Rookie Dad: Cribs!

I've only seen The Youngling truly scared one time before last night. And last night wasn't violently raining and thundering without electricity.

No, last night was the first night that The Youngling would spending in her newly converted toddler bed. Gone was the one side of her crib and in its place were the mildly tacky metal half-railing things that, in theory, should keep her from rolling out of her newish bed and landing on the floor at 3:30 AM.
I made sure to get her extra tired before we took her up to bed. That way she would be less prone to tossing and turning and less likely to end up on the floor with a sudden thud. After her teeth were brushed it was off to bed.

At least that's how it was supposed to go. Instead of eagerly crawling up in to her bed, she stood in the corner and looked truly worried. "Where'd part go, Daddy?", she said in a concerned tone. Repeating it and crying as we both tried to talk her in to trying out her newish bed. She had even watched as I disassembled part of the crib and installed the mini-rails to prevent middle-of-the-night tumbles.

So I had to show her where the part went that I had removed. We padded the floor with some pillows and a quilt and even made a tumble-stopping log out of another quilt to put her at ease. Amazingly, not long after 9 PM, The Youngling was actually in her newish bed and stayed there the entire night -- even after her quilt log ended up on the floor.

This is one of the biggest steps yet, next week it's time to get her accustomed to driving.

Rookie Dad: Toddler vs. Charlie Sheen

It dawned on me recently that toddlers often string words together and form memorable quotes. Then I began thinking whether or not The Youngling's toddler-talk quotes made more sense than those uttered by Charlie Sheen in the past week. Let's compare...

Charlie Sheen: “Duh. Winning”

The Youngling: "Daddy booger nose."

(To me this one makes sense because I've had a cold for the past two or eight weeks, she sees me blowing my nose about 30 times a day. Unless Sheen is in some sort of competition, winning is a moot point.)

Charlie Sheen: “I’m a rock star from Mars”

The Youngling: "Mommy crazy time."

(This quote makes more sense to me too because Mommy's life is hectic and I thing that my daughter understands this -- as for Sheen being a rock star from Mars, come on, there's no oxygen on Mars. Next.)

Charlie Sheen: “I’m a Vatican assassin warlock!”

The Youngling: "Chocomilk fall over."

(Again my daughter wins this matchup. "Chocomilk fall over" is a coherent thought -- her chocolate milk obviously fell over. As for Sheen, he's just putting random words together and hoping that some of them form a coherent thought.)

In the end, my daughter wins this matchup 3-0. Her words are meaningful and form coherent sentences which most everyone would understand. But Charlie Sheen's final memorable quote sort of sums up why he lost a battle of words to a two year-old -- “I don’t know. All these words just sound cool together. They come from my grand wizard master”

Tow lessons to take away form this: never trust words given to you by your grand wizard master and never doubt that a two year-old can outsmart a drugged-up, borderline bi-polar Hollywood actor who says “Let’s hook up and just bring fiery death.”

Rookie Dad: She was the star of the halftime show

It seems like just yesterday that I was watching the Superbowl halftime show. The lights, the dancing, the singing... it was quite the spectacle -- and that was just in my living room. Yeah, anything packed with music and dancing is fair game for The Youngling to interpret in her own way and the Black Eyed Peas had nothing on my two year-old.

Much like the guy playing the cowbell for the Blue Oyster Cult, she really explored the space. Her dance routine went from the kitchen, down the hallway through the living room, into the dining and around again. There was dancing, shaking and even some singing. I actually think that The Youngling was more in-tune than any of the Peas were.

It amazes me that a child of thirty inches (more or less) tall has the energy and the talent to spontaneously perform and choreograph on the fly her own dance routine. I'm pretty sure that she even incorporated some sweet moonwalking into the performance and that, combined with her own homebrewed moves, made for a routine which spanned three or four decades of pop culture.

My mind was blown for a few moments when she actually stopped to watch the performance on TV because at that moment she began to sing along with the lyrics. Maybe her mom has been listening to alot of KDWB with The Youngling in the back seat or maybe she's some sort of Beethoven-like musical genius. Either way, she kept up entertained far better than the Black Eyed Peas did.

Rookie Dad: A routine E.R. visit

Sunday evening was a milestone for The Youngling. No, she didn't miraculously read a book all by herself for the first time. Instead, she got to visit the hospital.

Oh, she's been to the clinic multiple times but who hasn't? The trip to the hospital on Sunday evening wasn't much of an event (in my eyes) and like anythig else it began all-too innocently. As The Youngling sat next to me on the couch watching "The Simpsons", she reached for something or began wiggling her way off toward the floor and for whatever reason lost her balance. I couldn't catch her fast enough and she fell sideways, hitting her temple on the edge of the coffee table. She erupted in the loudest, shrillest cries I have ever heard and in mere moments there were more tears -- this time from her mom.

I sprung up and looked at The Youngling's temple which was now home to a plateaued goose-egg about the size of a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup. This sent us all in to action. It was instantly decided that we WERE going to the hospital -- NOW. I grabbed a few things -- including an ice pack and towel -- and we were on our way.

In the end, everything checked out. The very patient doctor looked in The Youngling's ears for bunny rabbits (her normal doctor is always on the lookout for butterflies so color me confused) and examined her reflexes and even her mouth where he stated he was very impressed with her shiny teeth. She did much better than the kid down the hall who sounded like he had broken every bone in his body based on his screaming.

After that ordeal it was back home where The Youngling was back to her normal self calling the cat "dumb" and pointing at the coffee table and saying "table, doctor, ow". I'd say that she has this whole cause and effect thing figured out. If only she can pick up some odd jobs to pay that upcoming bill off.

Rookie Dad: How to decorate for Christmas with a two year old

It's official. As of about two weeks ago The Youngling officially turned two years old. While that means a visit to the doctor next week where she'll be pricked with a few needles, weighed, scrutinized and measured, it also means that she's up to more hijinx than ever before.

Her latest adventures have included climbing up on to the toilet and exploring the treasures that await her in the over-the toilet cabinet, grabbing Christmas ornaments off the tree and proudly presenting them to anyone paying attention and pulling dining room chairs in to the kitchen and exploring everything on the counter and playing with knives.

The whole playing with knives thing has the wife worried and I know I should be more concerned as well but she's only ventured in to Ginsu territory. Contrary to the ads touting the cutting ability of Ginsu knives, these knives require a fair amount of pressure to actually accomplish some slicing. Nobody actually holds a Ginsu, throws a pineapple up in the air and slices it in half, that would break a Ginsu. So the knives, at least the Ginsu knives, don't worry me. Especially being that I've never cut myself with a Ginsu so how could it possibly be bad for a toddler to occasionally be holding a knife?

Outside of dangerous things, The Youngling is in the midst of experiencing her first "active" Christmas. Last year she was still in full-on crawling mode but this time around she is running, climbing and talking. Particularly amusing to her was last weekend as the two of us spent Saturday together decorating the yard for Christmas. I spent part of the day hauling penguins, Santa, reindeer, toy soldiers and bags of cords and tangled Christmas lights from the basement. With each giant plastic figurine she saw, The Youngling giggled gleefully, pointed at the figurine, touched it and proudly demanded "more, more!" as she ran around while I drug these dusty treasures from the basement through the house out to the front porch.

More fun came in seeing just what kind of focus a two year old has when it comes to following directions. As I strung lights up along our fence, I asked The Youngling to stay at least in the same area of the yard as I was in. Instead, after I focused for a minute on the task at hand then looked around to find the giddy two year old, I instead saw nothing. No child to be seen, just snow. Displeased with this development, I trudged around the side of the house and knew immediately to look in the porch where I found her having an impromptu tea party with her tiny mitten-covered hands fumbling with tea cups. This activity was soon replaced with her pushing a Tonka-like truck through the light covering of snow and in to my tangle of lights.

All told, I think I did a fair job handling the Christmas decorating tasks and The Youngling still has to peek out the second floor window overlooking the front yard every night to see Santa's village in the yard.

Rookie Dad: Just call her Hercules

It was Tuesday night when I laughed at what The Youngling did. After some brute force tugging and prying, she finally opened the refrigerator door. Then it dawned on me that she opened the refrigerator door. It instantly went from "Oh, that's sooo cute" to "Oh crap, how are we going to keep her out of the refrigerator?"

The rest of the evening we kept her occupied in other rooms of the house and silently hoped that she'd forget about the adventures that awaited her inside the refrigerator.

Then came a text message as I left the office Wednesday afternoon. "Had to tape the fridge shut, she won't stay out of it". I knew that this would not be good. It's like that coming day that many parents dread -- the day their child learns how to work door knobs and goes sprinting outside in to the elements wearing nothing but a diaper.

When I arrived home I had a good laugh at the new masking tape latch which the wife had installed while I was grocery shopping. It definitely took our ghetto-ness to the next level. All we need now is a car up on blocks in the front yard for The Youngling to climb all over and our transition is complete.

In all seriousness though, how long does the incessant exploring last? Last night she actually got the refrigerator open even with the makeshift tape latch haphazardly in place and proceeded to sprint through the house recklessly carrying a Gladware container of peaches... upside down. That mess would have been worse that Monday night's Mandarin oranges on the white area rug.

Oh well, you can replace home furnishings but you can't replace a childhood.

Rookie Dad: Five reasons why I couldn't be a stay-at-home dad

I took some vacation time this week and that means staying at home (for the most part) with my nearly two year-old daughter. Anyone out there with a child knows how much of a handful a child of that age can be. For whatever reason, mothers seem to be able to handle the kids better. Maybe it goes waaaaaaay back to the stone age where women raised the brood and the men hunted and gathered.

While The Youngling is still very much alive and happy, I know that her mother would handle things far better than I do. Which brings me to the five reasons I've noticed thus far (one day in) that I couldn't be a stay-at-home dad.

5.) This reason just walked in to my office and piled its supporting evidence on me. I can't get much done because this week The Youngling has an obsession with cereal and as I'm typing this she has just piled two boxes of it on me and another two boxes alongside my keyboard. I don't know how children seem to survive for days at a time on nothing but cereal but The Youngling is walking that line right now.

4.) Showering is a problem. I like to sleep. It's a necessity for all and a burden for some but I flat out enjoy it. I slept this morning until about 7:15 when I heard the all-too-common whining coming from the adjacent bedroom and knew it was time to get up -- which I did. But I still needed to shower. Even though I'm not going anywhere where anyone would care about my funky odor I still feel the need to bathe. So what's a guy to do?

3.) I don't understand "The Mickey Mouse Clubhouse" but it captivates children. It also allows me to tend to item number four. I've done it more than once. I sit The Youngling on the big bed and flip the TV in the bedroom to The Disney Channel and she will sit motionless but laughing and talking for a half hour at a time and that's more than enough time for me to remove said funk from my body. While the electronic babysitter is a wonderful aid to my morning routine I cringe every time I hear that Hot Dog, Hot Dog, Hot Diggity Dog song at the end of the episode.

2.) I miss people. Oh sure, I've talked to some random strangers while pulling The Youngling around in her wagon during out outings but I miss real conversation about things I care about and things I can relate to. Yeah, the weather is an excellent topic of conversation because it's non-offensive, safe and sure to be a short conversation but for once I'd love to strike up a conversation with someone I meet on a sidewalk about something controversial or even offensive like racism or same-sex marriage but most people would quickly resume walking and while I was stopped The Youngling would probably jump out of her wagon and dart off in to the street.

1.) It's tough taking photos while holding a child. Photography is one of my hobbies and I like partaking in it while using my vacation time. That has changed, though, with a child latched to my side. Sure, she can walk just fine but she rarely walks -- it's more of a slow sprint and that means she can get to places where she shouldn't be in very little time and I don't want to be that guy who has to call in a report of a missing toddler and explain how I was too busy taking photos to keep a close eye on The Youngling.

With all of those excuses out in the open I hope that my gracious employer will welcome me back on Monday because while I don't mind dealing with a plethora of dirty diapers and hours of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse I'd much rather be in my cubicle where there are surprisingly few diapers.