Shhh, don't tell. It's a secret!

by Carlos

So, this morning I get a phone call from my annoying fraud detector alert than an internet transaction was made over the weekend. Nothing new... except that my wife was on call the whole weekend. "Wait a minute!" I got a little excited. "Maybe a thief just used my credit card!" It's kind of weird, but what's the use of having a fraud detector if no one actually commits fraud on my credit.

A quick phone call to my wife will give me the evidence I need to call the credit card company. "Did you purchase something over the internet while you were working?" The answer is obviously 'no'. She's way too busy! "Oh, yes... I did."

I was silent.

She continued, "Guess what I got you for Father's Day!" Did you know that I like surprises? Anyway, this quickly reminded me of her youngest daughter, Anna.

About a week ago, my three girls watched an episode of Dora where Dora and Boots had to solve a riddle in order to continue their adventure. The riddler asked "Who can jump higher than the tallest mountain?" After some thought provoking problem solving, Dora and Boots came up with the answer, "Everyone can jump higher than the tallest mountain, because (and the shouted this part) MOUNTAINS CAN'T JUMP!"

So, I was playing with them as they got out of the bathtub later on. I told them they could be the Riddle Princess if they could solve my riddle. I asked Damai the same riddle question from the cartoon and she was so excited that she knew the answer. Then Lani became the second Riddle Princess after I went through it with her.

Now Anna was watching the whole thing from the bathtub. So when the little two-year old jumped out of the bath, she was already giggling with delight. She said, "Papi, you hab to ak me the widdle then ai become the Widdle Princess!" (I hope you understood the emerging English.) To build the suspense I said, "I don't know... I have a reeeally hard riddle for you." She was so impatiently excited. She was giggling and jumping up and down. I really thought she was going to burst. And then she basically did burst. Before I could even ask the question, she yelled "because MOUNTAINS CAN'T JUMP!"

"You're the winner!!" And I crowned her with her towel.

So my wife asking me to guess what I got for Father's Day should have been no surprise. "Common!" she said. "Oh, forget it! I'll just tell you."

Anyone else want to guess what I got for Father's Day because I think the secret's out.

Mini-Me

A long while back, I was once asked what it was like to now have a little Mini-Me running around. Apparently, my friend thought that Brady and I had an uncanny resemblance. More than likely it was because at the time, we both had little to no hair.

(Sadly, she's now surpassed me in that aspect.)

In any case, I do realize now that I do have a Mini-Me of sorts running around. It's just not in the way that my friend had meant.

Now, I could just that she has many of the same interests that I had/have, like comics, science fiction, and pro wrestling (she's a BIG Undertaker fan). But, that would be the easy observation to make. Rather, I've really noticed as she's become older, there have been certain mental/behavioral/emotional cues that have caused me to...well...kinda get creeped out at how eerie the similarities truly are.

It's hard to describe in words what I'm talking about. I think the closest analogy would be when sports analysts talk about top players in their profession. A term that always comes up is the intangibles; the certain things that can't be explained, but "you know it when you see it."

There have been many a time when I've seen her react to a situation, or behave in certain circumstances where I just have to stop and ask myself, "was I really like that? Wow."

Some examples include:

• While she is much more of an extrovert than either Stacey or I are, she has absolutely no problem being by herself in her room just to be by herself.
• She has got one wild imagination.
• She has a tendency to be a hard read, emotionally. What I mean is she likes to keep her emotional cards close to her chest. She doesn't like to let you know that she's angry, even when it's clear that she is. I was told when I did that, I was bottling my emotions up.
• She has a tendency, when she's not sure how to act or what to say to just copy what she saw on television, and hope that would be sufficient. That was something I was definitely guilty of doing when I grew up.

...and so on.

Where I feel she is most like me is her desire to make everyone happy. That can be both a good thing and a bad thing. The good thing is that she'll do everything in her power to make you laugh. The bad thing is she doesn't like to be the cause of unhappiness, so she'll a) take it really hard/personal, and b) be extremely accommodating to others, almost to the point where people could walk over her, just so that they could be happy. This is where I really feel I should apologize to her for my genes, because I know that I was like that growing up, and it was really tough.

Okay, yeah I can still be like that, but I'm a lot better than I used to be.

It's weird how, in a way, I'm going to be reliving my childhood through her. There are just so many similarities (gender aside) that I can't see how she doesn't go through the same trials and tribulations that I did.

That said, at least she has the good fortune of having her mom's genes as well. Brady is certainly as self-assured as Stacey said she was growing up, and Stacey certainly had no problem standing up to people when need be. Hopefully in that regard, Brady will be able to deal with her peers better than I did.

Or, maybe she'll make the best of what was given to her and she forges a path completely different than either of is. I mean, that's really what we all as parents want from our kids, right? Time will tell, I guess.

I have to say, though: it is weird seeing myself in a mirror every now and then. Even if that mirror is in the shape of a seven year old girl.

Allow Myself to introduce... er, Myself

by Carlos

Something Matt said a while back about putting his girls in the same bed got me to wander about in my memory: There was a time when I was able to say that I had 3 girls under the age of 3. And as soon as a younger child moved out of the parent's room, the girls slept together. For the past year, I've even had all three of them sleeping in the same bed (its actually 2 single beds smashed together with pillows in between). That single thought started a conversation;

"How did we ever get to that decision?" says Me to Myself. Then IMyself says, "Well, we hated their toys in the living room, so we put them in one bedroom and gave them a playroom. "Oh ya..." I answered. "Remember when we used to put them in their playroom and lock them in with the baby gate? That was great!... Why did we ever stop that??" Myself replied , "they started pushing each other over the gate, throwing things out of the room, and finally Damai started reaching over and unlocking it. We even had to rethink how to keep them out of the kitchen. THAT was scarry."

"Oh yeah," as I suddenly remembered, "they were playing with the trash can and littering the floor with their magnetic alphabet letters. I'd always trip on them. Then they all ended up under the fridge where I'd kick them out of frustration. Who ever thought of a toy that needed to be played with in the kitchen?" "Yeah, but we got through all that," Myself reassures Me. "The kids got old enough to teach and to discipline."

"Yeah," I remark back, "and you got frustrated enough to start teaching and disciplining them!" "Hahaha" We both chuckle.

And that conversation was good! I began to realize that things have really worked out. They're not perfect and Myself and I made a lot of mistakes, but the kids are doing well and no one had to die... yet.

This is reasuring because I have a lot of questions about this next phase of our lives; why are we sending the kids to private school? Why am I going to start working just to send the kids to private school? Anyway, what would I do if I stayed home with no kids? Could I home school? NO Could the kids be home schooled? And if they were, how would I engage the littlest one while the elders were being taught? How would I know if I were doing a good job? Anyway, if I go to work now as a substitute, will I make enough? What happens if I don't? What's our goal anyway??

And I see that our next phase is no more confusing than the last 10 years of my life. God, help me because I have no idea what I'm getting Myself into... again.

"Are We There Yet?"

By Doug

"Are weeee there yet?"

Do you know what is the worst part about that question? I mean, aside from the given fact that it can drive you up the wall further and faster than most any other question out there? It's that sometimes the child saying it knows that it's annoying...and does it anyway.

Purely to tweak you.

That's how Brady can be. Oh sometimes, it's legit. She's really bored, or cranky, and really tired of the drive.

Other times?

I don't even need to see her to know she's got a gleam in her eye, and she just wants to mess with the parental units.

Sometimes it's only an hour into the drive. Sometimes it's a half hour in.

Sometimes it's shortly after we get out of the driveway.

"Are we there yet?"

Of course, we play along initially. We do the "we'll get there when we GET there" line from The Incredibles one or two (or five or six times). Then we'll get sarcastic and say, "yep, we're here. This spot in the road right here is our final destination."

Oddly enough, the novelty fairly quickly wears off. Not that it's going to stop her from resurrecting the dead horse just to flog it some more.

There must be something that's prebuilt into a child's mind at birth that says, "you know what's funnier than saying a joke once? Repeating it FIFTY times! In a row!"

"Are we there yet? How about now? Are we there yet?"

The hard part is to not get truly angry at her, though Lord knows I'd love to. Because, unlike those times where she's truly being bbecause she's really just trying to be funny, nothing more. She wants to make us laugh the one way she (thinks she) knows how.

So, we push on. And time somehow seems to stretch longer. Has it really only been five minutes? Really?

The next step in our attempt to salvage some sanity, is to turn the tables and ask her if we're there yet over and over. One would think that if you pull the reverse psychology trick, then they would easily see the error of their ways. You know, the old "smoke a box of cigarettes to prevent further smoking" trick.

I wonder if that ever worked on people?

Anyway, we'd start asking her "are we there yet? How about now?" over and over and over, thinking eventually she's going to get tired of it as much as we're tired of hearing it.

As it turns out, that's even funnier!

So, we quickly abandon that, turn the radio up a bit louder, and resign ourselves to the fact that this will never ever stop. Ever.

Or at least until we get to our destination. Two hours later.

Hu-friggin-zah! Now we can relax and enjoy our trip to (insert fun place to be here). Until it's time to go home, and the cycle begins anew.

Joy.

PS: You want real fun? Drive eight hours to Vegas. And back.

We Don't Need Another Hero!

There is a place where only the strong survive.

This place has no rules, but has one rule: WIN.

There are no alliances.

There are no teams.

You must fight to thrive here.

The hunted becomes the hunter.

And the hunter...becomes the hunted.

This place...?


Playland McDonalds.


Last week, after Carrie's baby doc visit, we went to the playland McDonald's. My girls have never been to it before. And since Carrie has been working from home this week, we thought it would be a good time for all of us.

We ordered our lunch, and set off to find a table. At this particular PM (playland McDonalds), the play area had a separate dining area, complete with separate door. Inside the door was a smaller dining area that had a few groups of parents sitting next to each other. Separating the dining area from the play area, was a 10 foot wall.


This should have been my first clue as to the nature of PM. The kids were required to take their shoes off before entering the play area. After all the McNuggets® were consumed, L & E were ready to play. They ran over to the small steps to enter into the Plastic Jungle.

L, being 4, had an easier time than E, 2, hopping in. They both were able to climb onto the first level and slide down the slide. After the first couple of times, E had the hang of it and was able to do it by herself.

But after the other kids finished their "Happy" Meals, Playland McDonald's soon became...Thunderdome.


Soon kids were running around. And SCREAMING. Now if you're in a giant box with glass ceilings and walls, you've entered into an echo chamber. And all of these kids have high pitched squeals. TORTURE.

So all the kids are screaming, and now they've started running. Lots of pushing, climbing past each other, madness! Some kids were on the higher levels of the Plastic Jungle, taunting all of those below them, challenging them to defy their power! Other kids were zooming past each other in the tiny tunnels, casting smaller kids to the wayside.


My kids were not immune to the power of PM. E became very anxious, and refused to enter the first level again, crying, "I need to wait my turn! I need to wait my turn!" Her cries became tears soon after.

L became upset that I was asking her to try to go up to the second level. There were too many kids running through! She yelled, "I can't! I can't!" At one point, I thought I was going to have to get in and get them both out of one of the tunnels.


As I looked around, the other parents were obviously used to what was going on. They were sitting around, kibitzing about their older kid's teachers, track meets, etc. Couldn't they see the mayhem that was ensuing? Couldn't they stop the havoc that their offsprings were wreaking?!

Yeah, they probably could. But it was just kids being kids. And I was overreacting.

My girls were ready to leave after about a half hour in the Thunderdome. They've already talked about going back. But this time, we'll be ready.

We've already been through the first two levels of Elmo's Hand to Hand Combat.

Flying!

By Phil

Flying with a baby is never a relaxing experience. Having now done three cross-country
trips with the little guy, he is (and by extension we are) experienced enough that
it's not painful.

If you ever get stuck behind us in security, don't fret. We have it down to a science and
we fly through without a problem. The only thing that slows us down is my refusal to go
through the full body scanner. Angie holds our son through security so she automatically
gets to go through the metal detector. However, as a form of protest, I always opt-out of
the full body scanner and get the pat down. I'm not going to turn this into a political rant,
this blog isn't the platform for it. I will just point out that the first time I opted out, the TSA
agent angrily asked me (paraphrasing), "Do you tell the cop who pulls you over what
you were doing wrong before he asks?" I didn't much appreciate the implication that I
was somehow guilty of something simply because I didn't want to submit to a virtual
strip search. I'm getting sidetracked. Sorry about that.

The point is, when going through security we are like lightning, except for my pat down,
which only holds up my family, not the people behind us. It's the one aspect of flying that
we haven't had a problem with since the beginning.

The actual flying, though, took some work. Our first flight, back at Christmas when our
son was only 5 months old, was absolutely horrible. We were that family with that baby.
It was a cartoonish depiction of the crying baby that you see in sitcoms.

Tucson has a small airport by most standards, which means that nearly everywhere we
want to go is going to involve a connection through a larger hub city. That first leg was
two hours of non-stop screaming. We tried absolutely everything we could think of to
stop the crying. We tried feeding him, singing to him (something that I've written about
before that always works), gave him toys that he loved, gave him new toys we brought
along for just such an occasion, everything. It didn't matter.

We worked our butts off for two hours straight with no success. We were fried. I'm sure
everyone else on the plane was too. I felt like I had run a marathon... under water...
without a respirator. (Hyperbolic enough for you?)

So when we landed late and rushed to our connection, a flight they were holding for us
and a few others, we were exhausted and dismayed to see that there weren't two seats
together anywhere on the plane. There were plenty of middle seats open but it looked
bleak when it came to sitting together, something that would have been avoided if our
original plane would have arrived on time.

We stood in the aisle looking wild-eyed and feral, asking if anyone would be willing to
take a middle seat so we could sit together. My wife explained that if we sat together
we'd have a better chance of keeping our baby calm.

Crickets.

No one would even look up or make eye contact. They were all determined to sit there
and ignore us. My wife pleaded a bit more. A woman in a full row yelled, "C'mon.
Someone help them out. It's Christmas."

Nothing.

We were at our breaking point by then, having just fruitlessly worked to keep our son
from crying and then getting the stonewall from the other passengers. I angrily declared
(not my proudest moment), "When he cries, it's now everybody's fault!"

Angie pointed to a seat next to where she was standing and said, "Miss, do you mind if I
sit in that seat next to you?" She then turned to me and said, "I'll take the baby first."
I handed him over and suddenly the woman's cell phone wasn't as interesting as it had
been for the entire five minutes before that. She "graciously" gave up her seat with the
thinnest veil of sincerity I've ever seen. "Oh, I'll move so you can sit together."

The other passengers were playing a game of chicken, seeing who could hold out the
longest or which seat we'd pick before making a move.

We got settled into our seats when another couple from our first flight came aboard and
passed us by. As they made their way towards the back, they gave us a look of horror,
anticipating what was about to come.

Luckily, our son spent all of his energy screaming his lungs out on the first flight. As
soon as the door closed on the second leg, he fell asleep and stayed that way for
almost the entire trip. As we were getting off the plane, we received several
compliments from other passengers.

"That's because you weren't on our other flight," I wanted to reply.

It was a complete and completely welcome turn around between the two legs. And it's
been relatively calm every flight since. It hasn't been easy; he gets bored, moves
around, wants to touch everything (including anyone sitting next to him). Digging food
and toys out of our bags isn't a cakewalk in those tiny spaces and we're always tired
coming off of the plane. But compared to that first flight, he's been an angel ever since.

We've gotten at least one compliment on every flight since that first one. As a parent,
that makes me feel like we may be doing something right. And as any parent knows,
we'll take those moments any time we can because learning how to be a parent so often
feels like doggie paddling in jello. It's a struggle and even when you're pretty sure
progress is happening, you can feel awkward and self-conscience. I think I overworked
that metaphor. You get my sentiment, though, hopefully.

Next week I'll revisit air travel one more time so I can talk about strangers and how they
think I'm great. If only they would tell my wife... (That's a joke! I'm joking!)

Also: Two posts in one week? What's the meaning of this? Mondays have become more
convenient for Doug, so the two of us have switched days. I'm now the Friday guy.
Change is scary but we can get through it together if we have open communication.

Ready or not, here I go!

by Carlos

So the count down is nearing the end; less than two weeks left in pre-school for 2 of my girls. Damai is sad because she says she'll miss her teacher. Lani is excited because she wants to go to the beach more often. And Ana, my 2 yr old, doesn't really understand.

But I'm starting to understand.

A few more days and my sole time with Ana will end. I can't say we conquered the island together or partied every day. I had a lot of other stuff I had to do. A homemaker's to-do list can get pretty long. But there were a lot of really good times we had, just her and I.

Maybe she didn't get it, but we sat on the North Shore together watching the BIGGEST surf while everyone was at work. The beach wasn't crowded and there were no annoying surf contests going on. It was a perfect beach day.

I enjoyed watching bits of movies together while we ate lunch. Shopping for food was something we worked on together. She was getting really good at helping me put the food on the conveyor belt. I'll miss tickling her in the morning. She loved playing hide-and-seek with me (even though she's terrible at that game; she always hid right in front of me!). She was also SO adorable waking up from her nap; she'd come out of her room dizzy with her eyes at half mast. She's always bump into something. She's adorable.

People always tell me that I need to enjoy this time when my kids are little. "They grow up so fast," is the common line. But however common it is, it seems to always be said with a tear in the eye. Well, now I'm starting to get it, a little.

It'll be hectic and fun to have all my girls together again. We'll do it up for the next 10 weeks until school starts up again. I hope to have an absolute blast with them!

And then, it's off to work for me. I don't know how I'll get the girls out early enough so that I can reach a substitute teaching job in time, but God will help.

No more after noon workouts. No more play dates. Gee, I'll probably have to discontinue my zoo pass! I don't know how I'll handle doing my homemaking duties after a day with students. My wife will be working a little less next year than this year, so that'll help. I don't even know how I'll blog!!

Anyway, life is about to make some really drastic changes. I feel like I'm about to go down a really fast water slide with a plunge at the end... here we go!

Sigh of Relief... Dashed to Bits!

by Phil

Let me just start out with a big ol' Wooooooooooooooooooooooooooo! Yeah!

The screaming has almost completely subsided. At this point, it only rears its ugly head when my son is frustrated or angry. Since he's generally a laid back baby, that isn't much.

The past two days have been glorious. I don't want to curse myself here (I probably have already just for mentioning the subject) but this phase may be over. I feel like one of Cinderella's singing, animated animals filled with the joy of a newly arrived spring, having survived the harsh winter. I could have filled Lake Michigan with the amount of hope I was feeling for the future.

Not so anymore.

This child specializes in finding new ways to drive me up a wall in unanticipated ways. Seriously, sign him up as a CIA torturer. He's relentless.

What new hades has descended upon our household? He's grown a third tooth...

That sounds innocuous enough, right? You may even be thinking that I'm talking about the process of teething. While teething includes sleepless nights and quite a bit of crying, I'm okay with it. Sure, we lose sleep but he's in pain and agitated. There's no way I'm going to get upset about that.

This morning, he discovered that he can grind his two bottom teeth against the fresh top tooth and make the most lovely noise. It send the worst kind of shiver down my back, like little tiny nails on the world's smallest chalkboard.

On the exact opposite end of the spectrum from the screaming, it's a quiet noise that somehow cuts through every other sound in the room. I've put on music in the hopes of covering it up to no avail. I've tried sitting across the room from him as he plays, hoping that the sound wouldn't carry more than a few feet. But since I'm the coolest guy ever, my son feels the need to either play right at my feet or sit in my lap. Normally, I'd love this level of attention from the little guy. Today I just can't seem to get far enough away from him. He doesn't seem all that interested in his pacifier either, the grinding is the only thing he's into. So my attempt to put a dampening spacer between his gums didn't even work.

Have you ever seen the movie Total Recall with former governator? It takes place on Mars, and there's a scene where Arnold's ejected from the habitable dome onto the cold surface of the planet. As his head nears the point of exploding because of the lack of atmosphere, he looks like this:



I'm pretty sure that's how I'm going to look by the end of the day. If my head actually does explode, please take up a collection and hire a cleaning service so my wife doesn't have to deal with the mess.



Bonus video! Rauhr urawr ughar.

A Nice Thing About Being A Work-At-Home Dad...

...is that when a 4 foot by 3 foot section of shingles blow off your roof, you can patch it right then and there before the rainstorm rolls in.

Not that it's great it happened, but, y'know... beats having to do it at 9pm at night.

Road Trip

First I'd like to say that I had this one ready to go yesterday, but somebody thought it was a bad idea.

Nice move, Google. Maintenance.

Yeah.

Sure.

After last week's gem, I thought I should chronicle my adventure this past weekend. We headed to the other side of our state for Carrie's friend's daughter's baptism. Carrie is the godmother, so her presence was essential. We all hopped into our new ride, and headed west.



Yeah, that's right. We got the minivan. It's a sweet ride. I don't feel nostalgic for the hybrid, until I fill up the gas tank. Then, I feel sick.

This will be the second or third time we've traveled across the state. The drive is usually about 2 hours, and the girls have always handled it well. At 4 & 2, they were good just listening to music and singing the entire ride there. We don't have the factory installed DVD system in the car, that most minivans come with. Not for any morale choice, but mainly for cost. It didn't seem worth it to have the "Entertainment Package" added for $1300! I'll hop on Amazon and get those back-of-the-headrest ones for about a tenth of the price.

Anyways, the drive was smooth, there & back. We were never really concerned about the drive. It was the hotel stay that concerned us.

We're in the process of moving the girls into one room, making space for the new baby. (3 weeks!) But this hotel stay would be the first for both of them sleeping together. Not only in the same room, but in the same bed!

When we rolled into town, we stopped at our hotel to check in first, before heading to Carrie's friend's house. We knew we had a two room suite, with a double bed & a sofa bed. The sofa bed was closer to the door, so that's where Carrie & I slept. The girls would take the double. After figuring out what we would put next to the bed so E doesn't fall out, we left to hang for a bit.

We got back a little late, but thought that would work in our favor. They're both tired, so they'll both go to sleep easily, right?

RIGHT?!?!?!


Not so. E had a tough time adjusting to a bed without prison bars. (That bodes well.) And since L's sleeping right next to her, she couldn't help but be concerned with every Ella movement.

From the other room:

"Dad! Mom! E's not sleeping!"

"Mom! Dad! E won't stop moving!"

"Dad! Mom! E isn't having sweet dreams!"

I think they finally fell asleep around midnight! What did it take? Mommy magic, of course. I had to run next door to the 24 hour supermarket, and when I came back, they were sleeping like two angels. At least for a few hours. I think E woke us up 2 or 3 times more. It was all a blur.

E slept a little later than the rest of us on Sunday morning. (I was very jealous.) But we got checked out of the hotel relatively early, and made it to the baptism right on time. And of course, everybody slept on the way home. Including myself. Cruise control really is like auto-pilot!

The whole trip was a good preview for our vacation later this year. We'll have another person waking us all up, instead of E. My first response to her waking up from the baby's cries:

"You just got E-ed! BAM!"

Dad of the year, right here, folks.



Still looking for a Wonder Woman figure for E. I'm watching some stuff on eBay, but nothing concrete yet. Any leads? Send them my way.

"THE LIST"

There are so many great movies that I can’t wait to watch with my kids. I’ve compiled a list of my top ten. Actually I don’t think it’s just MY top ten, I think it’s THE top ten.

Rule: You are welcome to challenge anything on my list (good luck with that, my list is awesome), but don’t challenge one without a replacement.

I’m a huge horror fan but I’m not going to include any of that on my list. I don’t want my kids watching horror. I can’t enjoy a movie that results in weeks or months of, “I’m too scared to sleep,” and a refusal to go upstairs alone… even during the day.

Rule: A series of movies (like the Rocky series) Counts as 1.

There’s a great site called commonsensemedia.org. It’s one of those sites that every parent should know about. It gives you an age recommendation for any movie, book, game, CD etc… that you type in, then it defends why it gave that recommendation; language, violence, use of drugs or alchohol, hard core porn, whatever. I’ll put their age recommendation next to each awesome item on my list.

Two last rules (Dads love rules): No TV shows and No R rated movies, I know, that makes it hard. I wanted so badly to have The Edge with Anthony Hopkins and Unforgiven with Clint Eastwood, but rules are rules.

I thought about listing them in order but it was stressing me out, so here they are in random order.


1. Rocky (all of them). Rated Iffy for 10 and 11.

2. Harry Potter (all of them). After the first 2 (rated 7yrs and 8yrs) they’re all rated 12+.

3. Dead Poets Society, Rated 13+

4. Lord of the rings (all of them), Rated 12+

5. The Goonies, Rated 10+

6. Stand By Me, Rated iffy for 13 – 15 yrs. I said no horror but had to work Stephen King into the mix.

7. Willow, says it’s rated 8+ but we tried it and my daughter was scared to death of the queen. Not 8 yrs in my house.

8. October Sky, Rated 10+

9. Jurassic Park (first one), Rated 12+

10 Indiana Jones (all of them except for the newest one) Rated 11+

"Where is your mother?!"

by Carlos

It was really quite wonderful to sit with so much of my family on Mother's Day. All the kids were playing with their cousins. The food was fantastic! And the conversation was joyful. Happy Mother's Day!

When I asked if my wife was having a good day, she asked me back because, she said, that day today was to be shared with me. "Oh no!" I said. "I'm not a mother! Today is YOUR day."

Yes, Mother's Day is for females. She carried our children in her womb. She breast fed them. She has cleaned many a diaper. It's true, that I have clean many more, but I'm not a mother. I mean, who do the kids go to when they need help?

I pondered this on Mother's Day as I was eating my delicious fudge brownie for desert, when just then, Lani came to me in a half frantic. "Papi, I need your help!" She grabbed my arm and led me into my in-laws' bathroom.

"What's the matter, Lani?"

"I need you to help me go shi shi (pee) ."

"Lani, you're 3 yrs old. You wipe yourself."

"No, Papi. Don't leave me." How desperate a little 3 yr old can sound.

"Do you need to go caca (poop)?"

"No, Papi. Just shi shi (pee)."

When we were all done, I saw my wife having a great time. She was hamming it up with all her family. She was having a good time. "Good", I thought. "She's having a good time." I had a warm feeling in my heart.

That lasted about 5 minutes. Lani came back tugging on my arm. "Papi, I need your help!"
She dragged me back into the bathroom. "I have to go caca (poop)."

"But I asked you if you needed to go caca. Why didn't you go before?"

"Papi, stay here. Make sure nobody comes in." Now, I don't know if there's such a thing as a 'smell-o-meter', but my daughter's poo would be off the charts! I backed up to the door and thought about just leaving. But she was quicker than I. "Papi, stay!" So, I lit a match that my in-laws so mercifully placed in the bathroom for me. "Papi, why did you do that?"

"Umm, this match helps to get rid of the caca smell."

"Caca smells, huh, Papi." It was a statement. And damn, what a statement it was! How do such smells come from such a sweet little girl???!!! "But what about shi shi, Papi? Does shi shi smell?"

"Not really, Lani. Just caca."

"But Papi, what about shi shi and caca mixed together? Would that smell?"

My match is burning out quick! When is this going to end? "Lani, do you have more caca?" Meaning, "hurry up! You're burning out my olfactory!" So, she does her signature move; her head tilts. Her eyes begin to bulge. She's focusing on something beyond me. It's really something twisted, like from some aliens movie.

Then I can hear it. It's the sound of poo passing. I'm not even going to describe it.

"Papi, do you hear that?"

"Yes." I'm so afraid.

"That's caca."

As we're leaving the bathroom, all I can think is, "Where is your mother?!!"

The Screaming...Make It Stop!

Some of you may have noticed that I didn’t post at all last week. It’s because I couldn’t muster the energy to do much of anything beyond exist for several days for reasons that I never would have guessed possible.

Often in my writings here on the blog, I attempt to concentrate on the more positive side of parenting. I try to bring the levity. This week, though, I’m concentrating on an obstacle I didn’t even know existed.

The screaming.

Oh, god, the screaming.

Why didn’t anyone tell me this existed? I know that not every kid goes through this phase, but someone could have mentioned that it might happen. You know, as a possibility. Apparently all of the other parents were in a conspiracy to hide this bit of information, afraid that it would scare non-parents away from having their own little saplings.

Consider this your warning.

The screaming. It will hunt you down.

On and off over the past month, we’ve been dealing with an insane, ear-splitting shriek from my son. He’s discovered it, he loves it and no one is going to take it away from him. He uses it for a universal communication, whether that message be happy, sad, angry, tired, hungry or excited.

We did notice a pattern to some of the screaming that we tried to adjust. Because we’re moving soon, we have a few boxes around. There was one in particular that he like to use as his soapbox, gleefully standing; allowing his diaphragm to really open so he could let the world know his grievances. As soon as we saw him crawling towards that box, we knew what would come next. We quickly dubbed it “the screaming box.”

So we decided to do an experiment. Was it the box itself that he liked or was it the placement of the box? It was sitting right next to our kitchen island and near a hallway that would echo his voice. So we moved the box to the other side of the room and moved our small ottoman into the position where the box was. Here he is enjoying the screaming box in its original position and starring in a remake of the Jacob’s Ladder movie poster.

Something unanticipated happened. He found the new placement of the original screaming box and gleefully continued its use. However, he also used the ottoman for a good number stand/scream sessions too. So we effectively doubled the number of places that he would shriek. Successful experiment. Failed solution.

At least we got goofy-looking pictures of him out of it. We can torment him with these later in life. Sweet sweet revenge.

We just took both the box and the ottoman away and it did help reduce the screaming a bit. There’s just something about standing while screaming that makes it extra enjoyable for him.

We’ve been living in a house filled with horror movie scream queens- except it’s my ear drums and concentration that are being murdered. At its peak, as a rough guess, he would be screaming every 3 to 5 minutes... for days on end. I could loan him out for the government’s “enhanced interrogation” program.

According to several sources, including our doctor and a few parenting books, the best way to combat the screaming is to just ignore it. And, yes, of course, when the baby is screaming, the first thing you do is make sure it’s not in any sort of distress. The babies are often doing it for attention and any kind of reaction, even scolding, they interpret as encouragement. So we’ve been doing our best to ignore it. It’s kind of amazing, though, how innate the desire to discourage the behavior is. There have been several times where I’ve told him to stop before realizing I should be ignoring the behavior.

Two weeks ago, we thought the phase was nearly over. The frequency and volume of the screams was decreasing at a significant rate. Our house was blissful. That was about three weeks into this whole endeavor already and we were happy for the reprieve.

How naive we were.

Last week, he picked it back up and reconnected with it like a long lost puppy back from the grave. He cherished screaming like he hadn’t previously. It was a new, previously-undiscovered-by-mankind-level of noise. It drilled through my skull much more than any of his crying ever has. It sapped me of all my energy. I got headaches, attempted to get some work accomplished (with not much luck) and continued to do my best to ignoring it.

It’s starting to lessen again over the past two days and I’m getting hopeful. Perhaps I shouldn’t allow myself such feelings because he may dash them once again. But I have to feel as though it’s going to end soon. I need this, man. Don’t take it away from me.

The Swamp of Sadness

By Doug

So, now that I have a clearer head than I had the other week, I'd like to talk a bit about the flat-out despair I was feeling, from a different (ie: more rational) perspective.

Sometimes, getting slammed with responsibilities can hit you without any warning. One day, you're on top of things. The next day it's, "oh, crap! I have 7,000 things due tomorrow!!"

It can really drag you down. I equate it with that scene in The Neverending Story, where the horse, Artax, was dragged into the Swamp of Sadness, never to be seen again. That's what I was feeling the other week, as all the stress and frustration came to a head, and I decided to let it out in word form. Yet, I still felt like I was sinking further into the Swamp of Sadness.

Surprisingly (for me), two things happened after I posted my little rant that ultimately pulled me out of the Swamp.

The first thing was the comments I got from the fellow at-home dads here, telling me that I wasn't alone in how I was feeling. The truth is, many parents can feel overwhelmed and overburdened. At one point or another, we all start to sink into the Swamp.

I think that something that we all as parents suffer from, is that feeling that we're on an island. The feeling that only my child acts crazy, or I'm the only one out there that can't handle the pressure of everyday life. I'm the bad parent, while everyone else in the whole world seems to have it together.

It's good to have that reminder that you are not on an island; most everyone else is (or has been) in the same predicament. Very few people are that mythical Superdad or Supermom that seem to do everything without breaking a sweat (and those that are like that, I'm convinced are cyborgs).

Hearing the other dads here tell me they go through the same problems I was going through, reminded me that despite the cynical and self-absorbed nature of today's society, it is okay to reach out, because there is a good chance that someone will give you some moral support to help you along.

The other thing to come out of my spleen-venting (though this materialized a few days later) was that it turned out to be just what I needed to do to get back on the horse. A kind of "storm before the calm," so to speak.

Like I mentioned in the other post, I don't normally like to complain. To me, it doesn't feel like it helps in any way. Besides, no one really cares about what I'm dealing with, right? But, I decided that day I really needed to get how I was feeling off of my chest. I said what I needed to say, and had my moment of "woe is me." Then, I finally picked myself up, dusted myself off, and trudged forward. Because really, what else could I do? It's not like the responsibilities were suddenly going to vanish.

I guess that more than anything is the sign I've become a grown-up.

So, while I'd rather not make a habit of it, I'm glad that I did have my moment of venting. While "cathartic" wouldn't be the word I'd use to describe the whole experience, it certainly helped me get back to what I needed to do, as a husband, father, artist, webmaster, and blogger.

Now, of you'll excuse me, I have 6,999 more projects to finish up.

May 05

Blog.

Let me clarify

In the last few weeks I wrote two posts that are, now that I look at them, contradictory. On the one hand I wrote how strong and effective Montessori education is, on the other I wrote that my son (who goes to Montessori school) is no longer engaged in his work.

So Phil asked me, (I’m paraphrasing) ‘do you think that the Montessori system is attempting to engage your son effectively, or do you think there’s a hole in their process?’

Good Point. How effective can Montessori be if my boy just doesn’t want to do any work?

In defense of the school (any Montessori school):

When I wrote about my son not being the student that he used to be, I think I was too brief and didn’t give credit where credit was due. I was actually breathing a sigh of relief that we’re in the type of school that we are. While it IS frustrating, our situation isn’t as bad as most. I think they do more to close the hole that Phil asked about than most other curriculums.

A few examples.

First, part of the Montessori philosophy of learning is that the more senses that are touched during a lesson, the better that lesson is learned. So, most lessons (especially math) are taught using materials that the kids manipulate and work with. It does keep distractible boys better (not totally, but better) focused than text books and work sheets. So that’s good.

Second, a part of the Montessori teacher’s job, part of their training, is to be an observer of the children, to key in on where their interests are leading them and then hone in on that to engage them better. Each child is taught on an individual level. That’s good too.

My son is severely into mythology, I mean its serious, and they let him pursue that for a lot of his research reports and presentations, instead of, say, the war of 1812.

A lot of schools don’t have that flexibility, they’re locked up in a curriculum that leaves the poor teachers no flexibility at all to engage individual interests. Like a lot of private schools Montessori has the luxury of being more flexible in their approach.

So yes, they are doing a decent job of engaging my son.

All of that being on our side, our boy is better off than most. However, he still has to learn about the war of 1812. He still has to look up words in the dictionary, and (even though he enjoyed the research, and the presentation) he still has to sit down and write a few pages on Typhon and his battle with Zues. He still has to correct his grammar and spelling in his reports. All of this leaves him SOOOO BOOOOORED!

So when it comes to teaching boys (once they hit about 4th grade), Montessori does have the same hole that needs to be addressed. Sure does. I wouldn’t say that it’s as gaping a hole as in most other curriculums, but it’s there.

It's all about the kids

by Carlos

Two and half months ago, Damai, my 5 year old, was sucking her thumb like it was made of honey. She'd suck it in the car, watching TV, at school, when she was up set, or when ever she just felt like she was missing her best friend, Mr. Thumb.

Now, since we started on this program with an orthodontist, she sucks it on average about 2 times a week. I'm really amazed by the success. She does it all for a little star sticker and the chance to have some praise from the orthodontist, a man she calls, "my doctor-teacher," which means she really respects him.

She respects him, buy I don't. This won't be a bashing blog. We've just bumped heads and my pride has been hurt. He called me out on my discipline issues with my kids.

Every night, Damai calls the good doctor to tell him if she's sucked or not. But on days she's failed, she chooses not to talk to him on the phone. One night, he said, we had to have her answer his questions on the phone to keep her accountable. She refused and it took me about 10 min to get her to pick up the phone, all the while he was waiting on the phone and could hear Damai refusing to answer.

She finally answered, but not without the doctor and I having a conversation about her lack of discipline. No doubt, he was right. I have discipline issues with my kids. That was about two or three weeks ago, and since then, I've been trying to get a grip on the situation.

But my pride is hurt. Since then, other incidents with him have come up. And I've found myself thinking, "Damai better not suck her thumb today because I don't want to have another conversation with her doctor." That's just stupid!

I had to come to the conclusion, that Damai and I are not in this to please this guy. We're doing this to help Damai stop sucking her thumb. I really see this as a serious thing; sucking her thumb just draws her deeper into herself and she shuts out the world. She relies on it to please herself. I really see this as a battle for her self esteem.

And the good doctor, although I judge him because he doesn't even have any kids, is helping us. He is helping us (please excuse me; I had to re-emphasize that again for myself). Damai and I couldn't do this by ourselves and this guy is really creating successful steps for her.

I also have to remember that I prayed about this. I don't know how many people pay some one to help their kids stop sucking her thumb, but it was weird for me. But in success or failure, I have to realize that Jesus is in control of the situation. It's not for me to jump ship on this program (which I've thought about) just because I judge this guy who, although hurting my pride, has helped my family.

It's about Damai. And for her, hopefully, I can stand this guys a little longer. Maybe even with a little more prayer, I can get past my judgement of him.

On Performing

"So, does she like ice skating?"

"I think she does, yeah."

"Do you think she'll want to keep going with it?"

"So far, it seems she does."

"Start saving your money then."

This was a brief conversation I had at the end of an ice skating show that Brady took part in this past weekend. Brady has only been skating for a few months, so her performance was a fairly simple one. But I soon found out how much she enjoyed performing in front of people, despite her relative newness to skating.

Stacey and I had talked with Brady after her two performances (Friday and Saturday night), and asked if she enjoyed it. We got a fairly enthusiastic "yes" as a response. When asked what her favorite part of the show was, she responded: "The performing, and the waving, and the people clapping."

I'm doomed.

Here's the thing though: there's absolutely no guarantee that Brady will continue ice skating. I mean, I know that she enjoys skating, and is at least planning to keep practicing in the near future. However (as I've mentioned many times before), she tends to be fickle. So for all I know, she could come up to me tomorrow and say she doesn't like ice skating anymore.

No, my prophecy of doom comes from this simple fact: Brady loves to perform. I don't really think I can adequately emphasize that previous sentence enough. There is nothing, and I mean nothing, that excites her more than performing. It could be singing, dancing, acting, whatever. Every time she gets to be in front of people performing, she loves it.

I'm sure there's a certain level of ego involved in her love. After all, she's got all eyes on her, even if she's performing in a group like she did last weekend. She doesn't ham it up, or act like she's the greatest thing since Katherine Hepburn when she does it. She just likes to do it, and if people are watching, all the better.

So, I don't know what path she'll eventually choose on her way to adulthood. For all I know, she could be the most charismatic accountant the world has ever seen. But odds are, all eyes will be on her as she does it. And she wouldn't want it any other way.

Time to start saving up.