The life and times of an irrational father. One man, multiple personalities.
Header

A Father’s Guilt Over Imaginary Monkey Poop

February 5th, 2010 | Posted by Joe in Bad parenting | family | irrational dad | milestones | poop | potty training | Tyler - (9 Comments)

Picture of Tyler

Potty training is not, as they sometimes say, “in full swing,” but we’re working on it. We’re at the point that Tyler knows to run his little ass as far away from us as possible when we see that he’s pooping and ask him about it. When asked, he provides no hesitation in telling us that he does not want to use the potty. So, for better or for worse, right or wrong, we’ve resorted to bribery to get Tyler to plant his butt on the potty. Personally, I don’t agree with using candy as a reward, but, well, that’s what we’re doing. Let’s face it, Joe, it’s not always about what you want. It’s a hard realization, and I’m coming to terms with it. All I know for sure is that if we don’t put on a united front, Tyler will conquer us.

When Tyler tries on the potty (a few minutes, at least. None of this sit-down, stand-up, done that he has attempted to pass off as “trying”), he is rewarded with one M&M candy. If he, um, produces results while on the potty, Tyler gets two M&M candies. If you’ve read my previous post, you already know that Tyler tries to convince us that he gets two candies just for trying.

A couple days ago, I was doing dishes in the kitchen, while Sarah slept upstairs, because it was her morning to sleep in. I looked over to Tyler, who had fallen uncharacteristically silent, and saw the tell-tale face. Bulging eyes… Red cheeks… Slightly opened mouth… Stern concentration…

“ARE YOU POOPING?! Let’s go use the potty!”

“NO!”

Tyler turned and ran from the kitchen, shouting, “NO NO NO NO NO NO NO!” He’s a quick little booger, too! I didn’t catch him until he hit the dead-end of the baby gate that led upstairs to the safety of his sleeping mommy.

I picked him up and put his butt to my nose, sniffing. Aww, shit, I thought. I took a moment to both appreciate the irony of that thought, and to wonder when exactly I got to the point of it being second nature to smell my toddler’s butt to check for poop.

I carried Tyler into the bathroom and we talked about where we need to make our pee-pees and poo-poos. He had all the right answers to my inquiries. Upon being asked, he told me he didn’t want to sit on the potty and frankly, I didn’t see the point in making him do so anyway.

“Okay buddy, but you don’t get candy if you don’t try.”

“Ah-ah…. poddy.”

“Do you think Ah-ah needs to use the potty?”

“Yeeeeah.”

We placed Tyler’s monkey on the potty and read a couple books to him. After finishing the second book, Tyler jumped up and yelled, “Candy! Two.” It came out more as “Kaynd! Doo,” but the parental translator that seems to have been implanted in my skull understood perfectly.

I told Tyler that Ah-ah was a good little monkey for making poo-poos in the potty, and would get two M&Ms for doing so.

“Yeeeah,” Tyler yelled while running into the kitchen.

Using slight-of-hand that would never fool the eyes of an adult, I gave Ah-ah two pieces of candy. All the while, Tyler slapped his chest, shouting, “TyTy! TyTy! TyTy! TyTy! TyTy!”

“I’m sorry, Tyler, but you didn’t use the potty. Ah-ah gets candy for using the potty, but not Tyler.”

An immense level of guilt descended and came to rest on my shoulders as I said those words. I’m giving fake candy to a fake monkey for taking a fake dump, and I’m rubbing Tyler’s nose in the fake stink of it.

Recently, I’ve been working with Tyler on faces. He loves making a happy face and a surprised face. Yesterday, we started making a poo-poo face. It’s just as it sounds; we make the face Tyler makes when he’s pooping. a few nights ago, while making poo-poo face for me and Sarah, Tyler peed in the potty! He was so excited (as were we)! Tyler started running in place, clapping his hands and shouting “I DID IT!” and “YAY!”

Then, he suddenly fell silent, looked at Sarah and yelled, “EMM EMM!”

“Yes, Tyler, you get two M&Ms for using the potty!”

All things being said, I’ll call it a success. I still feel guilty about gving Ah-ah candy and shunning Tyler. I’m glad that I didn’t get all hunter/gatherer on Sarah, pound my chest and refuse to hop on the M&M bandwagon with her (yes, I’m eating my words over here. OM NOM NOMNOM). Most of all, I’m hoping this is the last box of diapers we have to buy for Tyler.

Update after writing but before publishing this post:
Tyler has peed in the potty three times, lots of times in his diapers, and twice on the carpet. I don’t know who’s winning, but progress is progress.

Anyone have a spare attitude they can lend us?

November 20th, 2009 | Posted by Joe in Bad parenting | frustration | irrational dad | joe | parenting | Sarah | Tyler - (11 Comments)

Picture of Tyler and Joe

Is it considered inappropriate to tell a sixteen month old toddler that he is acting like a dick, and I would be extremely grateful if he would cease in being a dick? I had a less than fantastic day at work today. I spent hours on the phone speaking with customers, quality engineers, and other people that had no desire in making this a great day. This is after having a miserable day yesterday where my wife got mad at me for asking questions about homemade fingerpaint, and I got mad at her for being mad at me for not being able to read minds. Of course, it doesn’t help that I’m diagnosed bi-polar, don’t take meds, and have been dealing with gloomy, cold, rainy, and just generally shitty weather for the last couple days.

When I come home to a delicious dinner that Tyler refuses to eat, yet still says “More more more more more more more dada more more mama more more more,” I just want to scream out YES TYLER! I KNOW YOU WANT MORE EVEN THOUGH THERE IS MORE ALL OVER YOUR *#*@&$ PLATE!

We make excuses for him. He’s teething. He had a short nap. He had a really busy day. He’s teething. He didn’t sleep well last night. He’s teething. The fact is, he’s a toddler that can’t communicate with his parents as much as we both wish he could. He wants what he wants when he wants it, but Tyler just doesn’t have the means to tell us what exactly IT is. Last week, Tyler would say “no” to a question if the answer was no. “No” had one meaning. Today, “no” has multiple meanings. If he’s holding his cup and says “no,” it means Tyler doesn’t want his water anymore. Unfortunately, we didn’t know that’s what he was saying, so he threw a fit about it. God forbid he just set his water down and push it away.

Full disclosure though, it doesn’t really help that Sarah and I are pickers. We pick on each other all the time, and sometimes don’t know when is the WRONG time to pick on Tyler. Tonight, for example, Tyler desperately wanted to wear Sarah’s slippers. Sarah decided to put the slipper on her own foot. Meltdown. In her defense, we have been working with Tyler about sharing, and this seemed like a good time to continue those lessons even though we were already dealing with a tired toddler with maybe less patience than I had. Then he wanted to wear his cowboy boots. Bedtime was approaching shortly, so I told Tyler that he couldn’t wear his boots tonight, and that he’d have to wait until tomorrow. Meltdown. We told Tyler it was time to put away his toys. Meltdown. I looked at Tyler. Meltdown. I inhaled a lungful of oxygen. Meltdown. A butterfly in Oklahoma fluttered its wings. Meltdown.

I’m embarrassed to admit that I said, aloud, that, while I loved being a father, this was not one of those days.

There was a moment that made Sarah and I bust a gut though. We built a tower of mega-bloks (think big Lego blocks). Tyler was in mid-meltdown, so Sarah and I were doing our best to just ignore him. His cries and whines were drilling into my already critically low patience level, sucking any reserves dry. I took some spare mega-blocks and built an airplane. With the power of my imagination, and with guidance from my hand, the plane took flight. It circled the tower and soared the skies. In a moment of desperation, I crashed the plane into the tower, sending blocks scattering across the carpeted floor. I closed my eyes, ashamed that I couldn’t keep my cool just a bit longer. Weren’t we just about at the end of this particular nuclear reaction anyway? Why couldn’t I just hold my breath for a couple more seconds? As I lay on the floor, eyes still closed, Tyler fell silent.

“Mess. Booooom.”

The absolute innocence in his sweet little voice melts my soul. I could never imagine not being Tyler’s father. When he hugs me, kisses me, tells me he loves me, when he runs to me when I get home from work and wraps his arms around my legs saying “daddeee”; when he does these things, I feel so full of love and awe that my eyes swim for a moment. Sometimes I’m so caught off guard by these pure moments that I feel my breath catch and hitch in my chest.

I hope you didn’t come here expecting to laugh your ass off today. I’m a little apprehensive about actually putting this post up for the masses to read, but I guess parenting isn’t all sunshine and lollipops. While I really do enjoy talking about the lighter side of parenting, I also just really needed to get this off my chest.

I’m just not in a good place lately

This is why we can’t have nice things

November 8th, 2009 | Posted by Joe in irrational dad | joe | Sarah | Tyler - (11 Comments)

Picture

“No, Tyler! Don’t play wi- Ooooohhhhh CRAAAAAP!“

That, my friends, is the sound of countless warnings going unheeded. I heard the frustration, defeat, and, possibly, smugness in Sarah’s voice as she uttered those final two words. Unsure of exactly what Tyler had done, I walked into the room, ready to stand by Sarah’s side as she explained to Tyler what he had done and why he shouldn’t have. I was ready to echo some of Sarah’s key words, like “bad,” or “dangerous,” or “why can’t you be more awesome, like your father?” Oh boy, he’s gonna get it, I thought, because Sarah started her reprimand the very moment I entered the room.

“Remember how I told you not to leave your glasses where Tyler can reach them?”

Yeah, Tyler. Remember how mommy told y… Wait. “What?”

“Oh yah, Tyler just broke your glasses.”

No, wait. I thought we were uniting to stand against the little tyrant that gets into everything he shouldn’t be getting into. And shouldn’t we do so anyway? He did just break my glasses, after all. My very expensive glasses. Six weeks before Christmas. That should at least warrant a caning, or ten minutes of waterboarding, or, at the minimum, a stern talking to! Why are they both looking at me like I’m the one that’s in trouble?

Before I could start kicking Mega-Bloks across the room and shouting accusations of mutiny, a door shut in my mind. The deadbolt snapped into place, miraculously locking Extremely-IrrationalDad away before the anger could materialize. I calmly looked at the broken frame, cursing myself for leaving them on the arm of the couch, because I knew better. I KNEW better. That spot had ceased being a safe-zone months ago. All the while, my irrational self was pounding on the imaginary, yet very real door, screaming. But Tyler did this! Not me! Him! He did this! He broke the glasses! HE should have known better! I knew it was entirely my fault. I knew Tyler didn’t do anything wrong. But I tend to be irrational at times.

Rather than rub my nose in my own piss, Sarah didn’t say a word, which is completely out of character. Of course she’s told me countless times to put my glasses somewhere that Tyler can’t reach. Of course all those warnings went unheeded. She later admitted that she really wanted to remind me of all this but decided to bite her tongue. It’s a good thing, too, because the door holding back my anger was splintering. I suspect that Sarah saw the fire dancing in my eyes when she wisely decided to not pour mass quantities of thermite onto the flames.

But wait, the news gets better. I went to the eyeglass place a couple days ago. Those very expensive frames of mine? Well, they are two months out of warranty. Replacement frames to fit my lenses are equally very expensive. Have I mentioned yet that this is all six weeks before Christmas? I have a pretty weak prescription and decided that I would just go without glasses through the holidays (you know, when all the really horrible drivers are out and about). As I walked out, a customer followed me and told me to take my glasses to a jeweler. He said that they can solder quite nicely and extremely cheaply.

Twenty four hours and twenty dollars later, my glasses are back and good as new. Unless you are staring at them from three inches away, you can’t tell they had ever been broken. Twenty dollars! I’m elated.

A conversation about glue

November 6th, 2009 | Posted by Joe in Bad parenting | conversations | irrational dad | Sarah | Tyler - (8 Comments)

Picture

The scene: I’m in the kitchen, cleaning after dinner. You know, loading the dishwasher, wiping counters, the works. Sarah and Tyler are in the living toom, playing with Tyler’s farm animals and tractors.

Sarah: Can the cows go for a ride?
Tyler: Moooo.
Sarah: Hop in, cows, let’s go to the slaughterhouse.

I paused for a couple moments, pondering whether I really heard what I thought I did. I failed in my attempts to think of another word that she may have said that would make more sense while playing with a sixteen month old.

Sarah: You can hop in too, horse. We’ll swing by the glue factory first.

*blink*

Me: SARAH!!!!!
Sarah: *wild laughter*

I walked into the office, so I could document the conversation I just overheard. For blogging purposes. And for Tyler’s psychiatrist in 25 years.

Sarah: Uh oh, TyTy, I think I’m in trouble.
Tyler: Tub.

No Sarah, dear wife, you’re not in tub. Not yet. But I would like to submit this post as Exhibit A, in the event of any future litigation. I just want to make sure my hands are clean when the bailiff calls forward the parties for “The State of Indiana v. Sarah”.  Don’t worry though, Tyler will still think you’re the most beautiful mommy in the world, even if he does have to talk to you through three inches of polycarbonate thermoplastic, and see you in a bright orange jumpsuit.

It’s a little early for THIS, isnt it?

November 5th, 2009 | Posted by Joe in irrational dad | lies | Tyler - (9 Comments)

Picture

We have this cool Leapfrog toy. It has a magnetic base that attaches to the fridge. It comes with ten magnets. Each magnet is either the front or the back of a vehicle. You can make a car, a truck, an airplane, a train, or a boat. When you do so, the base sings a song about them. It also says funny things if you make a plane-train, or a boat-car, etc. Do you think Tyler wants to play with it? No, he’d rather play with the simple, orange, round magnet that is just out of his reach.

“Howwwp,” he says.

“Help? Help with what?”

I gave the magnet to him after he pointed at it, and mumbled under my breath about wasting money on toys he doesn’t play with[1], and went back to unloading and loading the dishwasher.

“Howwwp.”

I looked back to see Tyler pointing at the space between the fridge and freezer doors. I mumbled something about the fact that the Leapfrog magnets were bigger than that gap, and Tyler wouldn’t need my help if he would just play with those magnets, and not the one that came free with a dry erase board. Instead of explaining this to Tyler, I simply retrieved the magnet and continued my chore.

“Howwwwp.”

Five times. FIVE TIMES he did this. Five times he didn’t learn not to do that. Five times I explained to him that he shouldn’t put the magnet between the doors because then he gets upset and needs daddy’s help and, while I’d love to play with him, I really needed to finish cleaning up the kitchen like a good husband.

I returned to the sink to rinse off some more dishes and load them in the dishwasher. A moment later, I turned my head to spy on Tyler. He had the magnet pinched between his little fingers, inserted halfway between the doors. He looked up at me and froze. With our eyes locked and neither of us saying a word, he, very slowly, pulled his hand and the magnet back and placed it on the front of the fridge. And he did this thinking that I wouldn’t notice what he was just about to do. Like, if he moved slow enough, I would have been none the wiser to his original intent. Sneaky little booger.

Now hold on just a gee dee second here…

This means that Tyler knew that putting the magnet between the doors was something that daddy didn’t want him to do. He knew this but was going to do so anyway. He knew right from wrong and yet still decided to be mischievous. He DECIDED to do this. Sneaky. Little. Booger. Why am I freaking out about this? Well first of all, because I always freak out. It’s a part of my genome. Secondly, this is just a precursor to much more ominous things.

“Tyler, did you try to cram a piece of bread in the DVD player?”
“No, daddy.”

“Tyler, do you know how my car door got that huge dent? And why there appears to be blood all over the cracked windshield?”
“Sorry, pops, I think it’s been like that for a while. Did you ask mom?”

“Son, do you know why my oatmeal tastes like rat poison?”
“Dad, you’re going crazy in your old age. Just eat the oatmeal. Oh, and I need you to sign this power of attorney form, and a couple changes I made to your will. It’s just technical stuff, don’t worry about anything.”

[1] Truth be told, he does play with this toy, but not avidly.