Open Letters From Munchkinpalooza

Dear Mr. Fantasy - Traffic

Dear Friend,

I know, it's cool to be able to say that we met during prenatal class and that our kids are friends now. I like it too. But, seriously? What were you thinking sending your kid with a fucking Barbie for my daughter's fourth birthday? Don't we know each other well enough to at least warrant a "is this OK?" from you beforehand? Isn't Barbie controversial enough that you'd check with the parents before giving one to a kid?

I Thought We Were Friends,
SciFi Dad

PS - Also? Sending a sick kid for a sleepover? Not.cool.

*    *    *
Dear MIL,

You bought Munchkin a bike for her birthday. You hid it in the garage to surprise her. You didn't get the reaction you were hoping for because she was too excited to do a tap dance routine for FIL for his birthday (that they share) in your garage (because that's the only floor you'd let her tap dance on). Get over it.

Munchkin's birthday isn't about you. Stop moping.

Your Son By Marriage (and fate's fickle hand),
SciFi Dad

*    *    *
Dear (My) Mom,

I'm sorry that you feel "cheated" by the fact that the entire family (including me) thinks you owning a computer is a bad idea, but going off on me for fifteen minutes on my kid's birthday? Unacceptable.

As I said above: Munchkin's birthday isn't about you. Stop moping.

Your Son By Fate's Fickle Hand Only,
SciFi Dad

*    *    *
Dear Waiter,

While I'm sure in your twenty-something, obviously childless, male mind it was a kind gesture to give my kid an adult sized root beer to drink because it was her birthday, you don't do that sort of thing unless you're willing to be the one to stay up with an overtired four year old all night while she bounces off the fucking walls because of all the pop she had.

Your Otherwise Satisfied Customer,
SciFi Dad

*    *    *
Dear Manufacturers of Polly Pockets,

When I helped my daughter open her multi-pack that she received for her birthday, I was a little alarmed by the presence of a riding crop. I even turned to my wife and said, "What? Does this set have a black latex outfit or something?"

Then my daughter discovered it and convinced herself that it was a weapon for a Stormtrooper action figure (because it was long, narrow and black like a blaster rifle commonly packaged with them). I spent way more time than a grown man should arguing with a newly-turned four year old that, no, Stormtroopers do not use riding crops.

Once we explained exactly what it was, my daughter (rightly) concluded that it was packaged mistakenly and has decided to store it with her My Little Ponies.

Your Frustrated Consumer,
SciFi Dad

*    *    *
Dear MTM,

Thank you for taking on the bulk of the planning and the baking for this weekend. I know Munchkin appreciated it, and I did too.

(And I know you appreciated me staying out of your way instead of trying to "help".)

Love Your Husband,
SciFi Dad

*    *    *
Dear Buddy,

Your mother only knows about the one taste of ice cream, not the rest. Remember that.

Love,
Daddy


*    *    *
Dear Munchkin,

I hope you enjoyed your Munchkinpalooza. Hopefully you didn't get too used to it, because as of today we're done with Cinderella perpetually on the tv, one song on repeat until my brain leaks out through my ears, and cake at every meal.

Love,
Daddy

Munchkin At Four Years

Happy Birthday, Princess! - Disney Princesses
Dear Munchkin,

Today, my princess, you turn four years old. I know it sounds cliche to say this, and if you read these letters when you're older it will probably make you roll your eyes, but it seems like only yesterday that I was holding you in the O.R. and whispering that everything was going to be OK. Now, I can barely hold you in my arms ("like a baby") when you ask me to.

This has been a huge year for you. It started with you finding out that Mommy had a baby inside her tummy. You spent the summer planning for your baby's arrival, convinced that it would be a sister. Fortunately, when we learned that it was a boy, you quickly adapted and accepted your new reality. You were so excited to meet Buddy, and you seemed like you were always a big sister, falling into the role so naturally.

Even now, six months later, Buddy is still your favourite person on the planet. You coo at him and engage him and try to play with him as much as you can. You read him stories and feed him bottles and hug him and kiss him (and prompt him for hugs and slobbery kisses too). You are without a doubt, the most incredible big sister.

You are taking ballet again, and this time enjoyed it enough to stick with it past the first session. You were scared at first, clinging to both of us when told to go into class, but eventually warmed up to the idea and are now happy to leave and go into the class, even with the door closed. You smile and wave at me while I watch you (if it occurs to you to do so; most of the time you're enjoying yourself too much to notice me). You are presently very excited to be in the recital come June; hopefully you won't get scared as the date approaches.

One of your biggest developments in the past year is your printing. You can now produce most letters of the alphabet discernibly, with some common errors (such as a backwards "J" or a malformed "D" that looks like an "O"), and can spell several names. You have taken to removing family photos from the fridge (that Mommy smartly labeled in block capitals) and copying the names to cards or pictures as you need them as well. Most recently, you have started to try and spell words on your own, with some success (you gave me a picture of a butterfly with the letters "BTF" at the top, and an apple to Mommy with "APL"). Related to this, you are trying to read more independently now, looking at letters and the sounds they make and trying to figure out the word when there's no picture to help.

Your tastes in tv and movies have changed dramatically. While you will still watch Dora if she is on, you much prefer the stuff on CBC Kids now. And if given the choice, you would almost always choose a Disney Princess DVD (current favourites are Beauty and the Beast and The Little Mermaid).

Partly due to circumstances (first pregnancy, now your little brother) and partly because you're getting older and less attached to Mommy, we have gotten a lot closer this past year. You climb into bed with me as often as I will let you, and are always asking for "Daddy-daughter" dates. I take you to ballet class, and we do errands together (you love it when I put your booster in my car and we drive around listening to "Daddy" music). I am really happy about that.

The baby I held in my arms while she cried, to whom I sang Under The Bridge in desperation one night is gone. The infant that crawled up the stairs, muttering "duh" repeatedly, determined to find her favourite rubber duck, is gone. The toddler who ripped books and put her fingers in her mouth is gone. And soon, the preschooler you are today will be gone as well, as you start JK in the fall. I am so proud of the little girl you have become, and continue to grow into, Munchkin. I love you, my princess. Happy Birthday.

Overheard

Everybodys Talkin - Harry Nilsson
At My Office
"Good morning, SciFi Dad speaking."

"Hi."

"Hi Munchkin! How are you?"

"I'm really good."

"Oh? Why's that?"

"Because Buddy keeps kissing me and holding my finger. He loves me Daddy! He really loves me a lot!"

"Yes he does, sweetheart."

"That makes me so happy."

"Me too, Munchkin. Me too."

*    *    *
In Our Livingroom
"Uh, hon?"

"Yes?"

"What is Munchkin doing?"

"Oh, she's breastfeeding her doll because I'm feeding Buddy."

"Oh. Munchkin?"

"Yes Daddy?"

"How's the breastfeeding going?"

"Pretty good, but it's hard to keep my shirt up."

*    *    *
In Our Kitchen
"See Buddy, Daddy is cooking dinner for Mommy. You watch your Daddy, OK? You make sure you learn how to cook special meals so you can kick us all out of the house and cook for your girlfriend."

"You know that after that they're going to use our bed, right?"

"Oh! No! Buddy, don't use Mommy and Daddy's bed."

(under breath) "Or at least don't tell your mother about it."

*    *    *
On Our Phone
"Mommy, it's ringing but Grandma's not answering."

"Then just leave a message when you hear the beep."

"Hi Grandma. This is Munchkin, and I had the worst day ever. I coughed and coughed and coughed and I have smoogums in my nose and I'm really tired. I love you. Bye!"

*    *    *
In The Video Store
"Munchkin, you've seen Beauty and the Beast, and The Little Mermaid and Tinker Bell. I think you're ready to see Sleeping Beauty. What do you think?"

"I think I'm ready, as long as I get to cuddle up beside you during the scary parts."

*    *    *
In My Car
"Daddy, I want the carousel song, please."

"Which one is that? I don't know the carousel song."

"The round and round one."

"Oh, that's not about a carousel. It's called Toy Train."

And we go round and round and round
Like a toy train
We go round and round and round
Like a carousel...

"See Daddy! He said carousel."

"Yep. You were right."

"I was right, and you were wrong Daddy."

"That's right Munchkin."

"I told you there was a carousel, and you didn't believe me. You said I was wrong. But you were wrong, Daddy, and I was right."

"Yep."

"You were wrong, and I was right."

"Uh huh."

"I was right. You were wrong."

(under breath) "You're going to make someone a good wife someday."

*    *    *
In Our Kitchen
"Munchkin, I thought I told you to put on your glasses."

"I said I would when I'm done My Little Ponies!"

"I'd like you to put them on now, please."

"Argh! Fine!"

"Munchkin, that's not very nice. If you can't be a good listener, maybe we can't go visit [my parents] this weekend."

"Hmph!"

"And we definitely can't make cookies today, right Mommy?"

"Right."

"So please be a good listener, because I want cookies."

Being Wrong Is OK

Do Right Woman, Do Right Man - The Commitments
My daughter has a couple of Disney Princess books that came with a CD. The CD reads the story (complete with the chimes telling her when to turn the pages) and even has a song from the movie at the end. She really enjoys them, and they are often her second choice for an activity (her first being the television, of course). We (MTM and I) like them too, since she's being read to and as an added bonus both of us are free to blog take care of stuff around the house.

During one of the several stops during our last road trip, Munchkin was getting bored in the back seat waiting for her brother to stop crying. Since we were sitting without the engine running and didn't know how long we would be, we didn't want to use the radio, so we suggested she read one of her princess books. She did. Verbatim. (Well, for the first few paragraphs; then she started skipping parts, but she was clearly trying to recite the story as she remembered it being told, not just her version of the tale.) It was very cute, and pretty cool too.

I knew my mother would get a kick out of it, so I suggested Munchkin read a story to all of us after getting her jammies on instead of one of us reading her a story. She gladly accepted and sat in front of everyone with her book. She started reciting the story just like before, but eventually she skipped a page, and by the time she got to the end of it she was upset because she had missed one of her favourite parts (by accidentally turning two pages at once). She ran to the dining room table and hid under it while we all tried to convince her that she did a wonderful job and that we were so proud of her. She responded that she made mistakes and that it wasn't perfect. After a few moments of sulking, she came back and was her usual self.

Later that evening, I was driving my younger sister home to her apartment when she commented how sad she felt for Munchkin when she ran under the table. This made her recall a study (or a paper or a theory or something - she's a women's studies prof, so she has access to things that most people wouldn't) that found (or suggested) that one of the reasons boys tend to excel at mathematics more than girls do (I am by no means suggesting this is true; I'm merely repeating something) because they are less afraid of mistakes, that girls tend to find math more difficult because they are too scared to be wrong. (Please do not misunderstand me: I am not suggesting I agree with the theory that boys are "better" at math than girls. In fact, I personally doubt gender has much to do with academic success.)

I found this concept interesting. My daughter definitely hates being wrong, and has a hard time dealing with the fact that not everything is perfect all the time (the countless torn pages of perfectly suitable drawings she has done that have quickly been shredded in frustration are but one example). She even sometimes shies away from new tasks because she doesn't think she'll be good at them.

Obviously, we don't want her to grow up afraid of being wrong. She needs to learn that not only are mistakes common, but they are the path to understanding. She needs to accept that she will be wrong from time to time, and that it's OK to be wrong.

The logical question that arises is, how can we change this? What can we, as parents, do to convince her that taking risks is not only OK, but part of growing up? How can we show her that making mistakes, doing something wrong, or even completely failing is normal and part of the learning process?

My Short Lived Career As A Homemaker

New Millenium Homes - Rage Against The Machine
When MTM and I moved in together, we got a basement apartment in a house with a family of four (at the time; they would later have a third child while we were living there). The apartment was a 20 minute drive from my office, but was well over an hour from the school she was teaching at. (She was in the process of switching boards, so we decided to get a place close to where I was and where she wanted to be.)

Partly owing to the fact that I was able to flex my time and get home extra early, partly because our access to the laundry room (in the owner's part of the house upstairs) was restricted to weekdays (she did her laundry on weekends) and partly because I preferred to keep our weekends free to do other things like go out on dates or whatever, I did the bulk of (I would say all, but I'm sure if I did MTM would chime in the comment that she did some stuff) the housework.

Monday was our laundry day, and our big cleaning day. I got home from work around 3.30pm and threw a load in the washer. Around an hour later I would switch it to the dryer and put another one in the washer, and repeat this cycle for the five or more loads until the evening when the laundry was done. In between changing loads, I washed the floors, cleaned the bathrooms (yes, our basement apartment had two bathrooms - it was bitchin'), vacuumed, dusted, cleaned the kitchen, and prepared dinner. The rest of the week I kept the place relatively tidy and prepared (and often cleaned up from) meals.

When I was doing laundry, and even sometimes when I wasn't, I would often poke my head around the corner (the laundry room was just off the side door entrance) and see if the woman who lived upstairs was around. Once we got to know one another a bit better, we (she and I) became pretty good friends. The irony, of course, is that our friendship became a lot like that of two homemakers: we exchanged tips on getting stains out of clothes (I taught her the ways of undiluted Mr. Clean on dryer-set stains), or recipes that one of us tried and really liked. It was comical; we'd even click our tongues and end most conversations with lines like, "Well, I'd better get dinner started... [our spouse] will be home soon," or "I've gotta run... this laundry isn't going to fold itself!" We even complained about our spouses not appreciating everything we did for them (hers ran his own business and often worked late and weekends).

My complaint was rooted in the fact that by the time MTM got home, it was usually time for dinner. She ate quietly because she was so tired, and often forgot to even thank me for anything. Then she would go into the office (yes, our apartment had two bedrooms as well... see above, re: bitchin') and work on her teacher stuff until the early evening, when she would either pass out on the couch beside me in the guise of "watching tv" or just give up all pretenses and go to bed. (For the record, I understood that her employment situation was far more demanding than mine. I took issue with the fact that she didn't acknowledge what I did. Eventually I articulated this to her, and she felt really badly and tried to rectify the situation as best she could.)

The next school year - the one after we got engaged - she got a position at a school five minutes away, and my job had me working 12 hour days, so we exchanged roles somewhat. But what didn't change was the fact that I was friends with the woman upstairs while MTM's relationship with her remained somewhat distant. I don't know if it's because MTM isn't as outgoing as I am, or if the woman upstairs "took my side" and avoided befriending MTM out of some bizarrely misplaced solidarity, but whatever the reason, MTM never enjoyed the camaraderie that I did.

Maybe it's because I made a better homemaker than she did. We'll never know.

(Now, since I know my wife will provide her two cents in the comments, no I don't do all the housework now. In truth, I do very little actual housework, dividing my limited home time between being a father and my super-important tv watching. Most of the household stuff gets done while I'm at the office, with the exception of laundry - which I am not allowed to do - and cooking - which I actually do some of.)

The Persistence Of Memory

I Cant Remember - Alice In Chains
I am a huge fan of Salvador Dali. I have books of his work as well as whatever prints of his my wife will permit me to display some prints at my office. One of my favourites is this piece:


I was reminded of its title early yesterday morning, before I descended the stairs.

My daughter has always amazed us with her ability to remember seemingly everything. It is no longer a rare occurance to have both MTM and myself stare at each other, slackjawed, after hearing Munchkin recount a story from a day long in the past (like, we're talking months - if not years - here people). Often, she will even remember details that we have forgotten in time.

*    *    *
Sunday night after we had returned home from visiting my parents, we were getting the kids ready for bed. As MTM took Buddy out of the bath, I called to Munchkin from the other room while I watched Michigan State in the NCAA tournament for the fifth or sixth time, telling her she needed to stop dawdling and get her jammies on. What came next, well...

Huge melodramatic sigh. "What's the problem?"

MTM gasped from Buddy's room. I sat stunned for a moment.

"Mommy, do I have carte blanche?" (Recently my discipline tactics have come into question, specifically that I react too harshly in certain situations. So, this time I decided to check with MTM that this was, indeed, as severe as I thought it was.)

"Yes you do, Daddy."

"OK Munchkin, we're done. Get yourself ready for bed, NOW!"

Crying. "Nonono! I want Mommy!"

"No Mommy right now. Just Daddy telling you to get ready for bed."

I proceeded to get her room ready for bedtime (turning on night lights, getting the CD setup to repeat a specific song, etc.) as she got herself dressed.

As we stood in front of the bathroom mirror brushing her teeth, I asked, "Do you know why you're going to bed right away?"

"No."

"Did you speak to Daddy nicely?"

"No."

"Is that OK?"

"No."

"Do you know why you're going to bed now?"

"Because I didn't speak nicely to you."

I tucked her in, kissed her good night, and told her that I loved her and that I wished she would speak to me nicely. I also promised to ask MTM to come kiss her good night when she had gotten Buddy into his crib.

*    *    *
That evening was a series of smaller events coming to a head. Admittedly, my fuse was a little bit shorter than usual due to lack of proper sleep (two nights on a futon with a preschooler who refuses to sleep unless wedged up against you with your arm around her like a python will do that to a man) and a long drive home, but it (talking back) is something we will not tolerate. I hated hearing her cry herself to sleep, even though the crux of the punishment was about a five to ten minute earlier bedtime and no stories or good night snuggle with the baby. (Well, that, and the knowledge that we were upset with her, which, in hindsight, is probably the worst part of it for her.)

*    *    *
The next morning, I peered into her room as I always do before going downstairs. As is often the case, she was awake, and she quietly said, "Bye, Daddy."

I went into her room (as I always do once she confirms that she is awake) and knelt by her bedside. Instead of turning her back to me so I could scratch it like she usually does, she turned to me and said, "I'm sorry I was grumpy with you last night. Mommy said I should remember to tell you I was sorry because I forgot to tell you last night."

"I accept your apology, Munchkin."

"Thank you, Daddy."

"You're welcome. I don't like getting angry with you, sweetheart. It makes me sad. But, you can't speak to Mommy and I like that."

"I know Daddy. I'm sorry."

"It's OK princess. I love you."

"I love you too."

I wrapped my arms around her small frame, and held her tight. I kissed her several times, and just stayed there, kneeling beside her bed with her in my arms, for a lot longer than usual.

*    *    *
I don't know why I expected her to forget about the previous evening's events, or why I was so surprised that she remembered, but I was. I guess a big part of it has to do with how my parents dealt with discipline: we got in shit, and then it was over. We never discussed it or had it explained to us, we just moved on. I try not to do that with Munchkin (and will continue this practice with her younger brother), explaining why I am upset instead of just handing out punishments or reactions, but sometimes I guess I forget the follow-up.

More than anything, what I took away from this little experience is that while neither my kid nor I are perfect, we can come to an understanding when mistakes are made, and feelings are hurt, and come out the other side stronger for it.

What about you? When it comes to discipline, do you find your kids remember everything that went on, or do they just ignore it and move forward? Do you find it hard to leave the past in the past? Do your kids?

---

In other news, I have a review of Swiffer 360° dusters posted at my review blog. (Also: I'm trying out a slightly different review style for this one - let me know what you think.)

Road Trips With Kids (and other unrelated suffering)

Pain - Three Days Grace
This weekend, we made the drive to visit my parents (to make up for the previous cancellation). The drive there on Friday reminded us how different travel used to be before Munchkin grew accustomed to the idea of spending more than four hours strapped into her carseat. It also showed us how lucky we are to have her as a daughter.

The last three times we visited my parents, Buddy was an absolute marvel (as compared to his older sister, who screamed like someone was ripping out her toenails even though MTM rode beside her the whole way for the first year of her life). He slept a lot, but even when he was awake, he just cooed and gurgled and stared at his big sister. This last trip, he slept for the first part, but after we took a rest to feed him, he just wasn't the same. He got so worked up that we had to stop two more times over the last 200km (a distance that, on highways, should take under two hours), making our actual trip time almost six hours compared to our usual four. (In his defense, he was awesome on the trip home: no crying, even playing with toys while awake for a while.)

Unrelated to my point, Munchkin was a trooper on that trip down. She could easily have lost her shit as well (goodness knows I was close myself) but she stayed calm, tried to reassure Buddy that everything was OK, that they were going to see their grandparents soon, and that it would be fun. She tried to hold his hand, and give him toys, and even sing to him over his screaming. She was, without a doubt, the best big sister ever.

Back to my point: I get that road trips are hard on kids. I also will acknowledge that we probably do more road trips than the average family. However, I'm often shocked to hear people call us "saints" or "insane" (OK, that doesn't generally surprise me; but in this case it does) for the fact that we pack up our kids and drive four hours (or more) each way once every four to six weeks. I mean, to me, it's not like we have a choice: my parents are not well enough to travel to us; if we want them to see their grandkids, we have to bring the kids to them.

The reactions people give when they find out that we do this at least eight times a year if not more make me wonder: are we that unique? Are we "good children" for driving with our kids to visit them so often, or are we just your average family trying to make sure the older and younger generations spend time together?

What about you? How far and how often do you drive with your kids (either to visit family or for vacations)? Do you think we're nuts for what we do?

*    *    *
In other news, I had to "man up" this weekend. On Saturday, Munchkin decided that having a nap with MTM and Buddy wasn't enough; she needed to have me in there as well (even though right now she and I are sleeping in the basement so MTM can nurse Buddy without disturbing us). Well, after she wouldn't sleep, I flopped over on my stomach (I had been spooning her) and she climbed up to "rub my back"; only she made a slight error in judgment, and knelt with all of her (admittedly limited, thankfully) weight squarely on my scrotum, literally crushing the contents therein. I did my best effort to deny my agony (I avoided crying and the use of four letter words) and left the room. MTM soon followed, and provided me with an ice pack (at my request) - I have never needed an ice pack for a genital injury before.

And then, being the stupid idiot awesome son and father I am, I went out and got Buddy new shoes from my mother:




He looks like he enjoys them, right?

Oh, and he's sitting up for close to four minutes at a stretch before he forgets he's sitting up and falls over. So far, no concussions are suspected.

Summer Activities

Summertime - Charlie Parker
Recently, MTM and I have started discussing summer programs for Munchkin. (I know! Spring doesn't even start until this weekend, right? But apparently if we don't get our act in gear, all the alpha moms will fill the classes, forcing my daughter into the tethered swimming equivalent of preschooler summer activities.)

One of the ones we're strongly leaning towards (or we may have actually decided; my wife will undoubtedly correct me about this in in the comments if I'm wrong) is a dance camp through our current ballet school. It sounds great, and is something my mother is willing to pay for as a birthday gift (because seriously, these things are not cheap). The only issue I have with it is that we just spent the fall, winter and spring doing dance... should we "expand her horizons"?

She has expressed an interest in karate recently, although that's only because my nephew (who she worships) is taking it because he's got so much energy and my sister is desperate to channel it. However, I think I'll delay the period in my life where my daughter can kick my ass for later on.

In sports, we looked at the usual suspects: t-ball, soccer, and some bizarre sport that seems sort of like kickball but with a whole lot of unnecessary electronics in the bases and stuff. Since my wife has training as a lifeguard and swim instructor, we figured we'd forgo the formal swim classes this summer and just get her pool time with Mommy. The rest of the sports? She's still too young for anything too structured, so we're waiting on it.

The thing is, I don't know about the rest of you, but my parents didn't arrange summer activities for me like this. We had swings in the backyard, a tent that was too dangerous to sleep in overnight, and neighbourhood kids, none of whom did summer activities either. (Well, some kids did baseball, but that's it.) To be fair, I am in a very different socio-economic situation now than I was as a kid (namely, my wife and I enjoy a disposable income my parents never did), but still, it feels like people are trying to schedule their kid's entire summer rather than let them be kids.

I know some parents have to arrange stuff like this because their daycare situations fall through in the summer months when the people are busy with their own kids. I also get that for families where both people work, a kid that's too old for daycare but too young to be left alone needs something to do. I understand that.

But it seems to me like kids have so much going on in the summer that they can't just enjoy being a kid in the summer. Am I alone in this? Have you started planning your kid's summer activities? How "booked" is your kid so far, and how "booked" do you anticipate them being? I'm really curious to know.

Free, Revisited

Freedom - Rage Against The Machine
Remember how I told you about my free night before? Yeah, that wasn't so spectacular. I'd like to tell you it was filled with hookers and blow tons of fun and entertainment, but honestly? It was a late night at work, followed by a failed attempt to get the Munchkin's birthday present (believe it or not, 14" bikes are not that common), followed by a quick grocery run, which saw me home after 6.00pm. I spent the evening between the computer reading blogs and the tv watching Buffy on DVD (I won the complete series in a contest from Avitable; I hadn't seen the show before, and now I'm halfway through season 7).

Note to self: find better hobbies.

I did, however, miss my wife and kids, and not just in a I noticed they were gone sort of way. Things felt different, not good different, that night. Even though I looked forward to some "me time", by the end of the evening all I wanted was to hug my kids and kiss my wife good night.

Apparently, Munchkin missed me too. The following morning (yesterday) I was in a meeting, and when I got back to my desk there was a voicemail from her telling me that she missed me, and that she would be coming home after lunch, and then she blew me a kiss over the phone (something she never does). I would later learn that several times she mentioned to MTM that she missed me a lot, sometimes in front of my inlaws (which, the petty part of me, the part that good sense and manners tells me I should subdue and/or ignore and/or suppress, did a little happy dance about).

Initially, this made me think that sleepovers away from me are a bad idea: I miss them, they miss me not to mention excessive exposure to my inlaws. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that it was not just a good thing, but a great thing.

Lately I have found myself being less patient with Munchkin than I'd like. In my defense, she has been acting out more recently, not that that's an excuse, but it does offer somewhat of an explanation. I don't like losing my cool, or letting her see how exasperated I can get when she doesn't listen.

In turn, she has become a little more hesitant around me, overreacting when she feels in control but makes a mistake (as opposed to when she's overtired or grumpy and makes a mistake that leads to the end of civilization as we know it) and reminiscing about the times she really pushes me to my limit and I follow through on a threat (for perspective, we're talking about the time I made her go upstairs to her room to cry since she was doing so quite loudly and melodramatically and it was freaking Buddy out).

Even though she was very overtired last night, and even though she had already completely lost her shit with MTM earlier in the day, she was a perfect angel with me. She asked for many more hugs and cuddles throughout the evening, and asked for me to do her nighttime routine (I typically do, but not without a couple of inquiries about the possibility of MTM handling things that night). She told me that she was happy we were all together again, as a family.

And after I convinced my tear ducts to not leak (so as to avoid yet more questions), I told her that I was happy to be a family again too. As much as being apart from them made me sad, and even though my eagerness for their absence made me feel guilty, this little sleepover did more for my relationship with my little girl than I could have anticipated. It's ironic really. Part of the reason I avoid business travel is because I don't want my relationship with my kids to suffer (part of it is that I would miss them too much too). I'm not saying I'd reconsider my position about travel, but it does present an interesting counterpoint.

What about you? When your kids are away from you, do you find things better upon reuniting? To those parents who travel for work, do you find your relationship with your kids is better when you return?

But Why?

Dont Ask Me Why - Billy Joel
My daughter figured out at a very young age (like a lot of other children) that if she didn't understand something, she could ask a question about it.

See something you're not sure of? Ask a question. Overhear part of a (what is supposed to be private) conversation? Ask a question. Smell an offensive odour? Ask that question. You get the concept.

I never really notice just how curious my kid is until we're somewhere outside the house, and then her inquisitive temprament combines with her inability to speak discretely or whisper to create a force of nature. She doesn't care who she's talking about, or who is listening.

*    *    *
Scene: In line at the video rental place.

"Daddy, that movie has a monster on it. It's not safe for kids, is it?"

"No honey, that's not a monster. That's Andre The Giant."

"So it's safe for kids?"

"No."

"How come that boy is looking at it then?"

"I don't know. Maybe his parents let him watch it."

The boy drops the DVD case and runs off.

"Daddy, that boy isn't listening to his mother."

"No, it seems like he isn't."

"Why doesn't he listen?"

"I don't know. Probably for the same reasons you don't listen sometimes."

"But he was running around the store. I don't run around the store."

"OK."

"So he wasn't listening to his mother telling him to not run around the store."

"Right."

"Because it's not safe to run, is it Daddy?"

"No, it's not."

"Why?"

"Because you could fall."

"And if that boy fell, he could hurt himself, right Daddy?"

"Right honey."

"Daddy?"

"Hey! Look at that! Disney Princess candy!"

"Ooh!"

*    *    *
When we're out in public, my daughter provides a running commentary, stream of consciousness style, of the event. It may be observations (and questions) about other people she sees. It may be comments (and questions) about events since passed (either earlier in the day or two years ago; she's not picky). It may be a discussion (including questions) about an imaginary event she just composed in her head.

Don't misunderstand me, I think it's somewhat annoying and embarrassing at times adorable, but I wonder how other people perceive this. When you hear a kid constantly talking (probably loudly) about stuff, do you find it endearing or annoying, or maybe a little bit of both? Does it make a difference if it's your kid or not? Also, if you have no kids, do you think you're more likely to be bothered by this sort of thing?

Free

Get Free - The Vines
This morning, I prepared a special drink for my daughter (green apple juice - as in, with green food colouring like they do with beer - she usually gets chocolate milk first thing, but since green milk would be nasty, we went with the apple juice), wrote her a little note, and left for work knowing that I won't see the three of them until tomorrow evening when I get back from work. They're sleeping over at my inlaws' place, leaving me free to live the life of a bachelor (or at least a man with no wife nagging at him and no kids producing vile substances that either need to be cleaned off the child or off himself) for one night.

It's interesting: if today were a typical day I would feel badly if work ended up running late (I'm not in my office today; I'm at a job site doing system tests, which can run on and on and on and on...) because I would "lose out" on time with my kids, but I feel no guilt for the fact that I will "lose out" on the whole evening with my kids.

This realization makes me wonder: do I feel guilty because I want to spend time with my kids, or because they're there, and I know that they want to spend time with me? I genuinely want to spend time with them, I want them to know how much I love them and how important they are to me. I want them to know me, and to see me not as an authority figure, but as a nurturing parent, just like their mother.

But at the same time, I would be lying if I didn't admit that I'm relieved and grateful for the "night off". Some nights (I would have to admit that recently it's more like many nights) I don't have it in me to be Daddy, evidenced by my falling asleep on the couch as my kids play in the kitchen while MTM prepares dinner. Tonight gives me the opportunity to take it easy, watch a little more tv than usual, and probably have a post-work nap.

(Here's the part where some of you will roll your eyes or shake your head at me.)

And because of how relieved I feel for my free night, I feel badly too. I feel like a "bad" father because I'm relieved at the prospect of not having to be a father for a night. I know that it makes me human to want some "me time"; logically I know this. But I feel like I should want to spend time with my kids, no matter how tired I'm feeling.

This isn't me being whiny, or feeling sorry for myself. This is me being honest with myself, and with you.

I'm torn between my desire to be a good father, a good dad, and my feeling to be me. I feel like sometimes those are mutually exclusive entities, and I don't like it. The fact that what I consider me isn't a good father, that being one is something I work at and put effort into isn't something I'm proud of. The reality is that while I want to spend time with my kids, I also want to spend time alone. Does that make me a bad father, or maybe an ill-equipped one? I don't know. Are these feelings a result of me being only human, as they often say? I don't know that either. What I do know is that I don't know just how I feel about tonight.

My Sunday By The Numbers (With Some Thoughts Too)

Beautiful Day - U2
5.5 - the number of hours I was left alone
0.75 - the number of hours spent outside the house doing errands (groceries for that night's dinner)
8 - ounces of breastmilk consumed
24 - ounces of breastmilk available in the fridge at the start of the day
3 - number of diaper changes
3 - number of diaper changes that involved poo
3 - number of diaper changes that involved significant amounts of poo
1 - number of outfits soiled
2 - number of change pads soiled
20 - number of wipes used
2 - number of times during said diaper changes that Buddy grabbed his toes and pulled so hard he made himself spit-up167 - number of times a deity was called upon for assistance during a diaper change (including Osiris, the Egyptian god of the afterlife, which is probably an indicator that I've been watching too much Buffy lately)
2 - number of episodes of Buffy I watched
0 - number of times Buddy cried

*    *    *
Did you notice that last number? The big, fat, honking zero for number of times he cried?


I was terrified in the days leading up to Sunday. Buddy and I had a shitty track record when it came to alone time - brief moments of alone time compared to what our plan was for Sunday.

The thing is, I was alone with Munchkin for a similar amount of time when she was around this age (MTM had a cousin's wedding to attend, a wedding where, I might add, babies - even breastfed babies - were not welcome) and I was nowhere near as concerned. The more I think about that time in her life, and compare it to this time in Buddy's, I realize how different the relationships are between my kids and me. I spent a lot more time with Munchkin as a baby than I do Buddy, and it's not because I'm avoiding him or anything - on the contrary, I find myself making more effort to spend time with him than I did Munchkin.


But the reality is that with Munchkin I had no one else pulling at me, whereas with Buddy his older sister needs attention too, and when it comes to making a choice between the two, I usually end up with Munchkin because it's just easier: she knows me better, she's more comfortable around me, and she doesn't depend on MTM for sustenance. So, that lead us to the point we were at, where every time I was alone with my son I was scared because I didn't know how he would react, and if I had the skills to console him.

This Sunday helped prove that while I may still be "Not The Mama" sometimes, there are others where I can step in and be number one parent, at least for a little while. We had a great day (three poos in five hours aside - seriously, what's up with my luck?) just hanging out and playing. I only called MTM once (to let her know we were back from the grocery store) and every time she called us I was able to report that everything was smooth sailing. Sure, we had a couple of whiny, overtired moments after lunch, but we navigated the choppy waters together and came out the other side stronger for it. Sunday was a huge milestone for our family - it showed us that MTM can leave Buddy for extended periods with me and not worry (too much) about how he's handling the separation.

It also showed that I can change poopy diapers (crap... that was a sweet deal I had going before) without getting it everywhere. (OK, maybe if we all hope really hard together, we can will MTM to forget that last tidbit. What do you think?)

How To Succeed... Chapter 2: Bribery

Price to Pay - Blues Traveler
This is chapter two of my satirical work, How To Succeed In Parenting Without Really Trying series. You can read Chapter One if you like, but it is not necessary for understanding this chapter.

Without parents, kids would run wild, probably naked, and eat junk food all day. And while I may have something positive to say about those things in a future chapter, today I want to talk about using bribery to curb those impulses, because every parent wants to control their child's behaviour, if for no other reason than for them to get a beer from the fridge for you.

People don't do things if there isn't anything in it for themselves. Think about yourself, for instance. Would you go to work if you didn't get paid? Of course not! Would you go to your mother-in-law's house if she wasn't cooking you dinner? Well, maybe you wouldn't go even if she did cook, but if she wasn't feeding you, I can bet you're not going to put up with her crap. Bottom line: if you aren't getting anything out of it, you're highly unlikely to do it (unless you're one of those altruistic freaks, in which case you should have offered to massage my shoulders while I typed this, damnit).

Why should kids be any different? Why should they clean up all the dirty clothes you leave lying around their laundry, or put away their toys, or behave in public, or poop on the toilet instead of in the blocks bin if there's nothing in it for them? And while we're at it, why are you trying to raise a bunch of patsies anyways? Do you want them to be mindless sheep for the rest of their lives, always being taken advantage of because they do whatever anyone tells them to do? Of course not!

Now, what do you have that kids want? If they're older, it's pretty easy: money. This has the added bonus of you not having to purchase something specific for bribing the little bastard child. If they're younger, you have two basic avenues: food or toys. (There is a third avenue, television, but if you've read and absorbed Chapter One, tv has probably become something they're used to and therefore not a weapon of bribery. Not to worry though; the other options are more than sufficient.)

With food, you could always try and bribe them with papaya or dried mangoes or something, but you're probably going to spend more time convincing them it's not healthy than you would like. In my experience, it's best to stick with the four c's: chocolate, candy, chips, and cookies (and don't forget the "other" c's: cupcakes, cake, and cola). The sugar content will serve them well as they're carrying the garbage out, or running around dusting the furniture.

Toys can become expensive, so save them for a really big thing (like being wait staff for your Superbowl party). Also, you should know that once a child is bribed with a toy, the likelihood of them accepting a small amount of chocolate or candy instead decreases dramatically. Also, don't even bother trying to convince them that books are just toys for their mind. You know that's bullshit. They know that's bullshit. You're not fooling anybody.

So that's it. Keep your cupboards stocked with sweet and salty treats and don't be afraid to use them when your kid refuses to bow to your whim isn't listening. Just think of it as the paycheque they earned for being stuck with you as a parent your kid.

Polarizing

Thanks to everyone who took yesterday's personality test. You will all be happy to learn that the person who scored the highest was actually my neighbour, so my "substitute" is nearby whenever I need someone to drive me nuts remind me of my wife.

Torn - Natalie Imbruglia
Buddy is sick these days, not in a oh my god my baby is sick what am I going to do? sort of way, just a aww... my baby is sick, poor little thing sort of way. However, not to diminish his circumstances, we did cancel a trip to visit my parents last weekend, and our doctor did send him for a chest x-ray (that yielded nothing of significance). Bottom line, he coughs a lot and is filled with mucus that chokes him and makes him puke more than his already-pukey self. He's on antibiotics now, so we expect him to improve in short order.

Having a sick kid sucks. That is a universal truth. That feeling of helplessness, knowing that your child is in pain or discomfort, and not being able to help them is awful. It may be a part of life, but it's a shitty part.

With him being sick, I am even more helpless than usual in my efforts to parent him. Whereas I used to be the one who fed him dinner, recently only MTM can get him to eat his cereal or veggies. I tried to feed him a bottle a few nights ago, something he usually loves (thanks to the fact that the breastmilk flows more quickly from the bottles than from my wife's breast), and he wouldn't take the whole bottle, stopping and crying for MTM. I even tried to take a nap with him one night after work (something I thought he'd like because he usually struggles to sleep in his swing or his crib these days) and he spent 20 minutes crying "Mama" (yeah, he already seems to be forming a discernible "Mama" when he wants to... we're skeptical that it may just be parental hope and/or pride, but my inlaws have heard it too... plus, last night I asked him if he wanted Mama or Daddy, and he clearly responded with "Mamamama").

In short, it sucks hairy yak testicles. Yet, this experience has been polarizing for me. (No, not because of the yak balls. Read on.)

Throughout the day, if allowed by both our schedules, MTM gives me updates on his condition. Most of them are similar: he's sick and lethargic; not his usual self. However, when I return home from work, I am greeted with the biggest gummy smile and often squawks. He reaches for me to pick him up, and then puts his head against mine and rubs it against my temples before attempting to rip off my glasses and/or my beard. He slobbers in my facial hair and alternates between pressing his head to mine and pushing away and holding my face in his tiny hands while he smiles and/or drools on me. This is far more affection than I have ever gotten from him, but it only lasts about five minutes before he decides he wants his mother again.

On the one hand, my boy treats me like even more of a stranger, more of a second-class parent than he used to most of the time. But on the other, he knows me now! He really knows that I'm his Daddy and he's happy to see me. He misses me when I'm away and once he knows I'm home his interest in me wanes.

So, now for the big question: given all of the above (in other words, don't just focus on "He loves you SciFi"), am I right to be scared shitless about this Saturday, when MTM will take Munchkin to see the Doodlebops in concert downtown, leaving the men of the house alone for approximately six hours, or am I just paranoid? (Make me feel better, internets.)

How MTM Are You?

Who Are You - The Who
I recently took a few of those online personality tests, and came to the conclusion that I could write one myself. Since today is Wednesday, and I haven't done a Wifey Wednesday post in a while, I thought I'd have some fun at my wife's expense. This test determines how "MTM" you are.

1. You have a story to share with your spouse. Do you:
   1. skip all the preamble and provide a brief and concise narrative
   2. give some background along with your story
   3. start with, "In the beginning, the Earth was formless and desolate..." and go from there because it's important to get all the details


2. You prepare something from the book of she who shall not be named. Everyone in your house agrees that it tastes awful. You:
   1. admit defeat and discard the book
   2. make some other recipes for yourself to see if they're all bad
   3. lie to everyone and continue to serve them food from the evil book, denying the source of the recipes even though everyone knows that the food tastes like crap because of the pureed spinach and endamame


3. You decide to relocate your home computer to a common room such as a kitchen or dining room. You place it:
   1. on a standard computer desk
   2. on a small computer cart that isn't large enough for the monitor and keyboard
   3. buried inside a large cabinet such that any maintenance to peripherals is more difficult than plumbing under your kitchen sink


4. You have sufficient space for two more items in a cupboard. You have four of those items. You:
   1. identify a few non-essential items that can be discarded from the cupboard, making room for the extra items
   2. identify a few items that can be relocated to another room or the basement to make room for the extra items
   3. convince yourself that stacking the items precariously will work, even though it involves leaning them on the cupboard door as you close it, meaning that the next person who opens it is sure to be showered with cupboard contents


5. After assessing your baby, your family doctor tells you to go get a chest x-ray at a nearby clinic. You:
   1. go home, call the clinic, and make an appointment for later that day
   2. go home, make the appointment, and arrange for someone to watch your older child while you go
   3. go home, make the appointment, arrange for someone to watch the older kid, and pack a hospital bag sufficient for a two night stay for both you and the baby


6. When packing for a trip, you:
   1. pack only enough outfits for the number of days you'll be staying
   2. pack enough outfits for a couple of extra days
   3. pack with enough variety to anticipate at least a 30°C temperature swing in 48 hours


7. For the past few months, you have been trying out various recipes for biscuits. You finally find one that everyone in your family loves. You:
   1. discard all other biscuit recipes and make only the good ones from now on
   2. keep all the failures, and occasionally try one again, but usually make the good ones
   3. continue to try new biscuit recipes in the hopes of finding a better one


8. When purchasing cleaning products, you:
   1. buy the most cost effective products that clean properly
   2. buy only antibacterial, antimicrobial, antibiotic, antiseptic products
   3. buy the products made from organic produce and distilled kitten tears that are so non-toxic they can also serve as margarita mix


9. You have recently moved into a new dwelling and have unpacked. You decide that the way you unpacked everything in the kitchen isn't working for you, so you:
   1. reorganize the kitchen and give your partner a tour when he or she returns home from work
   2. wait for your partner to come home, then force them to "help" you reorganize the kitchen
   3. wait until the day you're leaving for a week long trip, reorganize the kitchen, then leave before your partner returns home from work, leaving them unable to prepare dinner


10. Ketchup is:
    1. a condiment
    2. an essential part of many meals
    3. a food group

Scoring
Give yourself 0 points for every "a" answer, 5 points for every "b" and 10 points for every "c". If your score total is:

• less than 25: you're definitely not MTM
• 25-50: you have some MTM-ish tendencies, but there is still hope
• 50-75: you're more like MTM than you ought to be
• above 75: leave your name and number; sometimes when my wife leaves for a while, I need a substitute

Please post your results in the comments.

The G Word And The A Words

Thanks to everyone who commented on yesterday's post. I really appreciate you taking the time to share your thoughts. The thing is, I don't know whether I should be encouraged or disheartened by the knowledge that this is an age thing and not a sibling thing. It would be a lot easier if it was my fault, because then I could fix it.

Good - Better Than Ezra
One of the things about reading a lot of parenting blogs is you get to see a lot of the worst in children. A parent is more likely to write about all the shit their child does that drives them insane than the remarkable stuff that makes them proud. Likely borne out of a desire to avoid bragging, it often shows kids in a less-than-ideal light.

Despite what I wrote yesterday I still obviously (at least I hope it is obvious) love my daughter. I think she's awesome and amazing and a lot of fun to be around (most of the time). Things could be a lot more difficult around here, if she wanted them to be.

For example, ever since we took her out of her crib, we have never had to worry about her leaving her room without permission. In the earliest days, she actually fell asleep at her doorway (after repeatedly being told it was time for sleep and that she had to remain in her room) rather than come find us. Recently, we had to give her explicit permission to go to the bathroom in the night without calling for help (because I sleep like the dead and MTM often ends up co-sleeping with Buddy).

She also is not the kind of kid who darts off in public places. I've seen parents have to chase their kids around stores (or worse, parking lots) and I am forever grateful that I don't have to.

Finally (I could go on and on, but there's no point), she is not the type of kid who will dump a bottle of syrup on the kitchen floor, or write messages on the walls with a sharpie, or do anything that destructive. I've seen and heard about the damage kids can do (hell, when I was two I dumped an entire bottle of Crown Royal all over my grandparents' hardwood).

Bottom line, for all the complaining I did yesterday, she is a pretty great kid overall. That's probably at least part of what drove me to write yesterday's post: it's disorienting when she does normal kid stuff.

What about you? What things have you heard about other kids doing that your kid (thankfully) doesn't? What, by virtue of its absence from their repertoire, makes your kid a "good kid"? Go on, brag... I'm telling you to. It'll feel really good.

The S Word (and a little of The B Word too)

Bad - U2
On Saturday morning, Munchkin and I got up and went to her ballet class (in my car, using the booster seat, which is a huge treat for her, or at least it was until Sunday when we moved Buddy out of his infant carrier and into the larger car seat, putting Munchkin into her booster permanently). I made her an extra-special post-ballet snack (undiluted apple juice in a drink box and a tub of goldfish, almonds, honey roasted peanuts, raisins and a few chocolate chips) and we went on a few errands, just her and I, instead of going home to pick up MTM and Buddy.

Within a half an hour of being home, while I was trying to engage Buddy, she threw a fit when she couldn't take over my little game with him. I don't mean she got upset and pouted, I mean she completely lost her shit and was crying like someone had swatted her in the head with a mallet.

I tried to explain to her that she had a special fun morning with Daddy, and that while I am her Daddy and I love her and she is my special girl and my princess, I am also Buddy's Daddy. I clarified, saying that I understood that it was hard for her to have to share my time with Buddy, but that she needed to realize that she got a great morning with me, and she wasn't acting like she appreciated it.

On Sunday, I took her out for a Daddy-daughter date to our regular breakfast place (for the first time in a while), and afterward we again did more errands (including random browsing of a toy section at a department store and riding demo bikes) just the two of us before heading home. When we got there, she was fine for the first hour because MTM gave her an opportunity to watch tv.

But, after MTM had to ask her the same question three times, and then another question three times while she was chastising her for the first incident, I stepped in and made her turn off the tv immediately. (OK, I did a poor job of describing the circumstances... you know how when a kid is watching tv and they zone out and you have to call them repeatedly to get their attention? That's what happened the first time, and while MTM was explaining why that's not OK to her, my daughter zoned out to the tv again.) Once more, she snapped, this time getting so bad I had to ask her to leave and go to her room to calm down before returning.

Once she had somewhat settled herself, I pointed out that even though she and I had an amazing morning together, she wiped it all away by acting like she did when we turned the tv off, acting like that (the tv) was all that happened.

It's been a long time coming, but I think the bloom is finally off the rose as far as Munchkin is concerned with her baby brother.

(And before I go any futher, no, this is not a recent development, so it has nothing to do with the time change this weekend, which, incidentally, is kicking my ass. In the words of Homer Simpson, "Stupid farmers.")

For the past few weeks, maybe a bit longer, I have noticed a change in our daughter. She is no longer the patient and understanding little helper for Mommy that she once was. Now, there is resentment (although it manifests itself in different ways) and frustration.

She acts spoiled (fuck I hate that word, and I hate it when kids act spoiled, much less my own) and can even be considered a brat at times (again, fuck, I hate admitting this). I understand that she's only (not quite) four, and that this sort of jealousy and frustration is normal, but is it too much to expect her to appreciate what she has? Is it beyond her capabilities to see that we (both MTM and I) are making efforts to include her and make her feel special? Why does one thing not being her way ruin what is otherwise a fantastic weekend for most kids? Is it our fault? Did we set her expectations too high when she was an only child, so that the inevitable drop-off in time and attention seems worse to her?

And most importantly, how do we make it stop? We're already making efforts to give her one on one time as it is, and I feel like giving her more would only encourage the behaviour.

Please, share your stories of how your older ones handled the addition of a new sibling, and what steps you took to make things go as smoothly as you could. I am really curious to read your comments to this one.

Signs

Because I couldn't decide which version (the original, or the more popular cover) of today's song to use, you get both. You're welcome.

Signs
It should come as no surprise to anyone (well, anyone who actually visits this site and doesn't just lurk in their feed reader... seriously, what is up with you people? I'm looking at you, Mr. Husband of "RHW", whose wife just broke the comment barrier for the first time this week. Is it so difficult to comment?) that I am fond of astrology. (What? This comes as a shock to some of you? Look at the header image. There. See that sun looking thingy? That would be a zodiac calendar permanently etched into my arm.)

So, with me having a massive case of writer's block and yet unable to just admit defeat and not post today it being Friday and all, I decided to share a site with all of you that I found a while back. It's a horoscopes page from BabyCenter that focuses on parents and children. You can look at your sign as a parent, or your child's sign as a child, or your relationship to your child or your spouse, even the relationship between two siblings. Personally, I think it's pretty fascinating to see how accurate some astrology can be (even though some argue that you can find accuracy in any horoscope if you look hard enough).

For example, I'm a Gemini and my wife is a Sagittarius. According to their charts:

Your family life could resemble one long freewheeling adventure, at least if you two have your say about it! Together, you'll value education, curiosity, learning, and personal freedom. You wouldn't want your kids to be tied down, ordered around, or restricted any more than you'd sign up for it yourselves. This unconventional attitude can lead to a rather loud, messy, and fun-loving household -- not that you care what anyone else thinks!

Between you two, the Gemini parent tends to be more detail oriented, communicative, and changeable. You're lively, social, and with your networking skills, you soon know all the parents of your children's friends.

The Sagittarius mom or dad, on the other hand, seeks the bigger picture and seizes on opportunities to expand the family's world. You'll drag your kids off to foreign lands -- or at least to foreign films. The more they learn, you figure, the better off they'll be.

I would say that's pretty accurate, at least for me. I don't see MTM taking the kids to foreign films though, because she hates subtitles.

Another example is Munchkin (Aries) and Buddy (Libra) as siblings:

Could these two kids be any more different? Your Libra child is sweet and affectionate to the point of being clingy, but not your Aries child, who has been vigorously independent almost since birth.

These two get along well enough, mainly because your Libra, a natural-born people-pleaser, does whatever it takes to keep things smooth with his Aries sibling. In fact, you may have to intervene repeatedly to make sure your Aries child isn't running all over little Libra!

Maybe it's a good thing for your Libra child to have an Aries in the family: He'll certainly learn that conflict is an inevitable part of life. Make sure, however, that sibling rivalry doesn't get out of hand between these two. With hotheaded Aries's hair-trigger temper and sensitive Libra's instinctive avoidance of confrontation, it's up to you to keep your children using their words.

It's too early to tell about this one, honestly. Buddy does seem to be very interested in getting people to smile, so that might be a manifestation of a "need to please". As for Munchkin? I wouldn't call her independent, at least not at this stage.

So what about your thoughts on astrology: complete truth, total nonsense, or somewhere in between? Regardless of how you feel, take a moment to click over and see how accurate the predictions are for you and your kids, or you and your spouse and let me know in the comments what you think of the site.

The Genetics Of An Internal Clock

Wake Up - Three Days Grace
While I love sleep, I am not someone who needs a lot of it. Most nights I get around six hours or so, which isn't an insignificant amount, but is certainly less than what some people need or get. I've always been this way. As a little kid, I was up before my father left for the morning shift at the plant. Even in university, I was up and at school by 7.30am most days, even though class didn't start for another hour. Even now on weekends I wake up around 6.00am. I can get myself back to sleep for 20 minutes intervals or so, but it's never a restful sleep after that.

MTM needs a lot more sleep than me. Before we had kids, she would be in bed a good hour or two before me, and would sleep in another couple of hours, assuming she had the luxury of that much time in her schedule. Nursing both kids has been difficult for her.

Munchkin is an early riser. We have tried shifting her bed time but all that accomplishes is making her even more tired since she always wakes up around the same time. We have recently started to try and combat this by enforcing a rule that she cannot leave her bedroom before 7.00am; she's allowed to get out of bed and read or play with the toys in her room, but she cannot go watch tv or disturb MTM. Some mornings are better than others, but overall it has been working for us. However, she has yet to actually sleep during this time. Her internal clock still gets her up before 6.00am.

Recently, Buddy has been growing out of the newborn sleep anywhere, anytime thing and into a more structured sleep schedule. Whether it's this new schedule, or a combination of new schedule and eating solids, Buddy has started waking up for the day before 6.00am. He nurses, and MTM tries to get him back to sleep, but he is wide awake, ready for the day. One day last week I brought him downstairs with me, where he happily yelped in his exersaucer for an hour while I worked on my laptop until I had to leave the house.

With two kids displaying very similar sleep habits to their father, we are beginning to wonder if the internal clock is something inherited genetically. Is it possible that, albeit indirectly, I am responsible for the fact that MTM is chronically sleep deprived by the kids? Do your kids have your sleep habits?

My Yesterday

Today is one of those posts where I stand at the base of a road for a while, debating the route, and end up just starting off without an actual destination in mind. I might be brief, I might be verbose, I might be completely incoherent.

Breathe - U2
For longer than I care to think about it (at least a week, probably close to two) at least two of the four of us has been some form of sick. MTM has had it the worst, at least until this week, when Munchkin came down with a really bad cough and was generally just sick (lethargic, achy, congested, coughing).

I felt badly when I said good bye to her, barely able to breathe for the congestion in her sinuses, so badly that I even considered staying home from work (for things that I could really not afford to miss). But then I realized that if we were both working outside the home, and one kid (or in this case, both kids) were sick, one of us would take a sick day and the other would still go to work. It's not like I suddenly felt OK with the whole situation, or that I thought to myself, Tough shit, you're the SAHM, you have to deal with this, but it did make me feel less bad about not staying home to take care of everyone (add to this the fact that I was - am - sick myself).

(The above is a post fragment. I have had that thought - about feeling guilty but realizing that if we were both working out of the home things would be different - for a week or so now, but I couldn't flesh it into a full-fledged post.)

*    *    *
Yesterday, my scheduled work got cut short by someone with a genius idea to change a key aspect of the design after we had tested and verified everything, and of course, the change created more problems, which meant that 80% of what I needed to do couldn't be done. Bottom line: I was back home by 1.30pm, arriving home to find a very lethargic wife feeding a dozy baby (who was getting sick himself), and a preschooler unconscious on the sofa watching television. On the table beside her was a half-empty (some would say half-full, but I wouldn't, not after what I would later endure) glass of grape juice, her fluid of choice this day.

I was excited. The new U2 came out yesterday, and MTM had picked up a copy for me us. (I like it at first listen, but won't be able to place it in my personal hierarchy - Achtung Baby at the top, Zooropa at the bottom - until a few more times through. Today's song is from the new CD, by the way.)

Half a day off from work. New CD from my favourite band. This was looking like a good day.

(That? That, up there? That would be irony, or foreshadowing, or hubris, or some other literary tool I am too ignorant to identify properly in my traumatized state.)

Buddy got fussy, and since MTM was busy cooking, I took him upstairs for what I thought would be a routine non-poopy diaper change.

*    *    *
"Oh no! You went poo!"

"Stop smiling. This is not something you should be proud of. You should feel shame! Shame for what you have done!" (Note that I joke around like this with him all the time. He thinks it's hillarious.)

"OK, and we wipe, and we wipe, and we wipe again because the wipe isn't coming out the same colour it went in. And, wait! No! Don't grab that! Buddy! Doesn't that hurt? If you don't stop that you're going to go blind!"

"Just you wait until I tell Mommy what you did!"

"Oh yeah, I forgot to mention, he found his penis today."

"Thanks for the tip."

*    *    *
We had chicken soup and biscuits for dinner that night. Chicken soup with alphabet noodles and carrots. Munchkin didn't much care for the biscuits. She stopped eating after telling us that her stomach hurt when she coughed. We chalked it up to her straining her abdominal muscles. She tearfully asked for cuddles as we left the table, and I took her to the sofa, sat her beside me, covered us with a (fuzzy beige) blanket, and wrapped my arm around her.

Now would be the time where I mention that as a toddler, Munchkin had trouble falling asleep alone, and when we tried to show her a little tough love, she would cry. She would cry really hard. When she cries really hard, she coughs. When she coughs a lot, she has a tendency to vomit.

Yeah.

Purple. Orange. Bits of white that looked way more like maggots than I needed them to. And the smell? That smell, the one that only parents of a puky toddler truly know. I don't care how many college buddies you put in the recovery position, or how many mornings you drove the porcelain bus in your first trimester. There is nothing like that smell.

Somehow, I managed to not vomit myself, despite having it on my arms. I had to breathe through my mouth as I carried the blanket and other collateral damage to the basement.

*    *    *
And today? I'm at work in a meeting all day, a meeting that won't end early (and will likely keep me later than my usual time). And I've got to say, that I feel bad for leaving MTM alone with two sick kids.

But I'm also kind of glad I'm in a low-risk situation as far as the preschooler vomit goes.

Marriage As A Partnership

Beside You In Time - Nine Inch Nails
Ever since MTM and I have lived together, we have made most decisions as a couple. We view our relationship as a partnership, where each person has an equal say and equal input into a decision.

Of course, there are some things that we just let the one person make the call. For instance, she doesn't often check with me about what sort of shampoo we use, or the colours of the drapes, and I don't confirm with her before I update the computer or top up the fluids in the cars. That isn't to say that we run everything by each other, but if it's a big thing, something of significance involving the kids or whatever, we tend to talk it over before making any sudden decisions.

(And lest you have an idyllic perspective of our marriage, let the record show that one day I recently came home and she handed me a bowl of orange coloured puree with instructions to feed it to Buddy. When I asked what it was, she told me it was squash, and when I commented that I was surprised we were introducing something new at dinner instead of lunch, she informed me that he had eaten it for lunch that day, completely unbeknownst to me. So, I guess the more accurate perspective is we usually check in for the big decisions. Ahem.)

Now, I know that not everyone's marriage is like this, but I would expect that for really big decisions, especially those that involve significant sums of money and one's kids, people would converse before coming to a decision.

Last week at ballet class, a mom pointed out a new flyer advertising summer camps through the dance school. For the kids in Munchkin's age range, it was called a "Princess Dance Camp". Hmm, I thought to myself, I have to remember to mention that to MTM when we get home and see what she thinks. I didn't mention it to Munchkin, lest MTM disagreed with me that it was a good idea and then we'd have to explain why we weren't doing it.

To my surprise, the mom asked her kid as they were getting changed after class if she wanted to go to princess camp this summer. Thankfully, Munchkin didn't hear her. However, when I got home I remarked to MTM that I was surprised since if the dad didn't think it was a good idea (or they couldn't afford it or whatever), he'd be the bad guy now because the mom had already put it out there. Maybe that was her intention, to force his hand or leverage a position to ensure that her daughter got to go to the camp, but I don't think so.

What say you, internets? Do you check with your spouse about stuff, or do you guys run independently? How does it work for you? And, what do you think is the norm: the way MTM and I are, or the independent decision makers?

Buddy At Five Months

Food, Glorious Food - Oliver Twist
Dear Buddy:

As cliche as it sounds, I don't know where the time has gone, but yesterday you celebrated your five month birthday, my little man.


(Incidentally, I tried to get a major sporting event to mark the date like last time, but neither the NBA nor the NHL would move their All-Star game.)


This month, you have truly gone from newborn to infant. You hold your head up steadily, you make eye contact, you babble. But the biggest event in your young life this month is the fact that you eat. You eat food. So far, you have tried (and devoured) rice, oats, and squash (in various combinations). You have even had th squash "whole" via a mesh feeder (which, you are too lazy to hold yourself, so lucky Daddy gets to stand there and hold it to your face, getting semi-digested squash all over my hand while I try to eat my dinner... never say Daddy doesn't love you). Unfortunately, the rice? Well, it leaves you feeling a little constipated:


In other news, your strength continues to grow. You can now out muscle Mommy for your spoon during dinner (and no I am not exaggerating). Like your Daddy, pity the fool who gets between you and your dinner.


You have also continued to develop your baby signing both in accuracy (as in, Mommy and I can now usually get what you're signing for) and vocabulary (you now sign for "eat" continuously consistently). We're working on other signs with you, but you're taking your time, often not even acknowledging the new ones until you're ready to.


Sleeping has improved as well since you have been eating solids, leading us to conclude that you were just suffering from neglect hungry and not a crappy sleeper. You now have a good four to five hour stretch (unfortunately, it's from 6.30pm to around the time Mommy actually goes to bed), and are not getting up every hour in the night (more like every two - dude, you have got to work on that).


You recognize me now, and actively try to engage me in conversation as soon as I set foot in the room you are in. You lean forward in your chair or exersaucer, armed with a wide mouthed gummy (and slobbery) grin, and yelp at me until I make some sound or say "Hi" in a sing-song tone. It makes me feel so good to know that you know me, that you like me and are happy to see me when I get home from work.


You are such an amazing little guy, Buddy. I am so proud of everything you are doing, and I love watching you grow and figure out this world we live in. You are always watching, even when it doesn't appear you are (like today when you were staring at your big sister so intently, little did we know you were watching her hands as they hit the ladybug on your exersaucer, too... we only realized you were watching her when you were left alone and started whacking it yourself, incessantly, trying to make it play music like Munchkin did). I love you, my little friend.


Finally, for those concerned about Buddy's gastro-intestinal distress, I offer the following clip that was supposed to be a little birthday interview but turned into... well... that sound you hear around 26 seconds in? That's the sound of relief.)