Tales From The Dad Side: June 2008

Vacations

Some newer readers may not know this, but my father immigrated here (Canada) from Italy. He has a sister here (albeit in Quebec), but no other relatives in this country other than his wife and kids. Subsequently, every few years or so, he used to take a trip back home to visit with his brothers and sisters (and his mother, before she passed away).

However, I have never been to Italy.

When I was a kid, we rarely took any trips. Every summer we usually took a few days and went somewhere by car, either to a place in Ontario or sometimes to Quebec to visit my aunt and uncle. I was 16 before I flew in a plane, and that was for a high school band trip. I didn't ride a train until I went home from university for Christmas.

I'm not much of a traveler. My idea of a vacation is time off work in my own house, relaxing. Sleeping in other people's homes, much less hotels, is difficult and awkward. No matter how well I pack, I always feel like things would be easier if I was at home.

It's not that I don't want to travel to places. There are a bunch of countries I'd like to visit: Mexico (Mayan Ruins), Italy (relatives and Florence), Egypt (Pyramids), China (Great Wall), and Alaska (technically it's a state, but you get my drift) to name a few. I just wish, well, I just wish they weren't so far away. I wish they didn't require me to leave my comfort zone and pack up my stuff and fly somewhere.

Since the munchkin was born, we have taken a grand total of two trips: one when she was six months old to Vermont (friend's wedding) and last summer's "family vacation" (Santa's Village and shopping in Buffalo). This summer won't have any big trips because we're saving (both money and precious vacation days) for when the baby arrives.

Sometimes I wonder if my lack of enthusiasm for travel is because I never really experienced it much as a kid, if I would enjoy it more had my parents taken us to more places. And when I start thinking like that, I start to worry that I'm doing the same thing to my daughter (and eventually my son), discouraging them from experiences because I find them too overwhelming to endure myself. I don't want to hold them back, but I feel like I do.

The giveaway for the free Parking Pal is still running over at my review blog, so click on over and leave a comment for a chance to win. The contest will close after Canada Day (July 1).

There's also a post up at Babies Online. I have decided to share the story of our daughter's birth, and right now you can read Part One of the story. I believe that subsequent parts will be posted daily (there are eight in total), so check my author page there for updates throughout the weekend (if you're so inclined).

On Balance

Today is one of those days where I wish I had something like Really Bad Teenage Poetry (but, you know, actually liked by you guys) as a quick fix to writer's block. (I have, quite literally, volumes of the stuff. Seriously.)

Instead, you get verbal diarrhea.

Yesterday, I worked from home. I was supposed to be at a client's site, but the nature of the work changed and I was able to work off-site. So, since I wasn't expected to be at the office, I took the opportunity. Work has been busier than usual lately, and I have been forced to put in more hours, which means a) I have left MTM to parent solo more and b) I have been seeing less of the munchkin.

I've been pretty lucky with my job, save for a period of about six months while MTM and I were engaged and I was working 12 hours a day, six days a week. (But, it paid for the wedding of her dreams, or so she says, so it wasn't a complete loss.) I had control of my hours, not to mention my start time, to maximize my husband/dad time.

My biggest problem when it comes to this stuff ("this stuff" being work/home balance) is perspective. Since my wife is a SAHM, her balance sheet will always favour home. But, since we view marriage as an equal partnership, I feel like I'm not doing my share in the house no matter how much time I can get away from the office. So, when I have periods like this one (which, admittedly, are not interminable) I feel ten times worse than normal (which is already pretty badly) because I'm pulling even less weight at home. Hell, one day in the past week I came home and fell asleep in the chair while MTM bathed our daughter (after being with her all day). Then, I was barely conscious while the munchkin watched The Backyardigans in my lap before bed just so she could have some "Daddy Time".

Whenever I start to think about it, I start to panic. If I can't make it work with one kid at home, how badly am I going to feel when there are two of them? Sure, MTM is an amazing mother, and she has experience with large numbers of kids (she used to teach Kindergarten), but that doesn't mean it's right for me to leave her all day. And don't even get me started on the sensation that I am putting my job ahead of my family... that eats away at me every working minute past eight hours in a day.

So while yesterday was a nice diversion (I made breakfast for my girls, we got some "Daddy needs to help" errands done, MTM and I chilled and watched The O.C. while the munchkin napped, and I got to take apart our home computer after I screwed up the video card during a webcam installation - seriously), and it did make me feel a little bit better in the short term, it only crystalized my concerns. I suggested to MTM that I could work from home once a week (to get the munchkin used to me working from home so I could work while I was off when the baby comes... hello, irony!) and while I think she supported the idea (although I did sense a hint of "You mean you're going to be underfoot once a week?!?") I don't know if it's realistic considering the current trend.

Ultimately, I am no further ahead in my thinking than I was before yesterday's "correction". I still worry about finding time to give MTM a break, not to mention spending special time with the munchkin while she's still an only child. And I won't even go to the dark place where I have two kids needing my attention.

The giveaway for the free Parking Pal is still running over at my review blog, so click on over and leave a comment for a chance to win. (Come on, people... so far only one person has entered! If you're not interested in free stuff, please tell me in the comments here so I know not to accept giveaways for readers.)

Things Heard

For those calendar-challenged readers, today is Wednesday. You know what we haven't had around here on a Wednesday in a really (really, really) long time? Any guesses? Anyone? You there, in the back... what do you think? That's right! It's time for another Wifey Wednesday!

Before I begin, I feel like I need a preface to defend myself ("Oh boy, here we go" is what my wife just thought to herself.) I am not complaining here. I get that being pregnant is difficult and challenging, and that it presents a massive amount of changes to the woman. I get that. This post is done purely in jest (and maybe so some husbands, or even formerly or currently pregnant wives can say, "Been there, done that" too).

With that being said, after the baby is born...

I Will Not Miss Hearing My Wife Say

"Your feet stink. Go wash them." (Look, it's summer and I wear safety boots to work every day. It's stinky feet or missing toes. Take your pick.)
"The water tastes funny. Did you tell the people at the water place that the water tastes funny?" (Yes, I told them. Out of the hundreds of other people who get their water there, you're the only one who tastes something funny.)
"Don't press so hard." (You called me over to feel the baby. You told me to press so I can feel him. How am I supposed to know how hard to press?)
"I'm such a bad wife." (Yeah, gestating a man-child for us makes you such a slacker because some nights you don't have the energy to cook dinner.)

I Will Miss Hearing My Wife Say

"Come feel the baby." (Even if nine times out of ten he stops as soon as I put my hand on you.)
"We're having another baby!" (Yes, we are.)
"There's a party in my tummy!" (So yummy, so yummy.)
"Don't forget to kiss the baby before you go!" (How could I forget?)

I also have a new post up at Babies Online, where I'm asking the question How Much Information Does A Preschooler Need? (when it comes to "the birds and the bees", that is).

Writer Participation - Part 3

A huge thank you to everyone who asked me questions in my audience participation post. This is the final set of answers. (There are three sets here instead of two like my previous iterations since I got an odd number of sets.)

Today's song has nothing to do with the post. I just wanted to share it.

Mandy asked:

1. What do you think of scotch?
Hate it.
2. When did you last play golf?
Mini golf? On a date with MTM before we were engaged, so probably 2001. Never played real golf.
3. Minivan or SUV? Why?
Minivan. Better mileage and more cargo space.
4. What did you most regret doing as a child?
Not getting a job throughout high school. (In my defense, it was a combined decision... my parents opted to discourage me from working so I could drive my mother places and therefore free up my father.)
5. What's your favourite BBQ tip?
Turn often. Leaving it alone makes it taste more like it was baked, not grilled.
6. How would you spend your last day?
With a kilo of blow and a room full of hookers. Just kidding... I'd spend it with my wife and daughter.
7. Whom would you most like to have for dinner?
I don't eat people... oh wait! You meant as a guest?!? Then I'd say Bill Simmons from ESPN.com.

Sam asked:

1 - What did you think of the Mars expedition?
I thought the results were intriguing, and probably a little hard for the creationists to swallow.
2 - When did you last take an exam?
1998 - I took the Engineering Law and Engineering Ethics exams for my (surprise) Engineering license.
3 - Tea or Coffee? Why?
Coffee, because I prefer the taste.
4 - What did you want to be when you grew up?
At one point, a priest, until the whole no-sex thing became an issue (cough puberty cough). Then a cardiologist, until I realized I couldn't stand the sight of blood. Then a musician, until I learned my father would disown me.
5 - What's your favourite blog?
Oooh. Forcing me to center someone out, eh? Well, right now the one I enjoy the most (aside from my wife's, of course) is mamatulip.
6 - How would you like to be remembered?
As someone who didn't necessarily do what was good, but always did what was right.
7 - Whom would you most like to dress like?
If I had the body, Brad Pitt.

Finally, mamatulip asked:

1. What do you think of the gas prices?
Not sustainable in the long term, but definitely a pain in the ass right now.
2. When did you last cry?
When my dad went in for surgery.
3. Toilet paper: over the roll or under? Why?
Over, definitely, because under rollers are the devil's children.
4. What did you have for dinner last night?
Popcorn chicken and fries.
5. What's your favorite television show?
Lost.
6. How would you change the way you discipline your child?
I would try and not raise my voice at all (I don't yell often, but if I am exasperated, my volume tends to increase).
7. Whom would you most like to achieve in life?
Heh... whom would I like to "achieve"? (Assuming you mean someone I haven't achieved... otherwise the answer is, of course, my wife). Let's go with Jennifer Aniston.

I also have a Daditorial up today, looking at the case in Quebec where the court overruled a father's punishment.

Three Stories From The Weekend

To all the readers who noticed my absence from their blogs on Friday and the weekend: I was tied up with work Friday morning, and then spent the afternoon driving to my parents' place, where there is no internet (when my sister neglects to leave her cable modem at their place when she leaves town for the weekend). I will try and get to your blogs today sometime.

The story of this weekend is best told as a series of anecdotes.

The Ride
As I mentioned, on Friday afternoon, we drove to my parents' place. On our way into town, we passed by a marina.

"Oh munchkin, look at all the boats!" exclaimed MTM.

"Can we ride in them, Mommy?" the munchkin replied.

"Those aren't our boats, but maybe if we walk along the pier and act cute..."

"And if someone asks us if we want a ride, then it's OK, right?"

"Right."

"Uh, no, sweetheart, it's not OK," I chimed in. "It's never OK to get into a boat or a car or go anywhere with a stranger. It's not safe, and Daddy always wants you to be safe."

As opposed to your mother, who encourages you to get into motorized vehicles with strangers, I added under my breath.

The Loudspeaker
Saturday morning I took the munchkin to the mall. As we were entering, there was an announcement over the loudspeaker which I (as usual) ignored.

"What did that man say, Daddy?" she asked.

"I don't know munchkin. I wasn't listening."

Later on, another announcement came up, and again I ignored it. And again, she asked me what it said. And again, I was honest.

"Daddy?"

"Yes, munchkin?"

"Why don't you ever listen when people are talking?"

"I don't know sweetheart. Ask your mother. I'm sure she has an idea."

The Random Meeting
Sunday morning as we were driving back home, we stopped at a rest station so the munchkin and MTM could, well, rest. I remained in the van with my PSP. Suddenly, I heard my name called.

It was my friend Bec. She and her husband (who I learned reads this blog... hey Garth: why no comments?) were stopped to give their baby boy a bottle. It was too funny a coincidence, that I would meet her son for the first time at a highway rest station.

For those of you who don't read her, you really should. If nothing else, check out her birth story. Maybe if enough people comment she'll write more often.

The giveaway for the free Parking Pal is still running over at my review blog, so click on over and leave a comment for a chance to win.

Writer Participation - Part 2

Sooo... it looks like Really Bad Teenage Poetry was a flop (well maybe not a flop, but certainly not a resounding success). That's OK. I didn't expect it to be anything else. It had been on my list of posts to write for a while, so I wanted to put it out there.

Today's song has nothing to do with the post. I just heard it on the radio recently for the first time in ages, and wanted to share it.

Now, back to the answers.

A huge thank you to everyone who asked me questions in my audience participation post. I will take two sets at a time, in the order they were received, and post them together. (By the way, the asking phase is now over.)

Tara asked:

1. What do you think of Hulk?
Since you didn't specify whether you meant the Eric Bana movie, the new Ed Norton version, the comic itself, or the wrestler, I'll guess you mean the new movie. I haven't seen it, but the trailers look awesome. Plus, since Marvel is doing it (Universal did the Ang Lee/Eric Bana Shrek-Hulk fiasco) I'm optimistic.
2. When did you last change a nappy unaided?
Hmm... my daughter was potty trained shortly after her second birthday, so I'll guess it was sometime in April or May of 2007.
3. Star Wars old or Star Wars new? Why?
I like them both for different reasons. The old stuff is nostalgic for me, and brings me back to a different time in my life. The new ones explain the story Lucas wanted to tell.
4. What did you do last summer?
I get limited vacations, so we didn't do anything huge. We took a trip to Santa's Village in Bracebridge, and spent some time at my in-laws' cottage (although not too much since they were also living with us intermittently at that point, so when they were away I took the opportunity for time away from them).
5. What's your favorite 'children' moment?
Probably the first time my daughter spontaneously came up to me, climbed into my lap, said, "I love you, Daddy!" and then hugged and kissed me.
6. How would you tackle your daughter's first boyfriend. Not literally, obviously?
~~What do you mean not literally? I plan on knocking him to the ground.~~ I don't really know. What I do know is that I'm not concerned about it, since a good friend of mine once said, "Even though I know you wouldn't do anything to me, I still wouldn't want to date your daughter for fear of what you'd do to me." I just give off that impression.
7. Whom would you most like to be?
Huh. The easy answer is to just say myself, since if I wasn't me the things my life impacts would be so different (such as no mucnhkin). However, that wasn't the intent. If I had to pick one person, it would probably be George Lucas. He has an army of people waiting for him to say, "I have this idea - make it real!"

AndreAnna asked:

1) What do you honestly think of working mothers?
(I am going on the premise that by "working mothers" you meant mothers who work outside the home, since technically all mothers work.) I think working mothers are people. Who happen to be female. Who happen to have produced offspring. Who happen to be employed outside their home.
2) When did you last get drunk?
Actually drunk? Probably my stag in 2003.
3) Hot climate or cold?
Cold, but without snow.
4) What did you do last night?
I woke up, I went downtown... to look for a job. Hung around in front of the drugstore. (Bonus points for whoever gets that reference.)
5) What's your favorite TV show?
Lost.
6) How would you deal if your teenage daughter got pregnant?
Oy. I'd like to think I'd support her without any freak outs or lectures, but that's probably expecting too much from myself. I'd love her no matter what, but it'd be difficult.
7) Whom would you most like to punch in the nads?
Jeez... take your pick: George W. Bush, Stephen Harper, Dr. Phil, that guy who cut me off in traffic this morning...

I have a review up today, for a safety product called Parking Pal. It's a very simple and pretty cool product. I'm also giving one away to one random commenter (i.e. no quizzes this time, I promise).

I am also asking a question over at Babies Online: Are 3D Ultrasounds Worth It? If you have anything to contribute on the subject, please feel free to click over and comment.

Really Bad Teenage Poetry Vol. 1

I thought we all needed a break from the whole Q&A thing I've been doing the last couple of days.

Welcome to the first (and possibly only, depending on the feedback it generates) edition of "Really Bad Teenage Poetry". Before I became SciFi Dad, I was Angst-Ridden Teen Who Took Himself Too Seriously, and ART wrote poetry. Really, really bad poetry. That rhymed. And usually had a morbid message of sorts. Our first installment was penned in September of 1991. (I was 17.)

The Journey

As I walk the road
I pass a young child
Playing with his toy
His face is so mild

Next I see a boy
Reading by a tree
He gently looks up
But does not see me

Then I pass a youth
Troubled by the world
Sitting by his lonesome
Thinking of a girl

As my trip continues
The temperature does rise
And off into the distance
I hear a woman's cries

As I hurry to her
I go past a bed
Upon it is the youth
I fear he is dead

Next I pass the doctors
Gathered 'round the youth
They don't see the pills
They can't know the truth

Now I find the woman
The youth is her son
The whole family weeps
He was her only one

Now my trip has ended
At a place I know too well
The youth I passed was me
And now I go to Hell

Writer Participation - Part 1

A huge thank you to everyone who asked me questions in my audience participation post. I will take two sets at a time, in the order they were received, and post them together. (And yes, for those who have yet to ask, I will be continuing to take new questions for the next little while.)

(Since there was such an outcry about the U2 cover - ironic since it was the second cover of that song that I posted recently and the first posting got no negative feedback - I am using my favourite live version of the same song.)

MTM asked:

1. What do you think of redecorating/renovating houses?
Honestly, I hate it with the fire of a thousand suns. I despise having my life turned upside down, and both these activities do just that.
2. When did you last bake?
The last time I baked something was when I baked potatoes for twice baked potatoes for MTM's birthday. (It's her favourite, but something I am horrible at. It ended badly, with me having an anxiety attack and her finishing up the job. Thanks for bringing that up, sweetie! Love you too!)
3. Two or Three kids? Why?
From a completely selfish standpoint, I'd love as many kids as we can have. For me, it boils down to simple economics. I think our house could handle three kids, and I believe we could adjust our spending to accomodate a third.
4. What did you think of No Country for Old Men?
I thought it was interesting, although ultimately I don't think I "got" it.
5. What's your favorite colour?
Black.
6. How would you prepare your favourite dinner?
(You forgot Friday's dinner already?!?) I would grill a steak and serve it with a side of gnocchi with a little butter and parmesan cheese.
7. Whom would you most like to meet?
The writers for Lost, so I could lock them up and force them to answer all my questions.

Cass asked:

1. What do you think of peanut butter - is all natural the way to go or is Jiff the best?
Jif, no question. The all natural stuff is too oily.
2. When did you last catch yourself staring at another person?
At the mall this past weekend. She was a bit older than the munchkin and was so conflicted by seeing Dora; it was fascinating to watch her oscillate between uncertainty and excitement.
3. To blog or not to blog? Why?
A wonderfully vague question that deserves an equal answer: to blog, because to not blog increases the probability that it will be forgotten.
4. What did you wear on your 13th birthday?
How the hell am I supposed to remember that? Uh, it was June 1987, so I was probably in a t-shirt and shorts.
5. What's your favorite day of the week?
Saturday - no work, and everything's open.
6. How would you start a conversation with George Bush?
"So, what's your brother going to give you now?"
7. Whom would you most like to correct?
Dr. Phil. People do not need that much hate in their lives. (I find him to be a hurtful, hateful, bully of a man.)

Audience Participation Time!

Since I already have two posts for you to read today, and I have been struggling with post topics recently, I have decided to ~~steal~~ take inspiration from other bloggers and offer what I call a comment prompt.

(This is another cover that I really like. Again, it has nothing to do with the post; I just like the interpretation, and encourage everyone to give it a listen; I think you'll be surprised.)

Basically, how this works is you, the readers, each get to leave a comment of the following format:

1. What do you think of ________?
2. When did you last ________?
3. ________ or ________? Why?
4. What did you ________?
5. What's your favorite ________?
6. How would you ________?
7. Whom would you most like to ________?

(where, obviously, you fill in the blanks with whatever you feel like)

I will take the question sets, and then I will intermittently answer your questions every few days (I'm currently thinking every other day or every third day).

Sound like a fair deal? Good. Now ask me questions, please and thank you.

I have a new post at Babies Online: An Open Letter To Pregnant Couples.

I also have a new Daditorial up as well: White Supremacist Loses Then Regains Children.

Daddypalooza

Since Friday was my birthday (aside: thanks to everyone for your birthday wishes in the comments) and Sunday was Father's Day, this weekend was dubbed "Daddypalooza" (formerly Daddy's A Losah). Which meant that it was all about yours truly this weekend, in a roundabout way, at least.

As I mentioned on Friday, my girls came to my office for lunch. The munchkin had it all planned out, right down to the table setting:

pictured: macaroni and cheese from a box, not homemade, Curious George table cloth, Dora napkins, root beer to drink and (at MTM's insistence) fresh veggies
She brought me her gift: three Star Wars action figures for my collection (we opened all three so I could get the UPC symbols for a figure mail-in thing they have right now): two clone troopers and a McQuarrie Vader. She also (as mentioned on Friday) brought cupcakes for my coworkers, and quite proudly handed them out to people at their desks.

My birthday dinner (grilled steak and leftover KD - MTM made too much to justify making another side dish) was followed by more presents (some DVDs and a few PSP games including the incredibly awesome Lego Indiana Jones) and then a bath with my little girl before tucking her into bed and settling in for a movie (No Country For Old Men - thanks Ali) with MTM.

Saturday morning's plans (originally the zoo) were adjusted due to the threat of rain. Fortunately, I spotted an announcement in our local flyers:

yes, that is who you think it is
Dora was at our mall. How could we miss that?

After the mall, a lunch at McDonald's (munchkin's choice) and an afternoon nap followed. We had some time to kill before dinner, so we hit Costco (I rarely get to go, so it was at my suggestion) before going out to a new Tex-Mex place that opened up in town (with hopes of finding an alternative to Lone Star that was closer to our house). Unfortunately, dinner turned out feeling a lot like cheating on a girlfriend, except that midway through the date you find out that the person you're cheating with is a transvestite. The rice and beans were cold, the steak was burned, the nachos were stale and we got half of what we would have at Lone Star for the same price. I told MTM we would have to "come clean" with the hostess at Lone Star the next time we went there.

Happy belated Father's Day to all the dads out there. I hope your weekend brought you as much joy as mine did.

Sunday morning, we got up and there were more gifts, including this:

a homemade "I love Daddy" shirt

We went to a local park for an artisan's festival (as I put it to the munchkin, "not the good kind of festival") before coming home for lunch and a nap. After the nap, I looked at the lawn (that was mid-calf in length), the tree out front (that had a branch that was nearly touching the tall grass), and the sky (threatening rain) and concluded that I would do yard work (completely of my own volition).

Now, some of you may be looking at this post and thinking, Dora? Artisan festival? Yard work? What the hell kind of Daddypalooza is that? I will explain: MTM was feeling particularly pregnant this weekend. She was exhausted and generally felt under the weather from Friday to Sunday. So, big adventures like the zoo or an amusement park or whatever would only have exacerbated the problem. I have said before that I am a man of simple needs, and one of those is seeing my girls happy. So, I got pleasure from the look on my kid's face as she high-fived Dora, and my wife's enjoyment of all the ~~crap~~ items at the festival. The yard work? As I said to my neighbour: it wasn't going to do itself, and I knew I had a heavy work week (aside: forgive my absence on your blogs today) so I just did it.

The Birth

Today is my birthday. For something a little different, I thought I would share the story of my birth. This story is 100% true. Those of who you are easily shocked, may choose to just skip over this post, as it isn't exactly the best example of "doing what's best for baby" from either of my parents. Ultimately, it turned out reasonably OK (i.e. I'm alive and here to tell the tale - take that as good or bad).

(This song was #1 on the Billboard charts for the week I was born.)

On Thursday, May 30, 1974, my mother (then nine months pregnant with yours truly) went for a prenatal appointment with her OB. He did his assessment, and said, "Go home and pack your bags. Your blood pressure is too high, and I'm worried about you and the baby. I'm admitting you today."

My mother pleaded through tears, "But Saturday is my sister's wedding! I can't miss that."

"Fine. Come in Sunday."

"But my whole family is in town," she said between sobs.

"OK. Monday then."

So on Saturday (June 1) my parents went to my aunt's wedding. And my father drank. A lot. He drank, and my mother (who cannot drive) was nine months pregnant in the passenger seat as he drove home on the sidewalk. He was so wasted he puked in bed, and when my mother went to get out of bed after the incident, he forcefully grabbed her arm and made her stay in the bed until the morning.

Monday morning (June 3) she was admitted with even higher blood pressure. Eight days later (June 11 - her due date), she was told that if she didn't have the baby soon, the doctor was "taking it" (i.e. c-section... nice bedside manner, eh?) because the blood pressure problem was worsening.

On June 13, 1974, they induced her (details as to why they would induce instead of a c-section have never been explained), and at 7:20pm that evening, SciFi Dad was born.

She delayed her discharge by attempting to go to the hospital gift shop on the morning of the Sunday after I was born (Father's Day) to buy my father a present. Her blood pressure and other conditions were so poor by this point that she was not discharged until a week later, June 20, 1974.

In other, more humourous news, I have learned from my wife that my daughter has insisted that they bring cupcakes with them today when they come for lunch. This itself is fine; however, she is bringing enough for me to "share with my friends at work". Apparently I'm the only 34 year old in kindergarten now.

I also have a new post up at Babies Online, where I ask the question, Who Is Father's Day About?

CPC Revisited

A couple of weeks ago, I mentioned that the results of our second ultrasound showed choroid plexus cysts (CPC), and that we had a follow-up ultrasound scheduled for June 11. Well, for those calendar-challenged readers, yesterday was June 11.

We went back to the lab where we got the first ultrasound done because the technician at the last place was, well, more than a little odd. They also charged us for low-quality scans of the ultrasound, and were pretty rude to MTM as well. That meant that while MTM was more comfortable, the technicians were not 100% clear where exactly to look for the cysts. (What? Like a fetus' head is that big?)

However, we did receive (arguably) 100% confirmation that the child is, in fact, a boy:

let the record show that it was MTM who asked for the arrow highlighting my son's junk
I was in the waiting room with the munchkin for the first hour (no seriously - every ultrasound thus far has taken an hour to complete because the baby has been so active that they cannot properly measure him), so I am depending on MTM's reports for this. However, the technicians spent a lot of time searching for CPC, and came up empty. So, while they cannot make any guarantees (especially since they are not doctors), from everything they saw the baby is OK. He is also measuring "within range" (i.e. MTM was 23 weeks, 1 day and his measurements were averaged to 23 weeks, 4 days).

So, we're back on the happy train, at least in theory. (Me? I'm still in the cautiously optimistic stage, and fear that I will remain here until the boy graduates high school.) We have a normal, healthy, pretty much 100% confirmed male, baby:

who is apparently quite flexible (head on left, nose nearly touching knees; at least that's what we think)

For those who are interested, the contest results are in. Thanks to everyone who entered.

Keyword Madness VII

Regular readers know that every couple months I ~~get writer's block~~ ~~cop out on writing a real post~~ go through my Google Analytics archives and collect some of the weirder keyword hits (and believe me; this site gets all the crazies). Today is another one of those times.

As always, these are unedited search strings that brought people to this site.

dumb as dirt kathie lee today
tell me about it

home depot on a saturday
just.say.no.

munchkin soup recipe
we do not eat the munchkin, thankyouverymuch

nighties for all
hooray!

alien baby in bangkok
seriously?

benefits of raising headboard
uhm, it looks taller? I got nothing, sorry.

commute time to myself vancouver
sorry, only people in Toronto get commute time to themselves... people in Vancouver have to ride with someone jabbering in their ear the whole way; hey, don't look at me, I don't make the rules

dad's bedtime tales volume 6
sorry, only volumes 1-5 are available

hair cut bald
interesting… how does one cut the hair of a bald person?

how much money does dooce make
how much money does kathy lee make on the today show
I wish I knew the answer to either

people who have dealt with gossip reallife
a more interesting search would be for someone who hadn't dealt with gossip in real life

dad makes me have a short back and sides haircuts
then stop going to the barber with your dad

pregnant father first trimester
dude, I'll take any trimester of that one

pretty eight letter words
alluring? handsome? graceful?

the original lady holding umbrella with daughter holding a doll at restaurant painting
you know what you need? a more specific search term.

tortilla chip stuck in toddler's throat
what the hell are you doing googling this?!? get it out!

tv spot where dad abuses mother for getting pizza for dinner while kid watches through staircase railing
uhm, OK.

wife pees her knickers after drinking a lot
thanks for sharing

multi-tasking mommy + sci-fi dad + how we met
click here, then here, then here; you're welcome.

I wanted to take a second to thank everyone who comments on my posts over at Babies Online. I've taken to putting up my "what do you think" kinds of posts there, since that suits the site best, and you guys have really come through for me. I appreciate you taking the extra time to click over to a different site, and offer your opinions. You guys are the best readers ever.

Thanks to everyone who has entered the contest. If you haven't already, you can enter until 10pm EDT tonight: click over to my review blog and enter my contest for a chance to win one of two sets of 11 books.

Who's Got Style?

On Saturday, I climbed the stairs when I heard MTM finish her shower (as it was my turn). When I got up there I discovered the munchkin had dressed herself: emerald green socks (OK), forest/mint green, brown, and orange plaid shorts (meh...) and a white shirt with fuschia, teal and lime green stripes (ack!).

"Uh, did you see what she's wearing?" I asked my wife.

"Yep."

"Did you say anything?"

"Several times. She wouldn't listen. But you can try."

"OK," I said, and then turned to my daughter, "Munchkin?"

"Yes Daddy?"

"You know how some shirts are plain, and have nothing on them, just one colour?"

"Mmm hmm."

"Those are called solids."

"OK."

"And you see your shirt, and your shorts?"

"Yes. Don't I look adorable Daddy?"

"Well, uh, yes sweetheart, you're always adorable. But when you wear two different patterns, it doesn't look as nice. A good rule is to use one pattern, and one solid."

"Oh. OK. Let's go in my room and choose a different shirt, Daddy."

We went into her room, and she pulled out her shirts one at a time, asking, "Is this one OK Daddy?" until we found a good match.

She then went into the bedroom and said to MTM, "Look Mommy! Daddy helped me pick a shirt. Now I look adorable!"

That's right, people. Even the munchkin knows SciFi Dad has more fashion sense than MTM; enough to be a gay man.

I have a new Babies Online post up today, where I ask for your opinions on Toys For Boys. Specifically, toys that either directly or indirectly involve weapons and/or violence.

About the contest: I noticed very few people have entered so far, and I'm wondering why. If you don't want to enter, and are willing to share why, please send me an email (talesfromthedadside aht gee male dawt com). For those who haven't yet: click over to my review blog and enter my contest for a chance to win one of two sets of 11 books.

HAHT

Today's post is going to be a little on the brief side, so that I can redirect you somewhere else.

Remember on Friday I told you about some fabulous prizes? Well, today marks the beginning of the contest. That's right: click over to my review blog and enter my contest for a chance to win one of two sets of 11 books.

No, nothing happened on Sunday. I just liked this cover and wanted to share it.

This weekend was haht (misspelling used to indicate pronunciation). (How hot was it?) It was so haht that by the time we had walked our neighbourhood on Saturday morning ~~looking at the garbage other people wanted to get rid of and considering whether or not to add it to our ever-growing collection of crap~~ browsing garage sales, my shirt was already soaked.

And we hadn't even made it to the parade yet:

Parade? Why yes, parade. Because last weekend's festival wasn't enough, we went to yet another one this weekend. In sweltering heat. One of us, without sunscreen. (I don't burn, I just darken.) It was fun, if a little bit haht. The munchkin got ice cream, and old fashioned soda pop, and cotton candy, and free sunscreen because MTM was foolish enough to listen to me when deciding whether or not to bring extra sunscreen. (Thank goodness for thoughtful parents.)

We came home, and MTM decided to clean out the liquor cabinet:

Those would be wine bottle stoppers. We had more than enough, especially considering the fact that MTM is now pregnant and has reduced her alcohol consumption to three bottles per day. (I kid. A little.)

On Sunday we did a few errands (read: we hit the mall and Mastermind), and came home to play in our brand-new ~~leaky and probably going to be returned~~ Dora sprinkler:

All in all, a fun weekend. What did you do?

I have another post up at Babies Online. This one is a bit of a rant: Fathers Are Parents Too.

And don't forget: click over to my review blog and enter my contest for a chance to win one of two sets of 11 books.

All That Matters

A couple of nights ago, after bath time, I laid down on the floor of my daughter's bedroom and (don't say it) I (stop now or you'll lose them all forever) played (I'm warning you, this will not end well) with (last chance dude, save yourself!) a doll house. (That's it. I'm outta here.) Admittedly, I spent most of the time either stacking all the large pieces of furniture into towers or putting random dolls on the toilet (or passed out in the bathtub), but the cold hard fact is that I played with a doll house last night.

How did I end up here? Oh right! I ~~got married, gave up all semblance of freedom, and spawned offspring~~ became a Dad.

Sitting there, randomly posing three inch wooden people with yarn hair and more fashionable clothes than I wear, I thought about all the things I do now that would have horrified me years ago.

I sing Christmas carols, in the middle of May, in public, where my neighbours can hear me. I will feed a plastic baby a plastic bottle. I will also burp said baby, change its diaper, and place it in a stroller (or crib, depending on my instructions). I read the same book over and over ~~and over and over and over~~ and suppress the urge to drive an ice pick into my ear. I listen to folky irritating children's music for hours on end in a closed vehicle. I eat wet Cheerios (and they're not wet from milk). I drink juice with backwash that is not my own. I watch children's television without the aid of mind-altering substances (come on, my university residence wasn't the only one to get drunk or stoned and then watch TVO kids, right?) I clean up someone else's vomit.

But the thing is, I don't complain about it ~~except for the smell of the vomit... how can someone so little make such a horrid smell? I mean, seriously... is there anything worse smelling than toddler puke?~~ And truth be told, I kind of like it (quick... you just admitted you liked playing with a doll house), even playing with the doll house (nice one) because it makes my kid happy, just like watching me ~~humiliate myself~~ take care of her dolly, or sharing partially consumed food.

In the end, that's all that matters.

I've got a little teaser up at my review blog about a contest I'll be running next week. If you're interested, you can check out the prizes today. Let me know what you think of them.

Wings Win!

Last night, the Detroit Red Wings won the Stanley Cup. At the risk of being forced to turn in my man card, I will admit that instead of watching the entire game, buzzer to buzzer, I watched The OC on DVD with my wife. I have not been interested in watching an entire hockey game for years, but that doesn't mean I'm not keen to know when my team wins the big game.

The Winner - The Crystal Method
Watching them hoist The Cup last night brought back a flood of memories from my childhood. As a kid, I used to watch hockey games with my Dad. When my bedtime came, I'd head off, with a promise that if something "big" happened, he'd wake me up so I could watch it.

I watched the 1983 Islanders lift The Cup while a dismayed Wayne Gretzky stood by watching enviously through sleepy eyes and was barely able to remember the event the next morning. I watched the following year when Gretzky got his turn over those same Islanders too. Both times I sat there on the couch, in my father's arms, fading in and out. But I got to see.

(photo credit: Mandi Wright, Detroit Free Press)
I started to think about future playoffs, when I will have a son (who will be too young for the next few years to express an interest in the game). I thought about that opportunity to wake him up and carry him in his pajamas downstairs to enjoy the final minutes of the game and the exhilaration of the team as they flood the ice and mob the goalie. I remembered how it took until I was in university before the Wings won a Cup in my lifetime, and hoped that my son (who will be indoctrinated into the love of the Wings) would not have to wait as long.

But mostly, I just thought about the amazing opportunity I'm being given: this boy, this wonderful little boy who I haven't met yet, and how he and I will be not just father and son, but hopefully buddies as well.

I also have a new post up at Babies Online, about a recent study that found that preschoolers in home care need more physical activity.

Getting To Sleep

Yes, this is the second day in a row that I am writing with the intention of seeking advice from you. (Thanks, by the way, for all the comments yesterday; they were helpful.) No, this is not "the new Tales style" - I promise that tomorrow's post will not involve me asking your opinion (although, as always, you are more than welcome to share it in the comments).

As an aside, I strongly encourage all of you (well, OK mostly the female readers, who make up the larger portion of my readership) to listen to today's song. It is atypical of the music selections I usually post here. Yes, sweetheart, that means you too.

Nearly every night, we have the same routine: dinner, some play time either inside or outside, a bath, some stories and/or a television show, and some cuddles in bed before saying good night to the munchkin. Unfortunately, the routine doesn't end there.

"Mommy! I need a sweater. It's cold."

"You can get up and get your own sweater, sweetheart."

"No! I'm too sleepy. I can't do it."

"Yes you can, munchkin. You can do it."

Cue uncontrollable wailing and sobbing.

Some nights we put the sweater on before the cuddles:

"Daddy! I need to lie on my other side."

"OK munchkin. Go ahead."

"But my friends are in my way."

"So move them to the other side."

"I can't. They're too heavy."

Cue sounds of extreme physical exertion, followed by uncontrollable wailing and sobbing.

Other nights, it's:

"Mommy! Pee pee is coming."

"OK sweetie, Daddy will come."

After two seconds on the toilet: "Nope. No pee pee. Daddy, can you scratch my back before you go downstairs?"

First of all, please tell me we're not the only ones with this problem. I mean, no matter how much preparation we put into settling her in her bed, no matter how many times we ask her if she's OK before we both go downstairs, there's always an excuse. And when we tell her no, it's a full-scale meltdown, complete with shrieks even the most aged banshee would be proud of. Honestly, it's starting to get on my nerves. We need her to understand that when she goes to bed, she's in bed.

Now, I know some of you will say that we're giving in by going up after she freaks out, but the reality is we have tried to let her cry, but it only escalates to the point where the neighbours are agitated by the sounds (she insists on having her window open). She will hold on to the meltdown for an inordinate amount of time, so we can't just let her wail. (Or can we?)

What say you, internets?

Oh Yes She Did

Those of you who have been reading this blog for a while know that my daughter is, well, precocious. She's three, yet she is often mistaken for four or five because of her speech development combined with her height. And it's not just her speech that throws people off. She's quite bright, and puts things together rather quickly.

"Mommy?"

"Yes Munchkin?"

"Did you swallow me?"

"What? No, sweetheart, I didn't swallow you."

"Then how did I get in your tummy?"

Oh yes she did just ask that question.

For a quick explanation, MTM explained that no, she did not swallow the munchkin, but that Mommy and Daddy loved each other and decided to have a baby (if only it had been that simple the second time around).

Of course, this will only hold our bundle of curiosity content for mere moments, so we need a more thorough answer. We can't see us explaining the complete details, yet we anticipate the "But how?" sequence of questioning to send us down that seemingly inevitable path.

Therefore, I come to you, dear readers, for your opinions and experiences with this delicate matter. How much detail can we tell a three year old? How did you handle this with your kids, or do you expect to handle it when the time comes? We're desperate here, people. I have no interest in my daughter knowing just how she came into being, at least not until she's thirty (OK, make it 29).

And once you're done giving your advice here, you can head over and read my latest Daditorial, where I look at sexual predators.

Finally, I have a reminder for one loyal reader: Lego Indiana Jones comes out today... it would make a great gift, say for a birthday, or Father's Day... you know, just saying...

Rainbows and Bootie Shorts

So, it's Monday again, which means it's time for another one of my Monday Morning Weekend Recaps That Occasionally Come On Tuesdays When It's A Long Weekend. I know that you are all eagerly anticipating the blow by blow detailing of my ~~mundane~~ life in suburbia, and I loathe to disappoint you, so without further introduction, away we go! (As an aside, does anyone know the html tag for sarcasm?)

Saturday morning we were supposed to attend our last library music class of the spring session (and also our last class with this teacher, since she is leaving and a new one will take up the class in the fall). Unfortunately, after 15 minutes of waiting, we learned that the teacher had, well, forgot the class and wasn't coming. Since our choices were a makeup class (as in, a replacement class on another date, not an actual class in applying makeup, not that there's anything wrong with that) on a day we were already booked and a refund, we chose the latter and I promised the munchkin we could use it to buy something.

We came home, changed (damn it got hot real fast on Saturday), grabbed MTM and hit the mall, where I returned my Docs that arrived in the mail (they were OK, but should have fit better if they were going to cost me over $100) and the munchkin got Linney from the Wonder Pets.

While the munchkin and MTM napped, I watched a movie (Evan Almighty) on VOD. As it was finishing up, the munchkin came downstairs. Since it was rated G, I saw no issue with letting her finish it out with me. As my wife descended the stairs, the following exchange occurred:

"Mommy! I get to watch Daddy's movie like a big girl!" the munchkin said.

"Oh really? Is that a safe movie, Daddy?" Mommy replied.

"Yes, Mommy. There's a big boat, and there's lots of animals inside. It's pretty silly," I answered.

"And Santa's there too!" added the munchkin.

Later on in the film, the Almighty appears on screen.

"Who's that, Daddy?"

Seeing as how we haven't baptized her and I'm an agnostic (more details are available on this subject for those interested parties), answering this was, well, interesting.

"Uh, that's Morgan Freeman. He's a very nice man who helps people."

"Oh, OK. I like Morgan Freeman."

"Mommy and Daddy do too, munchkin. He's our favourite actor," added MTM.

Tales From The Dad Side: come for the anecdotes, stay for the sacrilege.

Saturday night my sister was in town, so we had dinner with her and her friends (one of whom was someone from our "old neighbourhood" back home... someone I used to drive to school when we were kids). It was nice to catch up a little. We arrived home to this:

(apologies for the quality; it's my camera phone)
It was easily the most clear, complete and largest rainbow either MTM or I had ever seen. It was pretty cool to just stand in the middle of our street and see it.

That evening, MTM and I watched The Bothersome Man, a subtitled Icelandic film. While I really wanted to like this movie, I found it rather unfulfilling and generally left me underwhelmed. To paraphrase myself, two hours of watching a man scratch his nuts would have been more interesting than this film.

Sunday we went to a street festival in a nearby town. It was, shall we say, interesting. While there were some of the traditional street festival type offerings (a chip wagon that made actual potato chips and not french fries, a bunch of forgettable folk art ~~crap~~ that my MIL would love, fresh lemonade, a bunch of overpriced "hand made" jewelery and hats, and about seventy million public interest or service groups) there were also no fewer than ten purveyors of a "potato gun" that was essentially a hand-operated pea shooter for potato nubs. Oh, and this:

nothing but class, people; nothing but class
Sunday night, I let MTM pick a movie to make up for my selection from Saturday. She chose The Nanny Diaries, which was admittedly better (but not much) than Saturday's offering. However, I probably got myself into a bit of trouble when I was heard to mutter, "There are worse things to find upon opening an elevator," at the scene where Scarlett Johansson is bent over in the hallway with her panties showing.