A long time ago, I wrote about my upbringing. (As an aside, that link is to a very old post from September 2006. For those who want to learn more about me, that's a pretty good post to read, or re-read, as the case may be.)
Without repeating too much in this space: I am not the typical spouse of a SAHM. I can cook (real food, not just packaged junk). I can do my own laundry (including folding and ironing it). I can clean a house properly (even bathrooms). I just don't do as much of that stuff anymore now that MTM stays home.
My initial plan was to maintain some semblance of balance between us, but (and my recollection of the events may be coloured by time, but I'm sure if I'm wrong my wife will correct me) I was quickly told to leave most of it to her, by her, because she felt guilty having me do it. (This was, of course, after she recovered from the c-section delivery of our daughter.)
Therefore, my skills have degraded because of lack of use. For example, while I was alone last week, I did some laundry. However, since I last did laundry in our house we have replaced the washer, so I was a little uneasy about goofing with a new interface. I actually called my wife a couple of times (once for a quick tutorial, another for a "what temperature do you use?" question) for direction.
When we were living in our basement apartment, I did all the laundry! When we moved into the house, we both did laundry. Now, five years later, I can't wash my own gitch?
I didn't even know where half of the cleaning products were either. And the ones I could find were all different because apparently Mr. Clean and Lysol are evil tools of the dark lord or something, having been replaced with products that are eco-friendly or organic or made from distilled kitten tears. So, I guessed. I think I used bio-degradable window cleaner to get the marks off the toilet. (Whatever. It worked.)
Bottom line, I am not the man I was before my wife stayed home. Things that were second nature have become foreign and frightening. Am I the only one? Are there other people who have watched their skills wither away to nothing because their spouse took over certain jobs?
I lay there, my eyes still closed in pretend to be asleep while playing mode. I was unsure what to say. I knew I needed to say something, but I also knew that recently my fuse had been a little short, and my instinctive reactions overly harsh.
"What?" I blurted.
"I said, 'You're my Daddy. You're a nice Daddy'," she replied.
"No, that's not what you said. What did you say?"
"I said, 'You're not a nice Daddy'."
Damnit. I cannot believe she just said that. But, I should not lose my cool, and maybe I'm not even supposed to punish her for this. My gut says yes, but my gut has failed me lately.
"Hon? Can you come down here please?" I called to my wife. At this point, my daughter began to sob uncontrollably.
I told her the story, and waited for her lead.
"Munchkin, did you say that because Daddy wasn't playing with you?"
"Yes Mommy," she replied in between sobs.
"And did you mean that Daddy wasn't being nice?"
"Yes Mommy."
"But she lied to me when I questioned her!" I protested.
"She changed what she said. She wasn't lying, she was doing what we have conditioned her to do. When she says something wrong, we say, 'What?' or 'Pardon me?' and expect her to change her tune."
I remained on the floor in stunned silence. I was ready to send her straight to bed, no bath, no nothing. I thought it was that egregious an offense. What the hell was I thinking?
Was I just tired, or was it something more, something deeper than that? Am I failing as a parent now that she's older and has a mind of her own? I had always worried that once she developed her own opinions and was willing to challenge me that I would find parenting a lot more trying, and that in turn I would find myself lacking. Now, it would seem, my fears are being realized. Just this week I have already handed out threats so ludicrous that I cannot possibly follow through on them. My instinct seems to be to grab the sledgehammer to swat the fly.
I can make excuses for myself: work has been rough, I didn't sleep well the night before, I'm still feeling off since the infection in my leg (which has cleared up). But the fact is that what I've been thinking, and in some cases saying, is inexcusable. Instead of forging a closer bond with my daughter in the waning months of this pregnancy to better prepare our relationship for the change that it will undergo once the new baby arrives, I seem to be pushing her away.
I am writing this post as a sort of social experiment. I have no doubt that the majority of readers on this site are women, however there are a select number of men who read and occasionally comment here. It is my belief that by humiliating myself in the following manner will prompt merciless taunting from other dad bloggers, and that for once I will have more males than females comment here.
Last week, as I was making my way to BFF, my nose began to itch. So, I started to scratch it. I felt the side of my nose and thought, Dude, that's not an itch! That's skin peeling off! And because I have a bizarre thing with stuff that can be removed from my face (I have to consciously stop myself from pulling out all the hairs on my eyebrows) I picked at it and peeled off tons of dead skin on both sides of my nose.
Then I looked down at my dark green shirt.
Fuck. Now I look like I have the nastiest case of dandruff. And I'm going to meet a bunch of people for the first time. Niiice.
So I brushed off my shirt and spent the rest of the day consciously trying to not touch my nose.
I repeated the exercise a couple more times over the week that I was alone, and then on Saturday (our anniversary, while on our date) MTM said to me, "Weird. Your nose is doing that peeling thing it did on our wedding day. You need to take care of it."
"Like what? I'm peeling it all the time!" I replied.
"No, you need cream on it."
"I tried using aftershave cream. It didn't work."
"No, you need my cream."
So, instead of drawing this story out any longer, I'll just say this: My name is SciFi Dad, and I use moisturizer. Women's moisturizer. On my face.
On Friday afternoon, they pulled into the driveway. I was waiting out there because MTM had called as they got off the highway. I hugged and kissed my wife. As I opened the sliding door, I found a smiling munchkin, with arms outstretched, pleading with me to free her from the confines of her car seat. I unbuckled her and lifted her into my arms. She wrapped her arms as far around me as they could go, and squeezed as tightly as she could.
My girls were home. We were a family once more.
After unloading the van, I returned to the task I abandoned when I got MTM's call, namely preparing dinner. I had told her Thursday night that I had dinner covered. I made braciola, with risoto and broccoli, and cherry cheesecake (store bought; I am a cook, not a baker) for dessert.
As I flitted about the kitchen, intermittently jumping outside to tend to the barbecue, the munchkin ran about the house, itemizing all her possessions that she missed so terribly while she was gone (ignoring the fact that not once did she ask for any of them while she was away). She exclaimed, "I am so glad to be home!" and I chose to interpret it as she had missed me.
We had a bath together that night, and I got her dressed and ready for bed (something that is generally MTM's duty), and we watched a little extra television as well (so MTM could actually use the internet since the cottage had 1.2kbps connectivity all week). It was good to have them home.
Saturday was our anniversary (yes, I posted on a Saturday; but I linked to it on a weekday post, so everyone knows about it now - and while we're at it, thanks to everyone for the well-wishes in the comments there; I really appreciate it). I got up with the munchkin and had a shower before MTM rose and got herself ready for the day. We went out for breakfast as a family, which I thought was a treat for the munchkin since usually it's just the two of us. However, after we had returned home, her first question was, "Daddy, when are we going out for breakfast just the two of us?" Just when you think they can't get any cuter...
After nap, we dropped the munchkin off next door and went out to see The Dark Knight, which is the new Batman movie, for those less in the know. (Two second review: both of us liked the film, and felt that the Oscar buzz surrounding Heath Ledger is deserved. I found the plot to be strong, but the execution was a little plodding at points. Overall, an excellent film, and a worthy successor to Batman Begins.)
We picked up the munchkin, and after getting her to bed, MTM and I settled in with some pizza and a rental (You, Me, and Dupree, which was what it was supposed to be: brain candy).
Aside: I wanted to explain why we went out for breakfast as a family, and didn't go out for dinner as a couple. While our wedding anniversary marks the beginning of our marriage, it also marks the beginning of our family. To that end, it felt wrong to celebrate our anniversary strictly as a couple. Sure, it's important to spend some alone time, and we did that with the movie - a treat we rarely enjoy together, but should more often - but it was important to us to celebrate as a family. That's why we did breakfast out, and had our "special" dinner (the braciola) on Friday night.
All in all, it was nice to have my family back under one roof. This was the first time they went for an entire week, and I felt like it was too long in some ways. I understand that part of the cottage experience that MTM remembers as a kid is the "groove" you get into during an extended stay, so I'm torn. Maybe next year I'll go up for the first weekend so that the absence isn't quite as long.
I also have a new review up where I look at the television show Bo On The Go!
Last year, I shared the part of my day that didn't involve MTM. This year? It's Saturday, and nobody is supposed to blog on a Saturday, so instead I leave you with photos.
Happy Anniversary, Sweetheart. In five years we have created a beautiful family. I cannot wait to see what we do with the next five years. I love you.
Thanks to everyone who commented on my latest post at Babies Online. You guys rock.
Sometimes, you can learn more about a person from the people around them than from the person himself. With that in mind, these are all things that were either said to me or about me, along with the source and (where applicable) the context.
"You're the closest thing to the devil that I've ever met." - random girl during Frosh Week
"You spray paint like a vandal." - a friend who was helping me spray paint a futon frame black
"Kill this child now before he has a chance to breed." - my high school physics teacher
"You're like a wall, except you move." - a very drunk friend who leaned on me as we walked through a large crowd
"I know better than to cross you." - one of my friends in university after I told him it was OK he was late returning my notebook (he was apologizing profusely)
"Most likely to split an atom with his bare hands." - my high school yearbook
"All I could think was, 'What am I going to say to SciFi Dad after he gets kicked out for hitting that guy?'" - my best friend in university after she was knocked over by a drunk guy in a bar
"Even though I know you as well as I do, I still don't think I'd ever want to date your daughter." - a friend's husband
"You may be the captain, but from now on you do not make a decision without SciFi Dad's approval, because he has the ability to separate reason from emotion." - my high school quiz team ("Reach For The Top") teacher moderator to the team captain (and my best friend at the time)
"You're such a nice boy. Why do you dress the way you do?" - elderly woman who rode beside me on a train from Toronto to Montreal when I was 21
I also have a new post up at Babies Online, where I present a situation and ask what would you do? Please click over and leave a comment if you can.
As I was cleaning out my hard drive, I came across a document called "Daddy Journal". When I opened it, I found two entries, both from before the munchkin was born. The first entry was capturing details of life at that time (such as gas priced at $0.89/L... sigh). This is the second (written March 24, 2005 - six days before the munchkin's birth), with only identifying details removed. (In other words, this is my unedited "journal entry".)
MTM had another ultrasound yesterday. According to the technician, the baby weighs nine pounds right now. That's pretty big, even by today's exaggerated standards. I'm worried about the delivery being too much for MTM, but I know in the end whatever has to happen will happen. In other words, she'll do her best, and if necessary, they'll do a caesarean section (but I really hope not).
It's getting difficult at work now; because I know the delivery is close, so I don't want to get too deep into something. If I do get involved, then I'm sure to be called during my time off, and would really prefer to spend my time bonding with the baby.
It's odd, really, referring to my child as "the baby", since by the time anyone reads this, they will have a gender (and subsequently a name) as well as some facets of a personality. And by the time they read this themselves (assuming there is any interest in such a document) they will most certainly be more to me and everyone else than "the baby" (and in all likelihood, they won't even be the only baby). Nonetheless, I prefer that to writing in the second person.
As many people do, I wonder if I'm ready to be a parent. More often than not I feel like a kid myself, being 30 not withstanding. MTM says that my childlike attributes will make me a better dad, but I wonder if I should try and be more authoritative. See, it's my belief that our parenting style (as well as many other approaches to tasks we take in life) is governed by our responses to how we were parented. For me, I focus on my dad (gender exclusive, I know, but realistically I cannot try and be like a mother) for the most part. Our relationship was difficult for both of us because we were such different people. It was hard for us to relate to one another, and it really affected me a lot. It wasn't until I was done university and working out of town that I felt closer to him, and that was likely due to the fact that I was "my own man" in his eyes, and that I had arrived there by means he approved of (i.e. no tuition debts, no help from my parents, truly on my own in a new city).
So, armed with the experiences of my relationship with my father, I have been thinking about assuming the role of father myself. Admittedly, it is an extremely exciting task, and not just when the baby is tiny (or not so tiny, depending on the accuracy of the ultrasound technician's weight estimate) and helpless. I'm stoked about having a kid, be it a boy or a girl. But I am also worried. Will I go too far in the opposite direction from my dad and smother the kid? Will I be too gender driven in my treatment of the child (i.e. not letting a boy be too "girly" or a girl be too "boyish")? MTM says that because I'm thinking about these things now, while the child is in utero, that I'm going to be conscious of it once the baby arrives. But I worry that I'll just fall into a pattern.
Everyone keeps talking about how our lives are going to change, and how things will be so different with a baby. I'll admit that some stuff will change (quiet nights of sleep, marathon driving trips) but I doubt it will be as dramatic as some have proposed. I was told the same thing when we bought the house, and I have not felt my life change much at all. This fact is more than a little ironic to me, because I tend to be extremely routinated and very resistant to change. However, thus far when people tell me I'm in for a big surprise and that my life will emulate a snow globe, I tend to nod and smile politely, and promptly pass that information out of my head.
Thanks to everyone for all the support yesterday. I appreciate all your kind words tremendously.
According to my handy-dandy Blogger Dashboard, this post is the 500th post here at Tales From The Dad Side. The thing is, though, since technically there are posts here not only from this blog but from my two previous blogging incarnations, that number is misleading. However, it is a nice round number, and therefore offers a good opportunity for a retrospective.
Some of these are old, and some are quite recent, but all are special (at least to me).
Press Release This is the post where I announced that MTM is pregnant with our second, as well as my most commented post to date. I actually composed the outline of this in January of 2007, but refused to write any of it down until we had actually conceived.
Time Travel One of (what I consider to be) my better attempts at fiction/humour.
Missing, Frightened Or Worried? One of my many posts on the subject of "Daddy Guilt". Any retrospective would be incomplete without at least one of these posts.
100% Positive I had to include one of my "Wife Side" posts. I just had to.
Adventures with Daddy This one is from way back. It's a running diary of a day I spent alone with the munchkin when she was around 19 months old.
Despite the fact that right now I feel like I could write posts like this every day until they come home on Friday, I give you my solemn vow that I will not, after today, write another post like this during their trip. With that being said, if you're looking for funny witty stuff, you are probably better off moving along.
I'm not going to get into details about this, but my in-laws don't like me very much. That's part of the reason why I don't go for these extended cottage trips.
It's also the reason I generally do not call my wife and daughter while they are there. There's no point in pissing off my in-laws any more than they already are. (I also don't want them to spend their holiday on the phone with me.) So, I wait for them to call me, when it's a good time for them.
The last few calls have varied between two extremes with the munchkin. Some have been of the "Hi. I'm having fun. I love you. Bye!" variety, but others have involved the following exchange repeatedly:
"OK sweetheart. I love you. Have a good night."
"Daddy?"
"Yes munchkin?"
"Can I talk on the phone a little while longer please?"
Unh. Right there (pointing to chest).
And the thing is, I'm the adult, so I'm the one who's supposed to keep it together and not let her know that inside I'm breaking, that I'm wiping away tears and muting the microphone so she can't hear me crying. But all I want to do is tell her that she doesn't have to talk to me on the phone anymore, that if she really wants to, she can come home. Tonight. That Mommy will pack everything and drive her home if she wants.
But I don't say that, no matter how much I miss them, no matter how much it sucks to come home from a shitty day at work to an empty house that I foolishly believe I long for when they're here (when in truth all I want is a few quiet moments to unload my thoughts before I see them, to create some separation between my job and my home), no matter how many times I find myself crying when I think about how much I miss them, no matter how many times I have to stop typing this paragraph so I can wipe my eyes so I can actually read this text.
Instead, I tell her that of course she can talk on the phone a little while longer. I tell her how much I love her, and that I hope she's having fun, and that she enjoys her notes that I wrote her. And eventually something over there catches her interest, and she promptly tells me, "Bye!"
And then I hang up, and I wipe away the tears, and try to remind myself that they will be home soon.
I have yet another new post up at Babies Online, where I talk about nesting.
So, when a wife and daughter leave their man who enjoys his alone time to his own devices for the entire week (a man who last year had a just-released Harry Potter to occupy his weekend), what does he do on the weekend?
Apparently, he spends it with people.
Saturday morning, I threw my laptop into the trunk and made my way to Blog Friends Fest. That's right, the self-proclaimed "loner" drove nearly two hours to another city on a weekend he could have spent alone.
Meh. Alone time is sooo overrated.
I got to see someone I'd met before (Metro Mama), a couple who I had been trying to cross paths with but never ended up at the same blogger meets (Mama Tulip and Sandra), some whose paths have crossed with mine on several occasions (b*babbler, NoMotherEarth, and Lisab) and met a few new people as well (Sam, Crazy Mumma and Erin).
Woah. Holy linky overload, Batman! (And no, I have not seen The Dark Knight yet. My wife asked me to save it for our anniversary next weekend. That's right, on a night she could have forced convinced me to see a sappy cheesy romantic comedy crap-fest, she has opted for a comic book movie instead. Yes, I know I am lucky.)
It was great to finally sit down and talk to people that I had been exchanging comments (and in some cases, emails) with for months (and in the case of MamaT and Sandra, over a year). I got to see Mama T's kids (who she never posts pictures of online). Lisab and I confirmed that the CCAC still sucks. NoMotherEarth and I discussed Dr. Horrible (I still maintain it had to end that way... otherwise, he could never truly be a villain). b*babbler made fun of me when I called my daughter to say goodnight. Crazy Mumma and I commiserated over in-laws and comic books (who knew?) among other things. Sam and I talked a lot, mainly because she was stuck driving me to and from the wine tour. Erin taunted me mercilessly for going home before dinner. (Good times, people. Good times.)
I had a lot of fun (even if everyone was asking me where my wife was - what? I'm not good enough?) being the token dad blogger for the majority of the day. And fortunately, I left before the zombie attack.
And for the men in the audience: usually, these mommyblogger meet ups are highlighted by boobs - boobs being flashed, boobs being groped, whatever. Unfortunately, I must report that the only boob action I witnessed was when Mama Tulip insisted we have lunch at Hooters. (She was overruled and we ended up at East Side Mario's.)
Biggest score of the day? Getting free valet parking from the Hilton. When I pulled up, they asked if I was checking in. I said I was there for a conference. They took my car, and never charged me when they brought it back. Sweet.
Today, shortly after lunch, MTM and the munchkin will pack up the remainder of their stuff (I loaded the heavy stuff this morning before I left) and head out to my in-law's cottage. They will stay there for a week, returning just before our wedding anniversary.
So last night I made a point of spending as much time I could with the munchkin, even though I was exhausted. We started out playing with her doll house, but ended up playing a game that involved throwing bangle-style bracelets into her closet. These are some of the exchanges we had.
"Your name is Strawberry Pickinger."
"OK. What's your name?"
"Loodoo."
"No last name?"
"Nope. Just Loodoo."
"I win!"
"How come you win?"
"Because I threw the green ring first."
"But when I throw the green ring first, you win!"
"That's because, that's because my ring is there." (pointing at a random location not housing a ring)
"Good throw Daddy!"
"Thanks."
"Too bad I still win."
"Daddy?"
"Yes Munchkin?"
"I want Mommy to go to work and for you to take me to the cottage."
And at that point, I think I blacked out from the cuteness.
Recently, we have started mentioning that some items the munchkin considers hers are actually communal family items, such as books and some toys. We explained that she would be sharing these things with her baby brother once he was old enough.
Her response was not exactly enthusiastic. In fact, it was more of the What the hell are you talking about? variety.
Foolishly, I had believed that she would be pleased to share things with her baby brother. (When he's five and pissing her off all the time? Not so much. But as a baby? For sure!) Instead, it triggered a toddler meltdown in the 7-8 range. (Toddler meltdowns are measured on a scale of 1 to 10, where 1 is a visual look of disappointment and 10 is damage to items over $50 in value.)
In my mind, there are three classes of objects that we need to sort out.
Type I are the baby toys that she has outgrown and therefore should be relatively easy. (Of course, since she is orally fixated, a few of her teethers were brought out of hiding back in the winter when she expressed a need to chew on something and instantly became emotional crutches for her. They have been away for a few months now, but not long enough to have been forgotten. I worry about them, not to mention the orthodontist bills.)
Type II are the toys she does not have to share with anyone, including some specific stuffed animals that have played the "lovey" role, a few dolls that are hers and only hers, and probably a few other items to be negotiated in some future toy sharing treaty. This list will be easiest (aside from the aforementioned treaty), since she doesn't have to share anything.
Type III are the toys she still uses or plays with that we anticipate will be of interest to the second child before she is done with them. Examples of this type include many of the story books, and toys like Little People, Megabloks, and wooden trains. Unfortunately, some of the items in this grouping are things she will remember being given to her, such as the play kitchen she received from Santa last Christmas.
I'm not sure what is the best way to approach this. Is allowing her to declare some stuff "unshared" (i.e. "the treaty") reasonable? What about stuff that was given specifically to her, like the kitchen? Do we call it a "family" kitchen, or do we allow her to maintain "ownership" but force strongly encourage her to share it?
To those of you with multiple kids, how did you handle this situation? Is there anything you did that worked really well? Is there anything you would have done differently? Please share in the comments.
I mentioned this yesterday, but I added it after the feeds went out, so I'm repeating myself: I know that Blog Friends Fest (BFF) is a multi-day event, but I'm considering just going for the day on Saturday (to avoid hotel costs). Is there anyone from the GTA who is thinking about doing the same and would be interested in sharing a ride? If so, email me at talesfromthedadside [at] gmail [dot] com.
Today's song has nothing to do with today's post, other than the arguably tenuous argument that this post is about my wife (technically it's a series of anecdotes about this pregnancy) and this song is some kind of romantic or makeout song for some people. I just really like this song, and thought I'd share it today.
My wife and I have not slept in our bed since sometime in May. That's not to say we haven't shared a bed; we have - when visiting my parents, or the cottage, or a hotel. But our bed? Not since May.
A few nights ago, I made (what I thought was) an innocuous comment about how I enjoyed sleeping in the same bed at the hotel. Apparently, it made my wife feel guilty. So guilty that a couple of nights ago she "slept" in our bed again. I used quotation marks because she didn't really sleep, but made a valiant effort.
It seems our mattress is too firm, or at least more firm than the extra twin we've got in the nursery, and that makes all the difference now that her belly is quite distended. So, I'm sleeping solo for the next couple of months, until I'm evicted from our bed so she can sleep in the middle of it and be able to nurse in the football position on either side. Then I get the recliner in our room.
Are we the only ones to have sleeping arrangements all messed up by pregnancy?
MTM had an appointment with her OB yesterday, where she learned the date for her scheduled c-section (and subsequently our son's birthday): October 1.
Interestingly, we did not ask for this date. Why is that interesting? Because the munchkin's birthday is March 30 - the same day as MTM's dad (my FIL). So, every year she shares her birthday with her grandfather. Pretty cool, right? Well, the boy will have his own shared birthday, as October 1 is also my younger sister's birthday.
Now I'm curious whose birthday we'll commandeer if we have a third.
I have a new post up at Babies Online, where I discuss my plan for the delivery day and the hospital stay as it relates to my daughter.
I know that Blog Friends Fest (BFF) is a multi-day event, but I'm considering just going for the day on Saturday (to avoid hotel costs). Is there anyone from the GTA who is thinking about doing the same and would be interested in sharing a ride? If so, email me at talesfromthedadside [at] gmail [dot] com.
In the interest of being upfront, yesterday's post wasn't actually written by my daughter. She's three, people! How could she type something? It was a work of fiction based on how she would post if given the chance.
Today, we have a special guest blogger: direct from my living room, where I cajoled her away from the television, I bring you the one, the only, my daughter The Munchkin.
Thanks Daddy. Hi people who read Daddy's blog. Now what, Daddy?
Well, I usually start with a song.
Ooh! This song is really, really cool! I, like, really like this song. Yesterday, when I was riding in the back of Daddy's car in my carseat, my Daddy used the steering wheel to control the CD. It was pretty cool.
I saw the Doodlebops last week. It was, like, really, really cool. Deedee was there, and Rooney, and Moe, and I, like, sang, and danced and everything!
Munchkin?
Yes Daddy?
What did we say about using the word "like" all the time?
Not to do it so much. Sorry Daddy.
It's OK. Why don't you tell the people our big news?
Mommy has a baby in her tummy. It's a boy. I'm gonna have a baby brudder. My job is to hold the baby and kiss the baby. And take away the dirty diapers when Mommy or Daddy change them.
Then, when I'm a little bit of older, I'll be old enough to change his diapers all by myself.
You know what else I did all by myself? I swimmed! In a really big pool. I didn't hold on to Mommy or anything. I like staying in hotels. I want to live in a hotel until October. Now what Daddy?
Why don't you tell the people about some things you like?
Hmm. I like Super Why... and Doodlebops... and Bo On The Go... and Dora... and Diego...
What about some things that you like that aren't television shows?
Like what?
What do you mean, "Like what?" You like lots of things besides television!
I like root beer. And those tiny marshmallows that come in the cereal Mommy bought for your birthday.
That's not what I meant. I better stop before you tell them you like beer.
I do like beer! But it's not for kids, so I can't have any unless Mommy's not looking.
OK, I think that's enough for one post. Can you say good bye to the nice people?
Bye nice people! Daddy says if you don't comment you risk damaging my already fragile self esteem!
We'll open this post with an update about my leg. (Thanks, by the way, for all the concern in the comments. It was appreciated.) On Friday afternoon, I saw my doctor, who confirmed that it was indeed an infection. (His initial suspicion as to cause was a bug bite gone wrong, but couldn't be sure.) He put me on an antibiotic for two weeks, with a scheduled appointment after one, as well as instructions to soak it (the leg) in warm/hot water. (He also gave me a warning that if it got bigger I was to go to the hospital for IV antibiotics.)
Since then, the redness has reduced both in size and intensity. The swelling still makes the area and the ankle uncomfortable, but everything seems to be improving. I see the doctor Friday, when we'll learn if the pills I'm taking are working fast/effectively enough to allow me to avoid IV therapy.
As the saying goes, when life gives you lemons, you have to make lemonade. So, Saturday afternoon, we loaded into the van and after a couple hours on the road (some during some pretty nasty rain), we checked into the hotel originally intended for MTM and myself.
The bed was, well, a little large:
Which presented a problem for the munchkin when it came to getting into it, at least until she decided to drag over the ottoman from the nearby wing chair:
Then we decided to check out the pool. The munchkin clung to both of us for dear life (mostly MTM since I spent some time soaking my leg in the whirlpool). Afterwards, we enjoyed our complimentary executive class reception:
we made her put down the chardonnay and brie for the picture
After that, it was time for dinner, so we went to the hotel restaurant, where the munchkin asked for pizza (which was fine) with pepperoni and pineapple (which surprised the server and caused her to check with the chef). In an exciting turn of events, the munchkin was invited into the back to thank the chef personally for making her custom pizza. She was also the darling of all the servers (it was early and there was only one other table occupied - by southern Ontario's version of Paris Hilton; I swear to you people I have never listened to more vapid conversation in all my life... a 22 year old who buys wine by the case because it's nice to have around? - we were frequented by all the staff). At the end, the chef sent her a special gift:
yes, it's a real chef's hat
We closed out the evening with a "pajama party" in bed watching Treehouse before the munchkin eventually succumbed to sleep.
Sunday morning we went back to the pool, this time with camera in tow. First, I learned that the metric system doesn't just screw up Americans. Canadians have trouble too, apparently:
so this means that one foot is actually nothing in metric?
But the big event of the weekend was this:
And this:
And this:
She swam all.by.her.self. No holding on to anyone (MTM is about 2mm outside the frame, so don't worry for the munchkin's safety). The munchkin literally swam lengths of the pool (technically diagonal pseudo-widths) for an hour without grabbing on to MTM for anything. It was a marvel to see the excitement and the pride in her little face as she swam and tried to chase after other kids. I couldn't tell her enough how proud I was of her.
After that, we had some breakfast in bed (watching The Backyardigans, no less) and then made our way home, with memories of the weekend serving as our own personal lemonade.
I also have a review up about a computer game for three to six year olds called Bob The Builder Can Do Zoo.
Today, we've got a little bit of everything: some good, some bad, and even a little ugly (because everybody knows that it's the ugly that keeps people coming back for more, right?)
The Good
It took the munchkin nearly an hour to become coherent yesterday when she got home from the CBC Kids thing. She got so much swag, and a Doodlebops t-shirt, that she was beside herself.
It's Friday. The weekend is here.
The Bad
After Tuesday's rain storm, we had water in our basement. It wasn't a lot like some people got, but it still showed that we had a leak. Insurance has informed us we're not covered for this type of damage, so we're getting quotes from contractors.
We were supposed to visit my sister and her family this weekend. MTM and I were going to stay in a hotel and the munchkin was going to have a sleepover with her cousins. Now? My nephew has lice and we're out the hotel charge because I took the "non-refundable" rate.
The Ugly
We think we may have found the cause for my sickness. My right leg (the one with the the plate) is bright red and very hot. I hope to see my GP today to determine if it is indeed what MTM believes it is (an infection, in a limb with a two year old incision)
I had booked today off as a vacation day. CBC Kids was having some kind of show downtown, where my daughter would be able to see Super Why, Bo On The Go, Curious George, and even The Doodlebops. It was like preschooler nirvana.
Then, yesterday around the lunch hour, I started to feel achy, getting chills and my head felt foggy. I pushed through the rest of the day, and after having my departure from the client site delayed by an hour by someone who really didn't care how I felt, just that his system did what he wanted, I went home.
I crashed in bed for a couple of hours, then in the recliner in our room for another hour. I finally got downstairs where I half-heartedly ate some dinner (it was 8pm by this point) and watched some television. I went to bed, hoping it would pass.
It didn't.
I wanted to feel well enough to go downtown today. But sometimes wanting isn't enough. So, about 10 minutes ago, they left for the show, and I'm spending the day here. Just add it to the list of things I miss out on, except this time it's not because I have to work.
Thanks to everyone who commented yesterday. You guys had some good "and then I got married" lines.
I've got a recipe post up at Chop. Stir. Mix. today, for braciola.
I'm not going to write a long post about something thoughtful or inspiring or even funny today. No, I'm going to take the easy way out and write a short post and then ask you, dear reader, to contribute.
A couple of nights ago, I was getting ready for bed and remarked to my wife that it was exceptionally hot in the bedroom.
"Well, turn on the fan," she replied.
"That fan sucks."
"What do you mean?"
"It's too small. I used to have a really good fan. It was a big box fan, and it was like a plane taking off beside me."
"And it also fell over all the time because the feet were broken."
"Yeah, I used to have a great fan. And then I got married."
* * *
My other joke along these lines (that was a lot more common before I got the new car) was that I used to drive a Monte Carlo SS, with leather interior and power everything (even heated seats). And then I got married.
* * *
So, now comes the reader contribution part I mentioned above. In the comments, please share your own "I used to... and then I got married" anecdotes or facts.
I also have a new post up at Babies Online about the decision to have a scheduled c-section with our second.
Today's post is more along the lines of two mini-posts instead of one actual post. I want to cover a couple of things, but because of time constraints I cannot give them each a full treatment.
Yesterday I was working at a client site. I was actually working on a WFI (water for injection) system, which is an important detail because my laptop and I got a nice shower as part of the day. I was writing control code for a parallel line, and was told to "make it identical to #1", so I did. Well, we fire the thing up and water starts shooting out a pressure relief line. "Huh," said the guy who did the piping, "The other one had a hose off that line that ran to the drain. I guess now I know why I should've done the same thing." Ya think?!?
Fortunately, neither I nor my laptop were any worse for wear. (And the water was WFI, meaning it was clean enough to be injected into a human bloodstream.)
I came home exceptionally late (see above; re: idiot piping guy) and found my wife and daughter finishing dinner (as I recommended), leaving me enough time to accomplish little more than this:
Those would be a bead necklace and bracelet, threaded through shoelaces. They're supposed to be dexterity building toys for the munchkin, but last night they served as a daddy-daughter activity.
After that, the munchkin and I showered together, and watched The Wonderpets. (Aside: last night they saved the some Canada goslings from what looked like a frozen tundra... when they got "south", the dad offered them maple candy to put on their celery, complete with the offer ending in "eh?" I was scared to consider what Americans think of Canada.)
It wasn't my finest hour of parenting, but I'm trying to convince myself (in light of recent feelings) that it was good enough.
In other news, I think my readers may be the most resistant to change ever. I haven't seen that much feedback on a post not about the new baby since I changed the laughing munchkin banner. In all seriousness though, I really appreciate all the feedback. I was feeling like maybe people were turned off by the SciFi Dad moniker, and instead (it seems) most people actually like it (and some even admitted it was the reason they came over in the first place). So, while it would be wonderfully entertaining to make a gag post with new names for myself and my family, I don't think I will. SciFi Dad it is.
It's Monday, and usually on Monday I write a recap telling you about all the exciting things I did over the weekend. I do this mainly because I spend so little time with my wife and daughter during the week that my weekends are chock full of family time. This weekend was no different, but I feel like it can be summarized rather easily.
Saturday morning I took the munchkin out for a daddy-daughter breakfast date, and afterward we went to the mall, where the munchkin and I again sat side by side eating popcorn chicken in the food court (other highlights include: my wife not putting us into debt despite being at a different mall with new! exciting! stores!)
Sunday found us lounging around most of the day, and having an impromptu dinner party with our neighbours (including a fabulous risotto compliments of yours truly, which their 20 month old loved)
Exciting, no?
It may not have been a blog worthy weekend, but it was a good one in our books. I got a lot of time with the munchkin, and was able to offer MTM some extra sleep time (note that I said offer some extra sleep time; unfortunately she could not capitalize on it either morning).
Today in lieu of a more detailed recap, I want to talk about identity. There are some readers who have been with me since I started "daddy blogging" back in June of 2006. At that time I went by my real name (as did MTM). In February of 2007, for reasons of privacy, I switched to a pseudonym (and eventually reposted all the stuff from June to February with edits): SciFi Dad.
I've been SciFi Dad for over a year now, and while it does give an indication of my personality (or at least one thing I enjoy), I feel like it: a) conjures a persona (i.e. a geeky loser) that I'm not sure is accurate and b) suggests content that, while occasionally hinted at, isn't really the focus of this blog. In truth, I haphazardly chose the moniker because it "worked with" this blog's title (the inspiration for this title was Star Wars... i.e. Tales From The Dark Side; not that there is such a title in the Lucas universe, but you get my meaning).
I've been toying with the idea of renaming myself. I don't think I want fill in the blankDad, since that will likely have the same net result (pigeon-holing me and/or this blog). No, I've been considering borrowing a page from Chag of Cynical Dad and creating characterized names for my family (sorry to burst anyone's bubble, but his kids aren't Zoey and Zed, and he isn't married to Ella).
So, my question to you all is multi-faceted. Should I drop the pseudonym SciFi Dad, or has it become too synonymous with me and this blog to drop now? If you think I could drop it, do you think I should go with a different fill in the blankDad? If so, what do you suggest? If not, what do you think my pseudo-real name should be? What about my wife and daughter? I'm not making any promises to go with the majority on this one or anything, but I'd really appreciate some feedback. (Note that the first person to suggest Multi-tasking Daddy will be banished forever. You have been warned.)
A couple of nights ago, MTM and I had back to back appointments with our RMT. (Aside: I have been visiting an RMT since before I met MTM because it was covered by my employer's extended health insurance. Once she was on my coverage, she started going as well. We don't go for anything specific; it varies from time to time. I'm just wondering how many of you have regular appointments with an RMT. Please share in the comments.) This meant that I got to spend some alone time with the munchkin, and whenever I spend alone time with the munchkin, it seems I get a goldmine of blog fodder have a great time.
The Joke Unfortunately for me, this story takes place in the bathroom. Doubly unfortunate for me is the fact that I was the one using the facilities at the time. However, for the sake of a good story, I shall shame myself.
While I was on the throne, I loudly audibly passed gas farted. Without missing a beat, the munchkin asked, "Daddy, was that the school bell?" and then smiled at me.
I literally bust a gut laughing.
Proving that she does not quite have a complete grasp of humour, she spent the rest of my stay pointing at various objects, asking "Daddy, was that the school bell?" and then laughing hysterically.
However, the fact remains that she did indeed make her first joke, and it was bathroom humour at that. Could a father be any more proud?
Imitation When it was time for me to go to the RMT (MTM went first, and our routine is the second one brings the munchkin to the waiting room and we exchange vehicle keys and toddler responsibilities) I went upstairs to get ready.
As I was in our room trading my casual shorts for jeans, the munchkin came in with a pair of her own jeans, saying that she wanted to wear them. She pretty much dresses herself, so I didn't really care. She even put her worn shorts on top of mine.
Then she asked me if I was going to do up the buttons on my shirt, and I explained that I was wearing a t-shirt that had no buttons. She disappeared, returning with a t-shirt (she had been wearing a golf shirt), bemoaning that it wasn't "dark". (Kid, you're a three year old girl. None of your summer clothes are dark.)
As I was getting on my sandals, she sat down and took off her socks, explaining that she too wanted to wear sandals. Then, she needed keys to put in her pocket (like me) and a cell phone (like me) and her glasses (like me).
She wanted to be exactly like Daddy. It was too cute.
Happy Fourth of July to all you Americans out there. Why not celebrate the independence of your country by blowing up a small piece of it?
Edited to add for B as u r: the "offensive" quote is a reference to a Simpsons episode. It was said by a convenience store employee trying to sell Homer some illegal fireworks.
Well, all eight parts of the birth story are now up at Babies Online. You can start at Part One and read through all the parts (each post ends with a link to the next one) in one shot now.
As parents, we want to give our children more than we had when we were kids. We want them to have experiences we never had. My father immigrated here so his kids would have a chance at formal education. (He left school at age eight to work on the family farm after his older brothers were forced into the army for WWII.) My MIL was an only child, so it was important to her that MTM had a sibling.
My wife and I are fortunate enough to be able to say we will offer our daughter something neither of us ever had: a brother. I have two sisters (one younger, one older) and MTM has one sister (younger). The only knowledge I have about brothers comes from watching a neighbourhood family that had three boys in it. (And as an aside, the idea of a household with three boys makes me wonder how that house is still standing.)
Growing up with two sisters and no brother undoubtedly shaped me into the man I am today. I often joke that I had any and all chauvenism beaten out of me as a child, which is, of course, pure fabrication. I never really had any chauvenism in me in the first place because my dad worked so much, and when he wasn't working he was drinking, leaving me in the captivity care of my mother and sisters. There is no question that my tendency towards befriending women as opposed to men has its roots here as well.
I won't get into tons of details about MTM's childhood, as it really isn't my place, except to say that while her parents tried to be gender-inclusive (her sister had toy cars, for example), from my perspective it was a pretty girly experience overall.
As the new baby's due date approaches, I can't help but reflect on how much life is going to change for my daughter. While it would be easy to think that MTM's life will be altered the most, the truth is that she is an adult, and has been through the post-partum experience once before.
The munchkin, on the other hand, knows nothing of sharing her mother during the day. She has to share her toys with friends occasionally, but ultimately, at the end of the day, the toys are hers. Now, she has to accept that there are some (many? most?) things she currently believes to be her own are actually communal toys for everyone's use. When "play time" comes around, she'll no longer be the lone voice making the decision (assuming she wants to play as a group, which right now she usually does).
Add to this the fact that this new person, this intruder, will be a boy, and the effect becomes even more dramatic. That's not to say that her brother will be her polar opposite, but a sister would be more like to like many of the same things she would. A brother will bring a different perspective to play, a different set of needs to be met, a different approach to the experience.
Sometimes, she'll convince her brother to play with her doll house or dance to the Doodlebops. But sometimes she'll have to accept the occasional racing of toy cars. And on some (hopefully not too infrequent) occasions, a game of hide and seek (something she loves to do that I am guessing her brother will too) will satisfy everyone equally. But bottom line, it's something neither of her parents never had.
On Sunday night, after we put the munchkin to bed at an ungodly late hour because my in-laws are selfish people who refuse to eat at a reasonable hour for three year olds, resulting in dinner starting after her normal bed time, which, when combined with the fact that she seems genetically incapable of sleeping in, makes her have bags under her little eyes... seriously, is there anything more pathetic than a three year old with bags under her eyes?, MTM and I went out to the screened-in porch.
I don't remember exactly how (although I'm sure my wife will jump in on the comments with this post, so maybe she'll enlighten us), but we ended up on the subject of "our stuff" and the larger matter of "what to do with our stuff". It was at this point that I mistakenly believed we were, you know, having an actual discussion (as opposed to what it actually was: a lecture) about our stuff. I made some suggestions for reorganizing some storage on the main level (admittedly of her stuff since, aside from one 12"x12" shelf which houses my PSP and games, I have no stuff on the main floor) and she lost her shit, announcing that I was (and I quote) "stepping all over her nesting".
I was having a conversation with my wife, about stuff I could not physically care any less about, and I was "stepping all over her nesting". However, in the next breath, she proceeded to inform me that I was "doing nothing" in the evenings to alleviate the clutter in the basement, and that she felt like it was "all on her" to take care of these problems. Contradiction much?
But the cherry on top came on the ride home. As we raced pulled out of town, she turned to me and said that this had been one of the best cottage trips ever, particularly because she and I got to spend some "quality time" together Sunday night.
Apparently, getting yelled at for being both too involved and not involved enough (in stuff you don't care about in the first place) constitutes "quality time" these days. Must have something to do with this "new math" I keep hearing about.
On Friday afternoon, we drove to my in-law's cottage for the Canada Day long weekend. (Yes, today is technically Canada Day, but since they couldn't be bothered to schedule it for a long weekend, I shifted my time so that I was off yesterday and working today.)
En route, MTM and I had the following conversation:
"Oh look! None of the cows are lying down. That means no rain," she said.
"Wait. What?!?"
"When most of the cows in a flock are lying down, it means it's going to rain."
"Flock?"
"Shut up, I meant herd. I'm pregnant. Leave me alone."
"So cows predict the weather?"
"Yup."
It rained about an hour later. Hard. Hard enough that I had the wipers on full and still had to slow down because of poor visibility.
On Monday, we passed another flock, all of which were lying down. I have yet to see a drop of rain.
Tell me, oh wise internets, have you ever heard of this belief, that bovine livestock can accurately forecast precipiation?
The bulk of the weekend was spent indoors due to rain:
reading magazines
licking whipped cream
having tea parties
Of note was a conversation I had with the munchkin:
On Saturday afternoon, we got up from our family nap and descended the stairs to discover an impromptu surprise baby shower (attended only by my in-laws). I immediately asked MTM if it was black tie. To make her feel included, the munchkin received gifts as well, including a beach hoodie made from two beach towels by my MIL:
this is seriously cool, people
On Monday, the clouds parted long enough for a boat ride to the beach:
Happy Canada Day, everyone.
Thanks to all two of you who entered the contest for the Parking Pal. The winner by random draw is Marian. Congratulations, Marian. Please email me your mailing address.
I am reviewing a book over at my review blog. The book is called No Man's Lands, and is part travelogue, part memoir, part classical studies guide.
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 parts 1-5. I believe that subsequent parts will be posted daily (there are eight in total), so check my author page there for updates (if you're so inclined).
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