tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-69380470717329112362024-03-13T14:11:31.893-04:00Adventures in ParentingJoin me and my wife in our trial by fire as we become parents!Justinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13309915942161862912noreply@blogger.comBlogger139125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6938047071732911236.post-69136400506073606052013-06-21T13:04:00.001-04:002013-06-21T13:04:13.201-04:00My Daughter, Hungry and IndifferentHarper has eaten very little today. This is a common occurrence, but maybe not for the reasons one might suspect.<br />
<br />
Many children are picky with what they will eat. One of my cousins ate nothing but macaroni and cheese for years because he refused. Harper doesn't really have this problem. Occasionally, she will refuse to even try something because Saturn has aligned with Neptune and Mars is moving into Libra. The conversation goes something like this:<br />
<br />
Harper: "Dad, what's for dinner?"<br />
Me: "We're having pasta salad, chicken fingers and broccoli! YUM!" (Don't judge me)<br />
H: "NOOOOOOO!!!! I don't like pasta salad!!!"<br />
M: "...You ate it and loved it yesterday. Just try it."<br />
H: "NOOOOOOOOOO!!!! I don't like pasta salad! And I won't eat anything else while the offending food is still on my plate! Cleanse it and return it to me!"<br />
M: "...I'm not doing that. If you don't want the pasta salad, that's fine. You don't have to eat it."<br />
H: "It has spread its infection to the remainder of the food items! They, too, offend me now! I shall commence flopping on the floor as though all of the bones have been removed from my body!"<br />
M: "...Why are you doing that?"<br />
H: "BECAUSE I AM THREE!!!"<br />
<br />
...and so on.<br />
<br />
The main reason why my child is always hungry in because eating is not nearly as exciting to her and whatever else happens to be going on inside her head. One of my biggest sources of frustration with her is the fact that she is seemingly incapable of remaining at the table for an entire meal. I don't mean that she has to sit there until we are all finished and have given a complete rundown of our days. I mean she can't seem to stay at the table while she eats. She's turning around, looking out the window, getting something from her room, getting something from the kitchen, getting a different fork, climbing onto Sara's lap, finding a doll, showing us a new dance, putting the finishing touches on her homemade rocketship, solving world peace, solving world hunger (by not eating anything herself) etc.<br />
<br />
She will then claim that she's all done and no longer hungry. This statement will, to my utter bafflement and rage, be immediately followed by "Can I have a snack?"<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She has no problem serving food, just putting it into her mouth...</td></tr>
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Today for lunch, I heated up some macaroni and cheese to clear some space in the fridge, and cooked some hot dogs at their request. The girls had a picnic lunch on the living room floor and while Harper was distracted by other things for 25 minutes, Brynn ate both hot dogs and most of the mac and cheese, leaving her sister with nothing.<br />
<br />
I would feel badly about it, except that I told Harper no less than 8 times that if she didn't sit and eat, exactly this would happen.<br />
<br />
H: "I'm going to eat in a bit."<br />
M: "Sweetie, by the time you eat, it will all be gone."<br />
H: "I know!"<br />
<br />
22 minutes later...<br />
<br />
H: "Dad, Brynn ate all the hotdogs! Can you make more?"<br />
M: "No. I told you that if you didn't eat, she would eat it."<br />
H: "But I had to do some stuff."<br />
M: "I'm sorry sweetie."<br />
Brynn: **BUUUUUUUUUUUUURP** "Ate all the hot dog!"<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Behind this adorable face is a cavernous black hole containing tears and hot dogs.</td></tr>
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<br />
I've read and been told that you shouldn't hold food over your kids like a punishment. You also shouldn't make them sit at the table until they've eaten everything on their plates. I am curious, however, how long it will take my oh-so-busy daughter to starve herself to death simply out of distraction.<br />
<br />
"No, she's not anorexic. She's just easily distracted."<br />
<br />
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<br />Justinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13309915942161862912noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6938047071732911236.post-34692827862083361552013-06-03T08:16:00.000-04:002013-06-03T08:16:03.697-04:00My Daughters, Very Different PeopleA few weeks ago, I confiscated a laser pointer from one of my students. He was using it to perform Lasik on strangers from down the hall and, since he was doing so without a license, or patient consent, I felt it in the public interest to relive him of it.<br />
<br />
I, like many pet owners, used the laser pointer to lead my children on wild goose chases throughout my house. The girls would scream "THERE IT IS!!!" and go tearing after the red dot that was magically floating on the wall, on the chair, on mom's leg. Just as they were about to reach it, it would bolt in another direction, sending the girls running in circles until they pass out. Childish and inhuman? Maybe. Effective? Yes.<br />
<br />
The second time we did this, Sara showed them how to coax the point of light into their hands. She knelt on the ground and gently whispered "c'mon, little guy! It's alright. Come here!" and the light slowly, gingerly moved its way into her hand.<br />
<br />
On Saturday, I got the laser pointer out again and had it running around the kitchen. After the initial screams of excitement, Harper knelt down and gently coaxed the light into her hand. Brynn watched her carefully, as she usually does, analyzing her movements. When the spot of light was almost into Harper's palm, having slowly inched its way towards her, Brynn cocked her head to the side and stomped on it with all her little feet could handle.<br />
<br />
I think it's safe to say which parent each child takes after. Harper's loving nature is derived directly from her mother, while Brynn has the sensibilities of her true father, Lucifer Morningstar.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It's hard out there for a thug.</td></tr>
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At what age can you get a child tested for sociopathy?Justinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13309915942161862912noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6938047071732911236.post-57614193742683178872013-05-31T09:15:00.000-04:002013-05-31T22:48:28.049-04:00My Daughters, Growing Up By AccidentI know this may come as a shock to those of you who get all of your contact with young children from episodic television, but children actually grow up without the actors being replaced. Occasionally, you have moments that could be considered episode lessons, where you child has an epiphany about their behavior and they are changed forever, hugging the kid they bullied, repairing Mr. Johnson's fence without being asked, fessing up to smashing the window the baseball and blaming their little brother. Usually these don't happen.<br />
<br />
The epiphanies usually come from the parents, and usually in the form of "Holy crap! This kid is older than they used to be!"<br />
<br />
With Harper, it came in the form of complete sentences. She now says things like "Dad, I don't think I would like some popcorn just yet. I'll wait a little bit."<br />
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<br />
For Brynn, It has been more gradual. Since Harper talks so much, Brynn is much less verbal, allowing her sister to speak for her when they are together. As a result of this, her growing up has been more in facial expressions and body language, which can be overlooked.<br />
<br />
About a year ago, once she was able to pull herself into the chair, I found her sitting with her legs crossed in a way that I would expect from a lady in Victorian England. I often find her simply watching interactions between myself and Harper, or between Sara and Harper, her head moving back and forth, quietly analyzing the interplay as though remembering what to tell her therapist in 30 years.<br />
<br />
In addition to these, watching them develop personalities has been fascinating as well. I expected that they would pick up many of the traits and preferences that Sara and I have simply through exposure and, to be sure, they have. They have, however, developed plenty of their own, many of which I cannot explain or even find an origin for. For example, they both LOOOOOVE to wear dresses. Anyone who knows my wife knows that she wears dresses when the occasion calls for it, but she's a jeans and t-shirt kind of woman. As is her mother, my mother, and pretty much every important female figure in their girls lives.<br />
<br />
That being said, when we ask the girls what they want to wear, conversations go as follows:<br />
Me: "Good morning, sweetie! What do you want to wear today?" <br />
H: "I want to wear a dress today!"<br />
Me: "I know you do, but there are 4 inches of snow on the ground and a dress isn't warm enough. Can you pick something with sleeves and legs?"<br />
H: "But I WANT to wear a dress."<br />
Me: "I know, baby, but it's too cold out. We can wear a dress when it gets warmer."<br />
H: "Daddy, I will wear pants and a shirt and THEN a dress."<br />
<br />
My children treat normal clothes as though they are the undergarments that allow them to wear dresses in winter. Brynn is perfectly content wearing nothing but a tutu, where she will walk around and tell anyone who is willing to make eye contact with a half-naked toddler in a tutu that she's a "ballaweena!"<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">If she likes you, she doesn't care about your skin color, or what material you're made from.</td></tr>
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<br />
With the impending end of the school year in the next week, I will begin my stint as stay-at-home-dad for the summer. Last year was fun, but a little easy since Brynn wasn't walking much. I could stick her in the stroller and let Harper do what she needed. This summer, Brynn is much more independent and I have to think much harder about what we can do without them running in opposite directions. I plan to still take them for a walk every morning that it's not raining and, behavior willing, I'll be taking them out to breakfast as well.<br />
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<br />
There are lots of playgrounds and parks to explore as well as the zoo and museums for children. I'm looking forward to the summer.<br />
<br />
But I'm not looking forward to my little girls growing up.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">More of this, but with less me...</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Getting there...</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Better.</td></tr>
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<br />Justinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13309915942161862912noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6938047071732911236.post-22989761490616434962013-04-15T11:29:00.000-04:002013-04-15T11:29:26.533-04:00My Daughter, The Only ChildMy brother is what some might call a "wandering spirit." He finds homes wherever he is and creates communities around him. He has backpacked through South America, lived at a yoga center in New England, worked on a medical marijuana farm in California and, most recently, has been working in Colorado. His next adventure is working with a group learning sustainable habitat construction.<br />
<br />
At least I think so. It's hard to remember the details when I'm listening while playing Star Wars: The Old Republic.<br />
<br />
On Saturday, he flew into Philadelphia to spend several days with my mom before tromping off into the woods to build houses designed to leave no carbon footprint.<br />
<br />
Since Sara had a bridal shower to attend, I took Harper with me and we made the arduous trek across the wilds of the Pennsylvania Turnpike to spend time with my family before my brother's wanderlust kicked in and he forsook soap for another 3 months.<br />
<br />
I know that I have said before that having two children isn't twice as difficult as having one, it's slightly less than twice. There are many things you don't have to worry about for the second since they are already completed for the first, such as childproofing, getting plates and cups for the kids, clothing is mostly purchased and the learning curve is not nearly as steep.<br />
<br />
In much the same way, taking a trip with one child is not half as easy as taking a trip with two. It's MUCH easier. Especially if that one is potty trained and semi-autonomous.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Immediately following this picture, the Sidling Hill Rest stop was filled with my anxious cries of "NO HUGS!! You're covered in ice cream!!!"</td></tr>
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She slept for much of the ride, but when she was awake, we had excellent conversations! She told me all about the mean spiders who came to our house to eat our furniture and how she managed to scare them off.<br />
<br />
<br />
With the weather as beautiful as it was, we were able to spend a ton of time outside (read: able to wear out the toddler very quickly). I loaded her up with a backpack full of snacks and water, including my own. I would have felt badly about turning my three-year-old in a pack mule, but I knew full well that I would be carrying her much of the day, including the 1/3 mile uphill hike from the parking lot to the gardens at Morris Arboretum. We walked through the entire exhibit, including a special exhibit where a sculptor had placed large wooden insect statues throughout the ground.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-57VK7Dfw1Nw/UWwYTxUIerI/AAAAAAAAGi8/unBu-483kLM/s1600/9604A219-DBF4-40C3-AC5C-4135DAD3E1D4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-57VK7Dfw1Nw/UWwYTxUIerI/AAAAAAAAGi8/unBu-483kLM/s1600/9604A219-DBF4-40C3-AC5C-4135DAD3E1D4.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I swear! The egg was THIIIIIIIIS big!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Harper was not interested in hatching the eggs like Grammy wanted her to</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Adorable!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"I touched his bum! It's a big big big bum!"</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Why yes! She did pick out her own outfit!</td></tr>
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She was large and in charge and kept leading us to see new and exciting things. I figured that allowing her to explore would be the best way to keep her interest in the exhibit. Because I didn't have to worry about corralling two small children, I was able to let her wander and keep an eye on her to make sure she didn't pick TOO many flowers or dive head first into the swan pond.<br />
<br />
Fun for her, minimal stress for me! There were enough people there that she didn't run off but few enough that she didn't have to stay by my side the whole time. She loved carrying her backpack with drinks and snacks!<br />
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She very politely waited her turn to climb atop the creepy man-frog, even when a kid pushed in front of her.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Relaxing a bit with Grammy</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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Post outing, we took a nice long nap, followed by a trip to the playground with her uncle to burn off whatever energy had been recovered by lunch and sleeping!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Harper is deceptively heavy.</td></tr>
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The ride home was equally nice! She slept much of the way and we talked for the rest. All in all it was a delightful weekend with great times had by all involved!<br />
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I think my entire weekend could be summed up with the following picture:<br />
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Sara's weekend can be summed up with this one:<br />
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I totally win!Justinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13309915942161862912noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6938047071732911236.post-12075725028551227792013-01-18T09:37:00.000-05:002013-01-18T09:37:10.571-05:00My Daughter, The Future Serial Killer<b>Disclaimer: The following post is not meant to imply a judgement of people who spank their children</b> <br />
<br />
Sara and I do not spank our children. I am opposed to spanking, not just on moral grounds, but because I have seen no evidence that it's effective. I was never spanked as a child, but some might argue that that's part of my problem. I know there are plenty of stories of people who got spanked and turned out just fine, but I mean something more than anecdotal.<br />
<br />
If someone presented me with a scientific study that stated that spanking a child had behavioral and emotional benefits, I would accept that premise. I still would not spank my kids, but I might let go of some of my bias about it.<br />
<br />
We teach the girls that hitting is wrong. You could have the following conversation with H:<br />
<br />
"She hit me!"<br />
"That wasn't very nice. What do we do when people hit us?"<br />
"We hug them!!"<br />
<br />
We never hit the girls, either out of anger, frustration or discipline.<br />
<br />
So it confuses me greatly that B is so violent. Her response to everything is to smack it, regardless of whether she likes it or not.<br />
<br />
Someone takes your toy? HIT THEM!!<br />
Someone offers you chips? HIT THEM!!<br />
Someone asks you what you want for dinner? SMACK THE HECK OUT OF THEM!!!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Someone had a rough day beating up kids for their mashed peas money.</td></tr>
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<br />
We put her in time-out and tell her not to hit several times each day. Very little of her violence is malicious. She usually commits these acts while smiling the sweetest smile, which means one of two things: Either she doesn't fully comprehend what she's doing and sees hitting as a way to interact with the world around her, or she's a psychopath and I should keep an eye out for her to twist the heads off of puppies.<br />
<br />
I hope it's not the latter, but just in case, it's another reason that I'll use when asked why we can't have a dog.<br />
<br />
That's why Dexter and Deb couldn't have one growing up.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Hello, ASPCA? I'd like to adopt a dog!"</td></tr>
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<br />
<br />
I'm not really concerned, just confused. I don't know where she sees this behavior, other than maybe daycare. The TV that they watch has nothing like this in it, aside from that one episode of Chloe's Closet where they became professional boxers, or the episode of Caillou where Caillou and Leo join the Bloods and get teardrop tattoos.<br />
<br />
Other than spanking, I'm wondering what solutions parents have found to this.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Someone crossed my bridge without answering my riddle? HIT THEM!!</td></tr>
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<br />Justinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13309915942161862912noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6938047071732911236.post-39757929545372303432013-01-13T10:08:00.000-05:002013-01-13T10:08:21.709-05:00My Daughters, UnoccupiedWhen I was playing the role of stay-at-home-dad during the summer, I had a semblance of a schedule. It went as follows:<br />
<br />
Wake-up<br />
Feed the girls breakfast (quickly)<br />
Get the girls dressed (quickly)<br />
Throw them in the stroller (quickly)<br />
Go for a walk through town<br />
Get the girls a doughnut to share<br />
Walk home<br />
Watch Caillou (or something equally inane)<br />
Lunch <br />
NAAAAAAAAAAAAP<br />
Play in the house<br />
Play in the yard<br />
Snack<br />
Make dinner<br />
Cry deeply about not getting to clean the house<br />
Dinner<br />
Go the park<br />
Bed<br />
<br />
It was shocking to me how slowly the days go when you don't have a plan. We certainly had days when we didn't go for walks or go to the park. These were the days when the devil himself complained how hot it was.<br />
<br />
They were also the days when it was raining, or looked like it might.<br />
<br />
These days were not good. I'm not really one for arts and crafts with small children. I'm hoping that this coming summer, it will be different. Perhaps by then, H won't feel like using sharpie to give herself eye shadow and B won't get such exquisite joy out of smashing pencils and markers point first into the table.<br />
<br />
I hope by then that both girls will have forgotten the joyous taste of crayons.<br />
<br />
H is already past this stage. She has been doing very well with coloring and enjoys sitting at the table doing it. For the most part, she only colors on paper and does so gently.<br />
<br />
B finds greater pleasure is swiping her hand through a pile of crayons or markers or pencils and scattering them to the wind, creating chaos for the sake of chaos. When people tell me that she's a gift from god, I know to which god they refer.<br />
<span id="goog_760739828"></span><span id="goog_760739829"></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Gaze upon this child and weep into the void!"</td></tr>
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Over the holiday break, I once again took up the mantle of stay-at-home-dad. I learned very quickly that the challenges of entertaining children during the winter vary greatly from, and in fact hardly resemble, the challenges of entertaining them during the summer.<br />
<br />
I remember from my own childhood the hardships and annoyances of dressing in cold weather clothing. Out of desperate fear of being icing over, we dress the children in a minimum of 14 layers, ensuring a maximum amount of sweat and a minimum amount of movement. It takes 10 minutes to get them dressed and another 10 to get them undressed. Total time spent outside before the calls of "I'm cold!"? 3 minutes.<br />
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I think my next goal in the house is to make a play room where there is nothing I care about. A room where the girls can run rampant without my checking on them every three minutes, not out of concern for their safety, but out of concern for my material possessions.<br />
<br />
This past week, in lieu of going outside, we had several discussions about what to do with monsters. B also learned a new skill...<br />
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I suppose it's true that adversity fosters ingenuityJustinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13309915942161862912noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6938047071732911236.post-38831492510142843542013-01-04T14:27:00.000-05:002013-01-04T17:47:11.972-05:00My Daughters, Preachers Of The Doctrine Of HalfThe reason that scientists are able to determine the age of fossils is through the process of radiocarbon dating. In this process, scientists estimate how much of the unstable isotope carbon 14 should be in a sample based on atmosphere and type of material and compare it with the amount that it actually contains. Carbon 14 has a half life of approximately 5730 years, give or take 40. This means that every 5730 years, half of the carbon 14 in a sample will have decayed away.<br />
<br />
Parenting is a kind of half life. Some of this is anticipated, such as the idea that once there are children in the house, the amount of sleep you are able to get decays to about half. A previous solid 8 hours of sleep will decay to 4 in just the 9 short months between conception and birth. I realize this is not the perfect analogy because in another 9 months, it will decay to 2 hours. This is fairly accurate, but not exact.<br />
<br />
Other half life aspects could be anticipated if one sat down to think about them.<br />
<br />
At dinner, instead of finishing an entire warm meal, a parent will often only consume half of a warm meal, spending much of the time getting up to get napkins, find juice bottles, refill plate for children, return said children to the table, take crayons out of the hands of said children, getting tissues to wipe the noses of said children after said children have a particularly horrendous sneeze giving themselves a nose-based snotbeard that resembles something you would wear to a mucus-themed costume party if you were dressed as Jack Sparrow.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/haymansbeard/RrFjHaI8ajI/AAAAAAAAAHw/BxkFw7Wne2o/Jack+Sparrow+Large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/haymansbeard/RrFjHaI8ajI/AAAAAAAAAHw/BxkFw7Wne2o/Jack+Sparrow+Large.jpg" height="311" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The beads at the bottom would be peas and corn.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
By the time you return to the table to finish the second half of your meal, the warm butter has congealed and reminds you enough of your child's recent bout with facial "hair" that you decide not to eat it any more.<br />
<br />
A parent is able to watch half of a television show. What was the final clue that allowed Vince D'onofrio to catch the serial rapist and explain the plan in condescending, quiet disgust? YOU'LL NEVER KNOW! Your child needs help with putting diaper cream on her baby-doll.<br />
<br />
A parent is able to make half of a recipe because half of the ingredients have gone bad sitting in a fake kitchen and half of the needed utensils are scattered throughout the house. As much as I love a good scavenger hunt, I usually prefer the prize to be something better than a potato masher.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Fua3_FRlcDk/UOcp5wwAn0I/AAAAAAAAE5k/c49Zv8-eqBU/s1600/D7F70A4E-DE69-4DAF-A9E1-921F7E51B0CA.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Fua3_FRlcDk/UOcp5wwAn0I/AAAAAAAAE5k/c49Zv8-eqBU/s1600/D7F70A4E-DE69-4DAF-A9E1-921F7E51B0CA.PNG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This meal was prepared entirely with a lighter and two forks!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
A parent is able to complete half of the yard work before one of the tiny people in their charge decide they would like to play a game of "Will this fit in my mouth?" or "I can run faster than this car!"<br />
<br />
What I never anticipated, what I never even considered, was that my half life would extend to the bathroom.<br />
<br />
To clarify, I fully expected that there would be times when I would have to run out of the shower, shampoo still in my luxurious hair, water dripping down my chiseled abs, over my rock hard thighs to leave puddles on the floor as I chased a towel-thief naked through the house. I haven't experienced those times yet, but I try to hit the gym regularly so that I might soon.<br />
<br />
What I did not expect, however, was the feeling of being forced to stop mid-defecation because someone was either screaming in pain, or yelling that if I did not vacate the bathroom in the next 8 seconds, there was going to be a worse mess than I was prepared to clean.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">DENTAL FASHION EMERGENCY!!!</td></tr>
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<span id="goog_102782680"></span><span id="goog_102782681"></span><br />
Apparently, wanting to have a complete poop is too much to ask for.Justinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13309915942161862912noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6938047071732911236.post-44183333064901219892012-12-19T06:48:00.002-05:002012-12-19T06:48:27.254-05:00My Daughters, Not Safe EnoughWe tell them that there are no monsters.<br />
<br />
We tell them that there is nothing waiting for them in the darkness, that we will keep them safe. They come into our rooms in the night when they wake from a terrible dream, seeking comfort. We brush the hair out of their eyes and tell them "Hush. Everything is alright. There is nothing trying to get you."<br />
<br />
We read them story after story where the monsters turn out to be a coat rack with a funny hat, a stuffed bear sitting in a rocking chair, a tree branch blowing in the wind.<br />
<br />
On the rare occasions where the monsters are real in the sense that they are creatures with horns, sharp teeth, scary faces, claws, we always discover that they were simply misunderstood. They have a change of heart and end up saving the protagonist from a raging river, from falling from a tree, from being lonely.<br />
<br />
These are excellent stories with important lessons about friendship and tolerance. They help us to teach that the world is not such an awful place.<br />
<br />
We tell them that there are no monsters.<br />
<br />
But there are.<br />
<br />
They don't have horns or claws or live in caves or under bridges, or in dungeons, but they exist. The world is not the awful place that the media often makes it out to be, but it is dangerous. We do our best to protect them, physically, emotionally, mentally, socially, but there is no way to completely protect them.<br />
<br />
And we shouldn't be able to if there were. They need to be able to experience life and the only way to do that is with risk. A life without risk is no life, but we try to minimize it.<br />
<br />
When bad things happen in stories, it's easy to explain with backstory. We tell them that this happened because the monster was left alone and no one treated him nicely. We tell them that no one gave him a chance to be friends.<br />
<br />
The reality is much more terrifying and we have no way to explain it to them, or even to ourselves.<br />
<br />
Bad things happen and there isn't always a reason. Sometimes it's because people get sick, or were treated badly. But there isn't always a reason and we don't know how to handle chaos for the sake of chaos.<br />
<br />
Our reactions are rarely rational or expected, but in retrospect, they make perfect sense.<br />
<br />
On September 11, 2001, I was at college outside of Pittsburgh. When the news announced that the plane had gone down in Somerset, my mother was frantic in trying to reach me. The crash site was 100 miles from me and I couldn't understand why she was so upset that I hadn't picked up the phone or called her back any quicker. I chalked it up to parental paranoia and lack of geographic knowledge. I never understood why.<br />
<br />
On Friday, I understood so clearly that it hit me like a train.<br />
<br />
On my drive home from work after the shooting at Sandy Hook, there were hundreds of cars in the way. Every light was red. Even at green lights, people were taking their time. At four specific points, I found myself having to resist the urge to smash my car into those in front of me just to get home and hug my children.<br />
<br />
The shortest route between my house and Sandy Hook Elementary School is 404 miles. It wasn't far enough.<br />
<br />
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<br />Justinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13309915942161862912noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6938047071732911236.post-67368375916150209342012-12-14T08:46:00.001-05:002012-12-14T11:20:01.259-05:00My Daughters, Infected (Me Too!)A plague has descended upon my home.<br />
<br />
A pestilence so vile and vulgar that the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention in Atlanta have sent me a letter stating that, in accordance with the Public Safety Act of 2005, I must tent my home and place signs in my yard declaring it a quarantined site. They have even sent me a beautiful, high quality vinyl banner to hang on my door that reads "Abandon All Hope, Ye Who Enter Here!"<br />
<br />
What, pray tell, is the name of the sorrow and misery that now infests my domicile?<br />
<br />
The contagion goes by the name ... Dora! (bum <span style="font-size: x-small;">bum</span> BAAAAA)<br />
<br />
Woe unto us. WOE UNTO US! I thought I was a good father. I thought I was doing what was best for my children. I can only assume that Harper caught this ailment at day care and spread it to her sister.<br />
<br />
Symptoms in children will vary from those in adults. In children, symptoms include calling for Dora at all hours of the day, yelling nonsense word that sound like Spanish, but are not, and a burning desire to carry a backpack full of random items.<br />
<br />
In adults, the disease manifests in a more vicious way. All songs that the infected adult has ever known suddenly turn into insipid chanting about traveling from place to place, interspersed with random Spanish words. Years of membership in choirs, and the musical accumulation that accompanied them, flow out of the ears of said grown-ups and puddle on the floor, to quickly evaporate into the ether, never to be seen again.<br />
<br />
The infected adult will find themselves responding to normal questions in the vocal intonation of Swiper the Fox. (Aw, MAN!) They will find themselves, alone in the car, asking, and answering questions about destination (Where are we going? To the big red building where I work!) and wondering where the trumpet playing snails are for musical accompaniment. They will find themselves wondering where the mean old troll is, and what riddle they will have to answer, when entering the Turnpike.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Please. Spread awareness so that in the future, this horrid disease can be controlled and, hopefully one day, cured.<br />
<br />
Thank you for your attention. This message has been a service of Adults Against Terrible Kids Programming.<br />
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Justinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13309915942161862912noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6938047071732911236.post-79260665437235672622012-12-04T09:10:00.001-05:002012-12-04T09:10:23.055-05:00My Daughters Have a Crap DadI am an amazing father! Truly, it's inspiring!<br />
<br />
I am dedicated, loving, patient, creative, and fun!<br />
<br />
All of the above is true under the following conditions:<br />
1) The children are not hungry<br />
2) The children are not eating<br />
3) The children are not playing with playdough, markers, crayons, pretzels, crackers, etc.<br />
4) One of the children is asleep or elsewhere<br />
5) Sara is not home<br />
6) No one else is around<br />
7) The children are not tired<br />
8) The children are not overly stimulated<br />
9) The children want to read a book or play at the playground<br />
10) The children are strapped into a moving stroller or carseat<br />
<br />
When those things are true, I am a rockstar dad!!<br />
<br />
<br />
<i>(To clarify number 5, this is because when Sara is home,
the girls stick to her like glue and I might as well not be there. She
asks me to take one to give her a little bit of breathing room, but
unless I strap them down, they shoot right back to her like iron filings
to a magnet. It's only when she's not around that they care about me
in any way.)</i><br />
<br />
It's incredibly hard to be a good dad when you're as selfish as I am. I spend way too much time and energy trying to make myself happy and not enough trying to make my family happy. I recognize this and I am making efforts to change it. I could blame my job for my lack of patience with my kids, but in reality, I know it's all me.<br />
<br />
Luckily for me, I have two things going that help.<br />
<br />
The first is that my kids are way too cute to abandon at a truck stop. Just when I think I'm completely about to lose my patience, I watch them interact in a way that just melts my heart. The other day, I walked into the living room to find B wearing a pull-up like a hat, staring into space, pulling it on and off her head, as if trying to find the perfect fit.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2acGTmxVv9Y/UL35-3YpjmI/AAAAAAAAEis/RfRfn2jOMuk/s1600/9D586E32-4200-415B-B24B-83AE9E4C7AFC.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2acGTmxVv9Y/UL35-3YpjmI/AAAAAAAAEis/RfRfn2jOMuk/s1600/9D586E32-4200-415B-B24B-83AE9E4C7AFC.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Not...quite..."</td></tr>
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<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Much better!"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
During a bath, H got a hold of her rubber duck and began singing over and over. She picked the skit from Sesame Street where the jazz owl explains that if Ernie wants to play the sax, he is going to have to make the choice to put his rubber ducky down.<br />
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<br />
<br />
All cares disappear and I have to hug and kiss them until they punch me in the throat, or give out a high-pitched scream that threatens to shatter my windows.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No parental abandonment THIS week</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The second is that Sara is an amazing role model for me about what a kind, loving, patient parent should be. I watch how she interacts with the girls and I am not only baffled by how well she does it, but also confused by her enjoyment, even when they are being difficult. She seems to have endless patience, not just with their destructive antics, but also with my seeming inability to control my kids. I keep telling her that I'm awesome when she's not around. I can sit and read with the girls for hours. They help me make dinner with not TOO much of a mess. They help me clean up toys and, in nice weather, we have great time at the park!<br />
<br />
But when she's around, I might as well be a cardboard cutout for all the good I am at child-wrangling. I try to help by doing non-child related things, like making and cleaning up from dinner, doing laundry, picking up toys, etc. I know that from the moment she walks in the door until when I put B down for night, I will get minimal interaction with my children. And I don't blame them.<br />
<br />
No matter how good the burger may taste, you'll always choose the filet when it's available.<br />
<br />
The one consolation is that their aversion to me is so great that I am amazing at putting them down for the night, or for naps. They would rather sleep than be held by me any longer than necessary.<br />
<br />
So after a whole weekend apart, it was mom climbed in between the car seats and was dog-piled by crying children while dad unloaded the car.<br />
<br />
In addition to working on my patience for their behavior, or lack-there-of, I am working on my patience for their dismissal of me when Sara is around. It's not personal, but I need to work on remembering that.<br />
<br />
H and I had a great daddy-daughter day a few weeks ago and, in spite of their face, which I swear is entirely due to them being too cold, I had a great daddy-daughters day with both of them. The key seems to be getting them out of the house...<br />
<br />
...where they can't break my things.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Halloween was fun as well</td></tr>
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<br />Justinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13309915942161862912noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6938047071732911236.post-11249016550153993472012-11-24T08:48:00.001-05:002012-11-24T08:48:42.140-05:00A Letter to Rolling Thunder Skating CenterThis post has nothing to do with parenting, but this is the vehicle that I have at my disposal to spread the word. Please share it with people who skate, and/or live in the Philadelphia area.<br />
<br />
Last night, Sara and I, with the urge to skate, went to a rink in Philly where I grew up skating. The experience is summed up in the following letter that I wrote to the management, because I'm a good liberal and writing letters is what we do.<br />
<br />
<i>I grew up in the Philadelphia area and remember skating at WOW when I was younger. When my wife and I came to town for the Thanksgiving weekend, I was pleased to see that you had reopened and we came out to skate last night. My wife and I are both members of the Westmoreland Roller Derby League and skate several times a week, she as a derby girl and myself as a referee. The idea of being able to skate while on vacation made us both very happy.</i><br />
<br />
I am saddened to say that it was, by far, the worst skating experience that I have ever had. With one disconnected young woman at the check-in counter, it took her 12 minutes to get 2 groups of people in and paid for. She seemed to have no interest in customer service whatsoever, nor did any of the managers who walked past, saw the line out the door and their employee moving at a snails' pace, and did nothing.<br />
<br />
After we paid, which seemed unnecessary since no one was taking tickets or looking for bracelets, we wove our way through the massive crowd, put our shoes in a locker and attempted to make our way to the rink. I say attempted because there was a clot of people blocking both the single entrance and the single exit.<br />
<br />
Finally reaching the rink, we discovered what could only be described as rolling anarchy. Children and adults alike were skating in whatever direction they chose, backwards as well as straight across, with no regard to order or the safety of other skaters. People who fell on the track were left to their own devices as people fell over them, rolling away and spreading out in a widening pool of bodies.<br />
<br />
There were multiple people on the ring without skates, some of whom were parents walking with their inexperienced children, but several of whom were older children and young adults, seemingly out for a stroll, many of whom were eating snacks and dropping things on the rink, making themselves and their meals a hazard to everyone around them.<br />
<br />
With all of this taking place, we saw just one staff member on the rink and it was, apparently, not his job to keep people moving or safe. It was, apparently, his job to help beautiful women back to their feet. Repeatedly, he skated past the people wandering the rink without skates, saying nothing about how dangerous that activity was. Repeatedly, he skated past the young man who decided that he liked the song being played by the DJ and thought it would be a good idea to stop skating and dance in the middle of the rink, forcing people to skate around him. Repeatedly, he skated past downed skaters, including small, screaming, crying children, without a thought of helping them up.<br />
<br />
After 10 minutes, my anxiety was so high that we were forced to leave. When we went back to the lockers to get our shoes, we were forced to slowly pick our way across a floor littered with discarded skates. Without having a policy of making your patrons trade shoes for skates, there was no incentive for anyone to return their skates, and so left them scattered wherever they fell, once again, creating a hazard for everyone else. Your staff appeared to accustomed to this policy as we saw a young man pushing a shopping cart, collecting skates and returning them to the rental counter.<br />
<br />
At that point, we left and drove up to The Palace Skating Rink and enjoyed a well-lit, organized, and safe remainder of the evening.<br />
<br />
This experience has so soured me to your establishment that I will never return. I understand that I am one person who lives far away and my lack of attendance will not hurt your bottom line. You clearly are doing something right as the building was packed solid with people who appeared to be enjoying themselves. I have no illusions about how my boycott of Rolling Thunder will cause you to lose sleep.<br />
<br />
My complaint is not that your establishment was not fun, although it wasn't. My complaint is that the level of danger involved for skaters and non-skaters alike was so high that my conscience will not allow me to let it go uncommented.<br />
<br />
I write this letter merely to relay my experience and to express my utter disappointment. I will be posting this letter here as well as on the website for our derby league.<br />
<br />
<br />
Rolling Thunder (Please excuse my shoddy cinematography)<br />
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<br />
<br />
The Palace (Please notice the difference)<br />
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<br />Justinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13309915942161862912noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6938047071732911236.post-74767903657259724712012-11-14T14:23:00.002-05:002012-11-14T16:11:22.204-05:00My Daughter, Dentally UnsoundA few weeks ago, we noticed a black spot on one of Harper's teeth. After weeks of trying to make an appointment with a pediatric dentist, we finally got one. Sara took her over and came back with news of what terrible parents we are. From Sara's telling of it that afternoon, the conversation went like this:<br />
<br />
Dr.: She has 300 cavities. We will need to pull all of her teeth, replace them with wooden nails and tiny railroad ties. We will also need to tattoo on her arm a warning to all other children not to go near her because they may catch Crappyparentitis.<br />
Sara: Oh no! What can we do to prevent this in the future?<br />
Dr.: I strongly suggest that you put your other child up for adoption before you and your husband accidentally kill her.<br />
<br />
She may have said that Harper has 4 cavities, two of which needed to be crowned, but I know what I heard.<br />
<br />
It was recommended that we use IV sedation to knock her out while the work was done. In the time it took my ears to hear this and register that this was probably a good idea, my mind filled with images of Harper screaming at the top of her lungs, bolted to a chair while Bela Lugosi slowly closes the door.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://madmikesamerica.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/08/bela.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://madmikesamerica.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/08/bela.jpg" height="175" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Show me your molars!"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
When I look around at people's teeth, it makes me wonder about causality, specifically the idea that correlation does not imply causality. I know that people don't visit the dentist as often as they should, as indicated by the retched state of the visual incisors, stained, chipped and rotting. When we called to make an appointment for Harper, and were told they might not be able to get her in until January, I wondered if there were a lack of dentists because demand was so low, or if people don't go because a two month wait to have a painful problem corrected is unreasonable.<br />
<br />
In any event, we managed to magically get her in yesterday. The office called as Sara was on her way to work to say "Be here in 10 minutes! You should have anticipated the fact that we don't care about your schedule at all!"<br />
<br />
She did well and got her teeth fixed with a minimum of fuss. Meanwhile, I was being a good liberal and trying to learn all I could about the issue. I learned that 40% of children under the age of 5 have multiple cavities and it usually is not the fault of the parents. Parents out there will note how difficult it is to brush the teeth of an unwilling child.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bdEJx4xWvhY/TDXovHZxPvI/AAAAAAAAAOI/RCaqa6e6Zhs/s640/25440_380854352035_708807035_4001494_529936_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bdEJx4xWvhY/TDXovHZxPvI/AAAAAAAAAOI/RCaqa6e6Zhs/s640/25440_380854352035_708807035_4001494_529936_n.jpg" height="233" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"I won't let you put on my shoes. What makes you think I'll let you in my mouth??"</td></tr>
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<br />
We had her on soup and light liquid yesterday so the anesthesia wouldn't make her sick. Today, I sent Brynn to day care and stayed home with Harper.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-82NqBTzPZCg/UKPp9ysM4OI/AAAAAAAAEH4/wobcpgGerPQ/s1600/iPhone+401.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-82NqBTzPZCg/UKPp9ysM4OI/AAAAAAAAEH4/wobcpgGerPQ/s1600/iPhone+401.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This was my hope for the day.</td></tr>
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As I was getting lunch ready, I put the baby carrier on the sofa and went out to the kitchen. I turned around just in time to see that Brynn had crawled into the carrier and was rocking it off couch. I managed to get there and grab the carrier just in time to cause more damage to my kid by grabbing the edge and causing her to slam her face on the handle.<br />
<br />
Go me!<br />
<br />
I managed to get her to school without any more issues.<br />
<br />
Harper and I went over to the park and played for a total of 8 minutes until she got too cold. Then we went to Barnes and Noble where Harper sat and played with Lego, building buildings and houses and towers. Then she decided that she wanted to play with the trains, so we did that.<br />
<br />
In the mean time, I got a frantic call from the day care. I am, apparently, not only a crappy parent in terms of dental hygiene, but also in terms of responsibility towards other adults. When I dropped Brynn off, I had apparently neglected to tell them that Harper would not be staying. After 15 minutes of turning the place upside down and not finding her, they called to ask me if she were spending the day with me.<br />
<br />
How many heart attacks can I cause in one day?<br />
<br />
I bought a book for her, another for me to read to the girls and a book for me. She didn't want to wait to read it.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The unicorn king is named Unicornio. Really.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
This was followed by lunch at Panera and now her napping while I try to remember all of the things I wanted to write here including all of the jokes and references that I missed.<br />
<br />
Let me once again, reiterate what a terrible parent I am in the form of a list of things that have happened over the past week or so.<br />
<br />
1) I let me 3 year old get multiple cavities so badly that she needed crowns<br />
2) I watched as my 1 and a half year old jumped off the sofa and smashed her head into the air return, giving herself a giant goose egg and an ugly cut<br />
3) I let my 1 and a half year old climb into a plastic death cage and roll herself off the couch<br />
4) I grabbed said plastic death cage and hurt said child worse than if I had just left her alone.<br />
5) I forgot to tell the caretakers of my children that one was not going to be there, causing panic<br />
6) I also slammed Brynn's fingers in a drawer last night.<br />
<br />
I'm going to spend the afternoon wallowing in my own self-pity and watching TV. I expect around 4, I'll realize that kids are pretty accident prone and these things happen.<br />
<br />
Then I'll just be happy that I got to spend a really great day with my daughter!<br />
<br />
You know what? Forget the self-pity! Today was great and I'm glad I got to hang with her!<br />
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<br />Justinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13309915942161862912noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6938047071732911236.post-11424864935887895972012-10-23T12:08:00.000-04:002012-10-23T12:08:41.292-04:00My Daughters, Only Vaguely Related To This PostWhen I became old enough to have and go to sleepovers, I did so with a frequency that would make one wonder about the stability and safety of my home life. It wasn't that I didn't like being at home, or that I didn't like own bedroom. I have always been a very social person. Sara and I have had many discussions about how I have social needs beyond family life. She is usually content to spend the weekend with the kids, seeing her parents, or visiting with relatives.<br />
<br />
I am not.<br />
<br />
I like all of those people just fine, but I need more social interaction than that. I need to be with friends very often. I think this may be why I spend so much time on Facebook, but that's a post for another time.<br />
<br />
In any event, I went to a ton of sleepovers. I practically had a bag packed at all times in the event that the phone would ring and the following conversation would occur:<br />
<br />
**RI...** (I never let it get past the first chirp)<br />
Me: Hello?<br />
Awesome Kid From School: Hey Justin! This is (Awesome Kid From School)! I just got a new video game! Want to sleep over tonight and we can play it until we fall asleep in a bowl of popcorn?<br />
Me: DO I??? You bet!<br />
<br />
<i>Author's Note: This never happened</i><br />
<br />
I did get invited to sleep over at a friends house every other weekend or so.<i> </i>It didn't happen as often as I wanted for two main reasons. The first reason is that "as often as I wanted" was every night. I would have been happy to be picked up from the house of Friend A on Saturday morning, go home, get fresh clothes and head over to Friend B's house to sleep over for Saturday night.<br />
<br />
Unrealistic? Maybe. Awesome plan? No doubt!<br />
<br />
The second reason was that most of my friends were girls. This was due to a misguided section of my brain, lovingly raised and taught by movies and TV shows, that firmly believed that the best way to a woman's heart, or at least to second base, was to be her friend.<br />
<br />
If the friend zone were on FourSquare, and if FourSquare had existed in 1995, I would have solidly been the mayor with absolutely no fear of being ousted.<br />
<br />
<br />Of all of the places that I remember sleeping over, there is one that sticks out in my mind more than any other. I can remember no place more fun than staying at my friend Bryan's house. He always had the coolest toys and video games and his parents are fantastic. I stayed there so much that even to this day, I call his mother "Mom." He collected the kinds of toys that were awesome and made it tough to sleep. Not so much the batman figures, but he had a whole wall in his room covered in Alien and Predator toys that were staring at me all the time, wondering at the identity of this interloper in their midst.<br />
<br />
Even at a young age, I was always an early riser. It didn't seem to matter what time I went to sleep, I was always up at 6:30 or 7. This posed a problem as he would be fine sleeping in until 9 or 10.<br />
<br />
When I stayed at his house, I knew that I would be up, staring at the ceiling for a few hours before he got up. Occasionally, I would bring a book so I had something to read, but more often, I would lay there for a while, praying for a priceless vase from the Ming Dynasty to fall off of a shelf in the living room, or for a cat to come in and pounce on Bryan. Then he would wake up and say "Man, it's so early. I won't be able to go back to sleep. Let's do something awesome!"<br />
<br />
And we would!<br />
<br />
On occasions more rare than hen's teeth, I would gather up the courage to be rude enough to fake sneeze and then quick close my eyes, hoping that my allergies would have the same effect as the Ming vase or the errant cat.<br />
<br />
I can't remember a single time when that worked.<br />
<br />
I tried to be a good house guest and a good roommate, partly because I was raised to be those things, but mostly because I wanted to be invited back!<br />
<br />
<br />
The girls have been sharing a room for a few months now and, for the most part, they are good roommates. They do go through each others drawers every once in a while, but Brynn sleeps in her bed and Harper sleeps in hers.<br />
<br />
However, as with every roommate relationship, each party has a trait that, if left unattended to, will bring about the decline of the relationship, forcing it into the downward spiral which culminates in one person putting sardines inside the pillowcase of the other in retaliation for replacing the toothpaste with caulk.<br />
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Since both the pillowcase and toothpaste belong to me, I would prefer to avoid this.<br />
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Harper's bad roommate trait is that she has a tendency to yell very loudly in the room when she needs something. Call me crazy, but I thought part of the reason we got her a big girl bed was so that she could come and get us when she needed us.<br />
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As much as I hate that once a week, I look over to see a tiny silhouette standing in my doorway, inducing panic, fear and visions of a zombie apocalypse, I would prefer that to having her wake her sister at 3am.<br />
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Brynn's bad roommate trait is that she is the toddler equivalent of the guy on the top bunk. If you've never lived at college with bunk beds, allow me to illustrate.<br />
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Picture that you are sleeping, dreaming of a beautiful woman who only has eyes for you. In your dream, she asks you to curl up next to her on the couch and cuddle while you watch a Ridley Scott film. In reality, you turn on your side, making the slightest of noises as the bed springs readjust beneath your shifting weight. You hear another slight noise, and open your eyes to discover the upside down face of your bunk mate mere inches from your nose. He has a concerned look on his face, or at least it seems so since emotions are hard to identify while upside down. "Hey, buddy! Everything alright? I heard a noise and wanted to check on you! Since you're up, let's play a game! First, I'll think of a state and you try to guess it by guessing the state bird! Ready? GO!"<br />
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No, this is not a conversation I ever had in college. My roommate, two weeks into the semester decided he was too lazy to climb to the top bunk and slept on the couch instead.<br />
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Brynn is this way in that, at the slightest noise in the room, she stands up in her crib, even from a dead sleep, and peers around the room, wanting to be a part of whatever is happening.<br />
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Gift giving holidays are coming and, while I have posted many times about how I don't want gifts, I think that if someone felt compelled to buy me anything, I wouldn't turn down bed straps for Brynn and a night gag for Harper.<br />
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Impromptu Survey: How many of my readers have put Child Protective Services on speed dial?<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">If I put her in a cage at home, I'd go to jail. Justice? I don't think so!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Maybe I can just get Brynn to sleep in the sink.</td></tr>
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<br />Justinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13309915942161862912noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6938047071732911236.post-54687494104772610712012-09-25T15:55:00.001-04:002012-09-25T15:55:05.405-04:00My Daughter, In A Bed<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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A few weeks ago, we decided that it was time for Harper to be out of her crib. She was climbing out anyway and doing so in a fashion that lead us to believe that she might take a 4 foot drop in the dark in the middle of the night.<br />
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For those of you unfamiliar with the experience, there is almost nothing more horrifying than being woken from a dead sleep by the bloodcurdling cries of a person who is reaping the direct consequences of their actions. This applies both to college students waking up in an unfamiliar bed and rolling over only to discover that they spent the evening with someone who was excommunicated from the Addams' family for being too weird, as well as to toddlers who have fallen out of a crib in an ill-conceived attempt to visit mommy in the middle of the night.<br />
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They never want to visit daddy.<br />
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The toddlers, or the college students.<br />
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So we did away with the crib, but without another bed, we put her mattress on the floor. It worked well because she didn't have anywhere to fall, but there were some unforeseen consequences, namely that our lovely, precious gem would not so much sleep-walk, as much as sleep-do-the-worm, all around her room, into the living room, etc.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She made herself a nest</td></tr>
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It was a constant game of "Where is Harper sleeping now?" that you hoped wouldn't be answered by a small hand under your foot, followed by screaming and/or teeth in your leg. Our house began to resemble a beach infested with very well-disguised stingrays.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This, but with babies.</td></tr>
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In any event, we searched for a while and discussed the merits of the different types of beds. In the end, we decided on a regular bed, rather than a toddler bed because we would eventually need a bigger bed anyway. We decided on a bunk bed so that when Brynn is big enough for a regular bed, we could save some room.<br />
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Through the amazing generosity of Sara's aunt and mother, we ordered the bed we wanted and waited the week for it to show up at the store. We presented our online receipt to the clerk, who managed to rouse herself long enough to call for assistance in moving the rather large and awkward box out to the car.<br />
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The elderly man who showed up with a rolling cart was nice enough but decided he would need some help getting the box onto the car. I couldn't help him because he informed us that they had no string or twine with which to tie the box to the roof and as a result, I had to go and purchase bungee chords. How convenient it was for me that they sold them in the store.<br />
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When I get out to the car where they are waiting, I find the elderly man and a younger guy in his early twenties. The two of them being their attempt to load the box onto the roof. This consisted of the older man calmly holding the bottom of the box while the younger guy slipped a disc, had a hernia, sweated enough to fill a swimming pool and grunted in a fashion that should have brought wild boars in heat from a 300 mile radius.<br />
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We get the box onto the roof, get it home, and get it into the house. I love putting things together, so I started at it. For the first half hour, Sara was very helpfully on the phone leaving the girls to be very helpful themselves. When I finally put a stop to that, I managed to assemble the bottom bunk, placing the material for the top bunk in the attic to await the time when Brynn as well needed a bed that 50 times too big for her.<br />
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I put my tools away, clean up the room, and go and get Sara. I wanted to show off the bed that I put together. I wanted to show her the sweat and love and energy that I put into making my daughter's life that much better, nicer, etc. I was proud.<br />
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"Where are the rails?"<br />
"...They are on the top bunk."<br />
"Oh. I thought you were putting the top bunk together."<br />
"...no."<br />
"Oh. It looks great! I love you!"<br />
**scowl**<br />
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When I got home from work the next day, I disassembled the bed, took the pieces upstairs, brought the other pieces down and assembled the second bed. I am proud of that one too.<br />
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Harper loves it and sleeps in it, rather than wandering the house at night like the vengeful spirit of a departed disco dancer.<br />
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I would much rather she be the vengeful spirit of a departed Carlton.<br />
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<br />Justinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13309915942161862912noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6938047071732911236.post-5345586838596086072012-09-18T13:32:00.001-04:002012-09-18T13:32:51.285-04:00My Daughter, Starving HerselfI've been thinking about food an awful lot lately.<br />
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I've started making a concerted effort to become a bit more healthy. I've been running at the gym and a little bit outside, both with mixed success. I have a short-term goal of running a 5k at the end of October, with a long-term goal of a half marathon during the summer.<br />
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So far, I've been very good about going to the gym regularly. I've been running every other day and doing circuit training or other activity on the off days. On Sundays, we have derby practice, but if it's a run day, that gets done too.<br />
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I've been very pleased with myself and my friends and family have been very supportive. I even created a <a href="http://www,facebook.com/fattofitjustin" target="_blank">Facebook page</a> to keep track of what I've been up to and hopefully the public humiliation/encouragement will help me even more.<br />
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As far activity goes, I think I'm doing alright. The key now, is food.<br />
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Why does it have to taste so good?? I am beginning to think that there is a vast conspiracy that make vegetables and healthy food taste like feet. I do like to make grilled veggies and I love a good salad, provided it's covered in cheese and bacon bits.<br />
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That's at least three food groups, right? Salsa and nachos covers four! (Tomatoes are legally a fruit!)<br />
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Five, if you get them with meat!<br />
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My other main issue is quantity. I know that it's ok to eat bad food as long as it's in moderation but, seriously, who wants moderation when you have freshly made pumpkin caramel cheesecake?<br />
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When we make homemade pizza, why wouldn't I want 6 slices??<br />
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Portion control is something I do not do well. I'm working on it though.<br />
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Why is this in a parenting blog? Somehow, this has to be related to kids, right?<br />
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Harper has moved into happily being a picky eater, the kind of picky eater that makes me insane.<br />
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She won't eat. At least, she won't eat at a speed that prevents mold from growing on her meals. She jumps down from the table with the attention span and energy of a squirrel. I have been having lots of trouble at meals because I need slightly more order than that. By the end of the meal, there is usually more food on her plate than when she started.<br />
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This is because her food was given the time to grow, gain sentience, breed and raise multiple generations of baby chicken noodle soups, all in miniature bowls.<br />
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She also randomly decides that she doesn't like certain foods. Conversations go like this:<br />
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Me: Harper, what would you like for lunch?<br />
H: Pizza!<br />
Me: Alright. Let me warm it up for you.<br />
**2 minutes later**<br />
Me: Here's your lunch, babe.<br />
H: I don't like pizza!<br />
Me: ...You love pizza. You would eat it at every meal if I let you!<br />
H: NOOOOO!! No pizza! I don't like it! I want soup!<br />
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At this point, another, perhaps better, parent would make her soup, followed by the next thing she asked for. <br />
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But I am not that parent.<br />
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Brynn has been doing well, so my lofty goal is as follows:<br />
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I will take all the food I want and all the food that Harper wants to eat, put it all on a plate and split it in half.<br />
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Realistically, I should just eat half the food that I do...Justinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13309915942161862912noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6938047071732911236.post-23017471006218398342012-09-04T10:20:00.002-04:002012-09-04T10:20:34.712-04:00My Daughters, Not Working For SertaHave I mentioned lately that I love my children?<br />
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Perhaps I should take this opportunity to do it again.<br />
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I love my children.<br />
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They help me in more ways than I can count, but I will attempt to list a few.<br />
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Cute kids make it worth it to come home from work. After a rough day of counter-productivity and indifference, it is wonderful to come home to the following conversation:<br />
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Harper: "Daddy, you're a good guy!"<br />
Me: "Why is that?"<br />
Harper: "Because you make me happy!"<br />
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How could I possibly ask for more than that?<br />
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They are an inspiration in that I want to be able to keep up with them in all aspects of life. They can run for hours and not even understand that frantic panting means they should stop. I've set a goal for myself to run a 5k in about 6-7 weeks and a half marathon next summer. I have no idea how realistic these goals are, but I've been sticking with my training schedule and we'll see how it goes.<br />
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They also inspire me to get a higher paying job so I can buy a bigger house where they can each have their own rooms FAAAAAAAAAR away from me.<br />
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Sara and I had a derby bout this weekend so the girls went to their grandparents. Saturday night and into Sunday morning was some of the most restful sleep that I have had in months. There were no mysterious feet pushing me out of bed at 3am. There was no waking up to the sound of screaming at 1:30 only to discover than both girls were back to sleep by the time I went over to check on them.<br />
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There was no one pulling my nose hairs at 6:30am in an attempt to get me to put Babar on.<br />
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The girls are tiring enough when they are awake, I don't know why they also have to be so difficult when they are sleeping. I still feel that I have less need for sleep than Sara does, so when I hear the girls, I try to get up and get them before she does. Sometimes it works, sometimes not.<br />
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It really should be the other way around since it seems as though she can fall back to sleep faster than it takes me to wonder why I'm up at such an ungodly hour.<br />
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Don't let the pictures mislead you. These children are devious, energetic, frantic and insane.<br />
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When we first had Harper, we had cats. A good friend told me that we needed to get rid of the cats because cats steal the breath from sleeping babies.<br />
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If we had cats now, they wouldn't have the chance. I hate camping, but I'm thinking I can convince a 1-year old and a 2-year old that camping is awesome and they should do it all the time. I'll even set up a tent for them in the basement.<br />
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You see what a nice, kind, selfless guy I am? I would even set up the tent for them.Justinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13309915942161862912noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6938047071732911236.post-33239972040677249242012-08-20T13:44:00.003-04:002012-08-20T13:44:58.408-04:00My Daughters, On VacationYesterday, we returned home from several days at the beach. This was Harper's second trip and Brynn's first. Rather than give a blow-by-blow of the activities, which would be amazingly boring for anyone who doesn't have my last name, and probably pretty boring for them, I will simply write a few of the lessons that I learned along the way and, of course, post some adorable pictures.<br />
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The first lesson is that no place is child-proofed as much you would like. A nice home filled with memories of your own childhood are also filled with tiny shells and spice canisters at knee-level, all of which your own children will find and destroy with reckless abandon and complete disregard for your own upbringing.<br />
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Another important thing to know is that you can't possibly clean enough sand off of your kids to make them happy. They will manage to stuff granules into crevices that you didn't even know existed. If you put said child in the washing machine for 3 weeks, they will still have sand in their hair. <br />
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The most important lesson, however, of this past week is the fact that the job of the person taking pictures is not to chronicle the vacation, but to provide the rosy picture of what the vacation is supposed to be, whether or not it happened. This is not to say that one should use the camera to lie, but rather to avoid the unpleasant realities that exist when traveling with children.<br />
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The following is a list of things that were not recorded on the digital record:<br />
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Children up at 3am for no reason.<br />
Children screaming for their mother to carry them at all times.<br />
Children falling and biting their lips, bleeding.<br />
Harper standing on the beach, refusing to move until Sara picks her up.<br />
Brynn climbing off the porch, running down the street, laughing as we chase her.<br />
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None of these things are important. What's important is the record of happy times that we all had at the beach. In 20 years, none of us will remember that I was ready to come home within 10 minutes of being there.<br />
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What we will remember is the collection of smiling pictures that I took, the sunrise that I watched with Harper when she got up at 5am, for no reason and bobbing in the ocean, holding my laughing daughter.<br />
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<br />Justinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13309915942161862912noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6938047071732911236.post-87010460636126864132012-08-10T08:35:00.001-04:002012-08-10T08:35:29.051-04:00My Daughter, Did Not Check Herself...... and, therefore, wrecked herself.<br />
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Perhaps you will recall <a href="http://mraion.blogspot.com/2011/04/my-daughter-religious-zealot.html" target="_blank">some of my</a> <a href="http://mraion.blogspot.com/2011/04/my-daughter-proving-my-point.html" target="_blank">previous posts about</a> <a href="http://mraion.blogspot.com/2012/03/my-daughters-hazards-to-themselves.html" target="_blank">how my kids are a danger to themselves.</a><br />
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Yesterday, Brynn decided that the blood pressure of her parents wasn't high enough. As Sara was walking to the baby room at day care, she heard a crying that, without doubt, emanated from our younger offspring.<br />
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The child had foolishly walked over a pillow and fallen wrong, giving herself a green stick fracture in her left distal radius. The day care was, rightly, horrified.<br />
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Sara took her to the hospital to get an XRay, which I hear is not fun to try to take from a 1-year-old. They hooked her up with a brace and an ace bandage that will look great at derby practice.<br />
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Other than trying to pull off the bandage, she's in a great mood and slept well last night. We have an appointment on Tuesday to cast the tiny arm up and I'm going to put up a Kickstarter for a college fund with contribution rewards that will be things for her to hit with the cast. For a $200 contribution, Brynn will come to your house and awkwardly try to pet your animals. For a $1000 contribution, she will follow you down the street crying while you tell people how tough you are for beating up a toddler. For a $10,000 contribution, you can carry her around and tell hot chicks at the bar how you saved her from a car wreck.<br />
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The possibilities are endless.<br />
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Because I am an awful person and a pretty bad father, I find it vindicating that the first major injury is not a result of my roughhousing with the girls, as many people stated it would be, but rather from the excessive use of pillows.<br />
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Take that, Bed, Bath & Beyond!Justinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13309915942161862912noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6938047071732911236.post-27769898682002480852012-08-07T11:26:00.003-04:002012-08-07T11:26:59.198-04:00My Daughters, Extraterrestrial VisitorsI am hiding from my children.<br />
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I went to the gym this morning, then went home, hot a shower, picked up the laptop and came over to Barnes and Noble because that have free wifi and are away from my children.<br />
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I love my girls. I really do.<br />
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But sometimes you just have to get away. Any parent who says otherwise is a liar, or mentally unbalanced to the point where they shouldn't be a parent.<br />
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Anyone who tries to guilt a parent into feeling bad about wanting to spend time away from their children is a bad influence, needs a week in a locked room with a hungry howler monkey and should then spend recess writing "I will not tell people what to do with their howler monkeys" 500 times on the blackboard.<br />
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Imagine for a moment that Obama breaks into the latest episode of "Toddlers and Tiaras" with the important announcement that we have made contact with an extraterrestrial species. This species does, in fact, come in peace and wishes to learn everything they can about our society. As part of the treaty, and in exchange for the secret of, I don't know, delicious tasting healthy food, about a third of the households in the country will, at any given time, be host to a visitor who will observe and interact with human beings. Hosting one or more of these beings in entirely voluntary but it is the responsibility of the host family to teach this creature what it means to be human.<br />
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Now imagine that these creatures possess two very important qualities. The first in physiological. Instead of arms and hands, the visitors extremities are composed entirely of a mildly adhesive, semi-gelatinous substance.<br />
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Their limbs contain no bones or muscles of any kind. When the creatures spin around, their arms and legs go flying in all directions, as dictated by momentum, involuntarily attaching to whatever objects they happen to encounter, tearing said objects from their rightful place and flinging them into the least convenient spaces available.<br />
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The second quality that the visitors posses in language. We know from extensive study that they will, after years of study, be able to communicate using human language. When they arrive at the host family home, they speak no English and communicate only in their native tongue, a high-pitched screaming that, when spoken properly, shatters glass and leaves the human ear drum a shredded wreck of anatomy. The visitors are physically unable to communicate in any other way for the first several years, regardless of how extreme or mundane the situation may be.<br />
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In case you were a little slow to pick up the allegory, this is what it is like to parent a toddler. No parent should ever be made to feel guilty for wanting some time away. It's nothing personal, toddlers. It's just that you are Ace Ventura and sometimes, parents just need some double-paned soundproof glass!</div>
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<i>Author's Note: This article is crossposted to <a href="http://www.lifeofdad.com/" target="_blank">Life of Dad</a></i>Justinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13309915942161862912noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6938047071732911236.post-53863219891126358512012-08-02T08:31:00.001-04:002012-08-02T08:31:51.736-04:00My Daughters, The SwingersWe have been trying for weeks to teach Harper how to swing on a swing. It turns out that trying to explain front/back coordination and timing are not as easy as I think it should be.<br />
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I suddenly realize how lucky it is that we don't have to try to teach children how to breathe, or swallow, or blink.<br />
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Thank goodness for the autonomic system!<br />
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At this point, Brynn couldn't care less! She's very happy sitting in the swing and being pushed for hours.<br />
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Literally...<br />
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Harper, on the other hand, can be a bit impatient, an unheard of quality in my family. She, too, wants to be pushed on the swing, but doesn't want to wait her turn. She hasn't yet mastered the art of swinging, so she managed yesterday to satisfy her needs in other ways.<br />
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My daughter is thinking outside the box! I win at parenting!</div>
<br />Justinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13309915942161862912noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6938047071732911236.post-10145956396525752092012-07-31T07:44:00.001-04:002012-07-31T07:58:34.612-04:00My Daughter, Disregarding My FeelingsWARNING: The following post contains more information than you want.<br />
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Last night, after derby practice, Sara and I brought the cranky, tired bundles of cute who live in our house home and attempted to put them to sleep. After Brynn was down, Sara lay on the couch with Harper while I washed off the glorious stench of exertion and public humiliation that is the act of wearing sleeveless shirts and flailing about on skates in front of an audience.<br />
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Upon completion of my shower, I emerged clean, pleasant smelling and in my underwear. I sat down on the couch next to my lovely wife and eldest daughter and the following conversation occurred:<br />
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<b>Harper:</b> Daddy? Undermeese? (Still haven't figured out how to say "pants")<br />
<b>Me: </b>Yes, baby. I took a shower and now I'm ready for bed.<br />
<b>H:</b> You have no shirt on?<br />
<b>Me:</b> No, baby. I'm not wearing a shirt.<br />
<b>H:</b> You put shirt on now?<br />
<b>Me:</b> No, I'm going to bed soon so I'm not putting a shirt on.<br />
<b>H:</b> You put shirt on now. (no longer a question)<br />
<b>Me:</b> Alright. I'll get a shirt in a bit.<br />
<b>H:</b> Go! Get shirt!<br />
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Everyone's a critic! I can't say she was wrong...Justinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13309915942161862912noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6938047071732911236.post-40303344430479347702012-07-23T11:31:00.001-04:002012-07-23T11:31:24.058-04:00My Daughters, With No Body Issues (Yet)<span style="background-color: white;">I have many issues, not the least of which is a terrible body image, stemming from the terrible image made by my body.</span><br />
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Part of it is the fact that I like salads, provided they can easily mistaken for bacon cheeseburgers or nacho platters. When given the choice of chicken or fish, I almost always choose cheesecake.<br />
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Another part of it is the fact that Robin Williams and I are descended from the same gorilla. For both of us, when we take our shirts off, no one can tell.<br />
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<span style="background-color: white;">I believe that people can be beautiful regardless of how big or small they all. A fit woman can be a horrible person and that will make her ugly, while an obese woman can carry herself well, be confident and happy, and be the most beautiful person in the world. Part of this is knowing what you should and should not wear for your body type.</span><br />
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As a direct result of the information I have relayed here, I don't take my shirt off. Ever. I am usually tempted to shower with it on!</div>
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Nine months out of the year, this works out well for me. I had to give up my membership to the Polar Bear Club but I didn't mind that too much.</div>
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During the summer, however, I live, skirting the razor edge of my psyche between my desire to cool myself in the many bodies of water that spring up like wild mushrooms, and my desire not to spend the night in prison for inflicting my pasty, fur covered torso on legions of innocent children.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Protip: Do not do a Google image search for "pale hairy man" while at work.</td></tr>
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This is something I REALLY need to get over so that I can go swimming with my girls. I want to teach them to swim and to love the water. So far, they are doing well but Sara can only hold both of them in the pool for so long.</div>
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Perhaps, I will continue to invest in kiddie pools...</div>
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Although, maybe not! Maybe I can just fill up the cooler with water...</div>
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In any event, it got me thinking about how much we miss out on with our children, and how much they miss, as a result of the crazy issues (mental, physical, dietary, religious, etc.) of the parents.</div>
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Oh well. Back to my regularly scheduled cringing at the messes made by my own kids.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sweet Jesus! That had better be chocolate!</td></tr>
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<br /></div>Justinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13309915942161862912noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6938047071732911236.post-64028118770701650132012-07-18T19:31:00.000-04:002012-07-18T20:07:37.064-04:00My Daughters, Getting Their Chicken ElsewhereI firmly feel that everyone has the right to believe whatever they want.<br />
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If you believe that the world was created in 7 days and that the omnipotent creator of the universe allowed his only son to be sacrificed to redeem the sins of humanity, good for you.<br />
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If you believe that a pantheon of gods and goddesses directly oversee many aspects of life on earth, such as seasons, tides, weather, the harvest and death, more power to you!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dear Gods, were They hot!</td></tr>
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If you believe that the universe was sneezed out of the nostril of a giant space goat, I suppose that's just as valid as any other theory. I'll come back to this.<br />
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Chick-fil-A is a restaurant where Sara and I take the kids when we don't want to cook, don't have any left-overs and don't feel like cleaning up. As far as fast food goes, it's the only place we go and there are several reasons for this, beyond the fact that McDonald's is disgusting.<br />
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The stores themselves are very family friendly, offering healthier choices in kids meals, such as apple sauce and white milk. Most of them have play places to keep children amused and, during the summers, several of the stores have people making balloon animals and doing face painting for children and very short adults.<br />
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This company has done many good things that are in line with conservative Christian dogma. While they are against abortions, they waged a vigorous campaign in favor of supporting adoption.<br />
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The company itself run the WinShape Foundation, which runs 11 homes spread throughout the Southeast United States that serve as foster homes for children who are "victims of circumstance and need a secure family environment."<br />
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If one were to boil down the teachings of Jesus to a simple idea, it would be to love and support everyone, especially those less fortunate. This aspect of the WinShape Foundation appears to be a wonderful example of people inspired by the teachings of Christ to do good in the world. Chick-fil-A should be applauded for this.<br />
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Today, I read <a href="http://www.ajc.com/news/chick-fil-a-president-1480243.html" target="_blank">an article</a> that states that the president of Chick-fil-A, Dan Cathy, told a Baptist web site that his company supports families as long as they are "the biblical definition of the family unit." This, in spite of the fact that the only "family" picture I could find on their site seems to be a single mother with her son.<br />
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Ignoring the idea that, in spite of what Mitt Romney says, companies are not people and cannot support anything, (only the people who run the companies can support things) I find this statement upsetting.<br />
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The rest of the WinShape Foundation time is spent on "enrichment retreats to refuel healthy marriages as well as counselling to help strengthen troubled marriages" and offering camps and courses to local young people to teach them the ways of Christ.<br />
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I won't go into the fact that Jesus never mentions homosexuality at all in the New Testament, or any of the contradicting rules that lie therein (oops). If Dan Cathy believes that homosexuals should not be allowed to marry, that allowing such would be shaking our fist at God and "inviting His judgement," then he is more than welcome to hold those beliefs.<br />
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If he wishes his company to stand for those values, then he may certainly take it in that direction.<br />
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I, however, will not be coming along for the ride. Neither will my children.<br />
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As a parent, I feel a major part of my job is to teach my children about the world, how to survive in it, and how to help others survive. I know that there is hatred and bigotry in the world. I know that intolerance exists and will always rear it's ugly head.<br />
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Many parents wish to shelter their children from the unpleasantness in the world. They don't want them to know suffering, or teasing, or hate, or fear. I think this is foolish and short-sighted. Rather than shelter my daughters from the awful things in the world, I hope to teach them that such things do exists, and how to cope.<br />
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No matter how a person lives their life, they will disliked, ridiculed, teased, taunted and abused. It is up to us to decide how we deal with adversity. Will we cower in the corner, shouting anger at the world that mistreated us, or will we stand up for ourselves and live the lives we want to live?<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Intolerance makes me sad!</td></tr>
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I want my children to know that there are people who are made uncomfortable by, dislike, or even outright hate people who are different than they are. This is simply a fact of life and everyone is entitled to their own opinions and prejudices.<br />
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Because of this, I will also be teaching my children that we do not have to support those who make decisions based on fear and anger. If Chick-fil-A wishes to oppose gay marriage as a corporate stand, they are allowed to do so.<br />
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I will not, however, use my money to support a company that makes decisions based on hatred, bigotry and intolerance. There are simply too many other places to spend my money.<br />
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While I strongly disagree with their stance, I will not scold them for having it. I will simply make the statement that they have lost me and my family as customers.<br />
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Continuing to support their business would be sending the wrong message to my children, whom I wish to grow up as tolerant and loving individuals.Justinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13309915942161862912noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6938047071732911236.post-26017209260149292772012-07-16T08:39:00.001-04:002012-07-16T08:39:18.408-04:00My Daughters, Derby OrphansQuick! Read this post before I go under again! This Stay At Home Dad thing has me a bit out of sorts.<br />
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Up to this point, every time I've sat down to right a post, one of three things has happened.<br />
1) The girls have woken up screaming about how badly they wish me to make them a snack from food items that we don't have.<br />
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2) Their quiet play has made me suspicious and I have gone off to find that they have redecorated my front porch with handfuls of birdseed flung about in a manner that would put Jackson Pollack to shame.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We call this piece "Paternal Anuerism!" It's an installation!</td></tr>
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3) I found a show of mild interest on Netflix or Hulu.<br />
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This past Friday was the premier bout for <a href="http://www.westcoderby.com/" target="_blank">Westco Derby</a>, the roller derby league that Sara joined and I am helping out with. We were expecting about 200 people to be in attendance to watch how the ladies have progressed over six months of practicing.<br />
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It was closer to 700. We had people in folding chairs, on the bleachers, and sitting on the floor to watch the girls race around and best each other in speed and blocking. The event was even filmed and will be aired on a local cable channel! At practice yesterday, we had nine new women who wanted to skate with us and two new men who wanted to ref.<br />
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When we began this thing in February, I wasn't sure where it was going to go, but I was very pleased that Sara was a part of it. Since then, I've become involved as well, helping out wherever I can, manning the booth at the local arts festival, skating with the girls at practice and learning to become a referee.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My wife can kick your wife's butt! Yes, that's a mohawk!</td></tr>
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I adore the people who are involved in it and they seem to like me too, which I find bizarre.<br />
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Perhaps it's just my chronic low self-esteem talking, but I find it very odd that I now have a few circles of friends who genuinely like me for who I am.<br />
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The bottleneck of my involvement with the league has been, as it is with everything not related to children, children! We've done what we can to get them involved too.<br />
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I am not losing sight of the fact that this is Sara's thing. I am so proud of her for the progress that she has made in her skating and how much she loves it and the people. For the most part, we are able to find sitters so that we can both go to practice, but when we can't, I take the kids. It's much more important that she be there than I. I recognize and accept that fact. I don't want to change it and I certainly won't take it from her, no matter what.<br />
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But I'll admit that I don't like it.<br />
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I love skating, even though I'm about as graceful on wheels as you would imagine I would be. I'm getting better, but I'm not anything close to good.<br />
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I love the group of people involved. I they are a very positive and supportive group and I know it rubs off on me. I know that after I've spent time with them, there is a little more sunshine in the world and colors seem a little more vivid. Having this be something that I share with Sara has brought us closer together and made us stronger as a couple.<br />
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This is where I get into how crazy I actually am.<br />
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Intellectually, I know that I need to be happy with myself and accept me for who I am not be dependent on others for my happiness. I'm not someone different when I'm with the derby people. I'm just a version of myself that I like more. It could be that, since I do like them so much, I'm on better behavior, not starting fights about religion or politics, and not making fun of anyone's lineage. I don't feel like I'm putting in any effort to that effect, but it could be that I'm trying to impress them.<br />
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It could be that the positive vibes that they exude are so strong that I am much more willing to shrug off the things that I don't like, or would prefer not to think about.<br />
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Whatever it is, it's something I need to identify and hold onto with both hands because I need to push away my dark clouds. No one can do it for me.<br />
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School starts again in a few weeks and I may be able to go back to more regular posts then. As much I would love this blog to be a daily, or semi-weekly, I don't want it to simply be a chronicle of my daily life.<br />
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I do promise that I will soon write a more comprehensive post about being a Stay-At-Home-Dad. This one went a bit off the rails on that front.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My excuses have bored her to sleep.</td></tr>
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<br />Justinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13309915942161862912noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6938047071732911236.post-12667884747375076952012-06-12T12:32:00.001-04:002012-06-12T12:32:43.670-04:00My Daughters, Tablets From SinaiAs I'm sure you all know, I am a <a href="http://mraion.blogspot.com/2010/10/my-daughter-victim-of-religious-freedom.html" target="_blank">deeply religious man</a>. I am constantly prostrating myself before the idol of irony, often involuntarily. I would like to offer up the Commandments by which I attempt to live and parent. I hope that they will be useful to you in your own spiritual journey through parenthood.<br />
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I will also state that I don't follow these nearly as often as I would like because I am a hypocrite and controlled by my emotions.<br />
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But I do try.<br />
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So, without further ado:<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><u>The Ten Commandments of Fatherhood</u></b></span></div>
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<b><u>1) Thou Shall Suspend Thy Sense of Shame</u></b></div>
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You don't have to do this. Really. It's totally cool if your child grows up without imagination and thinking that you think everything they do is stupid. It's important for kids to learn early that there is no tea in the toy tea pot and that Mr. Huggles doesn't walk around the house, crying, waiting anxiously for the child to get home from day care so that they can play together. To this end, make sure that you never let your kid watch any animated movies, or really anything that isn't a documentary. Even then, nothing from the History Channel. You don't want them thinking about alien contact, or Stonehenge.</div>
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Wait...</div>
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I think I have that backwards.</div>
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DO ALL OF THOSE THINGS! Creativity and imagination stimulate the brain and will give you smarter, more amazing children! You spent your life up to this point building up your street cred for the sole purpose of blowing it all to make your kids feel good and be happy!</div>
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Why do you care if the 70-year-old in the sporting goods section of Wal-Mart thinks that you're crazy because you're making the peanut butter beg your toddler not to eat it?</div>
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So what if you're wearing miss-matched socks, one sandal, one rain boot, a fishing hat, a flannel shirt and biking shorts to return some books to the library? It made your kid happy to pick out your clothes and, to be honest, I've seen your reading list. When you take those books back, your wardrobe will be the least of your concerns. (Side note: Checking out <u>Fifty Shades of Gray</u> at the same time as <u>A Brief History of the Whip</u> and anything by Mercer Meyer will get you funny looks no matter what you're wearing.)</div>
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<u><b>2) Thou Shall Abandon All Plans</b></u></div>
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They won't get done. <a href="http://mraion.blogspot.com/2012/04/my-daughters-without-watches.html" target="_blank">Kids don't care about your schedule.</a> They are no respecters of quartz-run Swedish time pieces, or atomic clocks. They REALLY don't care what time the movie starts or when your reservations are for. On the contrary! They will save a massive diaper bomb all day in anticipation of your running just slightly late. They know that your wife will spend an extra three minutes chatting with the babysitter and they plan for it.</div>
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At the 2:37 mark, they will unleash a torrent of unpleasantness that would have Andy Dufresne crawling back into his cell. They also know that your wife will feel terrible leaving this crotch-strapped sack of unholy passive-aggression for the babysitter to deal with (even though that's part of what you pay them for...)</div>
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You are left with two options at this point:</div>
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1) Lie to everyone! If the movie starts at 8, tell them it starts at 7:30. If the reservations are at 7, tell them that the kitchen closes at 6. Build a buffer into your plans. A buffer of lies and deceit.</div>
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2) Resign yourself to the fact that your carefully planned evening, the first one with your spouse in 4 months, will end up with you eating take out in your car, parked outside the house of a neighbor who happens to have a particularly large TV near a window.</div>
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Your choice!</div>
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<b><u>3) Thou Shall Let It Go</u></b></div>
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<i>Author's Note: I profoundly suck at following this one.</i></div>
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Things can be repaired, messes can be cleaned, clothes can be refolded. Pillows can be put back on the sofa and beds can be remade. Toys can be put back in the toy box. Flour can be cleaned off of the kitchen floor and Vaseline can be cleaned off of the TV stand (eventually.)</div>
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Kids make messes and those can be cleaned up. Accidents happen. Deal with it. If you can't, perhaps you should find a new line of work, like building hermetically sealed boxes.</div>
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This leads directly into...</div>
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<b><u>4) Thou Shall Accept Responsibility For Broken Items</u></b></div>
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If your kids DO break something that cannot be repaired, or cleaned, or is prohibitively expensive to do so, IT'S YOUR OWN FAULT!</div>
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What were you doing letting her play with a string of heirloom pearls in the first place?? When the kids wake up, move your open coffee or orange juice away from your laptop! Or better yet, put the laptop away from where they can reach it!</div>
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If you have a huge room of toys, your kid will find a <a href="http://mraion.blogspot.com/2011/04/my-daughter-religious-zealot.html" target="_blank">hacksaw</a> in the corner and only have eyes for that. Children are hurricanes! They start off with a nice refreshing breeze to lull you into a false sense of security, only to wait until you happily sunning yourself on the beach of parenthood. Then, they bring rain, hail, 200 mph winds and pencils that can fly through telephone poles.</div>
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They will wreck havoc on your home, bringing shocking amount of destruction to certain parts while leaving others untouched. They will level the neighborhoods of Yourstuff, Expensivethings and Itemsofyourchildhood and, miraculously, Toytown and Stuffedanimalville will remain unscathed.</div>
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It happens. If your Faberge egg gets broken, it's your own stupid fault for leaving it where a toddler could get to it. Take responsibility for broken electronics and family heirlooms with the following phrase: It's my fault, sweetie. I should not have left that at toddler height.</div>
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With that said,...</div>
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<b><u>5) Thou Shall Not Be Afraid To Destroy Thy Home</u></b></div>
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Kids adore using things for purposes other than what the manufacturer intended. They want to use spatulas and spoons as catapults and they want to use diapers as hats. If you can turn a regular household item into something fun, do it! Worried about the mess? See Number 3! You'll have a great time and, more importantly, your kids will be tricked into thinking that you're awesome!</div>
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If you spend 10 minutes building a pillow fort and the kids want to knock it down and have you have build it again, YOU DO IT!</div>
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<b><u>6) Thou Shall Abandon Nutritional Ideals</u></b></div>
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Remember when you were a child in a '50's era TV drama and came in from playing baseball behind the old McNulty place only to find that mom had, once again, made a dinner you didn't want?</div>
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"Gee wiz, ma! Tuna casserole again?"</div>
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"Gosh, Tommy! I slaved all day over a hot stove and you'll eat what I put on your plate, or so help me, you're father will hear about this when he gets home!"</div>
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"I think it's just the tops, Mrs. K!"</div>
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"Thank you, Richie! You're very polite! Tommy, you could learn a thing of two from this young man!"</div>
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Or something like that.</div>
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The point is, you'll plan all sorts of ideas for meals and your kids will throw all of it on the floor except the bread. Balanced meals to a toddler only means that they don't overturn the high chair. Offer them what you want them to eat, but be prepared for them to scoff at your choices, starting at birth.</div>
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"Curse you, mom! I don't want left-boob! I'm a right-boob only baby!"</div>
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<b><u>7) Thou Shall Have Flexible Principles</u></b></div>
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Your kid does not care that you're a vegan. They want what they want and they don't care about the ethics of farm-raised animals or fair-trade string beans.</div>
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I'm not saying that you have to abandon everything you hold dear, but you do need to develop a certain level of flexibility.</div>
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Before they were born, I <a href="http://mraion.blogspot.com/2011/09/my-daughters-ones-with-remote-control.html" target="_blank">swore I would not let my kids watch TV</a>. That did not work out so well. The best I can do now is limit the amount of programming we allow them to see.</div>
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CHEESEBURGERS FOR ALL VEGETARIAN BABIES!!!</div>
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<b><u>8) Thou Shall Remember The Age Of Thy Children</u></b></div>
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If you're trying to argue the merits of bed time with a 2 year old, you're an idiot. Remember how old your kids are and make sure that you don't have unreasonable expectations of them. To quote Louis CK, you must ask yourself "WHY? What is to be gained?"</div>
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All too often, I find myself asking my daughter why she is throwing food, or biting a doll, or yelling incoherently.</div>
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The answer is always the same: Because, dad, I'm 2! I forget this WAY too often</div>
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<b><u>9) Thou Shall Not Compare Your Children To Other Children</u></b></div>
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Your kids are amazing! They are incredible! If you start down the path of "Bill's kid is two months younger and can already Riverdance!" then you will make yourself nuts.</div>
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Don't even compare your kids to your other kids! So what if one kid walked at 3 months and the other is just sitting there watching American Idol on her 3rd birthday? Kids develop at different rates and have different milestones.</div>
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Besides, my kids are better, smarter, faster and cuter than yours anyway.</div>
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<b><u>10) Thou Shall Chronicle Everything</u></b></div>
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Take pictures. Take them by the millions. Buy extra storage on your iPhone to keep them all. Buy an external hard drive with 50TB of space and then buy another. You can always go back and delete bad pictures, or ones that you are in, but you can never go back and take more. Your kid will only 149 days old once. They will only have 1 first birthday party.</div>
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Take videos. If your kids is chatting away about unicorns and birdseed, put your camera on the table and tape the whole thing! Video editing software has made leaps and bounds so that you can always edit out your cousins racist rant later!</div>
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You will not be sorry.</div>
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<br /></div>Justinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13309915942161862912noreply@blogger.com