Peeking at Daddydoo's Diary

Hey folks,  Mike here with a new post.  Missie wrote about a few confessions of hers, reflecting on her parenting skills (which are amazing if I say so myself).  Here is my crack at it:

1) Carina takes Disney princess gummy "vimamins" every morning...

...and so do I.  My vitamins taste the way cat barf smells.  The Disney princess gummies taste like gummy bears and have all the same stuff.  Win.

2) Every parent out there probably knows a few cartoon theme songs/songs from kids movies.  In our case, the songs from Super Why were first.  Lately, it's been the theme to Sofia the First, and (thanks to Pandora and a CD my mother gave us) a princess song from The Little Mermaid, Beauty and the Beast, Princess and the Frog, Aladdin, Tangled, Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, or...  yeah one of those.  Here's the confession part.  I'm not complaining about it - I rock out to A Whole New World, and will probably tear up when, at the start of an episode of Sofia, I don't hear a little voice say "Daddydoo gotta sing it, singa Princess Sofia!!"  Notes are too high for a guy who sang baritone in high school and college you say?  My falsetto pwns yours.

3) I am terrified of Aurelia headbutting me and will be so happy once the occasional baby head flops are gone (the loss of other baby phases is sad, but not this one). Why am I afraid?  Because Carina headbutted me when I was a new dad, and her forehead hit my chin.  I left a tiny dent in the skin on her head.  It was barely noticeable, but I sure as hell could see it.  I think it's gone now, but for months, I was reminded that yes, I dented my kid's head.  When we fight during her teenage years, maybe this will come in useful, but until then, I'll still look apprehensively when the light hits her little forehead to make sure the evidence is gone.

4)   I'm afraid that because of the hours I work, Carina and Aurelia are used to me not being there.  As it is, they both giggle when I walk in at the end of the day.  Sometimes Aurelia reaches out to me when she's cuddled up to Missie in our bed.  But on Saturdays or Sundays when I run into lab, Carina runs after me and says, almost exasperated "Carina go to work with Daddydoo, go see Dinosaurs" or Aurelia lets out a whimper or fuss as I give her back to Missie when I leave.  I walk out the door and tear up as I turn the key, and I hope my little ladies will understand that I'm putting in the time to give them opportunities and good life down the road.

5) I want my girls to be better than me.  I have high standards for my own behavior and interactions with other people, and to be honest I don't always live up to them - those moments really stick with me and I try to learn from them but mostly I just feel badly, which isn't helpful to anyone.  I hope my girls get it right way more than I do because, and this applies to many situations in parenting and my career in academia/education as well, I'm not sure how to teach and discipline certain things when I know I struggle with them too.   It's pretty scary and I hope my little ladies one-up their Daddydoo in this one.

Well folks, that's what I've got. Parenting is what I call a "full-life" experience - we run the full gamut of emotions, from being happy and celebratory, to being just a little embarrassed sometimes, to feeling proud, having regrets, being afraid, and being fearless because we have to be.  These early years and I think probably every year to come are what remind us of the range of who we are as people.  I love every minute of it, even the hard stuff.

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This week's Toddle Along Tuesday topic is Dad Confessions! If you can't convince your man to actually write the post, ask him what some of his confessions would be and transcribe! Or? I bet you have a few things you could write about on his behalf, without him even knowing about it ;) There are no rules here, except that you link up a relevant post (old or new) rather than your whole blog.


Next week's topic will be A Day in the Life! It's been exactly one year since we've done this topic, I thought it would be fun to revisit it.

One Year Since the Wild Ride

Hey mommas of the blogosphere, Mike here. It's been one year since we left Madison, WI to start the next chapter of our lives together.  In the last year we've grown our family with Aurelia, our sweet pea, I started and have really enjoyed a new research position at Yale, and we've had so much wonderful time with family.  What we have never really shared, however, is just how we, and I mean all of us, got out here.  Melissa and Carina hopped a plane, flew to Philly, and enjoyed a few days with my family.  Me? Well, on the eve of the one year anniversary of my odyssey to pick up my ladies in Philly, here is the full story of my eastward trek with Rufus, Layla, and our over-loaded station wagon - five states, 900 miles, and one hundred and forty ounces of coffee in a single, 17-hour wild ride across I-80.

Episode I: A Journey Begins
My alarm went off at 3:00 am on Wednesday, November 30th, 2011. Prior to leaving I had to, God help me, get the kitties into their carrier.  A friend had told me about this kitty valium they had and gave me a few tablets.  You give it to your cats, and supposedly they konk out in an hour and then you drive wherever you want.  Rufus and Layla ate their little 'treats' and...

...got reeeaaaallly pissed off.  So at 4:00 am, I picked up one cat in each arm and tried to stuff them into the carrier together.  Layla went #1 on her brother, and a stink-laden furball churned through our empty apartment.  Take two - one cat in, two cats in, close and latch the door, done - whew!  We all made it into the car and left Madison at 4:30am, getting to the outskirts of Chicago by sunrise and after only one 20 oz cup of coffee.

Episode II: The Stench
The smell in the car was overpowering.  I don't know who did what on who, but it was vile.  I pulled us all over at the nearest rest stop, prior to heading through the Windy City.  I picked up coffees number two and three (ounces 21-60), a bunch of paper towels, and a big bottle of water for my feline companions.  With a paper towel in each hand, I cleaned up the kitties, and put them onto the blankets in the back of the car that covered our stuff.  I didn't even bother with the cat carrier this time. Unfortunately for me, the rest of the ride was perfumed with eau de litter.

Rufus slinking about and Layla looking out the trunk window

Episode III: The Fight
We hit a traffic jam.  Chicago rush hour is horrific, this coming from a Philly guy.  However, the baddest 'tudes on the road were not held by Joe Schmo Bears Fan, but instead by Layla and her brother, who were still obviously high on kitty valium.  I'm not sure who hissed first or threw the first paw, but I heard, suddenly, a Hollywood-quality cat snarl.  Looking in my rear view mirror, a raging vortex of gray and black fur was rolling from the trunk to the passenger seat and back again.  The volume go so loud, I turned around and screamed SHUT UP!  Their response: HISS!!! Simultaneously at me.  Great, I'm going to die by furballcarwreckinferno.  I managed to honk the horn when I turned to yell at my tripping cats, which also earned me some "you are such a nice person" response honks.

Episode IV: @#$%@@#!!!  
We made it through the traffic jam with Layla on the floor under my feet and Rufus in the back meowing non-stop.  I had to pull over.  Cue up the next forty or so ounces of coffee and an early lunch.  We then embarked out through flat, straight, 75-mile-an-hour Indiana.  A breeze, or so I thought.  You definitely get highway hypnosis in this state.  At that precise moment, Rufus thought it would be a good idea to sneak up for an apologetic scritch'n'snuggle.  From the back seat, he leaped up onto the parking break, and then up onto the dashboard and stretched out.  Ahem,  

"OH MY GOD WHAT ARE YOU DOING GET DOWN AAAAAAAHHHH!!!!!" (edited for copious profanity)

I scooped him up and threw him backwards over my head into the backseat and redirected the car from the shoulder into which we had swerved rapidly at almost 80 mph.  He was fine, I was not.  My heart-rate went through the roof, my palms were sweaty, and I stopped just outside of Toledo, Ohio, ate a bit, and refueled on coffee (the ounce count is up to 120).

Content and/or other value provided by my partner, Kia Motors

Epilogue: Our next big step
I made it to Philly without too much more trouble at about 11:30 pm.  I got a little sick from rest stop food and stopped in Western, PA, and had some snow to deal with for the last four hours of the ride. That last bit was neat though; I was bringing winter with me.  I arrived to my loving family in Philly, we shared some champagne, and I forgave the cats in about 48 hours.  The last leg brought us to our current home in New Haven and so began the current chapter of our lives back east.  It was an unforgettable trip across about a third of our country, giving me memories that I'll never lose, and a wonderful marker of the biggest transition yet for our growing family.

Parenting by the seat of your pants

Mike here while Mama G takes a well-deserved evening to pamper herself a little bit.  Carina and many of your little ones are at an age when they no longer sleep/wake in really regular cycles, but are now powered by nuclear reactors that go from full-blown fission to dead cold a few times a day, and not always predictably.  It’s a lot of work to adjust the new ups, downs, all-arounds, and ‘how-the-hell/where-the-hell did you do/get/destroy/learn-to-say that’s.’

             

With Mama G now 32 weeks along baking little princess number 2 and it being the heat of the summer, I do most of the active playing on weekends and evenings when I’m home from the lab.  It’s lots of fun, and you learn on the fly how to/how not to get your kid out and around.  Keeping the little ones active and getting them to want to be is really important to me – I love a good TV show as much as anyone, but I also like to try and be active and was all the time as a little guy.  So with this intro in mind, here are a few things I’ve done to get Carina up and going so we can focus that little ball of energy and get her having some fun.  I titled this ‘by the seat of your pants’ because like anything else that’s new in life, you mess up sometimes – see below for the juicy, smelly, and sometimes a little painful details.

Daddy Monster

We start this one with, “Mommy, what do you see here?”

“I see a tasty baby” says Mama G.   

I then transmorgrify into the Daddy Monster and say (in a voice a whole lot like Trekkie Monster from Avenue Q, God help me when/if Carina ever realizes that someday), “DO YOU KNOOOOOW WHAT DADDY MONSTERS DO TO TASTY BABIES?!!!! WE EAT THEM! HAM-HOCKS! OM NOM NOM NOM NOM NOM” And then proceed to raspberry and chomp the peanut’s little legs, hands, tummy, and cheeks.  She goes wild, giggles, belly laughs, and I melt, thus transmorgrifying back into my sappy self and end with a big hug.  A wonderful moment everytime…

…except when her diaper fails to contain pee, and then it’s vile beyond words.

Get Daddy

This one’s pretty simple.  I say “Carina, can you get Daddy?” And then run away as if my 20 lb, two-and-a-half foot tall peanut is Godzilla – this is a fair comparison in reality.  She charges across the room, ‘tackles’ me, and then jumps up and down on my tummy and face until she’s tired out.  Great one before naptime. 

Also a very easy way to get covered in dookie if you forget to check the LO’s diaper before playing.  Last Saturday morning was a disaster.

Get Carina

The reverse of before.  I chase her all over the house, she slams doors to try and get away, and we end with belly laughing and a baby over my shoulders as I run up and down the block outside.  The judgemental look on my bitter-beer-faced neighbor lady who was walking her yap dog was the best .  Lady, yes I am nuts, and yes I run all over the house with my little one.  I will do so for as long as she doesn’t realize what a big dork I am.  And then I think I’ll be pretty sad, until I get to embarrass boys she brings home by reliving her childhood in theatrical fashion in my boxer shorts.

A good old-fashioned sword fight

This one is a worthwhile how could you teach your child that rant parent-teacher conference.  It’s no secret I love a good sci-fi or fantasy yarn.  At trip to the Connecticut Renaissance Fair earlier this summer, Mama G bought a wooden sword for our little lady.  I, naturally, already had a plastic pirate sword from one of several previous Halloween costumes that take advantage of my genetically superior chest hair.  The only reasonable course of action was to give my little lady her sword, wield mine, hold it over my head, and charge across the room.  She raised hers, chopped my legs, and left me sprawled out on the ground.  What happened next in my epic battle with “The Sword Maiden of the Middlewest” is best explained in the video below:

Alright folks, I hope this brightened up your week. Get your kids up, active, and doing things they love, and try and open them up to some of the things you love – this last bit will, I think, be the subject of my next post, so stay tuned, and have fun romping with your tots!

HEY UNIVERSE CHECK OUT MY HAMHOCKS!

Mommas of the blogosphere, Mike here with a special rant on an obscene baby product ‘review’. With summer approaching, I’m sure those of you out there with little girls just can’t wait to get your babies out on the beach to enjoy the sun. I know many of you are fashion conscious for your little ones and lest you dress up your toddlers in cute tutus and floaties, there just aren’t many options for summer beach fun.

However, now no one needs to worry. You can now parade baby girl down the by the sea as the little hussy that you always hoped she’d grow up to be without struggling through those pesky teenage years first. I present you with:

The HoochieSuit! (infant and toddler sizes available)

Okay, so let’s be honest Mommas and pardon the sarcastic opening. This isn't really called a HoochieSuit. But it is real, and marketed for baby girls. My definitive and absolute judgment is that this suit is friggin’ ridiculous. I’ll be hesitant to get baby girl in a two-piece when she’s a teenager so the thought of letting her strut her stuff before she can flipping strut is just mind-blowing. Who the hell thought this was a good idea!?? What’s next? – baby butt-floss?!!! Women and girls of all ages have enough trouble with oversexed media images telling them how to slut it up on the cheap as it is, and now people are seriously trying to get parents to put their little ones in toddler pasties.

Deep breath, Mike. The fact is, I have one baby girl, and now we have little Aurelia due in September. I am realistic and acknowledge that if they want to dress like teenage and college girls do when they are those ages, I’m not going to really get in their way. With Missie as their Mom, they’ll know how to be, someday looooooong in the future, (gulp) sexy and tasteful. But I’ll be damned if I put them in something that screams “HEY UNIVERSE CHECK OUT MY HAMHOCKS” when they are in effing diapers.

Raising girls will be a challenge, but one that I welcome. I want our girls to grow up as responsible young women – they have a tremendous example in their mother. As their father, I’ll be protective and understanding, and combative as hell when I think the world is trying to put my baby girls in places and situations that draw negative attention and, let’s face it, demean women.

Okay, so I haven’t really calmed down yet, but here’s the truth. This bathing suit crosses the fine line between cute and tacky by about a light year; don’t put your girls in it. As a former colleague told me when I let him know that I would be the father of a beautiful baby girl while Missie was baking Carina:

“You know what job number one is, right? Keep her off the pole.”

7 ways to flambe an annoying toy

(read: My pal Violet)

Dear Mommas of the blogosphere,

M here. In the past I’ve gone sappy and written posts about just how much I love our little peanut. Those sentiments have grown and every day I love her more and more. The other thing that has grown is my hatred for a certain purple singing puppy. Who couldn’t love a puppy you might ask? Hmmm..

ME.

Let this post be a warning to parents everywhere about the toys their children might love. Once your little ones love them, there is no going back. I was told in no uncertain terms that if Carina’s pal Violet did not make it to CT from WI during our move, I would be in a world of hurt. Why do I hate Violet? You can program her to sing your kid’s name and her favorite things. Except, instead of singing them, it has to load each subject and pauses, a la Will Ferrell in Elf making up a telegram for James Caan. Oh and its voice could peel paint off a wall.

So with this in mind, here is my list of 7 ways to flambé, roast, incinerate, and conflagrate your children’s annoying toys.

1) The Old School: Burning barrel, gasoline, match. Stand by the flames at night and you can warm yourself like a hobo in winter.

2) The Nerdy Chemist: If you aren’t me you probably can’t do this. Put said vexing fluffy puppy in a two inch deep 9 X 9 baking pan. Surround with about 50 grams of pure sodium metal shavings. Place your fancy casserole outside and fill the pan with water with the hose from 20 feet away. It should be pretty spectacular.

3) The Family Gathering: Parents are seated on the couch. You, the hubby and your LO are seated around her blocks and non-vexing toys playing and having a lovely time. Violet or a toy of your choice is sitting in her/his proper place. On top of the burning logs in the fireplace.

4) The Rocketeer: This one is self explanatory. You need about fifty bottle rockets, a guide-wire to ensure a vertical takeoff, some packing tape to secure the bottle rockets to your least favorite toy, and a big match.

5) The Gremlin: If any of you have seen Gremlins, this one is basically plagiarism. Put toy in microwave, set power to high, set timer to however long it freaking takes, and enjoy the show.

6) The Nerdy Chemist II: You need a burning barrel, hydrazine, and perchloric acid. Mix the hydrazine, perchloric acid, and your kiddo’s toy in the barrel (surrounded with ice – very important, this is rocket fuel, no joke, that you are making, and it will ignite if it warms up). Get 100 yards away and shoot the barrel with a hunting rifle. It will make it to orbit and take your annoying problem with it.

7) Going out with a bang: Stretch a huge balloon around the exterior of your kid’s toy (this would be my pick since I can do it next week if I want). Fill the balloon with approximately 1:1 hydrogen gas and oxygen gas. If the balloon were pure hydrogen it would burn in a lovely fireball. This nice mixture will, instead of the pure stuff, go off with bang and a shockwave that might break a window if you get within 20 feet of your house.


It's the Holiday season and I'm guessing your children might receive a couple of these obnoxious toys, so...you're welcome.

Daddy's Hopes for His Daughter

Hello ladies of the bloggy-universe. M here (I’m back!). Every so often Mama G asks if I’d like to write a post, and after my last (and first) one, we thought it’d be a good idea to give it another go. I have to admit I’m a little self-conscious about these things since I’m a bit of a sap (I cry at movies, like a baby, and not just at Old Yeller), but Mama G assures me that’s just fine. Now on to today’s post.

I think at some point in life all dads get a rap as being a little bit protective, or a little demanding, but all of that stems from a simple impulse – we want the best for our kids and would love nothing more than to be able to do for them just a little better than was done for us (as an aside, my parents and in-laws have collectively set the bar pretty high –Mama G and I have got our work cut out for us). We want to be old farts sitting on the couch and be able to say that we did right by our kids.

I don’t think that every post I occasionally write here will be a list, but here goes for today – a list of my dreams for you, Carina...


1) I want you to grow up full of passion. Here’s one of my favorite quotes, perhaps the only good couple lines in an otherwise dreadful essay by Edgar Allan Poe: “passion[s] should be held in reverence; they must not - they cannot at will be excited, with an eye to the paltry compensations, or the more paltry commendations, of mankind.” Passions are an affliction, they take control and you just have to go with it – find things in life that light a fire under you and hold them dearly. Music, science, sports, and love for a certain blondie from the Boston area have taken me places I couldn’t have dreamed of when I was younger.

2) My dad (your pap-pap) once told me as a little guy, “Don’t blow out others lights so yours can shine.” Your Mommy often talks about wishing there was more empathy in the world. Grow to learn to love those around you, see the best in them, even if it’s buried, even if they cause a problem for you. It’s hard, and admittedly your Daddy fails sometimes. The important part is, your light will shine brightest of all if you learn to help and love those around you.

3) I want you to find someone to spend your life with who, like your Mommy does for me, can, with a single phrase, smile, or butt-slap, make you want to stand up on a pedestal and shout, “I am Carina Shannyn G., and I am invincible.”

4) It might not end up being your thing, but I hope you love music – making it, hearing it, talking about it, everything.

5) I want you to be confident and believe in yourself, and love whoever you turn out to be. When I was a little guy in grade school, I got teased and bullied, and your Grammie and Pap-pap, Aunt Ellie, and Uncle Chris were always there to remind me that as I long as I was happy with who I was, none of it mattered. I hope none of that ever happens to you, but if it does, I want you to be made of strong stuff, even stronger than what your Daddy was forged out of by his awesome family.

6) I want you to learn the words to V for Villanova and the Eagles’ Fight song, and sing them with me when we root for our teams. I’ll take care of the booing, although I fear you might pick that one up from your old man whether he likes it or not.

7) I want you to be a hard worker – even if you end up being smart, it’s just like talent at a sport – to be the best you also have to work really really hard.

8) I want you to take me to a father-daughter dance.

9) I want you to keep your belly-laugh. It probably won’t be lady-like, but it’s so damn cute.

10) Here’s the last one for this post, but far from the last dream or wish I have for you. I want the world that you grow up in to be a place that recognizes you for the wonder that you are. I want you to have adventures, love, laughter and tears (both are necessary), and when you look back on the sum total of the events of your life someday, I want to you smile and be able to say that there was nothing more you could have wanted, nothing else you could have done, and that you can recognize that even at eight months old, you had already made the world a better place.

Love,
Daddy

Attack of the Daddy Monster!

Dear Bumpettes, Bloggy Mamas, and all of you other great Moms (with a capital M) who I collectively refer to as “the Ladies.”  M here, and Mama G has been asking me to write a post for her awesome rockin’ blog for some time now (I so suck for not doing this yet).  After we talked a bit today, she I thought it might be nice to write about what it’s like to be the Daddy of a little girl. I think this is a neat idea, because I can’t tell you how many folks out there assume that just because I am a dude, I wanted a little son to be my mini-me.  I grew up in a home with a younger brother and younger sister.  My little sister loved to be one of the guys, but whether I liked it or not, I was going to end up memorizing the lyrics to all of  ‘Nsync’s and the Backstreet Boys’ hits (I can rock out like a teen heartthrob wannabe in the shower). 

So what does this have to do with raising a little girl and the fact that so many folks assume that us guys want more little guys?  The truth is, and I owe my sis a lot for this, going into Mama G’s pregnancy I didn’t really, and do not (for any of our future little ones) have a preference – I’ll love them tons as we get them, even if they’ve got three legs and a hunchback. 

That being said, I LOVE LOVE LOVE the fact that we have a cute little girl.  So here goes – a list of ten things that make me love you, Peanut.

1) All during Mama G’s pregnancy, we talked about how we’d know we were parents and what we looked forward to the most.  I wanted a little one to curl up on my chest, snuggle up, and fall asleep.  After you had bonding time with Mama G right after your birth, you curled up on my chest, grabbed a handful of chest hair, and fell asleep.  I cried with joy and tear up thinking about it.

2) The way you can look right to my core with those big brown eyes I gave you.

3) Your hysterical laughter whenever I a) get up close and goofy with you in your jumparoo b) blow a raspberry on your tummy c) gobble a ‘tasty baby’ as the hungry Daddymonster.

4) The way you exercise that little voice all the time, especially when you and your Mama G are cuddled up together on the couch.  I love listening to a mother-daughter talk – listen up and take in as much as you can from your Mama – she’s the most beautiful person, inside and out, that you will ever know.

5) How when I dressed up in my Phillies shirt and put you in a matching onesie, our Phils beat Mommy’s Red Sox 5-0.  I didn’t do it for the next game and the Phils lost – you are good juju.  Please forgive the sports outfits and embarrassing pictures that I will show your boyfriends when you are a teenager.

6) The huge smile I get when I come home from work – it almost makes me cry every day (your Daddy is a sap).

7) How you just seem to love EVERYONE.  So many little ones cry or fuss with new people, but you only do that if they DON’T pick you up.  Don’t ever lose that love of people around you, you’ll make the world a better place.

8) How you explore people’s faces with those chubby little hands, and no one seems to know care how gross they are.

9) Your happy dance when you see me or Mama G early right when you wake up in the morning – everyone should happy dance when they see someone they love.

10) I love how much I am going to get to see and learn and love now that you are in our lives – you and your Mommy make the future bright without me knowing anything other than that the two of you will be in it.

Aside from a protective Dad - You have no idea, but I am going to spoil you rotten and any guys you ever date had better do so too.  IF you ‘decide’ to date, your guys better keep in mind that your Daddy is a mad scientist with access to enough chemicals to get himself on a government watch list and your godfather, Uncle C, is training to be in the U.S. Army special forces. 

 

Well Ladies, that’s all from me.  I’m a goofy sap who has two beautiful women that keep him going every day and I’ll never stop being amazed at how lucky I am for it.  I hope all of you have a wonderful week and keep up the great work as Moms – I know from what I have seen that it’s a Hero’s calling.