Inoculations

by Phil

It is my hypothesis that the sole purpose of toddlers within world ecology is the harboring and continued existence of viruses. Sure, within human relationship they offer their parents all sorts of joy and blah blah blah. But within the world as a whole, they are essentially virus farms.

Simply, they are germ bags.

I say this now because my son has shared his virus harvest with me and we have both been intensely sick all week.

My son has had a rough week and a half. Last Tuesday, we took him into the doctor for his sixteen month check up where he received 4 vaccinations. He had a slight reaction to them, which led to grumpiness and fever for the next two days.

That led right into the cold that he picked up somewhere. The cold involves fevers, chills, and, on top of a runny nose, a general stuffiness. So while he can't breath out of his nose, he can at least produce lots of mucus from it to run down his chin.

If that wasn't bad enough, he's also teething right now. Some of his molars are breaking through, leading to a lot of discomfort and anger. And drooling.

So he's breathing through his mouth because of the stuffiness but there's the added bonus of copious drooling because of the teething.

So lovely.

And wouldn't you know it, this happens to be the week when he picks up on the fact that our faces have different parts, all of which have names that he needs to be told immediately. Not only does his face have all of these parts but so does Dads!

Little tiny hands going right from pointing at his own snotty-drooly-mouth-nose-area to comparing those same areas on my face! Oh, and yes, those are my eyes you're poking. Thank you for the inoculations.

I seem to be about 24 hours behind him in my symptoms. It's like watching some horrible, tiny version of my future self struggle through the day with no power to change course.

Is it any wonder that I woke up this morning feeling as those someone laid asphalt over my lungs during the night? This insane congestion has settled into my chest that is so physical in nature it's hard to believe. I've never had the opportunity to compare and contrast, to be able to tell that my left lung is much more phlegm-filled than my right. I'd like to thank my son for expanding my horizons in wholly new ways that I never could have anticipated.

At this point the two of us are just struggling through as miserable heaps of misery. I'm hoping we'll come out the other side by Monday. This is his first major cold. It's kind of heartbreaking to watch a toddler go through all of this at the same time with no real understanding of what's going on or ability to do anything about it.

Luckily I have married some sort of superhero that has sailed through this miasma of pain unscathed. I don't know how she has escaped this horrible fate but I wish her luck on her virus-free trip through this life.

Don't laugh at me. I was once like you.

Halloween Hipster

by Phil

Halloween!

One of the best parts of Halloween is all of the absurd baby costumes. When babies don't have any control over their lives or haven't yet developed a fear of looking ridiculous, they offer a blank canvas of potential. It's the perfect opportunity for later, teenage embarrassment when you pull out the photos to show their friends.

Last year, when our son was only about 4 months old, we didn't do too much. We did put him in a pumpkin for a few minutes. Don't worry, the pumpkin is lined so he didn't get all goupy.

We also had a little skeleton onesie that he wore on a few occasions, including the All Souls' Processional since we were living in Tucson at the time. (Side note, try to make it to Tucson for the All Souls' Processional at least once. It's an amazing event.)

Our son rolled over for the first time on the same day as last year's procession!

So this year we wanted to put him in an actual costume. We started out with a store-bought dragon that was super cute. We were having an indoor party, though, and we were worried that the padded costume would be too warm. It would have been fine if he were older and we were going trick-or-treating outside. But indoors, it was a no-go.

Shortly before Halloween, Richmond held it's annual Folk Music festival. We went and had a great time (I'll write a post about it soon). We noticed that there was a large number of hipsters hanging around the festival, which led her to wonder aloud how hipster parents dressed their toddlers. Do they try hard (while making it look like they didn't try at all) to make their toddlers tiny hipsters? And... boom! New costume idea.

We returned the warm dragon costume and set about putting way too much thought and work into making our son the most repellent hipster we could. We succeeded in the hipster part but failed at repellent bit. He was the most adorable snob ever.

The results-

You may notice a few details about his costume. The thick-rimmed glasses, the androgyny of the purple scarf and too, too tight jeans (which are actually jeggings from the girls' department), the floppy hat and stripped socks. 

The plaid shirt clashes with the purple scarf and the lime green deep-v t-shirt (see below) in a way that says, "I don't care." The hoody is properly redundant with the floppy hat.

The right leg of his jeans is rolled up to avoid catching the chain while riding his fixie.

We worked on wearing those glasses and a hat for a week before Halloween. He looks at them as  playthings, just like everything else in the world.

Waiting for the poetry jam to start. He's got some free verse he's going to drop on the unsuspecting crowd. His sun metaphors are completely deck.

And, of course, his messenger bag has a skull on it, as do his socks. The skulls don't match, sending the message that he just can't put in the effort. 

That's a candy bracelet in his right hand there. 

As the layers get peeled off, the costume keeps going! His deep-v is also a message tee, expressing his contempt for whatever it is you like because it's clearly not obscure enough. The tee reads "That Thing You Like is Dumb" There's no punctuation. Who has time for periods?

Fingerstache! (Don't worry, it's washable marker and came off immediately.)

This one is blurry but I had to include it because the expression is classic.

And, of course, we end on the chest (temporary) tattoo that includes wings and a message.

Yeah, we tried way too hard. The hipsters would look down upon us for putting in the effort. But we had a blast. By the time he reaches his teens this costume isn't going to make any sense to him at all but we can reassure him that he was very hip and with it for awhile there.

Today he's back in regular jeans and a Superman t-shirt. The him-of-yesterday scoffs in the general direction of the him-of-today.

Surviving October

Normally, October is the month I dread. That's because it's the time when Stacey (as part of her duties as co-director of an honors program on campus) heads to Europe with her class. Sometimes, it's for two weeks, sometimes, it's for the full month.

This year, it was the latter. So, I was on my own, with Brady, for a whole month. Without help from family.

But you know what? Surprisingly, it went really smooth for me this time.

I'm sure a lot of it was the fact that Brady is now seven, and therefore a lot easier to handle. But I also think that it just boiled down to self confidence. I just felt more able to handle things on my own. I even took having no help from family or friends as a badge of honor. I could do this, and not worry that I was going to somehow burn the house down, or cause economic calamity.

That's not to say I didn't hit my wall now and then. Truth be told, it can be really lonely, and sometimes just communicating with friend through the Internet isn't quite enough. I missed Stacey; she has been possibly the only person I feel I can talk to. She's certainly the only sustained company I have in this state (we have a lot of friends that are students at Utah State. The problem is, they eventually decide to graduate, and move on).

So it's hard, from a social standpoint. It's tough when you have no one to sit down and bullshit about random things with, or watch MST3K/Rifftrax with. I really had no one to hang out with. So in that regard, this period has tended to be really rough for me.

Having stuff to do helped keep me from going too stir crazy. In previous years, I would have my comics to work on, but I was between scripts this time. So, I had no work to occupy my mind. So, I put my focus on other things, like cleaning the house, or continuing on my weight loss journey (30 pounds as of today).

I also tried to spend a lot more quality time with Brady, which I found was a bit more difficult when she was younger. Now that she's seven, it felt a lot easier to go do things, work on homework together, or just hang out and watch episodes of Beakman's World ad nauseum.

So, despite the occasional mental/emotional roadblock, I survived the month. More importantly, I think I felt like for the first time, I really had a grasp at this whole "dad" thing. That probably sounds crazy considering that I've been one for over seven years now, but I don't know if I ever felt 100% comfortable. Like I wasn't sure if I really knew what I was doing. Like I needed to defer more to Stacey and others regarding what was the right thing to do.

This year? I knew what I was doing.

One last thing: I need to give a lot of props and admiration to all the single parents out there, or the families that have one parent away from home for a long stretch of time. While it's been doable, it was difficult to do this for a month. I can't even begin to imagine what it's like when you're truly on your own, raising a child. Whether it's for a month, a year, or an indefinite period of time, my hat goes off to you all.

Guilt by Separation

By Phil

There's a certain amount of guilt that I feel whenever I have a "day off" from taking care of my son. This includes both extended periods of separation overnight and even short single-day excursions. I know it may seem crazy to many people but it's a natural reaction to the way that my life now works.

Life has a natural ebb and flow. There are periods when it doesn't seem like we can slow down to take a breath. Alternately, there are the times when it's all puppies and sunshine and relaxed weekends.  The last few weeks, there haven't been many puppies or relaxed weekends (there's still been sunshine, though). It has been nutty busy here. My wife has been working a ton and I've stepped up more than usual to make sure the house doesn't add more of a burden, to free her up as much as possible to be successful.

As a reaction, my wife declared "The Day of Phil" two weeks ago. She explicitly told me that I was to take a Saturday and do whatever I wanted. She would take our son and I would be free to do as I may. (No, this did not include debauchery. Get your minds back on track.) She told me to sleep in, explore the city, or even work (yes, long stretches of free time to work is a novelty and considered relaxing to me these days). It was a nice recognition from her for the weight that I've pulled around the house. It felt good.

As the week went on and The Day of Phil approached, the feeling of guilt that I described really came over me in earnest. However, I was determined to enjoy the day of freedom without my "extra appendage" as Angie called him recently.

Now, if someone gave you a day to do anything you wanted, including sleeping in as late as you wanted, what would you do? The start of my day is a perfect example of how my life has changed. I didn't sleep in. I actually let Angie sleep in and I got up with our son. (She let me sleep in the next day still.)

My new jogging stroller arrived that week and I was dying to try it out. What has happened to me? I was given the chance to catch up on sleep and I'd rather get up to try out a new stroller with giddy excitement.

Our son was pretty intrigued by the stroller and kept inspecting it all week...

 

...with excited results.

I've become such a giant dork. Some would tell you that this was always my natural state. Do not believe these people. They have some sort of dark ulterior motive, the goals of which are shady and sure to be destructive. Now, however... giant dork.

I was more excited about that stroller after my run than before, which seems just about impossible. In short, I love it. So does our son. I think I'm going to do a post solely about the stroller. I'm telling you, it's love. LOVE!



And you know what? I'm totally satisfied with that decision. It's one I'd make again because I had a blast running with my kid in that stroller.

So after the run, it was off for the solo part of my day. I went to the Virginia Museum of Fine Art, a place I'd been wanting to check out since we moved to Richmond. I walked around a bit and grabbed a late lunch. The freedom was fantastic. It was also strange. Every now and again, I caught myself looking for where my son had run off to or looking up thinking I'd heard him.

Within the structure of my family, my role is, primarily, to take care of my son. As much as I enjoy it, it's also my job and I feel a certain level of obligation to do it to the best of my ability- both for my wife and to ensure that my son doesn't turn out to be some sort of broken wing-nut.

The strange thing is that I have a tough time turning that part of myself off when my wife is around. I continue to feel like I should be the one doing the bulk of the work with our kid when, really, it should be an even split. But since I live with my "work," there's no real separation for me. So when she takes him for more than a few hours on her own, it's difficult for me to feel like I'm not shirking my responsibilities.

(My wife is an amazing mother who can handle any situation thrown her way. I have full confidence in her.  These feelings are completely my own and come from a place of wanting to do my job for my family. I feel like I should throw that out there for anyone who may be questioning my wife at this point. This is all me.)

I've talked with other stay-at-home parents about this and I've heard varying levels of agreement with this feeling. It's the kind of job without vacation days or sick days. When I have a migraine, I tough it out and do my best. That's not a complaint. It's a recognition of the reality of being an at-home parent.

Since there is so little space between my independent life and my life with my son, the two can blend into one big miasma. The danger is losing yourself to the job because you love your kid so much and pour so much of yourself into them.

I have an all-day conference to attend tomorrow related to my work. I won't be there when my son wakes up or goes to bed. It will be an entire day without him. Guess who's already feeling guilty about that... With recognition of the pattern though, I'm hoping I can break out of it.

Perhaps I need a few free days here and there so I can shake these feelings. Being the most well-rounded and grounded person I can be is the best way to ensure that I'll be the best father I can be.

I'm going to Philadelphia in a month for two days. How much you want to bet I'll still feel bad about it?

(Geez, this post made me sound like a crazy person!)

Where one ends, another begins

by Carlos

It's been over a month since my last blog. I've been looking all that time for a moment to write this. In a sense, this is my farewell blog. I say that not so much because my 'status' has changed, but because as a part time worker, I really just don't have a moment any more.

I thought I was busy and tired when I was at home with one kid. I thought I was busy and tired when I was at home with 2 kids. Three kids just about pushed me over the edge. They're older now, but now I'm taking care of them after school and after I get home from working as a substitute teacher; now, I'm busy and tired! What's next??? Are grand kids even more exhausting?

Anyway, not to be a stay-at-home dad has been my dream after about day 3 when I started. It's finally here.

I asked my youngest if she remembers when her sisters were at school and we used to play hide-and-seek. She used to hide under the laundry basket and she used to say, "loo can't find meeeee!" (she can't pronounce her y's). She says she doesn't remember. Well, I remember, and I liked those times. In fact, I'm a little sad now that it's over. How I dreamed of the day when I could go back to work, and the work is good. But now that it's over, I realize how much time I spent trying to escape.

I can only hope that I don't let these times slip past me. It's true; they grow up so fast.
If it's ok, I'd like to say farewell to the past 5 years of my life; I really don't know what to say... it's been good, it's been bad. For sure, it's been real. Peace to you...

And I tip my hat to all parents. I don't know how double income families do it. I'm happy I'm not them. And to all you guys who change the diapers, get up in the middle of the night, and stop the endless bickering between siblings; When you get baby shit on your hands, when your favorite shirt has vomit on it, when you have to take the car seat apart again because they had an accident, when you're at play groups and you're the only dude over the age of 3, when you have to go to 'Mom and tot' time at the library, when it seems like you're the only guy who is driving a mini van, when it seems that you have more in common with your buddy's wife because of their kids than you do with your buddy, when night comes and you have a hard time realizing what really got done that day, and when you can't even remember what day it is; brother, this time will end. Make of it what you will.

Peace

Tres

"Waaahhhhhh!"

My first thought, as I hear the human alarm clock that is my 3 month old, is "Where's my wife?"

And then the slow realization begins to overtake me. My heart begins pounding, my head sweating. There is no backup. This is a solo operation now.

My wife has gone back to work.

This summer, we were blessed with our third daughter, A. She has been a fantastic baby. It's as if Superman (that's who I assume sent her) made her super happy and super chill so that we would love having three kids. "Hey Mom! Hey Dad! I don't cry a lot; I smile a lot; you made a great decision!"

We were also very fortunate that Carrie was able to take an extended maternity leave. She was off all summer, returning to work after Labor Day. It was like she was a teacher, but without all the smoking, drinking, and threats.

Our summer was great. We hit up museums; went to the zoo; and all the other typical summer activities. We were able to run errands with minimal hassle. I was able to take a few of the day gigs I normally pass up. After all, I have a live in babysitter, who also happens to be quite the looker.

It was our best summer yet. We really loved being home together.

However, all good things stop. (or something like that)

I totally forgot what it was like to deal with a newborn exclusively. When we were both home, we can share in the diapering, playing, changing. (Carrie was in charge of the nursing; my nipples were too sensitive.) So I had to deal with all of this myself.

And not just A. But two other kids under the age of 4, both of whom, demand more attention every day. L & E were both sad to see their mom go. But I've got to say they've both been a big help. We always assumed L would be a great help, being of the first born persuasion. But E surprised us, but only a little. We thought she'd have a harder time with A. She was our baby before, but now she was the big sister. And she took it on with gusto. She's been as helpful as L ever was. With the two of them entertaining Ava in the bouncy seat, home maintenance has become easier.

And I miss Carrie. It's odd, that I would enjoy having my wife around to help with the kids, share in the kids experiences, and laugh with. (SARCASM) But I do. And I know she misses all of us, too. Her tearful calls from her cubicle tell us so. But she's a champ. And she does a great job supporting us. And by us, I mean Earth.

Three kids have me flustered, but happier than ever. I have to relearn how to get L prepped, and ready to go to preschool; how to keep E entertained and engaged; and how to feed/clean/clothe A. Having three kids isn't that much different than two, but enough to make me start over from scratch with routine. It's almost like learning how to walk again.

Actually, it's more like learning how to run again.

Time, Revisited

I was asked to follow up on my earlier post where I tried to change my schedule back to what it used to be like, in an attempt to get some semblance of control back in my life. If you hadn't read that post (for shame!), I talked about how my work time used to be late at night, and how that changed when Brady was born. My goal was to get back to becoming that night owl, so that I could still get my work done, yet still spend quality time with the girls.

The result? I crashed and burned.

Sadly, I'm not a young person anymore (as my upcoming 36th birthday keeps reminding me). I thought I could get by on minimum sleep (give or take an afternoon nap to catch up). But the fact is, I was still dead tired by the end of the evening. It also didn't help that Stacey now had to get up at 6am to get ready and teach her 7:30am class. So, I didn't have the option of sleeping in like I had.

So, I tried a different tactic, and got up with Stacey instead at 6am.

The result? A surprising success!

Now, do I get much art work done in that hour or two before Brady wakes up? Nope. But, it has allowed me to take care of those items that usually keep me distracted during the course of the day, but in the real world and on the Internet. It also has given me the opportunity to use the treadmill that I've been seriously neglecting.

Hell, I even managed to get this article up on time, for once!

In essence, I get to have some small bit of control back in my life. Or at least, it helps me to get on top of things.

In the few weeks I've been doing this change in my schedule, more house work has been completed, I fulfilled a few more project commitments, so I can get back to work on projects I've been neglecting, and I've dropped about ten pounds so far. Plus, I get to do all this, and spend quality time with the girls.

I'll take that as a step forward. I still have a ways to go in many aspects, but progress has been made.

And all it took was a small shift in strategy.

Little Miss Perfect

This was something interesting that popped up recently. My daughter has said wants to be absolutely, positively, perfectly perfect.

I guess it's not a recent occurrence. Rather, she finally admitted it to us last night. But we did notice that she was trying very hard to correct any and all mistakes she made. Case in point, she said something that I'd say was fairly rude. So, I called her on it. Her response was to say either one of her imaginary friends really said it, or she tried re-wording it into something else, when that wasn't what she said at all.

So, both Stacey and I called her out on that as well. That's when she told us that she just wanted to be a perfect daughter.

What?!

We were both pretty confused by this revelation. So, we talked to her about it. Specifically, that it's impossible to be perfect. It can't be done, and that it would drive you crazy to even try to become perfect. Everyone makes mistakes, we told her. It's normal. More specifically, we said it's okay to make mistakes.

"But you don't make any mistakes."

"Well, that's not true," I told her. "Mommy and I make lots of mistakes. It's a part of growing up. That's how you learn. Besides, how many times did you see me lose to Galactus in Marvel vs. Capcom 3?"

"Lots."

"See? I didn't get it right the first time."

In any case, we told her that she is a perfect daughter for us. But, that doesn't mean that she can try to pretend her mistakes never happened, or that she can pawn those mistakes off on others (real or imaginary). It's okay to be wrong; that's how we are supposed to learn.

Now whether she believe this is another story. So, I have a feeling this will be revisited again.

The Sex Talk

I think it's time. It's nothing my son is saying or doing to show his curiosity, he really, really doesn't appear to be curious at all, it's just that he's in 5th grade now and I'm hearing that that's when public schools tend to start so I'm trying to gather the courage.

When I was about 14 my mother threw a book on my bed, Preparing for Adolescence, and then ran. At the time I didn't know what she was thinking, at 14 I still wasn't a reader. Expecting me to read a book was about as preposterous as, well, as my mom giving me the sex talk. Or whatever it was she did.

It mostly stayed closed on the bed. I stared at it and listened to Ozzy through my head phones. This thing was like two hundred pages.

About two hours later she asked if I'd read it. I said "yes." we didn't look at each other. "Do you have any questions?" I said "no," when I was pretty much already out of the room. That was it, the most uncomfortable moment of my life.

So now I get the nervousness. Didn't think I would be. But I so very AM. I have to say the words erection and vagina to my 10 year old son that still thinks that you have to be in love and married to be pregnant.

Not going to be lame though, I've already started prepping. Reading about how to present it. How to (make an effort to) have him keep it to himself and not share the info with his 8 year old sister.

Not going to run the gammit just yet with STD talk and wet dreams. I think I'll do this in installments. Right now I'm going to stick with how babies come to be, and that love and marriage have nothing to do with it. Should, but don't.

Waiting for the right time. Fishing trip? Keep him home from school one day? He's going to remember this for the rest of his life. Go get ice cream? Use the banana split as an ice breaker?

He's going to know the truth about babies before he knows the truth about Santa.

Oh God, I think I'm going to be sick.

Napping Problems

by Phil

It's actually quiet right now and I will be honest with you: I'm so worn out that I just want to curl up in the corner and sleep for a year. Since I have a 13 month old son, you know that's not going to happen.

When it comes to kids, all parents, at some point, say something like, "Every time you get a handle on the situation, everything changes." This week is one of those "everything changes" weeks.

Just when it was all going so well! We were like a clockwork machine of happy living. Little tiny elves sang songs about the beauty of our lives. In short, it was glorious.

In my last post, I wrote about how well he's been sleeping. I talked about how he magically points to his crib, we lay him down, and off he goes to have adventures with Little Nemo.

Well, he has decided that he doesn't want to nap. The world is too interesting and he might miss something. You know, Dad might get some work done or the floor might get swept. It's just too riveting! So even though he can barely keep his eyes open and every little thing sets him off like it's the end of the world, he refuses to give in.

The past 5 days or so, I have been treating naptime the same as I always have. I will bounce him for a few minutes to get him drowsy and then lay him down. Within 5 minutes he's babbling loudly and generally talking. His clear aim is for me to come rescue him. (I imagine he's yelling, "I'm missing precious minutes of hindering your productivity!")

Since we use the Ferber Method of sleep training, he's on his own unless he gets upset enough to cry. After 5 minutes of crying, I go in, calm him down and put him back in the crib. If he cries again, he gets 10 minutes before I will go in. The intervals increase accordingly. Up to now, it has worked like gangbusters!

The problem I'm currently having is that he will babble and protest for up to an hour with no crying! He's clearly annoyed but also (mostly) calm. Many times, after an hour the hunger starts taking over because a sufficient amount of time has passed since his bit of grub. Since I won't let him go over an hour at any single nap attempt anyway, I rescue him and give him lunch/snack/whatever. After a break of 30 to 45 minutes, we try again. He's then so tired that he's out like a light.

He's still at the point where he needs two naps a day. When we push the first nap into later morning/early afternoon, it throws the entire rest of the day off because there's not enough space left for a second nap. He gets angry and exhausted by bedtime.

It is possible that he is transitioning from needing two naps to just one. But we're in this ugly gray period where he still needs both to properly function. When there isn't a second nap in a day, things can get tantrumy (I know that's not a word) fast. My laid back kid no longer exists because his schedule is so far off! He's been replaced by some sort of angry, drama-filled alien monster child. Perhaps he's trying out for some sort of Real Toddlers of Richmond reality show. Where are the cameras?

Going in and out of the room for the times that he does cry, worrying about whether I'm doing this properly or not, and generally dealing with this angry toddler is wearing me out!

Luckily, bedtime at night hasn't been a problem. He babbles for a few minutes and just goes to sleep. I don't know what it is about sleeping in the middle of the day but he isn't having any of it.

For now, we're staying firm with the program and giving him as solid a schedule as possible. Hopefully we'll be through this phase soon. I mean, when it comes to babies everything changes, right? So this will have to change too! For the sake of my frayed nerves, I hope it's sooner rather than later. I want my happy-go-lucky child back.

Of course, I am open to any and all advice. How do we adapt to this new situation without destroying all of the sleep training that we've already done? I'm sure I could rock him to sleep every time but I don't want him to completely lose the ability to self-soothe. Grrrrrrrrr.....

Science of Blue's Clues

I'm reading a book right now that explains some of the science behind Blue's Clues. Very cool stuff. When it comes to using all available research to develop an educational program aimed at pre-school children, they say that Blues Clues may be the perfect show.

The book is called The Tipping Point. It isn't focused on children's education or even children at all. It's about social epidemics and what causes them. Why were Hush Puppy shoes so popular? Why was Paul Revere's midnight ride so successful, but his buddy's ride was kind of lame (William Dawse, who's ride was the same night, same time, same message, just a different route)? What sparked the fall in NYC crime rates in the late 80's, early 90's? If you like social science, you really should read it.

The wild popularity of Sesame Street when all of the experts thought that it should fail was just another example. Kids weren't only watching the program and entertained by it, they were retaining a lot of what they watched, they were learning. That level of retention is what the scientists in the book called "the sticky-ness factor."

It was very good stuff, but got way more interesting when they started talking about how Blue's Clues built on, and improved on, everything that made Sesame Street work. My kids never really watched Sesame Street, they watched Blue's Clues. And the "sticky-ness factor" for Blues Clues was off the chart. It is, in fact, the sticky-est show ever stuck on TV.

So much about the show that seemed so natural and easy is actually very deliberate. Here are a few of the most interesting items.

Each episode repeats 5 times a week. That's on purpose. For preschool children, retention is a process. As far as retention goes, 5 times seems to be the perfect amount. Fewer viewings results in less retention, more results in a loss of interest.

Story format. Where Sesame Street is a mish mash of skits, each episode of Blue's Clues is a story, which has the effect of holding a child's attention longer.

Mystery aspect. The mystery aspect to the story actually increases their attention as the show progresses, lengthening attention spans. And helping to figure out what Blue is talking about engages them much more than a show that is just being shown to, or unraveled for them.

Plain language. The table is named Table. The salt and pepper shakers are named Salt and Pepper. Apparently, preschoolers retain better when plain language is used like this. They can find it confusing if the salt and pepper shakers had other names too, like Maulder and Skully. When plain language items that a child already has a name for, like mailbox, are then given another name, there's less sticky-ness.

Nothing is geared toward adults at all. it's all for pre-schoolers. Sesame Street gives a lot of winks at the adults that either confuse or bore kids, or leave them uninterested. Monsterpeice Theater was one example.

Loooooong pauses. the pauses that Steve and Joe take when waiting for the child at home to respond to something are pre-school pauses, not grown up pauses. They're awkward and excruciating to sit through sometimes, but they're on purpose.

They didn't touch on the comparison between Steve and Joe to see which is better, probably because everyone knows that it's Steve. From his remote location on Noggin, he babysat my children many times while I tried to grab a 20 minute nap.

Grown Up Time

Something very interesting happened this weekend. Stacey and I had a night where we got to be grownups. And we didn't have to be in New York to accomplish this.

I'm sure an explanation is in order (otherwise, this would be a really short journal entry).

This past weekend was a (long awaited) wedding for a couple of our friends. Festivities included camping out (and having some beer) with them and several other buddies. Now, normally, this is the type of event that would probably wouldn't happen for us, because we have Brady. It's hard to relax and have a good time with friends when half of the time, we're running around trying to keep her out of trouble.

If this was something that was happening back on the East Coast, the solution is simple: ask one of our parents if they could watch Brady (Ask? Nine times out of ten they're practically shooing us out the door so they can have their granddaughter to themselves). However, that option is out of the question, since we're back in Utah.

So, we decided we'd ask her "big sister" (her babysitter, who also happened to be going to the wedding, but wasn't staying) if she'd be interested in watching Brady that night. Not only was she okay with that, she asked if she could take Brady to the county fair that evening.

I'll admit, I was a bit nervous when that was asked. It was not that I didn't trust her taking care of Brady. I think it was really just that flash of parental "holy crap! My daughter is going to a big event...without us?" Plus, there was a tinge of sadness, in that Brady really is starting to grow up.

I said that was totally fine, just double-check with Stacey. She had no problem with that either.

So, we all went to the wedding, and had a good time. Then, it was time for the girls to head out. I put Brady in the car, and gave her a hug. And of course, she was already thinking of having fun at the fair, so Mom and Dad were (once again) relegated to Chopped Liver status.

And they were off. And we got to go back to the party. This time, as adults, not as parents.

It was a lot of fun, though once in a while, I'd hope that things were going okay with the girls. It didn't help (or perhaps it did) that we had no cell service at the camp site. So, we really had no choice but to loosen up and relax.

Turns out there was nothing to worry about. They had a wonderful time at the fair. Brady got to have fun with her Big Sister (and vice versa), and there were no problems at all once they got back to our home.

They had a good time, and so did we.

Acclimation and Regression

by Phil

Over the past month my son has acclimated to our new apartment surprisingly well. Really, overall, he handled all of the stress from the move like a pro. My wife and I were worried that he would regress some from all of the upheaval.

The last few days that we were in our old apartment, he could tell something wasn't quite right. When we were packing, he would crawl around the apartment looking at the boxes with a suspiciously. An 11 month old with a suspicious look is super cute. He wasn't exactly keen on the movers who came to load up our stuff either. His poor little world was upside down.

For his first year, we took daily pictures with little updates on a dry-erase board. It was a fun project that really evolved as it went along to become a sort of photo baby book. Below are the last three days in our Tucson apartment. He looks happy and goofy in the photos but it's fairly easy to get him to smile for photos. Just do your best pig or chicken impression. Otherwise, he was visibly uneasy those three days.

Yes, our son wears the same pajamas two nights in a row.

Then came the traveling across three time zones. It included hotel stays as well as the homes of two different family members- one in Michigan, one in Ohio. By the end week, his schedule was nearly destroyed and he had a harder and harder time falling asleep as the days passed. Before the trip, he was a baby who slept through the night. Through this period, he woke up at least once, if not twice a night, often for an hour or more. Removed from his comfort zone, he was unraveling a tad.

Apparently, it wasn't much better when they first arrived to our new apartment. (I say "apparently" because I still didn't arrive for another five days. You can read my last post for that fiasco of a car repair/road trip schedule.) When I would talk to my wife on the phone, she would tell me how he was overly clingy and wanted to be held constantly. This was the kind of behavior we were afraid of.

All of our work with sleep training and such was being undermined. But, of course, we couldn't blame our son. It was totally understandable that he react this way. We just had to work with him to get gain back what progress we has lost.

And that brings us back to the first paragraph of my post. He has rebounded as if nothing ever happened plus more. He naps twice a day again and sleeps through the night with no problem. In fact, he's so good at sleeping that, after just bouncing him for a few seconds, he actually points to his crib. I imagine he's saying, "Put me there, please!" It's completely adorable. Although, my wife, who works all day and misses him, laments the fact that she doesn't get to snuggle with him for longer before he wants to be put down.

We just rewound to an earlier point in sleep training and stuck with it. A little while back Steve wrote about co-sleeping vs the cry-it-out sleep method. We are a strict cry-it-out household. We let him cry for 5 minutes, then go in and sooth him. If he cries again, we give him ten minutes, then go in and sooth him, etc. It has worked for our son, who now goes to sleep without much complaint and sleeps through the night. Consistency, as with anything when it comes to babies, was the key. Getting back into the old routine, the old rituals and recognizable comforts worked magic on his little brain.

An addendum- When I just sat down to write, this wasn't the original subject I was going to tackle at all! Well, you'll just get this week's subject next week then. It will make a good follow up, I suppose.

Like father like daughter

by Carlos

There used to be a commercial that showed how they made Superman look like he was flying on TV. I don't know why, I guess some kids were jumping off of buildings or something, but I couldn't accept that a flying Superman was some kind of TV trick. I was 3 yrs old and I would turn the volume down on the TV, stick my fingers in my ears and sing 'la la la' until it was over (back then we only had a few channels to watch so I couldn't just change it).

TV is an influence and somehow I love it. I love movies that just draw me into another world and there, I live for a while. I get a little sad when the movie is over I have to return to reality.

For me, I don't mind the way that I am with movies. I have to respect for their power over me, though. I can't stay in TV land for too long anymore.

But when I see it in my kids, it disturbs me a little. I don't let them watch a lot because I know how addictive it is to me. We don't own cable so the kids just watch videos and I know exactly what they're watching (we don't have the bunny ears either, as if they worked as well when we were kids).

The other day, I was watching them watch the classic Fantasia (great film!). In Dance of the Hours, some ostriches are playing with fruit. As the ostriches came out, Damai claimed that she was the lead ostrich. The other girls picked out their ostrich. At one point, the lead ostrich wouldn't share her grapes, while the other ostriches are tying to pick the grapes out of her mouth. Remember, Damai has claimed that she was the lead ostrich, so Anna leans over and asks Damai, "can we have some grapes?" Damai replied in an authoratative tone, "No, they're mine." And they went back to watching the ostriches.

How precious! My girls are just like me.

Time

So, I recently purchased a PS3.

This was something that I had thought about doing for years, but just never got around to doing.

I don't seem to play a lot of video games anymore. Turns out that there's a lot of things I don't really do anymore. At least, Stacey pointed it out to me recently. I guess I've been so busy with things, I hadn't noticed.

And that right there is the problem: I just haven't felt like I have time.

It doesn't make sense, when I think about it, though. I used to do a ton more things in a day, and still manage to get it all done, hang out, play games, and generally relax. What could have changed things so radically?

Oh, right. Parenthood.

The thing is, it's not parenthood that's the issue. Not directly, at least. It's the schedule change. See, I used to be much more of a night owl than I am currently. I would do most of my art and comic work (which turned out to be my most creative time) well into the night, crawl into bed around four in the morning, sleep until 10 am, take care of house stuff and other projects, hang out with Stacey when she got home until she went to sleep, and then get to drawing. I'd even manage to sneak in a quick game on my PS2 here and there. It was a pretty functional schedule.

That changed pretty abruptly once Brady came around.

Now, I couldn't work as late as I used to, mostly because sleep had become a precious commodity. The late night routine got thrown out the window, replaced by working when feasible, and sleeping when possible.

Yeah, that really threw me for a loop. And what's funny is that it has continued to throw me for a loop, even as Brady as grown older. That's because I reached such a level of acceptance of the chaos, that I never actually tried to remedy it. So, the chaos festered, and it grew. My schedule just became more haphazard. Whatever semblance of discipline I had faded. Time became shorter. I would try to crunch as much work as I could into the small amount of time I had. A lot of time, it meant that my work time would bleed over into Family Time; I'd pass Brady off to Stacey, and hole up someplace with my computer, and squeeze a few more minutes or hours to just try and catch up. And when I did spend time with the girls, I was so stressed about lack of time, that it almost became another chore. Anything I used to do to give myself some semblance of sanity or balance was thrown out the window. I just didn't have time.

It wasn't fun. It was making me stressed and miserable. And I haven't adapted since then to make things any better.

I think a big part of my problem is all these years, I've been trying to convince myself that this is the proper way to do things. That this is how parenthood is supposed to be. In other words, because this is how other stay-at-home parents do their thing, then I should be doing that as well. I'm not sure why, because doing it their way wasn't making me any happier or more relaxed. I was trying to force myself into a mold that didn't fit my line of work, or how I generally do things.

I think along the way, I forgot that I can do things my way. It's not impossible to mold things so that they are conducive to both work, family, and "me" time. If my best artwork is produced at night, work at night. If I work late at night and still need to get up early to get Brady to school, it can be done. It is possible to get my responsibilities taken care of, without sacrificing time away from family.

So, I'm trying to fix that problem I put myself into. It's not easy, mostly because I've mentally conditioned myself to handle work and things a certain way. But, work is getting done (slowly, but surely), and I'm spending quality time with the girls. And that no longer feels like another item to check off my list (something both Stacey and I appreciate).

And I'm making sure I find time to relax once in a while. In a way that makes me feel normal.

So, I recently purchased a PS3.

A Prolonged Separation

by Phil

I apologize for my protracted absence from the blog. As a penance, have a ridiculously long post.

The past month or so has been pretty crazy for my family. We've made the move from Tucson, AZ to Richmond, VA and are starting to settle in. It was an adventure to finally reach this point though.

All of our stuff was packed onto the moving truck and departed Tucson on June 28th. Whenever a moving company is involved in a cross-country move, they give you a window for when your stuff should arrive at the new location. Our estimated time of arrival was between the 6th to the 11th of July.

There's no point in going right to Richmond just to wait around for our stuff for a week. So the original plan was for Angie and our our son to fly to back home to Detroit on June 29th to see our families. I would take the car and do a road trip across the country with my mom for 5 days and meet her in Detroit. We would have a nice little one-year birthday party for our son and then depart together to our new home in Richmond!

Well, the car accident a week and a half before we were supposed to move put a giant wrinkle in both the car and our plans. Because the damage wasn't enough to total out the car, they had to repair it. However, the damages were so bad that it was going to take weeks to fix. Weeks. But we only has a week and a half before our move.

Change of plans!

They told me with complete confidence that the car repairs would be finished by July 8th. Not to worry! July 8th is your date. I believed them.

I bought a round trip plane ticket and flew with Angie and our son to Michigan to visit our families instead of driving. We had the first birthday party. It was fun. I'll write about that soon. Here's a photo.

At that point there was some uncertainty because of the conflicting date ranges. The car would be done in Tucson on July 8th. All of our possessions would be in Richmond some time between the 6th and 11th. Angie's dad valiantly volunteered to drive down and meet our things with Angie and our son. (Thanks again, Dad!) That's a 10 hour car trip with a one-year old. Valiant. Stuff of legend.

On July 5th, Angie got a phone call from the truck driver in possession of all our worldly goods would reach Richmond the next day. I waited around in Michigan for two days, ready to fly out on the 8th and get our car. It was perfectly timed so I could leave the airport, pick up the car and leave town again. My mom agreed to go with me on the road trip because it was going to be fun. Lots of sight seeing and cool times driving Route 66 and the Santa Fe Trail. Good Times!

You know that's not how it went, of course.

I got a phone call on July 7th, the day before I left, that there were part problems. Everything was fixed but when they test drove it, some of the parts were wonky (my term, not there's. If any mechanic ever used the word "wonky" to describe anything on a car, I'd immediately find a new mechanic. I, however, am not a mechanic and can throw wonky around willy-nilly.) They had ordered new parts and were hoping that they'd still have it done by the evening of the 8th.

Of course the parts didn't arrive on the 8th (a Friday!) so I had a weekend to sit around in Tucson and wait. So my mom and I made the best of it. We did all the touristy stuff that I always meant to do but never got around to.

We went to Tombstone. Oh, look, a gunfight.

Oh, more gunfights.

We saw the Titan Missile Museum.

The Pima Air and Space Museum.

At that point, I was pretty antsy. I enjoyed seeing all these attractions. I'm glad that I could finally get around to it and my mom and I had fun. But I was separated from my family by thousands of miles just waiting for a stupid car to get fixed. While I made the best of the situation, I was ready to leave Tucson and get back to my family.

Monday rolls around! The parts were to arrive on Monday and I can finally move on!

Except, they didn't arrive.

I was pretty grumpy Monday night. I was also watching all of the planning I did for our road trip slowly erode to nothing. With the condensed timeline we were looking at, we were going to have to really haul to get to Richmond in a decent timeframe. I was assured, again, that it would happen on Tuesday.

Making the best of it, again, we went to see more sights. We drove up Mount Lemmon and it was stunning.

I was alternately grumpy and in awe all day.

I was also in awe because of the houses with castle aspirations. Did you have any idea Tucson has at least three houses that dreamt so big? Are there more? I don't know!

Finally, Tuesday night, the car was finished. They even had someone stay late so we could pick it up. That night, we drove the 4 hours to Flagstaff, AZ.

From there on, Wednesday through Friday, we drove 12 hours a day. It was a grind. We began fairly early, around 8 am, everyday, determined to squeeze in at least part of the sight seeing that we originally had planned. It put us into our hotels late every night but I was going to make an attempt to enjoy the drive.

We saw a lot on this trip.

A lot of beauty.

Some craziness.

The sign on this defunct hotel says "70 Years of Continuous Hospitality."

A wild fire outside Albuquerque, NM.

Ghost town of Two Guns, AZ, possibly the craziest place I've ever been.

But I also learned a lot about myself. I'm not the same person I was a year ago. I've changed in ways so gradually that I never even realized it.

I'm no longer the ultra-independent person that I was 12 months ago. And I don't see that as a bad thing. I was separated from my family for a combined total of 10 days and it was fun for the first few. Really, there was a certain level of fun during the entire thing but as the trip went on, I was feeling a pull towards my family that I can't explain. By the end of Friday, I couldn't wait to get home- a term I'd already attached to a place I've never really been. But it's where my family was and that meant home.

In the past, before the kid, my wife and I would need to spend time apart for things- conventions, conferences and the like- and, while it bummed me out, it was okay. We're both adults with a certain level of independence. We miss each other but manage nicely.

With the addition of the kid, there's a whole other level of pull for the family. This 10 days was the longest I've ever spent away from him. And there were several layers to the desire to get back. I knew that my wife was having to deal with the unpacking and house preparation alone, on top of caring for the kid. That's a lot to put on anyone and I felt a certain amount of guilt for not being available. But on top of that, I just wanted to see my family.

I realize now that I've willing let go of a certain amount of independence. Getting away for a few days is fine and dandy still. Any prolonged separation, though, and it suddenly begins to feel like I'm not a complete person anymore. There really is something missing in my life if my wife and son aren't in it. Intellectually, I knew that before. This trip, however, made it very real emotionally and physically. I felt their absence. I feel bad for making my mom put with my increasing grumpiness as the trip went on.

By the end I was sore and I ached for a few days afterward- the price paid for sitting in the same position, driving, for hours on end for several days straight. But I'm glad it wasn't any longer. I fear I would have gone feral within a few more days. Speech would have left me and I would have ended up as some horror movie version of a high plains Mogli, hunting rabbits and ripping into them with my teeth without even cooking them.

Having kids can drive you crazy. It turns out, once you have them, being away from them can drive you even crazier.

When will they ever learn??

by Carlos

As a professional teacher, we used to talk about Mastery. If a child could perform a task with such and such accuracy, we said that the child Mastered that skill. So, how can I judge if one of my children has Mastered a skill? I would have to give them an assessment; a test, right? But testing my kids is not something I really want to do over and again. It actually seems a little cruel in some respects.

Should I test my children by wetting their feet and seeing if they'll run across the bathroom tiles after I told them not to? (why do we put tiles in there in the first place?) Should I put a lighter out in front of them to see if they play with it after I told them not to? Seems cruel, eh? But I wonder if it's necessary.

My little girl Anna ran up to me yesterday crying. "Papi! Papi! A gollen gobe i tuck in my ose!" What?! "A gollen gobe i tuck up my ose!" She's pointing to her nose. Lani runs up and tells me that she said, "A golden globe is stuck up my nose." How is it that children who are still learning to speak can understand and translate for each other??

With a flashlight pointing straight into her right nostril I can see an orange sparkly ball. I don't know what a golden globe is, but I'm pretty furious. I'm not mad that she got something stuck up her nose one time. I'm pissed because she got something stuck up her nose TWO times! She did this before!! We actually talk about this often. 'Don't STICK anything up your nose!' How many times do I have to say that?! (I sound like my parents when I was a kid.)

The last time this happened, we tried a slew of techniques to get it out. I even tried blowing through her mouth to pop it out of her nose and even sucking out her nose with my mouth. Do you know what comes out of a child's nose when you suck on it?! Apparently not the seed that she put up there, but everything else imaginable.

So, what possessed her to put this 'golden globe' up there this time?? The world may never know. But there it was. This little orange sparkly ball was up her nostril taunting me. It was saying, 'Nah nah nih boo boo, you can't get me!' like it was the ginger bread man. The last time, we had to go to the hospital. It was really embarrassing and a total time warp.

The little bead, AKA golden globe, came out easily this time. I think all the crying produced some good lubricating snot and she blew it out her nostril. It came out like a rocket bouncing off the floor, shiny with boogers.

So, has she mastered the skill of not putting anything up her nose? No.

The Power of Touch

by Carlos

I find myself drifting off from reality often. I think about movies, my past, or the way that I think other people should act; ALL the wrong things when I should be present with my children. But every once in a while, my children do something so noticeable that I can't help but snap back to reality.

When my first born, Damai, was just learning to walk, she kind of fell on me during one of her attempts. Her arm fell around my neck and there was this jolt through my body. I thought she hugged me for the first time. I know that she hadn't meant to, but the mere fact that she had her arm around me made me feel so loved.

During this summer, the girls absolutely love it when I tell them a story at breakfast. I usually finish my meal first and then begin. When my youngest daughter, Anna, finishes her breakfast, she climbs into my lap. Sometimes she sits and looks up at me and sometimes she lays in my arms. She pays SO much attention when I tell stories. And the moment is gorgeous! I think I tell stories at breakfast just for that moment with Anna.

The other day, Lani, asked me for some paper so she could draw on it. So I reached out for her hand and she held mine. I decided to hold her little hand firmly just to make the point that I loved her. We walked to the other room and when I went to get the paper she held my hand tightly so that I couldn't use it to grab the paper. I needed my hand but she wouldn't let it go. That was quite a moment that I hope never to forget. It was wonderful.

I don't know if they'll ever remember moments like that. I wonder if touch means as much to them as it does to me. But it really helps me to see that they love me and to bring me into my present moment, instead of daydreaming off like I do. I hope when they get to that "my dad is so UNcool" stage of their growth that they'll still take the time to give me a hug every now and again. Their hugs are precious.

Sharing the bed with the kids

Came up on a good article the other day about a new study concerning the family bed, or co-sleeping or sleep sharing or whatever you’d like to call it. Here’s the link if you want to check it out:

http://yourlife.usatoday.com/parenting-family/story/2011/07/Study-Sharing-bed-with-toddler-wont-harm-development/49511408/1

I remember this being one of those issues like religion or politics. You just don’t talk about it because someone might get offended. People on either side are pretty strong in what they believe. And if you tell them you disagree and why, it’s likely to be received about as well as a kick in the nuts. Even those without nuts will understand this I’m sure.

On the one side of the issue are the parents that believe in letting a child cry it out (CIO) when you put them down to sleep. It’s called Ferberizing. It’s meant to teach the child to self sooth, learn to get to sleep on their own. Its an actual technique that involves a parent leaving the child in the room alone and coming in to comfort them in lengthening intervals, briefly, but essentially letting the child cry until they fall asleep or just stop crying. Most parents that I’ve seen though, ten to skip the intervals and just let them cry themselves to sleep. Ferber-lite.

On the other side are the parents that let the children sleep with them. There’s no technique to this one. It’s just, go to sleep and don’t accidentally smother the child.

The shared bed, while still vastly in the minority, has been growing in practice over the last decade or so. Some think that it’s because families (mostly moms but dads too) are so much busier these days, sleeping side by side with their children fills that need to bond or connect after being apart all day.

More traditional thinkers, Ferberizers, and my mom, think that sleeping in the same bed with your child is harmful to their development. They’ll become too dependent, never be able to do anything on their own, they’ll always be afraid to be alone, maybe they’ll give in to the powers of the dark side.

I love science, I love studies, and the article above refers to the results of the latest study that supports neither side. It doesn’t say one is better than the other. In fact it shows no harm either way.

Studies like this have been done before and even this Ferber guy revised one of his books in 2006 to make it clear that sharing a bed with their parents doesn’t make a child insecure, has no harmful effects on learning development, or individuality or learning to separate from their parents.

So no one wins. Whatever works works.

Alcohol; my seldom visited friend

by Carlos

God bless my grandfather; he never fails to offer me a drink, even if the alcohol isn't his. He's visiting from the mainland and I remember that when we lived closer to him, that I had become a little bitter at how insistent he was that I take a drink with him. But lately, I'm beginning to see that it wasn't his insistence at all that bothered me. It's that I could not indulge more.

We all went to the beach this past week and had a blast. We stayed for two nights which was just perfect. Both nights we BBQed and had more than enough food, and drink. Oh, how I wanted to drink!

I felt free enough to drink. There was certainly good booze. I didn't have to drive home. My wife was encouraging me to drink freely. And I did have a little bit of some really good wine. But all the while I felt this little trigger; a switch that hadn't been turned.

I've come to realize that the switch is the presence of my kids. If they are there, I cannot drink much. If they aren't, I freely drink. It's as if their presence means that I am still 'On Duty;' like the beach life guard signs.

I'm not so sure it's my instincts always prowling for danger. I'm not so good a parent to say that. I'm sure that I'm not afraid to drink in front of them, I haven't done anything too embarrassing under the influence in a long time. I think drinking with my kids around feels a little like I'm mixing work with pleasure. I think that I'll get a little upset if I'm relaxing and feeling good after a few great beers and then I have to put on the parent face and discipline my children if they do something inappropriate. I guess I'm afraid of having a buzz kill.

I don't think it's bad thing. Sure, I want to drink more often and I want to drink more when I get the chance, but absence makes the heart grow fonder, right? I mean, I REALLY appreciate drinking now, when it's more than just a glass of wine because the kids aren't around. I love tequila. I love jagermeister. I love good beer (am I sounding a little crazed?). And now that I can't have them so readily, I honestly can say that I appreciate them more.

A couple of weeks ago, I blogged about a pool party. I'm still so happy about that night I got to drink SO much. And honestly, I didn't drink a whole lot, it's just I didn't have to be a parent and so I was able to drink freely.

Maybe, I'll be able to drink more when the kids are older. And maybe at that time I will be able to be stoked on just a few drinks versus the way I drank as a college student. No matter what, I look forward to the next time!

What I Learned From My Summer Vacation

One of the truly crappy things about coming back from vacation (aside from the fact that I had to come back from vacation) is that period where I need to get back up to speed with work and other commitments. Such as it is that the post I intended to work on and finish up last week is instead getting posted today. Whoops.

So anyway, vacation is done. It was a good time, all told. We had a good time with both of our respective familes, Brady got to hang out with her various cousins, and (most importantly) we had a chance to relax and reset.

Actually, that's not quite true. I think the most important thing to come out of the trip was an increased sense of perspective on how we're doing as parents. See, when you're 2,500 miles away from family, you’re essentially raising a child in a vacuum. Sure, there are neighbors and other parents in town that you could always use for comparison, but it's not quite the same. This is especially true when you think that your child is insane compared to all of the other kids in town.

I use the term lovingly, because I love the type of manic energy that Brady posesses (90% of the time, at least). But compared to other kids that we interact with in town, she always seemed really out there. We would wonder if we were doing something wrong in how we were raising her. I mean, other children seemed to be well behaved. What were we doing wrong?

Turns out we were doing nothing wrong. She's just a Hills. Or, despite being born and raised in Utah, she's really a New Yorker at heart.

Back on the East Coast, Brady seemed to fit right in. She was no more or less crazy than any other kid we ran into on the trip. More telling was seeing some of my other nieces and nephews, and noticing that they are just as extroverted as she is. Sometimes even more so.

Have we been overreacting or over-worrying about how Brady is, and how we raise her? Well, yes and no. I guess what I learned was seeing how Brady is in proper context. Here in Utah, there does seem to be this feeling that everything has to be “perfect,” whatever that is. Families around here seem to have no problems with their kids. Or at least they don't let others see it if there are problems. So, when we se Brady act like, well, Brady, it seems to stick out pretty far in comparison to our surroundings. But when in New York, she seemed no different than other kids her age.

So, should we be concerned? I don't believe so. In the grand scheme of things (as was reinforced by both sets of grandparents), Brady is behaving like a seven year old. She's says please and thank you. She's excitable, but not destructive. She wants to do everything and anything, which is no different than what Stacey and I were like when we we her age.

In other words, she's fine.

And really, would we want to suppress that in her, so that she’ll conform to how people are around here? Do we as parents want to conform?

Not really, no.

We want our daughter to have this active imagination (of which she has in abundance). We want her to be excited about things. Hell, deep down we want her to get in trouble from time to time. We don’t want her to feel that she has to be this perfect child.

Because in the proper context, she already is.

Outed

So, I’ve been outed. I don’t like puppies. Accordingly… I have no soul. I’m actually fine with having no soul. I’ll admit, it’d be better if that were still a secret. My family might have their suspicions, but no one would ever really know. Now we got this damn puppy, and I can hide it no longer. My family all fell in love with the little white and brown headache when they laid their eyes on it. I didn’t. That’s when they knew.

All I see is work, stains, smells, chewed up shoes and remote controls and rugs and furniture. We’ve had it for a month now and their love for it oozes all over the house, all over the rugs. I can barely tolerate the damn thing.

I’ve never been a pet person. It isn’t because of any particular deal with the devil. I just haven’t ever been a pet person. But it isn’t like I’ve tried to push that on my family (all of them… pet people). Before this little hair ball came along I, mostly quietly, tolerated 2 dogs, 3 cats, about 10 hamsters, all sorts of lizards, 3 birds and thousands of fish. My daughter even keeps some pet crickets on occasion. As these pets come along, others go away. They make their way into my garage freezer (the morgue) and then when we have enough for a mass funeral, the front yard (cemetery). Do you know how many places I can't plant bushes or bulbs now? There are corpses everywhere.

Now my son is ten and I finally agree that he’s old enough for his own puppy. He's doing a great job raising and training and mostly cleaning up after it. But because I see through its cute, excited, playful act, I’m the bad guy.

My wife says its because I’m a robot. I have gears and wires where other people have hearts. My kids just think that I’m mean and hate every that is good in the world. “Please don’t kill the intruder in the big red suit at Christmas daddy, he a friend.” I won’t kill him, but I will eat his cookies.