Falling Behind - Week 9 and 10

Of course when one decides to do something like make a post once each week one inevitably finds oneself addicted to some TV show released in the 90's that makes a subscription to Netflix somewhat justifiable and then never gets around to actually releasing anything.

Maybe it was because we took such a long holiday.

Lots has happened, don't you worry.  The kids are still alive even if they are bruised. (For future reference -- Coffee Tables, Couch Cushions, and Acrobatics:  On their own; good idea.  Together... not so much)

So there's this thing that happens to children once they arrive home from an extended vacation.  They become bored, listless, and complacent while exercising some newly developed entitlement to all things food or toy related.  It typically manifests itself as a temper tantrum where 3yo exclaims "BUT I DON'T WANT {insert any item or activity here}!" then falls to his knees on the floor wailing and tearing at his clothing.

This is not my fault right?

Day one of our return to routine saw Dad arriving back in the kitchen to son standing IN the refrigerator wondering if there was something interesting to eat.  My son, at three, is checking out the contents of the fridge when he's bored... who knew these things were genetic?

Rather than freak out, I thought (since I had predicted we were but days away from seeing this behavior while we were on holidays) that capturing it on camera would be in my best interest.  So here you go, for your viewing pleasure:

Now... surely this is not a safe activity.  Surely a father, being of sound mind, would not allow this to happen. And certainly not happen again.  Thankfully it seems I am still of sound mind because the boy has not ventured into the fridge at any point since.

"Dad, this is a long 'Do you understand'..." He says while being lectured on his behavior...

Even he sees why the students get tired of me at school...

Anyway it's not like it was going to get worse than this, right?

Tuesday -- the next day -- we are in that giant warehouse sponsored by President's Choice.  Me and the two boys.  All is going well... Pool Noodles (tm) are on sale for 45cents.  I put two under the cart.  Boys are very excited.  Aisles 1-8 go well.

Then oldest gets bored...  with no fridge to return to he hops out of the cart, grabs a pool noodle and makes his little brother laugh.  By hitting him with it.  Then hitting his dad.  Then hitting the lady walking by.

The littlest one can be his own share of devious...

Now... at this point Dad intervenes.  "Darling 3yo" he says in a patient and caring voice.  "You do realize that it is particularly rude to strike passer-bys with your limp foam extension correct?"

Boy laughs maniacally and runs through the produce section looking for victims...

Dad looks at boy in cart and then back at the oldest doing the 50 yard dash past the potatoes.  "Here we go" he thinks to himself.

Now there are three types of people that shop at the grocery store.  Are you person A?
A) "Let him go, he's the only interesting thing happening in the grocery store.

Could you be person B?
B) "Ha ha, he's so cute I don't mind that he's hitting me!"

or person C?
C) "Excuse me sir, is this thing yours?  Do you realize he's been running down the check-out lines hitting people with a pool noodle.  I really do think he should be accompanied by an adult."

Because I met all three people

To A) says I, "Yes, but at some point this is going to get out of hand"
To B) I say "certainly, but he needs to come back and apologize."
To C) I think... "you think an adult should be with him when he's hitting people with a pool noodle?"

Le sigh...

By Wednesday the solution was to get out of errand mode and venture back to the zoo.  The only place on earth where you're safe behind glass when the crazy monkeys are getting ready to be fed!

This one sucks blueberries from the pancakes...

Always the optimist I simply swallowed my tears and assumed that at some point life would return to a semblance of normal.

Oh for the weekend.

Beautiful wife, beautiful life... why does that boy have a stick.?
Have we learned nothing?!

Oh the humanity.  My darling 3YO literally burst blood vessels in his eyes from screaming about not wanting to walk 50 paces more in Comox.  But the frequency of these tantrums was increasing toward the weekend and not decreasing.  At this point I look down at the plastic wrist-band reminder I wish I wore with a "WWSND" engraved on it.  (What would Supper Nanny Do)...

My Mother-in-Law would take them to the fair!

and stick them all in a barrel...

I suggest Golf.

If you need a man to do something for you, hold the prospect of golf over his head.  It works for the 3yo.  It's amazing to watch a small boy with a loud voice go from screaming bloody murder to smiling and saying, "oh, that sounds fun, let's do that" within a fraction of a second when you mention that it is possible that while out at the lake we will be able to go mini-golfing.

And... though probably a poor way of dealing with things, each time the red-rage started to build we would simply point out that golf was on the line.

But you know what... I can still handle an hour of screaming better than most, and I always win.  The failure is in that I have to...

plus... one will learn from the other...

So we head into week 2 home exhausted, a little bit edgy and wondering why we never write stories about the 1yo.  Is he really that boring?

This past week brought the onset of Preschool, which, like the onset of puberty is unpredictable, awkward, and a gateway to incredible changes in your child.

I suspect that the first day of school (ever) is a big day for a lot of people.  Most (if not ALL) of them being women.  I am going to share with you what it was like to be ME (a man) on the first day of school...

"Darling son, it is not a good day to sleep in, you have school..."
"Darling son, it is not a good day to spit your yogurt out on the table, and get upset about not wanting blueberries mixed with your granola, I'm trying to decide if I'm allowed to label these clothes or if we've borrowed them from Mommies friends..."
"Darling son, will you please stop crying about wanting to wear your rubber boots, we have got to get going."
"Darling son, I'm going to start threatening things that I can't possibly follow through on because there's no way in **** we're going to miss the first day of school."
"Darling son, can you please buckle your self in this morning we're going to be late."
"Darling son, must you dawdle in the parking lot, the face that person is making in the truck is not as funny as you think it is..."

"Yes, Darling son, you may go play, and no I'm not going to leave right away there's a parent meeting."

No tears.  No detachment issues.  He hung up his own backpack and settled into the trucks within moments.  Even amidst the other screaming crying child-demons.

Dad exits the building with the lead teacher and the other moms (and dad) that have come for the first day.  Because going outside is part of the new educational philosophy that's Reggio inspired.... blah blah... natural light... blah blah... no plastic... blah blah blah... need some volunteers... blah blah preschool graduation committee... throw up a little in my mouth... blah blah....

I felt bad for not really caring deeply about my 3yo and his education (especially being so involved in education) and I felt bad for not really caring if the blocks he played with were made of wood or plastic, and not really caring if he got to decide when and what he wanted to learn about.

Preschool (it turns out) was all about me... I got two hours at the gym, bracketed by half an hour with my 1YO who yells at me in a much more tolerable way, and smiles with the most beautiful glowing, sparkling eyes.... and this speech was really wrecking my mojo...

Speaking of me... Our DinoTrain sidewalk art was a proud moment...

BUT -- they have signs that say, children should listen, and raise their hands, and be patient, and share toys... and when my boy came home he was excited to tell me about them.  And he's been a saint each day since.

Darn you Reggio inspired preschool and your leadership and training for my 3yo.  Why must you be so effective in the areas I can not be?!

Next week I get to spend the time actually in the preschool with the children.  I am excited.  I don't know if he knows I'm coming yet, or if he'll be able to pick a proper organic show-and-tell item for the day, but who cares... I get to see him at his best among other kids his own age.

And the youngest is learning to be taken care of by the amazing staff at the gym.

I'm not going to lie.  Getting the boy to preschool, particularly the more ridgid structure, is really hard on me. I don't know that my mood at the end of this week really is an honest reflection of how great it was to have a boy old enough to be enjoying some structured school time.  Nor does it reflect the best part of having him there which is the alone time I get with the youngest, counting fingers, making faces, listing body parts, checking out the ladies at the gym... wait... well okay, since I'm being honest, I let him check out the ladies, it's part of a natural healthy mindset for a boy... right?

Also healthy... toddlers learning to make fire.
That's a good idea, right?

Anyway...

An old friend got married this weekend, and the wife and I got an evening away from the kids, but we still spend most of our time talking about them, and missing them and wondering how we ever did with out them... and that's why it's so easy to fall behind on the blog... it means taking an hour or two away from the kids during the best time of life.

Now.

The Perfect Week - Week 5

I'm not ashamed to say that I've learned all that I need to learn about being a stay-at-home dad now.  The only thing left to do is put it in cruise-control and enjoy the road.  I'm not ashamed to say it, because of course it's true.

The perfect week began with a perfect day to be outside, and so we got in the van, pre-loaded with an arsenal of gear, set our sights on finding some water to play in and then started to drive.

Always Bring a Backpack

One of the best parts of living in Calgary is the proximity to... well... everywhere that's not an ocean.  There's Dinosaur Provincial Park just over an hour east.  Kananaskis, and Banff within an hour west.  A few hours south there is Waterton, and a few hours north there is Edmonton... okay, so there's not that much to the north.  But still...

The boys were content.

"Dad, this is a long way to go for water" says the oldest 20 minutes into our drive.

I'd chosen west, thinking perhaps Bragg Creek or Jumping Pound Creek might suit my fancy.  While  admiring the boys in the rear-view mirror I had also happened to glance at the National Park pass that dangled there like a flacid reminder of once-good-intentions.

08/2012

The expiry date indicating that August 2011 was the last time I had been to the Parks.  "You know what?" says I to myself. "I should really make use of that."  And so we were on our way to Banff.

"Dad, I just wanted to go to the Spray Park" the oldest reminds me.

"We're almost there." I reply, and relative to the size of the country, I couldn't feel guilty for lying...

We made it.  I hadn't been to Banff for a long time.  Parts have changed significantly which meant it was a fresh visit for me, and the boys had never been there which meant the playground held a magical significance for them... even though there is one across the street.

See the thing about being Dad is... half of the job is for the kids, and half of the job is for yourself.  Monday began the perfect week because I did what I wanted to do out of pure selflessness...

You can't top Banff on Monday right?  Well no, you can't.  So I didn't try.

My Aunt brought over the youngest cousins on the paternal side; two mentors of destruction for my two boys; the perfect tandem. She left them here for a few hours and so, like a perfect stay-at-home-dad I took all of them for a walk to the park.  The oldest rode a plastic trike that was 3 sizes too small.  The middle, he took a scooter.  My oldest took his bike with the wonky wheel, I pushed the plastic car with the youngest and the dog was in tow.

Not satisfied with the playground though, we decided we were hungry (like a group of men are wont to be) so off to the grocery store we ambled.  Yes... 5 boys and a dog... Because I'm perfect.

There were an awful lot of grumpy people at the grocery store that day.  And considering the beautiful weather and the timing of our visit, I found it really quite distressing -- all this negativity.

Time found the oldest cousin pushing the grocery cart with my oldest in the seat, while the younger cousin sat in the front of the cart pushing the plastic car with my youngest through the store.  I was at the lead like a disturbingly passive Piper of Hamelin tossing produce and provisions to the pledges behind.

Really it could not have gone more better.  Don't know what all the dirty looks were about...

The oldest really wanted to go to the gym this week.  Which is great for me, and for the boys.  So we went.  Because it was the perfect week I decided that it was time for the youngest to go down the Great Blue Water-slide of Doom.  The oldest had long-since become accustomed to the rarefied air and ritual queuing at the starting gate, not-to-mention the extreme speeds reached on the precipitous drops during the ride.  Plus, he had been begging to go on his own for the past little while.  So... with the slightest of nods from the on-duty life-coach relaxed on her deck chair at the top of this perilous monstrosity, off he went unintimidated, upside-down and backward down the slide; little brother watching anxiously from my arms.

I must now pause to mention that the oldest often gets what he wants because the youngest really hasn't learned to express himself properly.  We don't get much more than *sign for:  Please-feed-me-now or *sign fo:  Yes-that-choice-of-food-is-adequate-the-quicker-you-shove-it-in-my-mouth-the-less-volume-I-will-use-to-emphatically-sign-this... and so lest you should think that I favour one over the other, please remember that the youngest only just learned how to walk and I wasn't about to let him go down the slide by himself just so that things were fair.  I'm surprised you'd even expect that!

Food: The Ultimate Learning Tool

Suffice to say, not only did the oldest live, but he refused to get off the slide at the bottom, much to the chagrin of the now "suddenly-I'm-interested-in-the-welfare-of-the-patrons" slide-patrol.  Like this was my fault -- someone should tell her what a perfect Dad I am.

I found myself by Thursday looking back at the week and thinking -- "well, imagine that, it's Thursday and no one has choked, no one has thrown a temper-tantrum, no one has injured themselves, no mosquitoes have feasted, no sunburns, or goose-eggs.  The diaper-rashes had abated, the teeth had emerged, there were moments of quiet serenity in the house.  What could possibly happen before the Heritage Day Long-Weekend?

Nothing happened.  I went into the weekend having pitched the perfect game, having thrown the proverbial 300, having completed the triple-crown of Daddy daycare.  I rule.

So I took the youngest to visit his great-grandfather in Camrose and left all the diapers, snacks, and toys behind at Ma-Me-O beach.  I could blame it on having Mom around... well actually I can't.

The speed of Bolt during the 100m sprint, or the realization of what was in his pants?
Either way, it was a strange look that afternoon.

That'll learn ya...