The life and times of an irrational father. One man, multiple personalities.
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Wordless Wednesday v. Trust Fall

November 24th, 2010 | Posted by Joe in photos | Tyler | wordless wednesday - (3 Comments)

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Singing and Dancing v. Ring of Fire

November 16th, 2010 | Posted by Joe in adorable | Tyler | video - (4 Comments)

Yes… it IS as awesome as it sounds!!!


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Wordless Wednesday v. Halloween Teeth

November 10th, 2010 | Posted by Joe in photos | Tyler | wordless wednesday - (2 Comments)

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Spring Training

November 7th, 2010 | Posted by Joe in learning | pee | Tyler - (5 Comments)

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The absolutely best part of almost every single day is walking into the house after a long day at work. I am greeted with a wagging tail, a smiling and loving wife, and a squealing child who hugs my leg or jumps into my arms. Even after the most trying and tiring day at work, when I arrive home to the scene just described, all I can think to myself is “it’s all worth it.” The anticipation of walking into a flood of love is much like a child laying wide awake in his bed on Christmas morning. That excitement can only be topped by sitting under the Christmas tree and tearing into bows and ribbons and wrapping paper.

Christmas didn’t come a few days ago. All the evidence of an occupied house were present. Tyler doesn’t leave the house without his boots. Delilah’s leash was hanging on the wall. Sarah’s keys were still on the hook. Still, the house was silent.

Assuming that everyone was sleeping, and still wondering why Delilah didn’t wake up and bring her wagging tail into the room, I quietly took my shoes off and walked through the house. I thought I could hear a very faint voice on the second floor, and made my way up the stairs. I looked into Tyler’s room to see Sarah zipping his pants.

“Tyler had an accident.”

I was both sorrowful for Tyler and Sarah, and surprised. Tyler only has accidents during the night, and even those are few and far between. I asked if he was playing and forgot he had to use the potty.

“No, he made it to the bathroom. I think he just forgot to tuck.”

Tyler jumped into my arms and squeezed my neck. I drew in a deep breath and exhaled all the negativity of the day. It’s all worth it, I thought.

“Tyler, did you forget to tuck your penis into the potty?”

He told me that he did, and that he “make a mess”. I found out later HOW he forgot to tuck his penis into the potty, but now was the time to play and talk with my family. Sarah had already cleaned up the pee that was all over the bathroom floor, so we went into the living room for family time.

Later in the evening, I asked Tyler if he wanted to help me cut some pumpkins open to pull the guts and seeds out. Sarah was in the kitchen with her iPod while we covered our hands with orange pumpkin guts on the dining room floor. We had seven pumpkins to go through, so our work was cut out for us. We all intended to gut and carve pumpkins two weeks earlier, but life got in the way, as it is wont to do. Instead, we left them on the porch, uncarved. After the fifth pumpkin, Tyler stood up and said, “I have go potty.”

My hands were buried in the pumpkin, digging for seeds. I told him to ask his mommy to help him while I continued seeding the squash. Sarah washed his hands and told him to go to the bathroom. In a moment, he ran past me towards his potty. I glanced back to see him pushing his pants down. A smile formed across my face as I thought about how smart Tyler is, how much he’s learning, and how he’s doing so well at doing things on his own. I returned my attention to the pumpkin for a moment.

Then I remembered his “accident” from earlier. I spun around, terrified at what I might see. As I viewed the scene before me, my eyes widened.”

“NOOOO!! No No no no no no no!”

There he was… STANDING, two and a half feet away from his potty. His little hand was grasping his little weiner and pointing it nearly straight up. A beautiful stream of piss arched through the air, splashing on the wall and on the floor. Sarah walked out of the kitchen to see what the problem was.

“Ohhhhhh Tyler. What the?”

She looked at me. I closed my eyes and shook my head. We both realized how he made the mess earlier. There are some conversations that only a mother can have with her child, and some that only a father can. This one was all mine. Soon after the incident, I had to explain to Tyler the difference between standing up and sitting down, and that he needs to wait until he’s bigger to stand up for peeing.

Next Spring, we start practicing on trees!

And in that moment, I was ashamed

November 5th, 2010 | Posted by Joe in Bad parenting | frustration | irrational dad | Tyler - (6 Comments)

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How is it that a three foot tall, 28 month old child can make a grown man feel like a horrible, selfish person?

Tyler likes wearing my shoes. Truth be told, he likes wearing any adult shoes. We are a “shoes off at the door” family, but tend to let Tyler’s propensity for stomping around the house in shoes that could contain three feet his size slide. After some time, and realizing that this “phase” doesn’t appear to be waning anytime in the near future, I explained to Tyler that only a couple select pairs of my shoes are to be worn in the house. The most common pair that he chooses are my running shoes. Not because I never run (which, I don’t), but because they are my treadmill shoes that don’t go outside ever.

When Tyler first developed his affinity towards my shoes, he would simply step into them and start stumbling around the house. More times than not, the left shoe would end up on his right foot, and the right on his left.

More recently, however, Tyler has begun to develop his autonomy. He can put his own slippers on. His own boots. His own pants. Pants are easy to explain to a little one. Put the tag (on the inside of the pants) towards the floor. It’s difficult to say to put the snap or the button in front, because not all kids’ pants have snaps or buttons on them, and are simply elastic waisted. Sarah put an “L” and an “R” on the bottom of Tyler’s slippers so he can differentiate between left and right. His boots have distinct characteristics to help determine which is which. Even though he knows which is which, he still tends to ask, mostly for confirmation.

“Dis goes on dis foot?”

Looking down at his feet, we’ll reply “Yes, Tyler. That shoe goes on your left foot.”

“And dis goes on dis foot?”

Well son, seeing as how you already have one on the correct foot, and you only have one to go, yes, that is the correct foot too.

“Yes, Tyler. That shoe goes on your right foot.”

He has now begun doing the same with my shoes as well.

Recently, Sarah was sitting in her chair. I was across the room on the couch, having a conversation with her. It seemed that, over the last couple of weeks, we haven’t been connecting. She’s had plans. I’ve had plans. I’m coming as she’s going. It’s been difficult for the both of us, but it doesn’t happen terribly often.

Tyler walked into the room with my shoes in his hands. He sat on the floor and asked “dis goes on dis foot?”

“No, Tyler. You’ve got that on the wrong foot.”

He pulled the shoe off, and placed it near his other foot. I turned my attention back to Sarah to continue our conversation.

“Dis goes on dis foot?”

Sigh. After getting Tyler squared away, he happily stomped off. Sarah and I talked for a couple more minutes while the sound of his feet clomping away in my shoes filled the room. We talked about life, things that have bothered us lately, things we need to do… things.

“Skuse me daddy?”

We’ve been working on manners with Tyler. Like most children his age, he thinks the universe revolves around him. No matter what Sarah and I are doing, he tends to think he can run up and start talking to us. Sarah explained to him that he has to say “excuse me” when he needs our attention. On the occasions that he follows those rules of etiquette, we have to make sure and address him right away.

“Yes, Tyler?”

“Daddy?”

“Yes, Tyler?” Don’t get frustrated, don’t get frustrated, don’t get frustrated. “What do you want?”

“You tie dis?”

I looked down at the shoe. It was tied. Both shoes were tied. Up until this point, I had done an Emmy-worthy job of masking my ever-so-slight frustration. But it was becoming more and more difficult. Why couldn’t he just let me talk to my wife?

“Tyler, the shoes are both tied already. I’m trying to talk to your mommy right now.”

“Shoes not tight enough,” he replied.

I closed my eyes, clenched my teeth, and squeezed my hands into fists, driving my fingernails into my palms. Without replying to Tyler, I stood up, walked to him, crouched down, and untied his (my) shoe. I pulled the laces tight and began tying them again. My frustration was unmistakable. I just wanted to talk to my wife for a few moments, and this little… brat… couldn’t give that to me.

“Thank you helping me, daddy. You da best daddy ever.”

A tidal wave of shame rushed and swept away my anger. I looked to Sarah and saw the face of a proud mother. In that moment, I hated myself.

I have an awesome, awesome child.