On the Daddy Tip #4

Today's Daddy tip is from the Day Care test kitchen. If you're a Dad like me, you probably like to eat right? Right. And sometimes your wife in her infinite wisdom will go out of town to visit your parents and leave you alone with unprepared foods. Foods that you must heat using something other than the microwave. Foods that require the stove. Well, if you find yourself hankering for a curry here's a quick heads up: Pam baking spray...is for baking! Unfortunately, the good people at ConAgra Foods didn't factor in the Man contingent when posting warning labels on their cans of baking spray. As such there isn't one that advises against using the spray in a saucepan and then leaving the room while the pan gets hot. But not to worry! If you are blessed with caring neighbors like I am then someone will call the fire department when they notice the smoke coming out of your house. Just remember, the firefighters will most likely be Men and woMen and they will laugh at you as you struggle to regain consciousness.

I love the city of New Orleans. Maybe because I'm a southerner or maybe because the French Quarter is beautiful. And I'm not talking about Bourbon St. I don't need to go to another city to get drunk, that's just a perk. Recently though, I saw this show on YouTube that disturbed me deeply. After watching all eight parts I realized something. Not that NOLA is crap, or that I had missed something in my visits. I started wondering how in the hell can a government, whether local, state or federal, ignore such a problem. Sure there's the argument of people needing to be responsible for themselves but doesn't the government have a responsibility also? For a government, even one of a city I love, to allow people to live in such conditions is reprehensible. Anyway, I was all set to throw a fit and then I found this with its links to dissidentvoice.com. Now I'm all confused about whether or not the "destruction" of the Magnolia, Melpomene and Calliope projects being blamed on Katrina is a bad thing. On the one hand, new housing projects will probably not be built so those folks are SOL due to the literal theft of their homes. On the other hand, if I had lived in the 3rd ward I wonder if I would have complained about having to move.

Goin' slimmin'

First a little back-story:
My daughter does this thing with her arms when she's pissed at you. She'll sit with her legs spread for stability and rapidly swing her arms up and down. It usually results in her falling backwards with her legs up in the air and her head hitting the floor.
Now some middle-story:
I had this dog. A border collie/black lab mix. Best dog ever. In my opinion(cause I'm a professional) this type of dog should be recognized as a breed. They're super smart, they love the outdoors, have great stamina and they don't herd. They're also everywhere; I might not know you but even you have seen at least one. Anyway, one day hiking with my dog, I came upon a small pond. I had always wondered why he never went in water so I decided to see what was up. I picked him up, walked over to the pond and tossed him in. He almost drowned. And he wouldn't go in water after that, either. I later found out that that is the wrong way to introduce your dog to water.
Now some now-story:
My wife: Isn't it weird that Ruby doesn't sit down in the bathtub anymore?
Me: Yeah...Weird. Maybe because she likes standing on her own so much?

On the Daddy Tip #3

A recent article in Parenting magazine gives you advice on how to deal with a tantrumic 2-3 year old. It's basically a short list of different ways to reason with or trick your child: Hold my keys for a minute, hold onto your yell until we leave the store, when I'm mad I get hungry, let's hunt down some food and drink. The most brilliant tantrum diffuser I ever saw however, involved no words, no reasoning and no rewarding your kids tantrum with a snack. I was in a grocery store when a kid blew up. You know the drill, lay on the floor, kick the feet, bang the hands, cry "uncontrollably". The kid's mom, who earned honorary Dad status for her no BS policy, left the kid. Without breaking stride the mom just kept on walking, ignoring the kid. But wait, you say, how would that end a tantrum? The key is your kid. Even at three a.m, when your poor dear is crying and snotting because she can't sleep, the kid is paying attention. No matter how loud and out of control they get, kids are listening. You can even test this on your own. Next time your kid is crying and such and it's late, just before you go into their room, make a noise. You don't have to knock over an armoire or anything, just stomp your foot a little louder than usual. The result, instant quiet because your kid is listening for you. Yes, you still have to go into the room but the point is to prove to you that even when they seem inconsolable, kids are lying to you. That's why ignoring your kids tantrum is so brilliant. There's none of that, "I'm going to do this or that" bluffing, because tell the truth, if your kid calls you on it, are you Man enough to do it? No, you cut to the chase. Ignore the kid, ignore the tantrum and let other Dads watch in wonder as you leave your child writhing in the sawdust on the floor of Home Depot. Oh, and the little girl whose mom left her? As soon as she realized mom was continuing to shop she bolted to her feet and ran after her mother without another peep.

The Guess Who

My daughter has given me Captain Trips. Fortunately, I think I'm one of the few that are immune so I'm on the road to recovery. But while I've been stewing in a hallucinogenic stupor for the last three days I've had the opportunity to think about something. I'm either the most selfish Dad in the world or the most truthful. In a baby class my wife made me go to when she was still expecting, the instructor/nurse asked if there were any questions. I raised my hand and asked the soon-to-be Dads in the room if there was anyone else who felt as if their baby or wife's pregnancy was taking away everything they used to love. Everyone in the room turned and looked at me as if I was crazy but I could see the truth in their eyes. I've always been the one in my family who couldn't wait to start a family. Since before I really knew where babies came from I've wanted a daughter who looked just like her mother. But, in month number six, as I scrubbed the beer stains off the hardwood floor of the Man-Cave in preparation for the Coming of the Kid I asked myself, 'What have I done?' I'll admit I volunteered the Cave because it was the coolest room in the summer and the warmest in the winter but I had no clue of what was in store. Yes, having my Dad come over and help me with some construction was awesome and the EVP I captured after the furniture was in the room but the kid was still imminent was neat but now I'm in the basement. My basement leaks. My cousin said my Cave is cool but there are spiders down there. I used to worry about electrocution by Fender but since I can't find time to play anymore I should live forever. In a very roundabout way I come to my point. The kid has been at daycare all week because of the Captain and I've been off work in the mornings but I can't play my git-box. It seems like whenever I have time to play and not interrupt people with bad AC/DC or crappy B.B. I'm sick. Or working midnights. Or Notre Dame is playing. Or cleaning needs done. Or it's raining and my basement is moist. I know a guy who played bass. I asked him why he doesn't play anymore and he said, as he glanced at his two year-old, "No time." I used to tell myself I'd never stop skating or hiking, biking, drawing, making salsa, playing video games, drinking foreign beers, driving slightly drunk or playing the guitar. But now I have "No time."

Life's a Bitch and Then You Die.

I just recently heard from a friend who is having to sit around and wait to find out if she has cancer or not and that started me to thinking about being an adult. I became aware of my own mortality when I was 27 and had to have my first colonoscopy but I never seriously thought about dying until a co-worker passed away earlier this year. A famous man once said "Everyone dies alone", but who ever stops to think about their own death? Sure, there are fears of serious injury from spiders, sunroofs and heights but I don't really concern myself with being killed by those things. No, death is that silent, sneaky thing that comes when we least expect it, whether we've made our peace or not. And when you actually sit in a dark room with no TV, radio or loved ones to distract you and think about your death, it's scary. How will it happen?, Will it hurt?, Will I see her graduate from anything?, How soon will my wife re-marry? Throughout her life or death situation my friend can joke about it. She can tell the cancer weight loss and glowing in the dark jokes and continue on. I sit and listen to her and the one thing I'm struck by is how now I'm a member of that generation. You know which one I mean. They sit around talking about a recently deceased friend and say "Oh, they were so young. That's so sad." Well that's me and my friends now. Life is happening to us and no one asked us if it was okay. I mean, I know I'm old because high school kids look so small now but I feel and act young. Well, aside from the creaky knees, stiff fingers and intestinal problems. My point is, there is no map for the territory I'm passing into now. I have to figure this stuff out on my own and if I'm wrong and there is no reincarnation, I've only got one chance. It's true that life is unfair but that just sucks.

I.O.U.

For my grandparents and parents, who lived through this, this, this, this and this so that I could see this. Thank You. And Congratulations.

On the Daddy Tip #2

Listening to a baby's head hit the floor is disgusting. And babies tend to cry when it happens which causes moms to come running and Dads to get in trouble. Fortunately, kids are resilient. I'm a firm believer in painful lessons and not just because I'm a Manly Man. Think of it this way: You buy this goofy-ass helmet for your kid, your kid thinks, "Sweet, I'm Unbreakable", then proceeds to fall a lot and not get hurt. What has your child learned. Nada. Dads and moms, please, let your kid get hurt every now and again. Nothing serious mind, just enough little bumps and bruises so that a lesson can be learned. As much as it pains me to say it, sometimes kids do need limits set. That, however, is no reason to give your child a Bubble Boy complex by forcing him or her to exist in a world where nothing can or is allowed to hurt them. Kids need fear, it's healthy to a certain point and it teaches them more about themselves and the world around them than anyone, aside from some doctor somewhere, can fathom. Remember, a person with no fear is just an idiot.