June 29, 2011

Every night before Ariel goes to sleep we read books. That’s usually my job while Belle feeds Jasmine and puts her to sleep. Seems like a sensible allocation of resources since Jasmine has no interest in taking a bottle, and lactating isn’t included in my skill portfolio. When Ariel’s behaving it can be wonderful – we snuggle while I read to her, and being the son of a life-long librarian, reading is in my blood. Some of the books, even for her age group, are really well written, funny at times, even touching. I love some of the classics like “Oh the Places You’ll Go,” and the pigeon books (Don’t Let the Pigeon Drive a Bus, The Pigeon Wants a Puppy) are very clever. Of course I expect it will be more fun when she’s a bit older and can appreciate something a little more substantial. For example, a long, long, long time ago my 5th grade teacher introduced our class to the fantastic short stories written by O.Henry (Gift of the Magi is the most famous) and I can’t wait to share those with her in a few years. And then when she gets to High School we can compare thoughts on Hemingway and Faulkner. Ok, that’s like the biggest lie ever, we’re totally not going to do that at all (I’d rather have an enema than read Faulkner again), but it made me sound smart, right? Oh come on, sure it did.

Anyway, of course Ariel doesn’t always behave, and when she’s being difficult the process doesn’t go as smoothly. Oh well, such is life. But another problem is that not all of Ariel’s books are exactly classics. And some aren’t particularly clever, funny or touching. I detest The Grouchy Ladybug (written by the otherwise excellent Eric Carle), an annoying story about a ladybug who keeps wanting to fight everyone, and everyone is happy and willing to fight him, but he’s a big scared-y cat so he moves on to the next animal. What’s nice is that not only is it irritatingly redundant, but it seems to make the case that fighting is a perfectly fine way to settle one’s differences, so that’s just super. Then I just read a story called “I Love You Forever,” about a Mom who rocks her son to sleep every night and sings a song to him about loving him forever, and its all well and good until she’s still sneaking into his room, lifting him up, and rocking him in her arms even once he’s a grown man in his own house across town. Um, really? Nobody finds this a little disturbing? Maybe it’s me. I do enjoy how wildly anachronistic some of the older books seem. My favorite example is Curious George, who is brought out of the jungle and back to civilized society by the Man in the Yellow Hat, and that first night, after a good meal, AND A GOOD PIPE, Curious George is ready for bed. Hooray! The cute little monkey Ariel is supposed to identify with is SMOKING! Outstanding!

Is it too early to start reading her books on baseball statistics and game theory?

June 21, 2011

Happy Birthday, Ariel! She’s now 4 years old. I was told that 3 ½ is the toughest age, so I’m ready for her behavior to improve dramatically. And…begin! Now. Don’t worry, I’ll wait.

Ariel’s birthday celebration goes on about as long as the NBA playoffs. We had people over last weekend to celebrate, we of course celebrated on her actual birthday, and then the official party is next Saturday. Which is great for her, since this schedule provides multiple ice cream eating opportunities, and that’s just about the most important thing about birthdays at this age. That doesn’t mean we didn’t get her a gift of course, but at least at this age you can get them something silly and small, spend almost no money, and they love it anyway. So we have that going for us. However, that’s just what they would be expecting us to do, so we went the other way, and got her a motorized car that probably has more horsepower than my first Honda accord (and cost more too). Holy-Waste-Of-Money, Batman! But it’s worth it, because she was so excited and happy when she got it that within a few hours of giving it to her she called me an idiot and told her Mom and I she was throwing us in jail. So that was a bit of a set-back.

We took her to a hibachi restaurant for her birthday, decided it would be a nice change of pace from her usual fare of chicken nuggets and mac and cheese. She thought for a while about having a melt-down when she realized grilled cheese wasn’t on the menu, but she got through that OK. Shockingly when the cook came out and lit the fire for the hibachi grill, it made both Ariel AND Jasmine immediately burst into tears, so that was impressive. They were both pretty scared of the fire, but once that was gone, they both liked it. Even Jasmine ate, and she doesn’t really eat. So score one for the Far East. Ariel made sure to tell the hibachi grill-master that it was her birthday, which probably would have resonated more with him if he had even a passing understanding of English. She also told the woman sitting at our table that one of her friends has a brother AND a sister, and the woman was suitably impressed of course. How could she not be?

Only 364 days until she turns 5.

June 19, 2011

Happy Father’s Day! We had the wife’s family over to celebrate both Father’s Day and Ariel’s upcoming 4th birthday, and of course the day was exhausting. But, I have to admit, it was really fun. Ariel was shockingly well behaved all day long. It’s staggering the difference that makes in the overall quality of a day. My gift from her was pretty funny, apparently at her pre-school they had the kids make things for dads for Father’s Day, and they made a card with a quote from each kid. Ariel’s was “I love Daddy because he buys me stuff.” Really? OK, sure, I expect her to feel that way when she’s 14, but, at 4? Don’t I have a few years of being the best just because I’m Daddy? No? Oh, OK, thanks. I didn’t realize that. The gift included a pen/pencil holder for my desk, and she had put all sports team stuff on it since she knows I love sports. She was SO excited to show me she had something from my favorite team, the Boston Red Sox. Sadly, that turned out to be the logo of the NY Red Bulls soccer team, not the Sox. And somehow 2 different NY Yankee logos got put on there. Which means two things. First, at least one of her teachers is going to find themselves unable to get tenure when I’m done with her (its possible I’m kidding, but not guaranteed), and second, we’re going to be making some slight modifications to Daddy’s pen/pencil holder that hopefully she won't notice.

June 16, 2011

Ariel’s babysitter noticed that her princess bag had a broken handle. That would be Ariel's bag, by the way, not her babysitter's. In case you were wondering. Anyway, she mentioned to Ariel that she should point it out to me so I can fix it. “Daddy doesn’t fix things. I’ll tell Papa Mimi (Grandpa).” I’d be offended if it wasn’t so undeniably true. Really, she could have suggested anybody we know other than MAYBE her 8 month old sister and she had a better shot getting the thing fixed than with me. Later, she completely colored in her belly button and insisted to Mommy that it was “an accident.” I can’t decide if she’s lying or is confused as to the meaning of the word “accident.” Kind of a coin flip really.

June 14, 2011

I’ve been trying hard the last few months to get Ariel to listen to what she calls “Daddy’s” music when we’re in the car together. “My” music pretty much consists of anything not directed at the under-5 set. Billy Joel, Katy Perry, Eminem, whatever, really it’s all the same to her. And to me, anything that doesn’t involve a princess or Daisy Duck singing is A-O-K with me. Much to my delight, recently she’s even started to enjoy some of it. She LOVES Lady Gaga’s Bad Romance (and obviously Gaga is a PERFECT role model for her), and keeps asking me to play the beginning of her song called “Black Jesus” because the line “Broadway Baby” is in that song…and also in the song played during her dance recital. Not only has this trend made car rides more pleasant for me, but it helps avoid the inevitable torture that used to occur when I would get one of her songs stuck in my head. Believe me, when you can’t, no matter what you do, stop hearing The Farmer in the Dell in your head, its not good times. Its bad times. Very bad times. I will say, though, that it makes me smile every time I scroll through my iPod and get to a block of her songs, and right after “I Had a Little Nut Tree” I come to “I Love Little Pussy.” Wow. Can’t let my iPod get into the wrong hands without supervision, huh?

June 11, 2011

Jasmine is teething. The nice thing about having a teething baby (besides the obvious screaming, crying, and general crankiness it brings) is that when she leans in to give me one of her patented, slobbery, lick-my-face kisses (which I love, actually), there’s at least a 40-50% chance that she’s going to chomp on my cheek like its an apple. I told her this morning that she was once again confusing “Daddy” with “breakfast,” and Ariel thought that was just about the funniest thing she ever heard. Which of course it was.

June 7, 2011

I’ve noticed that the standard for what constitutes “a really stupid thing to have a fight about” changes as you get older. When I was 12, it who got to play shortstop in a pick-up baseball game (me, obviously). At 19, it was whether I was taking my girlfriend to too many movies and not doing more “fun” things (as if anything is more fun than going to a movie, right?). At 33 it was what time I had to get home from watching football with my friends on Sundays (usually we could settle on halftime of the late games). Apparently at 41 we’ve reached a whole new level. Last night Ariel and I had a blow-up over who got to open and close the refrigerator. Really? Is that what 41 years of maturation and evolution have been for? Or MAYBE it was so that at 41 I could WIN the fight, which of course I did. Ah, progress. There’s no stopping it.

June 6, 2011

One of the many delights of parenthood they don’t tell you about ahead of time is back pain. You carry around little kids enough, and you hunch over while playing with little kids enough, and you lift car seats with babies in them enough, and you’re likely to end up with some back discomfort. Especially if you’re 41 (yes, I’m 41. Didn’t take Sherlock Holmes or Batman to deduce that one, did it?). Back pain is just something that comes with the territory. Or does it? I suffered from major, debilitating back pain for many, many years, until I read a book called “Mind Over Back Pain” by Dr. John Sarno. He believes the vast majority of back pain is caused not by physical abnormalities or injuries, but tension, which manifests itself by impeding blood circulation, which causes pain. The cure is not to eliminate tension, which is impossible, but simply to understand the cause, which results in the tension taking a different avenue of expression which eliminates the pain. I had been to a bunch of doctors, tried every treatment I could, and nothing helped. Then I read his 112 page book and a few weeks later I was pain free for the first time in 15 years. I now re-read it every few years to remind myself of what I now know to be true about my pain and where it comes from. I swear to God, if Dr. Sarno ever calls me and says he needs $10,000.00, he’ll have it in cash, no questions asked, by the next day. Just don’t tell the missus….

June 3, 2011

Any parent of a toddler will tell you that TV aimed at the under 5-set isn’t particularly interesting. Sure, we all have fine memories of Sesame Street, and I used to love such classics as The Electric Company, the Magic Garden and ZOOM. But obviously if asked to list my favorite shows, the Mickey Mouse Clubhouse isn’t right there in the mix with The West Wing, The Wire and The Sopranos. There are a couple shows that are actually pretty clever (Chuggington is occasionally cute, and the Backyardigans is very well done, but of course Ariel for whatever reason isn’t a big fan), but for the most part it’s slim pickings. This morning’s choice was Team Umizoomi, which is about a team of 3 very small cartoon super-heroes: a boy named Geo, a girl named Millie, and a robot named…Bot. Something tells me the writing room wasn’t up all night brainstorming brilliantly clever names for the robot. Anyway, they use their “mighty-mighty-math powers” to fight crime. Well, actually they don’t fight crime, they perform amazingly unnecessary acts like bring little kids (actual kids, not cartoons, for reasons that aren’t entirely clear to me) milk for their snack or find a missing stuffed animal. Geo is a pretty powerful individual, despite his diminutive size (and we’re not talking Gary Coleman or Verne Troyer here, we’re talking like the size of a pencil). He can literally create ANYTHING out of thin air, by using his super shapes. Now, I think we can all agree that’s a useful skill to have. In fact, one could argue that Geo should be using that power to do things just slightly more helpful to society (I don’t know, maybe making food or fossil fuels or something?) than checking out the last known whereabouts of Teddy the Bear. But hey, it’s a free country, if that’s what he wants to do, that’s his business. Now, his sister Millie is supposed to be his equal, which of course is commendable. No reason why Geo’s sister should be any less powerful than him, right? Well, Millie’s power is that she can change her dress to be any pattern she wants. AND, she can make other things magically turn into the same pattern as her dress! Isn’t that fantastic??? Her brother can create a car, house, hell, even a rocket launcher from a few shapes on his belt, and Millie’s contribution to the team is that she can go from gingham to plaid without walking to her closet. Now, I’m not the most PC guy in the world, but seriously, this show needs to re-evaluate itself a bit. I’m just saying.

June 2, 2011

A DAY IN THE LIFE

7:00 A.M. – Ariel is up! She comes downstairs, hops into our bed, and demands Mickey. Mouse, that is, clearly. Boring, but when compared to the dreck that is Thomas the Tank Engine or the unbelievable insipid-ness of Dora the Explorer, it’s practically Modern Family. So on it goes. After an episode she wants breakfast, but only while wearing her Princess Tiana dress. I stumble out of bed and get her to brush her teeth and get dressed, and I was only told that I’m not being nice like 5 times, so not too bad all things considered.

8:00 A.M. – Ariel eats breakfast while I stand there fantasizing. Sure, there was a time where my fantasies would involve Jessica Alba and a secluded beach. Now it’s imagining a world in which Dunkin Donuts delivered coffee to your door. Attempts to engage Ariel in conversation…are not successful. So its one of THOSE mornings, huh? Okey dokey.

8:15 A.M. – Ariel is done with breakfast, the wife is dealing with Jasmine who’s now awake, and Ariel wants to play. I’m supposed to hold her lovey while she pretends to be Evil Dr. Pork Chop from the Toy Story movies and grab it away from me. Then we switch characters. The thing to know about imaginative play is that it’s REALLY good for your kids. It really stimulates their brain and is essential for full development. The other thing is that it freakin’ sucks for parents. 8:45 A.M., when we have to leave for school, can’t get here fast enough.

8:45 A.M. – We’re off to school! After I get her situated, I stop at Dunkin for coffee for me, Starbucks for a latte for the wife, and head back home. One thing about working from home, not much of a commute.

9:15 A.M. – 12:00 P.M. – Work. Enjoying how the stress of work pales in comparison to the stress of enduring imaginative play.

12:00 P.M. – 12:30 P.M. – Lunch!! Woo-hoo! Me time!! I eat while reading baseball articles on the web and checking out Facebook. Sure, it’s an early lunch, but if I’m going to eat with the family at 5:30 (a nice hour before I’m particularly interested in dinner), I need to eat this early or I’ll have no appetite.

12:30 P.M. - 5:30 P.M. – Work. Feels like ME time, though clearly, not so much.

5:30 P.M. – Meet friends for a few beers, grab dinner at this amazing Mexican place in town, and catch a late movie.

5:35 P.M. – finish up 5-minute fantasy about what I wish I were going to be doing for the rest of the evening. Prepare myself for what I actually will be doing.

5:35 P.M. – 7:45 P.M. – Hardest part of the day, so lets game our game face on. Dinner typically involves the following super occurrences. Asking Ariel how her day was. Hearing she doesn’t want to talk about it. Being asked by Ariel if she can have dessert yet. And again. And again. Ariel getting up from the table 5 times for a variety of non-reasons, and snapping at us when we ask her to sit back down. Then baths for Ariel and Jasmine, then the delight that is getting Ariel in pj’s and ready for bed. Wife feeds Jasmine and gets her down while I read to Ariel. Snuggling with Ariel makes up for all of the difficulties. Well, no, that’s preposterous, but it’s nice. J

7:45 P.M. -8:15 P.M. - I do the dishes and clean the kitchen while Wife snuggles with Ariel to finish her off. Kind of like bringing in Papelbon to close out a game. It’s not a 1-2-3 inning like she were Mariano Rivera or something, but she gets the job done.

8:15 P.M. – 9:00 P.M. – Work. No longer enchanted by it at this hour. Drained by the bedtime routine. Just want a vodka tonic and to sit and watch TV.

9:00 P.M. – 10:30 P.M. - Vodka tonic and sit and watch TV with Wife.

10:30 P.M. – bed.

11:30 P.M. – 7:00 A.M. – sleep, interrupted an average of 3 times by the girls. Lather, rinse, repeat.

May 31, 2011

Memorial Day Weekend is now in the rear-view mirror. No other holiday emphasizes the difference between my life pre and post kids as well as M-D-W. I LOVED M-D-W in the “old days.” Like back in the early 2000’s before my girls arrived. Back then M-D-W meant summer was on the way, and I almost always went away that weekend. I lived in LA then, so Vegas was most often the destination, but sometimes Hawaii or some golf resort somewhere. With buddies before I got married, and obviously with the wife thereafter. Now, it’s just another 3-day weekend, and what once were extended periods of relaxing without the stress of work have now become 3 days of uninterrupted family time…which often feels like one long extended test of how long I can go without losing my patience with Ariel. I desperately want to live in a society where it’s permissible to tell your 3 year old to FOR THE LOVE OF GOD SHUT UP! Anyone know any societies like that? And if so, is housing affordable there? And this was actually a pretty GOOD 3-day weekend. We had family and friends over to use the pool (recently bought a house with a pool, which is fun, but is probably going to drive us into Chapter 11 some day), and the weather cooperated. Now, of course, Ariel didn’t do a whole lot of cooperating, because that’s not how she (sometimes) rolls. She seems to be at all times merely seconds away from a total meltdown of yelling and insanity-inducing back-talk that seems to appear from NOWHERE. Which helps make the house feel as relaxing as a day-spa, obviously. And I’ll admit, much of what she says is funny the next day (like when I told her she can’t hit the dog with her toy mop and she responded by screaming at me that I then can’t EVER, EVER, EVER play with her dollies. Really? Um, ok, I can live with that, thanks). But when she’s going off…and it’s like the 10th time that day…and you’re tired from, you know, life? Wow. So not funny. Like George Lopez not funny. (Hey! It’s an unprovoked and pretty much out-of-leftfield attack on George Lopez!) And special events (like friends coming over) invariably lead to later bedtimes, which lead to tired children who make putting them to bed more difficult. And as all parents know, putting little kids to bed isn’t a process that’s crying out to be made more difficult. It’s not like Ariel falls asleep at night and I find myself feeling cheated since it wasn’t enough of a challenge. So let’s just say that as of Tuesday morning, I’m not exactly feeling refreshed and ready to attack the work week. .

May 27, 2011

Ariel was en fuego today. Carrying on, refusing to get dressed, wouldn’t go on the potty, just generally being HER, and I did everything I could not to lose it. She threw her “lovey” (small blanket) at the dog and I took it away from her, telling her that when she does what she’s not supposed to, she has to live with the consequences. Her reply was “Who are the consequences? I don’t WANT to live with the consequences! I want to live with my family!” So yeah, that was pretty funny.

May 15, 2011

We had parent/teacher conferences at Ariel’s pre-school a while back. Which of course seems utterly insane since she’s 3 years old. But welcome to 2011. Anyway, the wife and I were ready to hear that Ariel is, shall we say, a “handful,” and that the faculty is all chipping in to send her away to China or something, and instead they hit us with this nugget. “We have absolutely NOTHING negative to say about Ariel. She’s cooperative and kind and plays well with others and we wish we had 10 of her in the class.” Ok, I’m sorry, I’m going to need to call a 20-second time out here. WHAT??? I mean, it’s fabulous that she behaves beautifully at school, and obviously that means she can modify her behavior when she wants to, so that’s good (especially if she decides to be a politician or career criminal or something productive like that). But still, are you kidding me? First of all, the idea of 10 Ariels could, to me, EASILY be the basis of the next Wes Craven film. Second, why exactly is she a goody-goody at school and Bart Simpson at home? WTF?

Intro

Someone once asked me “Why do you LOVE being a parent? I know there are a million reasons, but give me the ONE THING that sums it all up.” For me, that was easy. “I don’t,” I replied. This blog is about how you can love your children and still very much NOT love parenting. People know it's difficult (“difficult” being close to the understatement of the century) but non-parents don’t always know why. And parents forget. Which is probably a good thing, since forgetting causes them to have more kids. Which continues the species and all. The main characters in our tragedy/comedy (other than me) are the 3 women in my life. The female lead will be played by my older daughter (let’s call her “Ariel”, as this blog will be semi-anonymous, and that’s her favorite Disney princess). She is almost 4 years old and incredibly…challenging. Difficult? Sure. Frustrating? Definitely. She’s also really smart, child-model beautiful, and precocious and funny and when she’s not making you want to sell her on eBay she can light up your life with a smile. And the things she says just cry out to be heard. Plus, I’m sure they’re way funnier when you don’t have to tell her to pipe down and go to bed, so I think she’ll be a crowd-pleaser. My younger daughter (“Pocahontas”…no, just kidding, let’s go with “Jasmine”) is a breeze so far. She’s 8 months old and doesn’t say nearly as many funny things as Ariel, though really it’s an unfair comparison what with her inability to speak and all. She just rolls with whatever comes, so she seems to be just ever-so-slightly-different in terms of overall disposition than her big sis. And of course the 3rd lady is my wife (“Belle,” just to continue the theme), who shares many of my frustrations but somehow still loves being a Mom, which is probably part of why she’s such a terrific one, as you’ll discover. Hope you enjoy…