Compensating

The Way I Am - Eminem
I have long maintained that we (parents) parent our children in response to how we were parented, that we try to raise our kids in a manner that corrects any mistakes we feel our parents made (and theoretically emulate anything we felt worked well).

Growing up, my father worked shift work at a factory. When he was on days, he'd be home for dinner but would (somewhat understandably, in hindsight) fall asleep immediately afterward and awaken just before our bedtime. On Friday nights, he'd go out drinking at his club right after dinner. If he was working days on the weekend, he went to the club for a few beers before coming home after work. If he wasn't working that weekend at all, he was at the club all afternoon. Bottom line: weekend dinners meant my dad was drunk.

When he was on afternoons, we'd see him at lunch (we lived across the street from my elementary school, so we came home for lunch) for 30 minutes, and if we woke up around midnight when he got home from work. If he was working afternoons on a weekend, he'd sometimes leave home earlier than usual and go drinking at the club before work. This wasn't common, but it did happen.

Now that I have Munchkin and Buddy, I try to be the father my father wasn't, and not be the father he was. A huge part of my guilt about being a working father stems from how he spent his time. I am paranoid to a fault about my kids not knowing how important and special they are to me. I am so scared of them remembering me drunk that I rarely have more than one beer, and only then because I'm in a social situation where a man having a drink is appropriate and/or expected.

I try to play with them as much as I can, even though I'm tired when I get home from work because I remember the longing of watching my father snore on the floor with his feet raised on a chair (don't ask me to explain; I just recount the facts of my childhood) wishing he would play cars with me. Sometimes, all I can muster is holding Munchkin in my arms while watching Treehouse, but she seems OK with that because a) tv before bed is a treat for her and b) she usually slides off the chair, turns off the tv, and then hugs me and says I'm the best Daddy.

But the question that occurred to me recently was, How much of my parenting "style" is me compensating for my father's inadequacies, and how much is me? Obviously, I don't know the answer to this question. I would like to think that most of it is my nature, that instinctively I want to be a good dad and act accordingly. However, if my father wasn't the way he was, how different would my approach to parenting be?

What about your parents? Did they do a good job? Do you try to emulate what they did with your own kids? Or do you feel like they made some mistakes and you're trying to avoid those same pitfalls with your own kids? And how much of what you do as a parent is driven by instinct and how much by avoiding what your parents did?

---

Thanks for all of your suggestions yesterday to my bath issue. Last night I solved my problem (at least for the time being). I borrowed a page from the US military, and employed a "shock and awe" campaign on Buddy. Every time he went to roll over, I splashed water in his face, which surprised (and fortunately, entertained) him enough to stop the roll. A disoriented opponent is a defeated opponent, right?

The Nightmare Of Bathtime

Before we get to today's post, for those lurkers readers who only read via feeds, I have made some changes to the layout of my blog. They are subtle at first glance, but are actually fairly significant in the area of site navigation. So, if you're interested in such things, click through. Either way, if you have thoughts about it, please share in the comments.

Behold! The Night Mare - Smashing Pumpkins
When Munchkin was the age that Buddy is now, although I tried to connect with her, I was nowhere near as close with her as I am with Buddy today. So, I was rarely, if ever, in charge of bathing her during this time since neither MTM (who, incidentally, had a complete blog makeover this weekend - you should check it out and let her know what you think) cared to listen to a baby screech for that long. Subsequently, I cannot compare her at this age to Buddy. However, since I have no recollection of MTM telling me about baths like the ones I experienced this weekend, I think it is safe to assume Munchkin was never like this.

It used to be that Buddy loved his bath. He would get all excited as he got naked and saw me coming to get him shirtless (baby baths are wet, yo), and would spend the entire bath cooing and splashing and smiling and breathing quickly. Now, he's just as excited, but he refuses to stay even remotely still. It's like someone injects him with crystal meth before the bath, turning him into a human corkscrew.

Spin. Turn. Flip. Spin.

He spins on to his tummy and gulps massive amounts of bath water, sputtering the whole time. If I am successful in pinning him down via one leg (I can only hold one leg with my one hand; I need the other to, you know, wash him), he uses the free leg to leverage himself on my arm and push himself free (and head first into the end of the tub with an audible thud; we've decided that the "no tears, no brain damage" rule applies).

I did Friday night and Sunday night baths. MTM gave me a reprieve on Saturday, although from the sounds emanating from the bathroom her experience was the same. After last night's incident, where it got so bad I had Munchkin hold both his ankles while I washed him like it was some kind of high school hazing incident involving shaving cream and honey (or maybe that was just my school, or maybe just me), I'm not sure who will bathe him tonight.

We've discussed alternatives, such as:

• bathing him in an infant tub in the regular tub with a rubber mat underneath to avoid slipping (MTM)
• a sitting shower, where there's no standing water and we use the detachable shower head (me)
• tethering him by the ankles to the faucet (me)
• hosing him down in the driveway (me)
• getting a dog that will lick him clean after every meal

However, we have no solid conclusion (I'm lobbying for getting a dog to lick him clean after meals).

Buddy can't be the only kid who is like this at this age (nine months on Wednesday; crap, when did he become three quarters of a year old?) right? Tell me your kids were like this too. Then tell me how you dealt with it (i.e. what breed of dog did you get; that's the only solution that makes sense).

Neglectimommy Volume 4

Welcome to Volume 4 of Neglectimommy. You can read about the origins of this serial (and view the first comic) in the first volume.

Neglectimommy Archive
Volume 1
Volume 2
Volume 3

It's hard to believe (at least for me), but it has been almost a month since I published a Neglectimommy comic. Whatever. Absence makes the heart grow fonder and shit like that. As always, I welcome feedback (even if it's accusing me of something completely untrue); if you don't like them, I'll stop publishing them (although I'll probably keep making them because my wife loves them so much).

Without further ado, I give you Neglectimommy Volume 4: Going Mobile:


click to enlarge (and make text legible)

"Tell Me A Story From When You Were A Little Boy"

Story Of Her Fate - Screaming Trees
Last year, I wrote about how Munchkin wanted to hear stories from when she was a baby. The made-up stories mentioned in that post didn't last too long (I don't remember specifically why, but I suspect it had something to do with MTM taking issue to me telling Munchkin she got wasted and puked on our lawn as an infant), but her desire to hear stories from her infancy never waned.

Somewhere along the line, she developed a curiosity about our childhoods: what we were like, what our siblings (her aunts) were like, what our parents were like, what things were different, et cetera. Now, she only occasionally asks for a story about her as a baby; it's all about Mommy and Daddy as little kids.

Generally, I try to use the stories to teach a lesson of some sort. For example, I told her how I only had one Star Wars ship growing up (as compared to her countless My Little Ponies or Disney Princess dolls) because we didn't have as much money to buy toys. I told her how excited I was to have that toy, and how special it was, and how lucky she is to have as many toys as she does. Another favourite is how when I was two, I wasn't allowed to cross our street, but I knew my older sister (who was in grade seven) went to the school across the street. So, one fine warm day I sat on the curb and howled her name over and over, pleading with her to come home and play with me. Since it was warm, the windows were open, and her classmates teased her about my cries. (But I knew not to cross the street, even though I wanted to see my big sister. Safety was - and still is - important.)

Other stories illustrate the difference in eras. She was shocked to learn that there was no Treehouse, that CBC Kids consisted of Mr. Dress-up and Sesame Street, that microwaves and dishwashers were not available, and that we didn't have a computer in the house. She's also fascinated by the differences in societal norms: that I was allowed to sleep in the back seat - lying down without a seat belt - while driving on a road trip with my dad (or that I rode shotgun for parts of it) when I was five, or that MTM was taken home from the hospital not in a car seat, but in my MIL's arms.

And there are some that I'm not allowed to tell anymore, like the one about how my younger sister and I nagged my parents until they let us get up to open Christmas presents at 3.00am, and then when sent back to bed afterward, waited until they fell asleep and crept into the living room and brought toys back to our room and played with them until dawn. Apparently MTM is afraid I'm giving Munchkin ideas.

The problem though is the same as I lamented earlier: there are a finite number of stories from my childhood that are appropriate (I have enough sense to not tell her about the time I set the carpet on fire when I screwed a stove fuse into a light socket) and interesting (I doubt regaling her with tales of my experiences as the overhead projector operator at my church would be successful). Eventually, I'll have to borrow stories from other people's childhoods.

And that's where you come in. Tell me a story from when you were a little boy or girl, please. (If it involves torturing small animals or petty theft, you probably should keep those to yourself.)

Post Script
The one sort-of negative effect of all that nostalgia is that sometimes it spills over into real life, like a few weeks ago when I won an auction on ebay for a Boba Fett Slave 1 (not the original, all of which are in pretty crappy condition, but a re-release that is very similar to what I had as a kid). It was almost $50US, which sounds nuts until you realize that the next week another one went for almost $100US. So technically, I had to get it because it was such a deal.

Trying New Things

New Slang - The Shins

A while back, in my How MTM Are You post, I mentioned that my wife continues to try new biscuit recipes despite having already tried dozens and finding one that is awesome.

The truth is that she is never satisfied with a recipe's success, and must always chase the elusive better one.

This weekend, she made a chocolate peanut butter cake for dessert for Father's Day. Originally, it was supposed to be my birthday cake, but she was sick and I discouraged her from baking at that time. So, she made it for her family Father's Day dinner.

As it was being served, my SIL asked her if it was the good chocolate cake recipe (in other words, the one that we had had for my birthday for two years, for two of Munchkin's birthdays, for a black forest cake MTM made once, et cetera). MTM replied in the negative, indicating that she was trying a new one instead.

I muttered to my SIL that MTM is always doing this: trying new recipes when everyone already likes one. My SIL stood by her sister, saying, "You have to keep trying new things!"

My single, just moving in with her boyfriend, SIL didn't laugh when I said, "Then why bother getting married if you have to keep trying new things?" But her boyfriend smirked.

And nobody laughed when I told MTM that - now that we all understood people need to keep trying new things - it was time for her to meet my mistress.

Now, can anyone explain why my inlaws don't like me very much (because honestly, I'm at a loss)? Also, that was funny, right?

What Have I Done?

Happy Together - The Turtles
Yesterday, I came home from work to find MTM and the kids playing outside. As I was getting ready to go out to the back, MTM was bringing Buddy in for a diaper change. I gave both of them a quick kiss, and started on dinner while Munchkin continued to play outside.

Since it was so hot out (no, it wasn't scorchingly hot like we were in Arizona or something, but honestly people, we get tons of snow here, so we're more sensitive to the heat than others), we decided most of dinner would be done on the grill, which is my domain (usually). So, while Buddy rolled around on the kitchen floor fussily thanks to a cold that the three of them have (and by the grace of whoever I do not) and a bad diaper rash, I cooked outside, only occasionally making a face at him through the sliding door window.

While we ate, Buddy stared at me and smiled non-stop. He kept saying, "Daddee! Daddee! Dadadadadadee!" over and over. He munched happily on my grilled/roasted potatoes, his gummy grin often showing the mashed up tubers therein.

Why does he like me so much? I wondered to myself. It's not that I'm looking a gift horse in the mouth; I love the fact that he's so attached to me, but it's not like he's got this long memory of time spent with me or anything. Object permanence is a relatively new development for him, so I'm still kind of the big goofy hairy one who shows up every day.

And it's not just isolated to yesterday. He has been excited to see me (not happy, not pleased, but palpable excitement) when I come home from work or when he sees me in the morning before work for weeks now. He smiles wide, repeats my name over and over (usually with the sign for Daddy as well) and gets that short breath or hyperventilating thing that babies do when they really like something, and if I fail to pick him up or at the very least acknowledge him with some physical contact, he gets very upset.

Lately (as in since the beginning of May, possibly a bit before that; I'm sure MTM has a date marked in her calendar when it all started heading south) I have been working longer hours, such that my time with the kids is limited to eating family dinner (usually), giving them baths, and a brief cuddle and/or story before bed. Of course, weekends are all-family all-the-time, but weekdays? Not so much.

The egoist in me wants to believe that it's because I'm such an amazing dad when I do spend time with him that he loves me just for that. The realist in me knows that isn't possible, at least not yet (nor does either one of us - the egoist or the realist - believe I am that amazing of a dad). So what is it? Is it genetics, some kind of subliminal bond between father and child that transcends logic, maybe by scent or even instinct? Or maybe it's just familiarity; I may not be a long-term resident in his daily world, but perhaps I am a frequent enough visitor to warrant this sort of reception? Maybe it's just that he misses me when I leave him, either to sleep or to go to work.

I get the connection he has with MTM. She takes care of him all day. She breastfeeds him. She sleeps with him for part of the night. Their bond makes sense. For him to react with such vigor when she enters the room following a prolonged absence makes sense. But why me? What have I done for him, an infant, to warrant him being so happy when we're together? I would love to hear your thoughts on this.

Father's Day* Is...

Today - Smashing Pumpkins

• schlepping both kids around (solo) in the rain to buy a present for your wife, complete with loading and unloading them several times in the rain
• sitting in your best man's living room with your son fast asleep on your chest while he does the dishes following your Father's Day dinner while your wives are sitting in another room chatting
• walking the aisles of a grocery store at 10.00pm with a four year old in pajamas because a) she wouldn't fall asleep on the drive home and b) your wife forgot a few things for Father's Day breakfast (like, bread for toast)
• breakfast, with bacon (he didn't actually eat any; he just sucked off some salty grease):
• receiving a card that proves Father's Day is a Hallmark holiday (a pink card with Cinderella on it that says "Happy Father's Day" and has a recordable feature that ends your child's message with a song from the movie)
• walking around a crap and stuff arts and crafts show to buy gifts for your MIL's (who doesn't really like you) birthday
• having your son wear this:
• taking a two hour nap with your little girl
• impressing your MIL (who still doesn't really like you) by purchasing infant son a big Upsie Daisy because it's a girl doll (we found it on clearance when shopping Saturday; I cleared the purchase with MTM on Sunday; he just loved the doll too much to pass it up):
• moving a bunch of furniture (including disassembling some Ikea crap) for your SIL and her boyfriend into your inlaws' basement and then not getting thanked for it
• getting to spend the weekend with your wife and kids and confirming that's all that really matters

* some of these events occurred on Saturday, not Sunday

If it sounds like I didn't have a good Father's Day weekend, you misunderstand. Despite all that up there, I had a great weekend with a lot of fun with my family. Sure, we ate at my inlaws and it was tense. Sure, I had to endure a craft show on Father's Day because I am a fucking saint it rained on Saturday, when MTM planned to go, but we still had fun.

And, I got this present:


Can't figure out what it is? What if you look inside?


Still no clue? What if we zoom in on a couple of items?


Those last two things? Those are foam shapes, one with an "X" (a kiss) and one with an "O" (a hug). (Go ahead and cry now, I'll wait.) That is a box of hugs and kisses for me to bring to work, so that when I miss her I can just open the box and get a hug and a kiss. She (Munchkin) came up with this all by herself (have I mentioned lately that she is four years old?!?) from the box to the decorating with things I like (in case the image isn't clear, there's "sports", the Detroit Lions, the Detroit Red Wings, Star Wars, basketball and football, as well as "Daddy" all podged on) to the foam shapes stamped with "X" and "O". How freakin' amazing is my kid?

OK, so how was your Father's Day? Did you have fun? Did Dad take the day and golf, or did he spend it with the kids? What sorts of gifts did Dad get?

Blogs By Dads

Hey Daddy - Korn
Last month I posted a list of blogs by moms because Mother's Day was approaching. I had to do the same for Father's Day. What follows is a list of blogs by dads that I read. As with last time, I encourage you to click through and read some of their posts.

Laid-Off Dad - LoD was the first dad blogger I read, found via an article in Parents magazine that I was reading while at home with my broken ankle. His blog planted the seed of an idea in me that a father could blog about parenting.

Cynical Dad - Chag is another of my earlier discoveries in the dad blog world. He usually writes about funny stuff, or about music, or spelling bees.

Dad Gone Mad - Danny has been around forever in blog years. If you haven't read his hilarious stuff, you are really missing out.

Dads Who Mock the World - Russ started reading and commenting at my wife's blog first, but eventually brought his dry sense of humour over here as well. His stories as an at-home dad are eye-opening, at least for someone like me who never knew any SAHD growing up.

Luke, I Am Your Father - James (who wants you to call him SeattleDad, but will always be James to me) writes about his experiences raising his young boy with a bend toward introspection, and does a great job at it.

HONEA EXPRESS - Whit has been blogging for a lot longer than I have been reading him. His posts can be strange yet entertaining, funny yet heartbreaking, and thought-provoking yet personal.

Daddy Geek Boy - Daddy Geek Boy has been in my reader for a little over six months, and in that time has developed a great style and voice. He writes about pop culture or sampling new kinds of snack foods as easily as he does about fatherhood, which makes his blog an ecclectic yet entertaining read.

Poop and Boogies - I've been reading William for a while now, and his posts can run the gamut from endearing to entertaining, and all points in between.

Rude Cactus - I have been reading Chris since my early days of blogging, and am constantly amazed by the things that happen to him in public bathrooms. (Oh, and he writes about his kids a lot too.)

Single Parent Dad - Ian entered my reader back in January, and his posts both haunt and entertain me. He is living (what I consider to be) every father's worst nightmare: raising his son after losing his wife. I am constantly amazed by the strength he demonstrates.

Creative-Type Dad - Tony is an infrequent poster (there have been times where I thought he had quit for good, only to find a new post the next week), but when he does, it's always great, and usually about Lionel Richie or KFC.

MetroDad - Pierre is a great writer with a wicked sense of humour. His stuff tends to be funny, but he can also pound out a tear-jerker when he wants to.

Work + Play ≠ Dull Boy - DenGuy is another one of those occasional bloggers. He's a SAHD to two kids, and often has interesting stories about life as the outsider in a world of mostly SAHMs.

The Adventures of Super Mega Dad - Super Mega Dad hasn't written much lately, but he swears he's getting back into the groove. I for one hope that he does, because he writes an honest and thoughtful blog.

The Cheek of God - Brian is a very new addition to my reading list. His blog is more personal than strictly about parenting, so it probably has a wider appeal. I know that I enjoy it.

(As with my moms list, if you are not listed above, please don't take offense. Also, Happy Father's Day to all the dads out there - blogging or not.)

So, what did you think? Did I miss one of your favourites? What blogs by dads would you recommend?

Understatements

Who Knew - Pink
On Tuesday, Munchkin's (future) school had a head start program for the JK class starting in September. Basically, they placed the new kids into groups of three, and brought them into the existing classroom for an hour.

She did circle time, where her future classmates welcomed her to Kindergarten. She also did some painting, where she mixed a fine shade of brown, like most most kids her age do. She got some computer time (some literacy based game, apparently), and played with some play dough as well. She also toured the Kindergarten bathroom. Several times.

She was so excited when MTM came back to retrieve her that MTM barely got to speak with the teacher at all because Munchkin was bouncing around so much (this was not her typical reaction). She called me at work and told me all about it (at a frightening speed), and shared the same stories (and excitement) when I got home that night.

To say that it was a positive experience for her is an understatement.

From what little time MTM had with her teacher, we were able to learn that Munchkin was enthusiastic, but also knew to raise her hand before speaking. She was also quite polite, and the teacher had nothing but positive things to say about her. The teacher also gave MTM warm fuzzies (and this comes from a Kindergarten teacher herself - recall that MTM taught JK/SK for five years before Munchkin was born) as far as how she'll handle Munchkin.

To say that MTM and I were proud is an understatement.

To say that I was relieved is an enormous understatement.

As much as I believe that MTM being a SAHM is the right decision for our family, as Munchkin approached school age I began to question it more and more. Experiences like our first ballet class made me sick with worry that our kid would be the one sobbing in the corner, or, even worse, the one who freaked out so badly that the teacher broke down and sent her home for the day. She will have spent her first four and a half years with MTM when she starts JK, and only the last year of that sharing MTM with Buddy. She was - and is - very attached to her mother, and I feared that she would prove to be too attached.

Now, I am in no way saying that we are out of the woods. I have been rectally probed by fate's fickle and hubris-riddled hand enough times to know that would be foolish. However, I am not as concerned as I was Tuesday morning when I woke up. There are still things we need to overcome, like spending more than an hour there, actually using the bathroom there, and taking the bus. But those are all milestones that now seem within reach.

My little girl doesn't seem as little today. She's overcome things more quickly than I thought she could, and she is quickly growing into the girl I always knew she could be, but wasn't sure she would be. And in a way, I feel like an ass for ever doubting her in the first place, but that is my burden to shoulder now. She was ready all along. Who knew?

What about you? Have your kids ever done something that genuinely surprised you, something that you weren't sure they would ever do? How did that feel?

Stories From The (Not So) Cheap Seats

Ballerina Girl - Lionel Richie
(Yes, the title would flow better without the parentheses, but when I'm paying $20 a head for a show that runs less than two hours including intermission, and my kid is on stage for a grand total of four minutes, those seats cannot be called cheap.)

Rather than recap the day, which would be the blog reading equivalent of watching paint dry with a window open (sure the occasional bug will fly in and make things exciting for a moment here and there, but ultimately it's still a pretty boring experience), I will share some anecdotes.

Sometimes, Logic Works
Munchkin was still apprehensive come Sunday morning for the dress rehearsal, so much so that when they called her group to line up, she got a panic-stricken look on her face and gestured for MTM, who went over and spoke with her for a few minutes before coming back to Buddy and me.

"She's really scared. She wants me to come with her."

"OK. No problem," I said as I walked over to Munchkin while MTM stayed with Buddy.

"Hey kiddo. Mommy says you're nervous."

"Uh huh."

"Well, she's going to push Buddy and I'll stay beside you until you go in."

"I don't want to go in without you."

"Munchkin, all the girls that are with you have tutus on. I don't have a tutu. Do you want me to put on a tutu?

"No," she said, laughing.

"Then I can't go with you."

"OK Daddy!"

(Sure, it was probably more about her stronger attachment to MTM than my mad skillz, but it still felt like a parenting victory.)

Teacher Does Not Equal Safety Conscious
The dressing room for Munchkin's class was shared with two older classes (the girls were all between the ages of four and six years, and there were over 20). It was also conveniently located right off the main foyer, which made finding and navigating to it with a stroller easy.

Unfortunately, it was also equipped with super-sized doors (as in, a pair of doors that were each three or four metres wide), as well as a door to the backstage area (on the opposite side of the room) and the dance school assigned one parent to monitor them during the show.

Is it just us (MTM and I), or would this sort of thing bother you as well? The issue (for us) was the lack of supervision and extremely accessible - especially to an exit - room. Or are we the only kidnap-fearing parents out there?

That's What Difference A Year Makes?
Munchkin's class was all girls who are starting JK this fall, meaning they will be four by the end of this year. (Translation: some kids were not even three when they started class.) The next level up was all kids in JK or SK, at least one year older than Munchkin's classmates.

Their routines were almost identical, save for one or two moves in the older class that Munchkin's lacked. However, Munchkin's class was noticably better; more cohesive, more attentive, and seemed to know the routine a lot more.

Of course, some of this can be traced back to the kids themselves; it is entirely possible that Munchkin lucked into a talented group. However, at least some of it falls to the teacher, and for that reason I am skeptical about investing another year's worth of fees and time at this school.

Right now, my plan is to suggest alternative, non-dance extra curricular activities that would make scheduling dance class impossible. Then, go back to the school in another year or two, because those kids looked like they had learned something Munchkin hadn't. So: any ideas for extra-curricular stuff for a four year old?

The Performance
It was, in a word, amazing. She smiled and concentrated on her routine, she nailed approximations of all her moves (and no one got hit or run into like at rehearsals). She was literally beaming with pride when we went to find her at intermission to bring her roses (yes, we brought a four year old roses; don't judge). She asked me on the drive home when her next recital would be.

When her group finished, I started to cry. I wasn't a sobbing mess like MTM, but it was definitely a bit dusty in the theatre. I feel like such a cliche saying this, but it was so moving to watch the culmination of her efforts over the past ten months. Newer readers don't know how it started out, how she wanted to leave unless she had a parent with her, or the cautious optimism after an early success. She really had come a long way from the scared little girl who wouldn't go into the studio unless MTM was right beside her, and I was so proud of her for it.

OK, I bragged about my kid today, so now it's your turn. Tell us something your kid has worked at lately that you're now seeing the sum of their efforts (in addition to the other questions littered throughout this post, of course).

Sick Spouse

First of all, everyone get out your reading eyes (related to, although not to be confused with, your listening ears). MTM is still sick. She never "got better"; she has been sick since last week.

On Thursday morning I got up and, before leaving for work, checked in with MTM to see how her night went with Buddy. She informed me that she spent the night vomiting, and that she still felt nauseous. I offered to stay home, but she said she'd be OK. At 11.00am she called me, barely speaking, and said that she couldn't do it and that she needed me home immediately. For perspective: in the more than four years she has been a SAHM, this has never happened. So, I came home and fed the kids lunch and got her some broth and started to work from home while an attention-deprived preschooler tried to coax me into board games.

Friday I didn't even bother going into the office, and spent my day in similar fashion to Thursday afternoon. Sometime after lunch, we thought MTM had turned the corner, but we later realized that the sickness had just travelled through to her intestines and was no longer causing vomit, but was still making her do something that made us fear dehydration. By Friday afternoon she had lost 10lbs in two days.

Since then she has seen small glimpses of "OK", but never "good" and mostly "poor" to "sweet merciful crap when will it end?" Unfortunately, I am scheduled to be out of the office (and therefore unable to work from home) for the week.

It would be easy for me to deceive you and say that I don't mind shouldering the load while MTM is sick, that working from home was a wonderful experience because I got lunch with my family and spend more time with them. While that is true, it is not the whole truth. The truth is that it has been difficult trying to juggle everything (or as close an approximation to everything as I could muster while still doing my job), and I have found it frustrating at times, like yesterday when I stopped by the grocery store on my way home, only to have to go back out there a few hours later because MTM forgot something. I'm not mad at her: she's sick, it's easy to forget stuff when you're sick, but damn if it isn't annoying to have to go back out just when you're about to get some down time for the first time all day. Does that make me a bad husband for admitting this? I don't know.

I'm struggling here, mainly because there is no answer. When you're a SAHM, you don't get sick days, but sometimes you are too sick to do anything: what then? We cannot rely on my inlaws because (and I sort of understand this) they're afraid to get sick themselves. I can't keep working from home because my work requires me to be at site right now. So what can we do? We could ask a neighbour, but the possibility that one of the kids is incubating what MTM has makes me afraid to spread this. (Yes, technically I could be carrying it to work, but I can't live life in a bubble.)

I'm also finding it difficult to not feel guilty about being frustrated about being tired. Work sucks right now, so spending the day there only to come home to an exhausted wife and two fussy kids is draining. Again, I'm not blaming MTM. I just find the circumstances more than I'd like to bear.

Those of you who are SAHP (or are married to one): how do you deal with the at-home parent being sick? Do you have backup, like a friend or a family member, that you can drop the kids with? Does the parent who works out of the home take time off?

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Another consequence of my situation between work and home is that I have less time for blog reading, which means that some of you may notice a drop in my comments over the next little while. Please know that this doesn't mean I've stopped reading completely, but rather that time has become more limited.

A Good Weekend To Be Me

A Night Like This - The Cure
Big weekend here, folks. Huge. In light of this, today's post will be short on words and heavy on schmaltz sentimentality. In bullet form:

• I teared up twice this weekend: once on Saturday when Munchkin gave me a book she made (see below) and again on Sunday as Munchkin's group finished their performance; it was a good weekend to be SciFi Dad
• my birthday was good, considering the fact that MTM was so sick from stomach flu that I worked from home Thursday and Friday
• I got two action figures: an Imperial Engineer (Battlefront II) and a titanium series (metallic) Boba Fett
• I also cornered the market on DVDs (it seems): S1-S3 of Friday Night Lights and S1-S3 of Prison Break, among others
• Munchkin did an amazing job at her recital; she was so excited and didn't want to leave the theatre when it was done
• Buddy was a champ all day Sunday as he was passed around and even tried to dance from a sitting position... perhaps he'll join their hip hop dance program
• more blog-worthy stuff happened that I will expand upon as the week progresses (and I am more rested)

I will leave you with this. It is a book Munchkin made (with very little assistance from MTM) for me for my birthday (and apparently Father's Day). She sounded out the words, she made up the sentences. It's about things I like:


Daddy's Birthday Father's Day Book, Munchkin Buddy Mommy

This is Daddy

This is Munchkin's Hand

This is Buddy's Hand

This is Tigger (my favourite Pooh character)

This is Munchkin

This is basketball

This is the Detroit Lions

This is the Red Wings

This is our family Munchkin, Buddy, Mommy, Daddy
No deep, probing questions today, folks; just two simple ones. First, how fucking awesome is that book? Second, what was one good thing (or several) from your weekend?

... To Me

Birthday - The Beatles
Tomorrow is my 35th birthday. The old SciFi Dad (also known as "pre-MTM SciFi Dad") would have used that loophole to avoid mentioning his birthday at all this year since nobody reads blogs on weekends. Allow me to explain.

I was never a big fan of birthdays. Presents? Sure. Cake? Hook me up. But the whole being the center of attention thing, the being sung to by people thing? No thanks. (Incidentally, is it just me or does the traditional Happy Birthday sound more and more like a funeral dirge when a large group sings it, say at an office or something?) Armchair psychologists everywhere are concluding that it has to do with self-esteem and not feeling like I deserve it. Maybe so, maybe not.

Regardless, the second dinner date I had with MTM was on my birthday (see #7), and I learned very quickly that she had ideas about birthdays that I never did. In her opinion (and I kind of get it, more so now that we have little kids) birthdays aren't about you, they're about the people who love you, or care about you, or like you, or whatever. They're about the opportunity, once a year, for those people to celebrate the fact that you escaped a uterine gulag were born.

So now I accept whatever plans she and Munchkin have made. In the past, MTM has tried to respect my desire for low-key pseudo-ignoring of the day while still celebrating it (notable exception: my third birthday with her, where she arranged a birthday party with my friends). Usually it's a day with my family, a day trip somewhere, and I get to pick what we have for dinner. And there's cake.

This year I get my wish because of circumstances. Our plan is to keep things simple on Saturday because Munchkin has her recital on Sunday and we don't want her overtired or anything, so stuff like the zoo or the science center are out. We are likely going to get takeout (probably burgers) and have a "tv dinner" with a movie (not Disney princesses, much to my daughter's chagrin). But that probably means next year I'm going to have to accept a party or something.

What about you? Do you like your birthday? Do you share MTM's philosophy about it being a day for others more than for you? And most importantly: is it wrong for a man to receive Star Wars action figures for his 35th birthday? It's not, right?

Notes

More Than Words - Extreme

Most weekday mornings, I am long gone by the time MTM and the kids wake up get out of bed and come downstairs. I have always been more of a "morning person", and combine that with my intense hatred of commuter traffic, I have been an early to the office, early home guy for years.

When Munchkin was still quite young (like around 18 months or so), I started leaving her little notes on her picnic table. They were on post-its or pieces of small note paper, and mostly said stuff like, "I love you," or "Have a great day," or "Be a good girl," or something about that specific day (for example some encouragement about ballet class when she was apprehensive about it). She loved receiving them. She would discover the note and hand it to MTM to read, and then carry it around the house while saying that she had a note from Daddy and that she was a lucky girl (MTM had told her she was lucky; she didn't conclude that herself.)

As time passed, sometimes my notes became more elaborate. I would take larger sheets of paper and use crayons or markers to make them colourful. I would accent the note with stickers on occasion. But no matter if it a was a simple note written in pen on a piece of note paper or a larger one with many colours and stickers, I would always come home to find the note somewhere "special", and to hear stories from MTM about how she kept asking to have it read to her or how she brought it to bed at nap time.

One morning in the fall, I left a note for her. It was the first one since Buddy had been born. My phone rang shortly after their usual wakeup time.

"Daddy?"

"Yes Munchkin?"

"I got your note."

"Oh good! Did you like it?"

"Yes, but there's a big problem."

"What's that, sweetheart?"

"You forgot to write one for Buddy!"

The next morning, I made her a new, colourful note. Then I took the markers and drew Buddy a picture. She was pleased with my idea to give him a picture because he was just a baby.

Now, notes are a little more rare. Sometimes I write one to the two of them, and every once in a while I'll write one to her with a message for Buddy inside. But usually "note time" involves me, a couple of sheets of printer paper, and her marker bucket.

I don't mind, though. I remember when I was a kid that my father would write the scores of NHL playoff games (GO WINGS!) for me in pigeon/phonetic english on small pieces of paper, and how excited I was to receive them. I can only imagine how pleased they are with my notes telling them how much I love them, or how I'll miss them while I am at work (or reminding them to listen to their mother). I hope that they can hold on to some of these memories (and maybe one or two of the less "loved" notes) when they're older and we've inevitably drifted a bit more apart than we are today.

Here are some samples of my "work":


sometimes the notes are simple

sometimes they are fun

sometimes the pictures are creepy

sometimes the pictures are fun
Also, since she has started learning to print her lower case letters recently, my penmanship is now critiqued. You may be surprised to know that my lower-case "a" is not right: it should be a hoop and a little stick, but no tail. She gave me an example. And made me take it to work so I could practice my printing.

What do you think? Do you leave notes for your kids sometimes? How do they respond? I suspect most kids would be tickled pink to receive a note from their parents.

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I have a review up of a handbook for new dads and dads to be called Pacify Me. It was an entertaining read, and I strongly suggest you check it out.

Stage Fright

You Are The Music In Me - High School Musical 2 Cast
MTM and I are both planners. Check that: we are planners, with a capital P. We like to know what is coming up as soon as is humanly possible (and that's only acceptable if inhumanly possible isn't an option). We look up schedules on the internet, we call to check for store hours, we talk about our upcoming weekend on Tuesday. We like to be prepared, and uncertainty is our kryptonite.

Although still at a young age, Munchkin has been showing a preference for preparedness too. (Incidentally - and totally the topic for another post - the question is whether this is nature or nurture. Did she inherit this from us via genetics, or did she learn it from our behaviours?)

On Sunday, Munchkin has her first ballet recital. They will perform a routine that they have been practicing since January (the song is today's soundtrack, FYI), every week, in front of a wall-to-wall mirror, with two student-teachers (i.e. older teenaged girls, not their ballet teacher) leading them (who will thankfully be up on stage with them Sunday). Since it would not occur to a four year old that watching yourself in the mirror will not be part of the actual show, and that the mirror would be replaced by a crowd of people (including her parents and family), and knowing that our daughter likes to know about things ahead of time, we thought it would be a good idea to inform her about the lack of a fourth wall.

It was not such a bright idea. Now we have a tiny ballerina (complete with a fuschia dance outfit that features a sequined cupcake, and no I am not exaggerating) with a not-so-tiny case of stage fright.


What? You thought I was making that bit about the outfit up?
Because she's female four, her opinion on the subject varies from "I don't want to go" to "I'm scared but I think I'll do it" to "It's going to be so fun because Daddy is bribing me to do this". (I kid. MTM is firmly on the "no bribing" side of the line, which puts me on the "can't bribe" side of the line.) Mostly, she's nervous about the prospect, but that's because we haven't made any statements either way (in other words, neither "you don't have to do it if you don't want to even if it means wasting the hundreds of dollars we poured into the outfit and tickets and classes" nor "you're doing it whether you like it or not because we're not wasting the hundreds of dollars we poured into the outfit and tickets and classes").

For now, our approach seems to be avoid the subject and hope the problem goes away: a tried and true method all dysfunctional families (like mine) have used for decades. However, at some point (probably Sunday morning when we leave for the dress rehearsal, with my luck) the jig will be up and she will likely revert back to "I don't want to do it" mode.

The only plan I have so far is if she expresses fear before Sunday morning I can show her videos of my concerts (I used to be lead alto sax in my high school jazz band, so there's videos of me doing solos and the like) to let her see it's not all that bad. Other than that, I'm stumped.

Here's where you (and your infinite experience) come in. How have you handled stage fright or performance anxiety (aside: dad bloggers who read this site, I'm asking about your kid's anxiety; keep your bedroom stories in your bedroom) in the past? Do you have any suggestions for us?

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I am still running that giveaway over at my review blog. Click over for your chance to win one of three sets of nine books selected for Dads and Grads.

Faith

Faith - George Michael
On Saturday, we went to a street festival where MTM grew up. If you asked her what she thought of when we mention this fesitval, she would list off stuff like the local vendors selling crafts and soaps and organic foodstuffs, seeing people from high school (or earlier), the parade, the bands playing in the street, or the canoe racing.

If you asked Munchkin or myself (this was Buddy's first time, so he had nothing to compare it to), we would give you one answer: the church. The church is where the big inflatable jumping castles are. The church is where the games that a preschooler can actually win are. The church is where we always end up because they have the best hot dogs and burgers, and largest selection of tables in the shade.

It is also the place MTM and I got married in nearly six years ago, and the time we spend on its lawn every year is the closest I get to a place of worship every 365 days.

Some readers may be surprised to learn that I was raised in a very religious home. I was baptized Roman Catholic, and went to Catholic school from the age of five to shortly after my nineteenth birthday (incidentally, at that time Ontario had five years of high school, so I wasn't just a dumbass). I went to mass at least once a week, and often several times (if for no other reason than a deal I made with the custodian: he let me into the music room to practice at 7.00am every day, and Friday I had to go to early mass at 8.00am). I was active in our parish, as both a member of the youth group and a reader.

Then one day I started asking questions, got told I should not ask questions, and stopped going to church. I went through the typical nihilism, then atheism, then realized that (to me) atheists were as blindly devoted as the religions they cast aside, and settled on being an agnostic. I think it is possible that there is a supreme deity; I just find it highly unlikely.

Every year, sitting under the shady trees on the church lawn as I enjoy some lunch and a cold drink, I think about going back to church. I think about it more for my wife than for me, because I know she has never lost her faith, and she wishes I still had mine. I think that if I could tell her I believed again, she would baptize the kids and we would go to church occasionally (certainly not every week; we're just not that kind of people).

This year I found myself particularly drawn to it, although I cannot say why. It's possible that Munchkin's enthusiasm to see the place we got married played a part, as did the realization (as I watched Buddy sleep in his stroller under a big tree while MTM and Munchkin played in the "fair") that I had a debt to this place because it's where our family started. (OK, that is an arguable point: did MTM and I need to be married to become a family? I don't know the answer, but I know that for us, the day we became husband and wife is the day we started our own little family.)

It's also possible that I've been feeling particularly anxious these past few months, mainly because of the uncertainty in the economy as our family grows out of our little home that MTM and I chose so long ago, and that I miss the solace prayer brought me. Logically, talking to a being that I could not see, couldn't really "feel" (no matter how many times I tried to convince myself I did), should not make things seem better as one is just talking to oneself, but I remember that it did.

I'm torn: I don't believe anything differently than I have for years (in other words, still an agnostic), yet I feel compelled to go to a church. I feel like it's wrong for someone like me, someone without faith, to go into a church. I cannot really explain it.

I realize this is a personal subject, but if anyone feels like they want to share their experiences or even just their thoughts on the subject of faith (losing it, regaining it, whatever), I would appreciate it.

What We Want For Our Children

All I Really Want - Alanis Morissette
A few times over the weekend, my wife said to me, "The question in your post from Friday was too hard. It's complicated!"

I always responded the same way: "Exactly."

That was the point of asking the question: to make parents realize how complicated the question is. In all honesty, I was disappointed in those who simply put "happiness" and left it at that. Happiness is not a natural result of other successes (financial, social, et cetera), nor is its presence (or possession) the definition of perfection: if your 30 year old kid is still living in your basement, he/she may very well be happy, but is it really all you ever wanted for them?

As promised, here are some statistics (compiled Sunday evening when the comment count was 15) about the comments:

• health and love showed up on the most lists (even beating out happiness)
• a number of items appeared on no lists, including employed, married, and having children
• the top five by frequency were (in order): health, love, happiness, self-confidence, well-travelled
• the top five by average ranking (minimum frequency of two, meaning at least two people ranked it) were (again, in order): feel safe/secure, happiness, health, love, professional success (note that self-confidence was narrowly edged out by professional success)
• the weighted ranking (acheived by dividing the average ranking by the number of ranks, and probably the best representation of the way the comments went) settled out as: happiness, health, love, feel safe/secure, self-confidence

Thanks to everyone who commented. I appreciate the feedback.

Now for my answers:

1. happiness
Happiness does imply the presence of other elements, but its presence does not guarantee them. Of course, above all else, I want my kids to be happy, but it would be disingenuous for me to say that is all I want, because as I illustrated above, just because they're happy doesn't mean they are in a good place. (Another example: they could be happy living in a commune in Waco, Texas... that doesn't mean I want them there.)

2. love
I intentionally left this open-ended so that I could misuse interpret it like this. I want them to feel love in as many forms as they feel they need: the love from partnership (married or not), from friendship, from parenthood, from my wife and I and their siblings and other family, from themselves. I want them to feel love, but I also want them to know love: the feeling of acceptance from its requited form as much as the feeling of uncertainty that comes with falling in it.

3. self-confidence
Some would argue that true happiness cannot come without confidence in oneself, and that may be a reasonable argument. However, I do feel the two can exist without one another (especially being self-confident yet unappreciated, leading to unhappiness), so I am explicitly including it as well. I want my kids to be self-assured enough to refuse to accept what is unreasonable: if they are being disrespected, I want them to love themselves enough to stand up to their asshole boss (or spouse or "friend") and know that they are right.

4. feel safe/secure
This is something I feel is an innate need for me as a father: I am their protector, their shield, and I want to make sure that they always feel the way I make them feel right now as young children (namely, that "everything is OK"). I want them to have that feeling for the rest of their lives, either from within (ideally) or from another person.

5. financial stability
Perhaps this has to do with the financial instability I felt as a child, perhaps it has to do with my role in our family as sole breadwinner, perhaps it reflects a deep-seated materialistic streak I don't want to admit to myself. Whatever the root cause, I feel that some level of financial stability (not necessarily wealth, although it would be comforting to know they can afford the "good" nursing home) is important.

The rest of my list rounds out like this:
6. health
7. be honest
8. social success
9. become a leader
10. have children of their own
11. artistic (visual, dramatic, musical) success

So, what do you think? Were you surprised by how difficult it was to assign priorities to stuff? Did the responses from others (including me) surprise you? Did the statistics make sense? Were they what you expected?

What Do You Want For Your Children?

I'm still sick, so today's post isn't going to be very prolific. However, I think it will prove interesting. (And as a complete aside, today's song is one of my all-time favourites. Give it a listen.)

Desperately Wanting - Better Than Ezra
Before we get to today's post, I have to acknowledge that it would appear (based on the comments) that the results of yesterday's experiment were at best "undecided" (well, except for my children, for whom I can make videos like this all the time). I knew it was too long, but honestly I was too wiped to try and edit. If I try it again, it'll be shorter. As for the blinking/talking mask, I'll see if I can come up with something better. If not, you can always minimize the browser window, or switch tabs, and just listen.

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As parents, we all want what is best for our children. However, as the old adage goes, "you cannot have it all". The following list of words and phrases includes things we want for our kids. What I want from you is to choose as many as are important to you (at least five, please) and rank them from most to least important. (No cheating: each rank can only be used once.) Please post your answers in the comments, and feel free to explain your rankings as well if you so desire. Also, if there is something you feel I missed, please include it (and its rank) in your comment.

Note: Items marked with an asterisk (*) apply to them primarily as adults. The rest apply to their lives as a whole.

The List

• academic success
• artistic (visual, dramatic, musical) success
• athletic success
• be honest
• become a leader
• bravery or fearlessness
• cultural experiences (plays, museums, symphonies)
• education (post-secondary)
• employed*
• feel safe/secure
• financial stability*
• happiness
• have children of their own*
• health
• love
• married*
• physically attractive
• praise
• professional success*
• self-confidence
• social success
• spiritual or religious
• wealth (as opposed to financial stability)*
• well-travelled

On Monday I will post some statistics on the results, as well as my own priorities (with explanations). I think this will be interesting.

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As an added bonus (mostly because I think it's pretty cool), I am going to share a drawing that Munchkin gave me yesterday. Does she know her Daddy or what?


click to enlarge (and make text legible)
The unlabelled drawing is also available for viewing.

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I am still running that giveaway over at my review blog. Click over for your chance to win one of three sets of nine books selected for Dads and Grads.

And Now For Something Completely Different

Brain Stew - Green Day
We are trying something new today, folks. If you don't see the video embedded below, you can watch it at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hqb2btqufD0 (also: please let me know in the comments if the embed failed).


So, what did you think? Liked it? Loved it? Hated it? Let me know in the comments.

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I am also running a giveaway over at my review blog. Click over for your chance to win one of three sets of nine books selected for Dads and Grads.

Buddy Signing

Signe - Eric Clapton
When Munchkin was an infant, MTM took her to a Mommy and Me class for baby signing, which is essentially simplified ASL for babies. The theory (which has proven correct, at least in our home) is that infants have the intelligence to communicate long before they have the faculties of speech, so teaching them a non-verbal method of communication should enable them to express themselves earlier. (Ironically, we were inspired by my sister who we thought did it with her two kids; in fact, all she taught them was the sign for "more".)

We started modelling signs for Buddy at an early age, and in the beginning he would imitate them inconsistently. Recently though, he has started to use them more frequently, although not exactly with "textbook" accuracy.

Milk
Standard Sign: open and close fist while moving hand up and down, the motion is to simulate milking a cow (example)
Buddy Variation: hand out, wiggle all fingers (he's actually pretty good with this one)

More
Standard Sign: all five fingertips touching, bring hands together in front of you so that all ten fingertips touch, repeat (example)
Buddy Variation: clap hands, spraying whatever pureed food is on them everywhere

Mommy
Standard Sign: hand open and flat, fingers separated and pointing up, thumb touching middle of chin (example)
Buddy Variation: grab chin as if plotting evil takeover of world

Drink
Standard Sign: shape hand and fingers as if holding a glass, simulate drinking motion (example)
Buddy Variation: hand out, wiggle all fingers (the consumption of any liquid is "milk")

Bath
Standard Sign: make fists with thumbs pointing up, rub up and down in alternating directions on torso (example)
Buddy Variation: randomly hit belly and chest with open hands (often with uncomfortable sounding smacks on bare skin)

Diaper Change
Standard Sign: make fists with both hands, bring together one on top of the other, alternate, repeat if desired (example)
Buddy Variation: clap hands with more of a wiping motion, as in "eww... this is going to be messy"

Daddy
Standard Sign: hand open and flat, fingers separated and pointing up, thumb touching middle of forehead - same sign as Mommy, but on forehead not chin (example)
Buddy Variation: hand partially open, back of hand resting on side of forehead, appearing as if he should be a southern belle in Gone With the Wind saying, "I do declare!"

Thank You
Standard Sign: palm flat, fingers together, bring fingertips to chin and away (example)
Buddy Variation: none; his sense of entitlement is exceptionally strong

There are a number of resources available on the web for signs you can use with your baby or non-speaking toddler. Here are a few I found:

• http://www.babies-and-sign-language.com/glossary-photos.html - probably the best for baby signs
• http://www.signwithme.com/002_browse_signs.asp - fairly wide range of words, with videos
• http://www.lifeprint.com/ - more of a standard ASL dictionary, but a wide range of terms
• http://www.kindersigns.com/anim_dictionary.html - smaller set of terms, but includes videos to better demonstrate the signs

What about you and your children? Did you try baby sign language with any of them? How did it go? Do they still use some of them today?

Follower

Secure Yourself - Indigo Girls
I have mentioned before that I was a follower in high school (not surprisingly, I was also one in elementary school), and that something clicked when I went to university (read the linked post for details), where I embraced my inner drum beat and marched to it alone. Ever since then, I have always embraced independence and confidence in oneself, whether it's at work or even in blogging.

As much as I am worried about my daughter making friends when she starts school in the fall, I am also concerned about what her nature will allow her to do in the name of friendship.

Two separate episodes from the past week have made me question her decision making skills when it comes to peer pressure (or as close to peer pressure as can exist between preschoolers). In the first one, MTM had taken a neighbourhood girl for a walk along with Munchkin and Buddy. The girls walked ahead, holding hands, while MTM followed with Buddy in the stroller. They came to a street crossing point, and MTM told them to wait for her. The neighbourhood girl (who is a bit younger than Munchkin) continued to cross the street, and Munchkin followed willingly despite a) MTM having just told her not to and (more importantly) b) the fact that Munchkin knows she is not allowed to cross any streets without an adult (yes, even our relatively traffic-less suburban street). She will not even chase a ball that rolls on to the road, even if she can reach it from the curb, because she knows she isn't allowed.

The second one came when Munchkin had a friend over. They were playing in her room when she called down because the friend had gotten into a box of cards and photos (MTM calls it a "memory box") and Munchkin knew this was forbidden. MTM came up and explained that they weren't allowed in that box without an adult, and went back downstairs. When they came down for lunch, MTM saw something on Munchkin that made her check the bedroom upstairs (I forget what... stickers from inside that box maybe?) where she found the entire box's contents strewn across the room. This box has sat (and continues to sit) untouched in Munchkin's room. Sometimes she wants to look inside, and asks MTM or myself for help because she knows that's the rule.

I know: kids will be kids; they will make mistakes and choose the wrong things because their friends or peers make the same choice. It's part of being a kid, part of growing up, part of learning, blah blah blah. The thing is, it's not in her nature to disobey, so she was doing that sort of stuff because other kids influenced her to do so.

It may be unrealistic, but I want her to be herself. I want her to believe in herself and her ideas and her convictions strongly enough to choose them over other people's. It took me a long time to figure this out (a lot longer than it should have, in my opinion), and I don't want her to fall into the same traps that I did. I was so desperate for acceptance that I did stuff I cannot justify, like cheating on tests (for the record - not that it matters anymore - I was the source of the information; if anything, my grades suffered because I took time out of my test writing to feed answers to several other classmates). I don't want that for her.

Since these two things happened, I've been trying to figure out the best way to encourage her to be confident in her decisions, and to not be a follower. It won't just benefit her in the long run with self esteem, but also in the short term because people (not just kids) respond to confidence, so it will help her gain friends. So far the only idea I have is the typical one: to verbally tell her that she doesn't have to follow other kids, and that people who make her do stuff she doesn't want to do aren't really good friends.

Anyone out there have any other ideas? What have you done with your own kids? What helped you figure out how to be your own person instead of a follower?

Buddy At Eight Months

Spiderbaby (Yeah-Yeah-Yeah) - White Zombie
Dear Buddy,

Today, my son, you turn eight months old. Yes, it has been two months since I wrote one of these letters. I skipped last month for two reasons: one, your changes have slowed down somewhat now, and two, I can no longer share your face with the internets, and I am guessing these "letters" will not have the same charm without your cheerful countenance. However, Mommy thinks you will enjoy reading these someday, so I will continue, probably every other month or so.

Since your last update you have branched out in the food department. You now eat meats (chicken, beef and lamb) but your favourite seems to be pork ribs (when I can distract Mommy long enough to let you gnaw on one or two... or three...). You eat the pureed meats mixed with veggies (usually squash or sweet potato) and rice, often with two spoons (to ensure maximum feeding speed). You also eat pieces of some food like bananas, avocado, canned peaches, Nutrios, teething biscuits, and rice crackers. You prefer to feed yourself (even the pureed stuff), which makes dinner rather messy.

Fortunately, you love your bath, and now know the cues when it is coming. All I have to do is show up shirtless in your room (you like to splash a lot) while Mommy is changing you and you start to kick and squeal and hyperventilate as you say "ba ba ba" and rub your arms on your torso in an attempt to sign for bath. Unfortunately, you are developing core strength and can now raise your head about six inches off the floor of the tub; sadly not enough to enable you to sit up, so you eventually tire out and drop your head (sometimes with a thud if I can't catch it... sorry).

On the mobility front, save for the occasional attempt at getting on all fours, you're still pretty immobile. On non-carpeted surfaces you can rotate quite nicely, although directional movement eludes you at present.

Bath isn't the only utterance you have. I am "da da da" and Mommy is "ma ma ma". Your big sister is still your favourite non-lactating family member, and you have recently begun saying the last syllable of her name when calling for her. Your signs are getting more clear and closer to the actual ASL signs. You now sign for Daddy consistently, as well as Mommy, milk, eat, bath, poo, and diaper change. You happily wave hello and good bye, and have just last week started to clap when people shout "yay!" (but only if they don't say it too loudly, which makes you cry).

You sit up quite well, and can play happily on your play mat with toys (like trucks) with or without your sister. Right now you love things that light up and make noise, or that can fit in your mouth. Of the former type, you like Baby Tad as well as the baby symphony (more properly known as the Sparkling Symphony Baby Composer). Of the latter, you like the small Spider-Man beanie and your sister's Upsy Daisy.

You also love tv, but I'm not supposed to admit that I let you watch it for five minutes here and there when you're inconsolable because Mommy thinks tv is the devil's tool and will rot your brain.

Some time ago, you got into the habit of sleeping with Mommy, and we have yet to break you of it. Some nights you will go down in your crib nicely at bed time (also known as "the nights where Mommy nurses you to sleep") while others you will wail pitifully and only sleep in my arms (also known as "the nights where Mommy dares to try and have a life"). We're working on it, but you seem to have inherited Mommy's stubbornness (just like your sister... don't listen to what Mommy tells you: she is way more stubborn than I am... remember, I'm the flexible one that lets you eat ice cream and lick doritos).

Finally, I would be remiss if I did not mention how close we have gotten these past few months. You are genuinely happy to see me when I come home, often leaping out of Mommy's arms to get to me. We can sit and play and sing (you have started to try and "sing" along lately) for quite some time before you tire of me and seek more feminine surroundings. I have even had more success luck getting you to sleep when you're feeling particularly like an insomniac.

I love you so very much, my little man. You are becoming a sweet and loving little boy with every day that passes. You are curious and determined and passionate about what you like (and don't like). You have so much to say and nowhere near the words and signs to say it. I am so curious to hear what you're thinking; I am certain it will be insightful and amazing.

Love,
Daddy