The Muppet Dictator

So much of my day at home is filled with Bucky testing my limits.

Just today I was writing an email when he slowly approached from behind and proceeded to see just how close he could get to my ear whilst creating a cacophony of sucking on his sippy-cup.  One could argue he didn't know I have a very sensitive bubble when working on the computer. Maybe he also didn't know that the sound of chewing, or mouth sounds in general, are perhaps my biggest pet peeve.  Or perhaps maybe he did know and decided to see what would happen when he put both of them together.  Well played Bucky. . . Well played.

There is also the foremost example of his boundary crossing expertise that happened the day Bucky approached me with his big wily smile and proceeded to start by gently patting my knee once and with each successive tap it grew harder and harder and harder. Each time the love tap was followed by "I'm hitting?" "I'm hitting?" and the shmarmy smile growing bigger and bigger. I'm on to you Bucky McBuckerson.

Of course, this is completely normal behavior for any 2yo.  They must discover the laws of the land and figure out what makes a hit, a hit.  But to say that I am easily able to dismiss this constant prodding, on the basis that it is simply human nature, would be completely inaccurate. I quickly go through the list of choices in my head of how best to manifest the mounting frustration.  There is the stink-eye, the timeout, the "Do you want me to decapitate your beloved stuffed animal giraffe Jimmy-John?". (The last of course is to cruel to ever use or even threaten with, but I can dream can't I?)  Although, the most naturally occurring reaction, in my equal opportunity home, is to return the favor to Bucky. I shall test his limits.

Another one of Bucky's common 2yo traits is wanting consistency and normalcy and things to be the same each and every time he encounters them.  Very often he'll walk into a room where we've just moved a stationary item and with the greatest look of concern he will inquire, "What happened here?"

Just moments ago, Mamma was reading Bucky his bedtime book.  Each night he chooses two books and has recently got in the habit of telling us around 12 times in rapid sucession that "This one be normal and this one be normal. Normal. Normal."  This is to make certain that no silly voices or word substitutions are used.  With Bucky's prologue finished, Mamma proceeded to read a book about sounds.  "Zoe's bell goes 'Ring! Ring!' Oscar's hammer goes 'Bam! Bam! Bam!' Telly's stopwatch goes 'Bplbhpphb! Bplbhbpp!'" "No!" Bucky exclaims, "Not like that!" Mamma laughs, but Bucky is all too serious and commands that she start again.  Mamma must have a hard time reading, because she messes up over and over again. Meanwhile, Bucky's reality is being tampered with and he is being pressed towards his limit.

Finding that fine line is the key. Go over it and you've created a tantrum and possibly some broken toddler synapses that can never be repaired.  It may be prudent to never even get close to that line to avoid such scenarios, but please remember, we're talking about revenge equality here.

So one day, after one of my above said manifestations was eagerly waiting to spill forth on to Bucky, we sat side by side on the couch watching a children's show that is very near and dear to him. Wonder Pets.

If you understand Bucky's need for universal harmony from above, you will understand why he loves this show.  It is consistent and unchanging.  The plot is ALWAYS the same. It goes like this.

The kids leave school. The Wonder Pets get a call on their tin-can phone. There's a baby animal in trouble. (I have to be careful writing this as I might burst out in song.) There's a problem with the fly-boat. They fix it with teamwork. They get to the baby animal. Just so happens the solution they found to fix the fly-boat is the same thing they need to save the baby animal! OH HAPPY DAY! Let's celebrate by enjoying a piece of celery!!

Yep. Each and every time. However, there was that one time where a stuffed animal giraffe ended up getting beheaded. Oh wait. That was my dream again.

Back to the couch. I seized my opportunity. "Hey Bucky, did they fix the shny-foat?" "The fly-boat," he responds with an agitated giggle. "Ohhh," I say. A moment later. "Is that the naby shnorcufline?" Without removing his gaze from the screen, "Baby Porcupine!" "Oh right. Baby Porcupine," I say. This correction on my behalf is much to his satisfaction and in turn allows me a few more rounds. "They're really good at cream turk!" "Team work!" This awards me a dirty look, and checkmate is insight. I go for the kill. "Hey Bucky. What's the name of this show?" "Wonder Pets." "Blunder Pets?" "Wonder Pets!" "Schnunder Getz?" "WONDER PETS!" "Grundy Underpants?"  And with the miraculous muppet unhinging of his jaw and all the fury of the Führer he slams his hand on the arm rest with each syllable, "WON. DER. PETS!!!" 

I have tested and reached the limit. I bask briefly in this victory, again for equality's sake, and then make sure he still loves me by announcing very articulately, "Wonder Pets."  He looks at me, laughs, and nods approvingly. Peace and unity have been restored to the universe. I too, of course, am having a good laugh and thinking all the while, "This is all very particular from a boy who also has affections for another TV show he calls, 'Bulb Day Burbur.'"


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Stay-at-Home Dad, stay at home dad, SAHD

Play-Doh Play-Date / SO YOU GET EXCITED!!

I have the privilege for the next three weeks of having an interim stay-at-home dad right next door. Lucky me. Garrett and his wife have just welcomed their secondborn and Garrett's enjoying his first week of paternity leave.  He has the privilege of not only watching their newborn and their 4yo daughter, Clare, but also another 3yo girl from their building, Angela. Lucky him.

With the agreement to always having coffee available to us, we decided it may be beneficial to our sanity if we would try to have our kids play together in the hope that one of our babies would be calm at a given moment allowing that baby's parent to apply some supervision and interaction with the toddlers.  That's the hope anyway.

We've been over to their place several times as an entire family and left our own disaster path.  I felt it was only fair to allow their kids to ruin my stuff now.  Within a few minutes of their morning visit, Clare and Angela found Bucky's new 20 color Play-Doh set.

Banana used to show actual size.

One of Bucky's characteristics is that he is very meticulous in keeping his things organized and notices when the smallest things are out of place.  We recently moved a few bags out of our room that had been there for several weeks.  For five subsequents trips through our room, Bucky has asked "What happened here?"  Books go with books. Blocks go with blocks. Trains go with trains. Mommy goes with Daddy.  When it comes to Play-Doh, colors are certainly separated if possible.  It's not a tragedy if we end up with some mixed, but it's never the goal.

As Clare descended upon the Play-Doh, her first agenda was to very thoughtfully share 4 of the colors and keep only 16 to herself.  After some hard bargaining I managed to emphasize the negatives of a monopoly in our hard economic times and earned my clients 1 extra color. So with her dwindling number of 14, Clare's next agenda was to make rainbow cake.  In fact this was indeed Clare's brilliant argument as to why she needed so many colors -- to make a big enough cake to then share with everyone.  With great speed and vigor that only a 4yo is capable of, the great baker layered and stacked her 14 colors and proceeded to make her great (pan)cake an inch thick.  Perhaps she meant biscuits, though as any good baker knows, to make a flaky biscuit you must fold the dough several times.  Indeed, Clare was making biscuits. When the folding had finished, the division of the dough was completed with a heart-shaped cookie cutter. We gratefully received our, not rainbow, but brown hearts. To Clare's credit, most baked goods are brown.

 As a side: Play-Doh is quite easy and inexpensive to make, and had Bucky shown aversion to this process I certainly would have stepped in. However, to my amazement he was quite happy with his 3 colors, and I'm a sucker for baked goods.

Crafted with love.

After Bucky's quiet time, I invited them over again to spend some time in the backyard.  While in the process of inviting them, I committed a cardinal sin of setting up a play-date and announced the planned activity to the group before first getting clearance from the other parent. "Who wants to run through the sprinkler?!" A joyous sound was raised by our younger members. And Garrett responded with raised eyebrows.  My oversight was that Angela did not have a swimsuit or a change of clothes.

I quickly came up with several other activities to try and get their minds off the sprinkler.  Distance makes the heart grow fonder.  The next hour was filled with playing in the sandbox, creating boundaries in the backyard, creating special water cups with their names on it, re-establishing boundaries, outlining their bodies with chalk and then coloring them in, and being demanded my philosophy on why the patio umbrella was only to be used as a patio umbrella and should be used as nothing else. We did everything except run through the sprinkler.  However, the sprinkler began as and remained the main topic of conversation.

After 45 minutes of first reasoning, then dodging, then distracting, then avoiding the question, "When are we going in the sprinkler?", I finally made my last stand and outright said, "We are not going to play in the sprinkler today, but we can on Wednesday when Angela can ask her parents to pack her a swimsuit."  That should work. How clever of me. "When are we going to run through the sprinkler?"  "If we do everything today there won't be anything left to do on Wednesday, and this way you can get EXCITED about it!"  This seems to satisfy Bucky and he quietly returns to his chalk outline. I don't think much of it other than that he is now bored of listening to me and wants to check out. I only receive paused puzzled faces from the girls. "Can we do the sprinkler now?" "No. On Wednesday." "Why Wednesday?" "It's something to look forward to."

Bucky did all his coloring on the right. He doesn't wear shirts . . . Just sleeves.

Thus far I've been nearest to the girls and therefore the responsibility of answering questions has fallen on me, but here Garrett interjects and says, "Are you guys listening to Marshall?" "Yes." "What did he say?" "We don't know." Oh they know.  And it's about here that I catch Bucky walking back towards the broken-record girls with a crumpled brow on his face.

The girls give it one last go. "Why do we have to wait until Wednesday?!?" Me. "I already told you." Garrett. "You two aren't LISTENING!"  And Bucky with the greatest 2.5yo voice and courage he can muster towards the older girls, "SO YOU GET EXCITED!!" . . . Argument ended.

Bucky was listening. I am so proud of him.

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Stay-at-Home Dad, stay at home dad, SAHD

Rest Stop(per)

Closing up the cabin this past weekend, I began feeling much more bluesy than I usually do when departing for home. I locked the cabin doors, made sure the boat was secure, bade farewell to the water and the open sky, and made my way to the driver's seat of our laden Corolla.

Things started out just fine on our four-hour car ride home. After we stopped for gas, Bucky was fast asleep within a few miles.  Even Jack, who we've found does not like to sleep in the car, was quiet and calm having just been fed with the strategically placed nursing session.  I even managed to find a decent route out of the Northwoods without getting lost. We made it a whole two hours without a stop.

An hour and a half into the trip, our second stop came after ten minutes of contorting our arms around the back of the front passenger seat to pacify Jack.  We first tried giving him his nookie, and although one of Jack's only duties in his young life is to keep his nookie in, he wasn't up to the challenge.  Next, we tried holding the nookie in while simultaneously covering his eyes.  Sometimes this helps. Nope. Finally, we resorted to trying to deceive him with the ol' suck-on-the-pinky trick to see if that would help. Again, no.

With wide-open arms, the Augusta Area Senior Citizen Center welcomed us to its deserted parking lot.  Bucky got a juice box and we found out that Jack really hadn't been hungry—he just wanted some face time. We topped him off anyway.  (Thank you, patient wife.)  In the meantime, Bucky and I helped ourselves to some of the recreational facilities.  Apparently there are some very spritely seniors from the Augusta area as we visited the swings, the merry-go-round, the 10-ft slide, the wooden jungle gym, and the full basketball court. We didn't happen across any seniors yelling "Bonzai!" as they went down the slide, but given the nature of these very able-bodies seniors they were probably out water-skiing or windsurfing on this beautiful Sunday afternoon. After Bucky climbed up and down to the fifth rung of the slide several times and after he enjoyed watching me meet his demands of going down the slide several times myself, we got back in the car to drive the remaining two and a half hours.

Thinking Jack may fall asleep with a topped-off belly, we made him a little blanket-tent over his car seat to provide a dark place, hoping it would aid his journey off to sleep. He allowed this hobbit hole for about forty minutes and then started complaining that he didn't like viewing the stripes of the blanket vertically and preferred that we make them horizontal.  So again we tried nookie, eye covering, pinky. No again.

Welcome to the Black River Falls Rest Stop.  We've long frequented this rest stop on our way to and from the cabin as it's provided the half way point and a good place to switch drivers.  We made the most of this stop and brought out some left over goodies from the cooler to enjoy at a picnic table.  With some heavy rocking of the car seat and some furious munching of pretzels with peanut butter, we started to see Jack close his eyes.

"Pee in the grass!" A trick Bucky learned from his cousin. I'm fond of this trick too, just not at a rest stop. "Do you need to poop or pee?" "Both." "Okay. You can just use your diaper this time." "Use the potty." Finally, we're getting somewhere with potty training! "Okay, let's go to the potty."  I grabbed the potty seat and off we went to use the fine establishment of the men's rest stop toilet with my toddler.

I swung back the door of the first stall and to my amazement it looked fairly clean, meaning there weren't any left-overs.  Shoes off. Pants off. No feet touching the floor. Diaper off. Place potty. Sit on potty.  So far so good.  As things got going someone initiated the launch sequence of the Xcelerator Hand Dryer. Coupled with the all-brick interior it sounded near enough to standing by a small plane engine. Bucky's hands flew to his ears. I quickly thought to make this a fun thing.  I covered my ears too and laughed and smiled.  This distraction worked once.

We actually got some good bonding time together and had the whole place to ourselves for a short moment. As we were seeing a man about a horse, Bucky reached down to brace himself by grabbing the sides of the toilet bowl. "No no no no no! Put your hands on your knees." He followed my orders like a champ, but as he leaned forward to grab his knees the toilet's motion sensor went off and the toilet flushed violently beneath him, threatening to suck him in. "What's happening?!" as he lurched up and wrapped his fingers under the seat. "No, on your knees. Don't touch the toilet." Two seconds later "Here?" And there were his hands touching the most foul spot of all; the rim right between the cut out of the seat. "NO! ON YOUR KNEES!" Cue the Xcelerator! Cue the toilet! Cue Bucky's germ-ridden hands cupping his ears and face as hard as he could!  "I no like it anymore! All done!"

We then washed our hands for two rounds of singing "ABC's". We did not use the Xcelerator.  As we passed by the over-confident woman that looked at me as though I was in the wrong bathroom, I thought "Hey lady! Don't look at me. Look at those urinals to your left." I also thought what kind of torture that must have been for a 2.5yo.  He was promptly rewarded with another juice box and a diaper wipe to his face.  With Jack fast asleep (or so we thought) we now only had an hour and a half left. We can do this!

Twenty minutes later, Jack's screams let us know that Exit 85 would be a perfect get-away.  We secretly knew that he wanted a peek at the gentlemen's club, Cruisin Chubby's. (Really?) Although we briefly contemplated stopping there to nurse Jack, we opted for a back entrance at a family campground across the street.  Here again, Bucky and I made the most of our new domain and made up a splendid game of run and touch.  Here are the rules if you want to play yourself. Run to that object. Touch it. Run back. That tree had never experienced so much love.

Back in the car, but only for 35 minutes. Good thing, too. I was getting cooped up.  With a shortage of places to pull off, we opted for a field road.  I will say that being forced to stop and see new places can be a good thing.  There are so many views that we will miss and never be able to see, and the view from this small Wisconsin country road was amazing.  A beautiful mix of hill and valley.  The clouds were sharply outlined by the brilliant hazeless blue sky.  The intermittent breeze played the grass meadow around us. Even the solitary oak that stood alone before us had a great majesty to it.

"Pee in the grass!" This time Bucky actually got to try it out. Although I'm not sure if it was successful or not. While Christy attended to nature boy, I was trying to get Jack to sleep by emulating the viking ship at the amusement park. Starting with some very high centripetal force and slowly working down to carousel excitement, I got him to sleep.  I gave Christy the thumbs up, Bucky got his pants back on, and the last 30 minutes were within reach.

Our little thrill seeker missed his carnival rides immediately, but this close to home we were not stopping. Down went our windows and up went the music.  Bucky was in a dancing mood so we turned on some hip-hop. The one rule Dancing Bucky enforces is that you must dance too, and you must dance as he requests.  "Faster Mommy and Daddy!"  Oh how I could have wished to be another driver passing by. To look out and see a young family of four, the toddler looking amazingly cute, the mother getting her stunningly good driving moves on, a baby bellering at the top of his lungs, and the father mashed up against the dash because of the car seat behind him, flailing his limbs like he may have lost voluntary control of them.  Amazingly enough, Lil' Wayne's "Lollipop" seemed to calm Jack down a bit.  Perhaps a substitution for not being able to visit Crusin' Chubby's.

Five stops and six hours later, our trip was complete.  We had made it home.  All the blues that I felt just so recently were gone and washed away, along with the much needed rest we had received. The cabin had felt forever ago and in a very distant place.

Within fifteen minutes of being home, Jack was also in a very distant place.  He fell asleep and stayed asleep for six hours.


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Stay-at-Home Dad, stay at home dad, SAHD

A Try at Bottle Feeding

This is very much their personalities right now. 

Bucky, the somewhat over enthusiastic helper and Jack the particular little dictator.


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Stay-at-Home Dad, stay at home dad, SAHD

Adult for a Minute

I'm not sure what catalysts led to this self revelation, but I'm sure there were a great many things that had happened in the past few weeks, months, or years for such a thought to take place.

Perhaps it was the matching night stands we purchased and assembled for our bedroom after just shy of 5 years of marriage. Their predecessors were well on their way to retirement from the nightstand business. The first, was a four-drawer dresser inherited from Christy's great-grandmother. This, of course, was on Christy's side.  Not a bad piece of furniture at all. We just thought something matching would be better. The dresser, will remain with us and perhaps one day receive the title of "dresser". The second, was a wire framed microwave stand covered with a scrap piece of brown burlap cloth. This, of course, was on my side.  Although hideous, this piece of furniture was not all together bad.  I'll really miss my midnight hot-pocket with the added convenience of never having to have exposed my delicate little toes to the frigid night air.  90 second pepperoni pizza was just an arm's reach away.  The microwave stand will be leaving us.

Perhaps it was the commencement of this blog and more reading in general which has been a recent addition to my daily diet.  Two weeks ago, I finished Ayn Rand's Atlas  Shrugged. 1200 pages of deep philosophy, thinking and polotics. If you ask me if I think it's worth the read, I might raise my shoulders slightly and momentarily to express doubt, ignorance, or indifference. I'm also currently enjoying my first Dickens' novel Oliver Twist. I'm sure I was suppose to have already read Dickens elsewhere in life, but I'm not sure I would have appreciated his wit and poignancy until now.  I'm really enjoying chasing young Oliver around London. There are so many unexpected changes and/or surprises in the plot development. And then there's this blog which is the most extraordinary thing I've ever read.


Perhaps it was taking a stand against a bully for the first time in my life.  Christy had invited a friend over who is by no means a regular at our building.  Upon our guests arrival and hearing the access door open, Christy made a move to greet our guest at the door, but before Christy had the chance to turn the knob our neighbor across the hall houdinied into the foyer and accosted our guest. "From NOW on make SURE you don't park SO CLOSE to the mulberry tree." On my own way to the door I'm thinking "That really could not just have happened."  After our friend escaped the claws of death and made it safely into our unit, I could see the look of pure befuddlement on her face.  After confirming the offense I went door knockin.  This is what I told our welcoming neighbor. "PACHOW!" Sadly, it took 3 prior incidents for me to actually call her on something.

All this to say, as I entered in to Bucky's room last night as he was still falling asleep, he gave me the sweetest Bucky smile with the sweetest Bucky voice that said simply, "Hi Daddy."  This Man at Home can melt occasionally.  Although I wanted to cuddle I knew doing so would lead to another hour of awake time, and I also knew I had to stick to the task at hand. Diaper Duty. So with all the elements of the afore mentioned and the sweetness of this Bucky moment, as I carefully loaded my good night treasures into a grocery bag to be transported to a more permanent home, the thought, feeling, emotion and statement were all upon me for the first time in my life.  "I'm an adult."

For that brief moment, I could sense a vast array of new doors to be explored. Wisdom. Responsibility. Productive. Contributor to Society.  I'd always known about these doors and had been told stories about them and how they actually existed, but it wasn't until now that I got to see them face to face.  And what was more is that in my childhood I had been so afraid to enter these doors, but now that they were tangible the fear was gone and I was now able and confident to take on such pursuits!  And just as  Bucky's and Jack's contributions to the day disappeared into the garbage can, so too did my momentary peek at true adulthood.





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Stay-at-Home Dad, stay at home dad, SAHD

The Womb Room

I  tend to think of Jack, and infants in general, as a Rubik's cube.  It can take hours or, more realistically, months to figure out what makes them tick, but once you know the secret solution you can replicate it more and more easily.  Okay scratch that.  They're more like a intricate 1000 piece puzzle that you work on relentlessly day and night and when you finally assemble it, the puzzle allows you to look at it in accomplishment for a brief moment and then blows up and the picture changes entirely and immediately demands you put it together again. Yeah, that's probably more apt.

The good news today is that we're in that narrow window of looking at Jack with accomplishment.  Jack's idol must be Steven Tyler because thus far in his brief stay with us he hasn't wanted to close his eyes, fall asleep, or miss a thing.  Maybe we shouldn't have sat him in front of that 3 day "Armageddon" marathon on TBS.  Being so, he's recreated an Armageddon type atmosphere in our home.  Really though, it has not been too terrible, or at least nothing less than I expected.  However, in the middle of a screaming baby session, repeating that expectation to myself does not seem to remove my stress and frustration received from a fussy baby. So, the biggest goal on my agenda has been figuring out what gets Jack to sleep and what keeps him sleeping.

Although he slept well as a new born and has always slept pretty well at night, the last 6 weeks, during the day, have been filled with a lot of -ings: rocking, swinging, bouncing, smooshing, nuzzling, spooning, walking, skipping, swaddling, but the elusive sleep-ing has been a rare visitor.

When I discovered the Bouncy Chair Method it seemed to at least calm Jack down and on a rare occasion get him to sleep, if it was correctly performed to his standards.  The standards are as follows: curtains drawn, Jack in the bouncy chair, calming vibrations on, my foot delivering constant but variable speeds of bouncing, and me sitting with in view and focusable distance of Jack. Miss any of these and the game would be up. I soon realized I would not be getting much accomplished. However, this sacrifice would allow for a non fussy baby.   And although this process allowed me to make 19 episodes worth of new best friends in Jack Donaghy and Liz Lemon, we really needed to find something that was a little less restricting. What was most frustrating with the Bouncy Chair Method is that I knew we were close to achieving sleep success, but with the trial of countless variations this near goal seemed very far.  Why couldn't he just use his extensive vocabulary to tell us?

Deep in the Womb Room

Then yesterday we had a break through. We recreated the womb. By chance, or by near daddy meltdown, I moved Jack into Bucky's room in the late afternoon.  Having already established the basic foundations of the Bouncy Chair Method, the other missing elements revealed themselves like the aligning of the stars.  Darkness, Heat, Moisture, Noise and Position.  Bucky had just got up from his nap and being so, I had had the light blocking curtains drawn, which in turn had captured the heat of the sun passing through the south facing window, which helped heat the wet diapers sitting on the counter and humidify the room. (I thought of omitting this last element, but it is crucial to the plot.) Along with the fan, already on, adding white noise, the room was like a rainforest oasis or perhaps, to Jack, the womb. Within seconds of entering the room, my little master was closing his eyes, pawing at his face, and trying to turn strongly to one side. After a little quarter turn help from dad and momma's smooshing blanket idea from behind, Jack fell fast asleep. He remained asleep for over an hour.

So here I sit, feeling wonderful about myself, in this small little window of success that Jack has afforded me.  Perhaps, and probably so, it will all change in a week, but as for today, the Womb Womb Method has been successful twice. The days first visit for nearly 2 hours and the second is ongoing.  With a giant sigh of relief during this momentary respite, I'm digging out the humidifier to take the place of the fermenting diapers.

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Blogging Events:

• Make Bucky breakfast
• Make Daddy coffee
• Assist Bucky for potty time and potty prize
• Make forts/tents with Bucky
• Bucky tries bottle feeding Jack
• Daddy takes over
• Change mid-bottle blowout
• Finish bottle feeding
• Put Jack down for 2nd Womb Room time
• Get Bucky a snack: Pretzels and Milk
• Make play dough apples with Bucky
• Wipe Bucky's nose x23

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Stay-at-Home Dad, stay at home dad, SAHD

Serious about Supper

If time allows, I truly love making a good meal from scratch.  For me there is something about taking raw ingredients, mixing them together, applying a little heat, rearranging it in to an aesthetic artwork, and then devouring it in about a tenth of the time it took to make it.

I've always been fascinated by the idea of eating as a social concept.  I'm not sure of any other species out there (please correct me if I'm wrong,) that prepares it's food as we do, sits down together as we do, and enjoys it as we do.  In it's simplest form, eating is something we must do to sustain our selves.  And although not everyone can, we have the great fortune of taking that necessity and transforming it into an indulgence and an experience to bond over.

More than just tasting something wonderful on the palette together as a group, eating together also plays a very important part in our social togetherness.  In a hectic home, it is a time each day where we can all be together for one brief shining moment.  And more than that, due to the endorphin-releasing nature of good food, it is much like having a couple alcoholic drinks and allows us to open up and really talk to each other. With a world that is increasingly staring at screens and (dis)connecting electronically, it forces us to actually look at one another and use the aging method of speech to communicate. I, myself, am far too guilty of having a conversation with my wife while staring at a screen.  (What was it that she asked me to do today? . . . Oh well.)


Yep. A good, nutritional, and nourishing meal can take time to make.  As a parent, time is something we obviously have little of.  I'm sure as my boys grow I may raise the white flag and opt for the grilled cheese and juice box more than I should.  However, I hope to never revert to the basic necessity of eating to satiate my hunger and forgo the invaluable benefits of sitting down for 30 minutes each evening to enjoy a good meal and good conversation. I already know as my family grows and ages that I hope to keep family meals a priority.

As of now our boys aren't quite into the full fledged entrees that I make.  Jack is adamant about continuing his breast milk fast for the next few months, and although Bucky is getting used to some mixed foods, he's all about eating raw fruits and veggies for supper.  However, (and again I'm often guilty of the opposite,) taking the time to connect after work with my spouse is and should be a priority. Supper is the perfect venue for this.  Bucky eats with us, but usually finishes very quickly.  Once he's done, we've begun telling him that he must play by himself and we won't be able to help until Mom and Dad are both done eating.  If we use this time properly, it is a great benefit to not only mine and Christy's relationship but in turn our relationships with our kids.

Of course, this topic is much more expansive than what is here and hopefully in the future I'll be able to expand and be much more articulate on this passion of mine.  But for now, simply put . . .

Eat Together. Eat Real Food. Eat at the Table. Eat Together.
(Yes, I did write "Eat Together" twice. It's that important.)





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Stay-at-Home Dad, stay at home dad, SAHD

Potty Prizes and Quiet Time Surprises

On and off for the past 4 months we've been trying to potty train Bucky. We had some great initial success with the number two's, but the realist side of me said this was too easy. It turns out, that 2 months into it Bucky could care less whether he used the potty or his diaper. He wasn't opposed to the toilet, but rather indifferent. Pretty normal shenanigans (so I'm told.)

Thus far we've enticed him with a solid portion of chocolate chips, which has lost its initial luster but still holds some value for when he craves them. I then turned to logic and reasoning as Bucky actually has an unnatural amount of each thinking that this would work. "Only babies poop in their diapers. Big boy's poop in the potty." And blatant repetition, "Poop in the potty. Not in the diaper." - x1000. After a month of the logic and reasoning, Bucky could recite ever rule and every reward to using the bathroom. Still his preferred bowel movement sanctuary remained his diaper.

Finally, after discovering his natural #2 rhythm (just after Sesame Street, and during his quiet time), I would hound him relentlessly during the closing credits and just before QT. "Do you want to use the potty?" "No" "Do you have to poop?" "No" "Okay, if you have to go potty let me know/ask for help/come out of your room." "Okay." "Where do you poop?" "In the potty!" "Where do you not poop?" "In my diaper!" Checking on his quiet time 10 minutes later, if often reminded me of what it must have been like walking in to Lazarus's tomb.

There is a part of his mind set that I can't argue with. The idea of being able to relieve yourself wherever and whenever you want does have its allure. However, wiping only one butt instead of two was much more important to me. I needed to come up with something new. Something visual. Some form of bribery.

Potty Prizes:

This program is still in its infancy, but I'm already seeing hopeful results. I went off to FedEx Office with 6 images of things Buckeye loves. In no particular order: Bubbles, Fungooms, Chocolate Chips, Diego et al., Chocolate Milk, and Popsicles. I printed them out in 3x4 color and stuck them with velcro to the opposite wall of the toilet. Each time he deposits a gift or stays there for 8 minutes he's able to collect a potty prize. (After washing his hands) he tears one off with only the joy that a toddler can have over chocolate chips and races to wherever the prize may be. He then cashes in his token and then has 5 more chances through the day. However, if by chance he does fill his diaper, dear PaPa gets to take one away.

We really don't want to get angry or upset with him if he continues to use his diaper as his first choice and don't want anything to seem like a punishment when it comes to potty training. So part of the reason I came up with this idea is that it reminds me of the phrase I always here about driving and driver's licenses. It's a privilege not a right. These prizes are privileges not rights and therefore when one is taken away it shouldn't feel like a punishment. The catch comes that I may not see it as one, but what if Bucky does? I know I said that he's got a high sense of reasoning, but even I struggle with right and privilege. Luckily, he's had a few taken away now and no melt downs. I think we'll be alright.

So three days in and 7 deposits at the potty and 2 in the diaper. So far so good. I'll let you know.

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Quiet time for Bucky happens everyday at 1. Just after lunch. He can choose whether he would like to nap or not. If he does it means some quiet time for Daddy. If he doesn't it means an earlier bed time. We set the timer for 30 minutes and when it goes off some times he is asleep and others he runs out and screams "Timer goes off!"

Usually if he chooses not to sleep he's very good about staying in his bed and reading the books or playing with the couple toys we let him have during that time. Today was much different.

Today, by luck, I had Jack asleep for one of his cat naps and Bucky in for quiet time at the same time. I'm slightly addicted to low tech internet games and decided to sneak a few minutes in. From where I sit at the computer I have a clear shot down the hall to Bucky's door. About 20 minutes in, (10 minutes before the timer is set to go off,) I see blonde flash of light out of the corner of my eye. It is Bucky's head sticking out of his door watching me, waiting for me to notice. He's been a sweet boy all day and I invite him to come sit with me.

My fault here is that I failed to go see what Bucky had been up to during his quiet time. I asked him the obligatory, "Did you poop in your diaper?", but that answer came up negative with a visual check. For this is the reason he usually interrupts his quiet time. I pass it off as he is just not tired.

30 minutes later when I am very proud of him for initiating the Potty Prize plan on his own, I head to his bedroom to grab a new diaper. I enter his room and again I capture a flash of white out of the corner of my eye when not expected. This is the sight I received:

Not only had he taken out all the new diapers of the box I had just opened, but he had also transferred and emptied the used diapers to his bed. (Speaking of Lazarus's tomb.)

How could I be mad? To his credit he did it very quietly.


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Stay-at-Home Dad, stay at home dad, SAHD

Timing

Jack (2 months) and I go back and forth most of the day. I find that having impeccable timing is crucial when it comes to having his bottle ready. If that bottle isn't ready within the given window of about 20 seconds, I know we are going to have at it. Accomplishing this is no small feat, as I am still getting the hang of the exact time it takes to heat up a bottle and how to achieve the one degree temperature variance that Jack allows me.

A lot goes into this equation. More than the commoner would think. Is the milk frozen? Is it thawed? Has it just been pumped and night quite cool yet? What kind of bottle is it in? How much milk is there? How long should I heat the water? How much water should I heat? How much should I give him?

He would also claim he gives me fair warning when he's about ready to eat by, if he is sleeping, tilting his head 5 degrees to the right (his right or my right always confuses me) and if he is awake, a half second vocal release that is not an A or B but a B flat. Get that wrong and I've wasted a bottle.

In my week and a half at home I've been hit or miss. Have that bottle ready, and the day is a dream. Miss it by a moment and I'm under Master Jack's foot for the rest of the day.



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Stay-at-Home Dad, stay at home dad, SAHD

At Home

When our first child, Bucky, was born in January of '09 it was me who was out in the working world and my wife who graciously stayed home. When we saw the wonderful benefits of what running our own business could be we jumped at the opportunity and tried our hand at publishing classic books. Cricket House Books. We could make our own schedules, work from anywhere, and most important to us, we could each be with Bucky every other day.

Things were absolutely wonderful. We were making enough money to get by and the amount of time each of us were able to spend with our son was obviously invaluable. After 9 months of this utopia, our book sales were single handedly wiped out by a change in Amazon's algorithm. Needless to say it was a very difficult decision that we had to make for one of us to go find a job elsewhere.

It had always been a discussed option that I would be willing to stay at home with the kids if need be, and Christy having felt a little cooped up when she was home alone with Bucky decided to put this option in to effect. So as of October of last year I joined the ever growing profession of "Stay-at-Home Dad." In 2003 the number of stay at home dads was 98,000. In 2010 that number was 158,000. At Home Dads. Of course this number pales in comparison to the 5.6m women who stay at home, but it is apparent that the number of men choosing to stay at home is receiving exponential growth.

My wife has now been employed elsewhere for 10 months (with the exception of having 2 months off to welcome our second child, Jack), and I have been home during that time loving it up. I am no super human and I definitely have my points of severe frustration, but what an absolute blessing that I am able to spend each and every day playing and laughing, creating and inventing, imagining and dreaming, and loving and teaching.

With this blog I hope to share these experiences and wonders that only can be found between a parent and a child. What we eat and what we play, and what makes us laugh and what makes us cry.

Thanks for reading.


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Stay-at-Home Dad, stay at home dad, SAHD