The Boogie Monster

After 18 months of seemingly endless health (sans our little side trip to the redi clinic at MCO International Airport), we seem to be going through a phase of seemingly endless snot. Apologies for being so blunt, but it is what it is and there IS a lot of it. You’re a trooper through this though, you are clearly miserable and you look at me with the puppy dog eyes and the slight pout but you don’t complain. Oh, sure, sometimes you’ll get frustrated with being sick and announce how much you don’t like being sick by dropping to the floor, hiney in the air, head buried in the carpet, but even then, when tears well up in your eyes and you look at me to solve the one thing that I can’t so easily solve, you are still just a little girl who wants to be held. You now readily accept Mr Kleenex a part of your daily routine and have even offered your own attempts at “blowing” said green stuff into a tissue.
During this setback, you like snuggling and, when energy permits, playing monkeys on the ipad or mommy's phone. You don’t want to eat too much, you’ve really lessened your requests for dairy, and you continue to sleep like a champ at night even when the occasional coughing spell comes to visit. You even spent a few nights propped up in mommy and daddy’s bed, but we made sure you didn’t acclimate “too” well.
And even when you’re so sick that I can hear you breathing two rooms away, you still manage to quietly play away and entertain yourself. I’ll try to recant this when I don’t feel particularly well and I get cranky and want to bite off someone’s head at a moment’s notice. I’ll remember how you just accept the illness as inconsequential in the grand scheme of things and trust that this too shall pass. Believe it or not, I learn a lot from you too, this parenting thing isn’t a one way street.
Get well, my little girl.

It's a dog eat dog world....

That's actually kind of a scary idiom when you think about it. Anyway, in our house there are two adults (my wife and I), our daughter Sophia, and our dog; we’ll call her Zoie in an effort to protect the innocent. So, from my daughter’s point of view, of the inhabitants of our house, including her herself, the humans “should” solidly outweigh the animals. Yet, remarkably, I’m noticing more and more that Zoie seems to be resident mentor and role model of our toddler.
First it was the chewing, which I assumed was normal for teething babies (although, I’m not really sure how biting with what few teeth you have into a wood coffee table can make your teeth feel any better) and had started customarily with simple teething toys, but soon moved onto books, the dogs chew toys, and periodicals. She is now the proud owner of several books that look like, you guessed it, a puppy had the greatest day of its life chewing on.
Once she became bored of the dog’s chew toys and the taste of cardboard, she started to notice that the dog had ownership of a second classification of toys. Round toys. Soon Sophia began hunting down rubber balls, hockey balls, dryer balls and every other ball imaginable (that belonged to the dog), despite having ridiculous amounts of her own toxic plastic toys from China. On several occasions, she would even take a rubber ball right from Zoie and put it directly into her own mouth. Yum!
So far, nothing out of the ordinary, right? I mean, someone might try and make a correlation between my child’s behavior and the dog, but most would certainly discount it as normal toddler actions. Well, further evidence of my daughter’s canine copying, she now finds herself a comfortable spot to lay down in the dog’s bed when I close her in the bedroom with me. She used to enjoy the “human” bed, but now feels perfectly content curling up in a hair filled, Styrofoam filled, plaid floor fixture. And on most nights we’ll put her in her pjs, give her a bottle, and then let her play for a few minutes before putting her to bed. Typically, during that time she’ll seek out her boo boo bear and if it’s downstairs, carry it around for a bit before we put her down. Otherwise, boo boo bear is already in the crib where she greets it, immediately hugs it and proceeds to tuck it under herself to keep it warm though the night, dare I say like a dog to her newborn puppies? Or dare I say exactly like Zoie does with her boo boo blanket when she knows we are going out???? Scooping it up, whining a bit, and then laying on top of it as we leave the room and lock the front door. Hmmm...two sweetpeas in a pod. At one point, Sophia was even taking the dog’s blanket as her own, much to the chagrin of Zoie who was forced to relocate when she saw Sophia coming, lest she become another climbing toy or the recipient of a full weight body slam.
Again, chewing on dog toys and laying down on dog beds is probably something that most babies from households with dogs will attempt at some point in time (I hope), but I would argue that one of my daughter’s newest “talents” is probably something even a little more unique. Maybe I’m giving my daughter’s observational skills a little too much credit, but she has now proceeded to enter a full squat, tail up position when doing #2. Maybe #1 too, I dunno, but definitely #2, just like “you know who”. Now, I know I’ve never squatted like that for #1 or #2 (not that I’d be willing to admit to anyone anyway) and I’m sure my wife hasn’t either (at least in front of the baby) since she locks herself away for a good 20 minutes when it comes time. So where exactly is she picking this up (no pun intended)? I don't believe I have to look any further than her canine companion. , And if my hunch is correct, should we make an effort to potty train Zoie? Is this the answer to quick and painless potty training of Sophia? Doggie see, doggie doo? Or as an alternate path, do I continue encouraging this behavior, hopeful that she’ll start going #1 and 2 in the backyard (at least until she’s out of diapers, sparing me the expense) and barking at the Jehovah Witnesses that are so bothersome on weekends? What’s next eating off her plate without the use of her hands? Wait a minute…next? Uggh, ok, I’ll just call it all “quirky” for now, but I’m going to keep a watchful eye.

I've never quite understood the fascination with the baby’s “first word”. I mean, I understand it’s sort of a milestone, but we all know they will eventually talk, and talk they will, so why the rush and why the does the medical profession have to make it so “quantitative”? She “should “ be babbling by 6 months, she “should” be saying 3 words by one year, she “should” be forming complete sentences before 18 months. SHUT UPPPP! Not you sweetie, talk all you want, because god knows, if you can’t keep up with the baby Jonses, there is something wrong with you and we are going to have to introduce you to Mrs. “Speech Intervention” based on some Pediatricians timeline of when you should be talking back to me. Now, after waiting patiently for her to utter her first “real” word, I realize how silly it is for everyone to be so concerned about A. what that first word is, and B. the exact point on the timeline of her super short life that she actually said it. Sophia has been communicating well since she was a baby. At 10 months she started signing consistently and our communication improved, thanks to Aunt Roberta I think, or maybe it was some deaf child she met down the beach. Regardless, at 13 months, she was signing regularly and had begun to use some “pseudo” words consistently , but nothing of any substance. And by “pseudo” I mean, dada and eventually mama; yes dada was first and I have the video to prove it, but I digress because it really isn’t important in the grand scheme of things (except to mama). I also realized that I'm not sure when exactly she started pseudo talking, it definitely wasn't a sudden thing, she just started making sounds and “we”(some of us), hopeful that she would yet again fall into that absolute timeline, started interpreting mumbo jumbo into actual words. My wife would say, did you hear that? She said “…” and I would say “yes, I heard it”, when in reality, I was thinking “WTF, she was babbling that crap at 6 months, don’t put words in her mouth, no pun intended”. Look, in all honesty, it has been a gradual process, with lots of starts and stops along the way. That said, I’m going to update a list of Sophia’s “pseudo words" - some that she uses often, others that she has only blurted out a couple of times. I say pseudo, because they don’t really count per Marion Webster.

Mama (mostly combined with the sign for "more" when she wants something, but used other times as well)
Dada (used like "mama" but when talking directly to dada) hehe :0)
uh oh (her favorite for a bit, taught by mom mom)
pop pop (mom mom swear she says it, I’ve yet to hear it, sorry dad)

Animal noises (many of these have been around longer than most of the words):
woof woof (sounds more life "fff, fff" - she loves the "f" sound!) Let’s hope that unlike my neighbor Annie, she doesn’t eventually love the f-bomb.
mmmmmoo (cow) ok, I am embellishing a bit with the “o” at the end, it’s basically mmmmm. I’m not sure whether she is trying to say moo or she loves her milk so much she sees a cow and goes mmmmmmmm.
baaa (sheep)

Words she has said once or twice (like an UFO sighting):
Pop pop (from mom mom)
Ni ni (night night)
Buh bi (bye bye)
Doggie (From lala)
Huh? (as in ehhh?more like grunting ehhh"? and nails on a chalkboard)

Besides these few, practically indistinguishable words (to me anyway), she talks in her own language constantly. Our house and car is now filled with chatter, and I can honestly say I’m not looking forward to the day when I have to provide answers to the questions she will eventually form from all of this finger pointing followed by huh? (ehhh?-see above words). She definitely has lots to say and it is so fun to hear some of it, but I’ll be damned if I can understand one pseudo word of it. Although, I’ll admit I am getting quite proficient at hearing certain words that she is trying to communicate that are quite distinguishable from the babble, yet completely indistinguishable to anyone other than a father trying so hard to meet a pediatricians goals! 3 words by 1 year dammit or your child will ride the short bus!
That all changed tonight. You see, regardless of what baby books you read, what your doctor’s timeline outlines, what your friends and family tell you your child “should” be doing/saying at some ‘exact” point in the measured monthly age of 6, 12, 15, 18, 20, 24 months, or how hard I worked to have her first “real” distinguishable word be “beer”, Sophia clearly uttered her first word this evening. Not only did she say it clearly and with intention, she repeated it for me when I asked a second time what she wanted, and repeated it again when I brought my wife into the room to "officially" verify. Her first word?

IPAD. I kid you not.

Doofus Daddy

This post is actually the result of an email that I saw from a friend of my wife. It explained a card that she had just read that made her think of me of all people. The card basically showed a picture of a baby getting a bath in a sink full of dirty dishes and the caption read, “why dads shouldn’t babysit”. LOL. First, it only took a second for me to think the exact opposite. Isn't it actually quite ingenious that the father was not only multitasking by cleaning the baby AND the dishes simultaneously, and saving water in the process, but the GUY WAS DOING THE DISHES!! HELLO LADIES!! Damned if we do, damned if we don’t. When was is it that our culture somehow developed this stereotype that fathers are either invisible, incompetent, or second-rate parents? Most people (including dads, myself included) think mom is best suited to be the primary and most influential parent. One sees that mindset everywhere from the school nurse’s office to sitcoms. How often does the school nurse called a sick kid’s father at work to come pick her up? Does she have his work number at all? I'm willing to bet many have the NEIGHBOR as a second contact. Or watch the "sitcom" daddy who doesn’t know which end of the baby to put the bottle in, or who gags when changing a diaper, or completely ignores the child as they completely wreck the house while he's watching his favorite sprorting event. That’s the stereotype of Daddy as a dummy. In television while I was growing up, the sitcom father was presented completely different from today. The entire family sought him out to ask him advice and he was the family problem solver. The sitcom father of the past was presented as wise and intelligent. He was revered and honored by the whole family. He was respected. There were very few jokes poking fun at the sitcom father of the past. Usually, he was the one cracking jokes about other family members. Think back at some examples of these shows and how father’s were portrayed: "Happy Days", "Leave It to Beaver", "I Love Lucy", "Father Knows Best", with an exception being Fred Flinstone.
The sitcom fathers of today are often presented as the butt of jokes. They are made fun of by the family. They are often treated like one of the children and the wife has to look after them. The rest of the family does not seek them out for advice; instead they seek out the mother. The sitcom father is sometimes portrayed as so incompetent that he can't even complete simple household chores or look after the children. I know this creates humor, but this movement has permeated into commercials as well, and now obviously greeting cards!! Just think of some of the sitcoms today and the father’s role as a bumbling idiot, to clueless to take care of himself, let a lone a child or two. From the deranged father on “Malcolm in the Middle” to the generally incompetent "Everybody Loves Raymond", even if dad has a good job, like the star of "Home Improvement," at home he's forever making messes that must be straightened out by, you guessed it, mom.
So where did we fathers go wrong? There have always been some bumbling fathers like Dagwood Bumstead (duh) and Fred Flintstone, but now they're the norm. A study by the National Fatherhood Initiative found that fathers now are ten times more likely than mothers to be portrayed negatively on network television.
Still, no matter how much dad does in real life, I think he'll remain a doofus on television, and not just because he's a safe target and makes the audience laugh. In fact, Homer Simpson has become the longest-running doofus on television by appealing to guys, who have made "The Simpsons" one of the few sitcoms with a predominantly male audience. Homer embodies a famous mantra across all species, that motherhood comes naturally, but fatherhood must be learned. It's an awkward process, no doubt about that, and contrary to my wife's beliefs, it can't be learned from a book. Before I became a father, dads my own age often did look like doofuses to me as they struggled with drooling babies and their new domesticity - no more free time or disposable income, lots of chores to do, oftentimes general malaise with life and orders to take from wives/recent mothers ruling the home. Believe me, I’ve witnessed it all first hand, to many it was quite a mental beatdown.
As a big fan of the Simpons and someone without children at the time, I’ll be the first to admit that I saw Homer as hilarious and actually a decent portrayal of today’s absent father figure, looking for an out at every opportuinity. Looking back now, all those commercials and sitcoms that I would laugh at regularly were doing their job and painting the exact image in my head that on the surface, it appeared they were shooting for—that every father wanted to be everything BUT a father. Now? As a recently inductee into the fatherhood hall of shame, I realize that even in Homer’s case, yes, the guy may want to duck out for a beer sometimes, but when he sits on that couch with his family he does not look like a man longing to escape. He is at peace. I guess in me, fatherhood has created one more happy doofus.

Summer-Your Second Year

Park swings and tall summer grass
Starting to recognize the shadows you cast
The water's cold, yet you loved to swim
As you frolicked about in your summer skin

I can't recall a single care
Just greenery, your curls, the result of humid air
Then Labor day came and went
Memories of your second summer spent




You are 16 months old now, a whole year and a third! You are a walking/dancing machine. You aren't saying much, but who's complaining?

You amaze me every day. You understand so much now. When I ask you if you want to eat, you get more excited than Zoie. You love bright colored fruits, blueberries, mango, strawberries and bananas. Actually, you love just about everything and have since you were able to try something other than milk. You've enjoyed goat cheese, sheep cheese, raw parmesan cheese that was older than you! You like to drink from grown up bottles like mommy and daddy. We've been spiking your food and formula with fish oil since you were born so you'll grow up nice and healthy. You wave hello to everyone and are the official greeting committee. You wave goodbye, reluctantly as you hate to see the party end. You have developed your own little language as a form of communication. Aside from obvious pointing and grunting, you tell us "more" with a hand gesture, you want to go swimming and you see birds. You recognize airplanes and have begun to mimic your mom and dad. You love Zoie and get her treats from the cupboard. You want to give her all of them, more, more! You laugh hysterically as you cup them in your hand and she chases you around drooling uncontrollably. It's your new game of cat and mouse.

You do not crawl anymore, you walk everywhere and it still feels surreal. When you tire, you are a little wobbly on your feet, I admire how you fall down and get straight back up again, you don't even acknowledge the fall. You are so cute, yet so durable! You really enjoy being tossed about. You have always been a little angel at bedtime and you sleep through the night since day one in your own room! No one would believe me unless they lived with us, but even the few times you've been up at night, you go right back down. One time I even had to pull your legs in from outside the crib and you didn't even wake. You are super flexible, stay up late, sleep in late, get up early, go down early! You are a well traveled toddler, and started the summer with a trip to Disney on your birthday. You are sometimes shy, but instantly warm to your surroundings.
We love having you with us everywhere we go and seeing your face when you experience new things. There really is no greater joy and there is so much more to come.

I love your zest for life, your hunger for knowledge and your eager little mind that always seems to be processing! I hope I am nurturing all these things and giving you everything you need. I will always try my best to ensure you understand the value you bring to our family whatever path you choose in life.

I guess, what I really want to thank you for, is coming into this world as my little girl, and for brightening my life with your energy. I hope to repay you someday through a wealth of knowledge and cultural experiences that can never be counted in dollars and cents.

Poopie Diapers

Look, I'm going to be honest here, like most first time fathers I had zero previous experience changing a baby’s diaper, and by zero, I mean zero. I have nieces and I have friends with children, but I've ALWAYS managed to avoid the what seems to be the archaic task of changing a baby diaper. Since I had no experience, my imagination was filled with thoughts of diapers full of giant stinky man-sized turds, always mushy, always escaping out the sides, down her legs, up her back and on her clothes. Or something at least as bad as dog poop, which I've often gagged on even when picking up with a shovel. So naturally, changing diapers was at the top of the list of things I dreaded doing (and there were many), and something I planned to avoid as long as possible (although my wife will tell you that I still haven't changed one in over 14 months).
Well much to my surprise baby poop turns out to be nothing like I had feared. It’s hard to even call it poop really. Mainly it's been rock hard marbles that just roll around the half pipe shaped diaper (genius shape for keeping the marbles in check) or large flattened forms of darkish silly putty, that I truly believe capture the imprint of whatever Disney character she happens to be wearing that day (I've seen it myself). Does anyone remember pressing silly putty into the Sunday color comics and capturing an imprint? Bingo with the poopie if it's been in there long enough and given time to flatten out by her bottom. Even the diarrhea she recently encountered (and I swear my wife an I JUST discussed the fact that this kid never had diarrhea since like the first three days of life and whammo on comes the anal faucet) is just some lightly colored mushy stuff with a vaguely unpleasant odor. Seriously, cleaning up after our gerbils growing up brings memories far worse than changing a baby’s diaper. Disclaimer: To date only, I anticipate having her potty trained soon. And in the gerbils case, they pooped and pee'd everywhere. There was no diaper to catch the excrement, and much of it hid and lurked under half chewed paper towel rolls and ceder shaving nests. I don't believe my parents could afford rubber gloves back then, I mean why else would they make me put my bare hands in there knowing of the inevitable "touch". But I digress; back to baby poopie. Fear not, after a while you wont even put down your fruit to change a diaper, you’ll just hold it in your mouth while your hands blast through the deed in seconds. I really am that fast and wonder if there are actual contests I could enter.
Ever see the pit team at the Indianapolis 500 change out the tires on a Formula One car? It’s just a blur. That’s how fast you’ll be after a while, not because it's disgusting, it just becomes second nature.
In fact, it seems that we begin to look forward to poopie diapers. It actually becomes the topic of conversation. When I pick her up from my parents I am given the score of the day. "We changed two poopie diapers or she didn't make poopies today or, only one poopie today", like it's an actual disappointment. My mother-in-law, same thing, no "good morning" as she arrives, she's on a mission to get the poopie lowdown. Sometimes I get the lead in question first knowing that she knows food or drink usually starts the poopie engine. "did she eat this morning?"but it always leads to the poopie diaper question. It's just a simple lead in to the question you know is coming and is on everyone's mind. Most questions are usually followed by a raise and a sniff. If there's a poopie in there, they'll find it, regardless of the baby's temperament. I call it the poop watch. not on my watch they say, so courtesy sniffs at least every hour. Look, if the kid is content and happy, why would I actually seek out a poopie diaper? Oh, but like finding the coveted chocolate egg on easter sunday, they immediately seek the poopie diaper and frown on me for missing it. you'd think they'd be happy, after all, the poopie diaper consumes them. You’ll even get everyone a little worried if she doesn’t poop for couple of days, her poop changes color or order, or it just looks odd. It has nothing to do with the nineteen new foods you've introduced her to in the past 7 days or the dog food she ate right out of the bowl the night before, nope, there's cause for concern and everyone is now on the lookout.
Regular healthy poop is an indication of a healthy regular child. So after a while it becomes not so much of a chore, but more of a systems check. All is well, she made a poopie.
So don’t sweat the diaper stuff, if I can do it anyone can.

Can you spot a poopie diaper?