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

September 10th, 2010 | Posted by Joe in joe | storytime | superhero | Tyler - (8 Comments)

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The radio chatter sent a chilling message. Invasion. Chaos. Extinction. I flipped the radio to the secure comm frequency and listened. All combat-ready personnel were being summoned to Sector 7 for an emergency briefing. One look at my partner told me we weren’t going to be there. Just as well, I thought. It’d be nothing more than a pep rally. Some patriotic speech about freedom, life, liberty, and their continued pursuit of their inflated paychecks, to get our blood boiling and adrenaline flowing. The orders would be the same, though. Gear up and protect this rock we call home. The resistance had somehow penetrated the outer forces that we all foolishly believed were impenetrable, and now it was up to us grunts to stop, or maybe only slow down, the attack. There were two things that the resistance didn’t prepare for. The Space Rangers, and our taste for blood!

“Tyler! Help me with my wings!”

Tyler rushed over and helped lift the carbon-fiber, TJ-0628 Flight Enhancement unit onto my shoulders. In a flash, he secured it to the anchor points on my space ranger armor. He verbalized each step, something we were trained to do years ago, to prevent any detachments during flight. “Buckle buckle buckle buckle.”

“Thanks, bud! Sounds about right,” I cried over the sound of machine gun rattle. “Where are your wings at?”

“Over dare,” he shouted. In a burst of speed, he retrieved the TJ-0628.

Moments later, the two remaining members of the Space Rangers were ready for war. In a room that typically housed hundreds of biologically modified men, capable of superhuman strength and speed, only two men stood. We were the last. Earth’s final hope. But we were also the best.

“To infitty… n bond!”

Space Ranger Tyler rocketed into the clouds, and I was quick to follow. With uncanny precision, he dived into a valley.

I keyed the mic on the secure communications radio. “Tyler, where are you going?”

“I find a bad guy, over here!”

“Ok, let me come help you,” I replied. But it was too late. I barely had a chance to circle back when I spotted him through my visor. He was already headed towards the prison – which looked surprisingly like a dog’s crate.

I caught up and pressed a code onto the keypad. The prison door swung open. Tyler threw the bad guy in and the door clanged shut. He grunted, “You tay in dare, bad guy!”

“Yeah,” I snarled. “You stay in there, you bad guy!”

The hours turned into days. Progress was being made, and the bad guys were quickly filling the cells. The sound of the prison door banging closed over and over again was satisfying. And each time the door locked, Tyler rocketed away, looking for his next capture. His mission was clear and time was against us. Collect the bad guys, collect the bounty, and protect humanity. I turned to take Tyler’s six and heard a low growl in the shadows. I wheeled around and readied my weapon, but it was too late. In an instant, I was paralyzed in the bone crushing grip of something big. Something very big. Tyler was merely a blip on my visor and I had no hope of freeing myself. Still, the grip tightened, and simply drawing air into my lungs became strained. I activated the comm channel and allowed the fear to come through in my voice.

“Tyler, Tyler, help me! I’m caught. A bad guy has me!”

With no delay, Tyler’s flight path arced back towards my position, and his voice boomed in my helmet. “I get ‘im! I catch a bad guy!”

He zipped past me, out of my sight. A moment later, I was pulled backward. Then, the pressure weighing on and around my body relaxed. And then, it disappeared entirely. The HUD overlay on my visor blipped out and a soothing, computerized voice surrounded me. “Warning. Space suit integrity compromised. Systems check initiated. Ten seconds remaining.”

Any movements beyond rolling my eyes or sticking my tongue out were a virtual impossibility with the approximate weight of a pickup truck on my shoulders. Still, this was a walk in the park compared to the 45 seconds it took for the predecessor of the TJ-0628 armor to recalibrate its biometric sensors and reboot its core processes. The voice never returned to inform me that the checks were complete, but the weight suddenly lifting from my shoulders told me I’d either been lifted in the air by a massive force, or the servos and hydraulics in the suit were operational again. I spun around to see Tyler closing the prison gate.

“Thanks, Tyler. That bad guy really had me!”

“Yeah.”

“It looks like we’ve caught all the bad guys. Thanks for your help buddy. Let’s go back and take these wings off.”

Tyler’s eyes shifted to look over my shoulders. “I see anudder un! I go get him!”

I turned to follow his flight path, but couldn’t see the bad guy. “Where is he, Tyler? I don’t see him.”

Tyler dived, grabbed something, and swooped back into the air. How he was able to see such a well-hidden baddie was beyond me. “Good job, Tyler! I didn’t even see him!”

“I got him. I’m a eat him in my belly,” he said. A moment later, he put the bad guy in his mouth. “Om nom nom nom NOM!”

And with that, our mission was complete. We landed and assisted each other with the removal of our gear and armor. The supreme high commander approached us and asked, “Did you boys have fun?”

Tyler spoke for both of us, and said, “Yes Mommy!”

Tyler has an imagination, and it truly amazes me…

Tiny holes for tiny straws

June 8th, 2009 | Posted by Joe in sad | scared | sick Tyler | superhero | surgery - (3 Comments)

 
Tyler has surgery tomorrow, June 10th, 2009.

I know I lied about this once before*, but I’m serious this time. Tyler needs real surgery.

After three courses of antibiotic treatments, some chiropractic visits, probiotic supplements and crossed fingers, Tyler’s ear digging continues.

At his last appointment, our doctor grimaced when she looked into his ears. She referred us (I say "us", but I was working, so it was Sarah and Tyler) to an ENT (ear, nose and throat specialist) who got us in for a same-day consultation. After reviewing Tyler’s history with Sarah, he took a peek into Tyler’s ears and the decision was made.

I can’t say I’m surprised, because Sarah had multiple ear surgeries as a child, and her dad also had ear problems as a youngster. So, deep down, I had a feeling fear that we would end up down this road.

The surgery itself isn’t a very big deal. The surgeon will cut a tiny, tiny hole in each eardrum, then place a tiny, tiny straw into each hole. This will then allow air into his ears so that the goop in there can dry up and/or drain out. Going under the knife before he’s even a year old is unfortunate, but necessary. The "knife" part isn’t what concerns me; it’s the "going under" part. The very day that the ENT tells us Tyler needs surgery, I see this article online. If you don’t want to read the article, here’s a snippet:

Now a new study from the Mayo Clinic, published on March 24 in the journal Anesthesiology, finds a link between exposure to anesthesia during surgery in infancy and learning disabilities later in life — the first such study to do so in humans — making the decision to operate even more fraught for both parents and doctors.

The article goes on to say that this is very preliminary data, and that they aren’t sure if there is a definitive link or if there’s just an association. Essentially, the takeaway from the article is "don’t worry… yet."

There’s nothing I can do about it, and I know it seems trivial to worry over something as simple as getting ear tubes, but I suspect that’s all part of being a parent.

I wonder if I can talk the surgeon into injecting some type of superhuman powers into Tyler… just a thought.

* I’m happy to report that Tyler looks like a tiny me again. Viva la Joe’s genetic sequence!

Stuff You Shouldn’t Be Doing, Tyler

February 11th, 2009 | Posted by Joe in Bad parenting | milestones | standing | superhero | teething | Tyler - (4 Comments)
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This picture has nothing to do with the content of this blog. Tyler’s teething, so he makes this face a lot.

Tyler has some pretty cool toys. He has this really awesome ball that’s got a plastic monkey perched on the top of it. It makes noises and music when you roll it, and the monkey somehow manages to always stay on top. He has a turtle that counts to four, says shape names, and sings to the tune of an Italian song. He also has a spinning top type toy with animals on it. It sings, counts, lights up, and makes animal sounds.

They’re great toys and, as a bonus to me, aren’t very expensive. I can see how these toys can help to teach things, like cause and effect, and other cool terms that aren’t coming to my mind right now. And Tyler plays with none of them. I try to engage him, I really do. I giggle like a little girl while I bat the monkey ball around, amazed at the monkey’s ability to balance precariously atop the green and blue ball. My acting ability is top notch. I can fool any child under the age of two into believing that I am genuinely delighted by this marvel of a toy. This is, of course, partly because I am genuinely delighted by this marvel of a toy. I want to take it apart and see how this modern-day version of a Weeble Wobble works.

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I hope cardboard isn’t unhealthy

Tyler has no such interest. He looks at it – with just a hint of curiousity – for a moment, then proceeds to chew on my slipper. While it’s on my foot. And I don’t stop him. I’ll have to file this post under the “bad parenting” category.

As much as I’ve been praying that Tyler will develop superpowers, and become a real-life superhero, the one thing I do not want is for him to have any psychic powers. I find myself less-than-amused at his innate ability to find everything that he shouldn’t be playing with. If there are ten toys surrounding Tyler, and one of Delilah’s chewed-up ropes, Tyler will see the rope, and only the rope, and he will commence on chewing said rope. Why he has no desire to play with the toys that we paid good money for is beyond the scope of my knowledge. I’m going to become a millionaire by developing a product that will be guaranteed to get any child interested in any item of your choosing. It’s going to be a sticker that simply says, “Keep out of reach of children”. You put that sticker on his least favorite toy, and he’ll never put it down again.

Until I manufacture and market my idea, Sarah and I have to try to stay one step ahead of Tyler. I have a feeling that we will be playing this “game” for years and years to come. If we so much as blink after setting him on the floor, he’ll have a power cord in his mouth. Tyler must think that “no” is a slang term for “awesome work, my dear boy. Your very survival is solely dependent on your eating cords at any and every opportunity”. Tyler’s has 2 other favorite items in our house. One is either a plant stand, or the ivy plant resting upon it; we haven’t determined yet which of the two he is enamored with. He grabs at it every chance he gets. No amount of “no”, or “bad”, or “ucky” will dissuade him from reaching for it. When he does get his paws on it, he slides it closer to him. The sound of the wooden legs sliding across the hardwood floor is like a Klaxon alarm for us. We immediately have to charge after him and start with the calls of “no”, and “we don’t play with that”.

Tyler’s other, and probably more, favorite household item is Delilah’s water dish. I don’t know how to keep him out of it. So far, all he’s interested in is splashing his hand in it, but I’m petrified of what could happen if left to his own devices long enough. I’ve been unable to come up with a solution that allows Delilah to get to her water, but still keeps Tyler away from it. Maybe I could install one of those wireless fence systems in our house. Anytime Tyler goes near the water dish, which will be just outside of the boundary, he will be delivered a high-voltage reminder of his lapse in judgment via a wireless elastic headband. I’m open to ideas, dear readers. In the meanwhile, I’ve got something else I’d like to talk about.

The library group that Sarah and Tyler attend had Valentine’s Day treats on Tuesday. So, Sarah went to the store Monday night (yes babe, I just called you out for waiting until the last minute) to pick up some ingredients. She made a chocolate covered strawberry concoction, and it was delicious. Sarah is very gifted in the kitchen. It’s win-win for me, because she loves to cook and try new things, and I love to eat. The added perk is that I get to be a taste tester when she makes these delicious desserts. If it weren’t for my insane metabolism, I should easily weigh in at 300 or more pounds.

I’ve jumped off track. While Sarah was at the store, I played on the floor with Tyler. He was having a blast knocking over the towers of blocks that I was building. Unfortunately, our floors aren’t very level, so any stacks higher than 6 or 7 blocks is impressive. As I completed one such stack, I turned to Tyler to let him know I needed his destructive assistance. I found myself unable to form words or even thoughts when I looked at him. When thought did finally return, I had trouble deciding on whether I should yell at Tyler, or grab my camera. I decided to do both.

“Tyler!!!”, I yelled, jumping to my feet. “Don’t move! Where’s my camera?”

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Yup, he can pull himself up now.

With the help of some living room furniture, Tyler – all by himself – pulled himself to a stand. I didn’t run fast enough, though. When I returned, he was crawling to the tower o’ blocks to demonstrate his skill at unstacking. Fortunately for my “I have to document this” side, and unfortunately for my “he’s growing up too fast” side, Tyler crawled to the entertainment center and pulled himself up, four more times! One of those times, he turned and looked directly into my eyes, and I swear to you that the expression on his face said, “watch this”. Then he just let go and plopped on his butt, and smiled at me.

I really was excited, really, and I expressed it as much as I could to him, with high pitched wows, and saying stuff like “good job” and “that’s my big boy”. But I’m worried that Tyler saw the fear that swam just below the surface of my visible emotions.

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Tyler just let go of the only thing holding him up

Super-baby

October 29th, 2008 | Posted by Joe in big baby | superhero | Tyler - (5 Comments)
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Tyler held onto his own bottle
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Tyler had his 4 month wellness checkup today. The purpose was to weigh him, measure him, and answer any questions that we had. Unfortunately, I had a pretty full day today and couldn’t make it. Instead, Sarah had to call me and update me on how it went when it was over with.

As of today, Tyler weighs 20 pounds and 10 ounces, and measures at 27.5 inches tall… or roughly the size of a 9-month old. Our family doctor actually asked Sarah how tall I was. Sarah told her that I’m 5 foot 10 (I’m 5 foot 11.5, for the record). I’m also a meager 165 pounds. This little son of mine is already 1/8 my weight, and 38% of my height. The doc simply said that we must have super genes.

Tyler’s Height Tracker

Tyler’s Weight Tracker

This really ticked me off. I’ve spent most of my childhood and – so far – ALL of my adulthood believing that it was my destiny to become a super-hero. I’m 30 years old. With every day that passes, I am increasingly faced with the possibility that it simply isn’t going to happen. I’ve had days that I believed “The Matrix” was a movie about what I would become one day. Am I now supposed to believe that those movies were nothing more than a fictional story? I just don’t know if I can accept that. I’ve been practicing my “I know kung-fu” and “whoa” lines so that I’d get them right when the time came for me to spar with my mentor and jump from one rooftop to another, respectively.

Now I have to come to terms with the fact that I may not be destined to become a superhero and that my son may have gotten the gift that was meant for ME! It’s not fair. I never thought I’d be put in a position where I would have to live vicariously through my son. I’m going to have to throw him in front of a train so that I can watch HIM not get hurt. I’ll have to watch a bad guy shoot Tyler in the eyeball on a building rooftop to witness the bullet crumple and fall away from HIS stronger-than-steel retina. It should have been me. I have to admit, though, that it would be super cool to be able to say, “Tyler, fly me to Best Buy. I don’t feel like driving there today because I’m in a hurry.” Or “Tyler, use your x-ray vision and tell me how long the line is at Applebee’s.” Still, it wouldn’t be as awesome as doing those things myself, instead of having to use Tyler as my own personal aircraft.

How am I, as a seemingly normal person, supposed to raise a superhero? There’s a whole new level of “right and wrong” that I have to teach him. Anger management will also need to be addressed. I certainly don’t want Tyler to destroy an entire supermarket just because Sarah won’t buy him a squirtgun. And how do you discipline a child who could crush you with his bare hands? He could probably make me go insane just by thinking it.

My only solution, at this point, is to strap him to a table in my yet-to-be-built dungeon until I can fully understand his powers. I’m going to need to invest in some beakers, bubbly green liquids, and some swirly glass tubes. I’ll extract his DNA sequence using a highly scientific method of pricking his finger with a needle and putting a drop of blood on one of those glass slide things that scientists put under a microscope. I’ll cure his pain by the other highly scientific method of kissing the boo-boo and applying a Bob the Builder band-aid to the DNA extraction site. Then, using plans downloaded off the internet, I’ll construct a gamma-ray burst gun and a DNA re-sequencer to enhance the powers and introduce them to my genetic code.

I’m sure there’s something morally wrong with making one’s own son the human equivalent of a lab rat. But, I promise to offset that evilness by capturing at least 4 bank robbers, and 2 carjackers. For good measure, I’ll even save a cat from a tree and return Mr. Fluffles to the little old lady that accidentally let him out of the house.

Destiny…. here I come!!!