The life and times of an irrational father. One man, multiple personalities.
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Tyler’s love of the B.S.

May 12th, 2009 | Posted by Joe in adventures in babydom | blogging | laughing | sick Tyler | teething | Tyler - (2 Comments)


I’m not entirely sure why I haven’t blogged lately. I can’t exactly say it’s been a lack of inspiration because Tyler is doing new, funny things just about every day. Is there such a thing as blogger’s block? Like writer’s block, but I am far from a writer. With the nicer weather, we (the family) have all been outside a lot more, which lessens the time I spend on the computer. Officially, and publicly, I’m saying it’s a lack of time. Privately, I just feel like I don’t have the "words" for what I want to say.

Tyler’s got a bunch of green goo coming out of his nose. He isn’t acting sick, at all, so we’re operating under the assumption that he’s teething. Since babies are essentially in a perpetual state of teething for the first few years of their lives, I could be both right and wrong in our diagnosis. Unfortunately, Tyler HATES getting his face washed. More than that, hate is a severe understatement of how he feels about getting his nose wiped off. He screams until there isn’t an iota of oxygen left in his tiny lungs. I sometimes wonder if he’ll forget to breathe. It’s around that time that he sucks air in, and repeats his lung-draining yells for Child Protective Services to come and save him from the evil, nose-cleansing washrag of doom.


At the opposite end of the spectrum, Tyler LOVES the blue bulb that I call the "booger sucker". It resembles a turkey baster in both appearance and function. The two primary differences are that the booger sucker is much shorter than a turkey baster, and the booger sucker sucks boogers out of a baby’s nose, whereas a turkey baster has no affiliation with boogers… unless you’re using it incorrectly. As a side note, our turkey baster has served other purposes than just squirting turkey juices on a cooking turkey. It is currently stained a shade of red, because Sarah used it to make Jell-O shots at one point for a work-outing that I attended a few years ago.

The origins of Tyler’s love of the booger sucker are unknown. When I’ve previously used it, I would make weird noises and laugh in the hopes that Tyler would tolerate its infiltration into his nostrils. It worked, to an extent. Recently, while, uhh…. expelling Tyler’s nose treasure onto a paper towel, it make a very sickening slurping noise. Hearing it makes Sarah’s stomach turn. I’m not a fan of the noise, but I can handle it. Tyler started laughing his little butt off at the sound. Since then, I’ve made quite the ordeal of blowing the snot onto a papertowel. The level of joy in his laughter is directly proportional to the amount of drama I put into the action. The best responses come when I act as if it takes every ounce of strength in my body to dislodge the yellow-green blockage from the neck of the booger sucker. If this results in the nasty slurping sound, Tyler is even more joyed and doubles his laughter. It’s now at the point where he starts laughing as soon as he sees the mucous evacuation device in my hands.

My current goal is to try to get the same reaction from Tyler while washing his face. And why not? I like taking on the impossible tasks. So far, not so good. Try as I might, the evil, nose-cleansing washrag of doom is just as evil as it ever was. Sound effects be damned, Tyler hates the rag monster.

Note: After typing this post out and before pressing the “Publish” button, Sarah informs me that she’s got a sore throat and a runny nose. So, it looks as if Tyler’s less-than-awesome attitude and his green goo situation may have indeed been due to being sick. Sorry, little one; we honestly thought you were teething.

Second note: See the medicine in the background of the booger sucker picture? Yeah, Tyler’s right ear was in really bad shape when he went to the doctor. His left ear looked great, but the doctor "winced” when she looked at his right ear. The words “red” and “bulging” were used. He’s got three weeks to get better. After that, she’s referring us to an ENT (Ear, Nose and Throat) Specialist.

The Journey Towards Boyhood

April 3rd, 2009 | Posted by Joe in adventures in babydom | Bad parenting | joe | like father like son | Sarah | scared | screaming | Tyler - (7 Comments)

Yesterday, Tyler took some additional steps on the pathway towards boyhood.

Sarah and I decided to put a garden in this year. We have a decent sized yard, so we measured out a six foot by twenty-four foot area for the garden. The neighbor told us that the ground in their yard was very rocky, so they built a raised garden. I’m a fan of learning from the mistakes of others, so we decided on a raised garden as well. I purchased the lumber and cut it to size two weeks ago.

The frame of the garden.
 
The frame would be built with two inch thick by eight inch high wood. After making the box, I would cut a bunch of 2x4s two foot in length, and make points on one end of them, effectively making wooden stakes. It was while making the stakes that the first accident happened. Those that follow me on Twitter and Facebook already know what transpired. In the monotony of cutting, turning the saw off, removing the scrap wood, and turning the saw on again, at one point I forgot the crucial step of killing the power before reaching into the saw for the scrap wood. The pain I felt as the blade tore into the flesh of my thumb was immense.

I’ve often wondered how one could make a stupid mistake with a power tool that would result in a missing digit. Well, it seemed that fate aimed to satisfy my curiosity on that day. Now, I couldn’t tell you if it was divine intervention, pure luck, or super-human reflexes that saved me from going on a scavenger hunt for my thumb, but I was saved the trauma of a self amputation. I yanked my hand back with a speed I was unaware of being capable of. The resultant injury was a gash the width of a circular saw blade, and about as thick. And a lot of blood, but I finished the frame. 

 
The next step was to lie cardboard and newspaper down,to act as a weed barrier and organic material for the soil. We did this yesterday before the seven tons of soil delivered. While we did this, Tyler took the opportunity to try to eat rocks and gravel.

My garden helpers.

Tyler helped.

Here’s what 14 THOUSAND pounds of dirt looks like.

Barely made a freaking dent in the mountain of dirt.

The garden itself only needed five tons of dirt to fill it. The additional two tons would be used to level the ground in the yard. We had some bushes removed last year which left divots and dips in the ground. And the truck that delivered the dirt was quite heavy as well, leaving two-inch deep tire marks in the lawn that needed to be filled.

As I shoveled away at the mountain of dirt, Sarah, Tyler and Delilah had a picnic outside to keep me company. Delilah found a stick and obviously had some pent-up energy to get out. She began running laps around the garage. I have honestly never seen a dog that could run as fast as she can; it’s unnatural and freakish to watch. She came tearing around the corner, full tilt and must not have seen where she was going. Delilah plowed into Tyler and sent him rolling across the yard. It was very surreal for a moment, and I found myself asking if that really just happened. Delilah knew she was in trouble. She lay down and rolled onto her back when I roared her name. The fury I felt almost overtook the fear I felt for Tyler. Almost. Her submissive action probably saved her life just then; it’s one of her endearing qualities, and cemented my initial belief that it was a complete accident. Although I’m sure shock played a part of it, I’ve no doubt that Tyler’s screams were those of pain, and I ran to him and Sarah.

Sarah held Tyler tight against her body as he screamed, telling him everything was ok, and it was an accident. Tyler was facing the opposite direction. I ran around Sarah so that he could see my face while I comforted him. His eyes were tightly shut with tears running down his face, and…

"He’s bleeding," I said urgently.

"Oh Jesus," Sarah said, pulling Tyler away from her so we could get a better look at him. He had a stream of blood coming from his nose. Panicked, we ran into the house. Delilah never budged.

Tyler screamed even louder when we tried washing the blood off his face. Whether it was from pain or the fact that he doesn’t like getting his face washed, I’m not sure. Either way, it hurt me in the heart to see Tyler in pain. I held Tyler while Sarah attempted to put a cold pack on his nose, which he definitely did not enjoy. He finally calmed enough for us to give him a quick "once over". He had a bump on his head, and his nose wasn’t broken. As a matter of fact, it had stopped bleeding. Sarah took him into the other room to give him the only pain reliever that is guaranteed to work… cuddles on the couch.

I went back outside to tell Delilah that I knew it was an accident, but that she has to keep her eyes on Tyler’s level now and not up in the air at Sarah and I. Then I went back to shoveling before the forecasted rain could make it to our home. Shortly thereafter, Tyler went up for a nap. Sarah came out and helped me with some shoveling and wheelbarrowing. Sarah had the forethought to open the second level windows so we could hear Tyler when he woke up.

Five hours of shoveling and elbow grease later.
 
When he did, Sarah brought him outside again to show him the garden. He grabbed a handful of dirt and tried to eat it. Sarah grabbed his hand and said something like "ucky, Tyler." Tyler grabbed another handful, and Sarah intercepted its path to his mouth as well. And this is when I saw the devious side of Tyler. He grabbed another handful of dirt, but this time used the other hand – the one that Sarah couldn’t see – and put it in his mouth. He reached for more dirt when I said "Other hand, Sarah."

Eating rocks and dirt, check. Bloody nose, check. All this before he’s walking, no less. What’s next on the boyhood checklist, eating worms, sticking a metal object in a wall outlet, or trying to cram a sandwich into the DVD player? Care to guess which two of those three things I’ve done? I’ll give you a hint, we didn’t have a DVD player when I was a child.

Note: The next project will be putting up a 6 foot tall privacy fence so that we don’t have to look at the poorly maintained yard next door.

All the News That’s Fit to Print

March 30th, 2009 | Posted by Joe in adorable | adventures in babydom | Beauty Pageant | Tyler - (11 Comments)


The future of newsprint is questionable, at best. In ever-increasing numbers, people are turning to the internet for up-to-the-second news, to socialize with friends (and strangers), to write in their public diaries, or to just waste countless hours that could better be spent outside. By the way, I am guilty of all charges. After your grossly obese uncle, otherwise known as the internet, takes his piece of the populous pie, there just isn’t much left for the newspaper to fill his stomach on.

What happens when a newspaper can’t afford to pay all their reporters due to lower subscription rates? What happens when the readers stop writing their letters to the editor because they are now posting their opinions on their personal blogs?

My local newspaper is called The Evening Star, and is currently having an identity crisis; beginning April 6th, it will be known simply as The Star. The Star is restructuring things a bit to balance service to its readers and still maintain profitability in these tough times. One such change will be a switch to morning delivery seven days a week. It won’t exactly make sense to be called The Evening Star, hence the truncated moniker.

How does this affect me? It doesn’t. My work schedule requires that I read the paper in the afternoons, but the weekends are mine for the taking. And while I enjoy staying up to the moment with news online, there’s just something about opening your small town newspaper and reading about your local high school choir kicking butt and taking names at competitions that’s, well, comfortable.

On Sunday, Sarah, Tyler, and myself were sitting at the dining room table enjoying breakfast. As I flipped through the paper, I had to deliberately resist the urge to paraphrase some of the articles for Sarah. She hates it when I do that because she then has no desire to read the paper herself. When I finished with the first section, I moved on to the Life section of the paper.

I picked it up and gave it a bit of a shake. I don’t know why I did that though, because it wasn’t necessary. Maybe that’s just how I’m used to seeing people read the paper on television. I started reading an article, but cannot recall the subject because Sarah interrupted me.

"Oh my God. Turn it over turn it over turn it over!"

I jerked the paper down, thinking something was happening with Tyler. At nine months old, he’s getting better at crawling, assisted walking, and pinching food with his fingers. I assumed that Tyler was doing something new that I had to see. Instead, I see Sarah staring wide-eyed at me. Or rather, at the newspaper in front of me.

"Wha-", I started to inquire as I flipped the paper around.

Right there, in color print, was a six by nine inch photo of Tyler with Oreo cookie drool covering his mouth. The extra-ocular muscles that control the movement of the human eye can rotate it at a velocity of up to 1000 degrees per second or, in layman’s terms, very fast. And that was almost not fast enough for my patience. I had to know the results.

Almost exactly a month ago, in the Life section of the newspaper, I saw a collection of photos. That was when I learned of a monthly photo contest where people would upload a photo that they took, to be judged and voted on by anyone. I told Sarah about it and immediately thought of the Oreo cookie incident.

Seeing that picture in our newspaper was, in a word, awesome. It took about 1/1000th of a second to find the blurb, but it felt like an eternity. After telling Sarah that we won, we did something that I’m not sure whether to laugh about or be ashamed about. We high-fived each other. Twice.

The Next Great Adventure is Over the Mountain

March 27th, 2009 | Posted by Joe in adventures in babydom | Bad parenting | joe | learning | Sarah | trouble | Tyler | video - (3 Comments)


I have delayed this post as long as I could. Sarah wanted to blog about it when it happened. I told her that she’d better do so soon, else I would do so without remorse.

Tyler will be 9 months old tomorrow. I really don’t know where the time has gone. It seems like just yesterday that he was born. Don’t worry though, dear readers, I will not be posting a mushy stream of thought about how fast time is moving, and how I don’t want to miss anything, and blah blah blah. I’ll wait until he’s a year old before I do that.

This story began about 3 weeks ago. Sarah called to tell me that she took her eyes off Tyler for just a minute. During that small window of opportunity, Tyler climbed up one of the steps leading to the second floor. I sighed, because I knew it was time to buy another baby gate. We already have one that we use to keep Tyler out of the kitchen and away from Delilah’s water dish. I wanted to get one that had a door that we could swing open so that I wouldn’t have to step over it every time I walked from room to room. I made the classic mistake of not measuring before I bought it. The gate wasn’t nearly wide enough to fit in the stairway without some modifications. As a result, the gate didn’t go up right away.

Later that evening or the following evening, Sarah ran to the store while i played with Tyler. Tyler’s been somewhat needy for his mommy lately, so I had to take Tyler from room to room to show him that his mother wasn’t home. Crying, he crawled to the stairs and put his hands on the first step. I’m not sure what a good parent would have done in that situation. On one hand, it’s probably not a good idea for a baby to play by the stairs. On the other hand, anything he does right now is helping him learn, so who am I to take that away from Tyler? Plus, I was right there, so what could go wrong? Tyler climbed two stairs. The “on one hand” side of my brain barked at me to get him off the stairs before he kills himself. My God, Joe, he’s so high up right now!! If he were to fall from that height, the results would be disastrous! I grabbed Tyler from the stairs and begged him to never scare me like that again.

Later, I decided that the “on one hand” part of my brain was being a vagina and that the “on the other hand” part of my brain had it right by letting him learn stairs. At least under our supervision. While Sarah was upstairs, I grabbed the camcorder and called Tyler to the foot of the stairs with me.

”Go get your mommy.”

Sarah was less than pleased when she appeared at the top of the staircase, but “on the other hand” is a persuasive little turd. She compromised by coming halfway down the stairs. Tyler was being needy for his mommy and crying for her. And…

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kqDxg6DYprQ

Even later that evening, Tyler climbed the entire staircase, with no assistance at all.

A couple days ago, while Sarah was shopping, I decided that I needed a better shot of Tyler’s mountain climbing skills. So, I set the tripod at the top of the stairs and used Delilah as the bait up there. Why do I have so many bad ideas when there is no estrogen in the house?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JoqLPnO1Kzo

I dunno, I guess I just presumed that Tyler would tackle walking – or even just standing unassisted – before attempting the staircase.

Periosteum? I barely knew ‘im.

March 26th, 2009 | Posted by Joe in adventures in babydom | baby | Bad parenting | crying | dropping baby | joe | pain | pouting | Sarah | Tyler - (4 Comments)


Tyler likes to crawl. I would assume this is the case because it’s the only skill set he has in regards to mobility right now. Until he learns the finer details of bipedalism – balance comes to mind – I am forced to get down to “his level” when we play together.

A couple weeks ago, while on the floor and playing with Tyler, a mischievous little smile danced across his face. Luckily, those looks don’t instill fear in me. Yet. I’m sure the day will come where I’ll find myself in fear of what he had planned or already done. For now though, I had time to register mild curiosity before Tyler charged across the floor and bonked me in the head with his own. I am really not sure who was more amused over the event between the two of us. I said “BONK” while he laughed. Then he gave me that look again. Tyler rocked forward and thumped me again.

”BONK”, I gleefully reported back.

I backed away a few feet, hunkered down on all fours and echoed Tyler’s sly smile. His smile grew larger with each thump, thump, thump of his hands as they marched across the floor towards me.

BONK.

”BONK.”

We played this spin of “cat and mouse” that Tyler developed for about six or seven more BONKs. The light splashed across Tyler’s face just right and I noticed around ten red marks on his forehead. I checked the mirror to see that I had a similar pattern of marks on my forehead. For fear of giving Tyler brain damage, or him doing the same to me, I had to halt the game for the evening. We’ve played this game a few more times – actually, just about every day since the first – and he’s been BONKing me harder and harder each time. Thankfully, I can stop short of saying that it’s painful, but the boy definitely likes to BONK.

A few days ago, I was videotaping some of Tyler’s activities (which I’ll share very soon) when he saw the camcorder on the tripod. Just as I released the camcorder from it, Tyler grabbed the tripod, pulled it over, and BONKed himself real good in the head. Good enough to make him cry. I believe his tears were alligator tears and while I’m sure he was shocked, there’s no way it hurt him based on how hard he had previously been BONKing me in the head.

Yesterday, we were all sitting on the couch. I can sometimes get quite animated when I tell stories to people. I was telling Sarah something about Tyler and stood up while doing all sorts of hand motions to better emphasize my point. Tyler was sitting on the couch, facing the back of it and grabbed for Sarah’s phone. In the split second that we both had our attention diverted, he leaned back. Since he was facing the wrong way, he had nothing to lean back against, aside from air. Unfortunately for everyone involved, air can be displaced quite easily and provides little to no resistance. Imagine a scuba diver who just falls backwards off a boat into the water. Except the water is a floor, the scuba diver is an eight month old baby, and the boat is a couch that is a few feet above sea level. The sound of his head BONKing on the floor stopped my heart cold.

When Tyler hits his head, or gets smacked in the face by Delilah’s tail, a few things happen. First, I try to evaluate the situation and decide whether the incident would likely hurt an eight month old baby or not. Then, I purposely blank my face and look at him indifferently. If he starts crying and I’ve decided that it probably did hurt him, I pick him up and comfort him. If he cries and I’ve decided that – without a doubt – it did not hurt, I tell him, “That didn’t hurt baby boy.” If I’ve decided that it did hurt but he doesn’t cry, I modify my standards for Tyler’s pain threshold, and pretend nothing happened.

I was absolutely certain that this hurt Tyler.

In the times that I’ve observed Tyler with his fake tears and with his real tears, I’ve found that I can judge when he is legitimately hurt about 95% of the time. If he just starts yelling and crying, he’s probably faking it. He did not just yell and cry this time. He did the other thing; the thing that tells me he is really hurt.

It starts with no sound at all. First, he draws his lower lip up and pushes the corners down, into an open-mouthed frown. Then he pushes his bottom lip out into the common “pout” look. After this, he will then take a few hitching breathes while he opens and closes his mouth, ever so slightly, in time with the hitches. At this point, the cries will begin. That pouty face is the signal that he isn’t faking. I know that he’ll soon realize the power behind the pouty look, but I can definitely use it to my advantage for the time being.

Bumps, thumps, bonks, cracks, smacks. All this and no worse for the wear. This parenting this isn’t so bad.