Subscribe
This piece is fictional. It is not actual news, but rather a satirical look at current events.
QUEEN'S PARK -- Ontario Health Minister George Smitherman is under fire for the second time in one week. Not content to alienate the elderly (which apparently only covered 25% of eligible voters in the province), Smitherman has set his sights on a larger group: an entire gender.
"Every month I have to listen to these women complain about menstruation, and the inconvenience feminine hygiene products cause them," the Health Minister said yesterday. "I was thinking I would show them that it's not that bad by spending a day wearing a maxi pad."
Critics suggested that Smitherman was ignoring a large segment of women by limiting himself to a maxi pad. PC leader John Tory had this to say, "Mr. Minister, if you want to truly walk a mile in women's shoes (and really, that would be great... it would definitely help in future smear campaigns), then you should consider the other product: the tampon."
NDP leader Howard Hampton added, "And if you're not sure where to put it, I'm sure some of the female MPPs would be more than happy to make a suggestion."
Ontario Premier and leader of the Liberal Party, Dalton McGuinty, when asked about the Health Minister's behaviour, said, "I've got nothing. This guy is a f**king idiot. I don't know what I was thinking when I appointed him Health Minister."
When asked what his next move would be, Smitherman refused to comment. However, racial and religious groups everywhere are bracing for impact.
For those who don't quite get the joke, read this article.
And for anyone who would like to see me try and make my head explode, you can head over to my review blog and read my latest post there. (It's for a blog blast.)
TDS: Oh, The Places You've Slept
Last week, the munchkin decided she was done with sleeping on her crib mattress on the floor of her "big girl" room, and that she wanted me to take it away so she could sleep in her "big girl" bed. In an effort to encourage this development, I told her a story.
I'm Not Sleeping by Counting Crows
She loves this story. She loves it so much that she asks for it every night during dinner. The only problem is how she asks.
"Daddy, please tell me the story about when I was a baby and I frew up on the floor."
I'm Not Sleeping by Counting Crows
You have had a lot of beds. When you first came home from the hospital, you slept in a cradle in Mommy and Daddy's room. Then one night we heard a loud bonk and realized it was you banging your hands into the bars of the cradle while you slept.
(She had muscle spasms that caused her to jerk her arms wide open, smacking her hands quite forcefully into the wooden bars.)
So, we moved you into the bed with Mommy so she could feed you. And you slept like that for a few nights until Mommy got too nervous with you sleeping in her bed, and we moved you into your crib in the nursery. And you slept in there like that for a while.
Then, one day you started to crawl, and to pull yourself up on furniture, and Mommy and Daddy were worried that you could crawl out of your bed, so we lowered your mattress in your crib so you could be safe. You slept like that for a while.
Then, one day at nap time you didn't want to sleep, and you cried and cried, but Mommy made you stay in your room. And then Mommy heard a loud thump and then you cried because you had climbed out of your crib and fallen on the floor.
So, we took out your mattress and put it on the floor beside your crib, and you slept like that for a while.
Then, one night you didn't want to sleep, and you cried and cried, but Mommy and Daddy made you stay in your room. And then you cried some more, and made yourself sick and you vomited on the carpet in the nursery.
So, we cleaned up the floor, and moved you into your pink room. Ever since that night, you have slept there.
Then, last week, you decided you wanted to sleep in your big bed. So, Daddy took away your crib mattress, and now you sleep in a big girl bed, like a big girl.
She loves this story. She loves it so much that she asks for it every night during dinner. The only problem is how she asks.
"Daddy, please tell me the story about when I was a baby and I frew up on the floor."
TTS: Pets
For nearly a year now, the munchkin has expressed a strong desire for a cat. (I place the blame for this squarely on the shoulders of my wife, who took her to the pet store regularly as a distraction when shopping.) Unfortunately, neither my wife nor I are "cat people", so the chances of the family getting a cat anytime soon are slim.
Black Dog by Led Zeppelin
We have discussed getting a dog, but since our preferences tend towards the larger breeds (labs and the like), we have agreed to postpone the acquisition (adoption? purchase? what's the proper term?) until we have a larger home to support the animal.
The thing is, I'm not sure I want an actual dog, or my romanticized view of a loyal mammal that will sit with me as I watch tv or play my PSP, and will run around the yard with my daughter. The reality is that dogs have a down side too: they're messy, they smell, and every time we go somewhere we have to put them up in a kennel or the like.
Growing up, I never really had a pet, save for the koi my father found in a ditch near the auto plant where he worked (seriously) that lasted, oh, two weeks before jumping out of the tank and flapping to death under my bed while I slept (thankfully, soundly). I grew up afraid of dogs (childhood incident) as well as cats (they just creep me out), and don't want my daughter to be afraid like I was.
I know that a lot of people say that having a pet is a great experience for kids, and I have seen the munchkin play with other people's pets and have a blast. But, I don't know if it's the right thing for us. (Oh, and between my wife's aversion to reptiles and the fact that rodents give both of us the heebee jeebees, we're pretty much limited to larger mammals.)
If anyone out there has any ideas or advice, I would love to hear it.
Black Dog by Led Zeppelin
We have discussed getting a dog, but since our preferences tend towards the larger breeds (labs and the like), we have agreed to postpone the acquisition (adoption? purchase? what's the proper term?) until we have a larger home to support the animal.
The thing is, I'm not sure I want an actual dog, or my romanticized view of a loyal mammal that will sit with me as I watch tv or play my PSP, and will run around the yard with my daughter. The reality is that dogs have a down side too: they're messy, they smell, and every time we go somewhere we have to put them up in a kennel or the like.
Growing up, I never really had a pet, save for the koi my father found in a ditch near the auto plant where he worked (seriously) that lasted, oh, two weeks before jumping out of the tank and flapping to death under my bed while I slept (thankfully, soundly). I grew up afraid of dogs (childhood incident) as well as cats (they just creep me out), and don't want my daughter to be afraid like I was.
I know that a lot of people say that having a pet is a great experience for kids, and I have seen the munchkin play with other people's pets and have a blast. But, I don't know if it's the right thing for us. (Oh, and between my wife's aversion to reptiles and the fact that rodents give both of us the heebee jeebees, we're pretty much limited to larger mammals.)
If anyone out there has any ideas or advice, I would love to hear it.
SFD: Answers
Thanks to everyone who asked questions in the comments to Friday's post. I appreciate you taking the time to ask them.
Today's song provides a little Can-con to this blog, and I know it will be appreciated by at least some readers.
Truth Untold by Odds
MTM asked:
mamatulip asked:
Miss Perfect asked:
AndreAnna asked:
Heather asked:
Haley-O asked:
Holly asked:
peleawakens asked:
Redneck Mommy asked:
Ali asked:
stupid person would do: I got shitfaced drunk. I was so bad that I started to refer to the hostess as "the hooker", and my best man had to keep me away from my FIL. (Ironically, my father was more concerned that I'd smoke again than the copious volume of alcohol I consumed - estimated at 40oz.) MTM picked up me and my out of town friend who was sleeping at our place (she was my DD that night). I puked in a Rubbermaid bin the whole ride home, and into the early morning hours as I sat, head between my knees, in the kitchen. I was so hung over, I slept until the middle of the afternoon, leaving MTM to entertain my friend.
Today's song provides a little Can-con to this blog, and I know it will be appreciated by at least some readers.
Truth Untold by Odds
MTM asked:
What's your favourite part about being a Dad?Probably the blank slate that comes with kids. The munchkin has no preconceived notions, no baggage that would prevent her from trying something, no prejudices. She likes something because she likes it, not because she has learned to like it. She explores the world with wide eyes and an open mind, and I find that fascinating.
mamatulip asked:
What is one of your biggest regrets?This is an interesting question because any regret that is "big" would imply a massive shift in my current life, which I love. So my biggest regret is probably that I didn't pursue music and ended up as an engineer. However, if I had become a musician, I would likely not have met my wife, and therefore there would be no munchkin, which would suck donkey balls. So I guess in a way I don't have any regrets.
Miss Perfect asked:
If you could take your wife and daughter on vacation for a week where would you take them and why would you choose it? Would you do something kid friendly like DisneyWorld or something more adventurous like a Safari in Africa? And, you can pick any time of year/weather/etc.Without question, Italy. I'd love to take them to the town where my father's family lives, as well as further south to places like Rome (history), Florence (art), and Naples.
AndreAnna asked:
Where would you move if you could live anywhere?Great question. I loved living in Montreal, but I don't think I could handle the winters as a driver (I lived downtown and rode transit everywhere). I really liked New Orleans, but I don't know what the situation is down there since Katrina. I'd probably say North Carolina; it has little to no snow and the people there were really nice when I worked there.
Heather asked:
Okay, here it is. Remember when you and MTM first met and you had something to tell her about your past and she almost didn't go out with you again? What was the something about your past? You wrote that in a post once and I have always wondered about it because I'm nosy that way.Wow. I am impressed by your memory. (Apparently there are ups and downs to having long-time readers.) OK... just remember, like I said in the story, it was a long time ago and I don't hang with those people anymore. When I was in university there was a brief period of time where I both used and dealt pot. MTM was a squeaky clean girl, and I sensed this sort of revelation at a later date could be a deal breaker, so I got it out in the open right away. (For what it's worth, at the time we met I had not used in years, and still have not used since then.)
Haley-O asked:
Are you watching Big Brother? If not, why not? ;)I'm sort of half-watching BB9, mainly because I can't commit to three nights a week. As for a pet, she's already asking for a kitty, but neither of us are cat people, so we're not getting one. We've talked about getting a dog when we have a larger house. (This is actually a subject I was planning to write about in more detail, so I'll leave the rest for the future.)
Also, when the munchkin starts asking you for a dog or cat, will you get her one? Every family NEEDS a kitty. ;) Or a dog.
Holly asked:
Which would you rather do and why?D: none of the above. I would never skydive or do motorcycle stunts, and I am in nowhere near the physical shape to run a marathon. But if I had to choose, I'd say the Boston marathon, only after a few blocks I'd duck into the crowd and then catch a game at Fenway.
* skydive (not tandem)
* an evil knievel motorcycle stunt
* boston marathon
peleawakens asked:
Do you dread winter time about a month before it gets cold?I don't dread winter so much as snow. I would live continuously in bitter cold from November through March if it meant no snow. Snow is evil. As for my guilty pleasure? Other than the aforementioned canned meat, I'd have to say cheesy movies like The New Guy or Legally Blonde.
My other question is - what is your guilty pleasure?
Redneck Mommy asked:
If you had a secret super power which one would it be?The superpower is something I have thought of before (duh... SciFi Dad), so it's easy: bending time and space. Not only would I be able to spend more time with my family, but I would be independently wealthy because I could gamble on sporting events (ala Biff from Back To The Future). And as for the second question... hell yeah, I'll come out if you're in town.
And ...
Are you going to come out and play with me when I fly across the country in April?
Ali asked:
most embarrassing story that you are willing to share.I asked my wife, and we both agreed it would be the story of my stag. You see, I hate attention, so I really hated having a stag. So, I did what any
TRS: That's My Daughter
This is the other "movie music" (as it is referred to by the munchkin) song that is currently in extra-heavy rotation in the minivan's CD player. For those of you who recognize it but cannot place exactly from where, it's from the end credits for the film Knocked Up. (There. Now I've mentioned something about movies in my "day after the Oscars that I didn't watch" post.)
Daughter by Loudon Wainwright III
On Friday night, neither of us felt like cooking, so we did what any reasonable family would do: we ordered pizza. Of course, the munchkin wouldn't tell you she had pizza (but really, she did... honest). She would tell you she had icing, and that it was really, really good:
(In truth, we did allow her to dip her fingers in the icing for the cinnamon sticks. But she put both her hands in her mouth at the same time completely unprompted. Well, the first time. Then I made her do it again so I could take a picture because really, what is that moment worth without visual evidence?)
Saturday morning we had our last (for now) music class. It was surreal, because I don't think my kid could identify anyone in that class, but apparently everyone else knows who she is (based on the number of parents who told their kids to say hi to her, by name, when we arrived plus the number of times one of them told me their kid asked about the munchkin at home this week). Question: if you took your kid to a 30 minute session that happened once every two weeks, would you expect them to know the other kids?
Saturday afternoon we packed up and made the long trek to visit my best man and his family. They live close to an hour from us, so it's practically an all-day event when we get together with them. It was a good time; they have two girls who flank the munchkin by a year in either direction, so the three of them ran around and danced and wore princess gear and screamed shrilly about Dora while the adults hung out and chatted (the women) or played with the new entertainment system (men).
On Sunday, we took the munchkin skating (click to enlarge):
(No, the woman in the photo is not MTM. She and the other kid in the photo are strangers (and not really in focus either, so why are you asking about them?) that happen to be in the images.)
And finished the afternoon off with hot chocolate:
It doesn't sound like much when I write it all out, but honestly, I'm wiped.
A reminder to those who missed it on Friday: this is your last chance to add a question to the comments. I'll be answering them tomorrow.
Daughter by Loudon Wainwright III
On Friday night, neither of us felt like cooking, so we did what any reasonable family would do: we ordered pizza. Of course, the munchkin wouldn't tell you she had pizza (but really, she did... honest). She would tell you she had icing, and that it was really, really good:
(In truth, we did allow her to dip her fingers in the icing for the cinnamon sticks. But she put both her hands in her mouth at the same time completely unprompted. Well, the first time. Then I made her do it again so I could take a picture because really, what is that moment worth without visual evidence?)
Saturday morning we had our last (for now) music class. It was surreal, because I don't think my kid could identify anyone in that class, but apparently everyone else knows who she is (based on the number of parents who told their kids to say hi to her, by name, when we arrived plus the number of times one of them told me their kid asked about the munchkin at home this week). Question: if you took your kid to a 30 minute session that happened once every two weeks, would you expect them to know the other kids?
Saturday afternoon we packed up and made the long trek to visit my best man and his family. They live close to an hour from us, so it's practically an all-day event when we get together with them. It was a good time; they have two girls who flank the munchkin by a year in either direction, so the three of them ran around and danced and wore princess gear and screamed shrilly about Dora while the adults hung out and chatted (the women) or played with the new entertainment system (men).
On Sunday, we took the munchkin skating (click to enlarge):
(No, the woman in the photo is not MTM. She and the other kid in the photo are strangers (and not really in focus either, so why are you asking about them?) that happen to be in the images.)
And finished the afternoon off with hot chocolate:
It doesn't sound like much when I write it all out, but honestly, I'm wiped.
A reminder to those who missed it on Friday: this is your last chance to add a question to the comments. I'll be answering them tomorrow.
SFD: Ask Away
I've seen a number of other bloggers do something similar in the past, and while I haven't personally participated, many readers seemed to enjoy it. So, since I've already written a post today over at my review blog (details to follow at the end of this post), I'll make this one short and sweet.
Question! by System Of A Down
(Aside: I really recommend you listen to today's song. It's not exactly what you would expect from System Of A Down.)
In lieu of a post today, I have an offer: I will answer any and all questions asked in the comments of this post, within reason. The "within reason" caveat is necessary since I will not answer details about where I live, what my real name is, or other pieces of information that could be used to identify me or my family. Other than that, pretty much everything is fair game. I will post my answers sometime next week.
In the meantime, I have a new post up over at Reviews From The Dad Side. It's a Parent Bloggers Network blog blast about science for preschoolers. I would appreciate it if you clicked over and read it, and perhaps offered some of your thoughts on the subject.
For those who care to mark such things, tomorrow will mark the one year anniversary of this blog. (Technically, I posted on it while it was an author-only blog for a few days, but February 23 was the "go live" date.) It's been a great ride so far. Thanks to everyone who has taken the time to read and comment. I really appreciate it.
Question! by System Of A Down
(Aside: I really recommend you listen to today's song. It's not exactly what you would expect from System Of A Down.)
In lieu of a post today, I have an offer: I will answer any and all questions asked in the comments of this post, within reason. The "within reason" caveat is necessary since I will not answer details about where I live, what my real name is, or other pieces of information that could be used to identify me or my family. Other than that, pretty much everything is fair game. I will post my answers sometime next week.
In the meantime, I have a new post up over at Reviews From The Dad Side. It's a Parent Bloggers Network blog blast about science for preschoolers. I would appreciate it if you clicked over and read it, and perhaps offered some of your thoughts on the subject.
For those who care to mark such things, tomorrow will mark the one year anniversary of this blog. (Technically, I posted on it while it was an author-only blog for a few days, but February 23 was the "go live" date.) It's been a great ride so far. Thanks to everyone who has taken the time to read and comment. I really appreciate it.
TWS: Gone Forever
Today I am going to write about some of the things I miss from my life as a single guy, my life pre-MTM and pre-munchkin. (Before I begin, I want to clearly state that this is nothing more than an attempt at humour. While admittedly I do miss the things I am about to discuss, by no means am I implying that I regret my decision to marry and have a child. Just because I willingly made decisions doesn't mean I can't miss some of the things that change in the process.)
Gone Forever by Three Days Grace
The Colour Green
When I set out on my own after five years in a co-op university program, I vowed that everything would match. I went with forest green. I had forest green napkins (now used as rags), forest green tea towels (now used as rags), forest green sheets (now used to cover unused furniture - that she would otherwise dust with rags). Then, I learned that everything had to be blue. You see, my wife loves the colour blue, so everything in our home has to be blue, or failing that, accented with blue.
Klik
This meat, not to be confused with Spam (which is disgusting; seriously, how do you Americans eat it?), used to be a constant resident in my cupboard. At least once a month I would partake in its salty, greasy goodness. Now? It is not even allowed in the house unless she's out of town and I can dispose of the evidence before she gets home. In unrelated news, my arteries seem less firm since that period of time.
My Apartment
Before I met MTM and moved to theboonies suburbs, I lived in a lakeside community that was its own village with its own little main street. There were amazing restaurants (a seafood place on the lake where you could literally eat on a dock, a Dutch Indonesian place the likes of which I have never replicated) and quaint shops. I lived on the top floor (20th) of a high rise, overlooking a river that fed into the lake. The building was a five minute walk from the lakeshore, where we had many a picnic and an even greater number of walks.
My Car
I leased. She bought. That meant when my lease was up she couldforce convince me to get rid of my black Monte Carlo SS with graphite leather interior and heated seats in favour of a more carseat-friendly vehicle (the minivan she now drives - in exchange, I got the POS she bought).
Gone Forever by Three Days Grace
The Colour Green
When I set out on my own after five years in a co-op university program, I vowed that everything would match. I went with forest green. I had forest green napkins (now used as rags), forest green tea towels (now used as rags), forest green sheets (now used to cover unused furniture - that she would otherwise dust with rags). Then, I learned that everything had to be blue. You see, my wife loves the colour blue, so everything in our home has to be blue, or failing that, accented with blue.
Klik
This meat, not to be confused with Spam (which is disgusting; seriously, how do you Americans eat it?), used to be a constant resident in my cupboard. At least once a month I would partake in its salty, greasy goodness. Now? It is not even allowed in the house My Apartment
Before I met MTM and moved to the
My Car
I leased. She bought. That meant when my lease was up she could
TTS: Using Your Words
Today's post is (again) inspired by a question posed by another blogger. While I strongly recommend you read the entire thing, it has been my experience that few readers actually read the reference links. So, in the interest of both completeness and brevity, I will summarize here. Four scenarios are presented (your kid is the only one not invited to a party, a dad is excluded from a playgroup, the maid isn't doing as good a job, a service provider begins shirking their duties) where you are presented with the opportunity to "use your words". How would you handle them, or other situations of a similar nature?
Shout 2000 by Disturbed
To those who are new visitors to this blog, possibly via the link list at the source, I must offer the following introduction. Regular readers will likely nod their heads and are welcome to skip ahead to the next paragraph since it will be nothing they have not read (or surmised) before. I am a very straightforward person. I say what I think and mean what I say (wait, aren't those two statements repetitive?) and I have been known to be sarcastic and self-deprecating from time to time (not that those last two facts are completely relevant). How I write (speak?) on this blog is how I am in real life situations. I am fiercely liberal, bordering on socialist. And I firmly believe that everyone has rights. Especially me, and those I care about.
All four of those scenarios are woven from the same thread. In modern society, being polite is synonymous with being quiet. Rude people are loud and speak out. Nice people keep their mouths shut. Mean people disagree with you.
In the eyes of modern society, I am a loud, rude, mean person. But I disagree with that assessment (well, most of it - I am loud).
I believe that silent acceptance is tacit approval. If you disagree and say nothing, you are as bad as the person who said what you disagree with. (In truth, you are probably worse; since you disagree you are intelligent enough to know better, and by your inaction you are allowing someone less intelligent to propagate a faulty statement.) So, were I in one of those situations, in a vacuum, I would say something.
Why the in a vacuum caveat? Because I no longer live life as an individual, but rather as half of a partnership with my wife. So, if the resulting situation would affect her (such as the non-invite would if it were a circle of friends), I tend to avoid direct confrontation and employ a more passive-aggressive approach (such as not calling the non-inviters anymore).
But in all the other situations, I would say something. In many occasions, I have unintentionally offended someone (easiest example: my in-laws) by disagreeing and pointing out the nature of their opinions. And I am often seen as the "shit disturber" who can't leave well enough alone. But I don't care, because ultimately those who are intelligent enough to look not just at actions, but at motives, understand why I am the way I am.
I believe that to effect change, we need to be the one changing. When we disagree with something and feel that changing it would improve circumstances overall, we have a responsibility to ourselves, our community, our world to make that change. Playing a victim and feeling angry or put upon serves no positive purpose.
My daughter is not quite three years old, and I have already started to (very subtly) encourage this in her. For example, this past weekend, we were on a long drive when I heard her repeating herself to my wife, "Daddy turned off my music." (I had, in fact, turned off the CD for a few moments to listen for a "car noise" that would eventually be identified as a figment of my wife's imagination, but the CD had been resumed for over ten minutes.) We tried to understand why she clung so tenaciously to this fact, and eventually figured out that what she meant was that the mix CD had progressed past the first two songs (which she favoured immensely over the remainder of tracks), and she wanted the first two tracks again. We had the following exchange:
SFD: Munchkin, why do you keep saying, "Daddy turned off my music"?
Munchkin: Because you turned it off.
SFD: But it's on now.
Munchkin: But not my favourite songs. I want my favourite songs.
SFD: But how does Daddy know what you want if you don't tell me?
Munchkin: silence
SFD: Munchkin, do you think if you asked Daddy to play your favourite song instead of complaining, that I would play it?
Munchkin: Mmm hmm.
SFD: OK then.
Munchkin: Daddy?
SFD: Yes sweetheart?
Munchkin: Can I please listen to my favourite song?
SFD: Of course.
Munchkin: Thank you Daddy. I asked you for what I wanted.
SFD: That's great sweetheart.
It was an admittedly small step, but I like to think it planted a seed in her head; that when she wants something to change, she needs to communicate that instead of feeling sorry for herself.
This post was composed as part of this week's Hump Day Hmm, hosted by Julie Pippert at Using My Words. You can visit her blog to see more perspectives on this subject.
Shout 2000 by Disturbed
To those who are new visitors to this blog, possibly via the link list at the source, I must offer the following introduction. Regular readers will likely nod their heads and are welcome to skip ahead to the next paragraph since it will be nothing they have not read (or surmised) before. I am a very straightforward person. I say what I think and mean what I say (wait, aren't those two statements repetitive?) and I have been known to be sarcastic and self-deprecating from time to time (not that those last two facts are completely relevant). How I write (speak?) on this blog is how I am in real life situations. I am fiercely liberal, bordering on socialist. And I firmly believe that everyone has rights. Especially me, and those I care about.
All four of those scenarios are woven from the same thread. In modern society, being polite is synonymous with being quiet. Rude people are loud and speak out. Nice people keep their mouths shut. Mean people disagree with you.
In the eyes of modern society, I am a loud, rude, mean person. But I disagree with that assessment (well, most of it - I am loud).
I believe that silent acceptance is tacit approval. If you disagree and say nothing, you are as bad as the person who said what you disagree with. (In truth, you are probably worse; since you disagree you are intelligent enough to know better, and by your inaction you are allowing someone less intelligent to propagate a faulty statement.) So, were I in one of those situations, in a vacuum, I would say something.
Why the in a vacuum caveat? Because I no longer live life as an individual, but rather as half of a partnership with my wife. So, if the resulting situation would affect her (such as the non-invite would if it were a circle of friends), I tend to avoid direct confrontation and employ a more passive-aggressive approach (such as not calling the non-inviters anymore).
But in all the other situations, I would say something. In many occasions, I have unintentionally offended someone (easiest example: my in-laws) by disagreeing and pointing out the nature of their opinions. And I am often seen as the "shit disturber" who can't leave well enough alone. But I don't care, because ultimately those who are intelligent enough to look not just at actions, but at motives, understand why I am the way I am.
I believe that to effect change, we need to be the one changing. When we disagree with something and feel that changing it would improve circumstances overall, we have a responsibility to ourselves, our community, our world to make that change. Playing a victim and feeling angry or put upon serves no positive purpose.
My daughter is not quite three years old, and I have already started to (very subtly) encourage this in her. For example, this past weekend, we were on a long drive when I heard her repeating herself to my wife, "Daddy turned off my music." (I had, in fact, turned off the CD for a few moments to listen for a "car noise" that would eventually be identified as a figment of my wife's imagination, but the CD had been resumed for over ten minutes.) We tried to understand why she clung so tenaciously to this fact, and eventually figured out that what she meant was that the mix CD had progressed past the first two songs (which she favoured immensely over the remainder of tracks), and she wanted the first two tracks again. We had the following exchange:
SFD: Munchkin, why do you keep saying, "Daddy turned off my music"?
Munchkin: Because you turned it off.
SFD: But it's on now.
Munchkin: But not my favourite songs. I want my favourite songs.
SFD: But how does Daddy know what you want if you don't tell me?
Munchkin: silence
SFD: Munchkin, do you think if you asked Daddy to play your favourite song instead of complaining, that I would play it?
Munchkin: Mmm hmm.
SFD: OK then.
Munchkin: Daddy?
SFD: Yes sweetheart?
Munchkin: Can I please listen to my favourite song?
SFD: Of course.
Munchkin: Thank you Daddy. I asked you for what I wanted.
SFD: That's great sweetheart.
It was an admittedly small step, but I like to think it planted a seed in her head; that when she wants something to change, she needs to communicate that instead of feeling sorry for herself.
This post was composed as part of this week's Hump Day Hmm, hosted by Julie Pippert at Using My Words. You can visit her blog to see more perspectives on this subject.
TRS: Family Day Weekend
Sorry for the lack of a post yesterday. It was, after all, Family Day, so technically I was supposed to be spending it with my family and not the internets. (Apparently unlike some people.)
Today's song comes via a roundabout anecdote. It is currently the munchkin's favourite song, after I used it in a photo slideshow for the month of January (which I just completed this weekend). The reason it was even used is because I liked it so much when I heard it in the movie Stranger Than Fiction (great film, btw).
Whole Wide World by Wreckless Eric
Friday night saw us having chocolate fondue for dessert because the original plan (to have it for dessert on Valentine's Day) didn't work out (read: MTM made two desserts for one meal):
Saturday morning we piled into the car and hit the local mall, where Toys R Us was having a celebration for something or other. There was afrighteningly large penguin:
Not to mention Cookie Monster:
But by far the most fascinating thing (other than the McQuarrie Vader I found) was the science "experiment" they did with the kids. It allowed them to make "slime":
She still hasn't gotten bored with the stuff.
Saturday night we went out for fajitas at our favourite place. It was incredible. The munchkin needed no bib, no highchair, and no extra entertainment other than conversation with her parents. We all shared the steak fajita platter, and had a blast; capped off with a piece of cheesecake (which, despite claims to the contrary, was not distributed equally, since the shortest of the three of us consumed far more than her parents).
Sunday morning, in an effort to get some quiet time for my wife (i.e. where the munchkin wasn't running around and screaming), I taught her how to do this:
What is that, you ask? Why, it's what anyresponsible normal stupid parent would teach their child: online browsing of the Toys R Us store site. Thanks to me, she now tells everyone she "sopped at Toys R Us on the interway". (Interestingly, in five minutes she developed superior mastery of the Windows interface to my MIL. She can navigate back, close popups, and use the backspace key when typing in search terms. She's not yet three and I already have to hide my credit cards.)
Sunday afternoon, we went into the city for dinner with my wife's family:
It was quite a bit more, uh, nice, than I am used to. Unfortunately, my wife's aunt dumped beets in the middle of my plate, and since beets make me, uh, puke, we ordered pizza after we got home. (Aside: when you serve dinner to guests, do you dump everything you prepared on their plates, or do you ask what people would like, or rather not have? We're of the latter ilk: "Do you like beets? No? Well then I won't soil your plate with them.")
But, there was a dog who went from terrorizing the munchkin during dinner to being chased around the livingroom afterwards:
Monday was spent lounging around the house. We did take a drive to see "what was open" (nothing), wherein the munchkin slept for 20 minutes, which then completely spoiled her afternoon nap (none) and left her suprisingly non-cranky for the remainder of the day.
What did you do?
I also posted a new Daditorial, looking at being able to afford stay at home parents.
Today's song comes via a roundabout anecdote. It is currently the munchkin's favourite song, after I used it in a photo slideshow for the month of January (which I just completed this weekend). The reason it was even used is because I liked it so much when I heard it in the movie Stranger Than Fiction (great film, btw).
Whole Wide World by Wreckless Eric
Friday night saw us having chocolate fondue for dessert because the original plan (to have it for dessert on Valentine's Day) didn't work out (read: MTM made two desserts for one meal):
Saturday morning we piled into the car and hit the local mall, where Toys R Us was having a celebration for something or other. There was a
Not to mention Cookie Monster:
But by far the most fascinating thing (other than the McQuarrie Vader I found) was the science "experiment" they did with the kids. It allowed them to make "slime":
She still hasn't gotten bored with the stuff.
Saturday night we went out for fajitas at our favourite place. It was incredible. The munchkin needed no bib, no highchair, and no extra entertainment other than conversation with her parents. We all shared the steak fajita platter, and had a blast; capped off with a piece of cheesecake (which, despite claims to the contrary, was not distributed equally, since the shortest of the three of us consumed far more than her parents).
Sunday morning, in an effort to get some quiet time for my wife (i.e. where the munchkin wasn't running around and screaming), I taught her how to do this:
What is that, you ask? Why, it's what any
Sunday afternoon, we went into the city for dinner with my wife's family:
It was quite a bit more, uh, nice, than I am used to. Unfortunately, my wife's aunt dumped beets in the middle of my plate, and since beets make me, uh, puke, we ordered pizza after we got home. (Aside: when you serve dinner to guests, do you dump everything you prepared on their plates, or do you ask what people would like, or rather not have? We're of the latter ilk: "Do you like beets? No? Well then I won't soil your plate with them.")
But, there was a dog who went from terrorizing the munchkin during dinner to being chased around the livingroom afterwards:
Monday was spent lounging around the house. We did take a drive to see "what was open" (nothing), wherein the munchkin slept for 20 minutes, which then completely spoiled her afternoon nap (none) and left her suprisingly non-cranky for the remainder of the day.
What did you do?
I also posted a new Daditorial, looking at being able to afford stay at home parents.
TBS/THS: Keyword Madness V
Today's musical selection is currently my favourite song. I encourage anyone out there who is unfamiliar with either the name (he's the lead singer of System of a Down) or the song itself to give it a listen. (Please give the whole song a chance. My wife crinkled her nose at the opening minute or so, but then discovered that she really liked the song. So, just because the opening stanza sounds far too "hard", don't be turned off.) Underneath the aggressiveness often associated with metal is a very musical and lyrical song, with strong Armenian (think middle eastern/mediteranean) influences.
Empty Walls by Serj Tankian
Those long-time readers of the site were likely excited when they saw today's title. Every couple months I go through the Google Analytics archives and see what things people typed in to get to my site. This time (like the last couple), she who shall not be named lest her name garner more hits, the wife of a sitcom star who wrote a cookbook, was my biggest draw (for those who are curious about such things).
As always, these are unedited actual search terms.
daddy cuddle too old
Daddy is never too old for cuddles (aww… OK seriously that's the only cheesy reply; I swear)
stupid things parents do
How about we start with having kids and work from there?
i don't wear panties
Thanks for sharing.
working on a poo
You too.
christmas tree bulbs out and are blackened
I hear a nice creole sauce works well with blackened catfish. Maybe you should give that a try?
adoption shower cake take out box
So wait… Is there a box inside the cake? Or did the cake come in a take out box, like from a restaurant?
should a mothe consent to birth control bils for 16 year old daughter or try to stop them from dating
We'll skip the spell check, because if you think you can stop a 16 year old girl from dating, grammar and spelling are the least of your worries.
when dads screw up
All.the.time.
alternating genetic material in babies
If genetic material is alternating, it would be hard to identify that baby, I think.
bob skates, how to put on
Hmm… let's see… Step 1: put skate on boot; Step 2: tighten straps.
bride dress in mud princess dress
So not just any bride ruining her day by falling in the mud will do; it has to be a princess bride dress? You sick bastard.
mommy in footie pajamas
Nope. Just two pairs of socks, flannel pajamas, and a hoodie.
cave + undress + inlaw
I don't even want to know.
crack cocaine bowel diaper
That either.
mother inlaw tongue pasta
Yum!
my husband wears a nightie
my wife pissed herself in the mall
Uh, maybe you two should be seeing a couple's therapist instead of just using google.
right to cavity search uk customs
Something tells me even if you have the right, you shouldn't do that to a customs officer.
scrapbooking and mr clean magic eraser
I know the marketing literature says it can undo any mistake, but I think this may be pushing it.
i like to eat out/in with a good dvd or video with that special lady,i like the cuddles, the hugs, the kisses, the caresses
Yep. These are my readers.
Empty Walls by Serj Tankian
Those long-time readers of the site were likely excited when they saw today's title. Every couple months I go through the Google Analytics archives and see what things people typed in to get to my site. This time (like the last couple), she who shall not be named lest her name garner more hits, the wife of a sitcom star who wrote a cookbook, was my biggest draw (for those who are curious about such things).
As always, these are unedited actual search terms.
daddy cuddle too old
Daddy is never too old for cuddles (aww… OK seriously that's the only cheesy reply; I swear)
stupid things parents do
How about we start with having kids and work from there?
i don't wear panties
Thanks for sharing.
working on a poo
You too.
christmas tree bulbs out and are blackened
I hear a nice creole sauce works well with blackened catfish. Maybe you should give that a try?
adoption shower cake take out box
So wait… Is there a box inside the cake? Or did the cake come in a take out box, like from a restaurant?
should a mothe consent to birth control bils for 16 year old daughter or try to stop them from dating
We'll skip the spell check, because if you think you can stop a 16 year old girl from dating, grammar and spelling are the least of your worries.
when dads screw up
All.the.time.
alternating genetic material in babies
If genetic material is alternating, it would be hard to identify that baby, I think.
bob skates, how to put on
Hmm… let's see… Step 1: put skate on boot; Step 2: tighten straps.
bride dress in mud princess dress
So not just any bride ruining her day by falling in the mud will do; it has to be a princess bride dress? You sick bastard.
mommy in footie pajamas
Nope. Just two pairs of socks, flannel pajamas, and a hoodie.
cave + undress + inlaw
I don't even want to know.
crack cocaine bowel diaper
That either.
mother inlaw tongue pasta
Yum!
my husband wears a nightie
my wife pissed herself in the mall
Uh, maybe you two should be seeing a couple's therapist instead of just using google.
right to cavity search uk customs
Something tells me even if you have the right, you shouldn't do that to a customs officer.
scrapbooking and mr clean magic eraser
I know the marketing literature says it can undo any mistake, but I think this may be pushing it.
i like to eat out/in with a good dvd or video with that special lady,i like the cuddles, the hugs, the kisses, the caresses
Yep. These are my readers.
THS: The Valentine's Day Post
Today is Valentine's Day. (Wow. Did you hear that? That was the sound of every male reader of this blog running out to their local card shop to pick up an overpriced piece of cardstock with doilies and ribbons and hearts that they can "personalize" with a signature. Oh, I'm just kidding. All the male readers of this blog are sensitive, new age guys who got their Valentine's stuff taken care of weeks days hours ago.)
Make You Mine by Heather Nova
I thought coming into this that I had to post something about my wife, but what? Regale you with a tale of a previous Valentine's Day? I already did that, so I don't want to do it again.
Then I thought maybe I could write something really sweet and/or mushy, but I did that last week, so I don't want bore the internets.
Then I decided that just because other people make Valentine's Day into some sacred event doesn't mean I have to. This may sound a bit cheesy, but I don't wait for today, or my anniversary, or a birthday to treat my wife nicely; nor does she. If we were to define what Valentine's Day means to some (most?) couples, it would apply to most days around our house. Without exaggeration, every day is Valentine's Day at our place.
But that sounds kinda goofy, so instead I made some valentines for more obscure circumstances (click to enlarge):
However, they all pale in comparison to the card I got this morning (again, you may click to enlarge):
(Now I have ears!)
Make You Mine by Heather Nova
I thought coming into this that I had to post something about my wife, but what? Regale you with a tale of a previous Valentine's Day? I already did that, so I don't want to do it again.
Then I thought maybe I could write something really sweet and/or mushy, but I did that last week, so I don't want bore the internets.
Then I decided that just because other people make Valentine's Day into some sacred event doesn't mean I have to. This may sound a bit cheesy, but I don't wait for today, or my anniversary, or a birthday to treat my wife nicely; nor does she. If we were to define what Valentine's Day means to some (most?) couples, it would apply to most days around our house. Without exaggeration, every day is Valentine's Day at our place.
But that sounds kinda goofy, so instead I made some valentines for more obscure circumstances (click to enlarge):
However, they all pale in comparison to the card I got this morning (again, you may click to enlarge):
(Now I have ears!)
TTS/TBS: Blogging About People
Are people we know fair fodder for writing? People in our real lives? People we know or read online? Other bloggers? Things we read, such as blog posts, emails, news stories, etc? Are other people and the things they do fair fodder for our blogs (or other writing)? How do you handle writing about people? People you know in real life? people you know online? What are your criteria for discussing the people who affect you? Have you ever dealt with someone finding themselves in your writing and reacting (in any way)? Share with us your ethics and mores as a writer, when it comes to characterizing others.
People Are People by A Perfect Circle
Since this is primarily a "daddy blog", it is unavoidable to write about certain people such as my wife and daughter. When I write about them, I try not to be critical or negative (I try not to be; sometimes the negativity comes through). Pretty much everything I write about my wife is done with her knowledge and prior approval if it is gently mocking or poking fun. (If it's a more sentimental thing, I tend to let it be a surprise to her.)
The majority of other people in my life are secondary characters; bit parts that fill out a scene without actually being developed into distinct individuals. Of course, there are exceptions, such as when I wrote about my father's story. But in general I tend to leave family members alone. (Of notable exception is the four part series I did on my inlaws - part 1, part 2, part 3, and part 4 - which was not positive at all, but was something I needed to write after the year and a half that we had endured. I would never have posted it if they knew this blog address.)
As far as other bloggers go, unless I have exchanges with them off this blog, either in email or real life, I tend not to mention them. In the event I do mention, them, it's always with a bit of linky love, and never negative. (I don't feel it's appropriate to dress someone down in public.)
With the above exceptions outlined, I tend not to write much about actual people. I'll write about events or situations, but not specifically about the people involved. If I do center someone out, it is only for praise, never for ridicule (I save that for the woman I married, apparently). Even in my commentary writing I shy away from direct discussion of a person unless it's repeating known facts for the sake of telling the background to a story. I don't criticize or berate people, regardless of how their actions make me feel.
I know not everyone feels the same way I do about blogging when it comes to real people. I've read some pretty venomous stuff between couples that gets aired on a blog because one spouse comments on the other's blog and it becomes an open, public fight. I just feel like there's a place for negativity, and it's not in the public eye for the world to see.
This post was composed as part of this week's Hump Day Hmm, hosted by Julie Pippert at Using My Words. You can visit her blog to see more perspectives on this subject.
People Are People by A Perfect Circle
Since this is primarily a "daddy blog", it is unavoidable to write about certain people such as my wife and daughter. When I write about them, I try not to be critical or negative (I try not to be; sometimes the negativity comes through). Pretty much everything I write about my wife is done with her knowledge and prior approval if it is gently mocking or poking fun. (If it's a more sentimental thing, I tend to let it be a surprise to her.)
The majority of other people in my life are secondary characters; bit parts that fill out a scene without actually being developed into distinct individuals. Of course, there are exceptions, such as when I wrote about my father's story. But in general I tend to leave family members alone. (Of notable exception is the four part series I did on my inlaws - part 1, part 2, part 3, and part 4 - which was not positive at all, but was something I needed to write after the year and a half that we had endured. I would never have posted it if they knew this blog address.)
As far as other bloggers go, unless I have exchanges with them off this blog, either in email or real life, I tend not to mention them. In the event I do mention, them, it's always with a bit of linky love, and never negative. (I don't feel it's appropriate to dress someone down in public.)
With the above exceptions outlined, I tend not to write much about actual people. I'll write about events or situations, but not specifically about the people involved. If I do center someone out, it is only for praise, never for ridicule (I save that for the woman I married, apparently). Even in my commentary writing I shy away from direct discussion of a person unless it's repeating known facts for the sake of telling the background to a story. I don't criticize or berate people, regardless of how their actions make me feel.
I know not everyone feels the same way I do about blogging when it comes to real people. I've read some pretty venomous stuff between couples that gets aired on a blog because one spouse comments on the other's blog and it becomes an open, public fight. I just feel like there's a place for negativity, and it's not in the public eye for the world to see.
This post was composed as part of this week's Hump Day Hmm, hosted by Julie Pippert at Using My Words. You can visit her blog to see more perspectives on this subject.
THS: An Open Letter
Yes, today's song is from Kelly Clarkson, and it would be very easy for me to lie to you and say that it is all tongue in cheek (like the time I used Britney Spears). However, that is not the case. I actually really like this song. A lot. So, in the words of another blogging dad, I need to go; 1992 SFD just threw up on himself.
Never Again by Kelly Clarkson
Dear Burger Joint:
My family and I had driven by your establishment many times, often tempted by the question, "What would the burgers from a place that offered famous mall food court fries taste like?" Last night, we finally broke down and went inside.
First of all, your pricing is, to be kind, insane. If I am going to pay $8 for a cheeseburger (that would be a burger with neither fries nor drink), it had better be seasoned (i.e. not taste like a lump of meat), hand rolled on the thigh of a virgin and served to me by winged cherubs, not cafeteria style.
Onion rings are to be made with white onions, or, failing that, spanish. They should not be made with sweet red vidalia onions, and definitely not seasoned with a strange mixture that we concluded was cinnamon and nutmeg.
Finally, you serve children's burgers. That means you expect people to bring their young ones with them to eat. In that case, mixed martial arts should not, under any circumstances, be played on the television in your establishment. I have no interest in trying to explain to my not-quite-three-year-old "why that man has red stuff all over his face" nor "why is that man hitting that other man". Also, MMA does not make for appetizing viewing, especially not when one of the competitors is Butterbean.
Unfortunately, for the above reasons, we will never return to your eatery. Good luck finding violence loving members of the upper class who like sweet onions with cinnamon. I'm sure it's not as much of a niche market as I think.
Sincerely,
SciFi Dad
Never Again by Kelly Clarkson
Dear Burger Joint:
My family and I had driven by your establishment many times, often tempted by the question, "What would the burgers from a place that offered famous mall food court fries taste like?" Last night, we finally broke down and went inside.
First of all, your pricing is, to be kind, insane. If I am going to pay $8 for a cheeseburger (that would be a burger with neither fries nor drink), it had better be seasoned (i.e. not taste like a lump of meat), hand rolled on the thigh of a virgin and served to me by winged cherubs, not cafeteria style.
Onion rings are to be made with white onions, or, failing that, spanish. They should not be made with sweet red vidalia onions, and definitely not seasoned with a strange mixture that we concluded was cinnamon and nutmeg.
Finally, you serve children's burgers. That means you expect people to bring their young ones with them to eat. In that case, mixed martial arts should not, under any circumstances, be played on the television in your establishment. I have no interest in trying to explain to my not-quite-three-year-old "why that man has red stuff all over his face" nor "why is that man hitting that other man". Also, MMA does not make for appetizing viewing, especially not when one of the competitors is Butterbean.
Unfortunately, for the above reasons, we will never return to your eatery. Good luck finding violence loving members of the upper class who like sweet onions with cinnamon. I'm sure it's not as much of a niche market as I think.
Sincerely,
SciFi Dad
TRS: Just Call Me Mister Date
Thanks to everyone who offered their feedback on the new layout. A special thanks goes out to Chag, who exchanged a bunch of emails with me on Sunday (his birthday, no less) debating aesthetics and implementations.
I will say that I was somewhat surprised by the critical nature of a number of the comments. I know I asked for honesty and everything, but realistically I didn't throw together what I thought was a crappy design. I thought it looked pretty good.
Anyhow.
I think the new background is less striking, and should blend in with the white sections more easily. And, I was never in love with the banner, so I resurrected the laughing munchkin for the time being (although slightly different itself) until I can find something that appeals to me more. I added the full title to the banner since some thought the logo was confusing. (But the logo stays. I like it. Ditto for the outlined headings.)
Those of you on feeds may want to stop by and see the changes.
No Sleep Till Brooklyn by Beastie Boys
Saturday morning, the munchkin came into our bedroom at 5:30am and asked, "Daddy, after music class, can we please go to [favourite breakfast place] for breakfast?"
I think I muttered something quasi-intelligent about getting breakfast before class and suggested she go back to bed, at which point I heard MTM yell from the munchkin's room, "She's not going back to sleep. She's been wide awake since five."
Thanks sweetie. Love you too.
So after an hour ofusing the electronic babysitter a Dora DVD in our bedroom while I phased in and out of consciousness, I got up, showered, and took her out to breakfast for a daddy-daughter date:
When we arrived, they offered her a highchair. Her response? "No sank you. I have a pwoblem wiff highchairs and my big boots." They were rolling on the floor laughing.
We had a nice breakfast. We chatted, and shared meals, and just hung out. At one point she snuggled into me (without a highchair we were seated side by side in a booth) and I told her I liked her snuggles. She replied, "Daddy, someone left a puddle on the seat."
Sure enough, there was a puddle on the seat (that I had checked for cleanliness prior to putting her down, thankyouverymuch). It was apple juice from her cup. However, even after I wiped it up, she refused to sit near it.
We eventually made it to music class:
The munchkin enjoyed the smoothie MTM made her for lunch that day as well:
So, why am I Mr. Date? Because aside from the Daddy-daughter date that morning, my in-laws came over to watch the munchkin while MTM and I went out for our first date in almost a year (seriously). Of course, since my in-laws arecrazy old people "concerned about nighttime travel" we had to hit the 4pm show (Juno - meh, with a side of "nice soundtrack") and grab a quick dinner (MTM's favourite: Swiss Chalet - the restaurant with three things on the menu that don't make me puke... See how nice a date I am? I always let my ladies choose the restaurant, even if it's a bad one.)
Sunday morning, the munchkin got me out of bed shortly before 6am. This time I just gave up and got up.
The bulk of the day was spent indoors. We hung out, played, and I made a batch of soup (perfect for a cold winter day).
The munchkin (and her doll) also typed an email to her cousins:
All in all, a pretty good weekend. I mean, how many guys had two dates on Saturday?
For those interested, I have a new Daditorial up as well where I look at a three parent embryo.
I will say that I was somewhat surprised by the critical nature of a number of the comments. I know I asked for honesty and everything, but realistically I didn't throw together what I thought was a crappy design. I thought it looked pretty good.
Anyhow.
I think the new background is less striking, and should blend in with the white sections more easily. And, I was never in love with the banner, so I resurrected the laughing munchkin for the time being (although slightly different itself) until I can find something that appeals to me more. I added the full title to the banner since some thought the logo was confusing. (But the logo stays. I like it. Ditto for the outlined headings.)
Those of you on feeds may want to stop by and see the changes.
No Sleep Till Brooklyn by Beastie Boys
Saturday morning, the munchkin came into our bedroom at 5:30am and asked, "Daddy, after music class, can we please go to [favourite breakfast place] for breakfast?"
I think I muttered something quasi-intelligent about getting breakfast before class and suggested she go back to bed, at which point I heard MTM yell from the munchkin's room, "She's not going back to sleep. She's been wide awake since five."
Thanks sweetie. Love you too.
So after an hour of
When we arrived, they offered her a highchair. Her response? "No sank you. I have a pwoblem wiff highchairs and my big boots." They were rolling on the floor laughing.
We had a nice breakfast. We chatted, and shared meals, and just hung out. At one point she snuggled into me (without a highchair we were seated side by side in a booth) and I told her I liked her snuggles. She replied, "Daddy, someone left a puddle on the seat."
Sure enough, there was a puddle on the seat (that I had checked for cleanliness prior to putting her down, thankyouverymuch). It was apple juice from her cup. However, even after I wiped it up, she refused to sit near it.
We eventually made it to music class:
The munchkin enjoyed the smoothie MTM made her for lunch that day as well:
So, why am I Mr. Date? Because aside from the Daddy-daughter date that morning, my in-laws came over to watch the munchkin while MTM and I went out for our first date in almost a year (seriously). Of course, since my in-laws are
Sunday morning, the munchkin got me out of bed shortly before 6am. This time I just gave up and got up.
The bulk of the day was spent indoors. We hung out, played, and I made a batch of soup (perfect for a cold winter day).
The munchkin (and her doll) also typed an email to her cousins:
All in all, a pretty good weekend. I mean, how many guys had two dates on Saturday?
For those interested, I have a new Daditorial up as well where I look at a three parent embryo.
TBS: A New Look
A special request to those of you reading via feeds: please click through today. Things look more than a little different over here on the real blog, and I'd like your feedback too.
Break On Through (To The Other Side) by The Doors
(Come on feed reader people, I even dedicated today's song to you!)
So, aside from the obvious aesthetics (which I changed after two years of listening to my wifebitch about comment on her difficulties reading on dark backgrounds), there are some other differences as well.
First, the new blog roll: I had always maintained a concise list in the hopes of avoiding a never-ending blog roll. I toyed with a few ideas, and came up with this one. If you're not there and think you should be, drop me a line and I'll see what I can do.
I also removed the bulk of the feed sets on the right sidebar, leaving only the recommended posts. Now that my blog roll is a complete list of who I read regularly, I didn't need the recent posts.
The hold up has been the banner/header at the top. I have been wrestling with it for a week, and finally came up with a design that uses images of my daughter without actually looking like my daughter that I like.
So, what do you think? I want honest feedback, not just supportive lip service (although if you do like it, you can say that too).
Updates:
I am aware that the blog roll is empty. There is a major issue at Blogrolling, the service I am using for my new roll (right now their homepage is a "fatal error" message only). The roll is up as of 11am-ish today.
IE6 users will see a significantly different look than I anticipated, owing to how it handles PNG files and div statements. I'm sorry; all I can suggest is for you to upgrade (it has been over a year since the release of IE7).
IE7 users will see a slightly different look. If you really want to see what I intended, use Firefox, as that is what I developed with. (Plus, there's a whole bunch of other reasons.)
If there is a kind Mac user out there who would send me a Safari screen cap (email in profile), I'd really appreciate it. Thanks to Holly for sending me a cap (and verifying that indeed, only IE fails to render properly).
I figured some of you would say something about the U-S-A combination of red/white/blue. I'm going to fiddle with the background this weekend and see if I can "de-Americanize" the look somewhat.
As for the banner, a couple readers have lamented the demise of the laughing munchkin. I will take that under advisement and consider making a new banner that incorporates that image.
Keep the feedback coming, please.
Here's what I did yesterday:
Courtesy of the massive dumping of snow we received, I worked from home. The munchkin decided to work "with" me. Unfortunately, she didn't get the whole "work in silence" thing typically associated with offices.
We also had this:
6am
Munchkin: Mommy, I want some pineapple and some milk so I can be healfy.
MTM: Of course, sweetheart.
7am
Munchkin: Daddy, can I please have some milk and an orange?
SFD: Yes, you may, sweetheart. Those are healthy choices for breakfast.
8am
Munchkin: Mommy, can I please have an apple and some more milk?
MTM: Yes! Oh Bunny, I am so happy that you like healthy food.
9am
Munchkin: Mommy, can I have some whipped cream?
Break On Through (To The Other Side) by The Doors
(Come on feed reader people, I even dedicated today's song to you!)
So, aside from the obvious aesthetics (which I changed after two years of listening to my wife
First, the new blog roll: I had always maintained a concise list in the hopes of avoiding a never-ending blog roll. I toyed with a few ideas, and came up with this one. If you're not there and think you should be, drop me a line and I'll see what I can do.
I also removed the bulk of the feed sets on the right sidebar, leaving only the recommended posts. Now that my blog roll is a complete list of who I read regularly, I didn't need the recent posts.
The hold up has been the banner/header at the top. I have been wrestling with it for a week, and finally came up with a design that uses images of my daughter without actually looking like my daughter that I like.
So, what do you think? I want honest feedback, not just supportive lip service (although if you do like it, you can say that too).
Updates:
IE6 users will see a significantly different look than I anticipated, owing to how it handles PNG files and div statements. I'm sorry; all I can suggest is for you to upgrade (it has been over a year since the release of IE7).
IE7 users will see a slightly different look. If you really want to see what I intended, use Firefox, as that is what I developed with. (Plus, there's a whole bunch of other reasons.)
I figured some of you would say something about the U-S-A combination of red/white/blue. I'm going to fiddle with the background this weekend and see if I can "de-Americanize" the look somewhat.
As for the banner, a couple readers have lamented the demise of the laughing munchkin. I will take that under advisement and consider making a new banner that incorporates that image.
Keep the feedback coming, please.
Here's what I did yesterday:
Courtesy of the massive dumping of snow we received, I worked from home. The munchkin decided to work "with" me. Unfortunately, she didn't get the whole "work in silence" thing typically associated with offices.
We also had this:
6am
Munchkin: Mommy, I want some pineapple and some milk so I can be healfy.
MTM: Of course, sweetheart.
7am
Munchkin: Daddy, can I please have some milk and an orange?
SFD: Yes, you may, sweetheart. Those are healthy choices for breakfast.
8am
Munchkin: Mommy, can I please have an apple and some more milk?
MTM: Yes! Oh Bunny, I am so happy that you like healthy food.
9am
Munchkin: Mommy, can I have some whipped cream?
TDS: A Munchkin First
Last night we had a "first" in the munchkin's life. For the first time, she ate everything on her plate. Everything that we served her for dinner last night was consumed. And then she asked for seconds. So, we brought her some more, and she ate all that too.
Now, what makes this more monumental is that the meal was prepared not by the culinary master known as Multi-Tasking Mommy, but your humble host, SciFi Dad. (Life is not a competition; I know this. But if I was... I WON! I WON!! I WON!!!)
Gonna Fly Now
(Yes, I will likely pay for that later, but it was worth it.)
What did I serve my little darling child? What meal did I prepare for my family about which, after her second helping, MTM said, "I could finish that pan, but instead I'll leave it; there's enough for all three of us for dinner tomorrow"?
A recipe I learned from my father, called, "meat with potatoes".
(My father, while an excellent cook, has never mastered the art of presentation. I have recipes stored in my head called "italian pizza" (actually a potato egg omelete), "chocolate soup" (actually a variation of pasta e fagioli where the broth and beans are pureed), and "pasta with salami" (a pasta served with a tomato sauce that has chunks of cured salami instead of meatballs). So, this name is par for the course.)
What is it? Basically, potatoes cut into half-inch cubes and fried with salt and pepper mixed with browned ground beef that has been seasoned similarly (although last night's version employed steak spice instead of plain salt and pepper). Fry each separately, then combine and cook until slightly more browned. Voila (or something like that).
I have finally decided to share my mug with the internets. I have hidden behind this screen long enough. Now, you will all see what I really look like:
Portrait Of SciFi Dad by The Munchkin, aged 2 years and 10 months
And for those who are having some difficulty:
There, don't you all feel like you know me better now that you've seen my face?
Now, what makes this more monumental is that the meal was prepared not by the culinary master known as Multi-Tasking Mommy, but your humble host, SciFi Dad. (Life is not a competition; I know this. But if I was... I WON! I WON!! I WON!!!)
Gonna Fly Now
(Yes, I will likely pay for that later, but it was worth it.)
What did I serve my little darling child? What meal did I prepare for my family about which, after her second helping, MTM said, "I could finish that pan, but instead I'll leave it; there's enough for all three of us for dinner tomorrow"?
A recipe I learned from my father, called, "meat with potatoes".
(My father, while an excellent cook, has never mastered the art of presentation. I have recipes stored in my head called "italian pizza" (actually a potato egg omelete), "chocolate soup" (actually a variation of pasta e fagioli where the broth and beans are pureed), and "pasta with salami" (a pasta served with a tomato sauce that has chunks of cured salami instead of meatballs). So, this name is par for the course.)
What is it? Basically, potatoes cut into half-inch cubes and fried with salt and pepper mixed with browned ground beef that has been seasoned similarly (although last night's version employed steak spice instead of plain salt and pepper). Fry each separately, then combine and cook until slightly more browned. Voila (or something like that).
I have finally decided to share my mug with the internets. I have hidden behind this screen long enough. Now, you will all see what I really look like:
Portrait Of SciFi Dad by The Munchkin, aged 2 years and 10 months
And for those who are having some difficulty:
There, don't you all feel like you know me better now that you've seen my face?
TWS: A Seminal Moment
We talked about it, and decided to make "Spouse Swap Wednesday" a non-weekly event in order to keep it fresh. So, this week you're stuck with me. You can always go and read MTM's blog if you're missing your "fix".
The images in today's post were all taken by my MIL with her point and shoot film camera onto slide film back in 1989. I scanned those slides for a Christmas gift last year, and still have the source files on my hard drive, so I decided to use them for today's post.
Today's song comes from our wedding; it was our "last dance" song. It is also appropriate for this post, conveniently enough.
All I Want Is You - U2
In every relationship there are seminal moments, events that shape the relationship in ways that cannot be fully appreciated until long after the relationship has blossomed. This is the story of one of those moments in my relationship with MTM.
My wife and I met online at the end of May. (You can read the detailed version of that story - in three parts - in my archives: part 1, part 2, and part 3.) By the middle of June, we were getting pretty serious; serious enough to be having overnights and spending entire weekends together (at my apartment - she lived with her parents at the time).
As July approached, I mentioned that I had booked some time off work surrounding the Canada Day weekend, and had hoped we could spend some time together (instead of my original plan to head to my parents' place and just hang out with my sister). She replied with an offer of joining her and her family at the cottage up north. I was a little apprehensive about spending the weekend there (my MIL already didn't like me very much because we met online, plus I was - and still am - a city boy) but agreed. MTM squared it away with her parents, and everything was set.
The day we were planning to leave for the cottage, I got a call at the office from MTM. Apparently plans had "changed" (according to my MIL) and "it would be better" if I didn't come (something about having enough space for everyone). I was crestfallen because I thought it meant I would not get to spend my week off with MTM, but then she informed me that she was not going to the cottage without me, and would be at my apartment that evening when I arrived home from work.
We would spend the better part of the week together. We went out for dinner, movies, shopping and whatever else we wanted to do. I lived just off Lake Ontario at the time, so we had picnics on the lakeshore (at the same spot I would eventually propose) and just enjoyed spending time together. It was, by all accounts, a perfect vacation, and the start of it marked the day I smoked my last cigarette (she didn't like me smoking, so spending that much time with her weaned me off enough to quit completely).
What I would learn later is that this was the first Canada Day weekend in her twenty-some-odd years on the planet that she was not at the family cottage. It was tradition; something that she had always known, something that was just understood. For her to tell her mother, "If SFD can't come, I'm not coming," was not only incredibly difficult for her; it also marked the first time she would take someone else's side so dramatically. That decision would galvanize MTM and me as a single, united front in her parents' eyes - something that would prove both beneficial (to us) and detrimental (to the relationship with her parents) as our relationship progressed.
Of course, this is just one moment in what has been an amazing adventure so far. But it was pivotal in ways that I couldn't realize at the time, and didn't get a chance to properly thank her until much after the fact. She made a decision that day, a huge decision that impacted both our lives, and I am so grateful that she did.
The images in today's post were all taken by my MIL with her point and shoot film camera onto slide film back in 1989. I scanned those slides for a Christmas gift last year, and still have the source files on my hard drive, so I decided to use them for today's post.
Today's song comes from our wedding; it was our "last dance" song. It is also appropriate for this post, conveniently enough.
All I Want Is You - U2
In every relationship there are seminal moments, events that shape the relationship in ways that cannot be fully appreciated until long after the relationship has blossomed. This is the story of one of those moments in my relationship with MTM.
My wife and I met online at the end of May. (You can read the detailed version of that story - in three parts - in my archives: part 1, part 2, and part 3.) By the middle of June, we were getting pretty serious; serious enough to be having overnights and spending entire weekends together (at my apartment - she lived with her parents at the time).
As July approached, I mentioned that I had booked some time off work surrounding the Canada Day weekend, and had hoped we could spend some time together (instead of my original plan to head to my parents' place and just hang out with my sister). She replied with an offer of joining her and her family at the cottage up north. I was a little apprehensive about spending the weekend there (my MIL already didn't like me very much because we met online, plus I was - and still am - a city boy) but agreed. MTM squared it away with her parents, and everything was set.
The day we were planning to leave for the cottage, I got a call at the office from MTM. Apparently plans had "changed" (according to my MIL) and "it would be better" if I didn't come (something about having enough space for everyone). I was crestfallen because I thought it meant I would not get to spend my week off with MTM, but then she informed me that she was not going to the cottage without me, and would be at my apartment that evening when I arrived home from work.
We would spend the better part of the week together. We went out for dinner, movies, shopping and whatever else we wanted to do. I lived just off Lake Ontario at the time, so we had picnics on the lakeshore (at the same spot I would eventually propose) and just enjoyed spending time together. It was, by all accounts, a perfect vacation, and the start of it marked the day I smoked my last cigarette (she didn't like me smoking, so spending that much time with her weaned me off enough to quit completely).
What I would learn later is that this was the first Canada Day weekend in her twenty-some-odd years on the planet that she was not at the family cottage. It was tradition; something that she had always known, something that was just understood. For her to tell her mother, "If SFD can't come, I'm not coming," was not only incredibly difficult for her; it also marked the first time she would take someone else's side so dramatically. That decision would galvanize MTM and me as a single, united front in her parents' eyes - something that would prove both beneficial (to us) and detrimental (to the relationship with her parents) as our relationship progressed.
Of course, this is just one moment in what has been an amazing adventure so far. But it was pivotal in ways that I couldn't realize at the time, and didn't get a chance to properly thank her until much after the fact. She made a decision that day, a huge decision that impacted both our lives, and I am so grateful that she did.
TDS: The "New" Munchkin
Once again, I have decided not to use Cross Eyed Mary by Jethro Tull, even if it would be a funny choice.
Behind Blue Eyes by The Who
Usually, my wife and I agree to have only one of us post about a particular subject; it prevents the (few) readers we share from hearing the same anecdotes twice. However, this is one subject that we both felt we wanted to write about. She wrote about it yesterday, and I will write about it today.
Remember when I told you about the munchkin's eye exam? It seems I failed to mention that the conclusion was that she needed glasses (no surprise; we knew she had an astigmatism based on a previous opthamologist visit). Late last week, she got them:
Now, since most of you have never actually seen my daughter's face (and likely never will thanks to the wonderful google hits I see), you'll have to take my word for it, but she looks really different with them. Logically, this makes sense to me: everyone tells me how different I look without my glasses (I've worn them since I was three, like the munchkin), so it should not have been such a huge surprise.
But it was.
I came home from work, having already received a (poorly taken during snacktime) photo at the office of the new look, and was startled by what I saw. To me, she looked nothing like the little girl I left that morning to go to work. She looked nothing like the child I have raised and come to know and learn about and from. Of course, I hid these facts from her as best as I could, and her unbridled enthusiasm about the new glasses distracted her from whatever abnormal behaviour I exhibited. But the fact remains that I felt more than a little sad when I first saw her, not because she had glasses, but because she didn't look like my little girl.
And I felt like shit for thinking it.
I didn't think about the potential for being ostracized or teased by other kids. I didn't think about how difficult gym class would be (dodgeball presents the conundrum: no glasses = can't see the ball and getting hit; with glasses = paranoia about getting hit in the face). I didn't think about the headaches as her eyes adjusted, or the nagging irritation at the back of the ears from a new pair of glasses. No, I thought about what she looked like.
She's still my little girl, I thought to myself. Why does this bother me? MTM thought she looked older with the glasses; I didn't see that. Her eyes look so different, I thought, How can she look so different with glasses on?
Since then, I have gotten used to the "new munchkin". It's still odd for me to look at her with them on, but I'm not as shocked as I was at first. Still, the guilt about my initial reaction lingers. She'll always be my little girl; nothing can change that. But somehow, things are different now than they were before:
Now I understand why she is always telling me, "Daddy, please put your glasses on." It was familiar, it was my "normal" look. Now, her "normal" look has changed, and I have to adapt to it. But that doesn't mean I can't miss the old "normal" at the same time.
Behind Blue Eyes by The Who
Usually, my wife and I agree to have only one of us post about a particular subject; it prevents the (few) readers we share from hearing the same anecdotes twice. However, this is one subject that we both felt we wanted to write about. She wrote about it yesterday, and I will write about it today.
Remember when I told you about the munchkin's eye exam? It seems I failed to mention that the conclusion was that she needed glasses (no surprise; we knew she had an astigmatism based on a previous opthamologist visit). Late last week, she got them:
Now, since most of you have never actually seen my daughter's face (and likely never will thanks to the wonderful google hits I see), you'll have to take my word for it, but she looks really different with them. Logically, this makes sense to me: everyone tells me how different I look without my glasses (I've worn them since I was three, like the munchkin), so it should not have been such a huge surprise.
But it was.
I came home from work, having already received a (poorly taken during snacktime) photo at the office of the new look, and was startled by what I saw. To me, she looked nothing like the little girl I left that morning to go to work. She looked nothing like the child I have raised and come to know and learn about and from. Of course, I hid these facts from her as best as I could, and her unbridled enthusiasm about the new glasses distracted her from whatever abnormal behaviour I exhibited. But the fact remains that I felt more than a little sad when I first saw her, not because she had glasses, but because she didn't look like my little girl.
And I felt like shit for thinking it.
I didn't think about the potential for being ostracized or teased by other kids. I didn't think about how difficult gym class would be (dodgeball presents the conundrum: no glasses = can't see the ball and getting hit; with glasses = paranoia about getting hit in the face). I didn't think about the headaches as her eyes adjusted, or the nagging irritation at the back of the ears from a new pair of glasses. No, I thought about what she looked like.
She's still my little girl, I thought to myself. Why does this bother me? MTM thought she looked older with the glasses; I didn't see that. Her eyes look so different, I thought, How can she look so different with glasses on?
Since then, I have gotten used to the "new munchkin". It's still odd for me to look at her with them on, but I'm not as shocked as I was at first. Still, the guilt about my initial reaction lingers. She'll always be my little girl; nothing can change that. But somehow, things are different now than they were before:
Now I understand why she is always telling me, "Daddy, please put your glasses on." It was familiar, it was my "normal" look. Now, her "normal" look has changed, and I have to adapt to it. But that doesn't mean I can't miss the old "normal" at the same time.
TRS: Superbowl Weekend
This is another song that has no relationship to the post below it, just that the author of the post really likes the song. I discovered it while watching the finale of season one of Roswell on DVD, and liked it enough to figure out the artist and title.
Nothing Box by Hypnogaja
Today's post is going to be a little on the lighter side in terms of content. Normally, I've got a pile of photos to choose from and I have to whittle that number down to something reasonable. However, this weekend I spent a lot more time living my weekend instead of documenting it.
The better part of my weekend was spent redesigning this blog. Now, before any feed readers click through, I have not implemented these changes yet (but that doesn't mean you can't click through and comment). I'm still tweaking here, and adjusting there. I hope to have it ready later this week, or over the weekend.
Friday night, MTM went out with a friend, leaving the munchkin and I to our own devices (which basically means a less-than-healthy dinner and extra tv time - used for Diego - in lieu of the normal routine). I spent the bulk of the evening getting intimate... with CSS.
Saturday was a lazy day around these parts. We just kind of hung out, played with puzzles, and did stuff around the house (like, say, more CSS). We capped it off with dinner at East Side Mario's (munchkin's choice) and a stop at Blockbuster where the munchkin chose a Dora DVD (surprise, surprise) and MTM chose The Game Plan, starring hersecret celebrity boyfriend favourite actor du jour, The Rock. (Two second review: it was OK, and aside from a certain non-kid-friendly element - which would give away part of the plot - would be a perfect daddy-daughter movie.)
Sunday, morning while MTM puttered around the kitchen and I spent more time withmy secret lover CSS, the munchkin decided it was time to hit the local splash pad. Fortunately, she also realized it was "too cold for a bathing suit":
Later that day, my sister and her family came for lunch on their way home from a ski resort. The munchkin was so excited to have her cousins over: they played Candy Land and Hungry Hungry Hippos, and hung out in her bedroom playing whatever games she decided they would play.
After a daddy-daughter nap (two weekend mornings with a 6am wakeup call do not a happy Daddy make), we settled in for a little pre-game, followed by our traditional Superbowl "dinner" of finger food/hors d'oeuvres (pants were, apparently, optional this year):
note that she also has veggies on her plate; we're not terrible parents
There may or may not have been some consumption of traditional Superbowl beverages as well:
And that's it. I watched Bill Belichick outthink New England's chances at perfection (going for it on fourth down in the third quarter instead of trying the 49 yard FG reeked of the overconfident coaching style we've seen all year) and topped the night off with an excellent new episode (a term too rare these days) of House.
What did you do?
Nothing Box by Hypnogaja
Today's post is going to be a little on the lighter side in terms of content. Normally, I've got a pile of photos to choose from and I have to whittle that number down to something reasonable. However, this weekend I spent a lot more time living my weekend instead of documenting it.
The better part of my weekend was spent redesigning this blog. Now, before any feed readers click through, I have not implemented these changes yet (but that doesn't mean you can't click through and comment). I'm still tweaking here, and adjusting there. I hope to have it ready later this week, or over the weekend.
Friday night, MTM went out with a friend, leaving the munchkin and I to our own devices (which basically means a less-than-healthy dinner and extra tv time - used for Diego - in lieu of the normal routine). I spent the bulk of the evening getting intimate... with CSS.
Saturday was a lazy day around these parts. We just kind of hung out, played with puzzles, and did stuff around the house (like, say, more CSS). We capped it off with dinner at East Side Mario's (munchkin's choice) and a stop at Blockbuster where the munchkin chose a Dora DVD (surprise, surprise) and MTM chose The Game Plan, starring her
Sunday, morning while MTM puttered around the kitchen and I spent more time with
Later that day, my sister and her family came for lunch on their way home from a ski resort. The munchkin was so excited to have her cousins over: they played Candy Land and Hungry Hungry Hippos, and hung out in her bedroom playing whatever games she decided they would play.
After a daddy-daughter nap (two weekend mornings with a 6am wakeup call do not a happy Daddy make), we settled in for a little pre-game, followed by our traditional Superbowl "dinner" of finger food/hors d'oeuvres (pants were, apparently, optional this year):
note that she also has veggies on her plate; we're not terrible parents
There may or may not have been some consumption of traditional Superbowl beverages as well:
And that's it. I watched Bill Belichick outthink New England's chances at perfection (going for it on fourth down in the third quarter instead of trying the 49 yard FG reeked of the overconfident coaching style we've seen all year) and topped the night off with an excellent new episode (a term too rare these days) of House.
What did you do?
TWS: Ooh Ooh Oooh...
Since the general rule of blogs is that no one reads below the most recent post, it is likely that no one else will vote on the poll from yesterday. So, once we strip off the 3 default votes (the polling site I used - and will never use again - put one vote for each option to start), we have eight votes for weekly, three for occasionally, and one for never (which, incidentally, really hurt my wife's feelings... nice going). I'll have to talk to her and see if she wants to come here every week (but only on the condition that there's no more mushy stuff; I have an image to maintain, you know).
Sometimes, I don't think my wife gets my sense of humour. Either that, or my mind just works different than the average bear (who snores,amplified by a million (whatever that means)).
Last night, while the three of us were hanging out on the floor playing blocks, we had the following exchange...
Multi-Tasking Mommy: I've got chills
SciFi Dad: Are they multiplying?
MTM: Huh?
SFD: Are you losing control?
MTM: What?
SFD: Is it electifying?
MTM: What are you talking about?
SFD: Nevermind.
MTM: No, seriously, what?
SFD: Do you want me?
MTM: What?
SFD: Let me rephrase that. Am I the one that you want?
MTM: Just tell me what you're talking about.*
Now, be honest here, dear reader. At point in that exchange did you get the joke? Please tell me in the comments. Oh, and for those of you who still don't get it even now:
You're The One That I Want
* To be fair, she had already said she wasn't feeling 100%, and had been tired all day, so at this point I just sang the song (poorly) and let her out of her misery.
Sometimes, I don't think my wife gets my sense of humour. Either that, or my mind just works different than the average bear (who snores,
Last night, while the three of us were hanging out on the floor playing blocks, we had the following exchange...
Multi-Tasking Mommy: I've got chills
SciFi Dad: Are they multiplying?
MTM: Huh?
SFD: Are you losing control?
MTM: What?
SFD: Is it electifying?
MTM: What are you talking about?
SFD: Nevermind.
MTM: No, seriously, what?
SFD: Do you want me?
MTM: What?
SFD: Let me rephrase that. Am I the one that you want?
MTM: Just tell me what you're talking about.*
Now, be honest here, dear reader. At point in that exchange did you get the joke? Please tell me in the comments. Oh, and for those of you who still don't get it even now:
You're The One That I Want
* To be fair, she had already said she wasn't feeling 100%, and had been tired all day, so at this point I just sang the song (poorly) and let her out of her misery.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
