The Dadvent Calendar

I got to thinking today, what do we do at home to celebrate the season of advent?  For those that despise the season; how I can make it better for you?  For those that love the season; what can I do to add to your rich and stalwart traditions?

 

by Aesop, on Flickr - some rights reserved

Each year at our house, particularly now that we have young children, our Advent-House makes an appearance.  This is a wooden advent calendar that has drawers in it.  These drawers are meant to be filled with "treats" for the children to enjoy each day leading up to Christmas Day.  No doubt many who read this might share a similar tradition.  Rather than focus on treats though, I really want the advent season to help celebrate our family.

 I've arrived at something I believe to be worthy of sharing.  I call it "12 Days of Dadvent".  Something for Dad to do with his children to celebrate another year end, and bring relationship to the forefront of family life during arguably the most fundamental season for bringing families together (whether they like it or not).

 In order to participate (yes, I am asking you to participate) you don't even need an actual advent calendar.  What you need is a drawer, a shoe-box, a container, or  a pocket and then follow the instructions below.  You might need a couple days to get together your resources, but I promise you they won't cost much (if anything) and they won't be hard to find.

 How it works, in a nutshell: Each day of advent your children will open a drawer, envelope, fireproof safe, containing a surprise.  This surprise might simply be their favorite candy, or it might be one of the following 12 suggestions which they get to enjoy with you during that day!  You'll need to write-down, or print off a list ahead of time to ensure they're in there - if you don't want to go that far, you could just follow @stayathomegang on Twitter, and I'll be posting my advent list tagged #dadvent2012)

My Suggestions

feel free to comment with your own extra-specially great ideas use the comment feed below or add to the conversation on Twitter

1. Cook an extra meal and deliver it - We all know someone, or some family that has had a tough time this year, and could use a "pick-me-up".  Discuss with your children who it might be fun to surprise with a meal, and then (if they're old enough) prepare it with them.  Create a simple card to go with it that says something akin to:  Thought you could use the night off.  Then deliver it, anonymously or as a family.
2. Make a Christmas Card, or write a Christmas Letter - You might want to do this for someone in your life in particular who is special to you and your children, or it might just be something that you mean to do every year and you put off.  Whether it's a letter that you simply write to each other, or it's something you choose to send out take the time to tell someone in your life about the things you've gone through, or are thankful for this year.
3. Go for a walk during the evening - Pretty straightforward, but when it's something that you're children start anticipating through the course of the day it can quickly become something bigger than "just another night to walk the dog".  Around here, there's all kinds of reasons to be out at night during the winter.
4. Video yourself singing Christmas Songs - Whether you post them to your social network of choice or just watch them over and over yourselves a family that sings together laughs together.  And who doesn't want a family who laughs together?!
5. Make a Gingerbread House (if ambitious, do it from scratch) - There's something about bringing together baking with building.  This activity is both frustrating, and at times hugely rewarding but more importantly it is an activity that requires many hands, and time together.  If you're a stay-at-home or you're just looking for something to do in the evening this is an activity that can highlight strengths and weaknesses and helps celebrate each other.
6. Go to a Seasonal Event - There are lots of artists and venues out there hosting holiday events during the weeks leading up to Christmas.  Why not spend some time as a family choosing one at random and trying it out?  Many are free, and many you won't try otherwise so why not pick one some morning and book the day/evening off to go and take it in?
7. Cuddle up with a good old Christmas Movie - I am nearing the end of #noTVnovember and realizing the joy that a good old family movie night can bring.
8. Learn about a Christmas Charity - Notice I didn't say donate?  Sometimes learning about charities can be as important as choosing one to support.  Do this together.  Let your children lead the discussion.  Enjoy the time poking around at the organizations that are active this time of year.
9. Do something on your "Honey-Do-List" - Your children will love discovering that their treat of the day is to watch Daddy have to do some menial job that needs to get done, and they can put their feet up an enjoy the sweat and frustration as he tries to patch that hole, paint, or repair.  We've all got chores hanging over our heads, whether it's finally stripping the beds to do the sheets, or dusting the baseboards there is some odd job that you can all do together, ideally to blaring music that the advent calendar has instructed you to do.
10. Take a funny Family Portrait - if you're a stay-at-home then send it to your spouse at work.  If you're up to it, post it publicly for all to laugh at.  If not, just enjoy it at home.
11. Decorate a room - No doubt you have extra christmas lights, or decorations, or oddities and knick-knacks that you wouldn't put out publicly.  Get the kids together and choose a room that you can all decorate together.
12. Read about Christmas - It turns out there's a lot of history about the Christmas Season that the common layperson doesn't know.  I know this because today while I researched the tradition of advent (a tradition I've followed for years without asking why) I found out all kinds of great stuff that I didn't know -- for instance why Shakespeare wrote "12th Night" and how it is (or isn't) related to the 12 days of Christmas.

So there you have it; 12 days of Christmas Advent where you can spend some QT with the family and look like a super-dad while you're at it.  And that's why I call it "Dadvent".

In This Episode...

If you read this blog, and you must, because you are... whatever, my last post was about turning off the television for the month of November.  And we have... I mean we did.  I mean we are... what do I mean?  I didn't really think about how many ground-rules would be required ahead of time:  Is Netflix in-bounds, what about TV apps on the iPad, how much iPad constitutes a table-addiction, can we watch YouTube?  What if we rent a movie?

Add to that the toddler had a tooth-ache (okay a four-molar-alarm that required medicinal intervention) and a ridiculous dump of snow during a cold-snap and it was starting to feel like my TV moratorium was poorly timed.

But so was Sandy.  With all disasters comes a lack of timing, or rather, what time is the right time to have a disaster?

I lament.

And I shouldn't!  It's been good.  No, it's been great.  Well mostly great.  It's alright.  It's going fine.

This was the 1YO BEFORE the TV went off...

We're half way there right?  Are all months this long?

Enough of the side-talk, here's the deal.  I've learned some stuff already.

1.  TV can be therapy for stressed adults:  There is an onset of anxiety as one faces the prospect of an evening at home without the ability to disappear into suspended-disbelief with some reliable characters who have become replacements for our friends and community.  Thank goodness our mobile devices afford us the same distraction  (As our hands literally go numb from holding them too long).  At the same time my wife and I have had to turn to other things for therapy.  Sometimes it's even each other.

2.  A toddler's brain is much more plastic than mine:  It took but one day for the irritating nagging from my 3YO to turn on a movie, or a show for him was replaced by the beautiful requests of a regenerated 3YO boy who wants to explore his own creativity.  His one-liners have been captured on Twitter (#noTVnovember).

3.  Productivity in the rest of my life is directly related to productivity of my evenings:  Once I get the hang of finding things to motivate me to do the things on my to-do list then I start my to-do list earlier, and finish things more effectively.  In fact, much of my to-do list is finished prior to starting dinner, which means after dinner I find myself lacking things to-do... oops.  Maybe you find it easy to find ways of washing the carpets, reorganizing the junk-drawers, framing and hanging photos, rematching bags of 'lost' socks, and tightening toilet-seals, but before the TV went off these are things I "just couldn't get to".

4.  Even though our brains aren't as plastic... adult too can benefit from a vigorous reversal of the creativity dampening brought on by photon bombardment.  Case-in-point:

The Basement Campsite.

I have had the tent up in the basement for a while, mostly to air it out and double check that the seams are still good, because it's too small for the whole family now, and who the heck has time to go back-country anyway...  So I promised the 3YO on a whim that we'd set up a campsite a while back.  This past week we did it.

You don't need much, just some imagination, some time, and some eager toddlers.  We took down our Hallowe'en lights and put them in an upside-down milk crate for a campfire.  Nearby drum-sticks made grade false-kindling and the hula-hoop we've never used forged a perfect pit.  The lawn chairs came out of winter storage, and the plastic picnic table from the yard was brushed free of ice and deposited near the tent.  Some sheets and table cloths provided ample 'foliage' to create a back-drop and the pool-noodles double as amazing roasting-sticks.  A little background music provided by the Nature-Sounds playlist on Songza, and we had ourselves a retreat...  We've spent hours now, hiding from Augustus Gloop and trying not to fall in the Chocolate River (arrived at solely by the 3YO I promise you) and searching for animals with our plastic binoculars.  The tent doubles as a great wrestling mat, and the old toddler tunnel gives us great protected access to our new home in the basement.

Lest you think no TV only works for creatively-stunted Dads; Mom recently endeavored to design and create a new bed-spread for the boy complete with stenciled letters and airplanes to match the theme of the eldest's room.

Though the idea was sparked over a year ago, the impetus to follow-through only happened this week.  And the look of joy, and sheer excitement from the boys as the stencils were peeled back today was enough to make all the frustration of not being able to turn on the television during those tough times worth it.

Some might ask, "Do you actually miss anything?"   I'd argue I was missing more before it went off.

No TV November

I pledge to turn off the television for one month.

I'm going public with this, because I know there are others out there that need this.  They need to join my anonymous support group for TV addicted stay-at-home parents and they need to STOP, cold-turkey, today.

--Plus my wife won't let me do, "No-Shave November" (or more colloquially; "Movember"*) because my beard is ugly and scratchy.  So this is my compromise:  She, and the rest of my family are OFF TV until December 1st.

No, I don't believe it can be done.  No I don't believe you're an awful failure of a parent if you can't do it either.  I'm just saying let's try this together, and do it for our prostates... and if you don't have a prostate, do it for my prostate.  Actually that just sounds weird... just do it for fun... because you hate your life, and you want to make a positive change for your family... and there's no hockey anyway.

Listen-- in the masochistic world of stay-at-home parenting there are some tried and true methods of escape.  

First and foremost, it seems, is the television.

Though for many years the television was my humble adviser, my gracious friend, my companion and my confident, years later I look back and see the shallowness and contrite nature of our relationship.   Sure it  carried through on its promise of hours of entertainment.  Yes, it showed me the world as I longed to see it, it filled me with hope of a new and amazing tomorrow, and promised an amazing new car and shoes that would help me to fly.  But it didn't tell me I was going to have to get off the couch and work for it, it just came at me with more and more interesting flashing lights and loud noises.  (A man's arch-nemesis -- watch for my blog on why a man can't pay attention to you at a bar...)

So there might have been a time when I would shake the hands of the inventors of the original home-television sets, and said,

"Well done.  I shake you warmly by the hand.  Your work has brought joy to our homes particularly around the dinner hour when my young family can be distracted from sitting side-ways in their chairs, flinging potatoes into the air, and smearing tomato sauce onto their clothing.  Finally there is an escape offered after a long day at the factory."  

Now I simply wish to shake these geniuses, and yell:

"For the love of all that is good and holy, please do not submit the world to this plague.  You have no idea the reality you will forge with the phosphorescent demon of nature!"

Let me explain:

As October turned cold this year, and the positive physio-emotional response to being a new stay-at-home parent started to wane, the poisonous and addictive affects of the television-drug began to do its work.

If you don't relate to this affliction already then let this serve as a warning:  You will tell yourself, "I'll just let them watch 10 minutes in the morning before breakfast.  My kids are not going to be raised by television like I was." and you feel good, you feel real good because the one year old is not screaming for yogurt and the three year old hasn't yet destroyed the house.

It's a high.

It's a horribly wonderful high that, like the morning coffee, becomes less and less effective the more and more you abuse it.  Soon those ten minutes are just not enough to combat those bleak, dark mornings of late-fall.  Ten turns to twenty, twenty to forty, and pretty soon you're back on the television train and there's nothing you can do about it.

Sure you can turn it off by 8, maybe 9am.  Sure you can stop anytime you want to.  But do you want to?  Do you really want to leave it off when the 1YO is napping, the 3YO is not, but Netflix is calling to him saying, "I have Mighty Machines... Big and Mighty Machines..." and in that beautiful whine he's saying, "Daddy can I watch a movie now, please... I don't want puzzles... I don't want to do colouring... I don't want to paint... I don't like it outside... I don't think you're a very good parent anymore, I'm going to tell the next stranger I see that you abuse me and then the police are going to take you away to jail because not letting me watch TV is illegal..."

The time has come to take a stand-- To enter "the program" and get off the glow.  What started as a summer for exploration, enjoying the outdoors, frequenting the zoo and the playground, by the end of October, now looks like an advertisement for comfortable furniture.  Enough is enough, and I don't care what episodes I am going to miss, I am going OFF the sauce!  AND no matter how painful it may become, my kids are too.

If you believe in what I'm saying then make your pledge in the comment feed below.  I will be there for support; updating my status, and adding some pointers along the way @stayathomegang on Twitter #noTVnovember.  Let me know how it's going for you!

PS.  If I do make it through this and you don't... well I only have a low-grade addiction as my house has no cable so in theory this should be easier.

And for my next trick I'm going to go off the internet.  I'll call it "DSL-free December".  Just so you know I've already started cutting down, and this post was written by hand.

Footnotes:

*No Shave November is a solidarity movement to raise funds and awareness of men's-health related issues. Men grow the most offensive facial hair they can for one month, and a few of them get sponsors who support them in this.  I've heard it all started with a group of Finnish lumberjacks who got lost in the woods of Eastern Alaska in the 1950's during the month of November and one of them got Testiculitis or something.

**No beards were shaved during the writing of this post.  Well, here anyway...

Holy Hannah I'm gonna be a Hockey Dad...

There comes a time in every Canadian father's life when he rolls over checks that the time on the alarm is in fact correct, shakes off the weariness of a sleep cut short and then wonders deeply, "who the #*$& invented the NHL?!"  He will then endeavor to wake his child to force feed him remicrowaved porridge drenched in maple syrup in a valiant and unsuccessful attempt to mask the flavour.   He will have to bang the frost off the hockey bag stowed carefully along the coldest wall of the garage, away from Mom's keen sense of smell.  Then he'll toss the boy in the trunk, strap the gear into the back-seat, realize his folly, grab his coffee off the top of the car then drive down the road to the nearest hockey rink where he will make a gallant and bleary-eyed attempt to tie skate laces together on the wriggling and writhing wrong foot of an all to ungrateful brat of child.  Finally he will be able to refill his coffee and stare grimly across a dank smelling refridgerator of an ice-rink at boys who can't skate, chasing around a black puck while leaning too heavily on their luxuriously priced hockey-stick which they will outgrow by the end of the season.  As consciousness begins to defrost, he will realize that he's been staring not at his son who is skating circles in his own end, but the "Timbits" logo on the front of the jerseys.  That will remind him the level of coffee in his cup will not be enough to fuel the trip home and he will have to stop yet again in that cattle-train drive-through and add yet another doughnut to the growing girth around his middle.

At least that's how I see it going.  That is my nightmare.  Oh, how I pray I don't become a Hockey Dad.

The oldest unfortunately is shaping up to be a left-handed virtuoso, a marvel of physical achievement, a tour-de-force all compactly wrapped in the 20th percentile height/weight category.  It is with great pride and deep anxiety that I watch this 3yo take to the street to play hockey against the neighbourhood giants.  These eight to twelve year-olds have years of experience on him!  Towering above him, missing teeth, smacking well worn sticks against the pavement, they seek to intimidate and he stares up at them unphased.

"Give me the ball." he demands, and in the next fifteen minutes, he will out maneuver, out run, out play and out score some invisible opponent while chasing a ball he barely gets to touch often in the wrong direction and without worrying about what team he is on.  In those fifteen minutes he will get bowled over, tripped, start a fight with a five year old, and pretty much look like the oft-celebrated goons from the 1970's Summit Series.

How can I NOT put him in hockey this year?

We're a family of nerds raising a jock.  This week I "published" a children's book written in iambic pentameter with illustrations I made myself using an iPad.  I'm a drama teacher.  I play recreational soccer.  I can skate, but I can only turn right, and I can't stop.  I use a hockey stick to hold up the Thai Chili Peppers that grow in my indoor green-house, and I worry that other hockey dads are going to beat me up.  The only reason I know anything about hockey is because I listen to sports radio during my morning commute so that I can at least hold my own in conversation with the arrogant 14yos I teach in middle school who know every player on every roster on every team in the NHL...  and no one is going to want to talk to me, especially since my tiny little 4yo spark-plug is poised to become the next Theoron Fleury (without the unfortunate history, and subsequent torment), while their 6yos are still trying to figure out which part of the jersey is the front.  Who am I to hold him back?

I do worry about the injuries and the life lessons learned by competitive hockey players.  We're all aware of the hazing, and the spinal injuries, but lately all the talk has been the concussions... and good Lord is my son's head large.  But he loves hockey.  He wants it.  As a stay-at-home dad, and a Canadian, it is not only my curse, but my civic duty to support him in this.  Anyone have some old gear I can borrow?

Oh well.  I guess it could be worse; at least I won't ever end up a soccer mom.

Wait... what week is it?

In the life of a stay-at-home parent there comes a time when you only know the day of the week because the school calls to ask why the child has not yet arrived.  Weeks blend into each other, and the day no longer matters as much as the time-of-day.

Remember when the oldest still napped?

 I haven't been doing this for very long, but it has happened. I can't remember if that thing that happened was yesterday, or last week, or happened to a friend of mine... and that's without the sleep deprivation that most mothers enjoy while Dad is catching a few zzz's under his desk at work. I didn't know "Stay-at-home-Dad-brain" was a thing. Maybe it isn't. Problem is I wouldn't remember anyway.

Whaddya mean it's not Hallowe'en?

Perhaps it's just the inevitable result of placating the toddler schedule daily, rather than embracing the onset of early-middle age by doing things that are more age-appropriate. My friends remind me that it's not normal to be out of the house "doing stuff" every day of the week. That the growing middle age spare tire is a natural way of God slowing us down. The laws of causality are often misinterpreted -- we should not be pushing through this degeneration, rather we should remind our children to do this part of parenthood earlier in their lives.

What??!! Oh that'll get me in trouble with the masses. 

Bear with me, this brief anecdote should explain a few things, and then you can go back to wishing you were younger when your children are hanging off your knees begging you to "play with them." I was 10 at my dad's 30th birthday party. Old enough to be helpful, but not too old to be any trouble. That made me 20 at his 40th. Old enough to be trouble, but young enough to think it was cool to be there with my girlfriend. That made me 30 at his 50th. Young enough to respect my elders, and old enough to keep my mouth shut... It really was the perfect system. He was my soccer coach for years, but as an adult, we often found ourselves on the same men's team. Did I find it awkward yelling for a pass from my Dad, yes... okay... but... I just started calling him by his first name, and people just started assuming he was my brother. He was the unruly one at my stag, and he still bikes 15km uphill to see his grandson during the week. 

Anyway... what's my point... I don't remember I'm a 33 year old stay at home dad. I'm about 10 years behind where I should be and the silver-streaks are getting clearer by the day. 

 By the way, my dad's birthday's just around the corner. I guess he has taught me something. I guess all that time was worth something. I guess I can be thankful I get all this time with my boys. 

 I think I'm gonna go make him a macaroni necklace.

Thanks Dad.

The End of the First Quarter

"At the end of the first quarter, the score is all tied up and thus far it seems no one
has dropped the ball.  Should we expect more of the same in the second quarter?
This, and more to come after the break..."

How does a dad learn to identify the difference between a common cold and the beginning of a major infection like strep?  We took it pretty easy the last couple of weeks, settled into the school structure, and found some routine.  By all accounts we were aiming for a perfect week, and better yet, the oldest got to have his VIP day at play-school.  Too bad he had a fever, and couldn't do much more than lie on the floor for the morning.  One of the saving graces in it all was that Dad had to be at school with him so when he finally put his head between his knees on the washroom floor we could pack up and go.

But this is just a cold right?

Guns:  You can almost see the smile...

We pushed hard over the weekend, alright, I may have disappeared on a men's retreat to shoot guns and ride horses and reacquaint myself with my masculinity while my wife struggled with her own cold at home with a sick-boy and a 1YO, but hey?  Who's to judge?


By Tuesday the cold hadn't abated, and we found ourselves with a screaming toddler, clutching his ears and shaking because his "breath hurt" and "his brain was making funny noise".

This is just a cold right?

Holistic medicine as per internet instructions here we come!  We can solve this without antibiotic intervention. We're heroes!  Plus we have wireless -  I actually followed this site pretty close to begin with - http://www.ehow.com/how_2308277_treat-earache-toddlers.html .  Please don't judge me.

We got him back to school by Thursday but all was not well with the world, so (as the plan had always been) it was time to go to the clinic and have him checked.

A look in both ears, and the tonsils and we were on our way home for antibiotics for strep.

Ew...

And so, already proud father of the loudest child on the planet, now he's got plugged ears...

But this blog isn't all about mistakes is it?  (As a matter of fact I believe I state in the subtitle that it is...)  Okay fine, here's another one...

Remember, beautiful music and a app enabled phone can make anything look good - proof below:


If a boy looks well after taking Tylenol he probably isn't quite up for a hike yet.
When I say hike, I mean technical, root-protruding, gravel-skreeing, and steep...
When I say steep, I mean switch-back requiring, forehead-grating, tear inspiring...
When I say tear inspiring, I mean Dad must step in and carry all three...
When I say all three, I mean I took the dog too.

Sure, I could have parked at the bottom of the hill and walked 1km to the river.
Or I could have parked at the top of the hill and walked 3km down-hill to the parking-lot and not make it to the river.

No one had any idea how far it was to the river...

See what I did there, I excused myself by pointing out that we stopped before I forced us to make it all the way to the river without even mentioning that I also took the dog.

So with one kid on my back in the Ergo(tm), one kid clinging to my side wearing the Platypus(tm), a backpack reversed on my front, and the dog leash looped over my Wrist(tm) -- wait, I can't (tm) a body part can I? I trudged back UP the hill (Yes dumb-dumb, if you walk the boys down the hill you have to find a way to get back up) proverbial tail between my legs.

The weather and scenery were beautiful and the boys were into it... even if it was a little much.


Why must men always want to do things that are manly?  Especially at times when their manliness is compromised by sickness?  Like even at 33, why do I still play soccer when I'm injured?  Why do I stay up too late on a night I know I'll be up early the next day?  Like watch women's beach-volleyball? 

I have an answer for all that:  Men like to learn, and we learn best when we've lived through our mistakes.

Can you spot the mistake?

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.