How We Purchased Our House

Today's post is brought to you courtesy of my friend LD, author of the blog Working On Perfect, by way of her comment on my writer's block post. In her comment, she asked,

You one time referred to when you were buying your house. I'd be fascinated to hear what went into your house hunt, what you were looking for, etc because I can only imagine the sort of lists you and MTM would create.

I'm afraid that LD may have her expectations set a little high for this story, but regardless, she asked, so I shall answer.

MTM and I paid for the bulk of our wedding ourselves, and while we didn't go into debt to pay for it, she we didn't exactly work within the traditional budgeting model of always leaving a little bit in savings. ("Hey! It was our wedding!" she is saying right now.) So, our plan was: marry in the summer of 2003, buy a house in the summer of 2004, get pregnant in the summer of 2005. (For the record: the munchkin was born in March 2005. So, uhm, that plan? Not so good.)

However, once we settled out the finances (and deposited all the cash gifts from my side of the family - seriously, doesn't the european tradition of giving cash for a wedding present make so much more sense than a blender?) I did a little bit of math and some quick online research (to get current mortgage rates, housing prices, et cetera) and concluded that we could afford to buy a house sooner than we had expected, actually we could afford to buy right away: August 20, 2003.

The next day we booked a couple of houses to view that were at the lower end of my calculated budget. We arrived at the first house and MTM was mortified. She would tell me later that she thought to herself, "I'd rather raise a family in our basement apartment than this house." When the agent arrived, he immediately said, "You're not interested in this house. This is an investment property, and that means if you can afford to buy it, you aren't willing to live in it."

Instead of a tour, he gave us a 30 minute lesson on the real estate market. Seller agents, buyer agents, what neighbourhoods still had electric heat, where the newer homes were, and so on. We looked at one more nightmare lower cost home that evening, and went home.

That night we decided that the first agent (the helpful teacher) would be our buyer agent. We called him and had him line up some houses for us to look at based on MTM's comments to him during our lesson. (My own list of demands was exceptionally demanding: indoor plumbing and electricity.)

We went with him the next evening and looked at a number of houses. One house in particular caught my fancy, but it was too close to a major road and was a model so (according to MTM) none of the fixtures matched which (according to MTM) was a bad thing.

A few days later, the agent called. Another agent in his office was about to list another house on the same street as the one I liked but was finished (according to MTM) haphazardly. He had seen the photos and thought MTM would really like it.

So, that Saturday we showed up 30 minutes before the first open house and walked through. MTM fell in love immediately. We indicated a desire to place an offer, but learned the owners would not be available to negotiate until Sunday.

Sunday morning (September 14), we went back and forth about three or four times, settling on a price within about an hour. Closing date? October 17. So in less than two months we went from "we can't afford to buy a house this year" to having stuff in our new house. Unfortunately, that doesn't leave much time for "lists". Sorry LD.

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I also have a new post up at Babies Online, where I talk about parents who forgot their three year old at the airport.

The Shame Of Dryness

I am writing this post as a sort of social experiment. I have no doubt that the majority of readers on this site are women, however there are a select number of men who read and occasionally comment here. It is my belief that by humiliating myself in the following manner will prompt merciless taunting from other dad bloggers, and that for once I will have more males than females comment here.


Last week, as I was making my way to BFF, my nose began to itch. So, I started to scratch it. I felt the side of my nose and thought, Dude, that's not an itch! That's skin peeling off! And because I have a bizarre thing with stuff that can be removed from my face (I have to consciously stop myself from pulling out all the hairs on my eyebrows) I picked at it and peeled off tons of dead skin on both sides of my nose.

Then I looked down at my dark green shirt.

Fuck. Now I look like I have the nastiest case of dandruff. And I'm going to meet a bunch of people for the first time. Niiice.

So I brushed off my shirt and spent the rest of the day consciously trying to not touch my nose.

I repeated the exercise a couple more times over the week that I was alone, and then on Saturday (our anniversary, while on our date) MTM said to me, "Weird. Your nose is doing that peeling thing it did on our wedding day. You need to take care of it."

"Like what? I'm peeling it all the time!" I replied.

"No, you need cream on it."

"I tried using aftershave cream. It didn't work."

"No, you need my cream."

So, instead of drawing this story out any longer, I'll just say this: My name is SciFi Dad, and I use moisturizer. Women's moisturizer. On my face.

(But I put it on with a dull hunting knife.)

Quotes

Sometimes, you can learn more about a person from the people around them than from the person himself. With that in mind, these are all things that were either said to me or about me, along with the source and (where applicable) the context.


"You're the closest thing to the devil that I've ever met."
- random girl during Frosh Week

"You spray paint like a vandal."
- a friend who was helping me spray paint a futon frame black

"Kill this child now before he has a chance to breed."
- my high school physics teacher

"You're like a wall, except you move."
- a very drunk friend who leaned on me as we walked through a large crowd

"I know better than to cross you."
- one of my friends in university after I told him it was OK he was late returning my notebook (he was apologizing profusely)

"Most likely to split an atom with his bare hands."
- my high school yearbook

"All I could think was, 'What am I going to say to SciFi Dad after he gets kicked out for hitting that guy?'"
- my best friend in university after she was knocked over by a drunk guy in a bar

"Even though I know you as well as I do, I still don't think I'd ever want to date your daughter."
- a friend's husband

"You may be the captain, but from now on you do not make a decision without SciFi Dad's approval, because he has the ability to separate reason from emotion."
- my high school quiz team ("Reach For The Top") teacher moderator to the team captain (and my best friend at the time)

"You're such a nice boy. Why do you dress the way you do?"
- elderly woman who rode beside me on a train from Toronto to Montreal when I was 21

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I also have a new post up at Babies Online, where I present a situation and ask what would you do? Please click over and leave a comment if you can.

The Good, The Bad, And The Ugly

Today, we've got a little bit of everything: some good, some bad, and even a little ugly (because everybody knows that it's the ugly that keeps people coming back for more, right?)


The Good

• It took the munchkin nearly an hour to become coherent yesterday when she got home from the CBC Kids thing. She got so much swag, and a Doodlebops t-shirt, that she was beside herself.
• It's Friday. The weekend is here.

The Bad

• After Tuesday's rain storm, we had water in our basement. It wasn't a lot like some people got, but it still showed that we had a leak. Insurance has informed us we're not covered for this type of damage, so we're getting quotes from contractors.
• We were supposed to visit my sister and her family this weekend. MTM and I were going to stay in a hotel and the munchkin was going to have a sleepover with her cousins. Now? My nephew has lice and we're out the hotel charge because I took the "non-refundable" rate.

The Ugly

• We think we may have found the cause for my sickness. My right leg (the one with the the plate) is bright red and very hot. I hope to see my GP today to determine if it is indeed what MTM believes it is (an infection, in a limb with a two year old incision)

Sick Day

I had booked today off as a vacation day. CBC Kids was having some kind of show downtown, where my daughter would be able to see Super Why, Bo On The Go, Curious George, and even The Doodlebops. It was like preschooler nirvana.

Then, yesterday around the lunch hour, I started to feel achy, getting chills and my head felt foggy. I pushed through the rest of the day, and after having my departure from the client site delayed by an hour by someone who really didn't care how I felt, just that his system did what he wanted, I went home.

I crashed in bed for a couple of hours, then in the recliner in our room for another hour. I finally got downstairs where I half-heartedly ate some dinner (it was 8pm by this point) and watched some television. I went to bed, hoping it would pass.

It didn't.

I wanted to feel well enough to go downtown today. But sometimes wanting isn't enough. So, about 10 minutes ago, they left for the show, and I'm spending the day here. Just add it to the list of things I miss out on, except this time it's not because I have to work.

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Thanks to everyone who commented yesterday. You guys had some good "and then I got married" lines.

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I've got a recipe post up at Chop. Stir. Mix. today, for braciola.

What's In A Name?

It's Monday, and usually on Monday I write a recap telling you about all the exciting things I did over the weekend. I do this mainly because I spend so little time with my wife and daughter during the week that my weekends are chock full of family time. This weekend was no different, but I feel like it can be summarized rather easily.

• Saturday morning I took the munchkin out for a daddy-daughter breakfast date, and afterward we went to the mall, where the munchkin and I again sat side by side eating popcorn chicken in the food court (other highlights include: my wife not putting us into debt despite being at a different mall with new! exciting! stores!)
• Sunday found us lounging around most of the day, and having an impromptu dinner party with our neighbours (including a fabulous risotto compliments of yours truly, which their 20 month old loved)

Exciting, no?

It may not have been a blog worthy weekend, but it was a good one in our books. I got a lot of time with the munchkin, and was able to offer MTM some extra sleep time (note that I said offer some extra sleep time; unfortunately she could not capitalize on it either morning).


Today in lieu of a more detailed recap, I want to talk about identity. There are some readers who have been with me since I started "daddy blogging" back in June of 2006. At that time I went by my real name (as did MTM). In February of 2007, for reasons of privacy, I switched to a pseudonym (and eventually reposted all the stuff from June to February with edits): SciFi Dad.

I've been SciFi Dad for over a year now, and while it does give an indication of my personality (or at least one thing I enjoy), I feel like it: a) conjures a persona (i.e. a geeky loser) that I'm not sure is accurate and b) suggests content that, while occasionally hinted at, isn't really the focus of this blog. In truth, I haphazardly chose the moniker because it "worked with" this blog's title (the inspiration for this title was Star Wars... i.e. Tales From The Dark Side; not that there is such a title in the Lucas universe, but you get my meaning).

I've been toying with the idea of renaming myself. I don't think I want fill in the blank Dad, since that will likely have the same net result (pigeon-holing me and/or this blog). No, I've been considering borrowing a page from Chag of Cynical Dad and creating characterized names for my family (sorry to burst anyone's bubble, but his kids aren't Zoey and Zed, and he isn't married to Ella).

So, my question to you all is multi-faceted. Should I drop the pseudonym SciFi Dad, or has it become too synonymous with me and this blog to drop now? If you think I could drop it, do you think I should go with a different fill in the blank Dad? If so, what do you suggest? If not, what do you think my pseudo-real name should be? What about my wife and daughter? I'm not making any promises to go with the majority on this one or anything, but I'd really appreciate some feedback. (Note that the first person to suggest Multi-tasking Daddy will be banished forever. You have been warned.)

Thanks in advance for all your feedback.

Writer Participation - Part 3

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

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


Mandy asked:

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

Sam asked:

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

Finally, mamatulip asked:

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

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

Writer Participation - Part 2

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

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


Now, back to the answers.

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

Tara asked:

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

AndreAnna asked:

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

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

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

Really Bad Teenage Poetry Vol. 1

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

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


The Journey

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Writer Participation - Part 1

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


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

MTM asked:

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

Cass asked:

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

Audience Participation Time!

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Birth

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


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

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

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

"Fine. Come in Sunday."

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

"OK. Monday then."

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wings Win!

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


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

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


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

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

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

Early Memories

Most experts say that a child remembers nothing before the age of two or three, and that most memories before the age of five are fragmented and relatively incomplete. Sure, some people will claim to have many early memories, but most of those are actually reconstructions of events based on stories they have been told by parents and photos they have. Think about it: how many memories do you have that weren't told to you by your parents, of which there is no photographic evidence?


As a young child, I used to have a recurring nightmare (dream?):

I am in my parent's bedroom, and it was night time. They are both sleeping, and I notice that their furniture is the old set they got rid of when I was maybe six or seven. I want desperately to reach them, but something unseen is preventing me. Everything feels large and obtuse; I am unable to grasp anything properly. I am confused, and all I want is to get to my parents.

The nightmare was relatively frequent (maybe once or twice a week) as a young child of maybe eight or nine, and became less frequent as time marched on. I had it into my twenties, but it has been a number of years since I have had it.

One day while I was in university, I was visiting my parents. The topic turned to recurring dreams, so I recounted mine. I made note that the weirdest part was that the bedroom set was the old one, something that hadn't been in our house in nearly 20 years. My mother's eyes widened. She brought me to their room and asked me to stand where I was in my dream.

Apparently, I stood exactly where I used to stand as an infant when my crib was in my parent's room. I always stood in the same spot, according to my mother: at the corner furthest from the corner of the room where my crib sat. Analyzing the other details (wanting to get to my parents - an instinctive infant desire, something blocking me - the crib bars, everything seeming large and obtuse - being an infant with poor fine motor skills) made us conclude that my "dream" was actually a memory fragment of waking up in my crib in my parent's room in the middle of the night.

The strangest part? I moved out of my parent's room at six months.

Now, I have a few conscious memories too. I remember being three or four and recreating the nativity with my younger sister instead of taking a nap in our bed (we shared a double bed as kids). (She remembers that we had funerals for dead flies on the windowsill; I have no recollection of such events.)

And I remember the summer I turned five my father took me on a "guys only" road trip to northern Quebec to visit my aunt (in his mint green Ford Gran Torino... man how I hated that car back then, but I'd love to have it now). On the way I had filled my green pail with the yellow handle full of small stones to give to my aunt to put on her driveway. When my father saw the bucket of stones in between my feet, he chastized me and said we would have to get rid of them. So, I opened the door to the car while it was moving at about 100km/h (about 60mph) and started to dump them out. My father reached over and shut my door.

So what do you think? Is my nightmare really a nightmare, or is it a memory? What are your earliest memories as a kid? Do you have many memories before the age of five?

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I also have a post up at Babies Online where I ask the question: Do Real Men Wear Yellow?

SFD: Six Degrees

Today, dear reader, I am going to take you on an adventure through the blogosphere. However, (as some of you may have come to expect from me), instead of a bland list of links with some minor commentary from yours truly, we will follow the path I took from blog to blog. It will be a "six degrees of separation Kevin Bacon" sort of thing, except without the bacon (mmm... bacon...)

Also note that this isn't an exhaustive list of everyone who I read, or who reads this blog. It is a collection of blogs that I've been reading for a while that I wanted to trace a path to.


Around The World by Daft Punk
In the spring of 2006, my wife started blogging (on her old, now defunct, blog) but I didn't really read it, instead leaving her to write in peace. I had started and stopped several blogs previously, so I knew about the concept. Then, in April of 2006, I broke my ankle and was laid-up for a while. During that time, I happened to read an article in a parenting magazine about dad blogs, and got the link to Laid-Off Dad from there.

Having read all of Laid-Off Dad's posts (literally; I went to the first post and read from the beginning over the course of a week), I was eager to read something else, so I prompted my wife for suggestions. She hadn't blogged since my injury, being too busy, but she was starting up again, so I read her stuff. Then one day she added a blog roll, and from there I discovered Rebecca Eckler's blog, ninepounddictator.

From ninepounddictator, I learned about reading the comments to find new bloggers. Using this method, I found Haley and her blog, The Cheaty Monkey. Through Haley directly, I found her friend (and now mine) Ali of Cheaper Than Therapy and Chris of Rude Cactus (through whom I found his wife, Beth of so the fish said), and through Haley's blog roll I discovered Rockstarmommy (from whom I found steenface!, Dad Gone Mad and Chag of Cynical Dad [where I found Mama Tulip]).

It was around this time that Laid-Off Dad mentioned MetroDad in one of his posts, and made me an instant fan once I clicked through.

Back to my wife's blog roll I went, in search of more bloggers. There I found Her Bad Mother, who asked me to join Better Than a Playdate (at the time known as MommyBlogsToronto) where I met motherbumper and Redneck Mommy, and where Motherhood Uncensored found me (and subsequently I found her). In Her Bad Mother's comments I also found IzzyMom (who in turn invited me to write for Moms Speak Up, which is where Julie Pippert found me, and I her.)

Of course, not everyone I have "discovered" were part of an active attempt on my part. First, a friend of mine who I met through my sister years ago found me through a comment I left on ninepounddictator, and shared her blog, Becspeak, with me. Then, a reader of my wife's clicked over and became my first "stranger" comment: Miss Perfect of Working on Perfect. Finally, more recently, AndreAnna of Diary of a Modern Matriarch found me as well.

So there you have it: a brief tour of the blogosphere through my footsteps. If you are so inclined, take a moment to click through and read some of the blogs that are unfamiliar to you, and while you're there, leave a comment. Also, if anyone else out there wants to go through a similar exercise, I'd be fascinated to read it, so please leave a link in the comments, or email me, and I'll include it at the end of this post.

And for those interested, here is a graphical representation of my wife's "tree" (click to enlarge):

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I also have a new post up at Babies Online, where I take a look at the changing nature of fatherhood.

SFD: The Requisite Car Post

Somewhere, deep in the archives of the interweb, there are a set of rules about blogging. In and among those rules are a series of requirements for male bloggers to retain their man status. One such requirement is that every blog authored by a man has a car post. This is mine.


Drive by Incubus
I took the written test for my learner's permit the day I turned 16. Less than three months later I got my full license (let us all pause and laugh at the kids who must suffer through graduated licensing).

A year after that, I got my first car: an eight year old compact that was previously the family car (technically my parents gave it to me so I could drive my mother and sister around and allow my father to dump those duties on to me). It was crap, with only an AM/FM radio and no air conditioning. It would blow the transmission, with a girl in the car, in front of a strip club, a year later. Its battery would die on me while I was driving uphill after my high school graduation, forcing me to push it uphill in a suit until a kind soul with a truck pushed me, bumper to bumper, to a gas station and gave me a boost so I could drive it home.

I went away to university, and my father drove that car into the ground, literally. When I was in third year, my parents concluded that I would not need the education nest egg they had put aside for me (all hail co-op and scholarships) and made me an offer: they cash in "my" GICs and give me their car (a five year old compact of the same variety as my first car which was blessed with both A/C and a cassette player). I drove that car for the next four years, until one day the automatic transmission started shifting gears when I turned left (I so wish I was making this up).

Having graduated two years prior, and subsequently having saved some dough, I traded my slowly dying compact for a full-sized coupe with leather interior, power everything (it even had heated seats!) and a substantial engine. I loved that car; it was the first vehicle I owned that was me. It was the car I was driving the night of my first date with MTM (and though she will sometimes deny it, that car was part of why she fell for me).

When the lease came due MTM announced that since it was a coupe, it needed to be returned, and that something more practical be purchased instead (and the money previously set aside to buy out the car could be put towards other uses... say, a wedding). So, we got a minivan, and for the next couple of years I drove it.

Then, one fateful day at the end of March, 2005, everything changed. The munchkin was born, and with that event came the fact that MTM would be a stay at home mom, and would drive the better safer van while I would inherit the only crap car she could afford on a teacher's salary her car. In a nutshell, I got screwed (and then nine months later, I got screwed again; heh I'm so funny). That car has been the bane of my existence for the past three years. The washer fluid lines freeze whenever it's cold outside, the A/C has rarely worked properly, it goes through brakes like tissues, and is just generally a piss-poor excuse for transportation. Its current "fix it" list includes: the A/C (and not just a recharge; we paid for that twice last year... it's the compressor), the rear defroster (I drove most of this winter without one), the blower fan (it has one speed: gale force winds that dry your eyeballs), and the electrical (the odometer display randomizes when accelerating).

But this afternoon, all that will end, for last week I discovered an insane deal for a brand new sedan variant of my blessed (and oft longed for) full sized coupe, long since passed. When I took it for a test drive, it was like slipping on an old glove. It will cost us the same cash price as MTM paid for her POS compact eight years ago (that's how good the deal is) when I pick it up tonight.

So last night, I took the munchkin outside and told her to say goodbye to the car. At first she was sad, and lamented its demise. But then I told her that I would be replacing it with the big car she saw at the car store last week, and she said, "OK. Bye bye black car. See you later."

Not if I can help it.

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Other Blogs

Those observant readers may notice a new button in the "Other Blogs" section in my right sidebar. Yes, I have (yet another) new writing gig. Starting today, I'll be a guest blogger over at Babies Online - The Blog. My first post isn't up yet, but you can check back here later for a direct link (or you can subscribe to the BOTB feed and wait for it). My post on secondary infertility went up late today.

I also neglected to tell you that I've been moved to Tuesdays over at Better Than A Playdate, and that I posted last week about Earth Day. In the future, you can check my archives at http://www.betterthanaplaydate.com/daditorial_1/index.html.

Although I have asked this question in the past, I will inquire again since there are new readers: should I take the time here to inform you when I have a new post somewhere else? (In other words, do you care about when I post elsewhere, or are you just here for Tales From The Dad Side?) Please let me know either in the comments or in an email (see my profile for the address). Thanks.

SFD: Pick The Lies - Results

First of all, a big Thank You to all who played yesterday.

Congratulations to mamatulip who was the first (and only) person to correctly identify all three lies. (She was also the first commenter of the day. For the record, the first guess of the day came from my wife, with 1, 4, and 5 being lies.)


Lies by Evanescence
Let's move along and look at the "facts" again:

1. I have incredibly good aim with a bow and arrow. I can hit a two inch diameter metal pole from 40 feet away, at dusk.

Status: FALSE
Most of you correctly guessed that this was false. However, interestingly enough, the anecdotal portion (hitting the pole at dusk) was true - about my father. He actually took my uncle's hunting bow and said, "The target is too big. I will hit that pole instead." And then he did.

2. My first encounter with the death of someone I knew was when I wa