TRS: Munchkinpalooza 2008

Yesterday, my baby girl daughter turned three years old. As is our tradition (two links there), we had another Munchkinpalooza this weekend, which (apparently) will carry through to today, as I open today's post with what is currently her favourite song.


Let's Get Loud by The Doodlebops
On Saturday, we had a party for the munchkin and her friends. Her first birthday was a family-only affair. Last year, we had two friends because she turned two. With the upcoming sibling, we decided that this year's party should be a little bigger, so we booked an indoor playground and got a group of rugrats kids hopped up on birthday cake and apple juice and had them run wild for a couple hours:


The cake (that they provided for a fee) was nowhere near the size needed, so everyone got a sliver of cake. However, it did have Dora on it, so the munchkin was cool:


One of the guests was Doodle, of Working On Perfect fame, who came despite just getting a new baby sister the day before:


Since we were having a family birthday dinner on Sunday, We decided to let the munchkin choose her restaurant for dinner Saturday night. Of course, she chose East Side Mario's. She also sweet-talked the server into upgrading her free birthday dessert to a cheesecake (complete with do-it-yourself strawberry sauce):


Unfortunately, Mommy also hyped the "birthday wheel" that they used to have there, so the munchkin was all keyed up for something and then got disappointed when she learned the thing had been retired. Luckily, her parents think quickly on their feet, and remembered that the nearby Zellers had a wheel of it's own:


That night she was so excited by her pending birthday that she couldn't fall asleep. She was awake when we all went to bed at 11:30pm (her usual bedtime is 7:30pm).

Sunday morning the munchkin got up like nothing was wrong and opened her presents. Of note was a Hello Kitty alarm clock (it's shaped like a big teacup, and the lemon wedge is actually a little night light):


And a digital camera of her own:


Sunday afternoon the munchkin again resisted the call of sleep, and did not nap before heading to my in-laws to share birthday celebrations with my FIL (whose birthday is Sunday also). She did take a 20 minute cat-nap in the van though.

The big gift from them was:


An easel!


OK, can I ask you all a question: do you think it's odd for a grandparent to give their grandchild a gift (like say, an easel, with paints and a smock and chalk and everything) and then tell them that the gift isn't for them to take home? I mean, how are we supposed to explain to a three year old why they received a gift for their grandparent's house? Or is it just me?

Digression aside, the departure from their place was, shall we say, eventful. As I was in the midst of setting up an iPod that my SIL got my FIL, I heard the munchkin wailing. We packed up and tried to get her in the car. She was hysterical by this point and wanted nothing to do with the car seat. So I asked her, "Where do you want to go?"

"Toys R Us," came her reply in between sobs.

I looked at my watch. 7:30pm. Sunday. "OK we can try and go to Toys R Us." I get the what the hell are you doing? look from my wife that I know all too well.

The munchkin settles and we get on the road. She remains awake for the entire 45 minute drive home. When I say, "We're almost home," she freaks out again.

"You said Toys R Us!"

"Oh no! I forgot it's Sunday. Toys R Us is closed."

Cue wailing and flailing and screaming. "No, it's open!"

So to keep the peace, we drove by Toys R Us and saw the barred up windows, the lights off. We have agreed to go to Toys R Us today, although with a series of early-morning vomit events (caused either by one of the kids at the party, or my SIL who was kind enough not to stay home when sick), we'll play that by ear.

TPS: The Munchkin's Thoughts

I've told you about the baby, and I've told you about home we struggled with fertility issues for quite a while before we got to that point. But what I haven't told you is how the munchkin feels about all this.


(Nice Dream) by Radiohead
She is beside herself with excitement, literally. The night we told her she jumped and paced the floor in circles for nearly an hour talking non-stop about life with the baby and what she'd do.

Here are some random quotes:

• "I'm going to be a big sister! Yay!"


• "Mommy has a baby in her tummy! Yay!


• "The baby is a sister" (despite our attempts to convince her there's a 50/50 chance of each, she insists it's a girl)


• "A big sister's job is to hug the baby and kiss the baby" (this is something we're trying to entrench in her mind)


• "The baby needs a Pinkie" (she insisted on putting a stuffed animal in the empty crib for the baby)


• "I have a baby in my tummy. Mommy will be the big sister." (what will Daddy be? The daddy.)


• "The baby won't be a little baby when it comes out" (because it will be a long time before the baby comes out)


• "We need to go to Ikea so I can buy a stool" (so I can reach inside the crib and get the baby out)

Finally, here's a video (technically audio only with text commentary):

TPS: How We Got Here

Here we go with the pregnancy stuff I warned you about. We will open with a brief survey of how we got here. (No, not that level of detail, perverts!)


Baby Love by Diana Ross & The Supremes
With the munchkin, MTM simply had to say, "Wanna make a baby?" to me one night and bam she was pregnant. (Well, not exactly. The first month wasn't a success, but the second was.) We actually confirmed that pregnancy with a home test on our first wedding anniversary.

We had planned on starting to try for our second around my birthday (June) in 2006, which would have made the munchkin nearly two when the new baby came. Then in April of 2006 I broke my ankle, which postponed efforts until August.

Unfortunately, during my recovery, my in-laws sold their house and moved up north to their cottage. This also meant they were staying with us for 2-3 days every few weeks (for doctor appointments, hair appointments, visiting friends in the area, et cetera). Their visits were not only stressful and difficult, but they also seemed to always correspond to MTM's ovulation date. One time we attempted to try "quietly", but it all felt too much like high school, so we quickly abandoned that plan.

That is not to say that we didn't still give it the good old college try. We did, and some months we thought we had succeeded only to reach day 38 or even 42 and discover evidence that we had fertilized but failed to implant. This probably happened six or eight times over the course of our efforts.

If you asked MTM, we had been trying for a year and a half before succeeding. She was in panic mode before the standard 12 months was up: getting blood work done, cutting out various dietary things, going to a naturopath/acupuncturist. She even had me lined up to provide "a sample".

If you asked me, the answer would be a few months tops. This is because I steadfastly maintained that as long as my in-laws were disrupting our lives, stressing us out, and generally making nuissances of themselves, neither MTM nor I would be relaxed. And as any book or internet site or doctor will tell you, stress does not make for easy conception.

They moved into their new house in October of 2007. We conceived in January of 2008. We confirmed with a home pregnancy test on Valentine's Day.

And yesterday, we got this:


kinda looks like a kidney bean...

TWS: Anthony Hopkins And The Heebee Jeebees

I would like to extend a huge thank you to everyone who commented yesterday. It was really appreciated. A special thanks goes out to Steen who actually posted an announcement over at her place as well.

In the upcoming days, there will be many pregnancy-related posts, as I take the time to catch you all up on the goings-on since we learned of the second coming.


Broken by Seether
When we hit the local video store, I pick a few movies and MTM walks the munchkin around. Then, I give her my recommendations, and she picks one.

A couple weeks ago, we were there for some DVDs to rent for the weekend. I handed over my choices, and as she read the backs, she immediately handed one back to me, "Nope. No way," she said.

"Why not?"

"He's in it. Anthony Hopkins. That's the guy from The Silence Of The Lambs, right?"

"Right."

"Then no. He gives me the heebee jeebees."

"OK."

* * *
Earlier this week, MTM was working on the computer, and there was nothing on tv, so I scanned the on-demand movie list. I found a Hopkins movie, and knowing how she felt about the lead, I figured I'd watch it without her.

Near the end of the movie, she came in the living room and asked, "What are you watching?"

"Fracture."

"What's that?"

"It's a movie where Anthony Hopkins plays a brilliant engineer who kills his wife because she cheated on him."

"See? That's why I don't like his movies!"

"Why? Are you cheating^* on me, your brilliant engineer of a husband?"

^*For the record, she is not cheating on me, nor did I suspect anything of the sort. It was a sarcastic jab. That's all.

TPS: Press Release

BLOGOSPHERE - Tales From The Dad Side, part of the MTM/SFD Group is pleased to announce the pending release of its latest product, Kid 2.0 (project codename "New Baby"). Kid 2.0 is currently in week 12 of development and is expected to arrive in early October, 2008.

Kid 2.0 will ship with basic features, including: eating, pooping, and crying. It is also hoped that Kid 2.0 will ship with a sleep feature, although details on that fact are sketchy at the present time.

The release will also feature the upgrade of Kid 1.0 (project codename "Munchkin") to Kid 1.5. Kid 1.5 will see the disappearance of the only child module, but will feature additional modules in its place, including the big sister module and the Mommy's helper module.

More information will be passed along as details become available.


Beautiful Day by U2
FYI - the requisite belly shot is available via MTM.

TRS: Easter Weekend

My apologies to all my blogging friends; I left for home early Thursday morning, and returned Sunday evening. I have been to some of your blogs, and tried to be a good blogger and comment, but mostly, I've been catching up without leaving anything for you. I will try and be better once I have fewer unread items in my Google Reader (because having a high number there stresses me out so I have to keep reading instead of commenting).

We went home this weekend; we went for my dad, for Easter (even though none of my siblings are religious at all, we all go back for my parents who hold this as more important than Christmas), and for my family's edition of the munchkin's birthday (which comes next weekend).


Sulk by Radiohead
It was stressful. Neither my sister who lives in town nor my mother drive, so I was often ferrying them back and forth. I was also often at the hospital, a place which fills me with anxiety and trepidation at the best of times, let alone when my father is in there recovering from surgery and looking weaker than I've ever seen him. I felt unwell most of the weekend, and as I write this I still feel uncertain if I am sick or just feeling the after-effects of stress and anxiety.

A brief update on my father: on Wednesday night, we got a call very late (never a good sign) that he had been transferred to CCU (cardiac care unit) because his pulse and blood pressure were really low. So, when we arrived Thursday to see him, he looked more harried because of the scare. Between then and Sunday, he improved tremendously. His catheter was removed, and subsequently he was able to walk with the assistance of a walker. He's been discharged from the neurosurgeon's care, and the internist who took over has asked for a cardiac consult (supposedly to happen sometime today) to double check some anomalies and make sure there wasn't a heart attack at some point. Bottom line: he seems to be on the mend.

With that said, here are some things I could have done without this weekend:

• seeing my dad's junk
• seeing my dad's junk with a catheter involved
• seeing my dad's junk immediately after catheter removal
• helping my dad get his junk into pair of underpants
• being the guy who brought KFC into the cardiac floor (because my father said the hospital food was awful and I was feeling guilty for taking a week to get to see him)

Now, on with the pictures:


the munchkin sharing a birthday cupcake with my dad in the hospital

the munchkin opening her birthday gifts

the new Dora Crocs that were a huge hit

as was the Diego Easter basket, complete with binoculars and safari hat

the birthday cake/cupcakes

for Easter, my parents gave her new rainboots and an umbrella (clearly we are not of the superstitious ilk)
(Be honest, how many of you thought there would be a picture of my dad's junk after I segued from that list to images?)

TDS: The One With The Shelf

Last night, we were out at the local mall picking up a few items for the munchkin's birthday (specifically, gifts for my parents to give her since my father is the only one who drives in that relationship, and he's not interested in a mall trip under the best of circumstances, let alone surgical recovery) when we stopped at Laura Secord to check out their Easter chocolate offerings.


Crazy Life by Toad The Wet Sprocket
While we were there, the munchkin "discovered" a basket full of dark chocolate marshmallow bunnies - the perfect gift for the Easter Bunny. The only kind of chocolate that the Easter Bunny would like.

We explained that, in fact, the Easter Bunny does not eat chocolate, and would much prefer the apple she had already purchased for the rodent earlier this week.

This did not go over so well. The munchkin would not take no for an answer, and when it became clear to her that perseverance would not be rewarded in this instance, she literally went nuts. She, quite simply, lost her shit.

Oh, and now seems like a good time to mention that the basket? Was on a glass shelf.

Down came the shelf.

Out poured the wrapped bunnies.

Fortunately, the shelf did not break, and few bunnies were harmed.

We apologized profusely and took her out of the store, to a bench nearby. We talked to her and explained what she did was wrong. Then I returned to settle up the damages, and learned that she wasn't the first kid to do this (then why is that shelf still there if kids knock it all the time?) and that I didn't need to pay for any destroyed bunnies.

We then made the munchkin apologize to the store clerk herself, but that served little purpose as all three women in the store thought she was adorable in her contrition and smiled at her.

I think I was more bothered by this than MTM; at least I verbalized my issue more forcefully. It's not so much that I was embarrassed (although admittedly I was), but more that I know she is beyond that. I know that she can be reasoned with and can understand what she is doing and the repercussions of those actions. And when she appears to choose not to follow the right path, I find it frustrating.

My wife said that she's three (just about) and that these things happen. But I just feel differently. Maybe I'm expecting too much from her?

TWS: Self Defense As Taught By MTM

Today's post is literally a collection of mini-posts. Instead of lamenting the fact that it's just a bunch of crap that was too short to be called a post on its own, consider it a "mix post", sort of the blog version of a mix CD (or for those who still live in the 1980s, a mix tape).


Mixed Bizness by Beck
Last night, after watching some tv, I went to our "main floor" bathroom (I use quotes because technically it is five steps below our main floor, almost halfway into our basement). As I was finishing, MTM went down to the basement to put away some stuff. I followed, a few steps behind, to check the water softener. I assumed she heard me following her.

She didn't.

So when she turned to leave and I emerged from behind the furnace, she shouted, "Oooo!" (or was it "Woo!" I can't recall) and waved her hands in front of her like she was trying to shake off an insect.

"Well," I said, "At least we know how you'd defend yourself in the event someone broke in." And then I imitated her.

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SciFi GrandDad (note that the pseudonym SFGD does not suit my father, but calling him "Western Dad" or "James Bond Dad" sounds weird) was taken off his morphine yesterday, and was nowhere near as amiable as Monday. However, he was able to walk (while having locked arms with a male nurse) to the bathroom, and then get up from the toilet and walk back on his own power (with spotters, of course) so things are definitely improving. At this point they expect him to be discharged Thursday or Friday.

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This is what my daughter looked like last night:


I don't ask questions.

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I've got a new review up for the clek olli, a car booster seat available in a variety of styles and with an integrated LATCH system.

TDS: Tell Me A Story About When I Was A Baby

A few weeks ago, I wrote about how the munchkin wanted to hear a the story of how she went from a cradle in our bedroom to her current sleeping arrangement in her big girl bed. That quickly evolved into repeated requests for "stories from when she was a baby".


Big Bang Baby by Stone Temple Pilots
At first, the stories flowed easily. She was more than pleased to hear about the time she dunked her heel in her poopy diaper, or how she used to gnaw on my nose as an infant. But she became bored with the same set of cute anecdotes, and began to clarify her request, asking for "new stories about when she was a baby". Unfortunately, when not allowed to repeat, my collection of stories dwindled quickly. Eventually, I started making stories up, like this one:

One time, when you were a baby, you were in your crib and wanted some milk. So you cried, and you cried, but Mommy and Daddy told you it was time to sleep. So, you waited until Mommy and Daddy were asleep, and then you stole the keys to the van and drove yourself to the grocery store and bought some milk. You bought some sou-sous (pacifiers) too because you forgot yours in the crib.

And this one:

One time, when you were a baby, Mommy left the door to the liquor cabinet open, and you found a bottle of whiskey inside. You opened and drank some. Dude, you were so wasted! You ran around the front lawn with your diaper on your head!

The funniest part is that she genuinely believes that these things happened, and that she just doesn't remember them. I've tried to explain that I'm kidding, but she doesn't seem to get it.

Does this make me a bad father? What about if I told you that MTM and I laugh at her when we talk about it after she goes to bed?

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Thanks for all the kind words about my dad. As of last night, he was feeling better (although still on a morphine pump, so take that with a grain of salt). However, the big news is that he stood up yesterday. He was a little wobbly, but overall OK. He's also able to move his toes and stuff. Apparently, the doctors are surprised with his progress. Now we just need to wean him off the happy juice...

TRS: A Weekend Of Waiting

I mentioned on Friday that my father was admitted Thursday afternoon, and would have his surgery either Friday or Saturday. Unfortunately, once again, we were not given very accurate information.


I Can't Wait by The White Stripes
Friday 9:00am - I call my father's room and learn that he has been scheduled for surgery at 11am
Friday 10:30am - I receive a call from my mother informing me that 11am is not going to happen, and that they expect him to go in "sometime this (Friday) afternoon"
Friday 4:00pm - I call to see what the situation is, and learn that my father is scheduled to go in at 6pm
Friday 7:00pm - I receive a call telling me that my father's surgery has been postponed until Saturday morning
Saturday 10:00am - I call the hospital and learn that my father's surgery is scheduled for noon
Saturday 2:00pm - I call the hospital and learn that my father's surgery has been pushed back to 6:00pm
Saturday 8:00pm - I receive a call informing me that my father's surgery will not happen tonight (Saturday)
Sunday 9am - I call the hospital and learn that my father's surgery will happen around lunch
Sunday 2:00pm - I receive a call telling me his surgery won't happen until later today
Sunday 4:30pm - I call the hospital to learn that my father's surgery will start "within the hour"
Sunday 7:00pm - I receive a call telling me that my father has been taken to pre-op
Sunday 7:50pm - I receive a call telling me that my father is under anesthetic and the surgery has begun
Today 1:15am - I receive a text message telling me that my father is out of surgery, and has already told the doctor that he feels "different"

So basically that was my weekend, more or less.

We did other things, but between the stomach bug MTM was fighting and the cold the munchkin was struggling against, not much happened of note. On Saturday I got a new coat (pleather, which despite its feminine sounding name, is OK for men to wear... at least that's what the gay saleperson told me) that makes me very appealing to my wife (let us all agree not to ask the question, what did she think before the addition of pleather to my wardrobe?). And on Sunday we got a few things for the munchkin's birthday. (Aside: shopping for her was much easier before the advent of awareness and curiousity. Now it's a tactical mission where I flank off, hit a store, and dump my cargo in the van before returning to my girls for a barrage of questions not entirely unlike what I expect an interrogation from the Iraqi Republican Guard would be.)

Oh, and just so we're all clear: "Ready To Go" by Republica? Is actually called "Playing Dirt". I don't ask. I just report.

SFD: Pick The Lies - Results

First of all, a big Thank You to all who played yesterday.

Congratulations to mamatulip who was the first (and only) person to correctly identify all three lies. (She was also the first commenter of the day. For the record, the first guess of the day came from my wife, with 1, 4, and 5 being lies.)


Lies by Evanescence
Let's move along and look at the "facts" again:

1. I have incredibly good aim with a bow and arrow. I can hit a two inch diameter metal pole from 40 feet away, at dusk.

Status: FALSE
Most of you correctly guessed that this was false. However, interestingly enough, the anecdotal portion (hitting the pole at dusk) was true - about my father. He actually took my uncle's hunting bow and said, "The target is too big. I will hit that pole instead." And then he did.

2. My first encounter with the death of someone I knew was when I was eight years old and a boy (and playmate) who lived at the end of my street was murdered by his mother's boyfriend.

Status: TRUE
Two people thought this was false. The murder is actually "unsolved" because the cops could not prove it was the boyfriend.

3. I once lived in an apartment on top of a strip club adult entertainment establishment.

Status: TRUE
One reader (ironically, the one of only two male readers who commented) thought this was false. It was a co-op work term in Montreal, and my roommate was a modern dance major from Concordia. I swear I am not making this up.

4. When I was in my last year of high school, I was offered a "full ride" by a school in Texas based solely on my SAT scores.

Status: TRUE
This one fooled a few of you who assumed that as a Canadian I would not have written my SATs. In fact, I did have to write them as a requirement for a scholarship. As part of the SAT form I opted to release my scores (I assumed I had to in order to allow the company whose scholarship it was to see them), and a school in Texas contacted me. (As an aside, the scholarship I mentioned? Paid for my tuition for all four years.)

5. I once worked for a mine near Sudbury, Ontario. It was for a co-op job, and I was responsible for driving a lift truck around.

Status: FALSE
I thought this would trip up some people, and nobody thought this was false other than MTM and the eventual winner. I never worked in Sudbury.

6. I was kicked out of Novice IV level hockey (for eight and nine year olds) because I body checked a smaller, faster kid so hard I broke my stick in five pieces and he had to be removed on a stretcher.

Status: TRUE
Nearly everyone thought this was false. Apparently, I don't give off a "bone crusher" vibe. However, this is true.

7. When I was ten my family took a trip to Ottawa, but the hotel didn't have any cots, so I had to sleep in the bathtub.

Status: FALSE
This is the one even my wife didn't get. We did take a family trip to Ottawa, but in my life I have never slept in a bathtub.

8. I can name most of the characters from the late 1980s editions of Days Of Our Lives, Another World, and Santa Barbara. I can also explain plotlines, relationships, and repeat deaths.

Status: TRUE
A couple of you thought this was false. My mother used to tape all the NBC soaps while she was at work, then watch them on the only tv in the house. It was soaps or read a book; really, I had no choice.

9. I have been forcibly removed from The Body Shop, and somewhere there is a video to prove it.

Status: TRUE
Most of you got this one as true. I was in university, working on a scavenger hunt. My buddy dared me to go in and argue that The Body Shop should sell noseplugs for the boyfriends of their customers. Apparently, I argued a little aggressively.

10. When I was 15 my BIL took me to a bar on "open mike" or "jam" night. I played with the house band, and was given a voucher for a free (alcoholic) drink.

Status: TRUE
Everyone got this. Yep. My first paying gig was for a shot of Bailey's.

11. One time a Texas state trooper came home to find me receiving "attention" from his daughter while I sat in his favourite recliner.

Status: TRUE
A number of you got this wrong. It did, in fact, happen to me. Fortunately, the view from the door did not include the recliner, so by the time he entered the room, everything appeared normal.

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Statistically...

Easiest Truth: all of you believed I played in a bar at 15

Most Difficult Lie: only one of you (mamatulip) didn't believe my parents would make me sleep in a bathtub

If there are any truths above that you would like a more thorough treatment of, let me know in the comments and I'll see what I can do.

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My father was admitted into the hospital yesterday afternoon for pre-op. He will remain there and have the surgery this afternoon or tomorrow. Please keep him in your thoughts.

SFD: Pick The Lies

Today we're going to play a little game I've seen elsewhere that seemed to be appreciated by the readers (and I also enjoyed it). Below are a series of "facts". Three of them are false. The first person to correctly identify the three false ones will win a SciFi Dad mix CD.


Believe Me by Moist

1. I have incredibly good aim with a bow and arrow. I can hit a two inch diameter metal pole from 40 feet away, at dusk.
2. My first encounter with the death of someone I knew was when I was eight years old and a boy (and playmate) who lived at the end of my street was murdered by his mother's boyfriend.
3. I once lived in an apartment on top of a strip club adult entertainment establishment.
4. When I was in my last year of high school, I was offered a "full ride" by a school in Texas based solely on my SAT scores.
5. I once worked for a mine near Sudbury, Ontario. It was for a co-op job, and I was responsible for driving a lift truck around.
6. I was kicked out of Novice IV level hockey (for eight and nine year olds) because I body checked a smaller, faster kid so hard I broke my stick in five pieces and he had to be removed on a stretcher.
7. When I was ten my family took a trip to Ottawa, but the hotel didn't have any cots, so I had to sleep in the bathtub.
8. I can name most of the characters from the late 1980s editions of Days Of Our Lives, Another World, and Santa Barbara. I can also explain plotlines, relationships, and repeat deaths.
9. I have been forcibly removed from The Body Shop, and somewhere there is a video to prove it.
10. When I was 15 my BIL took me to a bar on "open mike" or "jam" night. I played with the house band, and was given a voucher for a free (alcoholic) drink.
11. One time a Texas state trooper came home to find me receiving "attention" from his daughter while I sat in his favourite recliner.

So there you have it. Three of them are false, and the others are all true. Please post your guesses in the comments so we can all mock you.

Update: my wife just emailed me her three "lies"; even she didn't get it right.

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Some of you have been asking about what happened with my father after the surgery was canceled. On Monday morning they called the surgeon (as instructed) only to learn that the office was closed for March Break. They were also told by the hospital that only emergency surgeries are done over March Break, so we assumed we were in for a long wait.

Then, last night at 10:30pm my mother called. They had just gotten off the phone with the (very apologetic) surgeon. My father will be admitted today or tomorrow morning, and the surgery will happen Friday or at the latest Saturday. Apparently, his original surgery was canceled because the O.R. nurses can only work so many hours (this policy is overridden in cases of emergency), and the hospital denied the surgeon access to the O.R. based on this policy.

TTS: Being Wronged

The Parent Blogger's Network provided me with a copy of the book Your Child's Strengths: Discover Them, Develop Them, Use Them by Jenifer Fox to review. Having read it, I would recommend it as a thought-provoking read for any parent or teacher.

The book is a well written amalgamation of explanations, anecdotes, and instructions and/or suggestions related to The Strengths Movement.

Continue reading at Reviews From The Dad Side

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Describe an incident where you or someone was wronged, in what would normally be considered outside of the social norms, and how you reacted, how you wish you reacted and what is possibly the best way to inform these idiots that they screwed up if that is even possible.


Nearly Lost You by Screaming Trees
It was my first job out of school. I spent the first five months working on various projects before I got "banished" to a plant support contract at an automotive manufacturer (due to someone else screwing something up on a project and me, since I was the low man on the totem pole, being the scape goat). The support job was supposed to last four months.

Seven months later I was returned to the consulting engineering office of my employer (the previous seven months having been spent in a high-pressure, profanity-laden, aggression-fueled work environment where the only means of survival was to become "one of them"). In my first year, I spent more time immersed in automotive culture than consulting engineering culture, and it showed in my day-to-day behaviour.

Instead of taking me aside or trying to work with me on the differences, I was called into a meeting with no time for preparation. I walked into an ambush: my supervisor, the VP, and the head of HR were across from me at a table. The message was simple: "Your behaviour is unacceptable. You make everyone uncomfortable. You don't respect anyone. You are a bad, bad employee. You are broken and need fixing."

I sat and listened in silence. When they were finished, I walked back to my cubicle, grabbed my stuff, and walked towards the door. On my way out, I said to my project manager (and friend), "They don't know how lucky they are that you are my PM right now." My supervisor went to my PM afterwards to bring him up to speed. My PM laughed and told him that the only reason he didn't have my resignation was because of my unwillingness to hang my PM out to dry.

Coincidentally, the following week was my annual review. The company policy was that the employee and the supervisor complete the same form and submit them to HR for review. The supervisor would then meet with the employee to discuss the usual review stuff (salary, expectations, et cetera).

The day after I submitted my review, the head of HR came to my cubicle and asked to speak with me. I followed her to the same boardroom where the "performance management session" (the ambush) happened the previous week. She wanted to discuss my self-evaluation with me, since I gave myself either "unsatisfactory" or "needs improvement" ratings in all categories (i.e. no "satisfactory", "excellent" or "outstanding").

After an hour of her asking me if that was how I really felt, and me indicating in the affirmative, and justifying the ratings with concrete examples from the ambush, I asked, "What do I have to say to make this meeting over?"

"Well, I want you to change your self-evaluation."

"OK. What do you want it to say?"

"No, no. I want you to want to change it."

"And what if I don't want to change it?"

"Then I will have to accept the evaluation as-is."

"Then I guess this meeting is over." And I walked out.

The next day my supervisor came to me and told me that he had expected my self-evaluation to be the way it was, and that he completely understood. He also wanted to explain that the head of HR went outside her area of responsibility in talking to me without him present, and apologized. I responded that I didn't care, so long as she didn't bug me again. From that moment on, my cubicle literally became an HR-free zone. No one from that department called me, came to me, or anything. It was all handled through my supervisor.

* * *
Looking back, the only thing I wish I would have done differently is to have asked the HR head something to the effect of, "What did you expect me to do after you spanked me in public?" or "You made your bed, now lie in it."

In an ideal situation, I would have stood up for myself in the initial session/ambush, pointing out that they put me in the environment, literally abandoned me there for seven months with no support from my colleagues (even in areas where I was unqualified; I taught myself more in those months because of their neglect than I did in all my years in school). I would have argued that I was a monster of their creation, and that they shared responsibility for what came about. And finally, I would have suggested that instead of a three-on-one ambush, a one-on-one discussion about the situation would have been far more effective.

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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.

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I also have a new Daditorial up, where I look at the recent member's bill for RESP tax credits.

TDS: An Office Visit

Today's song has absolutely nothing to do with the post. It's from a Canadian band that I haven't listened to in ages (think: early university) that I came across last night when searching for a song. I used to listen to this CD on a continuous loop back in the mid-1990s, and the songs evoke memories of a time long since past.


Silver by Moist
At 10am yesterday, the phone in my office rang.

"Good morning, SciFi Dad speaking."

"Hi hon." It was MTM. "What are you doing for lunch today?"

"Nothing. Why?"

"Well, the munchkin had an idea. She wanted to know if we could come to your office for lunch."

"Sure."

Laughter. "She's jumping up and down and clapping her hands. We'll see you around 11:30."

"OK."

* * *
When they arrived the munchkin ran into my office and quite literally lept into my arms, hugging and kissing me. While this isn't an unheard of occurrence, it is a rare one.

We settled in and ate lunch off each other's plates since what MTM had brought wasn't quite as appealing as what I had packed for lunch, at least not without sampling my meal as well. The munchkin beamed at me throughout the meal, asking little questions about my days at the office.

Afterwards, we took a little walk through the office to introduce her to one of the owners who expressed regret about having missed her last visit to the office. Admittedly, he is a warm and friendly man, but he was still a stranger to her, and I expected a little trepidation.

Instead, I watched her shake his hand, and have a conversation about the pictures of her on my wall ("They're all from when I was a little baby. I look different now.")

He asked her if she would come back and see him next time, and she said, "Sure."

Then, as we were leaving, another coworker came up and introduced herself to the munchkin. She smiled and made small talk with the woman as well.

Just a few months ago, she would have hidden behind MTM's legs and pleaded to go home in these sorts of situations. My little girl is growing up so quickly.

TRS: Winter Sucks

On Friday night, I called home en route to suggest that we hit the local video and grocery stores before the big storm hit. We grabbed a Dora DVD for the munchkin and a couple "grown up" flicks for the parents (that would be us): American Gangster (good, but wouldn't watch again) and Beowulf (enjoyable, and the animation was amazing). (Aside: I am an idiot. I suggested we hit Blockbuster at 4pm on the Friday before a) a snowstorm and b) March Break.) We grabbed some supplies and bunkered down.


Suck by Nine Inch Nails
I feel like this is how I spent my weekend^*:


Between Friday evening and Sunday morning, I attempted to have a coronary cleared the snow six times. No, seriously. During those times I also constructed a two-room snow house, complete with open-air atrium, foyer, and a fully enclosed room that my toddler could stand up in.

If you want a different perspective on how the weekend went, you can ask her:



When we weren't braving the elements, we were dressing in our father's clothes and watching Dora:


Sunday saw us make a break for the mall since we were all sick of each other ready to be committed to an institution eager for some time outside the house, where we saw The Easter Bunny:


Things went better than they did last year.

^* - I wanted to quote you some big-ass snowfall number for the weekend, but according to Environment Canada, the GTA got 15cm (6in) accumulation. My ass that's how much snow I cleared from my driveway. There was more than that Sunday morning for my final cleanup!

(For those non-weekend readers wondering how my father is doing, there is an update below.)

An Update

Thank you to everyone who posted their kind words and to those who had a good thought or prayed today. I was truly moved.

However, it would appear that you all need to use your powers more cautiously, because in your hopes that my father would be OK, you, well, you overdid it. After spending two hours waiting for surgery, plus another two in a hospital gown on a gurney, they canceled his surgery because of a lack of O.R. time available.

He sees the surgeon on Monday, when (we hope) he will get a new date (that isn't months from now).

Thanks again everyone. Please, in the future, use your powers for good, not evil, OK?


Someday by Nickelback

TTS: Have A Good Thought

As I've mentioned before, my father immigrated to Canada from Italy at the age of 25. He didn't know the language, he didn't have much money, and he didn't have a marketable skill (he was a farmer, which in Canada's climate, is not as valuable as it was back home). Whenever I think about that story, I can't help but think that my father was fearless for making that decision.

Today, however, my father is scared.


Rose Rosse by Massimo Ranieri
At 1pm, my father is having spinal surgery. He is 73 years old, and has never spent a night in the hospital unless you count the fact that my sister was born at 3:30am and he was there all night.

He's scared, and as much as I'd like to say that I'm not, I am scared too. There is a risk that he won't walk again, although according to the surgeon there is an equal or greater risk of that if he doesn't have the surgery.

If I wasn't an agnostic, I'd probably ask for people to pray; but since I'm an agnostic, I will say that if your beliefs entail that prayer is appropriate in this situation, then by all means do it if you are so inclined. Instead, I'll take the Sipowicz approach, and ask you to "have a good thought" for him this afternoon.

Update: see above; his surgery was canceled today.

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If you're looking for something less depressing, you can head over to my review blog, where I am writing about sharing something from my childhood with my daughter.

TDS: Just Like...

Most parents of young children await the so-called "language explosion" with excitement and anticipation. They see an end to the perpetual guessing games of "what does my baby mean with that cry?" or the ever-popular "crap, I know they are saying a word, but I'll be damned if I can figure out what that word is".


click click boom by Saliva

My daughter did not have a language explosion. My daughter had a language thermonuclear detonation. You see, an explosion has a definitive end to the general destruction. A thermonuclear detonation, on the other hand, has the big boom, followed by the lingering radiation that is just as destructive as the initial event.

She learned to talk early (multi-word sentences were coming at 18 months), and has.not.stopped ever since. Every night, from the time I come home until she falls asleep (usually long after she is put in her bed), I am treated to a steady torrent of words, literally. Questions, theories, narration, whatever; if it allows her to continue to fill the once beautiful silence, she will talk about it.

I see silence as something to be enjoyed. She sees it as something to be conquered.

I was trying to figure out why this seemed so familiar, why I have not been driven into some form of semi-comatose state by now. Then it hit me: her mother is the same way when she gets excited. My wife will come home from an evening out, and I will have long since gone to bed, and she will "accidentally" nudge me and begin to narrate her.entire.evening to me. And then she'll want to talk about the ideas she got while driving, or while talking to her girlfriends, or while reading a magazine three weeks ago because you know, since I'm already up, why not have a discussion the length of War And Peace?

The munchkin is a toddler. Toddlers live in a constant state of excitement because everything is shiny and new and fun and interesting. That's why she talks all the time! She gets this non-stop verbiage from her mother.

TTS: Freedom To Blog

What do you think about how courts, employers, and others use blogging against bloggers? Should courts be able to impose censorship on bloggers? Should employers be able to ban bloggers from blogging, or restrict it?


Freedom by Blues Traveler

Blogging, and many Web 2.0 technologies (i.e. social networking, online forums, folksonomy) in general depend on user-generated content. To be more specific, they are designed to be a means of starting and continuing discussion about an infinite variety of topics. People blog to express ideas, opinions, even just random thoughts about their day. They do so in an online forum to encourage interraction, to promote the exchange of information with their readers.

Anyone who has a blog has the right to post whatever they want to post. It is their forum, their place to write and/or vent and/or opine. They have the freedom to include anything they wish to include. In that way, they have complete freedom of speech. Neither the court, nor an employer should be able to censor them. (With a notable exception that an employer is well within their rights to restrict access to blogging from a company-owned computer, as the machine was purchased with the intention of work duties being performed on it, not blogging.)

However, bloggers are also subject to the same restrictions as the rest of the world. A person is free to write something on their blog, but if it defames someone else, it's libel. If they write bigoted statements, it's hate speech.

Freedom of speech is not freedom from the repercussions of that act, and I believe sometimes this gets confused in the process. The blogger alone is responsible for the words that reach the public eye.

The conundrum for me lies not in the free speech itself, for I personally adhere to the belief that while I may not agree with what you say I will fight for your right to say it, but rather in the legal interpretations of free speech. Each country has its own definition and laws surrounding the basic premise of free speech as laid out in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights. Some are more liberal, some are more restrictive. Which laws apply? If a blogger posts something from his or her computer located in Germany to a blog host owned by citizens of the United States, whose servers are located in India, what laws apply?

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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.

TDS: An Evening With The Munchkin

Last night, MTM had some errands to run that required no toddler (whose birthday, coincidentally, comes at the end of this month), leaving the munchkin and I to our own devices for the better part of the evening.

When we informed the munchkin of the situation, her first response was, "Yay! I get to watch tv instead of stories before bed!"

"Oh really?" asked MTM.

Crap. Crappity crap crap crap.


Caught Between by Screaming Trees

So, after MTM left, we started with a rousing game of "Sears", which rapidly degenerated (even further than the previous iterations, yet amazingly closer to the origins) into pile things on Daddy and call it "building" Sears. By the end of the session, the following items were piled on top of yours truly:

• five pillows
• one blanket
• ten musical instruments
• three books
• one pair of crocs
• one collapsed nylon tunnel
• two dolls
• one stuffed rabbit
• two baby bottles
• and one toddler

What was most impressive was the fact that none of it fell off.

After that, we settled in for some dinner, where we learned (yet again) that Daddy cooks the best meals known to munchkinkind. Last night's success was leftover prime rib dinner, wherein the munchkin ate no fewer than 20 (that's two-zero) baby carrot-sized pieces of carrot, half the meat I prepared, and mashed potatoes (that she usually says she doesn't like). Cue the Rocky music again.

We got ready for bed, and closed out the night with - you guessed it - the Backyardigans and their evil, shrill singing before Mommy came home to tuck her in.

It's amazing to think that just a few months ago, last night would have most certainly involved tears, and pleas for Mommy. Instead, I got a "I like spending time wiff you, Daddy" from her as she sat on the potty before getting ready for bed, a cuddle while we watched some tv, and a kiss goodnight (an increasingly rare occurrence these days, unfortunately).

TRS: Who's Ready To Learn?

The weekend was a blur. I remember playing Chutes and Ladders on Friday night. I remember Saturday involved sitting in line on Don Mills for what seemed like an eternity to get into the Ontario Science Centre, and chinese takeout. I think Sunday had something about Ikea, a haircut, and me making roast beef dinner. But that's about it. Thankfully, it seems I was able to take photos of the weekend.


She Blinded Me With Science by Thomas Dolby
(Oh, come on. Like you didn't see that one coming.)


the Wedgits seemed counterintuitive to her as she tried to stack the same sized squares on top of one another instead of making use of their interlocking nature

the music room was a hit for both munchkin and Mommy

seriously, how cool is the camouflage exhibit?

a little snuggle time for Mommy as they learned about electricity (I kept trying to feed her answers that were technically correct but over the kids' heads (like "How do we make electricity?" - "Using a magnet in motion to induce current!") but MTM kept kicking me)
One final note about the OSC. They have an IMAX theatre, and we thought that the munchkin would be old enough to sit through a 45 minute movie as opposed to a full-length animated feature. What we didn't figure was that the IMAX demo would scare the ever-loving crap out of her and that we would have to leave within minutes of the actual movie starting.


"Excuse me, but what does someone have to do to get some jöos around here?"

"Snip, snip goes Mommy."