, I am unaware of an abundance of single mothers here. In fact, a quick search indicated that approximately 20% of children in Canada are in single parent homes, while in the United States the number is about 30%. Using the same sweeping logic the author uses, one could argue that public health care reduces the incidents of single parents. However, that would be short-sighted. In reality there are many factors that influence the number of single mothers. In addition to obvious situations like death and divorce, there are other considerations such as inadequate education about contraception.

What is more disconcerting is the implication that all single mothers are receiving government assistance. Since the proposed public health insurance system the author discusses is only applicable to those already receiving government assistance, the implication that public health insurance would lead to an increase in the number of single mothers also implies that these mothers will be on welfare. Not only is this insulting to many professional single mothers who are raising their children without assistance, financial or otherwise, but it also ignores many of the socioeconomic conditions that exist in western civilization that effectively force some single mothers on welfare. In many cases a woman is still paid less for the same job that a man does. And in some instances it is more financially advantageous for a single mother to stay home and raise her children on welfare than to seek employment and subsequently child care for her kids. These are the factors that create the "single mother on welfare" phenomenon; not the availability of free doctor visits.

The author also implies that by making single mothers socially acceptable ("making" them more socially acceptable? they already are acceptable) is the beginning of the destruction of the family. I will use an analogy I have used several times in the past for this argument: if single mothers are tearing at the fabric of society by "destroying families", and a soldier's death in Iraq subsequently creates a single mother, and that soldier is in Iraq because of a decision of the US government, does that mean that the US government is destroying families?

Finally, the author states that eventually children will grow up in "an utterly soulless, deathly, uncaring world of care-givers and service providers" (because there is no distinction between single and two-parent families, which in turn means a state-controlled socioeconomic system). All this because they want to use tax dollars to pay for health care. The question the author fails to answer is what should the government spend these tax dollars on if not health care? The military? Higher salaries for government employees?

Any system can be abused. However, to imply that a government that financially supports its population is tantamount to a totalitarian state is ignorant and displays a lack of vision of a state that enables its people to succeed by providing for them in times when they cannot.

Follow-Up
A while back I wrote about an article about a six year old mentally challenged girl whose parents were using high doses of estrogen to halt her growth and development. Another story has surfaced, this time about a nine year old with the cognitive abilities of a three month old infant. The parents in this case have already had their daughter's uterus and breast buds removed (to prevent her from having children and to avoid sexualizing her to her caregivers) and are trying to maintain a "child-like" size to enable them to care for her as a child. They have even set up a blog to explain their choice.

The Brief Side
What do a boy from Texas, one from Pakistan, and one from Saudi Arabia all have in common? They all died imitating the execution of Saddam Hussein. Remember the daughter kisser boy from yesterday? His mother had to explain to his grandparents why she took him out of the room while the family watched the execution on CNN over Christmas. They didn't understand why. Maybe they need to read these articles.

I didn't know about this one: apparently children's sports and other physical activities are now eligible for a federal tax credit here in Canada. This is part of a new initiative to encourage kids to be more active, which we all know is a good thing. The rules are complicated (but really, what tax rules aren't?) so read them carefully.

A recent study has found that the more realistic a child's perspective is as far as how they are perceived by their peer group, the less likely they are to suffer from depression.

And finally, this article offers some ideas about how to raise a compassionate child.

TRS: Got Grey?

This weekend we went to visit my parents since we hadn't seen them since before Christmas. This post shall serve as both an account of that weekend (mostly Saturday) as well as proof of the fact that life in general, and the women in that life specifically, are trying to push me to grey-hairedness. It is rather long, but all parts are important to the story, so suck it up and read; or don't. I've already got your visit logged; my stats are padded.

As we were preparing to leave on Friday afternoon I was standing immobile in the two square meters of our front hall that I am allowed to remain in while wearing shoes while my wife fluttered about the house making last minute preparations (after telling me that it was time to go and that I should put my shoes on). I happened to glance in the mirror we keep there and noticed something in my beard. Upon closer inspection that "something" was a hair. I carefully pulled it and turned on the overhead light. Despite the fact that I have a significant portion of ash in my beard (yet ironically none on my head) this was not one of those... it was white. Not grey, definitely not ash; white.

Cue ominous music

The drive went well. "Went well" can be literally translated to no one was killed, no limbs were lost, and only minor hearing damage was incurred from the shrieking and screaming of a four hour car ride. We arrived in time for dinner, and had a leisurely evening with my parents and younger sister. The munchkin went down more easily than she ever has at my parents (where she sleeps in a playpen), probably thanks to MTM's brilliant realization that our room is very dark and darkness combined with unfamiliar surroundings makes for scared toddlers. She turned on the sidetable lamp and it worked like a charm. Props to Mommy on that one.

Saturday morning the munchkin awoke at 6am. She talked loudly for twenty minutes until my father came and took her out of our bed. Two hours later, MTM and I rolled out of bed. We were speechless. The munchkin ate cookies and milk and raisins, and spent the whole time with just my father. She had fun, and my father was beaming.

Later that morning, MTM went with my mother to get their hair cut (MTM discovered my mother's hairdresser recently and has since decided he is the one, so when we go visit my folks she occasionally books an appointment). The munchkin and I planned to go to Costco to look for some stuff we couldn't find locally, and then on to Best Buy for some wireless headphones for my mother.

As we were driving on the freeway, the munchkin said to me, "We went to the zoo. We saw monkeys."

"That's right sweetheart. And what were the monkeys doing?"

"Jumping. We saw gorillas too."

"Mmm hmm. And what were the gorillas doing?"

"Cuddling wiff Mommy." pause "Cuddling wiff gorilla mommy."

I was floored. We went to the zoo in November. And it's not just that she remembers something from over a month ago; when retelling the story she saw a possible confusion and clarified her statement herself without being prompted. I know adults who don't do this effectively! They grow up too fast. (Heh. Just wait until I tell you about this afternoon.)

We toured Costco and only came out with something that wasn't on our list: sauce from a local landmark (restaurant) that I love. Everything else was missing from that Costco, just like ours (you'd think they were, like, you know, a chain or something). We had to drive between the two stores. In the two minutes between stores, the munchkin fell sound asleep in her carseat. Perfect.

I sat in the lot for twenty minutes eating a snack and hoping she would wake up. No such luck. We would have to return to the plaza after lunch.

Upon learning of my plan to return to that area of town, MTM inquired whether or not a particular store was there. What store? Homesense, or as I like to call it, "Winners without any of the cool toys". Let the good times roll.

After humiliating myself for my mother, (Hi. I'd like some wireless headphones. No, none of those ones that charge themselves on the base unit. Yes, I know they're more convenient. No, I want ones that take 'AA' batteries that you replace when they die. Why? Because I already bought a pair that were bluetooth and awesome and recharged nicely, and my mother wanted them returned because the concept of recharging batteries was too complicated when compared to inserting two new ones!) we went to Homesense. Here, the munchkin played with an animatronic Santa in the clearance aisle while MTM looked for bed linens for the munchkin's "big girl bed".

What's that? Don't we think the munchkin is too young to be in a "big girl bed"? Of course we do, silly goose (OK, you know you're spending entirely too much time with your kid when you call an adult a "silly goose"). I didn't say the munchkin was moving into a "big girl bed". I said MTM was looking for linens for this purpose. Allow me a digression or two here, please.

I'd like to take you back in time. It was late September, 2004. MTM was due in March of 2005, making her about three months pregnant at this time. One fateful Friday night we were sitting having (what I thought was, at least) a nice dinner at our kitchen table. Before I knew it, MTM was sobbing uncontrollably because we were so unprepared for the baby's arrival. After wasting my time trying to console her, I suggested that we should go shopping for something she felt we needed immediately. That night, we went out looking for crib linens. We came home with a set from the local mall, and MTM took the quilt out and lay it on the spare bed that was still in the room that would become the nursery (it had been painted and finished with a chair rail that summer). She giggled and clapped and hopped up and down. It was perfect. Or so I thought...

The next morning, as we were just getting up and were still cozy under the covers, MTM turns to me and before she can even speak tears are welling up in her eyes. Through the tears and sobs and mucous I gather that she no longer believes the linens are perfect, and that she now feels a tremendous panic that she will never find what she wants. Desperate times call for desperate measures, dear reader. I suggested we return to a specialty store about 30 minutes away that had exactly the fabrics she wanted, and were willing to customize the bedding to her exact specifications. So, we spent an hour going through every sample they had... take the piping from this one, but use this gingham instead of the pattern; use this waffle here, but also over here, where you used the other waffle; et cetera. The guy needed a second page of paper to detail all the instructions. In the end we had the perfect bedding, for five times the cost of what we had purchased at the mall, but it was perfect. (When you're dealing with pregnancy hormones, no price is too high.)

OK, with that in mind, let's continue.

Right. MTM was looking for bed linens. Despite the fact that she had already chosen and gotten her mother to buy linens for Christmas, MTM searched the racks of quilts and shams and pillows while the munchkin and I covered Santa with miniature stockings (hey, don't ask me; what happens at Homesense stays at Homesense). In the end she found a green set that she liked (the munchkin's favourite colour is green; the linens we had at home were pink - again, don't look at me; I just bankroll the insanity). But she couldn't decide, and just left them there at the store.

We arrived home and shortly thereafter a friend of my sister's came over with her three year old son. The munchkin enjoys playing with him, and even sent him a picture in the mail (at her request). It's kind of cute. Anyhow, there they are, hanging out and fighting over the same toys (because, you know, no toy is better than the one the other kid is playing with at.this.moment) when the munchkin drops everything and spontaneously hugs him. He sits there confused until his mother tells him to hug her back, which he does. In between the pushing and shoving and constant chastisement from their parents to "share nicely", they exchange a few hugs and then... and then... they kissed. Aww... it was cute, it was sweet. But it didn't change the fact that a boy not related to her was kissing her. And not just any boy, but an older boy with long hair (his father has long hair; they're kind of hippies). I mean, my life is starting to read like an episode of Beverly Hills, 90210 and she's only 21 months!

They stayed for dinner, and afterward as they were getting ready to go the munchkin poured water down her front. Since we were giving her a bath in a few minutes anyways, we stripped her down to her diaper and let her run around excitedly (she loves playing "naked runaway baby"). We all said good-bye and her little friend left for home.

We would later get a text message from my sister that read, In the car on the way home, [little boy] said, "Mom, I like the munchkin. But I like her more with her clothes on."

The next morning, while the munchkin was speaking loudly (and admittedly we weren't trying to quiet her in hopes that she would awaken the babysitting service my father) MTM said something to me about revelations, dreams, quilt, pillow, something, something (I was half asleep).

After we were in the van ready to head home, MTM asked, "Are we still going to Homesense?"

"Homesense? Why Homesense?"

"To buy that green quilt."

"What green quilt?

"The one we saw yesterday. We talked about it this morning."

Crap. "Oh yeah, sure we can go back to Homesense."

So we drove, in the opposite direction to home to Homesense. And as we passed by it at 10:45am, we saw no cars and no lights. We got some gas and went back to check the hours. It opened at 11am, so we decided to wait. In the ten minutes or so we sat there, seven other cars arrived in the lot. It was crazy how many people were sitting out there waiting for this place to open. As soon as MTM left the van, the munchkin freaked out (she had been in more than a little bit of a mood this weekend). Desperate to keep my little girl happy, I offered a second Timbit... a chocolate Timbit. Mommy never lets her have two Timbits, and never any other than the old-fashioned plain. I was king Daddy.

So MTM eventually returned to the van with the new quilt, and we left for home. I'd like to tell you that we now know what the linens will be for the munchkin's new room, but sadly I cannot. We spent quite some time last night trying to decide, but it's "just so hard", you know?

And for those of you nosy people out there, no MTM is not pregnant. I swear to you, she is not.

TTS: Assuaging The Guilt, A Little

I have written many, many posts about the guilt I feel when I leave for work every morning, and how badly I feel about the limited amount of time I get to spend with my wife and daughter because of the hours spend at work. This is not exactly another one of those posts, but it is related.

Recently, I had a blogger respond to my comment via email. (She actually responds to all comments via email - how awesome is that? When I grow up I want to be a blogger like that.) She was talking about how her child got all confused when the child's father (and the blogger's husband) had to go back to work. In my comment I suggested popping into the father's office for a quick visit, or even lunch, if arrangements could be made. Her response left me feeling a little embarrassed and a little sad. She said that she would love to do this, but that the father had never extended an invitation. My first thought was, why does she need an invitation? but then it occurred to me that unannounced visits may not be appropriate for his office or work environment.

When the munchkin was very little, MTM brought her to my (regular) office in her infant carrier. She would sit on the floor while MTM and I chatted and had lunch at my desk. I would close the door and get a padded chair and let MTM nurse the munchkin before heading back out to do errands or visit her parents or whatever. We had privacy, and people used to poke in and say hi or coo at the baby. As the munchkin grew up, we exchanged the infant carrier for a feeding chair that we strapped to one of the guest chairs in my office, and closed the door more firmly to keep the noise down. My current project requires that I work at a client's office, where I am in a cubicle farm. So, MTM comes to the cafeteria and the three of us have lunch together there (the munchkin eats in her stroller).

This current project is also very close to home, like five minutes by car. So, occasionally I'll get a call from MTM saying she is around the corner, and asking if they can stop in for a quick visit. These are usually no more than ten minutes, enough time for a quick cuddle and a few slobbery kisses, but they make getting through the work day a lot easier. It's become almost a daily request from the munchkin to "go visit Daddy at office" (but of course they cannot do that) and now she even recognizes the building where my current office is from the street (and points it out to MTM as they drive by).

I realize I am fortunate to have the flexibility in my job to take the ten minutes here and there for these quick visits, but realistically for most people lunch is their own, or at least they have the legal right to make it their own (at least once in a while), and so to this end I don't really understand how someone can turn down a visit from their wife and kid. I've heard people talk about keeping home and work separate, and I am totally on board with that idea, to a point. Work should never invade home. However, home should feel free to invade work as much as possible, if for no other reason than to remind us what is really important and keep us focussed.

Someday (sooner than I want to admit to myself) this will no longer be an option since the munchkin will be in school full time. Sure the occasional lunch will be scheduled, but that won't be a surprise, and certainly won't be in the middle of the day. Until then, I am going to treasure and cherish these visits. And given how much enjoyment all three of us get from it, I cannot understand why someone would voluntarily avoid it.

TBS: Closing The Loop

A lot of the blogs I read are really well written, funny, entertaining, interesting, and thought-provoking. But one thing many of them are not is complete. Of course, no blog is really ever done, but I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about those posts where the blogger talks about something and leaves the reader without closure (usually because they're stuck in the middle of the problem). Since I like "closing the loop" (it's an engineering term), that's what today is all about.

My Job Situation

A little over a month ago, I wrote about my employment situation. Specifically, at the end of the post I mentioned a decision I had to make about whether or not to entertain an offer from a larger consulting firm that would come with more money but also more travel and thus less time with my girls. I initially turned down the headhunter's inquiry, politely telling him I wasn't interested. When pressed for details, I explained that I was exploring another opportunity (the government one). Over the course of the week, this headhunter was relentless. Eventually I agreed to a dinner, emphatically not an interview, to talk. In the dinner I learned that the headhunter had severely misrepresented the volume of travel (approximately one out of every three months) and as such this was not the job for me. That, along with clear implications that everyone eventually moved to Sacramento full time, which is something we're not interested in right now.

As for the government job, things move much more slowly. Budgets need to get approved, searches need to be made, et cetera. I won't know for a while, but I will try to keep you posted.

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An Old News Story

In one of my earliest news commentary entries, I wrote about an article that discussed a case involving a woman trying to become a third legal parent to a boy. She and her partner were raising the boy, and also allowed the father to remain involved in the child's life.

Well, according to this update, the woman won her case, and now a child can legally have more than one mother. I must admit, I am little (pleasantly) surprised by the decision, since it contradicts several Canadian laws (such as the Adoption Act, which the couple specifically avoided because it would cost the biological father his parental rights).

So that's it. Did you appreciate me closing the loop on these items for you? Was it a waste of your time to read it? Let me know in the comments, please.

TDS: Fweater For Mommy

I've been waiting to tell the story of taking the munchkin shopping, so here goes. I came home early from work one day in December and put her in the van and headed to the mall. As we drove, I told her we were buying a present for Mommy, and asked what she wanted to buy. Once we had clarified that we weren't buying Mommy a house or a piano, I offered some suggestions. I said we could buy Mommy a book, or a sweater, or a movie, or a necklace. She cut me off and said, "Buy Mommy fweater." I prompted for a colour, and she immediately said green (her favourite) but then said, "Buy Mommy purple fweater" (The munchkin has a favourite purple hoodie that we call a sweater). As we continued to the mall, I prompted her, and she held to the purple sweater.

We went through every.damn.store in that mall, looking at every.damn.purple.sweater! Every time, the same response: "No. Not dis one." Eventually we saw it, glistening in the window: a purple sweater. "Dat one. Munchkin wants dat one for Mommy." Unfortunately, they only had the display one, and it wasn't in MTM's size. I asked her if she wanted a green one like it (having previously checked size availability) and she said, "No. Boo (blue) one." Since blue had never been a consideration, I confirmed using the tried and true side by side, you pick method. She chose the blue sweater.

TNS: Families Mean Freedom?

Today, we have an interesting editorial piece that ends rather confusingly. The title of the article is "Without the Family, There Is No Freedom", and the majority of the editorial is spent citing statistics about divorce, unwed mothers, and abortions. However, midway through the column the author states "the data supports the premise that the decline in the family leads to a decline in our democracy" without offering any proof of this statement. The column eventually ends with what is effectively a restatement of the title. To be clear, when the author refers to the term "family", what he actually means is "two previously unwed heterosexual people, one woman and one man, who get married and have any children conceived in that marriage". Although never explicitly stated as such, this is the definition of family the author works from.

The only flaw or problem with non-traditional families pointed out by the author are that children of single mothers are more likely to live in poverty, and that children in stepfamilies or single parent homes are more likely to drop out of school. All other arguments are conjecture or statistics without discussion of what they prove, such as abortion data.

Admittedly, a child with two parents is better off than a child with one parent. The presence of a second caregiver and the opportunity that offers for more quality time and subsequently less time to "get into trouble". However, this is not the point of the article, as the author attacks remarried individuals.

The first issue I take with the discussion is the way the author ignores other factors. Are the children of single mothers more likely to live in poverty because the family unit lacks a father/husband, or is it related to socio-economics and the fact that mothers who are the primary caregivers can only find employment with low incomes since their schedules and availability prevent them from obtaining better (higher paying) jobs? What does a woman having an abortion, regardless of her marital situation, have to do with the family she participates in (or will participate in)?

Secondly, how can the foundation for democracy reside in the family unit? A family by any definition includes one or more parents and one or more children. By default (and necessity) the parents are in power. They are not democratically selected. Their leadership, while occasionally (or more often) questioned, is ultimately the driving force of the unit. Declaring that without a family democracy will cease to exist is akin to saying that without little league baseball the Olympics will fail: the smaller entity may contribute in some ways to the larger one, but it is by no means essential.

Finally, the conclusion the author comes to is that in the absence of family, the state assumes the role of defining values for the children. They further argue that when this occurs, the individual (and subsequently their freedom) is lost to "the authoritarian state". By extension, any subjugation to the authority of government is a relinquishment of freedom. And since marriage is a legal institution under the jurisdiction of government, it follows logically that being married is a form of relinquishing freedom. To summarize: being married will save your freedom; but being married also means you have sacrificed your freedom.

The Brief Side
This article is a must read for any readers who are pregnant, or who are trying to get pregnant. The screening guidelines for Down's Syndrome no longer excludes women under 35.

This story cites a study that found that having more children is hazardous to the parents' health. Wow, it looks like my father was right when he used to say, "You kids are killing me."

According to this study, children are getting stressed about the advertising they are seeing on television. The marketing of products to children not yet physically or emotionally prepared for them is cited as a major contributor.

And finally, a happier story about a boy who has received kidney transplants from both his parents.

TRS: Zoo Year's Eve

About a month ago, MTM emailed me a copy of a newsletter section from our zoo (of which we are members) offering tickets to a New Year's Eve celebration. It promised to be entertaining for little ones, and also allowed access to the indoor pavilions. It sounded like a lot of fun, but then again, that was a month ago.

Last night, we arrived to find literally throngs of people in two lines. What were these two lines, you ask? Well, they were for the people who had not picked up their tickets ahead of time. But wait, the reader asks. Two lines for all the people picking up tickets? No, dear reader, there were four lines, but two of them were for sections of the alphabet where there were no people (with last names beginning with that letter) picking up tickets. That's right: four ticket windows, two with lines and two empty. Disorganize much?

After entering the zoo more than forty minutes late, we wandered in and tried to watch Little Bear as he danced with Owl and Cat (creative names, no?) Unfortunately, the crowds were too thick and we could not get a decent view for the munchkin. So, we decided to wander to the pavilions in hopes of seeing animals in shiny conical hats getting wasted on fruit they had been secretly fermenting in their cages. On our way, there was an outdoor display of some monkeys (who were all huddled together in a corner) that we looked at. This would be the only live animals the munchkin would see all night. We got within 100 feet of one pavilion and realized that it was full. No, seriously, it was overflowing with a steady stream of people entering and exiting, sort of like a big sale at a mall just as it opens.

We decided to skip the pavilions and headed back to the main stage. Once we got there I went to the gift shop to get the munchkin a seizure inducing flashing heart necklace and a neon rave kid hoop. For four bucks you'd think the kid had received gold. She stared at them (for a period of time that admittedly made me uncomfortably recall some late university nights). We arrived to find them setting up for the Big Comfy Couch performers. Unless she was on one of our shoulders, the munchkin couldn't see anything, so up she went. Have you ever tried putting an overbundled toddler on your shoulders? Between her seven layers on her legs and your collar pulled up, she basically does the splits on your upper back while you try not to drop her as she attempts to dance.

After exchanging excuses to see our massage therapist, MTM and I put her on the ground and let her dance. Apparently the stage wasn't of interest, as she danced the night away. Then, it began to rain. As I made preparations to leave, I looked over my shoulder to see that they had pushed forward into the fray of swaying bodies. Foolish Daddy.

Then it began to rain sideways. And this time I saw them coming towards me, so I began to make preparations again. Then MTM said, "We want some hot chocolate."

After going and purchasing the hot chocolate (and a beaver tail - I wasn't going back twice) and having abandoned my warm mittens under my armpit (since they were designed for holding things like shovels and ski poles, not styrofoam cups) I was finding it difficult to feel my hands since they were soaked (remember the horizontal rain?) There we were, in the rain, intermittently shoving pieces of beaver tail into our daughter and trying to cool the boiling hot chocolate to a toddler friendly temperature. Eventually, it cooled enough and the munchkin got to enjoy her hot chocolate.

During all this, a magic group was on stage. We spent a lot of effort trying to make sure she didn't see any of it, since we had little interest in her attempting to put a knife through her mother (seriously, we saw a kid shove a knife through his mother) or lying someone on chairs and then removing them one by one (the levitation trick). (Aside: Is magic really good for kids? I mean, should we be showing them stuff like putting blades through people or that some can float? Isn't this like encouraging them to light things on fire?)

Finally, Little Bear returned and did some toddler-friendly singing (with lines like, don't put it in your mouth if you don't know it's safe to eat) and a nice story. All the while, the munchkin danced (even when there wasn't any music). I turned to MTM and said, "Next year, we're buying her some glow sticks and hooking up a radio in the garage. She can dance all night in the driveway." MTM replied, "That sounds like fun!" Crap.

We eventually left, and drove home with an exponentially increasingly frustrated toddler. By the time we got in the door she had abandoned all communication methods for whining. I guessed she was probably hot (MTM had wanted the heat on so high that I was having trouble remaining conscious) and began stripping her down on the couch. Off came the fleece lined snowsuit. Off came the sweater. Then the dual layer pants. Then the socks. Then the tights. Then the turtleneck. Then the onesie. I replaced the necklaces and let her free. She danced in the semi-darkness of our living room in a diaper with flashing necklaces (like her own mini-rave) and ate cheese until she collapsed (not really) exhausted, and was carried up to bed by MTM.

We closed out the night by ordering pizza (which they screwed up my pizza toppings - and then when they sent the "corrected" one, they sent the same damn pizza they did the first time) and watching Grey's Anatomy on DVD. We were in bed by 12:20am. Yay New Years.