The March of Time

 

Nothing conveys how fast time actually passes
like watching your kids grow.
~Me 

 People who haven't seen our wildlings for a time always comment on how big/old they are getting. While I haven't actually noticed or thought about it, they have. Once upon a time Rhy was just a baby. That was over 7 years ago! And Coop is now 3!  The door frame has charted their growth for 3 years now. A distinct visualization of growth spurts and the continuous march of time. 

Once upon a time, Rhy went to playgroup on Thursday mornings. Now, he's in second grade and mastering school and the art of arguing with his parents. Coop, used to be the baby of playgroup. Now he's the big kid there. Being 3, he's simply mastering the temper tantrum and the art of throwing it. Soon enough (but not nearly soon enough) he'll be four and eventually (hopefully) grow out of this phase and into another. 

 Growth charts on the door frame, report cards from school, shoes too small, pants not long enough, and shirts too tight are constant reminders of the slow march of time.

Oh, another constant reminder? The Christmas countdown chain getting smaller every morning. HO HO HO! 

How I Dad

They say being a parent is the hardest job you'll ever have. It's 24 hours a day, 7 days a week all year every year. There's no instruction manual. The training is done on the job. I now consider myself an expert. But only because I have 1) a degree in early childhood education and 2) 2 kids of my own. Therefore, I'm only an expert for a couple more years, then I'll be swimming in uncharted waters. But here's what I've learned so far...

1) Make ordinary things, extraordinary -like pancakes. Kids love silly shaped pancakes. We have pancake molds but they're a pain in the arse because they're small and the batter is forever sticking to them - even when I use a whole can of NON-STICK cooking spray on them. Stick men, snow men, superman symbol and various letters are equally amusing. I've recently learned how to make a design within a normal, round pancake. Simply make the design on your heated surface, let it brown for a few seconds then cover it with a normally rounded pancake. The kids think it's magic. Significant others will be equally amused.

2) Imagination is amazing. Whether you're playing a game, writing a story, reading a story, or just being goofy imagination goes a long, long way. What if that chutes and ladders game was for real?! How much work would that be to land on square 28 and have to climb nearly to top. How much fun would it be to land on #87 and get to slide all the way down? Something like that new water slide "verrückt"? We roll a mixed up Rubix Cube across the floor and get the letter "G" which means we have to hop on one foot 4 times. Completely made up. Completely fun.

3) Outside is endless. Year round. Mud pies, bugs, worms, puddles, tree climbing, water hose, trampoline, bike rides, swimming, running, running, and running while screaming all summer long. Snowmen and snowwomen and and snowfamilies, snow angels, snowball fights, igloos, zigzag paths shoveled to the bus stop, sledding in the winter. Outside is where the active games get played. Refer back to number 2. Kick a ball, run to that tree and back before I go get that kicked ball and beat you back to where you started. That game's called Oreo*. I don't know why. Hit a ball I throw to you, then dribble a soccer ball to a wall, kick the ball off the wall and return before I get back with the ball you hit. That one's called Fubar*. Mostly because we heard that word in a movie and while we were allowed to say "fubar" we weren't allowed to say what it meant. (I'm 37 now. I can say it now. Just not to my kids) (or anyone elses kids for that matter). (Oreo and Fubar were games a friend and I made up when we were kids. They will be taught to my own kids). One day we even had a sock and shoe fight when we were locked out of the house after school. I had a stick and I used it pick up their socks and shoes and launched them at the kids. There's also gardening digging for worms.

4) Teamwork. There's nothing I can do that we can do better.

5) Lastly, be perfect in your imperfections. I only have the slightest clue what I'm doing. I mostly make it up as I go along. Parenting is part trial and error, part what your parents did with you, and part experiment. Take potty training, for example. Figuring out what will motivate them to use the toilet instead of their underwear (or the floor or the door) is tricky. Chocolate is good. But some prefer gummies. Others prefer non-food items like stickers. And sometimes you just need to shout "GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAL " like a spanish futbol announcer. Or you just need to wait until they're fully ready. You can lead a toddler to the toilet but you can't make them pee in it.

Daddy's Little Sook

sook¹

so͞ok,sək/

noun

noun: sook; plural noun: sooks

1. a female crab.
   
   

This is how I would define sook before meeting my Canadian wife. The opposite of a sook is a jimmy. However, sook has an entirely different meaning now and my wife has 3 of them.

We have 2 kids and both of them are sooks. Needy, attention craving,  dote over me kind of kids. Pet me! Pet me! Play with me!  Lately, the second born has been a sook for me. Wants me. Wants only me. As if he had OCD, only I can perform his requested task. God hath no furry as an OCD toddler*.

Now this is all fine and dandy. I feel privileged, honored even. I get the rambunctious kitchen dances. I get to play airplane. I get extra hugs and kisses. I get cozy book time at bedtime. I get sleepy snuggles after it's lights out. I get extra laughs from tickles. I also get the joys of bath time and the warm, towel wrapped cuddles afterward.

However, it's not all fun and games and snuggles for the big sook. When he spills he wants me to clean him up. When he drops his milk or his fork (while he's buckled into his seat at the dinner table) he wants me to pick it up. When his cup is empty it is I who must fill it. When it's 3 am (or any hour of the night when normal people are sleeping) he wants me to come lay with him. When it's time to go it must be me who dresses him, puts his coat and boots and hat and mittens on him. All trivial tasks, course. Except for the dreaded diaper change! When shits himself it's me he wants.** Its vile enough to make me gag. It often stinks up no less than 2 rooms. If it were any more repugnant the paint would melt off the walls. Any more disgusting and I'd sell it to the military to replace gas bombs.

To those who have babies or had babies, you know what I speak of. To those who are going to have babies, consider yourself properly warned.


*He does not actually have OCD. He has a case of the twos. (Symptoms also resembles the threes)
** In my own defense, it's not as bad as I've made it out to be. He does let mom help, too (just not as often).

Motivation

I started writing this post earlier this week and it started getting long. I looked at from afar and thought "if someone else posted this to read I wouldn't read it because it's too long" so I scrapped it. I was attempting to compared how running (which I love doing) is like being a dad (which I love being). I had 5 reasons listed with explanations to boot.

It was too much. Fun to write, tedious to read. However, I realized something as I was laying with Coop in bed tonight watching him silently drift off to sleep thinking about the run I wasn't going to do tonight. Those 5 lengthy (yet true) reasons running and daddy-ing are alike can be boiled down, concentrated and simplified to just one.

MOTIVATION

Sometimes I can't wait to get out for my run: time to myself, being healthy, endorphins. Sometimes I can't wait to be with my kids: take them to the library, go geocaching, build snowman or igloo or play with toys in the basement. Sometimes I'd be just as happy to have my shoes bronzed and never go again. I'd regret that though, because that feeling only last a day or two. Sometimes I just want my kids bronzed to go quietly entertain themselves, leave me alone so I can do something mundane like today's crossword puzzle or read my book or watch last night's Tonight Show, or eat in peace without being summoned a hundred times. And like the lack of motivation to run, the lack of motivation to be a dad only lasts a couple days hours, max.

My usual runs are 8 miles and take me about an hour. Sometimes I'll do a 10k as fast as I can. I was down to 44:03 the last time I did that. When I'm motivated I can watch my times drop over a period of a few weeks.

When I'm being a dad things seem to go much smoother. The kids don't bicker and argue over who's looking at who. Coop learns to read while Rhy learns to comprehend. There's less sitting and more doing. Today they asked to go to the "parking lot". There, Rhy can ride his scooter and Coop can ride his tricycle without getting squished by a car (ironic, eh?). I didn't want to go. But I knew if we didn't, we'd be back inside watching tv or eating or annoying mom each other. So we went. And while they rode I threw snowballs at them. They laughed when I missed (which was most of the time). I'd laugh if I actually got them. We had fun. Running is like that. Most times when I'm not MOTIVATED to go I'll lace up and go anyway because I know after the first 2-3 miles I'll be feeling good and after the 6th I'll be great. 

But sometimes I just need a vacation; a place to hide to eat my ice cream without sharing and a few days to give my tired shoes a rest. 



Lastly, this was a song for Nanny Sharon, but I give it to you... enjoy! http://youtu.be/i0yF_ycK-sY

 

What I Wanted to Teach Our Kids

 So I was going through an old journal a couple weeks ago and I found this little gem. It was an entry written sometime in the 9 month (40 week) span between Halloween (the day my wife told me she was pregnant) and the 4th of July (when our son bulldozed his way out the womb) in 2007. In this entry I wrote down five things I wanted to teach our child (and any future children that might come along. I obviously wrote this before I had any children of my own.

The first lesson I wrote was "Live without regret". That's impossible. Kids don't know what regret is until it's too late. If I knew what regret was when I was kid I would never have stuck my head in that cinder block. Or rode my bike to the park and walked home because I forgot I rode my bike there. Or gotten a hold of a can of white paint and painted my bike, a newspaper to the floor and a window shut.
I could use a lesson on this myself. How am I to teach it to my kids?

The second thing I wrote was "Treat others with the same respect as you treat yourself". Ideally I want them to be kind to everyone regardless of how inconsiderate, rude and mean others can be. Except to his brother. In that case they are free to hit and scream and shove and throw things at each other. Especially if it's because his brother is dancing, singing or just looking at him.

The third thing was "Try new things". HA  When it comes to food they've ended up too much like me. If they don't like the look of it or the smell of it (hell, sometimes even just the sound of it) they won't go near it. I want them to play many sports, many instruments, study many subjects, travel many places, etc... I didn't mean try to put water in the sippy cup with the lid still on it. I didn't mean try doing cannonballs in the bathtub (thereby emptying the tub onto the floor). I didn't mean try to turn into a puppy when you turn five so you could poop in the yard with the dog. (Rhy told that one to his grandmother)( Correction: Rhylan asked his mother if he could poop in the yard when he turned into a puppy at age 5. I told him, by all means, if you turn into a puppy at age 5 he was more than welcome to poop in the yard like Nana and PopPop's puppies, until then he was going to poop in the toilet like the rest of us human folk.)

The forth one was probably the funniest.
4) Listen to your parents. We know what we're talking about. However, sometimes we won't know the answer. In that case your mother may say "I don't know" while I'll make up something believable. Want to know where eggs come from? Easy. The store. Though the store gets them chickens (and that's the truth!) Want to know what that thing is between your legs? That's your penis (we'll call your pee pee for now though). Those are questions I can easily answer. Want to know how babies get in mommies bellies? Your mom knows the answer to that one. I also wrote about them coming to us for advice and following our rules. We'll see how that goes.

The fifth and last one was "Use your imagination". Mother Teresa said that it takes hours, days, weeks, years even, to create something yet only seconds to destroy it. Create anyway. My children are the embodiment of that quote. Rhylan or myself or mom will create something. Whether it is a tower of blocks or a clean house it will be destroyed. That clean floor is begging to have a cup of goldfish dumped on it and then danced on (tonight however, it was a box of spaghetti). I was going to see how many blocks high I could stack - I never made it past 12 because they would get wacked (though the squeals of laughter made it worth building several more times). Their imaginations are fully functional so I know I've gotten this one right. Coop loves to pretend that dust bunnies are bugs. He'll blow them across the floor and then run and scream that the bug is going to get his toes. Rhy has taken to making up and writing stories (sometimes acting them out when the mood fits). Coop will often draw "pictures" of arm pits and basketballs.

So those were the lessons I had intentions of teaching our kids before we had kids. For now I'll leave you with this link to one of my favorite prints by one of my favorite artists who seems to know about having kids... Brian Andreas This print hangs in our living room.

Influences

I sure hope that as my 2 kids grow up they can avoid "celebrity influence", ignore all their gossip and drama, and not justify their actions based on what any given celebrity does.

• Justin Bieber eggs his neighbor's house and gets arrested for DUI.

• Rob Ford is doing God knows what as mayor.

•  How many actors (Philip Seymour Hoffman just recently) and actresses and musicians have died of overdosing? 

 It should be easy to teach them not to act like famous people. The real challenge will be: do the right thing. Even if the right thing isn't what everyone else is doing.

One child is already leaning towards being a follower. His "friends" will be doing something they probably (or definitely) shouldn't be doing. Instead of stepping away, he joins them. We've talked several times about behavior and what's expected. But I'm sure it doesn't make it any easier in the moment. I was a kid once... sometime a long time ago (It's been a couple hours now). So I can understand, to a degree, about getting caught up in the moment and having fun. Until that fun is 1) making a terrible mess that shouldn't be made 2) hurting someone or their feelings 3) not doing what he's supposed to be doing. 

1 I'm not too worried about. Messes can be cleaned up- unless it's something that's been broken. But I know how much he hates to clean. (He once sat in his toy room and did nothing for 2 straight hours to try to get out of cleaning it) So usually when he makes a mess he believes someone else will clean it for him. 2 is worse. He would never hurt someone intentionally. But he would be mean (argue and yell at) to someone who is being mean to him. I know he would because I saw him do it last week. I've now started talking to him about not being mean to anyone for any reason. Even if they're being mean to him. If someone starts being mean to him he is to leave them and go somewhere else. Even if they deserve a punch in the throat (no, I didn't tell him that part). And lastly, 3 is about following directions. When he's given a direction he needs to follow it regardless of what's going on around him. He is so easily distracted (I think he gets that from me... ooh a squirrel!) (Or he might get it from his uncle). I go all teacher on him. Work and assignments come first, always do your best work, read read read. With a little luck and some perseverance (and some kicks in the pants) some of it will sink in. My fingers are crossed anyway.

This post turned out to be a bit longer than I was planning. But it is what I'm currently trying to inscribe on our children before it's too late.

Alpacas, Water Slides and a Lost Hat

This all took place last July of 2013 on Prince Edward Island. It was a life experience for the kids and one they will never forget.

We joined my brother-in-law's family (wife and 4 kids) and rented a cabin at a campground for 3 nights. That in itself was a great experience. Cousins, campfires, smores, junk food, bar-b-ques and 10:00 bedtimes. The campground was great. It had a playground and kids entertainment and evening hayrides. It also had a giant bouncy "pillow". It must have been 30 feet long and 15 feet wide and it inflated to a dome and you could bounce on it like a trampoline. At one point there were probably 20 kids on this thing... it was a blast (I loved it, too.)(Of course). Anyway, a bonus to the campground was it's proximity to a water park. It was 36C (97F) on the day we arrived. We were cookin' hot. So off to the water park we went.

It was an interesting layout they had the water park. The entrance was at the back while all the water park stuff was at the front. Or at least what I'd call the back and front in relation to the road. Anyway, as we're walking through the park to get to the water slides we come across a small petting zoo. Thinking the 2 year old would like see the animals we carry him into the small barn. There was a low wall inside and we went over to see what was behind it. At that same moment, the alpaca that was laying down decided to pick his head up to see who coming to see him. Cooper lost his mind. Wanted no part of being in that barn any more. Not to see the miniature horses or the donkeys or the guinea pigs. Even mention the word alpaca and he'd start crying. That was the end of the petting zoo. Six months later he still talks about being afraid of alpacas.


The water made it all better. They had a kids' area with a small wading pool and a bunch of kiddie size slides. I had fun on them too, naturally. The 2 year old learned to float and dunk his head. No alpacas in this water, so it was all good. He was a little otter by they end of the day. Beside the wading pool were the big, giant water slides that required you sit in inner tubes. I took the 6 year old on one. We climbed about 50 feet up and it was our turn to go down. The attendant at the top then told we couldn't wear our hats or Crocs. She told us to just toss them over the side and pick them up at the bottom. I tossed our Crocs down and they landed in the grass. No problem. I toss his hat down and a gust of wind decides to blow. The hat landed on top of the next water slide down! Stuck. We made several trips back to that slide in hopes that if the wind could blow it onto the slide, it could blow it back off again. No such luck. 

We went back to the water park the next day, though it wasn't nearly as warm. We went over the paddle boats this time. The kids loved that they were shaped like pirate ships. Afterward we decided to go through a fun maze. Or at least we thought it would be fun. It looked fun. Some ropes to climb through, steps to climb and a slide to come down. The 2 year old loves slides as much he loves water, so why not take him down? Because, as I'm carrying a 2 year old, that half way up a skeleton will pop up like a rabid gopher, hydraulics will hissssss like air brakes heard at close range and that 2 year old I'm carrying  will jump out of his skin screaming and crying. Fortunately, there was a slide for us immediately after that so that sort of made it all better - like a band-aid on a boo boo. So now he's scared of alpacas and skeletons that say "pssss".