My wife has been crying for a family holiday for a long time. It has been a source of much ill feeling that we havent been on a family holiday for ages. Last week from this writing, we finally got on a family week holiday. Holiday in the snow. Winter vacation.
Now I know why she wanted a family holiday.
It seems that I had to come along for the ride because a babysitter was needed.
To be fair to my wife, its my fault. Its only because I cant ski. I dont know what happened when I was a kid. I just didnt want to learn. My sister learned. She loved it. I could have learned. Just didnt. Just didnt want to. So thats what I get then when we go on vacation in ski paradise country. I have to take care of the littlest one. Baby sit.
Why does going to the foot of the mountain in my hobnailed boots with all the people coming down whoosh whoosh whoosh on their skis and Boards make me feel impotent? Any way I tried, there was no possibility I could get my ego up or try to think that I was cool or too cool for this skiing thing. Nope. Rather the word "loser" bounced around my head more than not. Why do males so often have to make comparisons to impotency when they cant do something? I dont know. I guess something about getting it up that is the essence of maledom and if you cant then... you aint. Kind of sad really. But its true, I was a limp ick every time I went to that ski hill.
My older daughter, this is her second year of skiing, and already she was going down the hill from the very top. Oh yes, the top of the hill rated "black" as in the most difficult, the deadliest. Shes five years old for crying out loud and here she is going down the death slopes.
It was unfair. My wife had a job that she really enjoyed. She was ski instructor. She couldnt get up to her own speed most of the time, but at least she was doing what she wanted to do. Me? Well, more pity for my little daughter, two and a half years at this writing who doesnt seem to be the great outdoors woman as of yet. She got on some skis, we tried to get her started. That lasted 20 minutes. I brought her sledding down a little hill. I at least love to sled. She enjoyed it for ... 15 minutes . Then again Im not sure she enjoyed it at all. So, poor girl. What her days consisted of were going to the slopes in the morning to watch her sister or Mommy for a while, then eating a snack with them and then crying terribly as I forced her to walk home with me, her impotent, non skiing Father, so she could take her afternoon nap. She cried hard the first day. Second day better, third day, still, but less. The sledding day even more. Then she would take her nap. I would watch the stocks or read. Then when she woke up we would trek back over to the slopes and bring Mommy and older sister home. Then dinner and some short evening playing.
I guess its rather good that two year olds dont need the entertainment of teenagers. I would have been the most hated person and the whole vacation would have been a bore. I remember when my older sister was bored on our vacation in Italy. She just stayed in the car. Just stayed in the car for crying out loud.. in Italy, in the mountains, on a lake!! She was a teenager. My two year old doesnt need so many distractions. In fact, all she wanted was to be with her Mommy. Which was mostly what she couldnt have. Because Mommy s job was ski instructor for her sibling. Hence, the hardcore crying.
I dont know why I complain, because being a father is by definition being partly a baby sitter. But that is not what i wanted on my vacation. Its what I got. Its OK, I realize you cant always do what you want when you are parent, in fact as a dedicated Father, you can do even less of what you want to do a lot of times. Didnt some rock singer write something of the sort in a song? "You cant always do what you want to do". Something of the sort. Anyway, I really dont mind. Im cool with it. But I dont like being impotent. That is taking it too far.
I was really looking forward to the sledding on this vacation. I didnt get it. Oh well, next time. No biggie. Pun intended. All in the days work of Home Daddy.
Cant wait for summer. I ll be swim instructor. Making sure her head doesnt go under water. Trying to get her to kick and stroke and worrying about her hating it all along. Ill be frantic and frustrated and, and Mommy will be...
uh... I guess taking a nap. That sounds good too. Uh, wait a sec. What
was I complaining about again?
Wednesday, February 26, 2014
Saturday, February 15, 2014
Day : Sickness
Now I know any Mothers who read this will say, `well big deal, thats happened to me... several times, maybe once a month circumstances similar. It happens, its life.` In other words, you wanna play the part, then get to know the show. And Dads who stay home with their kids more will say, `well, duh, of course`.
Im not asking for sympathy, not even empathy, all I will say is this is what happened to me. Im a Dad and I pulled it all off. OK, Im over dramatizing. It wasnt even a biggie. Lets get to it, it happened just this last week.
So its winter time and despite all the big bad snow and storms and coldest winter in two decades across the US, where I am at, we have a really mild winter. Kind of springish. Does that stop people from getting the flu and sicknesses? For some reason it does not. I dont understand it. You d think with a mild winter you d have less sickness, kind of like using less heating gas in a mild winter. Its not happening that way. Our family is on our third round of sicknesses as of this writing in February, and that seems to be par for the course for the past three years.
I started off this round with a painful painful sore throat one night. It was the kind which hurt to breathe. The pain was circular. The pain would flare up every ten seconds like a gas meter going around. That went to a cough and then a stuffed nose and combination thereof and then pretty much gone at the end of three weeks. My youngest daughter got it from me and she gets the coughing bad. You want dry? The desert doesnt get any dryer and she hacks like a seasoned smoker. It sounds terrible when you know its coming from a two year old. I feel helpless even sitting beside her. And its not like she wants to stay in bed. She wants to do all her regular stuff. Plus her older sister was sick home from school, so she wanted to play with her too, listen to the Beatles, run around the table, have Daddy do the metal monster and chase them. You really cant get kids to slow down, even for a sickness, unless it wipes them out. Then its real sad. It was about to get sad. Im sure you know all this already.
Since the night before, she had started to hold one ear. Now getting close to lunchtime she started complaining about a pain in her ear. She started to cry. I had been charged with getting a pizza today for lunch. The shop is just half way down the block. My older girl wanted to go with me so I couldnt leave the younger girl alone in the house. Pizza is a class act even with toddlers, but the youngest girl, she just did not want to go outside and started crying for her life about putting on her boots and coat. Back track. I cant take her out like this. Off with the coat and boots and then she voluntarily went to bed. I sat by her bed as she held her ear and cried hard. Finally I had to get the pizza delivered even from half a block which was a big heart breaker for my older girl who was all ready to go out and get the pizza with me. But now she was hungry so I had to get it. The younger girl was half sleeping, half set upon by pain in her ear. I think the pain was circular in her ear just like my gas meter and it came around pounding. She wasnt interested in the pizza when it came. Bad sign. I sat by the bed and tried to get her to blow her nose thinking if we got the mucous out it would relieve the pressure on her ear. I thought it was just a stuffed head problem. She finally fell asleep and I was able to eat my lunch and go to the bathroom.
But her pain woke her up. All I could do was try to quiet her down and hold her hand. It worked a bit, but like I said, I think the pain was circular and she would fall asleep for ten minutes and then wake up crying as the pain came around again. It was starting to break me. OK, I called our kids Doctor, but they were finishing for the day and said anyway, its an ear problem I would have to go to the ear doctor.
It was now after three pm and this had been going on for three hours and I knew that a bad cold can get into the ear and then it can be bad news and do damage. I wasnt panicking, but I felt I should do something more. So, I called up my wife who was doing research and told her the situation and she said she would run home and I should go to the ear doctor. The ear doctor closed at 4.00 today, but they were just a couple blocks away, I figured a twenty minute run. My wife made it home from the library by 4 and I was out of there with the little girl who I had had to wake up from a sleep she had finally achieved. I always hate to do that. But I thought I didnt want my girl going deaf as a result of my irresponsibility. I was riding like the witch from the East, she was the good witch wasnt she? Maybe West?
We live in the city so it is beautiful how close everything is. Man, you wouldnt believe that strollers can actually move pretty quickly. Im mowing down the blocks, I may be contradicting my earlier Post on the dangers of male testosterone in taking care of children, but maybe it came in handy this time. The fight or flight instinct had pumped so much adrenaline into my body I dont think even Usain Bolt could have gone faster. Course I mean relatively faster AND while pushing a stroller. Mr. Bolt, to the best of my knowledge, has never run a race pushing a stroller, so Im one up on him. Yeap, "in the 5 block running event while pushing a stroller, we have Maxddaddy...", its going to be an event in the 2025 Olympics.
The Mrs. Doctor said she would wait til 4.15 for me and I got to the door of where the doctor was at 4.20. Oh please please still be at work. Please please be there. What was the name of the doctor, I dont see it on the list of businesses in the building? Called them up and they were still there. But I was at the wrong house. Next one over. Agh. Foom. Please no damage to the ear. Why did I wait so long? Why am I so irresponsible? Oh Im a terrible parent. NOW I was panicking.
I couldnt believe how nice the Doctor was and her nurse too. But I was on Adrenaline OD and I wanted to cry when the Doctor told me that it wasnt bad at all, less than twenty per cent chance of the ear drum bursting and even that isnt a bad thing as then all the built pressure is released. Then it was just the usual, here is an order to get some ear drops and nose drops and you should give her this for kids to help her sleep in the night and if the drum breaks call me tomorrow or Friday and.... but the sound had stopped penetrating into my brain. My legs felt like Id been water skiing all day, like rubber or a slinky, whrehherhherh. And now I was overdosed, MY adrenaline had popped and I think it was running down my leg. Oh, or that was something else.
It seems I havent contradicted myself and testosterone is dangerous no matter what when combined with Fatherhood. If its not inciting you to violence or impatience then its exploding all over the place and giving you a sticky situation.
I pushed my little girl home in the stroller at the pace of a normal casual walk. I was whistling some tune. I asked her if her ear hurt, "No", she said. She seemed to be in a good mood now too. Good thing its Winter. There werent many people on the street. I was shaking my leg about trying to get the wind to dry my pants out before I got home. Its OK. Absolutely no problemo whatsoever. Everything is going to be all right.
Im not asking for sympathy, not even empathy, all I will say is this is what happened to me. Im a Dad and I pulled it all off. OK, Im over dramatizing. It wasnt even a biggie. Lets get to it, it happened just this last week.
So its winter time and despite all the big bad snow and storms and coldest winter in two decades across the US, where I am at, we have a really mild winter. Kind of springish. Does that stop people from getting the flu and sicknesses? For some reason it does not. I dont understand it. You d think with a mild winter you d have less sickness, kind of like using less heating gas in a mild winter. Its not happening that way. Our family is on our third round of sicknesses as of this writing in February, and that seems to be par for the course for the past three years.
I started off this round with a painful painful sore throat one night. It was the kind which hurt to breathe. The pain was circular. The pain would flare up every ten seconds like a gas meter going around. That went to a cough and then a stuffed nose and combination thereof and then pretty much gone at the end of three weeks. My youngest daughter got it from me and she gets the coughing bad. You want dry? The desert doesnt get any dryer and she hacks like a seasoned smoker. It sounds terrible when you know its coming from a two year old. I feel helpless even sitting beside her. And its not like she wants to stay in bed. She wants to do all her regular stuff. Plus her older sister was sick home from school, so she wanted to play with her too, listen to the Beatles, run around the table, have Daddy do the metal monster and chase them. You really cant get kids to slow down, even for a sickness, unless it wipes them out. Then its real sad. It was about to get sad. Im sure you know all this already.
Since the night before, she had started to hold one ear. Now getting close to lunchtime she started complaining about a pain in her ear. She started to cry. I had been charged with getting a pizza today for lunch. The shop is just half way down the block. My older girl wanted to go with me so I couldnt leave the younger girl alone in the house. Pizza is a class act even with toddlers, but the youngest girl, she just did not want to go outside and started crying for her life about putting on her boots and coat. Back track. I cant take her out like this. Off with the coat and boots and then she voluntarily went to bed. I sat by her bed as she held her ear and cried hard. Finally I had to get the pizza delivered even from half a block which was a big heart breaker for my older girl who was all ready to go out and get the pizza with me. But now she was hungry so I had to get it. The younger girl was half sleeping, half set upon by pain in her ear. I think the pain was circular in her ear just like my gas meter and it came around pounding. She wasnt interested in the pizza when it came. Bad sign. I sat by the bed and tried to get her to blow her nose thinking if we got the mucous out it would relieve the pressure on her ear. I thought it was just a stuffed head problem. She finally fell asleep and I was able to eat my lunch and go to the bathroom.
But her pain woke her up. All I could do was try to quiet her down and hold her hand. It worked a bit, but like I said, I think the pain was circular and she would fall asleep for ten minutes and then wake up crying as the pain came around again. It was starting to break me. OK, I called our kids Doctor, but they were finishing for the day and said anyway, its an ear problem I would have to go to the ear doctor.
It was now after three pm and this had been going on for three hours and I knew that a bad cold can get into the ear and then it can be bad news and do damage. I wasnt panicking, but I felt I should do something more. So, I called up my wife who was doing research and told her the situation and she said she would run home and I should go to the ear doctor. The ear doctor closed at 4.00 today, but they were just a couple blocks away, I figured a twenty minute run. My wife made it home from the library by 4 and I was out of there with the little girl who I had had to wake up from a sleep she had finally achieved. I always hate to do that. But I thought I didnt want my girl going deaf as a result of my irresponsibility. I was riding like the witch from the East, she was the good witch wasnt she? Maybe West?
We live in the city so it is beautiful how close everything is. Man, you wouldnt believe that strollers can actually move pretty quickly. Im mowing down the blocks, I may be contradicting my earlier Post on the dangers of male testosterone in taking care of children, but maybe it came in handy this time. The fight or flight instinct had pumped so much adrenaline into my body I dont think even Usain Bolt could have gone faster. Course I mean relatively faster AND while pushing a stroller. Mr. Bolt, to the best of my knowledge, has never run a race pushing a stroller, so Im one up on him. Yeap, "in the 5 block running event while pushing a stroller, we have Maxddaddy...", its going to be an event in the 2025 Olympics.
The Mrs. Doctor said she would wait til 4.15 for me and I got to the door of where the doctor was at 4.20. Oh please please still be at work. Please please be there. What was the name of the doctor, I dont see it on the list of businesses in the building? Called them up and they were still there. But I was at the wrong house. Next one over. Agh. Foom. Please no damage to the ear. Why did I wait so long? Why am I so irresponsible? Oh Im a terrible parent. NOW I was panicking.
I couldnt believe how nice the Doctor was and her nurse too. But I was on Adrenaline OD and I wanted to cry when the Doctor told me that it wasnt bad at all, less than twenty per cent chance of the ear drum bursting and even that isnt a bad thing as then all the built pressure is released. Then it was just the usual, here is an order to get some ear drops and nose drops and you should give her this for kids to help her sleep in the night and if the drum breaks call me tomorrow or Friday and.... but the sound had stopped penetrating into my brain. My legs felt like Id been water skiing all day, like rubber or a slinky, whrehherhherh. And now I was overdosed, MY adrenaline had popped and I think it was running down my leg. Oh, or that was something else.
It seems I havent contradicted myself and testosterone is dangerous no matter what when combined with Fatherhood. If its not inciting you to violence or impatience then its exploding all over the place and giving you a sticky situation.
I pushed my little girl home in the stroller at the pace of a normal casual walk. I was whistling some tune. I asked her if her ear hurt, "No", she said. She seemed to be in a good mood now too. Good thing its Winter. There werent many people on the street. I was shaking my leg about trying to get the wind to dry my pants out before I got home. Its OK. Absolutely no problemo whatsoever. Everything is going to be all right.
Sunday, February 9, 2014
First Impatience : Food part 2
Just when you thought it was fine to have children and they werent really a problem, the second child is born.
Its just my theory that God or the Forces of Nature always give you an "easy" first child. This helps carry on the species. "Hey, this isnt so bad. I can do this, I can handle this, kids are great". You have a second child. It ensures the species will survive because you know, one child is negative population growth and the one child might be lost along the way toward adulthood. Two kids means the survival of the species. It helps the family and traditions survive also. But. You age ten years before the second child reaches 3 years. It puts a severe strain on your marriage. Everything is on the verge of breaking apart. In other words the second child is somehow part product of the Devil. 4 out of 5 times I can tell you this is how it works. The second child must be some sort of test prepared for you by God or the Forces of Nature. They could make it into a survival reality show. If you still have all your hair intact and with limited grey by their fifth birthday you win a prize. The prize is called "OK, you can breathe freely again. At least until they are a teenager".
My second daughter is under three right now at the time of this writing. I have trouble breathing freely. The Doctor said on our last visit that if she doesnt gain two more pounds by her next visit three months hence, we have to find some other method to get her nourished properly and growing. You would think that is nothing, two pounds, easy. Folks, lemme tell you every ounce of that growth is going to be like 3rd down and 9 yards to go.
You know, every problem your children have reflects back on you as a BAD PARENT. She doesnt want to eat. She eats bad things only. Shes hyper. YOUR FAULT. I guess its true except that I really had no control over which DNA got accepted and ravelled up in her chromosomes and which didnt. Its a poor excuse. I have to take responsibility for every action since her coming into this world.
But try as I might none of the usual food games work on this girl. Helicopters, the boat, the car driving into the garage, her mouth is sealed shut. My wife has gotten the "OK, eat one bite for grandma, one bite for grandpa," routine to work, but it works for five spoonfuls. We have a lot more relatives and a lot more food than that. And if she eats one meal one day, she is not going to eat the same food the next day. Except for eggs. She wants an egg, two eggs every day. I limit her to one. That will keep her weight from going negative, but not really growing. One boiled egg a day doesnt cut it. My wife racks her brain every day about what will she eat the next day? No, not that, its green. Well if you make the soup either mixed up with the blender or with no carrots it might work. She doesnt like red, she doesnt go for the spaghetti with bolognese sauce. That makes me wonder if she has any of my food DNA at all. Spaghetti and any food red is my lifeblood. Doesnt eat any vegetables or fruits. She doesnt like ketchup for the love of Mary. She likes the juice from the grapefruit and we get some vitamin C into her by squeezing fresh lemon into her tea. She eats fewer items than my older daughter did at this age and I counted those on the fingers of both hands. This girl... chicken, fish, plain spaghetti and potatoes. Can you see where this is heading? Frustration and "its all your fault". They will take her away from us because she is malnourished. They ll put her to a hospital where she will be fed intravenously and we the parents wont be allowed to come near her. My wife will blame me. I was irresponsible. We break up. The children grow up in a broken home which leads to drugs, delinquency and teen pregnancy. It sounds like a bad acid trip.
I scream at her, "the devil is going to come and take you away if you wont eat. I hear him outside our door now." She started to cry and ate her boiled potatoes. "Small one daddy", meaning she will take a small bite. "OK," I agree, "small one." She ate 3 small boiled potatoes after her boiled egg and that was her lunch. I hugged her for joy. "Lets take a nap now" and I held her hand lying on the rug beside her bed. She fell asleep peacefully. I took a ten minute cat nap. My strength came back and my frustration disappeared. All is well in the world and at least my daughter wont become a dropout, delinquent, assuming she eats her dinner tonight and the next and the next night after that. I might suggest we just give her the bio hot dogs for dinner so I can get through one more day without the total threat of disaster and disintegration and blood on my hands.
Its just my theory that God or the Forces of Nature always give you an "easy" first child. This helps carry on the species. "Hey, this isnt so bad. I can do this, I can handle this, kids are great". You have a second child. It ensures the species will survive because you know, one child is negative population growth and the one child might be lost along the way toward adulthood. Two kids means the survival of the species. It helps the family and traditions survive also. But. You age ten years before the second child reaches 3 years. It puts a severe strain on your marriage. Everything is on the verge of breaking apart. In other words the second child is somehow part product of the Devil. 4 out of 5 times I can tell you this is how it works. The second child must be some sort of test prepared for you by God or the Forces of Nature. They could make it into a survival reality show. If you still have all your hair intact and with limited grey by their fifth birthday you win a prize. The prize is called "OK, you can breathe freely again. At least until they are a teenager".
My second daughter is under three right now at the time of this writing. I have trouble breathing freely. The Doctor said on our last visit that if she doesnt gain two more pounds by her next visit three months hence, we have to find some other method to get her nourished properly and growing. You would think that is nothing, two pounds, easy. Folks, lemme tell you every ounce of that growth is going to be like 3rd down and 9 yards to go.
You know, every problem your children have reflects back on you as a BAD PARENT. She doesnt want to eat. She eats bad things only. Shes hyper. YOUR FAULT. I guess its true except that I really had no control over which DNA got accepted and ravelled up in her chromosomes and which didnt. Its a poor excuse. I have to take responsibility for every action since her coming into this world.
But try as I might none of the usual food games work on this girl. Helicopters, the boat, the car driving into the garage, her mouth is sealed shut. My wife has gotten the "OK, eat one bite for grandma, one bite for grandpa," routine to work, but it works for five spoonfuls. We have a lot more relatives and a lot more food than that. And if she eats one meal one day, she is not going to eat the same food the next day. Except for eggs. She wants an egg, two eggs every day. I limit her to one. That will keep her weight from going negative, but not really growing. One boiled egg a day doesnt cut it. My wife racks her brain every day about what will she eat the next day? No, not that, its green. Well if you make the soup either mixed up with the blender or with no carrots it might work. She doesnt like red, she doesnt go for the spaghetti with bolognese sauce. That makes me wonder if she has any of my food DNA at all. Spaghetti and any food red is my lifeblood. Doesnt eat any vegetables or fruits. She doesnt like ketchup for the love of Mary. She likes the juice from the grapefruit and we get some vitamin C into her by squeezing fresh lemon into her tea. She eats fewer items than my older daughter did at this age and I counted those on the fingers of both hands. This girl... chicken, fish, plain spaghetti and potatoes. Can you see where this is heading? Frustration and "its all your fault". They will take her away from us because she is malnourished. They ll put her to a hospital where she will be fed intravenously and we the parents wont be allowed to come near her. My wife will blame me. I was irresponsible. We break up. The children grow up in a broken home which leads to drugs, delinquency and teen pregnancy. It sounds like a bad acid trip.
I scream at her, "the devil is going to come and take you away if you wont eat. I hear him outside our door now." She started to cry and ate her boiled potatoes. "Small one daddy", meaning she will take a small bite. "OK," I agree, "small one." She ate 3 small boiled potatoes after her boiled egg and that was her lunch. I hugged her for joy. "Lets take a nap now" and I held her hand lying on the rug beside her bed. She fell asleep peacefully. I took a ten minute cat nap. My strength came back and my frustration disappeared. All is well in the world and at least my daughter wont become a dropout, delinquent, assuming she eats her dinner tonight and the next and the next night after that. I might suggest we just give her the bio hot dogs for dinner so I can get through one more day without the total threat of disaster and disintegration and blood on my hands.
Sunday, February 2, 2014
Division of Labor
Once again this morning I am reminded that two parents are better than one. For everyone.
Here I am on Sunday still getting over the flu, better wash your hands after you finish reading this, dont want to spread any cyber germs to you. If I hadnt had my wife here I would be worse for it by now because I would have had to get up and deal with two kids and brunch on a Sunday. As it was, I didnt. Ha ha. I slept till 11am.
My wife made a nice porridge brunch and the kids took a small nap by 12.30. Then she proceeded to take a small nap.
The division of labor no longer has to mean woman stays at home and takes care of the kids and man goes to work and makes the money. Unfortunately that is still the basic formula. I for one feel this division to be sad and not helpful. I recently read a parents article where the father in fact was complaining that he felt like the piece of meat, that he had to be the one away from the home all the time and his wife got the good part of staying at home with and for the kids. He felt like a third wheel, a slave even, or that he was being used. Well, maybe I am interpreting it too much, and I cant even post the article here as Ive forgotten where it is. I ll still try to find it. But you see the point? He wanted to stay at home and be with his kids. Why should the women get all the glory and love of the family? And then you are so tired from the week that you just want to rest anyway on the weekend.
I know that on the days I am working and I come home close to their bedtime I dont get the recognition that Mommy gets. They still want Mommy to give them the bath, they still want Mommy to read them a story before sleep. And on the days I AM at home and Mommy is out for the day, well then I get the rewards in the night with total loving from my kids. I get to read them a bedtime story. And nighttime, bedtime is my favorite time of day and those rewards mean a lot to me.
The division of labor should mean: you do some things and I do some things. Simple as that. Fifty fifty. Well OK, you can assign things to each other that one person does better than the other, IE, my wife is an excellent cook so she should do more of the meals. I concede. I sing better so I will play the music and sing with them more. Ha ha.
OK, actually I have a more formidable job that seems to be assigned to me. My wife sleeps like the dead in their graves. I take the keys out of the door at night because she wouldnt hear someone breaking the glass and reaching in and opening the door via the keys in the lock. She wouldnt. And she doesnt hear the girls crying in the night or calling. I sleep like a deer surrounded by fox and wolves. I am always ready to jump. Two years ago when my oldest daughter was just three and we were on vacation at Grandmas I was on duty 24-7. My daughter had never slept in a regular bed before and she was falling out nightly. I put pads on the floor, but then I started waking up every time she moved in her sleep. I would jump up over to her bed to make sure she wasnt rolling over the side.
The other week this is what happened. My oldest daughter, now over five at the time of writing had a nightmare. She takes after both her Mommy and Daddy. She sleeps like wood like her Mother but she has clear dreams like her Father. So she woke up and I heard her in the hallway. I went out and she had taken all her blankets to the hallway and said they were wet. She doesnt pee her bed anymore, so I was confused. I felt them, they werent wet. I guess it had been some sort of pee dream or water dream though. I took her and her blankets back to bed. By this time she was more awake and she said, "Daddy stay here please". So I did. I held her hand while she fell back to sleep. Looked at my watch when I got back to bed, 2.50 am. I think the whole process had been half an hour or more. Fell back asleep and myself had some dreams about people partying or something. It was quite a noisy sleep. I think it would have been more relaxing if I hadnt slept. Then no party in my head.
5am: "Daddy, Daddy, hand, hand". My littlest girl has to hold my hand before she sleeps and she has been waking up between 4.30 and 5 and calls me. She calls Daddy because I think she knows she would get no response from Mommy, even if she shouted. Which she does and she doesnt get a response from Mommy. I let her call three times to make sure she hadnt fallen back asleep on her own. Nope. So, I went over and lay on the rug next to her bed and held her hand. I tried to get away and went to the bathroom, but she wasnt fully asleep, "Daddy, Daddy! Hand!" Back to my duties. It took her about an hour to fall asleep. So then I was able to get another hour of sleep myself till 7.30. Im a late night owl and dont go to bed before midnight myself, so all told I got 4 hours of sleep. Needless to say I was a zombie in the morning. But division of labor has my wife picking out the older girls clothes and helping her with them. Ahhh, i was able to lie there at least till 8 or 8.30. So it was 5 hours of sleep. Doable.
Two parents are better than one. Divide your labor however you want to do it. Either according to the principles of David Ricardo or to the principles of who sleeps better at night or who bastes a better chicken. I dont think these days we have to be or should be confined to the old "Leave it to Beaver" model of Mom and Dad.
OK, go wash your hands, Im still sick. But dont be too loud in the bathroom my wife is taking a nap.
Here I am on Sunday still getting over the flu, better wash your hands after you finish reading this, dont want to spread any cyber germs to you. If I hadnt had my wife here I would be worse for it by now because I would have had to get up and deal with two kids and brunch on a Sunday. As it was, I didnt. Ha ha. I slept till 11am.
My wife made a nice porridge brunch and the kids took a small nap by 12.30. Then she proceeded to take a small nap.
The division of labor no longer has to mean woman stays at home and takes care of the kids and man goes to work and makes the money. Unfortunately that is still the basic formula. I for one feel this division to be sad and not helpful. I recently read a parents article where the father in fact was complaining that he felt like the piece of meat, that he had to be the one away from the home all the time and his wife got the good part of staying at home with and for the kids. He felt like a third wheel, a slave even, or that he was being used. Well, maybe I am interpreting it too much, and I cant even post the article here as Ive forgotten where it is. I ll still try to find it. But you see the point? He wanted to stay at home and be with his kids. Why should the women get all the glory and love of the family? And then you are so tired from the week that you just want to rest anyway on the weekend.
I know that on the days I am working and I come home close to their bedtime I dont get the recognition that Mommy gets. They still want Mommy to give them the bath, they still want Mommy to read them a story before sleep. And on the days I AM at home and Mommy is out for the day, well then I get the rewards in the night with total loving from my kids. I get to read them a bedtime story. And nighttime, bedtime is my favorite time of day and those rewards mean a lot to me.
The division of labor should mean: you do some things and I do some things. Simple as that. Fifty fifty. Well OK, you can assign things to each other that one person does better than the other, IE, my wife is an excellent cook so she should do more of the meals. I concede. I sing better so I will play the music and sing with them more. Ha ha.
OK, actually I have a more formidable job that seems to be assigned to me. My wife sleeps like the dead in their graves. I take the keys out of the door at night because she wouldnt hear someone breaking the glass and reaching in and opening the door via the keys in the lock. She wouldnt. And she doesnt hear the girls crying in the night or calling. I sleep like a deer surrounded by fox and wolves. I am always ready to jump. Two years ago when my oldest daughter was just three and we were on vacation at Grandmas I was on duty 24-7. My daughter had never slept in a regular bed before and she was falling out nightly. I put pads on the floor, but then I started waking up every time she moved in her sleep. I would jump up over to her bed to make sure she wasnt rolling over the side.
The other week this is what happened. My oldest daughter, now over five at the time of writing had a nightmare. She takes after both her Mommy and Daddy. She sleeps like wood like her Mother but she has clear dreams like her Father. So she woke up and I heard her in the hallway. I went out and she had taken all her blankets to the hallway and said they were wet. She doesnt pee her bed anymore, so I was confused. I felt them, they werent wet. I guess it had been some sort of pee dream or water dream though. I took her and her blankets back to bed. By this time she was more awake and she said, "Daddy stay here please". So I did. I held her hand while she fell back to sleep. Looked at my watch when I got back to bed, 2.50 am. I think the whole process had been half an hour or more. Fell back asleep and myself had some dreams about people partying or something. It was quite a noisy sleep. I think it would have been more relaxing if I hadnt slept. Then no party in my head.
5am: "Daddy, Daddy, hand, hand". My littlest girl has to hold my hand before she sleeps and she has been waking up between 4.30 and 5 and calls me. She calls Daddy because I think she knows she would get no response from Mommy, even if she shouted. Which she does and she doesnt get a response from Mommy. I let her call three times to make sure she hadnt fallen back asleep on her own. Nope. So, I went over and lay on the rug next to her bed and held her hand. I tried to get away and went to the bathroom, but she wasnt fully asleep, "Daddy, Daddy! Hand!" Back to my duties. It took her about an hour to fall asleep. So then I was able to get another hour of sleep myself till 7.30. Im a late night owl and dont go to bed before midnight myself, so all told I got 4 hours of sleep. Needless to say I was a zombie in the morning. But division of labor has my wife picking out the older girls clothes and helping her with them. Ahhh, i was able to lie there at least till 8 or 8.30. So it was 5 hours of sleep. Doable.
Two parents are better than one. Divide your labor however you want to do it. Either according to the principles of David Ricardo or to the principles of who sleeps better at night or who bastes a better chicken. I dont think these days we have to be or should be confined to the old "Leave it to Beaver" model of Mom and Dad.
OK, go wash your hands, Im still sick. But dont be too loud in the bathroom my wife is taking a nap.
Thursday, January 23, 2014
First Impatience: Food
My first daughter, in retrospect was wonderful. She used to sit in her high chair for lunch and EAT lunch. She would stay in her high chair even after she was done because I thought she should relax after lunch, take it easy while she digested. She did. I read her books. She was under two. I remember those days happily.
Until she was nearly two she had allowed a wide array of foods to pass into her gullet. She was eating vegetables in those days, I remember zucchini and even yellow squash. Imagine.
That all changed when she hit two, though not so drastically. When she did move out of the high chair into the regular chair after her second birthday, suddenly her tastes in food, well narrowed and dried up, so to speak. But she was still OK. That is when the creativity in feeding had to be used. I am grateful she laughs at my jokes to this day (my cousin with teenagers says, flatly, that will change). I had no trouble sending the helicopter with spaghetti or mashed chicken and vegetables into the landing pad in her mouth. She loved my scenarios and the food made it down her throat, that was the important part. Although, definitely, as I said, the numbered palatable interests narrowed. No more vegetables, at least food that was visibly vegetable. Fruits even were tough.
This proceeded to last for at least two years, and may still be taking place. Listen, when we were on vacation for a couple weeks before her fourth birthday, at her Grandmothers, my Mother, the situation became comically desperate. I still can list the foods she ate: omelette's, chicken, breakfast cereal, milk, juice (well we have to count them), her morning and evening porridge, spaghetti without meatballs or cheese just sauce, some soups, spaghettios but only the ones with spaghetti. I served her spaghettios one day. Out of desperation I served her spaghettios with meatballs the next day. She cried when I presented them to her and said "Daddy I dont want this". I said, "What what? You ate it yesterday. Whats the problem?" I couldnt understand through her crying, but eventually it came out that this helping had some big brown lumps in them and they did not please her at all. All explanations of the deliciosity and juiciness of meatballs in spaghetti were not worth the breath I breathed. I tried to push the meatballs to one side. More crying. I ended up picking out every meatball from the bowl and still she was suspicious.
See, this is where the women's patience kicks in but the males impatience goes crazy. I absolutely think it has something to do with the evolutionary "fight or flight" survival technique. I dont think fight or flight is an issue or exists for women. Does it? They would just pick up their kids, hold them tight to themselves and get out of the situation. Men, the blood starts boiling up, or literally you start to feel this "kicking in", which I will put forth is the adrenaline picking up and everything readying yourself for a battle. It has to be discharged. It doesnt dissipate. At best it is released by a good yelling at the child. (You better eat those meatballs, they are good for you.) Not very helpful, but not the worst. I dont want to talk about the worst, it makes me sad, but it has happened, not with me of course. But in fact the battle that men have to overcome and fight is in fact the very idea that they think there is a battle. The adrenaline has to be battled. The urge to fight has to be discharged peacefully. That is the real battle and issue for men. Or used to comic effect, this is when Homer Simpson puts his hands around his sons neck and says, "Bart, why you, Im going to..."
I left out one food item she also ate. Ketchup. She takes after me.... um to a degree. We served her an omelet or sunny side up in the morning... with ketchup. That's OK. The chicken meal in the evening was not so outrageous with a dousing of ketchup on the meat. I had to carefully pour the ketchup over the chicken pieces in an exact pattern of some sort. "Like this?" "Yes" "Here?" "Yes". "On this one?" "No, Daddy daddy, no not that one". The Europeans put ketchup on pizza and spaghetti, so that was acceptable too. Ketchup in the soups, wellllll, OK, mix it in. "Spaghettios already have ketchup my child, you really dont need to pour ketchup into the spaghettios. Oh, OK, a little will be OK. Go ahead."
One morning she demanded that I pour ketchup on her 100 per cent four grains breakfast cereal. That's where the buck stopped and my patience ran out. "Sweetie, we just dont put ketchup on breakfast cereal, it, well, its just not done. I m not really sure why not, but, NO, i wont do it"
"Daddy, I want ketchup on it, I want ketchup on it". "This is just too crazy. I ll get kicked out of society or something. If people find out about this, no, I really cant do this. Dont ask me to do this. I cant do this. I just cant. Please please please, pulease, DONT demand that I put ketchup on your breakfast cereal"
For some reason, I felt that feeling. The adrenaline picked up. I was getting extremely angry and I was donning my military gear for all out "me vs you" battle. That feeling is just so, so, its like a negative orgasm, if I can be a little crude. Its not going out with a sigh of relief, its staying in and corrupting your whole system and to repeat myself a little and coining a new word, "negatizing" you. Whats the opposite of dopamine and "feel good" natural chemicals in your body? That's what IT is. That is the impatience. "YOU DONT PUT KETCHUP ON YOUR BREAKFAST CEREAL, little girl"
What would you have done? Mrs Mother?
Next morning: "Sweetie do you want ketchup on your breakfast cereal again today?" "No, it wasnt so good yesterday with the ketchup. I want a egg. With ketchup"
An End note. On the flight back home from that vacation, of course the plane got diverted and we had to spend a day in JFK (that is another story, whoa Nelly) We got food coupons, but I was at a loss of what to get my daughter for lunch. Well, lets go with the breaded chicken with baked potatoes. OK. Fine. "Daddy, put on the ketchup". I shook it, it was a big plastic bottle with a squirt cap opening. The ketchup went SPURT, not in a nice design on the chicken but in a big heap on one side of the chicken. I was laughing my head off, it had just been a big, funny "SPURT". She was crying very loudly, it had scared her and it was a bad design on the chicken. She wouldnt eat the chicken, she only ate the baked potatoes. I was laughing, she was crying through the whole meal. The other patrons came over and pinned me with the "worst Father of the year" award.
Yep. Well.
Until she was nearly two she had allowed a wide array of foods to pass into her gullet. She was eating vegetables in those days, I remember zucchini and even yellow squash. Imagine.
That all changed when she hit two, though not so drastically. When she did move out of the high chair into the regular chair after her second birthday, suddenly her tastes in food, well narrowed and dried up, so to speak. But she was still OK. That is when the creativity in feeding had to be used. I am grateful she laughs at my jokes to this day (my cousin with teenagers says, flatly, that will change). I had no trouble sending the helicopter with spaghetti or mashed chicken and vegetables into the landing pad in her mouth. She loved my scenarios and the food made it down her throat, that was the important part. Although, definitely, as I said, the numbered palatable interests narrowed. No more vegetables, at least food that was visibly vegetable. Fruits even were tough.
This proceeded to last for at least two years, and may still be taking place. Listen, when we were on vacation for a couple weeks before her fourth birthday, at her Grandmothers, my Mother, the situation became comically desperate. I still can list the foods she ate: omelette's, chicken, breakfast cereal, milk, juice (well we have to count them), her morning and evening porridge, spaghetti without meatballs or cheese just sauce, some soups, spaghettios but only the ones with spaghetti. I served her spaghettios one day. Out of desperation I served her spaghettios with meatballs the next day. She cried when I presented them to her and said "Daddy I dont want this". I said, "What what? You ate it yesterday. Whats the problem?" I couldnt understand through her crying, but eventually it came out that this helping had some big brown lumps in them and they did not please her at all. All explanations of the deliciosity and juiciness of meatballs in spaghetti were not worth the breath I breathed. I tried to push the meatballs to one side. More crying. I ended up picking out every meatball from the bowl and still she was suspicious.
See, this is where the women's patience kicks in but the males impatience goes crazy. I absolutely think it has something to do with the evolutionary "fight or flight" survival technique. I dont think fight or flight is an issue or exists for women. Does it? They would just pick up their kids, hold them tight to themselves and get out of the situation. Men, the blood starts boiling up, or literally you start to feel this "kicking in", which I will put forth is the adrenaline picking up and everything readying yourself for a battle. It has to be discharged. It doesnt dissipate. At best it is released by a good yelling at the child. (You better eat those meatballs, they are good for you.) Not very helpful, but not the worst. I dont want to talk about the worst, it makes me sad, but it has happened, not with me of course. But in fact the battle that men have to overcome and fight is in fact the very idea that they think there is a battle. The adrenaline has to be battled. The urge to fight has to be discharged peacefully. That is the real battle and issue for men. Or used to comic effect, this is when Homer Simpson puts his hands around his sons neck and says, "Bart, why you, Im going to..."
I left out one food item she also ate. Ketchup. She takes after me.... um to a degree. We served her an omelet or sunny side up in the morning... with ketchup. That's OK. The chicken meal in the evening was not so outrageous with a dousing of ketchup on the meat. I had to carefully pour the ketchup over the chicken pieces in an exact pattern of some sort. "Like this?" "Yes" "Here?" "Yes". "On this one?" "No, Daddy daddy, no not that one". The Europeans put ketchup on pizza and spaghetti, so that was acceptable too. Ketchup in the soups, wellllll, OK, mix it in. "Spaghettios already have ketchup my child, you really dont need to pour ketchup into the spaghettios. Oh, OK, a little will be OK. Go ahead."
One morning she demanded that I pour ketchup on her 100 per cent four grains breakfast cereal. That's where the buck stopped and my patience ran out. "Sweetie, we just dont put ketchup on breakfast cereal, it, well, its just not done. I m not really sure why not, but, NO, i wont do it"
"Daddy, I want ketchup on it, I want ketchup on it". "This is just too crazy. I ll get kicked out of society or something. If people find out about this, no, I really cant do this. Dont ask me to do this. I cant do this. I just cant. Please please please, pulease, DONT demand that I put ketchup on your breakfast cereal"
For some reason, I felt that feeling. The adrenaline picked up. I was getting extremely angry and I was donning my military gear for all out "me vs you" battle. That feeling is just so, so, its like a negative orgasm, if I can be a little crude. Its not going out with a sigh of relief, its staying in and corrupting your whole system and to repeat myself a little and coining a new word, "negatizing" you. Whats the opposite of dopamine and "feel good" natural chemicals in your body? That's what IT is. That is the impatience. "YOU DONT PUT KETCHUP ON YOUR BREAKFAST CEREAL, little girl"
What would you have done? Mrs Mother?
Next morning: "Sweetie do you want ketchup on your breakfast cereal again today?" "No, it wasnt so good yesterday with the ketchup. I want a egg. With ketchup"
An End note. On the flight back home from that vacation, of course the plane got diverted and we had to spend a day in JFK (that is another story, whoa Nelly) We got food coupons, but I was at a loss of what to get my daughter for lunch. Well, lets go with the breaded chicken with baked potatoes. OK. Fine. "Daddy, put on the ketchup". I shook it, it was a big plastic bottle with a squirt cap opening. The ketchup went SPURT, not in a nice design on the chicken but in a big heap on one side of the chicken. I was laughing my head off, it had just been a big, funny "SPURT". She was crying very loudly, it had scared her and it was a bad design on the chicken. She wouldnt eat the chicken, she only ate the baked potatoes. I was laughing, she was crying through the whole meal. The other patrons came over and pinned me with the "worst Father of the year" award.
Yep. Well.
Friday, January 3, 2014
Intermission: Dinosaurs 1
This is not a movie review. You can go see what you like. Take your kids to what you think is best or what they want. I have few qualms about it. However, I will say that for anyone, any age, the more the movie turns you on and inspires you the better it is. Isnt that so?
I brought my older girl to see the movie Walking with Dinosaurs the other day from this writing. I thought it would be an animated documentary about dinosaurs. Or at least a half documentary with some sort of story to go with the documentary. Not so.
It wasnt a documentary at all. As a result, me personally, I was sorely disappointed and gave my wife the "eh eh, OK, but not really" hand signal when she asked how the movie was. Such a cornball story. A dinosaur love story. Phhhh, yeah, insert sarcastic remarks of any sort here. Why do all the animations have to have some "right dude" "dude, go for it, that's the ticket, dude" type of voice in their movies, for the main part or supporting actors now? What audience are they shooting for? I dont think under ten girls OR boys really get the "dude" hipster act. What happened to using Woody Allen s voice as the hero? Brilliant. Why didnt more animation movies use that scenario? After all, I think Woody Allen's voice is closer in tone and timbre to little kids voices. Or they can get a handle on it much more than a deep voice or a "dude" voice for that matter.
OK, enough dudes. So you get it, I didnt care for it. And I do love animation movies and kids movies too. Come to think of it, are there any animated documentaries? Now that would be a great category, a new direction to go forward in.
I couldnt gauge my daughters approval or lack therof on the way home. "Daddy buy me a potato chips"... didnt convey to me thumbs up or thumbs down. If there was some hidden message in those words, I failed to catch it.
However, that evening she started crying before bed because she wanted to pet the dinosaur with a hole in its head (the hero dinosaur loses a chunk of his head plate, triceratops, when he is a toddler dino). OK, she was a bit tired and you know what happens when kids are tired before bed, but this comment baffled me. It didnt help to explain that it was a movie character and she couldnt pet that dinosaur. I think she knew that and it was just the tiredness talking, but still, she wouldnt stop crying about it.
And then the next day she demanded we read her new dinosaur book. She got a number of books for Christmas and one was a second hand old book with great pictures of dinosaurs. In fact way back in time it was quite a best seller because of the pictures. Unfortunately this wasnt a translated book and the captions were in Finnish which is not a language I can decipher well.
Since then we have gone through that book three times and my Finnish is progressing and weve both learned quite a bit and my wife got another book on dinosaurs. This time the book is in her language and pop up. And there doesnt seem to be an end in sight in the interest in dinosaurs.
So get this, some of the things we have touched upon reading the two dino books: The dinosaurs were around approx from 235 to 65 million years ago, which brings in the concept of the age of the earth, that the dinosaurs lived during the time when all land was together till the continents slowly drifted apart, plate tectonics, and when the dinosaurs died out, either due to cooling temperatures or a huge asteroid hitting the earth with the subsequent rise of mammals, the concepts of global climate and evolution. Incredible. And for a five year old. She got inspired. I got inspired. I am quite happy with the results.
So, I totally missed the boat on the dinosaur movie. I obviously didnt get it. But she got it, and it was a force of inspiration. To be fair, or rather unfair to the movie, maybe it wasnt the movie but just a natural gravitation by many kids to dinosaurs. What under tenner doesnt or didnt have an interest in dinosaurs? Well my wife didnt but,... mmm, I wont continue. So I guess this dinosaur movie can free the latent love of dinosaurs that every kid has locked inside. That's worth a lot. You can learn a lot reading about the dinosaurs.
Now compare that with the Smurfs II movie my wife brought her to see a couple months before. Well, admittedly my daughter did want to read her book about Paris, the movie takes place in Paris, but it didnt overwhelm her. She knows a bit about Paris now, I think, maybe. Oh and that the Eiffel tow... no, I dont think she remembers that.
So I have to change my opinion about this dinosaur movie and give it a thumbs up, or at least say, it WAS an OK movie DUDE. Luckily my daughter realized that and got psyched. I would have totally missed the educational opportunities from this movie if she hadnt cried to pet the dinosaur with a hole in his head.
End note: Im still in awe of the fact that dinosaurs existed for about 170 million years. We tend to think of them as a loser species because, well they became extinct. But consider that humans have a three million year history since they came down from trees, six million if you want to stretch it to include some sort of ape human transitional period. 6 million.... 170 million, what a piffle species humans are. Not to mention that humans ll be lucky if they last for another 100 years let alone another 164 million.
I brought my older girl to see the movie Walking with Dinosaurs the other day from this writing. I thought it would be an animated documentary about dinosaurs. Or at least a half documentary with some sort of story to go with the documentary. Not so.
It wasnt a documentary at all. As a result, me personally, I was sorely disappointed and gave my wife the "eh eh, OK, but not really" hand signal when she asked how the movie was. Such a cornball story. A dinosaur love story. Phhhh, yeah, insert sarcastic remarks of any sort here. Why do all the animations have to have some "right dude" "dude, go for it, that's the ticket, dude" type of voice in their movies, for the main part or supporting actors now? What audience are they shooting for? I dont think under ten girls OR boys really get the "dude" hipster act. What happened to using Woody Allen s voice as the hero? Brilliant. Why didnt more animation movies use that scenario? After all, I think Woody Allen's voice is closer in tone and timbre to little kids voices. Or they can get a handle on it much more than a deep voice or a "dude" voice for that matter.
OK, enough dudes. So you get it, I didnt care for it. And I do love animation movies and kids movies too. Come to think of it, are there any animated documentaries? Now that would be a great category, a new direction to go forward in.
I couldnt gauge my daughters approval or lack therof on the way home. "Daddy buy me a potato chips"... didnt convey to me thumbs up or thumbs down. If there was some hidden message in those words, I failed to catch it.
However, that evening she started crying before bed because she wanted to pet the dinosaur with a hole in its head (the hero dinosaur loses a chunk of his head plate, triceratops, when he is a toddler dino). OK, she was a bit tired and you know what happens when kids are tired before bed, but this comment baffled me. It didnt help to explain that it was a movie character and she couldnt pet that dinosaur. I think she knew that and it was just the tiredness talking, but still, she wouldnt stop crying about it.
And then the next day she demanded we read her new dinosaur book. She got a number of books for Christmas and one was a second hand old book with great pictures of dinosaurs. In fact way back in time it was quite a best seller because of the pictures. Unfortunately this wasnt a translated book and the captions were in Finnish which is not a language I can decipher well.
Since then we have gone through that book three times and my Finnish is progressing and weve both learned quite a bit and my wife got another book on dinosaurs. This time the book is in her language and pop up. And there doesnt seem to be an end in sight in the interest in dinosaurs.
So get this, some of the things we have touched upon reading the two dino books: The dinosaurs were around approx from 235 to 65 million years ago, which brings in the concept of the age of the earth, that the dinosaurs lived during the time when all land was together till the continents slowly drifted apart, plate tectonics, and when the dinosaurs died out, either due to cooling temperatures or a huge asteroid hitting the earth with the subsequent rise of mammals, the concepts of global climate and evolution. Incredible. And for a five year old. She got inspired. I got inspired. I am quite happy with the results.
So, I totally missed the boat on the dinosaur movie. I obviously didnt get it. But she got it, and it was a force of inspiration. To be fair, or rather unfair to the movie, maybe it wasnt the movie but just a natural gravitation by many kids to dinosaurs. What under tenner doesnt or didnt have an interest in dinosaurs? Well my wife didnt but,... mmm, I wont continue. So I guess this dinosaur movie can free the latent love of dinosaurs that every kid has locked inside. That's worth a lot. You can learn a lot reading about the dinosaurs.
Now compare that with the Smurfs II movie my wife brought her to see a couple months before. Well, admittedly my daughter did want to read her book about Paris, the movie takes place in Paris, but it didnt overwhelm her. She knows a bit about Paris now, I think, maybe. Oh and that the Eiffel tow... no, I dont think she remembers that.
So I have to change my opinion about this dinosaur movie and give it a thumbs up, or at least say, it WAS an OK movie DUDE. Luckily my daughter realized that and got psyched. I would have totally missed the educational opportunities from this movie if she hadnt cried to pet the dinosaur with a hole in his head.
End note: Im still in awe of the fact that dinosaurs existed for about 170 million years. We tend to think of them as a loser species because, well they became extinct. But consider that humans have a three million year history since they came down from trees, six million if you want to stretch it to include some sort of ape human transitional period. 6 million.... 170 million, what a piffle species humans are. Not to mention that humans ll be lucky if they last for another 100 years let alone another 164 million.
Wednesday, January 1, 2014
My son saved my life
Rats, now I can`t find the article. Oh, now I did find it. It`s at the bottom of the page.
I was reading through Daddy articles and I came across a story in the Deseret News from Utah, from May 2013, about a father who wanted to be more of a father than his dad had been. Not that difficult as the man s parents divorced shortly after he was born and he only saw his Dad twice after that. He then started doing drugs as a young teenager and took the path to jail because of it. He spent some years in jail. I forget if he had a kid before he went in or after he got out, but the statement that resonated for me was that now he wanted to be a real father to his young child (who was aged 17 months at time of article) and give him the best shot in life. In fact the father had stopped taking drugs because of his kid. No easy feat if you are on the hard stuff.
Sure, you can say it was kitsch. Quite often I reel off a number of sarcasms in my head if I read a touchy feely article, but I couldn't do that this time. I just knew the man was genuine, the situation was real and it was something to reflect upon, seriously, not as a joke. This child, the man s child had maybe saved his life. So not only did the Father want to spend more time with his son and be a better parent than his Dad, but he had a great reason to be: his child had saved his life. I don`t think he thought about that, it wasn't mentioned in the article, but I think it happened. It reminds me of the line in a NOFX song "Seems like everybodys got/something I have not/ a reason not to die". This father had to repay his son. As ridiculous as that sounds, because being a father isn't payback or you do it because you owe it to someone, in fact, that is exactly how it was. This man owed it to his child. Of course he wanted to be a good father to his son. But if you can say, "my child saved my life, so I owe it to him", you know its a bit of an extra incentive to be a good father.
That was rather a lengthy anecdote to make a point. The point being that Fathers WANT to be better parents. Fathers want to spend more time with their children. I think that men realize more and more that the father is necessary at home. As much as divorce is still high and maybe not declining, the father wants to be there with his children, more than in the past. I think we are evolving.
Lets not blame it on the past though. Since the mid 1800s and sped up by the industrial revolution, the roles of men and women were pushed in certain directions. Men worked, women stayed at home. Besides the 1940s during WW2, this was true all the way through the beginning of the 60s, and even then only 11 per cent of women (in the US) were the sole or higher breadwinner (1960 census).
The baby boomer generation was, at best, a transition time. That is to say, the mentality was changing, but it wasn't being backed up with action. As the saying goes, words without action equals zero. The idea was there, but the fathers were not at home. No action.
Now, according to the Pew Research Center analyzing 2010 census information, the number is 23 per cent. That is, 23 per cent of the women in the US are either the only money maker in the family or the higher money maker in the family. I would like to find out what it is in Europe overall. And as a result more males can and do say, "I want to be more of a father to my children than my dad was". With the economic and cultural shackles removed, men can be emancipated and be at home with their children more.
Sometimes it will even save their lives.
Yet, what keeps even more dads from taking on more parenting hours? I have to leave that for two more posts I hope to write in the not too distant future. I have the ideas in my head already, but have to read/think a bit more on it. Till that time, considering the date of this post, I hope you didn't or wont make too many New Years resolutions. Statistics show, they'll be out the door and history by March. I made my New Years resolutions this year back in September on the Jewish New Year, for a changer. So far Ive kept two of them. Starting on writing these posts was one of them.
Oh, a last "read the fine print". I'm the sole writer and editor of these posts. All bad grammar is due to my stupidity. I hope mistakes don't detract you from the overall massage. But let me know if so.
Edit, here is the article.
http://www.deseretnews.com/
I was reading through Daddy articles and I came across a story in the Deseret News from Utah, from May 2013, about a father who wanted to be more of a father than his dad had been. Not that difficult as the man s parents divorced shortly after he was born and he only saw his Dad twice after that. He then started doing drugs as a young teenager and took the path to jail because of it. He spent some years in jail. I forget if he had a kid before he went in or after he got out, but the statement that resonated for me was that now he wanted to be a real father to his young child (who was aged 17 months at time of article) and give him the best shot in life. In fact the father had stopped taking drugs because of his kid. No easy feat if you are on the hard stuff.
Sure, you can say it was kitsch. Quite often I reel off a number of sarcasms in my head if I read a touchy feely article, but I couldn't do that this time. I just knew the man was genuine, the situation was real and it was something to reflect upon, seriously, not as a joke. This child, the man s child had maybe saved his life. So not only did the Father want to spend more time with his son and be a better parent than his Dad, but he had a great reason to be: his child had saved his life. I don`t think he thought about that, it wasn't mentioned in the article, but I think it happened. It reminds me of the line in a NOFX song "Seems like everybodys got/something I have not/ a reason not to die". This father had to repay his son. As ridiculous as that sounds, because being a father isn't payback or you do it because you owe it to someone, in fact, that is exactly how it was. This man owed it to his child. Of course he wanted to be a good father to his son. But if you can say, "my child saved my life, so I owe it to him", you know its a bit of an extra incentive to be a good father.
That was rather a lengthy anecdote to make a point. The point being that Fathers WANT to be better parents. Fathers want to spend more time with their children. I think that men realize more and more that the father is necessary at home. As much as divorce is still high and maybe not declining, the father wants to be there with his children, more than in the past. I think we are evolving.
Lets not blame it on the past though. Since the mid 1800s and sped up by the industrial revolution, the roles of men and women were pushed in certain directions. Men worked, women stayed at home. Besides the 1940s during WW2, this was true all the way through the beginning of the 60s, and even then only 11 per cent of women (in the US) were the sole or higher breadwinner (1960 census).
The baby boomer generation was, at best, a transition time. That is to say, the mentality was changing, but it wasn't being backed up with action. As the saying goes, words without action equals zero. The idea was there, but the fathers were not at home. No action.
Now, according to the Pew Research Center analyzing 2010 census information, the number is 23 per cent. That is, 23 per cent of the women in the US are either the only money maker in the family or the higher money maker in the family. I would like to find out what it is in Europe overall. And as a result more males can and do say, "I want to be more of a father to my children than my dad was". With the economic and cultural shackles removed, men can be emancipated and be at home with their children more.
Sometimes it will even save their lives.
Yet, what keeps even more dads from taking on more parenting hours? I have to leave that for two more posts I hope to write in the not too distant future. I have the ideas in my head already, but have to read/think a bit more on it. Till that time, considering the date of this post, I hope you didn't or wont make too many New Years resolutions. Statistics show, they'll be out the door and history by March. I made my New Years resolutions this year back in September on the Jewish New Year, for a changer. So far Ive kept two of them. Starting on writing these posts was one of them.
Oh, a last "read the fine print". I'm the sole writer and editor of these posts. All bad grammar is due to my stupidity. I hope mistakes don't detract you from the overall massage. But let me know if so.
Edit, here is the article.
http://www.deseretnews.com/
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