SEARCHED TWO DAYS FOR THIS CHICKEN...

took me another two to talk him into the job. – W.C. Fields

Have you ever pureed a chicken before?  I have now.  I’ve been making Ellie’s baby food.  Up to this point, it’s just been fruits and vegetables.  You throw anything in the blender and shabam, instant baby food.  But when it came time for chicken and putting it in a blender, I began to worry a little bit.  If she hated green beans and peas at first, I’m not sure how chicken is going to go over.

So I fry up some chicken with a little salt and pepper, cut it into cubes and begin to puree.  It’ looks weird and not smooth enough.  So I add some water and blend again.  Now that’s a smooth chicken.  I’ve just made a chicken smoothie.  My first reaction is that this is gross.  But then I think to all the weird fancy French food and Japanese food I’ve had.  Scallops with lobster foam, squid ink pasta, and things like that.  So a chicken smoothie shouldn’t be so bad.  I taste it.  It tastes good!  I don’t know what I was expecting, but it tastes like chicken. 

Now it’s time to give the chicken smoothie to Ellie.  She opens her mouth expecting something she’s used to.  She is immediately surprised at this new substance in her mouth.  She gets it down and opens for more.  But she keeps making a face, like it’s a horrible texture.  So I mix it with green beans to smooth it out.  Now we have a green bean chicken smoothie.  Maybe I should open up a smoothie stand.  I’d have the best flavors!  Beef, green beans, and apples.  Strawberry, banana, and chicken.  Matt’s smoothies are finger lickin’ good!

THE KIRBY

I was getting over a cold.  Ellie had barely napped so I was feeling extra exhausted and all I wanted to do was rest.  Finally at 5:00pm, Ellie quietly sits next to me eating her cheerios.  This buys me a lot of time because her hand-eye coordination isn’t the greatest yet.  It takes her 5 tries to get the cheerio in her mouth and then it keeps falling out.  Then she repeats.  So I’m lying on the floor, half in a daze, Ellie with her snacks, and I’m relaxed.  And then someone knocks on the door.  Ah man…  The window is open, they can probably see me lying here, I guess I need to get it.  But maybe it’s a kid selling candy bars, I could go for one of those.  I have to get it now.  I bring Ellie as to intimidate whoever is there, to reverse pressure them into leaving.  Who wants to sell something to me when I have a fussy kid in my hands right?  I get to the door and there are two guys with ties.  He says something really fast as he hands me a thing of Bounty paper towel telling me it’s free.  I say, uh, ok.  They get excited and say they will be right back.  I stand there stunned and very worried to what I just agreed to.

They come back with two big boxes and they start moving the table out of the way and are asking me questions.  The thing in the box is a vacuum, but not only a vacuum.  It’s a Kirby.  I then realize, these are door-to-door salesmen.  I didn’t know they still existed.  And they are selling vacuum cleaners.  This sounds so stereotypical of the 1950s.  I’m the lonely housewife trapped at home and they are trying to take advantage of me.  Should I offer them a beverage, I think.  What would June Cleaver do?  They said that they are not “selling” these, they are just giving demos, because these aren’t sold in stores.  I can handle a demo I think.  So the first guy Todd leaves, and Chester stays behind to give me the demo that I somehow agreed to.  So now it’s me, Chester, Ellie… and a Kirby. 

So the demo starts.  Ellie is afraid of vacuums, and really hasn’t slept all day.  I’m getting over being sick, I’m tired and not feeling well.  This combined with a stranger vacuuming my house showing me how dirty it is just doesn’t seem like a good combination.  Ellie hangs on to me for dear life as the vacuum roars on and off.  As the demo progresses I start getting interested in this machine.  It looks cool, it does a good job, etc.  But I’m also tired of standing, and standing with a baby in my arms.  I glance at the clock and realize this guy isn’t going anywhere anytime soon.  I quickly become disinterested and am just waiting it out.  I want him to leave before my wife, Aya, gets home.  Finally, the demo is coming towards the end and Chester calls Todd to come back and pick him up.  Chester was very professional, very thorough, and I think he knew I had no intention of buying a vacuum.  He was reading my queues, my wife’s cues, and Ellie’s cues.  Todd on the other hand, after sitting in the van for two hours popping caffeine pills and downing Red Bulls, was not going to take no for an answer.

I think if I just say it’s a great machine, but we bought a new vacuum about 6 months ago, that they’ll leave.  WRONG.  Todd hears this as “please try harder, I want one of these.”  He keeps telling me he’s not “selling” these.  He tells me, it’s a choice of choosing to live in this filth with this dirt, or to live without it.  He tries to guilt trip me into buying one, that my house isn’t safe.  I’ve made it this far in this flith.  I tell him, I’m gonna have to choose to live in it.  I don’t have $2,000 to spend on a vacuum cleaner right now.  Keep in mind, I’m not an aggressive person and I don’t do well during awkward confrontations.  Some may even call me a push-over at times.  So as Todd keeps pressuring me and pressuring me, I’m staying firm, but polite.  Too polite.

By now, Aya is home and I’m trying to keep her out of it because I know it’ll take a bad turn.  But Todd is one persistent fellow, and also stupid.  Todd brings Aya into it.  I keep thinking, you’re poking the bear, you’re poking the bear.  You don’t insult the people you are trying to sell something to.  He keeps saying he feels sorry for us to live like this, especially with children.  Aya has no problem holding back.  She gives him the hand and says, “I don’t appreciate your high pressure sales tactics, and you are interrupting our family time.  I don’t like your guilt tripping either.”  Todd just keeps going, but he’s getting ruder and ruder and more disrespectful.  And being desperate he keeps saying that we’ll help them make their goal for the contest so they can go to Florida.  I don’t care, Aya doesn’t care if they go to Florida.  We’re not paying $2,000 so these clowns can go to Florida.  Chester stays quiet.  He knows this isn’t going anywhere.  I chime in again politely saying, we can’t spend that money right now, maybe in the future.  Then he calls Aya sweetheart.  He poked the bear.  “Do NOT call me sweetheart.”  Now Aya is really pissed. 

Needless to say, we didn’t buy the Kirby, and after this, we never will buy a Kirby.  After some last few mildly polite words, they finally pack up and leave.  Aya heatedly goes upstairs to get Ellie ready for her bath.  Ellie is nude crawling on the carpeted floor excitedly awaiting her bath… and then she pees on the carpet.  Wait a minute, we did get that free roll of Bounty.  I guess the last two and half hours wasn’t a complete waste.

DEAR FRIEND,

Thank you for always being there for me.  Through the good times and the bad.  When times are tough, when times are rough, you’re always there for me.  When I’m feeling down, you make me laugh and smile.  When I need an adventure you provide excitement.  When I feel lonely, you provide companionship.  When I cry, you don’t judge me.  When I go on an eating binge of too much ice cream and junk food, you say nothing.  When I’m sick, you keep me company, day or night.  No matter what I need, you are always there, and you never ask for anything in return.  I love you Netflix.  And with 1000s of titles available for instant streaming, no matter what my mood is, you know just what to say.

KOKOMI'S KORNER





DOWN BY THE RIVER

Besides sittin’ on the porch, another thing I love to do when the weather is nice is to take Ellie down by the river to the park.  The park is a magical place.  You can see a lot of things and people at the park no matter what time of day it is.  One time my wife and I saw a big biker guy get down on one knee and propose to his girlfriend right at the water.  Another time I saw an elderly man singing while playing the guitar on a bench.  There are always families going for walks, people fishing, or older couples walking hand-in-hand.  It’s a place where you really feel like you are part of a great community… and it makes for great people watching.

When I first started the at-home Dad duties, getting Ellie to go down for a nap was a struggle.  So every day we would start the morning with a walk down by the river to get her to fall asleep.  Sometimes it would be two or three walks down by the river.  We’d walk through the neighborhood, down the main strip, and then hit the park.  By then she would be asleep and we’d park it on a bench.  I’d read my book praying she wouldn’t wake up.  Sometimes I’d stare at the same sentence for 20 minutes stressed out about the sounds of the seagulls.  It’s funny what she would sleep through, and what would wake her up.  For example, a garbage truck would pull up and grab a dumpster and slam it down.  She wouldn’t even flinch.  But then one of the car river sitters would sneeze, and her eyes would pop open.  Eventually, she needed less and less walks, and it got hotter and hotter so we didn’t come around as much.  Now when we come to the park, it’s just for fun.  On this particular trip, we played on the grass and people watched.

When we first entered the park, we were greeted by an adult balloon toss.  I haven’t seen or participated in a balloon toss since the fifth grade.  Now right in front of me was a group of adults tossing water balloons back and forth in the park.  I love this place!  Then as we made our way to our shady grassy spot (to assume our type 1 activities), we see a group of wheelchair smokers having a picnic.  Yep, it looks exactly what it sounds like.  A group of old ladies in wheelchairs smoking and sitting around a table having a picnic.  Nothing like getting out for fresh air.  Before we get to our regular spot, we had to pass in front of the car river sitters.  These people sit in their cars and stare not at the water, but at you.  Or anybody else walking by.  They think you don’t notice their nosy eyes peering over their newspaper at you, but you do.  I always find it weird that they always have the windows rolled up no matter what the weather is.  As we get situated on the grass, we see the regulars go by like the jeans jogger.  This guy jogs through the park wearing jeans.  At first I thought he was running from somebody.  Because if you are wearing jeans and running, chances are you are being chased.  But when you see him on every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, you realize maybe he’s jogging.  And then there is Hank.  I call him Hank.  You can see him not only at the park, but all over town driving his Hoveround up and down the streets.  He has a wicker hat and an American flag attached to the front basket.  I think this is awesome because when I’m old, and if I need a Hoveround, I would definitely be cruzin’ all over town.  Ellie didn’t seem phased by any of this though.  She was just amazed by the grass.  Actually, a little uneasy about it at first.  She just sat there afraid to move.  “Ahhh… what is this?  This is not the soft carpet I’m used to.”  Then she realized she could pull out the grass, and then tried to eat it.  “This green carpet is fun.”

As Ellie gets lost in her new green wonderland, I reminisce to when my grandparents took me to this very park.  For a moment I remember it like it was yesterday.  My grandparents with my brother and me, we’re holding a bag of dried bread crumbs and there’s a swarm of seagulls at our feet.  And then I wonder if I will I be taking my grandkids here… cruisin’ on my Hoveround.

 

LADIES, BABIES, and LUNCH

Now that I’ve had a couple months of being a stay-at-home Dad under my belt, I felt it was time to host a lunch.  I’ve been out to lunch a few times with Ellie, and she’s met other babies, but now I felt ready to have people over.  I can handle this I think.  It’s time to show off my mom skills.  I decide to cook, and I’m also going to make an apple bundt cake.  I really want a cake and this is the perfect excuse to make one.  And to be very honest, I don’t mind too much if they don’t like it, because I’m mostly making it for me.  The event was lunch, and the reason was to catch up with some good friends; four adults and three babies.  Haniyyah, Meghan, and Melissa.  Haniyyah’s baby, Zayna, is just over a year.  Melissa’s baby, Marcello, is almost 5 months.  And Ellie is 8 months.  We were all coworkers, but between moving, or getting canned, none of us work together anymore.  And now, all of us have kids expect for Meghan.  I thought I knew what to expect.  I thought I knew what I was getting myself into…      

THE EVENT

I wake up at 9:00am in a panic.  Ellie had kept me up between the hours of 3:00am and 5:30am.  This was not part of my plan.  I have three hours to feed Ellie, make a cake, prep lunch, and take a shower.  And of all the times Ellie decides to be fussy and clingy, it happens to be this morning.  She is rarely fussy in the morning.  She’s usually hanging out by the front door chewing on a shoelace.  But today, she’s holding onto my leg and whining.  I try to put her down, I try to get her to play, but nothing works.  I even try holding her while I cook.  It’s pretty hard peeling an apple one-handed.  As I watch the clock, I quickly realize I will not be showering this morning. 

Haniyyah arrives a little after 11:00am while I am trying to put Ellie down for her nap.  After a half hour of fighting Ellie to get her to fall asleep, I make my grand entrance downstairs.  But Zayna does not find me so grand, and is not in a good mood.  Haniyyah tries to put her down for her nap.  Finally, I can get my cake in the oven and try to clean up my mess.  It was one cake, but since I was trying to do it with a baby in my arms it looked like I had wrestled a live chicken in a flour factory on my counter.  At 11:45am Meghan and Melissa show up with Marcello.  He’s just chill.  Having a bit of trouble falling asleep, Zayna is back downstairs.  With my kid down, and all my guests in the living room, I’m finally able to start cooking lunch.

While I’m cooking, Haniyyah and Melissa are grossing Meghan out with pregnancy and breast feeding stories.  I think I overheard words like “stretch marks” and “sore nipples.”  Meghan loves babies, but she has a squeamish stomach with certain things.  For example, she was horrified when I told her we had my wife’s placenta in our freezer.  I joked that we planned on making strawberry peach and placenta smoothies.  She was not impressed.

At 12:30pm Ellie wakes up and is ready to join the fun.  Out of the 5 hours everyone was over, this was the only 10 minutes that all three babies were awake at the same time.  There they were, all three babies lined up on the couch.  Ellie is excited to see her friends, Zayna is totally stressed about her personal space being invaded, and Marcello is just chill.  Not knowing how to handle two women he just lies there motionless.  Ellie tries to bond with Zayna first by admiring her hair.  “Wow, do you use conditioner?”  Zayna replies with a “Who is this kid, and why is she grabbing my hair!?”  She has a meltdown.  Marcello and Ellie pretend not to notice.  It’s an awkward moment for them, like when you were a kid over at a friend’s house and their parent’s start arguing in front of you at the dinner table.  Ten minutes later Zayna goes down for her nap.  Then there were two.

Ellie, a little hurt and embarrassed by the rejection from Zayna, isn’t too eager to make fast friends with Marcello yet.  Although a little intimated by an older woman, Marcello leans in to make his move.  But now he’s getting tired.  So he goes down for a nap.  Then there was one.

Finally, around 1:00pm we eat lunch.  We are all able to really chat and catch up at this point.  It’s funny how things change, and how they stay the same.  The three of us parents just keep talking about our kids. Comparing stories about poop and sleep schedules.  But Meghan still doesn’t disappoint with her crazy stories.  Stories of people leaving threatening notes on her car, creepy neighbors that comment on when she showers, or her weekend party night shenanigans.   I think we all live vicariously through her and her stories now.

Marcello is still asleep by the table and Ellie's on the prowl.  With him sleeping and strapped into the bouncy chair, Ellie finds this to be the best time to try to make friends with him.  She crawls over and starts grabbing his face and his feet.  He's got nowhere to go. 

At 3:00pm Zayna wakes up in a much better mood.  But Marcello went down again so it’s just the ladies who are awake.  Ellie tries to make friends again, but Zayna cries.  And because she cries, Ellie cries, and because Ellie cries, Zayna cries.  Haniyyah is holding both of them now and Zayna is crying thinking “Let go of that other kid!” and Ellie is crying thinking “Who are you!? Where’s my Dad!?”  So they each try to one up each other.  After powering through the afternoon and getting attention from three ladies, this last encounter is just enough to push Ellie over the edge.  I put her down for a nap.  Because of all the commotion, Marcello wakes up.  He’s sitting on the couch just looking nervous as Zayna sizes him up.  Zayna doesn’t really care for boys.   She’s not a fan of me, and apparently she’s not too interested in Marcello either.  So she disses us both, but gets all smiley for Meghan and Mel. 

The afternoon winds down and everyone packs up and heads home.  Then there were none.  For a moment the house is quiet.  This is nice.  I survived my first afternoon with three babies.  I managed to make lunch, make a cake, and put my baby down for a nap…  twice! 

And then I realize this is just the beginning…

Time for another piece of cake.





DEAR REVERSE TOOTH FAIRY,

What did I ever do to you!?  I’m sick of these games you are playing.  It’s like you are dangling a raw steak in front of a dog.  You are torturing Ellie, and you are antagonizing me.  Did they not teach ethics in fairy school?  I’m not even sure you graduated from Fairy School.  Are you even certified?  Your cousin the Tooth Fairy seems to have a much more effective operation.  Not very profitable, but at least people welcome her.  You on the other hand are a disgrace to all fairies and should be disbarred from the fairy council.  Do you think just because you have an official title you can abuse your power and do whatever you want?  What is it that you want?  Your cousin gives money away.  I suppose you want some?  Are you holding Ellie’s two front teeth ransom?  What’s your price?  I’ll gladly pay it, and I’ll even chip in to get you new wings.  Meet me in the alley behind my house tomorrow at midnight.  Come alone.

P.S.  I don’t like you being in my daughter’s room at night.  Whatever you need to do, you can do it just fine during the day in the living room.

Disgruntledly,

Matt

KOKOMI'S KORNER

PORCH SITTIN'

The heat and humidity are fading and fall is approaching.  And with more tolerable weather upon us, it’s time for some good ol' fashioned porch sittin’.  This is one of my favorite things to do.  To kick back in my old man rocking chair on the porch, with a book, or some tunes, and some coffee and watch the world go by.  You might wonder how can just sittin’ on the porch be so much fun.  Well, with the crazy cast of characters on my street, there is never a dull moment.  

Ellie and I settle in our places.  Me on my chair, and her in her little spaceship jungle gym.  The sun is out, the air is breezy, and we wait for the show to begin.  We hear a lawn mower start up.  It looks like Skippy is out mowing the lawn.  There is nothing better than to see him and his balding ponytail, his obscenely white beer belly in cut-off jean shorts, and his yellow crocs.  YELLOW CROCS!  What a treat, I tell Ellie.  It’s gonna be a good sit.  I can feel it.

We look to the left and here comes Captian Heavy Metal walking home from the corner store with his diet Pepsi and bag of chips.  He’s in full costume, too!  He wears aviator sunglasses, has highlights in his mullet, a faded Pantera tour shirt, jean shorts, and old school high tops.  Laces untied, which is a look I sport myself many times.  He enjoys listening to heavy metal while sitting in the dark with his black light on.  You see a purple glow from his window accompanied with the angelic sounds of Iron Maiden and Ratt.  But since he has a girlfriend now, the loud late night rock sessions are fewer, and he’s been playing things a little softer these days.  A few days ago I heard Van Halen’s Beautiful Girls blaring from his window.  Ahhh, to be in love. 

Next we see a kid walking down the street in his socks, holding his shoes in his hands.  Now those must be some extra fancy shoes if they are too nice for the sidewalk.  I wonder if they are his shoes?  Or someone else’s, maybe they are too small, or too big?  My guess is that this kid bought new shoes, but couldn’t decide if he liked them.  So he walks them over to his friend’s house to get his opinion before pulling the trigger.

Now the Professor zooms by on his Moped.  I call him the Professor because he looks like your stereotypical college professor.  He has grayish-white hair, ALWAYS has a pipe in his mouth, a beard, and he usually has a tweed jacket with leather elbow patches no matter what time of year.  What makes the Prof even more peculiar is that he has multiple colored Mopeds.  I’ve confirmed he has at least three; red, white, and gray.  I always see him on his way home about 3:30pm.  I’ve always been curious where he’s returning from.  Maybe one day I’ll find out.

I wonder if people notice me and Ellie on the porch.  Are we characters of the porch sittin’ scene on my street too?  I feel like we are just wallflowers that go undetected.  We are just silent observers.  And then I realize it’s 3:30 in the afternoon, I’m on the porch wearing my pajama pants and a Van Halen T-shirt I’ve had on for at least two days, surfing the net on a pink laptop, while blasting AC/DC... with a baby at my side...

We went inside.

THUMP THUMP

http://archives.cnn.com/2002/HEALTH/conditions/04/24/heart.role.reversal/

So I just read this article that says that stay-at-home dads are 82 percent more likely to die from heart disease than dads that work outside the home.  This makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. 

Thump thump…  thump thump…

Why is this?  It must be a genetic difference.  There must be something wired into a woman’s DNA that makes them less prone to the effects of prolonged crying.  I know no one loves the sound of a crying baby.  But some have a higher threshold for it.  My wife can handle it.  She can hold Ellie while she is crying and kicking and try to soothe her while she cries.  She knows she is doing all she can and that it’s normal for babies to cry.  It’s not that she doesn’t care.  She accepts it.  She can be in the car with Ellie crying and screaming in the backseat and be ok.  She’ll just sing to her to calm her down and she knows that Ellie is really okay and that everything will be alright.  Of course she doesn’t like it, but she accepts the situation and the cries roll off of her like water on plastic. 

Thump thump…  thump thump…

I, on the other hand, have a low threshold for it.  I was driving home the other day.  I was about an hour away.  I knew that Ellie was fed, had a clean diaper, and should be ready for a nap.  It was a perfect situation.  The car ride would just put her out for a nap.  WRONG.  After about 5 minutes, Ellie decided she didn’t want to be in the car or the car seat anymore.  So she cried full force the whole way home.  I tried singing all her favorite songs, reaching back to pat her head, to let her chew on my finger, to let her know she’s not the only one in the car.  I’m normally very good at getting her to stop crying.  So when I can’t soothe her, I take it personally.  It’s like I have failed.  Or I think there must be something really wrong even though deep down, I know there isn’t.  I can’t help it.  I don’t have the magical DNA that repels cries.  So when I got home, after enduring an hour of a crying baby in the car, I felt like someone had repeatedly punched me in the face, and that my heart was going to explode.  My senses were sharpened.  Every little noise sounded like a jack hammer in my head.   Once I got her out of the car seat and held her, she immediately stopped crying and smiled.  We went inside and she started playing like nothing ever happened.  I wasn't able to easily forget that torturous experience in the car and I remained shaken and jumpy for the rest of the afternoon.  She looks up at me saying, “what? You’re still worked about that!?  Let it go Pop, now give me a zerburt.”

Thump thump…  thump thump…

I can’t help it.  Her cry is like lighting, and my head is like a lightning rod.  The first couple cries don’t really hit me.  But then she throws a really strong one and it hits me hard.  I feel the electricity in my brain first.  Then it travels down my body, through my heart, then into my feet.  My feet start jostling around, up and down, and they involuntarily carry my body to wherever the sound is coming from.  This is even when my wife or my mom is with her and comforting her.  This electricity sends me to the scene.  It’s instinctual.  I must stop her from crying.  I know I need to let it go.  I know I need to develop a thick skin.  But since I don’t have this gene, maybe I should stick to eating a heart smart diet for now.  God save me when she’s a teenager…

Thump thump…  thump thump

THE SH*TUATION

...and there I was, standing with crap on both hands, not knowing what to do and unable to move…

When I put Ellie down for her afternoon nap, I knew it wasn’t going to last very long. She hadn’t taken a dump all day and I knew it was a matter of time before we had a Mt. Saint Helens situation on our “hands.” Sure enough, after about 20 minutes, I hear her squirming around and whining through the monitor. Her whining started to get louder and more frequent. When I finally went into her room, I knew something had occurred. I picked her up and she wailed, and squirmed… and stunk.

Thinking that this would be a typical diaper change, and one full of her “efforts,” I was prepared.

Or so I thought…

I carried her to the changing table to lay her down. I knew right away this was going to be a tricky situation. She was wailing, squirming, not being still at all. I tried to bribe her with a toy. She threw it as if saying “I have a major BM in my pants and you give me a toy!? You idiot! Get the sponge, do something!” As I opened her diaper I saw steam and I think I heard a shriek. Like in the Amityville Horror movie when that voice says “GET OUT!” But this didn’t say “get out,” it said “GOOD LUCK!” There was a mountain of debris in there. It was big, it was mean, and it was green. I panicked. I just stood there for a moment shocked at what I saw. She kept kicking and squirming. I only have two hands, how should I handle this situation!? I held her legs up with one hand, and went to grab the wipes with my free hand. But when I did this, not one, but both of her hands grabbed her poop covered butt. I went to grab her poop smeared fingers, but she kicked her feet free. Her feet landed where!? Inside the poop filled diaper of course. So then her feet and her hands were poopy. I managed to grab one of her hands, which consequently got my hands smeared too. My other free hand had the wipes in it. But what about her feet? There was too much poop, and it was getting in too many places! I had to let go of the wipes, and there I was, standing with crap on both hands, not knowing what to do and unable to move. I had to be aggressive, and I had to act quickly. I grabbed her hands and feet with one hand, and with my other poop smeared hand, I grabbed the wipes and bulldozed the major structures away. Then, with my fingertips, I moved the offending diaper away and put a fresh one in its place. Then with a fresh wipe, I wiped her feet clean and let go. Ellie must have thought this to be amusing, because she stopped kicking and squirming, and started giggling… at me. Little by little, I was able to clean up the situation and myself. As if that wasn't enough, I still had another job to go finish. I needed to grab the sh*t stick and go kerblunking.

Now, when I hear someone say, “I’ve had a really crappy day,” it has a whole new meaning to me.

KOKOMI'S KORNER

Ellie at the Park

WHO AM I?

Have you ever felt lost? Have you ever sat and stared out the window on a rainy day lost in thought. Or looked at your reflection in a puddle wondering, “who am I?”

I’ve been doing the stay-at-home dad gig for about 4 months now. And to be honest, with the risk of sounding over confident, I’m awesome at it. The house is clean, there is a healthy meal on the table every night, diapers are changed, the baby is happy, fed, and read to. But the longer I’m at home, the more and more I feel like a mom. And the more I ask myself, “who am I?”

For example, my wife has the Oprah 20 year anniversary dvd collection. I VOLUNTARILY watched one of the dvds the other day. Oprah! I watched OPRAH all by myself. Why did I do this? I have no idea! It's not like I came across it while channel surfing and left it on. I put in the dvd and watched the WHOLE thing! Who am I?

I’ve also started eating mass amounts of chocolate. I’m not a chocolate guy. I like it, but I don’t crave it. I prefer it more on the occasional brownie, or peanut butter Twix. But a few weeks ago, I almost ate two bags of Ghirardelli chocolates in two days! My wife had to take the rest to work because I was raiding her stash. Once those were gone, I found a bag of Hersey kisses and just about devoured those. The remnants were taken away as well. Now we have ice cream in the freezer. You guessed it. Chocolate, chocolate, chocolate! Topped with chocolate syrup! Who am I?

With all the extra chocolate and ice cream I’ve been eating, I’ve been worried about my weight, too. I have certain T-shirts or pants I wear on days I’m feeling fat. Some call them fat pants. These days are usually after I went on a bender the night before. Ice cream, chips, chocolate, whatever I could find. And yes, I said fat pants! Deal with it! My body image is topsy-turvy right now. What can I say? My emotions are all over the place right now and my best friends are Ben and Jerry. Who am I?

I’ve also been having trouble relating to guys and guy things. I’ve never been a guy’s guy, but it even worse now. We had a group of people over the other day for dinner. There I was on the porch, having a beer talking to the guys about horror movies. Yeah, I’m doing this. I’m a guy. I still got it! I was only able to do this after I baked the chicken, prepared the zuchinni and put Ellie down for her nap. But still, guys, beer, horror movies. I’m feeling good about this. Then they bring out their new Ipad. They are all excited talking about apps and games and gigabytes. My eyes glaze over and I couldn’t help but feel like I’d rather be in the kitchen talking about babies and weddings with the ladies. Who am I?

My mom has Ellie for the day today. I think I NEED to go grill a steak and watch Die Hard…

On second thought, maybe I’ll just put on my fat pants, get out the chocolate ice cream, park myself on the couch, and watch Oprah.

GOT PEA!

It took time.

It took patience.

It took perseverance.

It took dedication.

It took manipulation.

It took down right sneakery…

Ellie is now eating her green beans AND peas without adding any additional sweeteners of any kind. No bananas, no peaches, no pears…

It’s what I do.

SQUEAK SQUEAK

We live in an old squeaky house. The floors squeak, the stairs squeak, the doors squeak, even the door knobs squeak. It’s just a squeaky house. I never knew how squeaky it was until we had a sleeping baby in the house. So I’ve made myself an expert at knowing where all the squeaky spots are and how to avoid them. I need to skip certain steps, and tip-toe over others. Now I can maneuver through my house without making a sound as if I were a ninja or a hired assassin. I’m even a master at closing the doors without making any noise. Since I put so much effort in keeping a quiet house when my kid is sleeping, is it too much to ask that the rest of my neighborhood does, too?

Since the weather has finally cooled off a little bit, I’ve been able to open the windows and get some fresh air again. It’s a pretty quiet morning, a soft cool breeze flows through the house. You can hear an occasional car in the distance or a cute petite bird chirping. It is truly peaceful outside. But as soon as Ellie falls asleep in her crib… CHOOO CHOOO! A train comes rattling through! I fly upstairs Matrix style to see is she wakes up. Luckily, she seems okay. That was close. SQUAWK! SQUAWK! What happened to the cute birds!? It sounds like a flock of hawks are circling my house. Now what’s this!? The street cleaner machine!? I’ve never, ever, seen the street cleaner guy come anywhere near the house. Now the neighbor’s dogs are barking. I HATE those dogs. These aren’t just normal barking dogs either. It’s sounds like the neighbors are hosting a dog fighting championship in their backyard. The things I would give to be rid of those dogs. What I think about doing to those dogs is too despicable to even mention. Just when I think it’s over, at least 10 people decide to cut their grass right at the same time! Now you’re probably thinking, “idiot! Why don’t you just shut the window in Ellie’s room?” This is a good idea, but I’m still in training on how to pull off such a maneuver without waking her up. I am a ninja, but only an entry level one. Before Ellie wakes up, three more trains go by, a freighter on the river blows its whistle, a group of door-to-door evangelists rings the door bell and starts quoting Bible verses, and a pack of noisy kids walks in front of the house. I’m staring at the baby monitor watching the red lights flicker up and down. My heart is racing. My nerves are on edge. I’ve been pacing around the house, drinking coffee, and cussing under my breath at all the noise makers. Will this be a real nap?  or with this be a 20 minute fake out? 

Finally, all the chaos and noise subsides and Ellie peacefully wakes up. I walk in the room and she flashes her big smile. She looks happy and well rested. We come downstairs and she sits in front of the door. She crawls towards the screen and looks back at me with a look that says “did I miss anything?”

KOKOMI'S KORNER

Ellie vs. the Stairs...

Can we go upstairs?

See, I can do it.

Woah...  That's a lot of stairs...

But I can do it!

ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS IS...

my two front teeth… wishes Ellie. And Christmas couldn’t come soon enough this year!

Teething. It’s a crazy thing. Who would have thought that these little bumps that pop through their gums would cause so much pain. It’s like a rite of passage in becoming a toddler. I guess they call them growing pains for a reason. Every kid handles their pain differently, too. Some kids scream and cry non-stop. Some whine all day long. Some don’t sleep and some don’t eat. Either way, they all have to experience it.

I looked up teething symptoms just to see what the “experts” say. This is what I could find: “drooling, gum swelling, irritability, biting behavior, refusing food, and sleep problems.” These are all pretty straight forward except for “sleep problems.” Sleep problems? What the hell does that actually mean? They should rephrase this to “temporary insanity!” I mean, Ellie is having “sleep problems,” but more specifically, she has gone temporarily insane! You can see it in her eyes, too. You can see that “normal” Ellie has checked out, and “teething” Ellie has checked in.

For example: The other night, Ellie was fine playing on the floor around bedtime. At about 8:00pm my wife gives her the bath, and nurses her. She passes out during nursing, but as soon as goes to put her in the crib, Ellie starts bawling, screaming, scratching her head, her neck, her ears. It’s like she’s got the “itch.” Nothing calms her down. I come up to try the Dad touch. Nothing helps. So just for a try, we bring her in to the bathroom by the mirror. As soon as she sees herself, she quiets down and SMILES! Now that’s vanity. The only thing can soothe her, is herself. “Who is that smilin’ hottie lookin’ back at me!?” We try to bring her back in the room. As soon as we cross the threshold into her room, she starts screaming again. I walk in the hallway and she quiets down. I walk back in her room and she starts screaming. Is her room haunted? Or is it the teething gnomes? Do they come out at night and chisel away at her gums? It’s possible, right? They are like the reverse Tooth Fairy, but they don’t leave any money! After two hours of Operation Sleeping Ellie, we decide to pull the plug because it is going nowhere. To avoid the gnomes, we all go downstairs at about 10:00pm. Once we are downstairs, she PLAYS! But you can tell she’s not all there. Her pupils are dilated. She seems like she’s had two pots of coffee and eight bags of Skittles. She’s crawling over here, and crawling over there. “What’s this? What’s that? Who are you? You’re funny! I’m upset… hahaha just kidding! Oh look, a bird!” Finally, about midnight, my wife nurses again. Ellie passes out without a fight. We think this will last till morning. It has before, why not tonight? I mean, Ellie always follows a pattern, right? Of course she does… At 1:00am I hear this screaming in my head… Then I realize this screaming is real... Is it morning already? It’s only been an hour!? Efffff… My Dad had told me that his grandmother had put whiskey on his gums when he was teething. There comes a time when you feel so desperate that you are willing to give the absurd a try. At that moment, I start to wonder if we have any whiskey in the house. And If I don’t use it on her, maybe a little for me won’t hurt. Luckily, the screaming pushed those thoughts away from my head and no whiskey was consumed by anybody. And at 3:30am, we all fell fast asleep just to wake up fresh as a daisy at 6:30am ready to tackle the day.

So why can’t these “experts” just tell the truth? “You’re just sh*t outta luck til Christmas.”