i liked it at the beginning... then it just got "Married With Children" woman bashing-booring... so this one i did not like.
Since I could not email this anonymous commenter to find out whether they felt the serial or just the last installment was "woman bashing", I have chosen to address it here.
Nothing could be further from the truth than to say Neglectimommy is woman bashing. First of all, the title of the comic is The Totally Untrue Adventures of Neglectimommy - catch that word? UNTRUE. Fictional. Made-up. As in, not about anything real. Secondly, the purpose of the comic is to provide an exaggerated commentary on the perception of blogging women: namely, that they all just sit on their computers all day and ignore the life going on around them. Of course that isn't realistic. Comedy isn't necessarily meant to be realistic; sometimes it is meant to be a skewed caricature of reality. Bottom line: I make these to be funny, not offensive. If you're offended, let me know. If you're not offended, please let me know as well. I need a barometer.
Without further ado, I give you Neglectimommy Volume 3: Dinner:
After nearly eight months of wondering and guessing, of trying to get him to make monosyllabic utterances to indicate his wants, of teaching him sign language, I concluded that my methods of acquiring information from Buddy needed serious improvement.
So, I did what any normal, rational engineer would do: I built a baby mind reading device. Unfortunately, the data is not streamed (for simplicity's sake it dumps to a flat text file that is stored on a flash memory card, and you don't want to know where it's stored). So, here is the output of the first text file retrieved from the drive.
"Ahh... the soothing smell of Daddy's armpit. Now I can sleep."
"Want boob. Want BOOB! WANT BOOB! WANT BOOB!!"
"I love it when my sister sings to me... wait, where did she go? Ah, there she is! I love it when my sister... wait, where did she go?"
"Just... need... to... avoid... belly... almost... there... Ah! Sweet wonderful foot! nom nom nom..."
"Maybe if I start for his nose... closer... closer... BAM! I've got the glasses! Now to lick them before he snatches them away!"
"There was a Cheerio on the tray, but now it's gone. Where did it go? Wait... what's that on my finger?"
"Ooh, Daddy's sitting me on his tummy. Bounce, bounce, bounce. I love bouncing! Uh oh, my tummy doesn't feel so good..."
"Jump. Jump. Jump. I love my exersaucer. Jump. Jump. Jump. Hey, Daddy! I'm smiling at you! Smile back!"
"Bath! Yay! I love bath time! Splash! Splash! Argh, damnit! I got myself in the eye. Splash! Splash! Uh oh... no diaper... oh well."
"There's Daddy holding that baby again. The baby always waves at me when I wave, and he always gets tickles at the same time too!"
"Hey! Mouth open! Hey! Mouth open! Hey! Mouth open! How hard is it to put food in here?"
"Dude, Daddy just made that stuffed dog bark. He's like a wizard or something."
With such spectacular results from my invention, I'm tempted to try it on Munchkin or even MTM. Do you think that would be ethical?
(Now, RHW, is this science fiction or not? I mean, the mind reading technology is central to the story, isn't it?)
On Sunday, MTM took the kids outside while I was busy doing data backups. Almost immediately, Munchkin got invited to a neighbour's house to watch a DVD with her and another girl.
(Aside: This neighbour is the only girl on our street that is Munchkin's age. They are in ballet together, and will attend JK at the same school in the fall. We have requested that they put the girls in the same class in an effort to ease their transition. Unfortunately, the girls have yet to connect as friends despite being practically next door neighbours. Munchkin is willing, and tries desperately, but the other girl just isn't interested. From the "not her parent" perspective, this girl isn't really social with anyone though.)
In light of our socialization concerns, we decided that it made more sense for Munchkin to "play" with the neighbour girl (and a third girl who is also in their ballet class) indoors rather than get some needed fresh air.
When MTM heard them playing outside, she went around back to check in with Munchkin and offer to watch the kids so our neighbour didn't have to supervise them all afternoon. At that point, our neighbour informed MTM that Munchkin told her that she never has any playdates anymore now that Buddy is around.
MTM told me this when they got home. My thought process went something like this:
I feel like a shitty parent.
On the plus side, it's good that she told someone how she was feeling rather than internalize it
But why, oh why did it have to be that neighbour, Mrs. Judgy McJudgerson?!?
(Because even my daughter's problems are all about me, you know.)
Also, this wasn't an isolated incident. On Monday, our RMT asked her what life was like with a little brother. Her response? "You play by yourself a lot."
It would appear that the bloom is coming off the rose that is a new baby brother. Oh well, at least it lasted nearly eight months. (Yes really! Buddy will be eight months old on Monday.)
Here's the thing: we make an effort to do things "just for her" as much as is possible. Usually that means Daddy-daughter stuff because MTM is still nursing Buddy, and during the day she's alone with the kids while I'm at work. Ballet class is (save for a few "special" times) just the two of us, and often includes some post-class errands (where she usually "convinces" me to buy something Mommy would never allow). She's also generally in control of a lot of the evening activities (bath, books, tv, cuddles) as far as whether she's alone or with Buddy, again with me as her primary parent. Ironically, Sunday morning (that would be before the first incident) we had a Daddy-daughter date for breakfast at her request.
I think (and it sucks to have to acknowledge this) that "no playdates" and "playing by yourself" translates into "no Mommy-Munchkin time", or more succinctly, "time with Daddy is nice and all, but it doesn't count". Sigh.
That aside, the harsh reality is that life after Buddy cannot be the same as life before him. There are still two parents, but now there are two kids. Eventually, the balance of time (from her perspective) may shift back to what it was, with MTM taking more time with Munchkin and Buddy getting me, but for now it is what it is. Try as we might, we have not yet been able to bend space and/or time to our whim.
In the meantime, all we can do is try and schedule more Mommy-Munchkin time, which has gotten easier as Buddy becomes more attached to me. That's not to say that we don't have times where all he wants is MTM and my presence merely exacerbates his wailing, but we're better than we once were.
I figure this is fairly typical of older children. Did your first child have issues about not getting enough time with the primary or at-home parent? How did you go about dealing with it? How are things now? (Please tell me it gets better, even if you have to lie to me.) And also, how am I to stop myself from calling that woman Judgy McJudgerson to her face? It's getting harder and harder these days.
It may surprise some (all?) of you to learn this, but I have a tendency to be shy around new people. I'm probably more easily coaxed out of my shell than my wife because I'm more comfortable discussing (arguing?) about politics, religion, sports, or current events, and therefore can more easily join in a conversation.
My daughter, while an amazingly sweet and kind child, can also be painfully shy around other kids if she doesn't know them. She desperately wants to play with them, but she doesn't know how to communicate this. Often what ends up happening is she plays with children much younger than herself because they can pick up on her non-verbal cues (standing nearby, offering to hold hands by extending one's arm) than the older ones. When she does get the courage to ask to join in, they will usually accept her, but she doesn't know how to immerse herself and ends up staying at the periphery and is eventually excluded because she doesn't appear involved.
I watched this happen to her twice over the weekend. On Friday night we were at a playground at our local mall while MTM shopped. At first, Munchkin was content to run around and use the equipment by herself, but she then tried to engage a group of three sisters - the middle one was relatively close to her age - and ended up upsetting them because she tried to pick up the youngest one. (In her defense, she had seen the others baby the youngest. I called her over and explained that she wasn't to touch other kids, and rationalized that she wouldn't want them picking up Buddy.) On Saturday, we were at a different mall (it was shopapalooza - or, SciFi Dad's a Losah, depending on your perspective - weekend), and I watched a similar story unfold: she tried to join into a game of hide and seek, only to end up following one of the kids around rather than actually playing.
When I look at the situation objectively (or at least as objectively as a father can), I think part of her challenge is the fact that she's a touchy-feely kid. She's always good for a hug, even if you've just met her, and she always wants to hold hands while you run somewhere. I sense that most kids aren't like that, at least not with other kids, and perhaps she scares them off or weirds them out with her overly affectionate instincts. I know her lack of initiative and confidence in social arenas is another contributing factor: she needs their acceptance before she can join in rather than just joining in and more or less "forcing" them to accept her. (OK, not "forcing", but basically just getting involved and showing that she doesn't need their approval.)
I had few friends in school; being smart and funny looking isn't a ticket to social success. I tried to make friends with people, but for the most part I failed in my endeavours. I had a few (literally three) close friends that I would see outside the school, save for the people who only hung out with me because they needed my academic help.
I worry about her come September. Being without MTM (who has been a constant in her daily life since birth as a SAHM) is going to be difficult enough without repeating her social gaffes from the playground in the classroom. I have started to tell her that we keep our hands to ourselves unless the other person gives us permission, but that doesn't stop her from asking to hold hands, and I don't want her to suppress everything. I have also tried to encourage her to just ask other kids if she can join in, but she won't do it unless I prod her, and instead spends a lot of time watching groups of other kids playing while she stands aside by herself. I would hate for her to go through that all day at school.
What about you and your kids? Are they shy? How are you working with that? Are they outgoing? How did you encourage that part of their personality? And those with formerly shy kids who are now the life of the party: please share your secrets.
Last week, Munchkin's future school had a welcome to Kindergarten night for parents and students. The intention was for the kids to learn a little bit about what life would be like come September, and for parents to have an opportunity to ask some questions of the staff. Many lessons were learned that evening.
Appearances Can Be Deceiving As they gathered the parents and kids together, I stood near the back. I noticed a boy who was in a jogging stroller, but appeared old enough to be in JK. He smiled at me somewhat vacantly, and I smiled back, and guessed he was delayed. I asked him if he was starting Kindergarten in the fall, and his father replied that no, not this year. The "boy" was nine months old. I swear he could have passed for over three if he could stand. Then I realized giant boy would be in Buddy's class, and hoped he learned the word "gentle" before that.
Teachers Are Not Boy Scouts In other words, preparedness is not their strong suit. In no particular order:
It was scheduled to start at 6.00pm. We arrived ten minutes early to find a teacher pacing the building trying to get in. Apparently no one had a key and the school was completely locked up. We were finally let in around 6.10pm.
Upon entering, we found a small booklet with Munchkin's name on it at a table. We took it and then stood around for another ten minutes until they directed us to sit at the benches, which were sufficient for less than half the people that were there.
The point of the evening was to introduce Kindergarten activities to the kids. They had the kids in four groups (their starting station was based on the colour on their little booklet), but once they instructed us to switch, no one knew which way to go.
MTM had a host of questions, which she asked the various teachers running the stations. One of the teachers that will be teaching Kindergarten in the fall did not know they are not doing staggered entry, and some of the staff gave conflicting information. In some ways, we left more confused than when we arrived.
Competimommies Are Everywhere Two of the stations were fine: the play-dough and the books. The other two were a different story. As I said, the purpose was to give the kids a glimpse of Kindergarten life. Apparently, cut-throat competition will be a part of Munchkin's.
At the cut, draw and paste station, parents were pushing little Timmy to print his name, and then admonishing them when it wasn't straight. These kids were at most four years old. I was impressed they could spell their names, let alone print them. And of course, they were all, "Now go show teacher what you did," which shows them that it's all about praise from the teacher and not the accomplishment itself.
At the magnetic alphabet table, I overheard one mother saying, "Yes, I know this is boring, honey. You know all your letters. But other kids mommies don't spend as much time with their kids as I do with you." Are you fucking kidding me? Maybe some parents know that they will be in school for the next 14 years or more, and see no purpose in making their childhood a classroom.
My Time Is Nearly Worthless A few weeks ago, I spent a fair bit of my weekend on my FIL's laptop. In fact, prior to my miraculous workings, he was prepared to scrap the machine and purchase a new one to the tune of around $500. When he picked up his repaired laptop, he said he wanted to show his appreciation to me by buying me a case of beer. When they came over to watch Buddy while we went to this Kindergarten thing, he brought me a six pack.
Now, on the one hand, we are technically family, so no token of appreciation is required. This would be true if they treated me like family. However, it has been well documented here that they do not.
On the other hand, I am of the belief that there is a basic man code: if it's friends or family, when one guy does another guy a favour (helps build something, helps move furniture, does repairs, et cetera), the nice thing to do is get the helpful guy a case of beer (or a 40oz of liquor, depending on their tastes). Bottom line, when you're buying a guy booze to thank him, you don't get him a six pack or a mickey.
Yes, maybe I sound greedy, but honestly it would probably have bothered me less if he had done nothing as opposed to purchasing me six fucking bottles of beer for the not so insignificant slice of my weekend I gave him. It was a slap in the face.
My daughter won't stay in her chair during dinner time. She keeps getting up, wandering around, and it takes forever to get her to finish eating. What can I do?
Signed, Desperate For Faster Meals
Dear Desperate,
Have you considered that the problem isn't your daughter, but rather what you're serving her? Instead of the tofu baloney wrapped celery stalks with a wheat grass milkshake, you should offer her actual food! Dinner can be healthy and not taste like you're licking the floor of a barn.
Alternatively, do you have any duct tape?
Dear SciFi Dad,
What is the greatest science fiction movie of all time?
Signed, SciFi Dumbass
Dear Dumbass,
Although there are a number of excellent science fiction movies available to choose from, I would have to say that Star Wars: Episode V - The Empire Strikes Back is the best. The film represents the best combination of technical, dramatic and directorial elements of any of the six films (which are in my opinion the gold standard for science fiction films). Yes, it is dark, and yes it has gruesome elements. However, there are many landmark moments (Vader reveals himself as Luke's father, the introduction of the Imperial March and Boba Fett, the uncertainty about Han Solo) which make it the best.
Others in my list (excluding the other five Star Wars movies, of course): The Matrix (if we pretend the sequels never happened), Planet of the Apes (1968), Gattaca, Twelve Monkeys, Starship Troopers, and Contact.
Dear SciFi Dad,
My baby's poop is really messy. It gets everywhere, it sticks to evetything, and is nearly impossible to clean. Oh, and it stinks too. What can I do?
Signed, Drowning In Poo
Dear Drowning,
It must be wonderful to be you, someone whose shit comes out wrapped in plastic wrap scented with lavender, because the rest of us have shit that stinks and is a pain in the ass (oh yes I went with the pun) to remove.
Basically, there are three types of soiled diapers:
Wet - these are the ones you pause and give praise for, rare they be, but not for too long lest the baby pee in your face
Poopy - one to n wipes, where n is the number of months old the child is
Crappageddon - don't even bother wiping; put the baby in the bathtub, remove the diaper, and use the shower hose as a bidet
Dear SciFi Dad,
Does this look infected?
Signed, My Country Has No Universal Health Care
Dear Disease-Ridden Reader,
Listen, if it looks bad enough that you're asking a daddyblogger, it's probably infected. Now take your pus secreting ass somewhere else, please.
Dear SciFi Dad,
My wife nags me all the time. Is there anything I can do?
Signed, No I Did Not Take Out The Garbage
Dear No,
Unfortunately, I have no idea what you're talking about. I love my wife.
.flesreh ti fo tsom od ll'ehs ,ssenlli ngief ro ,hguone gnol sgniht evael uoy fI .erac ot dneterp dna pu ti kcus tsuj ,emitnaem eht nI .revo semit lareves erianoillim gnikcuf a eb d'uoy ,pots ti ekam ot woh tuo erugif nac uoy fI .meht sgan efiw s'enoyrevE !esaelP
If you enjoyed this and would like it to be an actual "Ask SciFi Dad" segment, feel free to email me your questions at talesfromthedadside [at] gmail [dot] com, or leave your questions in the comments here.
I wrote a post about this subject for another blog I used to write for a while back. However, since that time some things have changed, and I feel like I can sort of rehash this topic without completely repeating myself. (In other words, dear long-time reader, no you are not having deja vu.)
When MTM was pregnant with Munchkin, almost everyone - including both of us - thought that she was carrying a boy. (Interesting aside: the one person who didn't was our practically shut-in next door neighbour who moved a month before Munchkin was born, without leaving a forwarding address, so she never knew she was right.) This provided a sense of relief, at least to me (and probably my dad, although neither of us would admit it) that I had "done my job" as the lone male with my surname in Canada, and the name would carry on. When Munchkin was born a girl, we were surprised. Not disappointed; just surprised.
MTM and I had always wanted more than one child, so our decision to try for a second was never about carrying on my surname. Did we hope it was a boy? Yes, but not so that my surname carried on in Canada. It was more about having "one of each", about the different experience raising a son would bring. Was I relieved that I had "done my job"? Sadly, yes, but I was more excited about having a little man to balance out the gender situation (both sides of the family were predominantly female).
Now, with Buddy approaching eight months, and a number of men in the blogosphere undergoing the snip, the idea of a third child has just started to creep into conversations between my wife and me. We have not made any decisions; we haven't really even talked talked, but the prospect of more lingers in the air. (A big part of it is the slow realization that with each milestone Buddy reaches, "this is the last time that blah blah blah".)
Neither pregnancy was easy for MTM, nor was either delivery (although Buddy's was far better). Pregnancy, delivery, and those initial months post-partum took a lot out of her, and made me worry for her well-being way more than I was comfortable to. From that perspective alone, I am probably more in the "done" camp than even the "maybe" camp.
However, I cannot help but wonder: if Buddy had not been a boy (or if Munchkin had not been a girl for that matter), would I be so confident in my "done" position? Would my desire for "one of each" - the so-called "millionaire family" - overwhelm my need to protect my wife from undue stress? Fortunately for me, I do not have to face that question.
When I look at friends who have three or more children, nearly all of them have the two oldest with the same gender. The exception is one couple whose second and third children were unexpected pregnancies (nope, they didn't learn after the first "oops"), so they don't really fit my profile of couples trying for babies. On the other hand, the bulk of families with only two children have one of each. (Interestingly, but certainly not my focus, all the ones who stayed at two and had the same gender? Boys.) This begs the question: does everyone want "one of each"?
What about in your families, and people in your lives? Are there mostly one of each when the couple has two kids? Do the families with three or more have the same gender for the two oldest? (And while we're at it, the ones with two kids of the same gender: what gender are those kids?)
A lot of times after I hit publish, or after the comment notification emails start coming in from you guys, I feel like such a fake. When I write about parenting here, it is often such an idyllic view (moaning and gnashing of teeth about working parent guilt aside), and I give off the impression that parenting comes so naturally to me. When I read your comments, I get the sense that you think I just a good dad by virtue of who I am, that it is an effortless endeavour.
Nothing could be further from the truth. Being a parent is, by far, the most difficult thing I have ever had to do.
I am, by no one's definition, the most patient man in the world. In truth, I am impatient to a fault. I am impetuous, passionate, and an almost maniacal control freak. Some days it takes every ounce of my will not to snap at a random stranger who cuts me off in traffic.
There are days where I have to convince myself to play dollhouse (the boring kind of dollhouse, not the kind with Echo and Alpha, which, incidentally, got renewed for a second season) with my daughter. She knows that when Daddy is driving that she cannot listen to the same song on repeat over and over. Sometimes I just don't feel like reading her stories or playing tea party or hide and seek.
When Munchkin challenges my authority, or talks back, or doesn't listen when I ask her to do something, I sometimes have to call in MTM in order to avoid completely losing my shit. I find the illogical nature of a preschooler particularly challenging. When I know she knows better and is just testing me, it drives me insane.
A lot of times when Munchkin is telling me another one of her stories (which are more like an exercise in stream of consciousness than anything else) I find myself either completely zoning out or, at a minimum, thinking to myself, please, please let her get distracted by something else. A man can only listen to that many made up stories about a preschooler disciplining a baby version of an adult television character (or whatever).
The situation with Buddy is a little different, simply because of his age. However, I am guilty of trying to cuddle him instead of getting down on the floor to play trucks or "slobber on the soft toys and then throw them at Daddy's face".
It's not that I don't love my kids; I do. I love them tremendously, and I love spending time with them. But sometimes, my desire to be a "good dad" (whatever that means) struggles against my innate nature, my tendency to be impatient, or worse yet, apathetic. Admittedly, my "good dad" instincts usually prevail, but sometimes it takes longer than I feel it should, and other times they don't at all.
Every time I flop down on the couch and feign excessive fatigue in an attempt to convince my daughter to choose another activity, every time I think to myself, if MTM wasn't here, that tv would be on so fast, every time I find myself speechless with frustration and way too close to my breaking point, I feel like shit. I feel like a failure as a father, that for all my efforts to avoid working long hours, and be around my kids, and make them feel like a priority, at my core, my nature isn't to be a good dad. I wonder if my family can see my struggle, and how it makes them feel. I worry that seeing me fight my nature has an impact on them.
Fortunately, another part of my nature is persistence: I find it incredibly difficult to accept failure. So, even though being patient and struggling with all my flaws and imperfections is difficult, it will not push me to give up, because that instinct - avoiding failure at all costs - is even stronger.
I don't know what the answer is. All I can do is keep trying to be the best father I can be, in spite of my nature.
Am I the only parent who feels this way? I don't know. You tell me.
We went to visit my parents (in spite of all four of us feeling various degrees of sick) for the Victoria Day weekend. It was, predictably, difficult. My parents live over four hours away by car, and cannot visit us due to health reasons, so it falls on us to go to them if we want our kids to know their paternal grandparents.
Nine (usually more, especially now that Buddy has unfortunately outgrown the "sleep anywhere, anytime" stage) hours in a car on a weekend is a lot of driving. Doing that every five weeks or so puts a lot of strain on us, on our nuclear family. Add to that the fact that much of the visit is spent discussing either why we are leaving when we are (this weekend is was about us not staying for the statutory holiday and instead coming home on Sunday; other weekends it's about our decision to stop for lunch with my older sister - who lives midway between my parents and home, yet rarely comes to visit us - so Munchkin can visit with her cousins) or when we are coming back, and it's even more challenging.
Instead of acknowledging the efforts we undertake to see my parents as often as we do (many friends say we are crazy for traveling so far with two small kids so often), they instead choose to complain about how little time they get. On top of this, my mother informed us that she will not cancel her weekly Saturday hair appointment when we are coming, which means that Saturday morning is a write-off (and sometimes, depending on her health, the exertion from that hairstylist visit wipes her out for the day). I understand that she doesn't get out of the house except for the hairstylist and her doctor appointments, but if seeing the kids was as important to her as she claims, I think she could "sacrifice" to see them, especially in light of what they endure to be there for her.
It's just frustrating to feel so unappreciated. And when I do say anything, even trying to be indirect and simply point out the financial implications (between toll routes in high traffic times, fuel, and meals on the road, a trip to my parents can cost in excess of $150) I am chastized as the asshole who makes it all about him instead of his sick parents. (I will totally own up to not always being so subtle or indirect. Sometimes I reach a boiling point and I lose it and point out the reality of the situation: that we make huge efforts to come to them as often as we do and they don't appreciate it. That's wrong.)
Is it too much to ask for the occasional thank you, or at least recognizing the fact that we're putting in the effort to get their grandkids to them as much as we do?
* * *
Even in the midst of the above, the weekend did bring forth some moments worth remembering.
On Saturday, after we dropped off my younger sister at her apartment, Munchkin asked, "Daddy, why does [my sister] live in an apartment?"
"Because when people grow up, they move out of their parent's house and get their own place. Just like [MTM's sister]."
"No, that's different: [MTM's sister] has a husband."
"Uhm, no. [MTM's sister] has a boyfriend that she lives with. They're not married."
"But [my sister] doesn't have a boyfriend or a husband."
"No she doesn't, but that doesn't mean she can't have her own apartment. Some people don't have a husband or boyfriend."
We went on like that for quite some time as I tried to give her concrete examples of unattached adults in her life. We concluded that in her opinion, there was no reason to move out of your parent's home until you were with someone. I tried to explain a different opinion, but I don't know if it worked.
That evening, Munchkin asked my mother to read her bedtime story. When they were done, my mother stayed in there talking to her for quite a while. Eventually, MTM called to my mother to let Munchkin get to sleep. After five more minutes, I called in (knowing this would piss off my mother but also knowing that Munchkin needed sleep) and my mother emerged. Apparently, Munchkin had invited my mother to her dance recital, prefacing her invitation with an offer to "take care of" my mother's tubes so she could come to us for the show.
Later that night, I came to take Munchkin from the upstairs bed (where she starts out) to the basement bed (where she sleeps with me to allow MTM and Buddy more freedom for night feeds and diaper changes). As she and I were climbing into bed, she said to me (still half asleep), "When I was a baby inside Mommy's tummy, I wished for a Daddy like you."
* * *
Finally, Sunday was my SIL's birthday. When we called her to have Munchkin sing "Happy Birthday", Munchkin said she had a story for Auntie:
Now, for the record (and to ensure my wife doesn't try to kill me in my sleep), my daughter has never actually watched an episode of The Simpsons. However, one time as a joke when she asked what was for dinner, I told her "khlav kalash and crab juice". As silly jokes tend to do, this became part of our family lexicon, so one day I decided to find the actual clip on youtube. Since then, she has been telling that story to everyone.
For those of you who have no idea what she's talking about, here's the original clip:
Welcome to volume 2 of Neglectimommy. You read about the origins of this serial (and view the first comic) in Volume 1.
Some of you said in the comments last time that the text was too hard to read. This is because my post width is too narrow for a good comic strip, so I made the image larger and put a resized view that you can click to enlarge. So, in order to read the comic, click the image. There's a good chance that your browser will still resize it to fit in a window, so if, after clicking, you can see the whole thing (i.e. there are no scroll bars) then click it again (or right click and select the "view full/original size" option).
Without further ado, I give you Neglectimommy Volume 2: Laundry:
click to enlarge
Yeah, I know - I used the same punch line as last time. I debated using a different one, but I thought that maybe it'd be funnier if it always (or at least often) ended that way. What do you think?
(Also? I am still taking suggestions for a soundtrack for this series.)
I played house league hockey as a young boy for a couple of years. Every Friday evening my father would drive me to my practice or game, and he always had some small tidbit of advice to share with me; some tactic or strategy or idea that he wanted me to try out and see if it made an improvement in my (admittedly weak) performance.
My father understood hockey. He emigrated from Italy, where all he knew was soccer, but he settled in Quebec first, where hockey was king, so he had learned the sport's rules by watching it as often as possible. He had continued to watch the NHL when he moved to Ontario, and was a huge fan, as were (and are) many Canadian men. So, his ideas were sound, and although sometimes poorly considered (such as encouraging boarding in novice level hockey), were generally useful.
Every Saturday morning, I take my daughter to ballet. Right now, it's easy because what she needs to "work" on isn't so much the actual dancing, but moreso the in-class behaviour (listening to the teacher, not telling the teacher or other kids what to do, staying focused on the task at hand and not goofing around, et cetera). However, in a year or two, I will have nothing to offer. My dance "education" begins and ends with two sessions of ballroom dancing at MTM's request (so we could look good at our wedding; which, incidentally, we did as we did the fox trot to "Fly Me To The Moon"), so if she continues I will not be able to impart any knowledge to my daughter.
Now, if she gets into and sticks with sports (she will likely start some sports either in the fall or at the latest next summer; probably soccer and perhaps t-ball or basketball, depending on her interest), I will be able to offer some advice. While I am by no means athletic, I certainly understand the games a lot better (as long as she doesn't choose cricket, which completely baffles me). I'd also be OK with music, even if it isn't a wind instrument (I play saxophone).
But what about all the other things (i.e. things I totally suck at and/or know nothing about) she can be interested in, such as gymnastics or visual art or cheerleading? What if Buddy decides to play cricket or study tap dancing?
A parent is supposed to help foster their child's development. How can I (or any parent, for that matter) teach her about something that I don't understand myself? Sure, I can use the internet to research a passable degree of knowledge about the subject, but that won't help me with the intricacies of it. I can find other teachers, but somehow that feels like passing off my responsibility as a parent.
I know that I cannot know everything about everything. I don't expect to. However, I would like to be able to guide and assist my children in their interests.
What are your thoughts on this subject? What are your strengths? How do you plan to deal with the day that your child wants to do something where you are of no use to them? Am I just being paranoid, or is this something other parents consider or think about?
For those who are interested in such things, there will be a new volume of Neglectimommy posted tomorrow.
One morning last week, Munchkin got up to go pee as I was getting ready for work. She came into our room for a hug before I sent her back to bed with promises of a cuddle before I left for work.
When I climbed into her bed and wrapped my arms around her, she asked, "Daddy, can you please tell me a story of when you were a little boy?"
"Sure."
"Thank you."
"When I was a little boy, our neighbour made costumes for Aunt [younger sister] and me. I was a clown, and she was a princess. (Let's not linger on that thought, shall we?) [My father] was going to take us out, and for a surprise he wore a funny coat and a funny hat and drew a mustache on his face."
"I know why [my father] took you and not [my mother]. It's because of her tubes, right?" (My mother is in exceptionally poor health. She has an oxygen tube 24/7 and a permanent catheter. Since she is usually in sleepwear, she almost always uses a larger hospital style collection bag for the catheter that drags on the floor.)
"No, honey. [My mother] didn't always have tubes. When I was a little boy, she had no tubes, just like Mommy." Fuck. Why did I just say that?!?
"So when I grow up, Mommy is going to have tubes?"
"Nonono... [my mother] has tubes because she's sick. Mommy isn't sick."
"But I know Mommy used to have tubes."
"What?"
"In the hospital, after Buddy was born. Mommy had a tube, just like [my mother]." (MTM had a catheter because of the c-section.)
"Mommy just had that tube for a couple of days because having Buddy was so hard that she couldn't go to the bathroom by herself and she needed that to help her pee so she didn't wet the bed."
"[my mother] has tubes because she is sick."
"Yes."
"Will Mommy get sick?"
"No, honey, I don't think Mommy will get sick like [my mother]." (At this point I was choking up, and am choking up as I type this.)
"OK."
* * *
I worried about how Munchkin would react to my mother once she became aware of things around her, but after a few lessons of, "Don't touch [my mother]'s tubes," she was fine. If anything, her innate empathy made my mother her favourite target for hugs, cuddles, and even the occasional nap.
Now, however, Munchkin is learning and understanding a lot more than she used to. Twice in the past week she has brought up that my mother had tubes when I was a little kid (she didn't get the tubes didn't start until I was out of high school), and each time I correct her, I can see the wheels turning as she processes the new information. I don't want her to worry that the same thing could happen to one of us, but at the same time I feel it's important that she understand that my mother is ill, and that she wasn't always the lethargic and often pathetic woman she visits every other month. I feel like I owe that to my mother.
At this point, I'm going to let Munchkin direct this subject. If she wants to talk about it further, we will, but if she's happy to leave it as is for now, that's OK too. (She has not mentioned the subject of MTM and tubes to either of us since we had that conversation, so we're optimistic.)
I realize that we have a unique situation with my mother's health, but I'm curious how you would handle this subject. Human frailty is something kids have to learn about at some point, right?
When Munchkin was seven months old, she was fully and completely a Mommy's girl. It was understandable: MTM was the SAHM while I was the guy who showed up before dinner and MTM was breastfeeding her at the time. It was completely reasonable for her to prefer MTM over me.
It wasn't until she was around three years old that Munchkin considered me an equal alternative to her mother, and then it was only because we pushed my role to the forefront in anticipation of Buddy's arrival and the knowledge that he would monopolize MTM's time more. Even now, I wouldn't say MTM and I are equal; I would more accurately say that I am a reasonable alternative.
Saturday night was a rough night for Buddy and consequently MTM. Typically, our approach has been that MTM handles the night feeds solo because a) she is breastfeeding and pumping can be more of a nuisance than a timesaver and b) it ensures one of us (me) is coherent enough to care for Munchkin. However, because he was having such difficulty (he was just miserable; there were no real symptoms), she brought him back into our room to rock him in the recliner in the hopes of getting some sleep.
He would not settle for her. He wailed and flailed about, often screaming. At one point I rolled over and reached out to him in the darkness to stroke his hair and soothe him. He stopped crying. I rolled back, thinking he would be OK, and he started crying again. I repeated my hair stroke, and he calmed. I sat up in bed, and asked MTM to pass him to me. He was crying again because I had removed my hand in order to sit up, but once he was in my arms, he stopped. We sat there, him sitting on my chest, for a while, in relative peace (save for happy or contented baby squawks). Eventually (after more effort and position changes than either of us care to remember) he fell asleep in my arms as I rocked him in the recliner.
That would mark the first time I was able to soothe or settle either of our children while MTM stood by as a viable alternative. Every other time, she would be the one to finally slay the grumpy dragon.
My relationship with Buddy has been improving with each passing day. He reaches out of everyone's arms (including MTM's) to get into mine. Sometimes at night when we're watching tv, he will sit contentedly in MTM's arms, but he watches me the whole time. He calls for me when MTM is nursing him before bed, and will sit up and watch me leave the room when I have finished giving him one more cuddle before sleep. He tries to engage me with smiles and yelps and babbling, his bright eyes dancing in his face. He hasn't quite mastered the concept of a hug yet, so I am generally greeted with some powerful smacks across the head and face as he squeals with delight.
It's not that I'm looking a gift horse in the mouth, but I wonder why the situation is so different. In truth, I probably spend less time with Buddy than I did with Munchkin at this age, simply because when she was a baby I didn't have a four year old to attend to. The only conclusions I can come to are either the father-son dynamic is different than the father-daughter one, or his nature is just different. It could also just be that he's the second child, and typically second kids are more likely to be accepting of different people because they have to learn - from birth - how to "share" their parents more than first children.
Whatever the reason, I have to admit to being a pretty proud Daddy right now. It feels pretty good to finally be chosen instead of just the acceptable alternative parent.
What about your kids? When (if they ever have) did the non-primary caregiver become preferred, at least in some cases? Or was it never about who was around more, and the child just always chose one parent?
As I mentioned previously, Munchkin and I worked on a craft for MTM for Mother's Day. My plan was to make a paper vase with paper flowers. Below is a summary of our efforts:
applying decoupage to the base
applying decoupage to one of the cylinders
the finished vase
some flowers were simply cut-outs decorated by Munchkin
while others involved glue
samples of the four types of flowers we made (from left): daisy, tulip, dandelion (Munchkin's favourite flower at the moment), lily (traced Munchkin's and Buddy's hand, cut out, rolled into cone and curled fingers with scissors)
the finished product (card to the left; references to fruit and vegetables relate to drawing of garden on card)
As is usually the case when I'm doing something creative with Munchkin, I struggled with the balance between process (letting her do everything) and product (making sure that the finished product was identifiable and/or "nice"). It is not easy to find that balance, at least for me with a very confident and independent preschooler. Ultimately I did all the cutting (she tried to cut out things I drew for her, but she only ended up getting frustrated with the results) and the pipe cleaner stuff (she tried and couldn't get enough pipe cleaner in there so her flowers fell off their stems). Fortunately, she felt pride and ownership for the whole project, so I guess this time I found the balance for her.
Am I the only parent who struggles with this? Do you tend to fall into the process or product side yourself? (For the record, I am horribly guilty of falling on the product side... it's probably a vanity thing, more than anything else.)
* * *
We learned an important lesson this weekend:
Sick Mommy + Sick Baby = Happy SciFi Dad
No wait. That doesn't sound right. More like:
Sick Mommy + Sick Baby = No Inlaws at Mother's Day = Family Only Mother's Day = Happy SciFi Dad
There. That's more like it.
Long story short, MTM and Buddy had the flu on Friday, so we canceled Saturday's gathering. We spent the weekend taking it easy, and had a nice (small) family dinner on Sunday evening just the four of us. MTM loved her gift, loved her dinner, and seemed like a happy mom, which is all you can really ask for on Mother's Day, right?
So, what about you? How did your Mother's Day go? Big gathering? Small dinner? Did you brave the restaurant crowds?
I also have a review of The Man's Book up, and highly recommend it as a gift for any man in your life. Please check it out.
I have made no secret of how I feel about the job my mother did. (Before you click that link and subsequently scream at me in the comments here or there, I posted a clarification the next day because of how it was received.) To be fair, part of the problem was her health (which was undiagnosed at the time), but a larger part of it (at least from my perspective) was her inclination to put her own wants before the needs of her kids.
When I got older, and the possibility of having kids became more of a reality, I promised myself I would not let my children have a mother like mine. Whether she chose to work or stay at home, they would not feel like they were less important than extended family, or jobs or haircuts and manicures.
MTM was born to be a mom; not a mother (not that there's anything inherently wrong with being a mother), but a mom. Partly through her background (child studies) and her career path (kindergarten teacher) and partly through her nature, she is the mom every child should have.
She has a wealth of ideas when it comes to activities, especially crafts, and she's more than happy to join in the fun (I have come home to immaculately coloured pictures of Dora or a Disney Princess on more than one occasion). She gets kids, and knows how to encourage them to explore new things, or try out different tasks. She even lets our daughter help with cooking and baking, even though it takes two to three times as long.
She puts them in classes that she knows they'll enjoy but will also push their limits. She takes them on excursions to the zoo or an amusement park or apple picking or even just to the library or park. They don't just sit around the house all day.
But MTM isn't a pushover or "fun all the time" parent either. She is more disciplined with television and computer usage (so-called "screen time") than I could ever hope to be. She makes sure that their diets are balanced (if occasionally bacon deficient) and doesn't let them develop bad eating habits that will haunt them later in life.
She has the patience of a saint, and at times where I am already done she is calm and collected and able to be completely rational. She is affectionate and kind and loving. But most of all, she genuinely loves being a mom, taking care of our two children, and that is just one of the many reasons I love her and am so glad I married her.
In light of Mother's Day being this Sunday, I thought I would share some of my favourite blogs written by mothers (calling them mommybloggers seems like an insult these days, for whatever reason). Please take the time to click through and read some of their stuff. You won't be disappointed.
Circle Of Life - Anyone who has read this site for any length of time knows MTM is my wife, so any blogging mom list has to begin with her.
Whiskey in My Sippy Cup - I haven't been reading Mr Lady for very long, but she can be both hilarious and heart wrenching, sometimes in the same post.
The Cheaty Monkey - Haley writes one of the first blogs I commented on, and has remained a good read for years.
Cheaper Than Therapy - I discovered Ali through Haley; she's always good for a dose of pop culture (either from her or her kids).
Working on Perfect - LD has been reading MTM and I since the very beginning. We even met up for fajitas at Lone Star once! She shares everything with unabashed honesty, even if she feels embarrassed by it.
Mommy Wants Vodka - Aunt Becky can be irreverently funny, or wonderfully honest, depending on her mood.
The Caffeinatrix - Also known as IzzyMom, her posts run the gamut from snark to serious, and all points in between.
Native Born - Faiqa is a recent discovery of mine. Her blog is a mixture of parenting and socio-political commentary. (No, her inclusion has nothing to do with her featuring my blog last weekend, thankyouverymuch.)
Karen Sugarpants - Karen writes with a confident honesty I try to emulate in my own writing. She writes with humour and conviction equally well.
Chicky Chicky Baby - Mrs. Chicky tends towards the humourous side, often with photos of her gorgeous daughters, but she can be serious from time to time.
moosh in indy - Casey has a great sense of humour, yet has probably been the one mom here who has brought me to tears reading her posts about secondary infertility.
Diary of a Modern Matriarch - AndreAnna is probably the most prolific blogging mom I know; one of her trademarks is her ability to capture a conversation between her and her husband, or her daughter, with impeccable timing.
Miss Britt - I discovered Miss Britt almost a year ago, and have learned that she can be thought provoking, funny, and entertaining all in one post.
My Life Interrupted - smiles4u is a mom who is raising two of her grandchildren (her "little people"). She has lived through a lot, and her blog is often reflective of that.
The Gratton Grapevine - Mandy writes a funny and often photo loaded blog, and is someone I have been reading for a while.
See the Woods and the trees - Leanne is someone I would call a hidden gem in my reading list. Not a lot of people read her blog, but more definitely should.
Red Headed Wonder - Another hidden gem, and not just because RHW has a Simpsons avatar and writes about comics. She has some exceptionally thought-provoking posts. (Added bonus: through some detail sharing, we determined that her husband's best man was my university lab partner. How's that for six degrees of separation?)
Bear and Bug's Mommy - Heather is a great storyteller, but she has also been known to write very insightful posts on parenting. Her life as an American military wife living in Japan fascinates me.
ZenMom - ZenMom is hard to describe: she can be political or geeky, funny or serious. You really have to read her for yourself.
Gwen Alison Wonderland - Gwen is a very recent addition to my reader, and admittedly some of her stuff is so raw that it's almost hard to read (in a good way).
(If you're not listed here, please don't take offense. I had to pare down the list a little because it got so long.)
Did I miss any? What blogs by moms do you recommend?
With Mother's Day coming up this Sunday (at least here in North America... I just learned this year that people in the UK celebrate it in March or April), MTM and I have been having a number of discussions about plans and the like. As usual, we haven't agreed on everything, and (also as usual) I'm curious as to which one of us is the crazy one has the unique perspective.
Gifts In light of the fact that we are expecting to spend some money (although I am cautiously optimistic that it won't be as much as we initially feared) to repair the leaky basement/sunken patio combo problem, plus the fact that MTM doesn't really need anything, we have agreed to just do handmade crafts for presents for Mother's Day and Father's Day (which, incidentally, falls eight days after my birthday in June... I wonder when the UK people celebrate it?)
For the record, I am not afraid of crafts. In fact, Munchkin and I have been working for over a week on a very time-intensive craft. (Also? Using mod-podge - or more precisely decoupage - with a four year old is a lot more complicated than one would think.)
However, I still feel like I'm copping out by not purchasing a present. I want to buy something, but I feel like we made an agreement and therefore I should stand by it. What do you think? If you were in MTM's place, would you just be happy with the surprise, or would you also feel frustrated at the broken arrangement? What have you agreed to for Mother's Day gifts?
Dinner This year is complicated for dinner and it's all my inlaw's fault. (Actually, fuck it: it is all my inlaw's fault.) My MIL has decided she would rather spend Sunday with her girlfriends (who she sees once a month), so we're doing it Saturday instead. My SIL decided to invite her friends to the inlaw's cottage for Victoria Day (the weekend her birthday falls) meaning there isn't enough room for us to go celebrate her birthday up north, so we're also having her "family birthday" on Saturday.
In my opinion, mothers should not cook on Mother's Day (or for a Mother's Day dinner), and I have held fast on that subject with MTM (who kindly offered to make dessert). However, our present plan is to have my MIL make dessert and my SIL do the salad. (I am doing the flank steak, corn on the cob, franciscan (ish... they're not exactly franciscan, but that's the closest description) potatoes and hors d'oeuvres). My FIL's culinary skills begin and end with beanie weenies, so he's no help.
I believe that my SIL's choices have made this weekend her birthday party, so she can bring dessert, and I can easily make a salad. However, MTM doesn't think that moms cooking for Mother's Day is that big a deal, so she's OK with having my MIL make dessert. (MTM is "taking a break" this weekend out of respect for my wishes.)
What do you think? Should we just leave the plan as is, or should I have my SIL make dessert and give my MIL the day off? What about in general: are the husbands cooking this weekend? Are you going out to a restaurant? Is the mom making dinner?
Being a parent means accepting the fact that you are both a student and a teacher. You will learn as much about kids, about life, about everything from your children as they will from you. Sometimes those lessons are heart-warming, sometimes they are heart-wrenching, but they are always invaluable.
In the past week, I have gained a wealth of knowledge, and now I will share it with you.
From My Son
Just because an infant does something spontaneously during the day (like, say, getting up on all fours temporarily) does not mean that several uninterrupted hours of watching said child will produce the same result.
If you take an infant to the zoo, they will happily stare at the brightly coloured fish in the aquarium and nothing else. Attempts to show them elephants, hippos, or other large creatures will result in the baby looking everywhere but the animal.
While pushing a shopping cart, extending your arms out and then pulling the cart back to you at a slightly quick velocity is the apex of comedy.
Doing the "nom nom nom" thing can be either the most entertaining or the most terrifying experience, depending on mood.
The stare of a seven month old boy who has just tasted ice cream and cannot have more as he watches he Daddy eat said ice cream can melt steel.
It is physically possible to fall asleep while jumping in an exersaucer.
A little boy will say "Dada", but not while his father is in the room.
Hearing Daddy tell you not to whack the keyboard over a video-chat is more likely to stop the behaviour than hearing Mommy tell you this while holding you on her lap.
The best way you can show excitement is to smack the object of your affection repeatedly in the head, ideally in the eye.
The success of a bath is measured by two statistics: the volume of water Daddy has to ring out of his shirt, and the number of times you can roll over to your tummy giving Daddy panic attacks.
From My Daughter
Stories from books and stories from your childhood are two very different things and not "just stories" according to a preschooler.
The thing she misses most when she's constipated is my risotto; even if I haven't made it in months.
If an invitation has not been received, then there is no party, even if there is cake and presents.
The only "real" video games are played on a PSP or a palm OS handheld. Games on a computer or a tv don't count.
Any Disney Princess can have a tail; they just have to ask Ariel if they can borrow it first.
The best part of a zoo visit are the inanimate animal statues littered throughout the zoo, not the actual live animals.
Toys R Us and pet stores are "kid stores". Other stores can be fun for kids too, but they're not "kid stores" and therefore don't count as a kid's "turn" when shopping.
"Watching sports with Daddy" is fun for about five minutes; then it's time to whine until he turns the tv off or (even better) puts on Treehouse.
A carrot is a reasonable substitute for chocolate (I have no idea who taught her that; it certainly wasn't me).
If Daddy's not going to work tomorrow and Mommy is in bed with Buddy, then the empty half a bed in Mommy and Daddy's room is an open invitation; you don't even have to wake Daddy up: just climb into bed with your pillow and wrap his arm around you.
What about your kids? What new and exciting things have they taught you lately?
I also have a book review up for Do-Over, the story of one man's attempt to relive episodes of his childhood.
I grew up in what would be considered the lower middle class. Both my parents worked, and we were not poor by anyone's definition, but we certainly did not take baths in hundred dollar bills either. Combined with the lack of disposable income was my father's need to spend time (and, ironically enough, a fair bit of money) drinking with his friends on the weekends, we rarely did big family outings.
In my childhood, I went to one sporting event (a baseball game where my grandfather purchased the tickets for my father and I along with himself), one local zoo visit (for a field trip in Kindergarten) and one out of town zoo visit (that my aunt took me to), and a few visits to amusement parks. That's about it for big outings. Sure, we did a few family vacations (to someplace other than visiting family) where we did some tourist things like museums or whatever, but in my mind, when you're on vacation (and stuck with your immediate family) those sorts of things don't count.
MTM and I are members at our local zoo because we go so often (at least four times a year, if not more). Munchkin has been to two baseball games so far, and will likely see her third this summer. We will also probably take in a fake football game (CFL) as well, since she's expressed an interest. In the past, we've gone to the Science Centre as well as Canada's Wonderland also.
Now, we are by no means rich. We enjoy a more expensive lifestyle compared to the one I grew up in, but in no way would I consider us upper middle class. However, I do feel like we appropriate funds very differently from my parents. When I compare my childhood to Munchkin's (and to a lesser extent, Buddy's, because of his young age), I see a huge gap. We take her places that my parents would never have considered. Admittedly, part of the problem was availability: the area of the province I grew up in does not have the same concentration of ammenities, but there were options for other events that my parents never chose to exercise.
My point here is not to say look at how much better a parent I am than my father was. Quite frankly, he set the bar so low that I feel like using him as a benchmark is insulting. No, my concern is that Munchkin (and later Buddy) do not appreciate what is being given to them.
Yesterday morning (after I spent Friday night working on my FIL's laptop which had what Symantec determined to be a password stealing malware, and then discovered that somehow my work laptop contracted the same malware and spent all Saturday night investigating it, only to discover a potential solution on Sunday morning, which ultimately worked and explained that the issue was not, in fact a backdoor trojan, but just annoying malware, but without enough time to verify the fix until Sunday night - ultimately yes my laptop is fine now) we packed up the kids and a lunch and went to the zoo. We let Munchkin dictate our path, save for an attempt to see the giraffes (Buddy loves his Sophie), and how long we spent at each exhibit. We even let her convince me to get fries (after we said we weren't buying food because we brought lunch), not to mention having me take her on the train ride around the zoo while MTM fed and changed Buddy at the end of our trip.
As we were driving home, MTM remarked to Munchkin that she had a pretty special day: she went to zoo, but not only that, she also got to do whatever she wanted. Munchkin's response? "No Mommy. I didn't get ice cream."
To be clear, I am not expecting them to fawn over us when we take them to the zoo. I do not expect her to thank us repeatedly for spending the whole day responding to practically her every whim. I wouldn't mind it if she thanked us for taking her to the zoo, if she seemed to appreciate what we did for her. But to have her look back on yesterday and have the fucking ice cream be the first thought? That nearly made me burst. It was so selfish, so oblivious of the world around her, so greedy.
Yes, she's four, and no, I do not expect her to realize how lucky she is that her father not only has a job in this economy, but a job in a sector that is actually flourishing (we do work for municipalities; where do you think the stimulus money is going?) Whereas some people she knows wonder every day when Daddy comes home that they will find out his hours have been cut, or even if he's still got a job, she lives life in a house that is blessed enough to remain completely unaffected by the current situation. Again, I don't expect her to realize all this, but what I would like is for her to see that she has a lot, that she gets to do a lot more than some of the kids she knows, that her parents cater to her whims more than other kids.
I tell her stories about when I was a little kid, and she seems genuinely shocked at how I lived. She cannot fathom a life where there aren't multiple zoo trips a year, or where going out to events isn't the norm for a summer weekend, yet when she looks at her own life she cannot draw the connection.
Am I expecting too much from her at this age? What age should I start expecting this? Those of you with kids who are in similar situations: are your kids grateful for what they have? Do they realize how lucky they are? How have you accomplished this?
Whenever something happens to one of the kids that I can even halfway blame on MTM, I refer to her as Neglectimommy. I do it purely in jest, and she always knows I'm kidding around. (At least I hope she does. I'm beginning to think this post isn't such a bright idea after all.)
I often joked that I would serialize them into a Neglectimommy comic strip. Well, today is that day... sort of. Instead of using real stories from our lives (which, honestly, aren't that funny), I have decided to launch The Totally Untrue Adventures of Neglectimommy comic strip. (For the record, my artistic skill sucks big hairy donkey balls. I know this. However, I feel it adds a certain charm to the comic.)
As with other significant deviations from what passes for the norm here, I am looking for feedback. Like it or hate it, please let me know in the comments. If the feedback is favourable, I will continue the series. If all I get are groans, then Neglectimommy dies a quick death, just like Really Bad Teenage Poetry.
Without further ado, I give you Neglectimommy Volume 1: Computer Time (Click the image to make it larger, and if you're using a browser that resizes images automatically like IE or Firefox, click it again to increase to full size.):
click to embiggen
(Also? If you do like it and have a better suggestion for a soundtrack, I am all ears. Seriously.)
Also, I've posted the winners for the poster giveaway at my review blog.
Subscribe
