Tales From The Dad Side

Solo

2009-12-02T06:15:00.002-05:00

Good Day - Angels and Airwaves
This past Saturday, I had what was probably my most challenging day as a parent. With the exception of breakfast and a couple of hours (most of which fell during afternoon naps), I was completely alone as a parent.

Now, some of the more militant at home parents are rolling their eyes, or grinding their teeth, or perhaps pulling their hair out. "Big deal," they say, "MTM does that every day!" Well, not quite. More on that later.

It started early, when I took both kids to Munchkin's ballet class (which was complicated because: 1. Buddy is quite mobile; 2. Munchkin is not completely independent when it comes to getting into and out of her dance clothes; and 3. the stroller had to be left in the hall). By the time we got home, MTM was gone to a family wedding (well, a family wedding in that it was part of her extended family that was getting married; kids, however, were not a part of the family, and I have a longstanding feud with family members who exclude kids from weddings because I feel that weddings are for families, not just adults).

She returned as Buddy struggled to go down for his (sorely needed) afternoon nap, nursing him to sleep before coming downstairs and ~~gnawing my ear off with family gossip~~ telling me about the wedding. She remained until dinner was pretty much done, and then left for a bachelorette party for a close friend of hers (whose wedding party she is in the week before Christmas).

As for what we did all day? The morning was lost because by the time we got back from ballet it was time for Buddy's morning nap (which he needed thanks to a rough night). We had an early lunch before heading out to do some errands (Christmas shopping for one of my readers; I'm sure you will understand if I do not discuss details). Then home, a snack, attempts at napping (wherein I spent nearly an hour before MTM swooped in with her breasts of slumber), dinner, some tv for Buddy (following a failed bedtime attempt) and then watching Frosty with Munchkin. A pretty good day with Daddy.

Back to the eye-rolling parents from above. The thing about being the other parent (i.e. the one who isn't at home with the kids during the bulk of the day), I have had fewer opportunities to develop strategies and I am, in effect, working in someone else's territory. For instance, I can get my kids a snack, or put them to bed, but I may not do it "how Mommy does it". Don't misunderstand; I'm not complaining about this, but when parents who are primary caregivers scoff at the rest of us when we talk about shouldering a larger portion of the parenting load than we're used to, I get defensive.

Yes, I am their parent, but in some ways I am less their parent than my wife is by the simple virtue of how we spend our days. Both of us are responsible for the well-being of our children, but she dedicates more of her time to that task while I am spending my time at the office or a project site. By those circumstances alone it stands to reason that she would be more efficient at the task than I am.

It is impossible for me to be the same parent my wife is, and even though I know it's not expected of me, I feel like I should be able to make it happen. So when people roll their eyes at me for saying I had my biggest challenge as a parent this weekend, it hurts. I mean, I did my best, but I found it difficult. What's wrong with that?

What are your thoughts on this? Am I projecting how I feel (in other words, not as "good" of a parent as MTM)? Why do at home parents often mock the other parents when they struggle or find child care more difficult?

Christmas With Family

2009-12-01T06:15:00.001-05:00

Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas - The Pretenders
December starts today, which means that (at least for us) it's time to start the strategic negotiations surrounding Christmas visits with family and friends.

The first Christmas MTM and I were together, we went to see Mama Mia on December 23, spent the night at her parents' place (where she was living at the time; the rest of her family had already left for the cottage), and went to our families on the 24th. The next year, we were living together, and again went our separate ways on Christmas Eve, but found it exceptionally difficult and agreed that from then on we would spend Christmas together, alternating between our families. We thought that establishing a schedule and easy to follow routine would reduce complicated scheduling drama.

It has not worked out that way.

Despite the fact that everyone knows where we were last year (and therefore where we will be this year), it always comes as a shock when we ask about Christmas for the "off" side of the family (i.e. the side that we are not seeing Christmas Day).

This year, it's my inlaws. My (childless) SIL ~~refuses~~ finds it exceptionally difficult to accept the fact that, with two small children, we cannot do a family dinner on Christmas Eve starting at 6.00pm or later (so that her workaholic boyfriend can attend). Weeknights are out because they are either booked one of the two days (and of course, they cannot book themselves for two days in the same weekend) or out of town. On top of it all, my MIL has already started moaning about the fact that she has to make two dinners because this year she is hosting Christmas for my FIL's brothers and their kids.

(Incomprehensible aside: MTM's cousin just learned this past weekend that "everyone" - meaning his father's side of his family, including some cousins - are spending Christmas with my MIL and FIL. He and his wife and 18 month old son have already committed to going to his wife's family for Christmas dinner. His response? "Meh, my wife and son can have dinner with her parents. I want my family Christmas." Is it just me, or is that the most fucked up thing to come out of any parent's mouth in the history of mankind? Spend Christmas dinner without your wife and child? Seriously?)

My side isn't a dream either; two years ago when we did Christmas there, the three of us (we were three at the time... aww...) rushed out to my parents' (as most readers know, a four hour drive in good weather) only to discover - upon our arrival - that my sister (who lives two hours away from them, whose exit we pass on the way there) had yet to leave. I was livid, and swore that we would never make that drive on Christmas Day again. Of course, cooler heads (that would be MTM's for those slow on the uptake) prevailed, and we came up with an alternative plan. We are arriving Christmas Day, but the dinner and gift opening and what not happens on Boxing Day, which means we will not have to rush, and my parents get a "Christmas Morning" feel.

And to answer the question/remark that comes up every time we talk about this sort of thing: my inlaws live very close, like 35 minutes by car, and can easily come to us. My parents live, as I've mentioned ad nauseum, over four hours away, and cannot come to visit us due to health complications. This means that if we take the "we are staying home and anyone who really wants to see us can come to us" approach that gets recommended doesn't work because it means my kids never see my parents, and I spend every holiday with ~~people who hate me~~ my inlaws.

(Speaking of my parents' health: my father had an MRI done, and the results came back normal. Whatever the episodes were, they left no long-term effect other than - wait for it - improvement. According to my sisters, he is actually better than he has been since his original surgery. Thanks to everyone who had good thoughts and/or prayers, and who asked about him. I appreciate it.)

So tell me, is it just our families that make the holidays all fucked up? Bitch about your families in the comments and make me feel better.

Random Thoughts About Christmas Photos And Cards

2009-11-30T06:15:00.001-05:00

Take a Picture - Filter
Last Monday I took a sick day, and what are sick days for if not to run around doing errands all day, instead of staying home and resting, so that you're more tired than if you had gone to work? (I kid, sort of. MTM had made the appointment long before I fell ill, and technically gave me the option of staying home, but I felt too guilty to do so.)

We took the kids to get their annual Christmas portrait done, and it was more of a challenge than last year because, well, Buddy has become sentient. To that end, there were many more outtakes and significantly fewer "keepers" than previously.

In the past, we always got a pile of mini-wallet sized photos (something incredibly small like 2"x2.5") to enclose in our Christmas cards. Then last year we actually ran out so I scanned one of the larger photos, put the year on it, and made a 4x6 with two 3x4 copies on it. We were quite pleased with the results, and had decided to just get a small package (so as to get actual studio photos) and then scan and print 4x6 holiday photo-cards for everyone instead of traditional paper cards.

This year, I priced the studio's photo cards and found that for the amount of money we'd pay for printing and envelopes, it was almost as expensive as having them do them, and we'd get 4x8 instead of 4x6 cards. So, we ended up ordering them through the studio after all.

When we got home, we went through the labels file from last Christmas and realized that we keep sending out a lot more cards than we receive, and not that it's a problem, but it was surprising. Are we the freaks for sending out Christmas cards? Do you still send out paper cards (or photo - i.e. not e-cards) to people? Just family? Friends too? I'm curious.

* * *
Since the children were already in their Christmas best, we decided to take them to see Santa at the local mall. Munchkin was stoked: she knew what she was going to ask for (a karaoke machine with disco lights) and was prepared to make a request on Buddy's behalf (something for babies that plays music), plus she was getting a candy cane.

When it came to our turn, Munchkin happily snuggled up to Santa while MTM handed over Buddy, who immediately began to shriek with the terror of someone who has seen pure evil and cannot unsee it. We cajoled; we smiled; we encouraged. We came out with an eerily serene Munchkin smiling nicely for the camera and a snarling tear-streaked face on her baby brother.

Everyone who has seen it says it is so cute and the classic Santa photo. When my sister forwarded it to a friend, the friend did not even realize it was my kids at first; she just thought it was "one of those crying kid/Santa photos".

Personally, I don't like it. It makes me sad to think about how scared he must have been, and now we have this reminder of the event. I know; it's temporary, and he won't remember the fear when he's older, and "everyone" has one of these photos in their family. But in some way it feels like schadenfraude or sadism. Am I nuts? Doesn't it bother you to see a crying kid with Santa?

(As an aside, Buddy loves the photo. He points at it and says, "Ho ho ho". I even had to print him a copy to slide into a magnetic frame so that we could put one on the fridge that he can take down and hug all the time. Seriously, he doesn't remember the "trauma". However, when he went to do another Santa visit with MTM on her birthday later that week, he shrieked and screamed again.)

* * *
Finally, most of you probably noticed I took a bit of a break last week. I did it for a few reasons: I was sick, I was feeling a little burned out, it was American Thanksgiving, and I wanted to see what posting three days a week felt like. What did you think of it? When I asked for feedback last week, many people mentioned that I posted too much. Was last week better? Did you "miss" the five posts - I know at least one of you did; I got an email asking about it.

To You

2009-11-26T06:15:00.001-05:00

Beautiful Day - U2
Today is MTM's birthday. Please click over and wish her Happy Birthday; she loves receiving comments.

This year is not going to be one of the best birthdays she has ever had, mainly because my work schedule sucks (which means I won't be able to get home and cook dinner; plus I'm on site, so they can't even come for lunch) and we have a pile of stuff going on this weekend that she is preparing for right now. The chances of her getting her one wish (Munchkin taking the school bus to school this morning) are highly unlikely, although Munchkin has tried her best to keep up the Mommypalooza tradition by having little gifts for MTM every morning this week. Ironically, she's getting the birthday I always wanted (I'm not a fan of my birthdays or celebrations about me in general, and would be content to let them slip by unnoticed).

But today isn't about me, it's about her. With that in mind, I will share some of the more memorable posts about MTM from the past year (or so):

I spent literally hours investigating what MTM thought was a scam but was in fact something completely legitimate (not to mention important).
I surprised her with earrings last Christmas, even though we agreed not to exchange presents.
She endured some good-natured ribbing as I asked the timeless question, How MTM Are You?
She accidentally overmedicated Buddy, and you all came to her side with your own parenting mistakes.
More recently, she tried to educate Munchkin about germs with unexpected results.

I'm closing comments to this post in the hopes that it will encourage readers to comment over at MTM's blog today. Happy Birthday MTM!

My Interview with Aunt Becky

2009-11-24T06:15:00.001-05:00

Alternate Title: "thinking is hard"

Today's song was chosen by the subject of today's post. She likes crap music.

3 - Britney Spears
A couple of weeks ago, I interviewed Jodifur. At the end of that post, I put out an ~~insincere, half-joking~~ open offer to interview others. Aunt Becky of Mommy Wants Vodka and Toy With Me ~~thought I was serious~~ aggressively sought out an interview (basically, she harassed me over email until I relented). Like last time, I arranged a time for us to chat instead of emailing questions. This is our interview.

(After a half an hour of emails going back and forth, setting up MSN messenger - and having Aunt Becky give me the wrong address and me figuring out her address even though it wasn't mine we finally got chat working on her gmail account. I wish I was kidding or exaggerating. The things I do for my friends, and you people.)

SciFi Dad: So, you first discovered my blog, and you left me a very interesting comment. You asked for my permission to add me to your blogroll. Do you do that with everyone?

(While I was waiting for this answer, I sent her another IM: "Are you aware there's a finite amount of text allowed per message?" Seriously, she took forever to respond to the first question. Between the chat thing and now this, it was not looking up.)

Aunt Becky: When I first started blogging, I was all "OHMYGOD there's some book on blogging etiquette and I DON'T HAVE IT. So any time I found a blog that I liked, I wanted to make sure I wasn't an asshole for adding you. Now I just add people or delete them at will. Because I am the master of my DOMAIN.

SciFi Dad: Did anyone actually reject your request to add them to your blogroll?

Aunt Becky: Shockingly, no. Turns out everyone is as self absorbed as you'd imagine.

SciFi Dad: Because I can imagine some people being like, "Uh no, I don't want you to add me to your blog roll, Uncle Pervy" if that were the case. Speaking of Uncle Pervy, what's it like being an author of teenage erotica?

(In her Toy with Me column she wrote about her first time having sex - at 17 - which technically makes it teen erotica.)

Aunt Becky: Dude. Have you READ Twilight? Okay, me either. But apparently, that shit is HOT.

SciFi Dad: (pulls open shorts, checks) Nope. I've got a penis. I don't read Twilight.

Aunt Becky: Shit, me either. That stuff is for lame wads.

SciFi Dad: But apparently Dakota Fanning is in it, and she isn't all sweet.

Aunt Becky: (jaw drops)

SciFi Dad: I heard an interview where she said it's easy to be evil when you have red contacts in. WHO KNEW?!? And here I was trying to become a sociopath.

Aunt Becky: All along, the key was red contacts. And sweaters made out of the boobs of dead hookers.

SciFi Dad: Shh! My wife reads this blog. Now she's going to know what I got her for Christmas.

(And with that joke, MTM will probably make me sleep on the couch, or the porch, tonight.)

Aunt Becky: (whistles)

SciFi Dad: What movies DO you like to watch? What was the last one you saw?

Aunt Becky: I am not much of a movie person (shock, dismay, BOO, HISS!) but I do like watching TV on DVD because I live in the Stone Age and don't have TIVO. I just finished Weeds Season 4 and Dexter Season 3.

SciFi Dad: Yeah, I'm not allowed to watch Dexter, on account of the whole sociopath thing. What about House?

Aunt Becky: Greg House, MD is my television husband and although we're going through a rough patch on account of him having "feelings" for that other doctor lady, we're working it out. Our mutual love of Vicodin and being rude will see us through.

SciFi Dad: See, now whenever I watch House, I can't get past Wilson. He is, and always will be, the dork from Swing Kids. Have you seen Swing Kids?

Aunt Becky: I think I did when I was a fetus.

SciFi Dad: Right. So then for you Wilson is from Dead Poets Society?

Aunt Becky: Yes. I still think of him as the whiny kid that killed himself when he couldn't be an AC-tor. I saw that part again recently and while I found it super poignant when I was younger, I was all slap, slap "GET A GRIP." I am not a nice person.

SciFi Dad: Dead Poets also had Josh Charles in it (Knox). Have you ever seen Sports Night?

(Josh Charles stars in Sports Night, a short-lived series that was on ABC in the late 1990s.)

Aunt Becky: I have not.

SciFi Dad: Oh, if you want an amazing dramedy from before dramedy was even a term, you have to get the 2 seasons on DVD. Amazing cast (Nate from Six Feet Under, Felicity Huffman, Robert Guillaume/BENSON) and written by Aaron Sorkin. Plus, Lisa Edelstein was a guest star (as a crazy sportscaster). (FYI, Lisa Edelstein plays Cuddy.) (See what I did right there?)

Aunt Becky: You totally drew the two things together. That was very special. You are a very special person.

SciFi Dad: Short bus special or special special?

Aunt Becky: Just special. Special special.

SciFi Dad: OK. Moving on. Going back to nursing school with a baby. That was, if I may say, gutsy as all hell. Why did you do it instead of getting a different job?

(Seriously, people: she was like 20 years old or something, a single mom, and she had the foresight to go back to school. I was so impressed when I learned that.)

Aunt Becky: I was staring down the road of single motherhood and I knew that I needed to graduate with a degree that would allow me to support myself and my son. That left teaching. Or nursing. I am not teaching material. Turns out, I'm not much of a nurse either. But, with no college degree, I would be stuck with a much smaller job pool.

SciFi Dad: So your mom helped you out by watching Ben when you were at school?

Aunt Becky: She did, which was lovely. I worked as a waitress on the weekends and supported us as best as I could. While living at home. It was VERY glamorous.

SciFi Dad: Especially with the Russian mobster wannabe hitting on you.

(She once wrote about this coworker who stalked her and would not take a hint. He would have treated her like gold but she thought she was too good for him.)

Aunt Becky: By "hitting on" you mean "stalking," right? Because he was always trying to do the grand gesture that was going to have me falling into his arms. Can't BELIEVE I didn't go running into them.

SciFi Dad: Stalking is just flirting with more assertiveness.

Aunt Becky: OBVIOUSLY.

SciFi Dad: But having your mom watch Ben caused some challenges with him to this day, right? He bonded to her more than you?

Aunt Becky: Ben is like a Siamese cat. And because I was gone so much, he did bond with her rather than me. I cannot tell you how much this broke my heart. Thankfully Alex is my shadow. Whether I like it or not.

SciFi Dad: Sort of like those Outer Limits episodes where the person wishes for something, then the dude in the antique shop gives them a creepy smile?

(Anyone else still watch Outer Limits reruns? Just me? OK.)

Aunt Becky: Dude. Alex is the Monkey Paw all over again. BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR.

SciFi Dad: So what stage were you at in the nursing school/single mom hotness when you met Dave? How did you meet him?

Aunt Becky: I was in my first semester of nursing school when I met The Daver and I married him 2 months after I graduated (I have my bachelors degree. Do they have bachelors degrees in Canada?).

SciFi Dad: They do. I actually have one.

(It's true: we do in fact have Bachelor's degrees in Canada. We also have Master's degrees and PhDs as well. They're etched into sheets of ice - of course - but we have them.)

Aunt Becky: We met through a friend of a friend, which is one of those ways that I was always scoffing at. "Being set up NEVER works" was like the third thing I told my now-husband on our non-date first date.

SciFi Dad: Hubris much?

Aunt Becky: Wait, is that a condiment?

(See what I mean about the sex stuff? Now she's talking about condom mints?)

SciFi Dad: Yes. It's a mixture of processed cheese and ketchup (or, catsup, as you call it).

(She posted on Friday that Alex likes mixing these two condiments and that it makes her puke to watch him.)

Aunt Becky: Oh, I call it ketchup.

SciFi Dad: Where do they call it catsup then?

Aunt Becky: And I would NEVER touch process pasteurized cheese food. I think that's in the south. I'm in the north.

(For the record, processed cheese food, like Cheez Whiz, is the food of the gods.)

SciFi Dad: You are all south to me. When I first started reading your blog, you were in the midst of secondary infertility. You had Ben and Alex, but wanted a third child. How long did you have to struggle before conceiving Amelia?

Aunt Becky: I hadn't gone back on the pill after Alex was born. SHOCKING, because he was such an Asshole Baby. I had the two back-to-back miscarriages before I got pregnant with Amelia. And now? WE ARE DONE.

SciFi Dad: So did you want three, or did you want a baby girl?

Aunt Becky: I always wanted at least three, but Daver was happy with just Ben. Then he was happy with Ben and Alex and three was our magic number. Apparently, I am very persuasive.

SciFi Dad: Apparently.

(I say as I sit here interviewing you after I already did my interview yet haven't been interviewed myself.)

SciFi Dad: If you had to pick a relatively small finite number of blogs to continue reading, what are some that would make the "short list"? (And don't say mine to kiss my ass.)

Aunt Becky: Well, I would take yours to a desert island with me.

SciFi Dad: (of course, the desert island would have no electricity, rendering that statement meaningless)

Aunt Becky: (DUH)

Aunt Becky: (hang on)(thinking is hard)

Aunt Becky: http://www.alittlepregnant.com/

Aunt Becky: I'M THINKING. IT'S HARD.

Aunt Becky: http://temerity-jane.com/

Aunt Becky: (I'm doing this w/o my reader and that's making my head hurty.)

Aunt Becky: http://babyonbored.blogspot.com/

Aunt Becky: Okay that is all that my pea brain can think of right now. They're all locked in my reader.

SciFi Dad: That only took 10 minutes. Good for you.

(Seriously, people. My gmail chat record actually has a big line in the middle of it with a note that says, "nobody said fuck all for a long-ass time here".)

Aunt Becky: I have a very, very small brain.

(Not even going to comment.)

SciFi Dad: Well, we'll end this with some easy rapid-fire pick-ems then, OK?

Aunt Becky: YES. For small brained people.

SciFi Dad: Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings?

Aunt Becky: Harry Potter. Never saw the other one.

(Saw? Do you think she's aware they were books before they were movies?)

SciFi Dad: Star Wars or Star Trek?

Aunt Becky: Neither.

(At this point I fell on the floor, knocking myself unconscious.)

SciFi Dad: Yak or goat?

Aunt Becky: Uh. I'll take the goat to mow my lawn! I heard it was all eco friendly!

SciFi Dad: Ketchup or mustard?

Aunt Becky: Ketchup. Because I am a six year old.

SciFi Dad: Miracle Whip or Mayonnaise?

Aunt Becky: To lob at your head violently? Either works, I think.

(Comment poll: who prefers Miracle Whip over Mayo?)

SciFi Dad: Chicago style or real pizza?

Aunt Becky: HA. Why have OR when you can have AND.

SciFi Dad: sweet or salty?

Aunt Becky: Why yes I am.

SciFi Dad: Summer or Winter?

Aunt Becky: Spring.

(Sadly, everyone knows the best season is fall.)

SciFi Dad: Favourite colour?

Aunt Becky: Pink sparkly.

SciFi Dad: Britney or Christina?

Aunt Becky: The more the merrier.

(Interestingly, before the kids and the head shaving, I thought they were both pretty hot and would have answered similarly.)

SciFi Dad: Hall or Oates?

Aunt Becky: Can I be the mustache?

SciFi Dad: Mullet or Mohawk?

Aunt Becky: Mohawk. But I'm kind of partial to the rat tail.

SciFi Dad: Any final thoughts? Things you want to share?

Aunt Becky: On a scale of 1 to 10 I am super great.

There you have it: my interview with Aunt Becky; please check out her blog. If you are interested in participating in the Great Interview Experiment, visit the post and leave a comment. Neil will email you the details.

(And, since I enjoyed the interviewing exercise myself, if there's anyone out there who would like me to interview them, let me know and we'll see if we can work something out.)

So what did you think? Did you like the job I did as an interviewer? Will you visit her blog now because of this interview?

State of the Blog

2009-11-23T06:15:00.002-05:00

Try Honesty - Billy Talent
I'm sick; not sick enough that I can feel OK about missing work, but enough that I feel like crap. (No, it's not H1N1; it's probably a head cold that has just hung around longer than it should because I'm sleep deprived and not getting enough vitamins or whatever.) I say this as a warning that today's post will not be of any great length or depth, and may in fact be a bit more whiny than usual.

I have another post all lined up and ready to publish, and I will put that up tomorrow, but today I wanted to take a moment to have a "state of the blog" address, if you will.

Last week, I noticed a significant drop in comments while my visits remained relatively consistent. I published Friday's post (the second journals one) with the knowledge that there was a chance it would not be well received, and everyone who commented said it was quite long or too long (and one person compared reading my journal to reading the Twilight saga; we won't even get into that here). However, the rest of the week's posts were not published with any concern.

This can mean one of a number of things:

Everyone was really busy in the week leading up to American Thanksgiving, so they read but didn't comment.
Readers were unable to "connect" with the posts that went up last week.
Readers found my posts too long or uninteresting and did not read them.
Twitter has started absorbing my comments.

Here's the thing: if you're busy, that's totally understandable and my cold medication is making me paranoid. But, if you felt uninterested, or if you thought something was too long, drop me an email or leave a comment with something like, "Dude, what the fuck are you thinking with seven pages of handwritten journals on a Friday? I'm not reading that shit." You won't hurt my feelings (much) and I would much prefer the honesty to unclear silence.

So, today's comment question is simple: what happened last week? Did I lose my audience and go off into my own world? Did I just post too many journal pages (and if so, what happened on Wednesday when I wrote about side effects)? Is my cold medication and sleep deprivation making me paranoid?

The SFSG Journals, Volume Two

2009-11-20T06:15:00.001-05:00

Superman's Dead - Our Lady Peace
A couple of weeks ago I posted pages from a journal I kept in the fall of 1997 (three years before meeting MTM, when I was SciFi Single Guy - or SFSG - living in Montreal). I thought I'd try posting some more of it.

What follows are the remaining pages (six and a half!) from that first night. (Dude, was I prolific or what? Eleven and a half pages in one night!) I strongly encourage you to read the previous post first, as I mention people from there in this segment.

Click each image to open in a new window. In most browsers, if you click the image (in a new window) it will increase the view to full size, which is easiest to read.

So what did you think? Was the page count too high this time? Do you want to read more? Is the handwriting too difficult to read, or does it lend some authenticity to the post? Your feedback in the comments will determine whether or not I post more.

Language Comprehension, Revisited

2009-11-19T06:15:00.001-05:00

Listen - Toad The Wet Sprocket
Buddy is just over a year (he's 13.5 months, technically), and the list of words that he says is constantly changing. There's nothing too remarkable in the list: Dadda, Mumma, daw (dog), dow (down), baff (bath), ear-piercing, blood curdling screams (I'm hungry, or thirsty, or pissed off about the world's injustices to me).

What is remarkable, at least to me, is his comprehension. In my earliest blogging days, I wrote about this with Munchkin, who was 15 months at the time (yes, I reposted it this past summer too). Buddy is definitely his sister's brother.

All MTM has to do is say that a meal is ready, and Buddy will drop whatever he is doing, crawl to his high chair, and pull himself up to a standing position (where he will wait, relatively patiently, for someone to lift him in).

When someone detects an unpleasant odour coming from his bottom, all they have to do is ask, "Is it time for a diaper change?" and he will scurry to the stairs, waiting to be allowed to climb up into his bedroom where we change him.

After dinner is finished and we have tidied up the toys, we tell him it's time to get ready for bed. He immediately rushes to the stairs and begins climbing up while happily chattering, "Baff! Baff!" (Which makes the nights where we want to skip his bath somewhat difficult.)

But the most amazing moment, at least for me, came last week. He cried from his crib while we were downstairs, and after a few minutes with MTM it was clear he was not going to settle, so I came in and went to work. Unlike past nights, he would not completely calm down for me, but eventually he was quiet enough that I told him it was time for sleep and placed him in his crib.

He immediately sat up and started to cry, so I picked him up (yes, I know I'm a big suck and let him manipulate me) and jostled him a bit before repeating that it was time for sleep and placing him in his crib.

He sat up again, and whined. "Buddy, it's time for sleep now. It's late. If you lie down Daddy will rub your back, OK?" I said.

He looked at me for a moment, sighed, and rolled over on to his tummy. I rubbed his back for a couple of minutes before pulling up the blankets and slinking out of the room.

It amazes me to watch him grow and learn. He understands so many things now (yet does not have the words to share them, which is a source of frustration for him), and is really interested in learning more all the time. He is constantly building his knowledge base, always eager to show us when he understands or has made a connection. MTM and I have talked about it, and we both feel like this age is probably our favourite because of the rapid change and development.

What things can your kids do now that amaze you? Did it happen slowly or does it seem like all of a sudden?

Side Effect

2009-11-18T06:15:00.001-05:00

Breaking The Habit - Linkin Park
When MTM and I discussed having children, one of the decisions we made was that she would be a SAHM. We did this because both of us were raised by SAHM, at least for the first years, and we felt it was good for our kids to have a parent at home with them too.

The decision to have her stay home instead of me was a financial one. My income was greater, and would therefore offer us more financial security. One of the benefits of the arrangement was that MTM was not only a JK/SK teacher, but also had her degree in Child Studies, making her far more prepared for raising children than I was. (Not that I was woefully unprepared, mind you, but with her background and experience, she was more prepared.)

This meant that as Munchkin approached milestones, MTM knew how to stimulate and encourage them. She knew how to encourage her emerging literacy using techniques such as environmental print (using the fact that kids can recognize logos on signs or products to encourage them to read the words in them) or helping her basic math skills with sorting activities. As school approached, MTM was able to help Munchkin overcome her anxiety with the great unknown that is the public school system by "playing school" and giving her real activities. Munchkin even questioned how it was realistic, so we explained that Mommy used to be a teacher, and that satisfied her.

However, there was an unexpected side effect to all that experience that I discovered this week.

Munchkin is still struggling with school, specifically going to school. Once she is in the classroom and MTM has gone (yes, they are still driving to school in the morning, but she is taking the bus home), Munchkin has a blast and comes home every night telling us it was the best day ever. Regardless of this, she still gets anxious the night before school. Monday night was no exception.

"What's going on?" I asked MTM as she descended the stairs after putting Munchkin to bed.

"She's crying."

"I can hear that. About what?"

"She doesn't want to go to school."

"Well, she has to."

"I know."

The crying continued for a few more minutes before I decided to climb the stairs. "May I come in?" I asked at the door.

"Yes," she replied, suppressing the sobs.

"What's wrong sweetheart?"

"I don't want to go to school."

"But honey, you have to. It's the law." (No, it's not the best reason, but it's one that makes it clear that school is a) a necessity and b) not our fault.)

"But I don't need to. I already know math." (She has been "practicing math" by "measuring" things and writing down numbers on a paper lately.)

"Yes, but you can always learn more."

"I don't want to go."

"Why not?"

"Because Mommy and Buddy aren't there. I want Mommy to be my teacher. Mommy's a great Kindergarten teacher."

"But Mommy isn't teaching right now, so she can't be your teacher."

We went back and forth, and I encouraged her to focus on how she felt coming home rather than how she felt leaving her mother and brother. She reluctantly accepted this suggestion, which at least made her stop crying and go to sleep.

But her request stuck with me. It's one thing for a child to miss their parents when they go off to school; they understand that school is for kids and teachers, not parents. But when a parent is a teacher, that introduces a whole new layer of complexity: in her mind, MTM technically could be her teacher, but is choosing not to. I'm not saying I regret the decision to have MTM stay home - far from it in fact - but I will say I did not anticipate that sort of response from Munchkin.

What decisions have you made, either as a parent or in life in general, that have been successful but also had unexpected side effects?

Rocking To Music

2009-11-17T06:15:00.001-05:00

Can't Buy Me Love - The Beatles
I was five years old, probably wandering into the kitchen out of boredom, when I heard something coming from the basement. I descended the stairs and found the door to our rec room partially closed, so I pushed it open. My older sister, 16 at the time, stood in front of our stereo dancing to The Beatles' The Red Album. I walked across the thin orange and brown carpet and sat in the broken orange velour rocking chair that had springs that dug into my back (that my father insisted he liked "for a massage" and therefore refused to throw it out when my mother banished it from the living room upstairs) and rocked back and forth with a smile on my face.

As often as I could (which loosely translated to whenever she wasn't entertaining friends), I would join my sister's listening sessions, always sitting and rocking. In my head, I imagined us (my older sister and I) on some kind of variety show. She would dance, I would be the ~~strange~~ cool announcer who sat in a plush chair and talked into one of those long thin microphones like Bob Barker used on The Price Is Right.

Time moved on, and The Beatles were replaced by the 45" of Billy Joel's Still Rock 'n' Roll To Me. By then I had figured out how to use the stereo effectively enough that she let me play her records even when she wasn't around. One day I turned off the light in the rec room once I had gotten the record playing and just stared at the green and orange lights coming from the receiver. After that, my private listening time was always in the dark.

Around the age of eight I discovered Top 40 radio, which offered me a plethora of listening opportunities instead of the same song or songs repeated. By that point the orange rocker was discarded and replaced with a classic wooden one.

When I was eleven I got a portable cassette player (what everyone called "a walkman" at the time, but mine was a Panasonic, not a Sony), and around the same point my rocking chair was relocated to the unfinished part of the basement. I still rocked in the dark to music as much as ever, even though it was colder and less inviting.

My cassette player was replaced by a portable CD player, as I used music and darkness as a way to hide from everything and everyone. My chair broke and was repaired innumerable times with screws and tie-wraps and supporting pieces of wood were added to prolong its life. Eventually, my listening spot got pushed even further back into the unfinished part of our basement, still with no change in my habits.

When I moved away for university, my parents joked that I would need a rocking chair up there. I never got one, but somehow survived.

As for why I did this, I remember enjoying it as a kid as much as I did as an adolescent. As I got older, it was a way to shut my mind down; if I was feeling stressed or overwhelmed, my mind would continue to cycle through subjects, analyzing and reconsidering and perpetually making me more anxious. (As an aside, looking back I know that the frequency and the reasons I did this were unhealthy, but it never occurred to my parents to do anything about it.)

Whatever the reasons were, it all started with my sister and her music.

Sometimes post ideas just come to me and I write them. Other times, there is a prompt. This video was taken last week in our house:

(Yes, that's Munchkin dancing to "her" music, and yes, that's Buddy sitting and rocking back and forth while watching his older sister dance.)

What things did you do as a kid that you can see your own children doing? Alternatively, what weird stuff did you do as a kid that you hope you children don't do?

Retraction

2009-11-16T13:07:00.000-05:00

Today's post has been removed.

The Great Interview Experiment: Jodifur

2009-11-13T06:15:00.005-05:00

Alternate Title: "Too Bad"

Today's song was chosen by the subject of today's post. She likes show tunes.

Somewhere Over The Rainbow & What a Wonderful World - Israel Kamakawiwoole
Neil over at Citizen of the Month is hosting the second Great Interview Experiment, a project where each person signs up to interview and be interviewed themselves in an effort to show that "everybody is somebody" and that we all have stories to share. I signed up this year, and was given the task of interviewing Jodifur. Because ~~I believe that rules are for losers~~ I suck at following orders, instead of using Neil's directions and emailing a list of questions, I arranged a time for us to chat. This is our interview.

SciFi Dad: So the name... did you ever see that episode of CSI where the guy in a raccoon suit gets hit by a truck, and then they catch that nerdy guy from Sex and the City, and he's dressed up like some kind of cat slut but he swears he's not gay and he goes to these "furries" parties... that's not where your name is from, is it?

(Oh come on, like I'm the only one who thought about that episode when they read the name.)

Jodifur: No, I've never seen any episode of CSI

SciFi Dad: Too bad.

Jodifur: I'm jewish, and jews name for the first letter of a deceased relative. My parents needed a J, and they thought I was a boy, and they only had a boy name picked out. When I was born they were at a loss and went with Jodi, but I always hated my name. It's not a real name. It's a dumb, stupid, not grown up name. Everyone thinks it is a nickname, so I always asked my parents why they couldn't name me Jennifer like every other girl in my generation. So my Dad called me jodifur. So that is why I named the blog that.

(Wow, that was so not about furries.)

SciFi Dad: Interesting. Not as interesting as a blue cat, but interesting. So you recently went through a move, right? Was it to somewhere nearby, or was it a big distance? What prompted the move?

Jodifur: It is about 10 miles away, closer into DC. I always hated my house. We were in a smallish townhouse and I really wanted a single family and my husband wanted to be closer into the city. The DC housing market was tanking and it seemed to be a good time to do it.

SciFi Dad: I understand you got a huge yard as part of the deal too. Your son Michael must love it, especially that amazing play structure.

(seriously people, this thing is epic)

Jodifur: Yes, he loves the yard, and he likes his big play room, although he still says he missed his old house, which surprises me. I never knew he was attached to that house.

SciFi Dad: I can understand. My parents still live in the house they brought me home from the hospital to. I can't imagine another home. Did you move a lot as a kid?

Jodifur: No, only once when I was 13 and I don't remember it being a big deal. I think changing houses and schools has been just too much for him.

SciFi Dad: Did you have any siblings when you moved? Did you have to change schools or anything like that?

Jodifur: I have an older sister, and it was the year I started junior high, so I changed schools, but I would have anyway, it was the school I would have gone to anyway

SciFi Dad: So maybe part of his challenge is dealing with the change in peer group. Is that what you think?

Jodifur: For Michael? Yes, I do. I'm really not sure what the problem is, but I know this school isn't working,

SciFi Dad: They disagree with your theories, though, right? They're making you guys jump through a whole pile of formal identification hoops to put a label on "he misses his old school", right?

Jodifur: Yes. We have seen a developmental pediatrician, an occupational therapist, and a therapist, for everyone to say, "We don't know," and he has low muscle tone, which the school disagrees with.

SciFi Dad: They disagree with a doctor's diagnosis?

(because, you know, school staff know more than professionals)

Jodifur: The occupational therapist. It is like beating your head against a wall.

SciFi Dad: I understand your frustrations.

Jodifur: All of this said, I'd rather not move him because I think the behavior is going to get worse.

SciFi Dad: I think you're most likely correct about that. Changing topics now, you do a shoe post every week. All the ones I saw were women's shoes. Would you post my shoes if I emailed you photos of them?

Jodifur: ABSOLUTELY. I post everyone's shoes. I posted my husband's shoes, I've posted babies shoes.

SciFi Dad: Would I have to shave my legs?

Jodifur: No. I'll post pet shoes...

(People, for the love of all that is good and pure, send her your shoes.)

SciFi Dad: OK. We get it. You like shoes.

Jodifur: I'll post any shoes.

(OK, I promise to stop her shoe talk. Now. Also, I distracted her by sending my shoes for today's post, so if you're ~~a freak like her~~ interested, you can click over and see my shoes.)

SciFi Dad: How about you tell us a story from your blog? Perhaps the one where Michael breaks the toilet? I mean, every man hopes to raising a son who can accomplish that, but few even dare to dream of them doing it at four.

(Seriously, how many dads would be proud of a clogger? Yeah, it'd be a pain in the ass to clear out, but there would be pride too, right?)

Jodifur: He didn't really break the toilet. The toilet in the old house was stuffed up and we couldn't fix it and we called a plumber and the plumber thought he might of thrown something down it but we never found anything. That kid has the memory of an elephant.

SciFi Dad: So it had nothing to do with a crap the size of an elephant then?

Jodifur: No. Plumber had to snake it forever.

SciFi Dad: Too bad.

SciFi Dad: So if you had to classify yourself as a blogger, would you say you're a mommyblogger? A parent blogger? A gossip blogger?

Jodifur: A mommyblogger, but I also am the legal correspondent for mamapop.com.

SciFi Dad: And do you feel the need to defend your choice of label, in light of how mommybloggers are portrayed?

Jodifur: Not really, because I don't do product reviews, and I don't really care. My philosophy is I blog because it is fun, and when it stops being fun I'm not blogging anymore. I don't buy into the crap.

SciFi Dad: Yet you twitter, and even people who use twitter think it is crap. Agree or disagree?

(Oh yes, I went to the Twitter. This should be fun.)

Jodifur: I love, love, love twitter. What about twitter is crap? I don't twitter to promote myself, I twitter my every thought.

SciFi Dad: Because every thought you have deserves to be shared?

Jodifur: No, because I have too much time on my hands. I once had someone email me to tell me they had to unfollow me on twitter because I tweet too much. I firmly believe I am the least important person in every room, and that includes twitter. I do kind of hate the new twitter list thing.

SciFi Dad: Do you think that the advent of twitter has helped or harmed blogging as a whole?

Jodifur: I think it has helped bring the blogging community together, but people comment less, because they just @ you on twitter and I love comments.

SciFi Dad: Do you find you post less because you condense post topics into 140 character chunks?

Jodifur: Sometimes, but lately I'm struggling for topics big time because all of my topics are I HATE MICHAEL'S SCHOOL and how boring is that? I also think blogs ebb and flow. When i got sick last year my blog was really my life line, and then our move became a huge thing, now I have nothing to say.

SciFi Dad: So the lupus is under control?

(Yes, she has lupus. She was diagnosed last year.)

Jodifur: Yes, actually, i feel really good.

SciFi Dad: That's good to hear. It must be difficult, raising a child, having a career as an attorney, all with a helping of incurable illness on the side.

Jodifur: My mom once gave me the best advice ever: "You get through in life what you have to." Plus, I only work part time, and it would help if my kid wasn't imploding.

(OK, who doesn't love her mom now? Plus, she comments on her blog regularly.)

SciFi Dad: For the record, I assumed you worked part time when you said you have too much time on your hands. I have never met a mom who said that before in my life. What's it like, being a mom with too much time on her hands? Is it everything other moms dream it could be?

Jodifur: I was being sarcastic. I multi task well.

(Oh really? Anyone else see a multi-task-off in the future? Two moms enter, one mom leaves! Two moms enter, one mom leaves!)

SciFi Dad: And here again we have proof of the need for a sarcasm font, as I was being sarcastic as well.

Jodifur: Yes.

(Seriously people, we need to get working on this. What about bold italics underlined?)

SciFi Dad: Is there anything else you would like to share? Another story from your blog? A plug for something?

Jodifur: I plug nothing.

SciFi Dad: You leave that to Michael, right?

(Score!)

Jodifur: Of course.

Jodifur: Well mamapop.com is the place for all things pop culture, of course. Another story from my blog, do I have stories? I guess I always say jodifur celebrates the randomness of life and it really does.

SciFi Dad: What about your favourite post?

Jodifur: I write about anything and everything. Look here - http://jodifur.com/favorite-posts.html, but my most recent favorite post is this one. And my 3 year blogiversary is next week! 3 years of this nonsense!

SciFi Dad: Congratulations, and thank you for taking the time to chat with me. It was great getting to know more about you.

Jodifur: I love that you watch Glee by the way, my husband hates it. This was soo much fun. I wish I would have thought of it for the person I'm interviewing. I have to go work out now because I have too much time on my hands.

(We had to schedule this interview around my tv schedule, which that night included Glee.)

There you have it: my interview with Jodifur; please check out her blog. If you are interested in participating in the Great Interview Experiment, visit the post and leave a comment. Neil will email you the details.

(And, since I enjoyed the interviewing exercise myself, if there's anyone out there who would like me to interview them, let me know and we'll see if we can work something out.)

So what did you think? Did you like the job I did as an interviewer? Will you visit her blog now because of this interview?

Involved

2009-11-12T06:15:00.002-05:00

I Try - Macy Gray
On Saturday morning, I took Munchkin to ballet class, and after we went grocery shopping to grab some ingredients for dinner. As we walked around the store we chatted about various topics, and several times (especially in the checkout line) I noticed women watching us and smiling.

*    *    *
That afternoon, MTM took Munchkin out on some errands, leaving Buddy and I to ~~get loaded, play cards, and hire strippers~~ our own devices. He and I played, and goofed around, and even watched a little tv (Yo Gabba Gabba, for those who want to know - he was only interested in the music, when they were just talking he walked away).

*    *    *
That night after the kids were in bed, MTM and I were playing a game at the kitchen table (for the first time in forever - seriously, we never do this anymore) when I told her about the grocery store that morning.

"They were just enjoying you being an involved dad."

"Seriously?"

"Not many are."

"Come on. It's not that rare."

*    *    *
On Sunday morning, I took Munchkin out for breakfast to Chez Ronaldo. We both got Happy Meals. We both got girl toys. I no longer have My Little Pony. sigh

Another dad was there, and we chatted while our kids (his three daughters and Munchkin) played. He seemed like a good guy: he did that (breakfast out with his three girls) regularly so his wife could sleep in.

*    *    *
Later that morning, MTM took Munchkin to a birthday party while Buddy and I ~~dabbled in crystal meth and read Playboy~~ hung out (well, if your idea of "hanging out" invovles two poopy diapers) and had some lunch.

When MTM and Munchkin got home, the four of us went outside to meet our neighbour's new puppy. While we were outside, MTM remarked that Buddy was stinky, and I chortled, "Hey I did two while you were gone... this one's yours."

Without missing a beat, our (other, non-puppy-owning) neighbour (with two kids of her own who enjoy an involved dad) chimed in, "Well, I'm sure she's changed more than two this week."

A few minutes later, I excused myself, saying that I had to go in and make dinner. The neighbour didn't acknowledge my statement.

*    *    *
I know I've written about this before (and that post spawned its own sequel, but it's sort of a hot button topic with me, the whole involved dad thing). I mean, it may not be a majority of dads (from my personal experience it is a majority - not necessarily a strong majority - that try their best to be involved) but it is certainly more commonplace than rare.

So then, why is it that a dad who takes his daughter for groceries and chats with her, is met with such a response? Don't misunderstand, I know that the women meant nothing but kindness, but would they have responded the same way if Munchkin were talking with MTM? That's the rub.

Furthermore, since when is parenting a competition? I make no secret of the fact that I change fewer diapers than MTM. Part of it I will admit is because my stomach can't handle really bad smells, but a larger part is that Buddy is at an age where changing him is an Olympic event, and MTM has way more training than I do. Does the fact that I don't wipe poo as often as the parent who stays home with him all day mean that I'm somehow shirking my responsibilities as a father? Really?

What are your thoughts on the above? Why is a dad talking to his daughter in public more interesting than a mom? Also, tell me that my neighbour was out of line (or lie to me if you don't think so).

"My Daddy"

2009-11-11T06:15:00.003-05:00

Sweetest Thing - U2
Last night after I came home from work I was suddenly overwhelmed with gastro-intestinal distress (I will spare you the details of that adventure). In between running to the bathroom, I tried to rest in bed. I skipped dinner completely.

When I came downstairs, Munchkin asked me to stay out of the kitchen. MTM mouthed that she was making a craft for me (click all images to enlarge):

from left to right: Buddy, MTM, Munchkin, me (wearing a tie and a shirt with a happy face on it)
It should be noted for the record that I have worn a tie three times in Munchkin's life: my grandmother's funeral and two weddings.

"Daddy! You didn't see the back," she said.

"What's on the back?"

"A poem I wrote for you."

"A poem?"

"Yes. Do you want me to read it to you?"

"I most certainly do."

My Daddy

My Daddy and me like to play

My Daddy and me like to snuggle together

My Daddy and me like to cuddle in the big bed.

In case you're wondering, here's the poem with text indicating where the verses are:

I had no words.

What have your kids done to surprise you lately?

Dealing and Lying

2009-11-10T06:15:00.002-05:00

Lies - Evanescence
Thanks for all your kind words yesterday. His appointment with the specialist is actually this morning, so we don't know any more than we did before (other than the receptionist telling my mother to expect a lengthy appointment as they plan to run a battery of tests, which I suppose is a good thing).

To be completely honest, I didn't think that much of the sudden numbness on Friday. Part of my father's symptoms that precipitated his surgery included numbness, and he struggles with circulation problems a lot, so while the revelation was worrisome, it wasn't frightening.

However, when I learned that it happened again two days later, and that he had wet himself, and that he was sufficiently concerned to call an ambulance, then I started to panic.

I mean, this was my dad, who, for all his faults and shortcomings, is still my dad.

I kept it together, thanks in no small part to the fact that I reclaimed dinner preparation from MTM. (Originally, my plan was to make dinner - a beef tenderloin roast, if you want to know - but once everything was prepared and cooking, I realized the Lions were on tv and she kindly offered to finish the meal for me. However, when I got that first call on Sunday I knew I needed to be distracted, so I took over again.) A few times during dinner I got a little choked up, but ultimately I fought back the tears. (Actually, I haven't had any tears.)

If anything, I was probably more affectionate with the kids than normal, telling them I loved them more and asking for hugs and cuddles from Munchkin. (Buddy, who enjoyed the meal immensely, was covered in bits of potato and gravy, and therefore not an ideal candidate for in-meal hugs. He did, however, get his fair share after being wiped up.)

Obviously, we have not told the kids (really, Munchkin, as Buddy is too young to comprehend) anything yet, and unless she's really good at hiding it, she has no idea what is going on. Occasionally, I can see her wondering why my behaviour is different than normal, and I want to tell her the truth, but I don't want to worry her.

On the one hand we are keeping something from her, but on the other the question is what can she do with that information. (Of course, the same rationale could be used for me: I'm 400km away. What good does knowing about this do me?)

I don't know what I'm trying to say. It's difficult to have concerns in your life when you have children. You can't respond the way you normally would, and you have to maintain the illusion that everything is OK for their sake.

I just can't shake the feeling that I am lying to her, something that we have tried so hard to instill in her as a forbidden action.

It's complicated, and I don't know how much of what I'm feeling is because of my dad and how much is related to my mind manufacturing issues to deal with to distract myself from the problem.

What do you think? Do you lie to your kids about stuff if you are trying to protect them? Does it bother you to lie to them? Am I just over-thinking everything right now?

I also have a new review up for Febreze SPORT Extreme Odor Eliminator.

Numb

2009-11-09T06:15:00.002-05:00

Sometimes when you blog about having nothing to blog about, fate's fickle hand curls itself into a fist and handballs you.

I Don't Want To Think About It - Wild Strawberries
On Friday night, as we were cleaning up after dinner, MTM said, "You should call your parents and see how your mom is feeling."

"OK." A minute later, the phone rang. The caller ID said it was my parents. Well, that's convenient, I thought.

"Hello?"

"Hey SciFi." It was my younger sister (the one who lives a few blocks from my parents). "Dad said he wanted me to call you."

"Why?"

"Well, I just got here, but he called me in a panic because he was standing up when all of a sudden his right leg went numb and he couldn't stand on it."

Fuck. "What?"

"He was standing at the counter. Apparently he was able to lower himself safely and drag himself to his chair."

"And how is he now?"

"Oh he's got feeling back. He can feel me touch his feet and everything."

"And it was just his leg?"

"Well, and his arm a little. But he was totally coherent. Mom thinks it was a TIA."

"OK. So are you guys going to the hospital?"

"No, he doesn't want to."

"OK. Can I talk to Dad?"

"Sure. Hang on."

"Allo."

"Hey Pop."

"Hi. I'm OK."

"You're not OK. Your leg went numb."

"But it's OK now."

"You think you should go to the hospital?"

"No. It's OK now."

"What happened?"

"I was in the kitchen, getting a beer," Of course you were "when I feel it go."

"That doesn't sound good."

"Meh, it's OK now."

*    *    *
"What's up?" MTM asked when I hung up. I filled her in.

"So is he going to Emerg?"

"Nope."

"Why not?"

"He doesn't want to."

"Do you think he should go?"

"Yeah, but I'm not going to start a fight when there's nothing I can do here except piss him off."

*    *    *
Sunday afternoon, I was watching some football when the phone rang.

"It's [my older sister]," MTM said as she picked up. "Hello? Again? They called the ambulance? So now what?"

"Uh, can I talk?" I interrupted.

"I think your brother wants to talk to you."

"Hey."

"Hey. So [younger sister] didn't call you?"

"No, not yet. What happened?"

"His leg went numb again. They called an ambulance."

"And?"

"And that's all I know."

"OK."

*    *    *
The phone rang during dinner that night. I jumped to get it. It was my older sister's number.

"Hello?"

"Hey. So he's in an ambulance. He walked to the stretcher himself. Mom and [younger sister] are waiting for a cab."

"OK."

"It was both legs this time, and he wet himself. Mom is in hysterics."

"Jeez."

"When I talked to his surgeon before his surgery, he said if Dad didn't have the surgery that one morning in the next six to 12 months he'd wake up paralyzed from the waist down and have wet himself."

"Huh. So maybe the surgery bought him 18 months."

"I don't know."

"Me neither."

*    *    *
The phone rang as we were putting the kids to bed. Again, it was my older sister.

"Hey."

"Hey. [younger sister] went home because they only let one person in the room and Mom's there."

"OK."

"The doctors think it was a TIA. They're waiting for blood results, but unless that turns up something, they're sending him home tonight with a referral to a TIA clinic."

"So wait, he's had two in three days, and they're going to send him home knowing he's likely to be back the day after tomorrow?"

"Yep."

Fuck.

*    *    *
I got two emails from my younger sister later last night. The first one was sent at 12.07am and said that he had gone for a CAT scan and they did not think he would come home that night. The next one was sent at 1.00am, and said he was home and that the ER doctor thought it was a mild stroke, and he needed to see a specialist ASAP.

*    *    *
And that's where we stand as of now. I feel scared and nervous and uneasy. It's hard for anyone to think about their parents getting sick or weak, but (at least I think) it's harder for a man to see his dad like this. It's probably some stupid macho guy thing, but it is what it is.

So, if you're so inclined, have a good thought for my dad today (or, if your faith suggests prayer, that's good too). He could use it.

And in the comments, tell me things about your weekend to distract me, OK? OK.

In less depressing news, Munchkin has selected the beautiful Miss L. of Dads Who Mock The World fame, as the winner of her first contest. Miss L.'s ballerina costume, combined with her wonderful pose, won Munchkin's affection. Thanks to everyone who entered. We all enjoyed seeing your costumes.

The SFSG Journals, Volume One

2009-11-06T06:40:00.000-05:00

Paranoid Android - Radiohead
A couple of weeks ago, while searching for my school scrapbook, MTM also discovered a journal I kept in the fall of 1997 (three years before meeting her, when I was SciFi Single Guy - or SFSG - living in Montreal). As I am still in a weird place with my blogging right now (in other words, struggling to find post ideas), I thought I'd try posting some of it.

Originally, I was going to transcribe it to text, but after confirming with MTM that my handwriting is (relatively) legible, I decided to scan the pages instead. I have redacted some identifying elements, but nothing too significant. What follows are the first five pages.

Click each image to open in a new window. In most browsers, if you click the image (in a new window) it will increase the view to full size, which is easiest to read.

So what did you think? Did you enjoy this glimpse into my ~~boring~~ ~~pathetic~~ ~~lonely~~ past? Do you want to read more? Is the handwriting too difficult to read, or does it lend some authenticity to the post? Your feedback in the comments will determine whether this is a one-off, or if I will post more.

Munchkin's Contest will be open for entries until 11.59pm EST tonight. Please send in your costumes; she's really enjoying seeing all of them.

The Baby Whisperer

2009-11-05T06:15:00.002-05:00

Good Enough - Evanescence
I stepped out of the shower a couple of mornings ago, and I could hear him screaming. I didn't know if MTM was making him cry himself to sleep or if something worse was going on. After I got dressed and said my goodbyes to a Munchkin who should have been sleeping (but rarely seems to be when I'm heading to work), the light went on in his room: a sign that my presence was permitted (not permitted, but that it was OK for me to come in; sometimes I just leave it because MTM feels I get him wired up and he's less likely to fall back asleep).

He was writhing in her arms (technically he was in her arms, but he was struggling mightily to get out of them). I asked if I could take him, and with her acceptance of my offer I took him. He stopped crying and laid his head down on my shoulder, pressing his soft curls into my neck. I stroked his hair, kissed his cheek, and whispered, "Daddy's here. Everything's OK. Daddy's here."

He started murmuring like he does when he's falling asleep, so I stood up and rocked him near his crib. "Time for sleep," I said, and he gently pushed away and rolled in the direction of his crib; a sign that he's ready to be put back down. I laid down him gently, handed him Paddington and Iggle Piggle, covered him with a blanket and left.

He slept later than usual that morning.

*    *    *
"How long was he like that?" I asked that evening when I got home from work.

"Maybe 20 minutes; then I gave in and nursed him. He drank a bit, then started screaming again. We'd been at it for an hour total, I think."

"You should have called me sooner."

"But you need your sleep for work."

"But he falls asleep for me."

*    *    *
Yesterday morning, Munchkin was in bed with me when she startled me out of sleep with a big coughing fit (she was fine, it was just a big cough). As I sat up I heard Buddy crying as hard as he was the previous morning, so I started to his room.

I met MTM, who heard the coughing and feared the worst, in the hall. She went to tend to Munchkin and I pulled a sobbing Buddy from his crib.

Once again, he settled immediately, and once again, after a few minutes he was signalling that he was ready to go back to his crib and sleep.

"See?" I said to MTM as I came back to our room.

*    *    *
At this point, I figured Buddy was in the mood for a change. MTM does the nights because she's still breastfeeding him, so rather than both of us being sleep deprived, we opt for just her. Usually he gets like that in the early morning hours, after a long night with MTM, so my theory was I was "something different".

I mean, she was his only source of nourishment and comfort (he never really took to a pacifier) for months, and he's more affectionate with her. It makes sense that he's more comfortable with her, doesn't it?

*    *    *
Last night, while we were downstairs watching a DVD (Eragon, which, despite its obvious use of the epic hero motif and the clear influence of Star Wars Episode IV, is an enjoyable film), Buddy started crying. After a few minutes without settling, MTM said she'd go get him and bring him down.

I heard him continue to scream through the monitor after she picked him up.

"Daddy will be here soon," she said softly.

I waited, figuring she meant he would see me soon (as in, when she brought him downstairs).

"Daddy's coming, Buddy."

Still, I waited.

"I'm sure Daddy will climb the stairs any minute," she said, tersely. Turns out he was so aggressive that she couldn't carry him down the stairs safely.

Whoops. Guess I should have taken the first hint.

Once more I took my boy into my arms, and once more he quieted down and rested his head on my shoulder immediately. I held him a few minutes longer than I needed to, before putting him back in his crib and rejoining MTM downstairs.

*    *    *
I realized as I came downstairs that it wasn't as simple as Buddy being "bored" of MTM, that my uncanny ability to settle him from a state where MTM cannot even carry him and has to resort to sitting or lying down with him is the product of something more. Call it a connection, call it a bond (call it a yearning for more time with an often absent working father - but not to my face, at least not right now; I'm enjoying the alternatives too much), call it whatever you want.

I might not be his favourite, and I might not be the one he's bonded to, but I'm his Daddy, and he's my boy, and that's good enough for me.

Spousal Language

2009-11-04T06:15:00.004-05:00

So They Say - Soul Attorneys
MTM and I have lived together for over eight years now, and in that time we have developed our own language. A single word or a partial expression can often convey meaning beyond what most people will get. It has also proven invaluable when trying to hide things from a precocious junior kindergartener. What follows is a sampling of some of our more common ones.

craptacular
Definition: of inferior quality and style quotient; typically refers to a decoration (also abbreviated to tacular now that "crap" is not something we want uttered to the teacher)
Origin: Simpsons episode; Bart refers to Homer's holiday light display with the same word

dr. phil
Definition: a relatively new entry into our vernacular, it is a code word for "you need to back off because you're getting too pissed" or "I need you to step in because I'm getting too pissed" when dealing with behaviour issues (typically it is me getting pissed)
Origin: MTM's friend uses the same technique with her husband (I think this is called "training"), in reference to Dr. Phil always giving parenting advice

we share everything
Definition: when something negative is being experienced by one person (such as sickness or shitty mood), the other partner inevitably gets pulled into the vortex of suck
Origin: a reference to our wedding, where MTM read the children's book We Share Everything! as part of her speech

but then the monkeys
Definition: that is highly unlikely
Origin: abbreviated form of "if that happens, then monkeys will fly out of my ass"

MTM happened to me
Definition: something has been moved, put away, relocated, tidied, or discarded without one's consent (whenever something goes missing, I (and now occasionally Munchkin) will say that MTM happened to us)
Origin: MTM has a long and well documented history of such behaviour

boh
Definition: an audible shrug (for example: "What do you want for dinner?" "Boh. Doesn't matter.")
Origin: my father says this all the time; I picked it up from him and MTM from me (now she says it - without thinking - to people like my MIL, who look at her like she's been hit on the head)

you want I should break leg
Definition: would you like me to seek out revenge on your behalf?
Origin: typically said with a thick eastern European accent, it's probably from an old movie about gangsters that I no longer remember

what do you think?
Definition: 1. Tell me what you think. 2. Tell me you agree with me.
Origin: I have no idea how two such disparate meanings can be applied to the same phrase, but it is probably the most maddening part of our marriage; sometimes I'm supposed to just shut up and agree and others I'm supposed to give an opinion

What about you and your spouse or partner? Do you have little words or phrases that are nonsensical to most people but mean something to you? What are they, or are my wife and I just freaks?

Munchkin's Contest will be open for entries until 11.59pm EST Friday, November 6, 2009. Please keep sending in your costumes; she's really enjoying seeing all of them.

No Idea

2009-11-03T06:15:00.001-05:00

Not My Idea - Garbage
"I've been thinking about scaling back," I said to MTM after the kids went to bed last night.

"On your blog?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"Nights like tonight. I don't have anything pressing to write about, so I'm probably going to go downstairs and churn out something that I didn't need to post."

"That's why I don't post to a schedule."

"I know."

*    *    *
It would have been easy to just not post today; I could have taken the night "off" and done whatever. Instead, I combed through my archives and read over the various "post ideas" files sitting in my Blog folder.

Nothing struck my fancy.

Part of it is work, which kicked my ass particularly hard yesterday (I was even heard to say to someone in a conference call that I stopped reviewing their application when I was faced with the choice to either stop or throw my laptop out the window), and the fact that I didn't get a chance to at least jot down some ideas during the work day.

Part of it is Munchkin, who, in addition to her freaky fever dreams, is even more whiny than her usually over-sensitive (is that the politically correct term for whiny?) self.

Part of it is the time change, which is not hitting me that hard, but has turned Munchkin the early riser into Munchkin the "sweet merciful crap child, why won't you sleep".

Part of it is the hangover from a difficult weekend with a sick child and two overtired parents snipping at each other.

Whatever the reason, I struggled to find something to say.

*    *    *
Sometimes, I have these ideas, these visions of (what I think will be) a great post, but I can't figure out how to get the images out of my head and into words in a manner that satisfies me.

Last night after dinner, the four of us were rolling around on the floor (technically two of us were moving while the other two struggled to find the will to stay awake). Buddy was the most active of all of us, crawling from MTM to me and back again, always stopping to bite her nose or cheek. He got into a what I would call a little game: he would crawl away into the (dark) kitchen, play a quick "peek-a-boo" with MTM, then scurry back and bite her face, laughing, and crawl away again to the kitchen.

I sat back and watched him, at once in awe of his development and envious that she could get such a response. (I try to get on the floor with him every night after work or after dinner. We play ball, or I hide under pillows so he can "find" me, or I feign sleep so he can "wake me up", or I chase him and tickle him. But he never wants to kiss me or bite me like MTM. He's happy to play with me, but only for so long before he needs to check out what MTM is up to.) Then I felt like shit for being jealous of my wife.

*    *    *
I'm in a weird place right now (obviously), and while this is clearly not my best work, in a strange way it pleases me (I know I am coming to the end of the post here). I don't know if anyone else will like it; those who come here looking for thought-provoking or discussion topics probably won't. But that's OK. Not everyone has to like everything.

Do ever you find yourself compelled to do something that you don't have to do? How do you deal with those feelings? Also: how are your kids handling the time change, because I need to know that mine aren't the only ones who get all messed up with it.

Scary

2009-11-02T06:15:00.001-05:00

One could read the title and, given the fact that this is my first post since Halloween, assume that today's post is about a spooky night we had trick-or-treating. One would be wrong.

Scared - Three Days Grace
On Thursday night, as MTM and I were watching Grey's Anatomy, Munchkin started to cough - hard - and then she started to gag, and we both ran upstairs because Munchkin has a long and sordid past that involves coughing and vomit. She didn't get sick, but she ended up in bed with me that night after MTM went to nurse Buddy.

She spent the better part of Friday on the couch watching Treehouse and whining about everything her little brother did, including looking at (and away from) her. That night, MTM went out to do some groceries after the kids were in bed. She had been gone maybe 30 minutes when I heard noises coming from Munchkin's room.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" I asked, entering her room.

"I... want... Mommy!" she said, in between sobs.

"Mommy's out, but I'm here. It's OK. Do you need a cuddle?"

"I need Mommy," she said, still sobbing. "It hurts!"

"What hurts?"

"Everything."

I tried for five minutes: holding her, rubbing her back, getting her a drink of water, stroking her hair. None of it worked. I called MTM and suggested she come home ASAP.

I went back upstairs and told her that MTM was coming home soon. I also took her temperature. She had a fever.

"OK."

"Do you want me to wait with you."

"Yes, and I want the monkeys to leave."

"What?"

"The monkeys are bothering me."

"What monkeys?"

"The ones from Diego."

* * *
MTM came home, gave her some Advil for the fever, and a little Mommy TLC for the rest of it. While she was upstairs, Munchkin informed her that she hated her bedroom, and later instructed MTM to leave the room, but to not go too far, just into the hall. (Apparently, she said this angrily.)

That night, Munchkin was again in bed with me, when she suddenly woke me with a loud, "No!"

"Huh? What?"

"I don't want them to enter my contest!"

"OK. They won't."

"OK," she said, turning over and falling asleep.

* * *
I have seen my kids sick before. I am all too familiar with feeling helpless and frustrated. But I found Friday night particularly frightening as a father. It's one thing for your child to be sick and moan in bed with a cold or flu, or even to have a formal diagnosis from a doctor and need to be hospitalized, but for some reason those feverish dreams (or semi-conscious hallucinations) really freaked me out. She was so lucid, so aware of everything going on - she was coherent enough to stop herself from falling asleep once she knew MTM was en route, forcing herself to sit up and wipe her eyes - yet was honestly convinced there were monkeys in her room annoying her.

What stuff has really gotten to you as a parent, has totally rocked you to your core, even though you didn't expect it to? Also, is my kid the only one with the freaky fever dreams?

Munchkin's Contest will be open for entries until 11.59pm EST Friday, November 6, 2009. A huge thank you to everyone who has entered so far, with special acknowledgment to the super-keen Blogging Mama Andrea, smiles4u, and Leanne for having their entries in before the end of Halloween night. It made up for the fact that she only got to trick-or-treat at a few close houses on Saturday. Please keep sending in your costumes; she's really enjoying seeing all of them.

Devil's Night

2009-10-30T06:15:00.001-04:00

Devil In A Midnight Mass - Billy Talent
When I was a kid growing up, tonight (October 30) was almost more exciting than Halloween, and as I got older it became the focus of this time of year for a lot of my peers. Tonight (at least where I grew up) was Devil's Night.

In a nutshell, Devil's Night was a night of vandalism, pranks, and often arson. The local news always led with a big fire or two, and there were (and still are) huge community efforts to "take back the night" from the hoodlums and vandals that got featured as well.

I have memories of watching the dumpster for the apartment building at the end of my street burning from my kitchen window. I remember coming to school the morning of Halloween to discover an entire classroom's windows soaped (and my school's windows were huge and covered most of the one wall), and slanderous messages (like a certain teacher is a [insert inappropriate colloquialism for homosexual here]) spray painted on doors. Of course, there were also the standard toilet papering of trees and throwing of rotten eggs (but really, compared to spray paint and fire, do they even count?)

When I first moved here, I was surprised at the lack of coverage Devil's Night got, but I chalked it up to being in a suburb rather than the real city. Then I moved in with MTM, and she was teaching in an urban neighbourhood. I warned her about all the horrible things that were likely to happen to her school (and she was suitably freaked out) only to discover that none of it happened. Then we moved to our house, and again I braced myself for the worst, and yet again nothing came of it.

Which brings me to my point: was Devil's Night a local phenomenon, known only to the kids where I grew up, or have I just stumbled into the one place where it doesn't exist? What sorts of pranks happen around your neck of the woods tonight? And, what happens tomorrow night (Halloween, for those less "in the know")? I am very curious about this.

Finally, I have this:

To those too busy/lazy to watch - and trust me when I tell you that you are missing out on three minutes of unfiltered cuteness - my daughter is having a contest. Email me (at talesfromthedadside [at] gmail [dot] com) a photo of you or your kids in a Halloween costume and she will choose a winner to receive a handmade craft and a mix CD.

Of Halloween And The Future

2009-10-29T06:15:00.003-04:00

Stupid Girls - Pink
A few days after Munchkin was born, after the zOMG she's so beautiful and perfect and I will hug her and love her and call her George (as well as after the "holy fuck who left me in charge of another life?"), I had the same sobering realization every first-time father of a daughter has:

One day she is going to grow up, and guys are going to look at her and think about her the same way I looked at and thought about girls when I was a teenager.

While I cannot speak for all men, I can say that my thoughts as a teenaged boy were not all about holding hands and going for walks on the beach (unless those are euphemisms in your world, in which case maybe it was about that).

Like many fathers, I joke about the day coming where I buy my shotgun and rocking chair for the front porch (and it goes without saying that Munchkin will only be allowed to date from spring to fall, as I cannot be expected to sit out there in the snow), and I would be lying if I did not admit that there is a small amount of truth in there somewhere. I have accepted the fact that one day my little girl will grow up. I may not like it, but I have accepted it.

One of the areas of potential conflict that had not occurred to me yet was Halloween costumes. Thus far, Munchkin has had four costumes: butterfly (pink and soft), Nemo (think a huge stuffed Nemo toy with a hole cut through it for a kid to stand in), bunny (white and furry) and monkey (again, furry). This year she's going to be a "cupcake waitress": the basis is the cupcake bodysuit from her recital, and she'll have a tray of fake cupcakes, and a cupcake bun in her hair. (At one point, she was going to be Boba Fett - we had the costume and everything - but I nixed it because I anticipated her changing her mind to something more girly.) I thought we had a number of years before we would be in "you're not leaving the house wearing that" mode.

Then, I read about Noah Cyrus. (Go ahead and click the link and look at the photos. I'll wait.)

Once I had sorted out the confusion (namely, "Wait, isn't Noah a boy's name? That's a pretty feminine looking boy then. What? She's a girl named Noah?"), I did some thinking (and a little math). See, in about four or five years my daughter will, in all likelihood, enter the tween phase, and if past iterations of tweens are any indication, her ~~deity~~ major influence will be a girl with ties to Disney who is around 14 or so. Guess who will be 14 in five years, and has a history of family ties to Disney? That's right: Noah Cyrus.

What kind of portent is it that my daughter's likely "role model" in five years is wearing a Halloween costume that I (and I think many parents, not to mention individuals with a modicum of sanity or humility) consider inappropriate for a teenager now, at nine years old? Seriously, if this is acceptable at nine, where does she go when she's 15? Body paint? That black outfit with the clear plastic over the chest like Jane Fonda in Barbarella? Lady Godiva, minus the long hair? I shudder when I think about it.

To be clear, I have no intention of letting my daughter think that Noah Cyrus or whoever Disney tries to promote as the next tween sensation is a good role model, nor will I sit idly by if she tries to "become" her via hair, clothing, or whatever. I have full intentions of making her aware of the messages behind actions and appearance, and expect that her upbringing to that point will help her realize that these are messages she does not want to send out. However, no matter how hard I try, stuff like that will be part of the environment she grows up in, and will inevitably effect her on some level, and that concerns me.

What do you think about Noah Cyrus' "costume"? Am I overreacting, or is it just plain wrong like I suggest? Is there any hope for tomorrow's girls, save a convent?

Through

2009-10-28T06:15:00.002-04:00

I'm Not Sleeping - Counting Crows
My son turned one this month. In his first year of life, I believe the longest stretch of uninterrupted sleep he has experienced is five hours, and it is a rare occasion when such a length is achieved. The more common durations are three hours, often even less. (In the interest of full disclosure, I owe most of this knowledge to MTM, who gets up with him in the night to breastfeed.)

At four and a half, Munchkin is not what I would call a good sleeper. If I was trying to be positive, I would say decent, but I think she's a pretty bad sleeper. She doesn't sleep soundly (she's up at least one or two times a night) and has a particularly difficult time falling asleep, especially if she's woken up in the middle of the night. So, perhaps Buddy comes by his sleep habits genetically.

As a parent, sometimes it is easy to lose sight of when your baby isn't such a baby anymore. Buddy is mobile (he "cruises" - as in walks while holding on to something - right now) and is beginning to become verbal. He is not a baby, but is it only babies who don't sleep through the night? To be clear, I am not expecting him to sleep for 12 hours at a stretch (although that would be glorious), but I think that at 13 months going down at 7.00pm, waking for a "dream feed" around 11.00pm, and sleeping until 7.00am the following morning is a reasonable expectation.

I don't know what the cause of his poor sleep habits is. As I said above, part of it might be genetics, but I suspect other environmental factors are at play here.

One is the fact that he is breastfed, which could be problematic if MTM's milk supply is insufficient for him. (I have no idea if this is the case; doctors and other breastfeeding specialists say that they will nurse as long and as often as needed, but what if he's waking up so often because he's hungry due to getting "just enough" instead of "the amount he needs"?) Logically evolving from the above theory is that he is in the habit of waking for feeds throughout the night.

Another contributing factor is that both MTM and I ~~are big time sucks~~ can't let him "cry it out" (and, truth be told, I'm probably the bigger problem here than she is).

But is it really as simple as forcing him to learn how to fall asleep by himself via crying it out? At the age he's at, does he no longer need to be nursed in the night? Would switching him to whole milk and/or formula help?

What have your experiences been with sleep and one year olds? Did your kids naturally start sleeping through the night, or did you have to "encourage" them with crying it out or some other method? Did breastfeeding play a part in their sleep habits?

Limits

2009-10-27T06:15:00.001-04:00

Wasting My Time - Default
On Saturday night, a friend of MTM's from high school came over for dinner with her fiance. Munchkin has called her "Auntie" since she was old enough to talk. (Aside: she is the only relative - either by birth or marriage - who gets called "Auntie", and her fiance, who was her boyfriend up until a few months ago, has been "Uncle". Even my SIL's live-in boyfriend isn't "Uncle". Which brings me to a question: do you reserve the "Auntie" and "Uncle" monikers for family, or are some friends called that by your kids?)

Sensing ~~an opportunity~~ ~~a chance for something different~~ the fact that MTM's friend wanted to spend time with her, Munchkin asked her to give her a bath that night. "Auntie" readily agreed.

When MTM poked her head in to see how things were progressing, she saw "Auntie" getting ready to towel Munchkin - who was literally covered in suds - off. She stepped in and rinsed her (for several minutes) with the shower head to get off all the soap. After, MTM would learn that Munchkin told "Auntie" that sometimes she does her own soap (she does, but under strict regulation from one of us) and pumped ten times as much soap into her little hands as normal.

Later on, she asked "Auntie" to read her a story before bed. MTM said that there would only be one story because it was already late and Munchkin needed to sleep. After waiting downstairs for longer than was necessary for any story we owned, MTM went upstairs to find "Auntie" had been cajoled into a second book.

The next morning, MTM informed Munchkin that she knew that Munchkin was taking advantage of the fact that "Auntie" didn't know our routines and rules, and that "Auntie" was more likely to give in than Mommy or Daddy was. She went on to say that this was not OK, and that Munchkin needed to stop doing it.

(Another aside: what follows was shared with MTM prior to me posting this, but not in front of the kids.)

I totally disagree with MTM's philosophy. Her argument was that our kids will respect other people and not be spoiled. My perspective was that she was testing boundaries and enjoying a little extra attention from someone who doesn't deal with her day to day and would therefore have a lower tolerance for some of her childish nonsense (i.e. us, her parents). I likened it to being treated "special" when visiting grandparents: if Mommy says one story and "Grandma" reads two, what's the harm?

Yes, I get that others need to respect a child's parent and their rules, but ultimately the parents will parent their children, not the "Auntie" or "Grandma". If the kid gets a little "break" or some extra stories or play time in the tub, what's the long term harm? It's not like this person is becoming a primary caregiver (in which case, rules need to be enforced lest anarchy rule).

What do you think? Is it OK for others to do "extra" for your kids when they're in charge, or should they be as strict as you are as a parent? And, is there anything wrong with your kids "pushing the limits" with other short-term caregivers who don't mind the pushing?