My Toddler Knows “No’s” and “Nose”

14 May

In the ongoing attempt to make my child the smartest and cutest kid on the face of the planet, my wife and I have been working on many developmental skills such as speech from a very early age.  We taught him baby sign language when he was first born so he could communicate with us and we could cut down his frustration, now he learns a few new words per day!  While he’s not quite ready to invent time travel or discuss the meaning of life he can easily tell you where his nose is…and say “nose” at the same time.  That’s like patting your head and saying “Patting my head” at the same time…wait…or are you supposed to be rubbing your belly?  Whatever…the kid is 15 months.  He’s doing good.  His go to words include:

  • Nose
  • Ear
  • Eyes
  • Mouth
  • Teeth
  • Toes
  • Feet
  • Shoes
  • Socks
  • Shirt
  • Eat
  • More
  • Up
  • Down
  • Please
  • Hi
  • Eggs
  • Yogurt
  • Fish
  • Cracker
  • Cheese
  • Juice
  • Milk
  • Cat
  • Momma
  • Dada
  • Papa
  • Gigi (Grandma)
  • A-Choo!
  • Basketball
  • Baseball
  • Shoot
  • Score
  • Goal
  • Wu (WSU Mascot)
  • Shocker (WSU)
  • Chiefs
  • Stairs
  • Sit (He adds an “sh” so it sounds a little different)
  • Poo-poo
  • Pee-pee
  • Potty
  • Night, night
  • Bye, bye
  • Hi
  • Thank you

…and a bunch more.  Wow.  I think we are past the point where I can list out the things he says/knows.  There is one word not on that list…for it is his favorite word of all time…even more than “Basketball.”  What is it?  ”No.”  I am so sick of hearing the word “No.”  Mainly because he doesn’t just say it, he says it with this annoying tone while shaking his head and pushing away whatever he is saying “no” to.

ME:  Max you want some steak?

MAX:  No!

ME:  Okay…you want some juice?

MAX:  No!

ME:  Would you like some…

MAX:  NOOOOO!

Little bastard.  Adorable little bastard, but little bastard nonetheless.  I’ve taught him to shoot a basketball, safely go up and down stairs, clap his hands, and he is learning to use a potty…but we can’t say “No thank you.”  He can say “Thank you,” and he can say “No,” but “No thank you” is beyond his comprehension.  He’s a two syllable only kid.  Anything more than two syllables and it is quantum physics for him…he just stares at you…then points to his nose and says “nose” like he’s Jimmy Durante or something.  ”The nose knows, it always knows!”  The only happiness I have right now in teaching him words is the potty, because what do you do with a potty?  You sit.  And how does my son say “sit?”  He adds an “sh” to it.

ME:  Max, do you need to sit on the potty?

MAX:  Shit.

ME:  Okay, let’s sit on the potty.  What are you doing?

MAX:  Shitting.

ME:  That’s right buddy.  You’re going poo-poo?

MAX:  No!

We’ve still got to work on that one…but we’re making progress.

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Baby Talking Adults

9 May

Before Max was born I made a slew of promises to myself and my wife about the parents we would be.  Like all parents before children I was a damn idiot.  You will have the child that melts down at the grocery store and you will be the parent that deals with it in a way a childless couple finds atrocious.  “When we have kids we’ll treat our children with respect and teach them how to behave in public through mutual understanding!”  Sure you will!  Have fun teaching cats to tap dance while you’re at it.  One of my promises was that I wouldn’t talk to my son like a baby and I would never call my wife “Mommy” when we were alone.  Wrong.

While I don’t do the shmoopy-poopy talk with Max I certainly go up a few octaves and talk differently with him.  Something about all that cuteness just pulls it out of you like some alien language that has been laying dormant in your brain for your entire life.  However the worst crime is how my wife and I talk to each other now:

Me: “Once Max is asleep…wanna watch a movie?”

Kate: “Ugh.  Mommy is pretty tired.”

Me:  “Dada is too.  Wanna go night night?”

Kate:  “Night night…”

Me:  “Yeah…lets go night night.”

What the heck is that crap?!!!  (A.) When did I become “Dada” and not Ryan…and (B.) when did I start referring to this new name in the third person?  We’re gonna turn Max into a tiny Bob Dole.  “Bob Dole wants to go night night.  Bob Dole is ti ti.  Bob Dole.  Bob Doooooole!!!”  My name is Ryan.  My wife’s name is Kate.  My name is Ryan.  My wife’s name is Kate.  My name is…

Max:  “Dada?”

Me:  “Hey buddy!  Yeah!  Its Dada!”

Max:  “Wuv woo.”

Me:  “Love you too buddy.”

Max:  “Dada?”

Me:  “Yeah Max?”

Max:  “Night night…”

Me:  “Okay, lets go upstairs for splash splash, a few books, and night night…”

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So Long Maurice Sendak

8 May

Today, Maurice Sendak passed away at the age of 83.  His book “Where The Wild Things Are” was a massive influence on my life as I am sure it was for many of you.  It is no coincidence that my son’s name is Max…he is my little wild thing.  We brought him home from the hospital in a white wolf suit, he had his own homemade knitted crown, and he is the king of all wild things in our house…which is mostly a fat old cat.  Tonight, make sure you read to your little ones about forests growing in their rooms and sailing through night and day and in and out of weeks and almost over a year to where the wild things are.  Let’s encourage our children to always use their imaginations and remind them that no matter what happens we will always be there for them, supper waiting…and still hot.  If you don’t have the book…

“The night Max wore his wolf suit and made mischief of one kind and another. His mother called him “WILD THING!” and Max said “I’LL EAT YOU UP!” so he was sent to bed without eating anything. That very night in Max’s room a forest grew and grew- and grew until his ceiling hung with vines and the walls became the world all around and an ocean tumbled by with a private boat for Max and he sailed off through night and day and in and out of weeks and almost over a year to where the wild things are.  And when he came to the place where the wild things are they roared their terrible roars and gnashed their terrible teeth and rolled their terrible eyes and showed their terrible claws- till Max said “BE STILL!” and tamed them with a magic trick of staring into their yellow eyes without blinking once and they were frightened and called him the most wild thing of all and made him king of all wild things. “And now,” cried Max, “let the wild rumpus start!”

“Now stop!” Max said and sent the wild things off to bed without their supper. And Max the king of all wild things was lonely and wanted to be where someone loved him best of all. Then all around from far away across the world he smelled good things to eat so he gave up being king of where the wild things are. But the wild things cried, “Oh please don’t go- we’ll eat you up- we love you so!” And Max said, “No!” The wild things roared their terrible roars and gnashed their terrible teeth and rolled theur terrible eyes and showed their terrible claws but Max stepped into his private boat and waved good-bye and sailed back over a year and in and out of weeks and through a day and into the night of his very own room where he found his supper waiting for him- and it was still hot.”

The hat my Max wore home from the hospital when he was born.

Want your own crown like my Max?  Check out Sweet Treats Shop on Facebook and tell them that Ryan from So Long Freedom sent you.

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My Toddler Loves Basketball

26 Apr

Max Meets Wu

“Bask-ball!  Bask-ball!  Bask-ball!!!”  My 15-month-old cried out.  ”Yes…yes that is a word…basketball,” I responded through my raspy morning voice as I struggled to see what ungodly hour of the morning it was that my son was slapping me in the face while shouting his favorite word.  ”Bask-ball!  Bask-ball!  Bask-ball!!!”  My 15-month-old broken record continued.  ”Yes Max, the basketball is downstairs,” I said as I wearily emerged from my slumber and stumbled down the upstairs hallway.  Even the rushing sound of water in the shower couldn’t drone out the words of the tiny being that was walking up and down the hall…”Bask-ball!  Bask-ball!  Bask-ball!!!”  Oh God…I’ve created a monster.

Like all parents I am obsessed with my child’s progress and am convinced he is the smartest being on the planet.  In all seriousness though…his motor skills are insane.  He was born holding his own head up, he crawled and stood the same day at 4 months, started walking at 7 months, and now has the motor skill capacity of a 2-year-old.  Yogurt is eaten with a spoon, door knobs are easily opened, soda bottle caps are unscrewed and screwed on, stairs are a welcomed challenge, and nothing is more fun than basketball.  ”Bask-ball!”  Sorry…bask-ball…we can only talk in two-syllable words at this point.

Max easily holds a full-size basketball and then has three different options he must decide on from there….

  1. Pass the ball – which he does if you ask
  2. Dribble the ball – which involves slapping it a few times
  3. Shoot the ball – which truly is a shot

Shooting is his favorite.  ”Shoooot!”  He calls to me and waits under the basket so I can lift him up to the rim.  Once at the rim he does not want to dunk…no…too easy…he wants to shoot.  ”Shoooot!”  Sorry…shoooot.  He rarely misses and all made shots are followed with clapping hands, fists of victory, and shouts of “Goooooaaal!!!”  Misses are greeted with “Uh-oh” and a do over is required.

This morning Max was waiting by the front door, basketball in hand, ready to play “Bask-ball!”  This is no longer a word that he is using to define something…it is a word that defines something he wants to do right now.  ”Bask-ball!”  So my commute started today as it had ended yesterday; with a little father-son basketball.  ”Bask-ball!”  Right, bask-ball.  It makes sense if you think about it, we took him with us to the NIT finals in NYC when the WSU Shockers won the title…Max was only a few weeks old.  He went to almost every home game this season, watches the away games on the TV, and when he is inconsolable we flip on SportsCenter to calm him down…because he is obsessed with basketba…  Sorry.  Bask-ball.

“Bask-ball!  ”Bask-ball Dada!  Bask-ball!!!”  I’ve created a monster.  An adorable monster…but a monster nonetheless.

Celebrating the Shockers NIT Title after the game with my dad Bud, coach Gregg, wife Kate, and son Max.

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All American Homecoming

25 Apr

Max's Snackatorium

Over 2 years ago I began blogging about the prospect of fatherhood as my son Max (then nicknamed “Zig”) was nothing more than a tadpole in my Wife’s belly.  We had just moved to Wichita, KS from our digitally nomadic life in the Adirondacks and I was adjusting to corporate life, the Midwest, and the end of diaper-free days…”So Long Freedom!”  One of the main inspirations for me to start writing was the lack of information for fathers-to-be.  Everything I read talked to me as if I was an emotionally stunted being who needed simple words and step-by-step processes to fathom the idea of becoming a parent.  Statistically I found that most women begin their journey of motherhood the moment they learn they are pregnant while a father’s journey tends to emotionally begin at the moment of birth.  This is because most women conceptualize the idea of giving birth, have an intimate experience as the child grows inside them, and thus spend their time wondering what the baby will look like in the days after their birth.  Fathers however, tend to picture their child at a later age when they can have interactions like throwing a baseball in the yard or teaching the child how to ride a bike.  I refused to let my journey begin so late into my child’s life so I began blogging about my experience to all of you.  Today, as my son is turning 15 months old, I understand why Dad’s envision their babies-to-be at older ages.

If you’ve been reading the blog throughout this journey you’ve probably figured out I’ve had trouble with the adjustment to the sound of crying in my house…especially at night.  Teeth, constipation, colds, bruises, shots, and more have all lead to the constant inevitable…crying.  ”So Long Sleep” should be the name of my blog.  Like all things there are ups and downs in parenting, and after surviving the ebb of my patience while his last molar tooth came in – we are now in the flow of good father-son time as his teeth have almost all pushed through.  The other day I experienced the most All American Homecoming to my family I can imagine…and it was awesome.

I had been on the road for a week in Richmond, VA for business when I got back to Wichita.  The following Monday I was thrown back into the fire of marketing as I sifted through thousands of pages of demographics and maps as I planned my media distribution for the balance of the year.  At the same time I was on the phone planning the next store grand opening I am leaving for next week…and of course doing my regular daily duties of my job.  My head was spinning.  The one thing that clears my head is often driving and I was excited to saddle up in my car (though it is almost completely broken down) and make my drive home while rocking out to the radio.  Of course the phone rang…business call.  I talked the whole way home and then found myself parked in the driveway as I wrapped up my call.  Then it happened.

The front door opened and out came my son Max.  He cautiously made his way down the front steps and called out “Dada, Dada, Dada!”  My wife Kate followed behind with snacks and it was clear…I needed to get off the phone which my phone caller graciously allowed me to do.  I got out of my car as Max ran into my arms and threw a great big hug around my neck…one of his new skills I adore and truly live for.  I picked him up so I could hug him back and kiss my wife in the driveway of our house we own that is surrounded by the well manicured lawn I mowed on Sunday with a PBR in hand.  ”Bask-ball!”  Max cried out with excitement, “Bask-ball!”  We know this word well…it is his favorite…”Basketball.”  I retrieved the basketball from the garage and we proceeded to play.  I dribble around Max a few times (who is a terrible defender) and shoot at the lowered 7′ hoop from point-blank range and make an easy basket.  Max and I then run in circles and shout “Goooooaaaaal!!!!”  Then I hold the ball out to him, he grabs it with two hands, I lift him up above the rim, he shoots, he scores, we run in circles, we shout, “Gooooooaaaal!!!!”  Repeat.  Repeat.  Repeat…and pray it never stops and he never grows up to be a teenager that hates me.

It’s easy to see why Dads think of days like this…its the best I’ve ever felt as a dad.  Playing basketball in the driveway with my boy.  My boy!  Then he pooped.  ”Kate?!!!”

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Toddlers and Tornadoes

17 Apr

Last week I was on the road for work (as I often am) and found myself as homesick as ever thinking about my wife and 14-month-old son back in Wichita.  By the morning of Saturday April 14th, I had been in Richmond, VA for a week and was very ready to fly home the following morning.  I had no idea of the impending doom swirling towards my new home of Wichita, KS.  Tornadoes.

Everywhere I’ve lived has had its own threats; in New York City I witnessed 9-11 first hand, sweated it out through the blackout, and hunkered down through a few hurricanes.  In California we had our share of earthquakes, mudslides, and wild fires.  Now in Wichita we have returned to the threat I grew up with: Tornadoes.  Tornadoes are unpredictable and vigilantly destructive…death from above.  I’ve seen cars get wrapped around telephone polls, flying semi trucks, blades of grass pierce glass windows, and entire houses get tossed aside as if they were made of cardboard.  A tornado can obliterate your neighbor’s house and skip yours without harming a shingle on your roof.  They can swirl down from the sky suddenly or dissipate into the clouds without reason.  They are scary, though like anything you become complacent to them after experiencing them enough times…until one makes a bee line for your wife and son while you are half a continent away.  Then they are the scariest thing on earth.

At 8 PM on Saturday I was with my fellow co-workers toasting a successful day and telling war stories from our past events.  Pizzas were consumed, scotches were cheers’d, and feet were kicked up…it was a good day.  Then the text came to my phone from the emergency alert system I subscribe to:

“TORNADO WARNING IN EFFECT FOR SEDWICK COUNTY UNTIL 04/14/2012 22:15 BTYB SUNFLOWER BANK”

While I have seen alerts like this many times it is slightly unnerving when you are not there to be with your family.  I called Kate who was as relaxed as can be which was good for my nerves.  ”They’ve been talking about this storm all week and its been on the news everywhere the whole day telling people to be prepared for tonight.”  Kate had brought all the patio furniture in, setup the pack and play in the basement for Max to sleep in, and set aside a few emergency items downstairs as well.  One of the key reasons I bought this house was the fact that the main level has 2 steel beams supporting the house as well as a full cement foundation and massive interior brick fireplace.  Meaning?  The basement is a great tornado shelter.  Kate is one of the most resourceful people I know…the kind that can solve any problem she is faced with on her own.  She had Max’s bike helmet to protect his head from flying debris and his backpack carrying case so she should strap him to her body if need be.  I never thought we’d need any of these things but she was right to prepare.

I flipped on the Weather Channel in Richmond and found that Wichita was getting national coverage as the storm headed towards my city.  The tornado was just hitting Conway Springs as I watched this and was on a path for the west side of Wichita.  I realized my dad was scheduled to be landing in Wichita from Atlanta at this time so I called him to see where he was – I assumed rerouted to Dallas.  He had somehow just landed in Wichita on what sounded like the scariest landing of all time that included a wind gust that pushed the plane completely sideways at a 90 degree angle just above the ground!  (Read story HERE)  They had landed only to find the entire ground crew had taken cover in the shelter – they were stuck on the plane.  After 10 minutes they finally were able to get off the plane and head for cover.  My dad hopped into the car to head east just as the National Weather service announced the tornado was on a path for the Wichita airport and would arrive in 8 minutes.  He described to me what he was seeing and what was headed his way which quickly raised my dad threat level to orange, I was becoming very nervous for my family.

I called back to Kate and updated her on my dad.  She told me she had moved to the basement and was debating taking Max out of the pack and play and into the shelter she had made of pillows and tables.  At that point the power went out and I lost communication with my family.  Text messages were our only means of communication and they were sporadic in their timing.  The tornado hit the airport.  My dad had escaped it by maybe 5 minutes and was racing it down the highway.  The tornado hit the south side of Wichita and as it entered the city limits the details as to where it was became cloudy as all storm chasers and reporters were under ground saving their lives.  The Topeka office took over reporting and I watched in horror as the path of the storm curled north and east on a direct line for my house.  One of my co-workers asked where my house was in Wichita.  At that exact moment the Weather Channel put up a map with an arrow that showed the path of the F-3 tornado…the end of the arrow lay directly on top of my house.  ”Right there I said,” as I pointed to the arrow, “…that’s where my house is.”  I tried calling Kate…home phone rang and rang.  Tried her cell…straight to voicemail.  I texted her, “Heading directly for you!”  I then got a few texts back from Kate as I watched the storm head straight for my house, my wife, and my son.”

Hail picking up!

Emergency alert says “complete devastation of some neighborhoods likely!”

Power must be out, no more sound from TV upstairs.

Then, just as it was about to come barreling into my neighborhood it made a turn to the east.  I started to breathe a sigh of relief…it was almost passed.  Kate then texted me again,

K. Really quiet…Just hear a distant rumble & Max breathing.

I tried calling Kate but no calls would go through.

Power still out.  No word from your mom yet. Can hear sirens from police/ambulance cars.

Kate and Max in the Tornado Fort after the storm passed

Then I got this terrible feeling like everything in the room went cold.  Deja Vu.  It was like watching the 1991 Andover tornado all over again…it was the exact same path!  In 1991 I lived in Andover and can still remember the devastation from the F-5 that tore apart our town and killed over 20 people.  It was creepy and horrifying watching this tornado take the same path.  Though my house in College Hill was safe from this tornado – the house I grew up in (where my parents still live) was now directly in the path of destruction.  The weather channel reported a sighting at Kellogg and K-96, only an 1/8th of a mile from my parents.  I called them and was able to get to my dad via an old rotary phone in the basement…he and my mother were fine but the tornado was bearing down directly over them.  Then…it was over.

The tornado had dissipated down to an F-1 and caused only minimal damage to their house and trees.  It pushed northeast.  The rain stopped.  All was quiet on the western front again.

Damage to Parent's House

Upon returning home, Wichita was fine though some neighborhoods, businesses, and the airforce base had taken direct hits and sustained serious damage.  Flooding was the biggest issue but a sunny Sunday helped quickly resolve that problem.  My family greeted me at the airport and I have never been so glad to be home.  Having lived through many tornadoes I had become complacent to their damage…but this reminded me of their unpredictable nature and how deadly they can be.  They are raw potential for destruction and my house and family were spared…this time.  From now on I will have a tornado kit in the basement at all times during tornado season.  I live in Wichita, KS…Tornado Alley.  We must be prepared – for it is always better to have something and not need it than to need something and not have it.

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My Immaculate Wife

3 Apr

The past few weeks have been rough in the Gates household:  Launching, planning, and fund raising for *asterICT; Kate finishing the paintings for her show; me planning two events that are taking me out of town; water in the basement; car breaking down; and of course…Max cutting a molar and subsequently making life a living hell for us and robbing us of sleep, sanity, and personal space.  Other than that its been great!  Today, however, I caught a glimpse of the summit and it came by way of my wife’s upcoming gallery show.

One of the many reasons we moved to Wichita was lifestyle:  The opportunity to live the good life.  Here we have been able to have a child, buy a home, and experience life fuller than in previous times.  Kate is an accomplished artist and the move to Wichita came with the promise of a larger work studio, more time to paint, and no longer needing both of us to work a 9-5.  All have come true and from it have come a plethora of shows, publications, interviews, and events for Kate.  This week…the whirlwind begins.

Tomorrow Kate is speaking at a private event to kick off the whirlwind weekend of art.  The following morning our *asterICT performers Jennifer Beattie and Adam Marks arrive at the airport.  Friday my sister arrives from NY along with her son, the *asterICT performance is that night, and the evening is capped off with the opening reception to Kate’s new show “Immaculate Canvas.”  Saturday the *asterICT performers bid Wichita adieu and the activity-filled holiday weekend begins with lunches, Easter Egg Hunts, and museums filling most of the day.  Then, Sunday, we take a deep breath.  Kate and I spend a little time together and clink wine glasses while Max is asleep upstairs…then I pack, and Monday I leave on business for a week.

Somewhere in all of that I need to sell my broken car and buy a not so broken car.  Of course we’re both stressed about finances now…can we really afford to buy a new car or should we just keep mine running till it dies?  Every night this week has had us working on projects to fix the house or prepare for Kate’s show.  Sunday I did a full demo of the basement wall’s built-in cabinets that were causing problems, assembled/rivoted new shelving units, and reorganized all our storage.  Last night I was in the garage with Kate building floating shelves for her opening that needed to be hung today before an event later tonight.  So over my lunch hour I was at the gallery hanging these custom shelves I built…and they hung exactly to plan…which made me feel a little better.  As I loaded my tools into the car Kate said, “You look like a guy that feels accomplished.”  I said I was stressed.  She pointed out that I was “walking with a swagger.”  I explained this had nothing to do with perfectly building floating shelves but was in fact my “natural swagger.”  I hopped in my loaner car and drove off…feeling very accomplished…with a swagger.

Back at my office I went face-deep in a Dairy Queen burger I’m sure I’ll regret later.  As I shame-scarfed, I finally got a chance to read the latest edition of NakedCity Magazine which feature’s Kate’s paintings on the cover as well as an article by Lindsey Herkommer.  It brought a calm to everything around me.  Everything simplified.  I suddenly remembered why we lived in Wichita and how good everything is.  Everything was in its place.

“As she (Kate) feels out each canvas, they develop their own personality with charms and quirks that only an individual can exude.  No two of her paintings look alike.  She creates in a microcosm of reality where actions put out into the universe cannot be undone.  Therefore, there are no mistakes on her canvases, perhaps making them immaculate after all.” -Lindsey Herkommer

Lindsey Herkommer gets it.  Right here in Wichita, KS…she gets it and she laid it out gorgeously in her article which I strongly encourage you to read in its entirety HERE.  So often people look at work like Kate’s and say things like “I don’t get it…my 5 year old could do this.”  Yes he/she could but could they conceptualize it?  Most importantly…did they do it?  I could splatter paint all over a large canvas…does that make me Jackson Pollock?  No, because I didn’t conceptualize it nor did I create it.  Kate is doing things in painting outside of what has come before, she is creating something new, she is progressing the art of painting, she is…amazing.  She is painting commentaries on painting.

Having this zen moment…this sigh of relief.  I can see that after this weekend things start to slow down.  The activity that is balancing careers, passions and family ebb into the valleys of life.  This peak has almost passed.  While I invite the valley ahead I don’t want to rush through this amazing moment…which like a crappy husband I was doing up till right now.  Just gotta keep get through this weekend!  Just gotta stay afloat.  Just gotta…  Just gotta breathe.

Kate,

I’d like to apologize publicly for being a curmudgeon and almost stealing thunder from something amazing you have been doing.  There are a million things going on now but they will all pass.  I’ll get my work done, we’ll find a new car, things have been planned, things will happen, and eventually Max’s teeth will all be in and we’ll sleep again.  All those things will pass.  So will this weekend…it will never happen again.  Let’s not let it pass…lets experience it together.  I vow to pull my head out of my ass and stop being so stressed out.  You need me right now and I’ve been doing nothing more than adding pressure to you.  Let’s tag-team more on comforting Max when he’s fussy, tell me what I can do to help you this week, and let’s have an awesome time.  Art talks, visiting artists, performances, show openings, receptions, family and holidays!  Let’s do this.  You are as immaculate as your canvases.  You are my best friend.  I hope you know that when you are stressed you always have me to lean on…even if I’m being an ass.  Its time to stop stressing and start celebrating.  Its go time!  I love you.

-Ryan

For more information on Kate’s work and “Immaculate Canvas” please visit kvsnewplace.blogspot.com.

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Household Pecking Order After Baby

27 Mar

The king of his castle!  The master of his domain!  The man of the house!  Clearly these titles were not intended for men with children.  Since becoming a father I have become aware that the pecking order of my family has drastically changed.  At first it was funny as I realized how far down the list Luna our cat had moved…then I realized I had moved down a few notches as well.  Below I have created a flow chart of my family’s household pecking order that illustrates the changes that have taken place over the past year.

 

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Small Child For Sale Or Trade*

26 Mar

Have a slightly used 1-year-old boy for sale or trade.*  He is about 14 months old, in near mint condition, long eye lashes, and runs great.  Was very happy for first few months and known for “great disposition.”  Needs a little work but would be a great buy for a family whose patience is not worn out.  Child is currently teething and has all molars coming in as well as a bad case of constipation.  Crying is very strong with occasional bouts of screaming, have found Tylenol and Advil work temporarily with a frozen teething ring.  Does not sleep well but prior to molars was sleeping through the night.  Mother and Father have reached the end of their rope and are emotionally exhausted.  Great project child.

PROS

  • Loves basketball
  • Eats well (when not constipated)
  • Cute
  • Long eyelashes
  • Sweet smile
  • Hugs
  • Adorable use of word “Dada”
  • Likes books
  • Good a drawing
  • Amazing bath time
  • Walks

CONS

  • Screams when teething
  • Low-grade fever
  • Clingy
  • Walking funny (constipated)
  • Afraid of vacuum
  • Aggressive with other kids
  • Attacks cat
  • Squirmy in morning
  • Spills cups easily
  • Hard time with the letter “S”
  • Drool
  • Stinky farts

ASKING PRICE

Willing to consider best offer or will trade for a good night’s sleep or the return of my sanity.*

CONTACT

Comment on this blog post.

LEGAL

*Child is not actually for sale and this entire posting is a joke.  Mother and father are very tired but would never consider selling or trading the child for anything.  Mother and father love the child very much, are doing everything to ease his pain and comfort him, and are very loving people.  The child’s needs are being met to the best of the parent’s ability.  Mother and father would not trade the child but would accept an offer from friends and family to take the child for a short period of time so mother and father could feel like people again.  It is illegal to sell children…seriously…I’m not selling my child.  Would consider trading for a unicorn or the K.C. Chiefs winning the Super Bowl.

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Day Care Hall Pass? (PART 2)

23 Mar

A few weeks ago I posted about how my son and I were getting “Class Passes” at Day Care when we showed up after 9:00 AM.  If you missed it, you can catch the full article here.  After that post I expressed my dislike for the pass to the administration and they kindly listened to what I had to say and took it to heart.  Today…Max and I got another one…and I could be cordial no longer.  It has come to my attention that the issue is the policy and the system…not the administrators who are enforcing it.  I know because I directly expressed my thoughts on the matter to the administrator who gives me the class passes and her response was simply that it is a policy she has to enforce.  So, being the bull-headed man that my wife hates, I wrote a letter to the facility and its owner.  This is that letter.  For privacy reasons, respect for the facility, and love of the staff and teachers I have omitted all names and titles from the letter – otherwise it is unedited.

Attn: ——————————-

I am writing to you as the proud father of Max, a member of Ms. ———-’s class in room —- of (CHILDCARE FACILITY NAME).  May I first say that my wife Kate and I have been ecstatic about the (CHILDCARE FACILITY NAME) staff who go above and beyond to create an amazing atmosphere for kids.  Max loves going there, he is learning so much from your staff and his peers, and the convenience of your location to my office is an added perk.  As busy parents who both work, my wife Kate and I are happy to pay for day care service from your fine facility.  However, our work schedule has caused us to have an ongoing issue with a policy at (CHILDCARE FACILITY NAME) that I would like bring to your attention: The Class Pass.

Numerous times we have been given a Class Pass when we arrive shortly after 9:00 AM, which as I understand is the policy of (CHILDCARE FACILITY NAME).  What I have a hard time understanding is the purpose of the Class Pass.  I have requested it be explained numerous times by various members of your staff and I have come to understand that while it is a policy that was created with good intentions – it has become a policy I find does not serve a purpose.

It makes no sense for me to receive a tiny piece of signed paper to take 15 feet to Max’s classroom where it ends up in the trash moments later.  While I understand that the policy states it is for the teacher to receive I have not met one member of your teaching staff that has ever needed, requested, or wanted the pass once I enter the classroom.  In fact, 99% of the time they tell me “you can keep that.”  I derive the idea is to show I have stopped by administration before going to the classroom but I do not see the purpose of it.  I do not get a class pass to drop Max off before 9:00 AM nor do I get one to pick him up any time I want throughout the day.  I’m not a stranger or grandparent; I’m the father who drops him off every time.  As a parent, my interpretation of the Class Pass (as well as numerous other parents I have spoken to) is that it is demeaning to us, the parent.  We the parents feel as if we are being scolded for our tardiness.  I personally find it insulting.

If Max were attending (CHILDCARE FACILITY NAME) as a student with lesson plans and homework, a class pass would make sense as we would be late for school.  However, he is not.  He is 13 months.  He cannot say “Class Pass,” nor can he say “Sorry for being late.”  He can ask for a cracker, clap his hands, chew on a toy, and point to farm animals on the wall.  While we affectionately call what he does at your facility “school,” it is in fact, “Day Care.”  Day Care is a service I pay for so my wife and I can go to work and make enough money to pay for Day Care.  Please don’t insult me by scolding me for being late to a service I am paying for weekly because my schedule doesn’t conform to that of your facility.  If Class Passes are included in the weekly tuition I pay for (CHILDCARE FACILITY NAME)’s Day Care services, please deduct that amount from my weekly bill as I hereby decline Class Pass services.

I am happy to discuss my thoughts on Class Passes should you desire.  Thank you.

My wife isn’t happy that I sent this but she’s a good friend and reluctantly supports me in things I am passionate about and this is something that has deeply irked me.  I don’t ever want to see another class pass again…and if I do it should be mandatory for every child to have one to enter a class room at any time as well as to be picked up.  Of course then I would have to protest it for the waste of paper this system created.  9:00 AM is our schedule.  that is when we can get Max to school and get ourselves to work.  If we were not 9-5 and had later shifts meaning we brought Max to Day Care at 11:00 AM would we get a class pass every day?  Where is the line?  At what point does the policy become ridiculous…because for me, it already has.

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