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Teaching “How To Be Human” Lessons To Our Son

May 23, 2012 at 10:44 pm , by

A year and a half.

It’s funny to see how your toddler will eagerly mimic and go along with just about anything you do, assuming you are teaching him or her a lesson in what it’s like to be a normal human being.

Because after all, isn’t that sort of what we’re doing as parents- giving our kids “how to be human” lessons each day?

After all, we undoubtedly instill our own family culture into our kids; even if we as the parents are not necessarily aware what our micro-culture even is.

I’m trying to think of some examples of micro-culture in our household, but not for the average American family.

Well, for starters, our son believes that prunes are a delicious dessert. (We deprive the kid of fruit juice, so to him, the sweetness of dried plums taste pretty awesome!)

Jack asks to be pulled in his wagon around the neighborhood; not as a recreational activity, but as a mini-sabbatical.

He thinks that cleaning and doing housework, like vacuuming, is a treat.

Part of our morning routine is that Jill lets him take all the caps off the perfume and cologne bottles; making it his duty to smell each one of them. (That explains why he often smells extremely masculine or feminine each morning on his way to daycare.)

There’s the fact that my wife and I realized it will be a while before we can upgrade from our modest 31 inch screen TV, so we pulled out our blow-up mattress to lay down on to watch Lost on. Hey, if we can’t make the TV bigger, we can at least make it seem bigger, right? Anyway, Jack has assumed it’s his new play mat.

Oh, and then there’s the exercise video with accompanying exercise step…

My wife’s exercise step has been a sporadic toy choice for Jack over the past month or so. Sometimes during playtime he grunts and points to the closet.

That’s my cue to take it out for him and let him “walk the plank.” Evidently it’s a lot of fun when you’re 18 months-old.

By going along with the idea that an exercise step is a kids’ toy, I reinforce his preconceived idea that this is normal.

Last Saturday, while wearing his (in)famous plaid romper, he decided to join Jill in a work-out video in the convenience of our living room thanks to Netflix on our Wii, called Dance Off the Inches: Calorie Blasting.

If only Elmo had his very own dance video for toddlers…

Jack thinks dancing to an exercise video is normal for an 18 month-old. And I allow him to.

Too bad he has to learn how to be a normal human being from me. My feet may be on the ground, but my head is always in the clouds.

Poor kid.

 

Why My Son Looks Weird In A Romper

May 22, 2012 at 9:41 pm , by

A year and a half.

After seeing my son wear this romper, I finally understand the meaning of the 1991 hit song, “I’m Too Sexy” by Right Said Fred.

Just like I personally know how it is being too sexy for my hat, my shirt, and my cat, so my son is too masculine for this plaid romper.

It just doesn’t work for him. Sorry Son, but this is one outfit you can’t pull off. And I think it’s safe to say that’s a compliment.

This past Saturday my wife skeptically dressed Jack in his new romper as we met some friends at The Pfunky Griddle for breakfast.

As he played in the foyer, I couldn’t help but notice: He doesn’t look right in this thing.

What would it take for him to be able to pull it off? A chili bowl haircut, for starters.

But I don’t think Jack is the chili bowl haircut kind of boy. His military cut seems to suit him well; as does his deep and raspy Croatian voice.

Jack hits his head hard every day as he plays and never flinches or cries about it; most of the time he doesn’t even realize that, technically, he’s injured.

He might as well have a barbed wire tattoo around his bicep.

Jack can pull off “cute,” but not this kind of cute.

I’m not knocking little boys’ rompers, because obviously as many other boy toddlers I see wearing them, and as many are being sold in stores, they must be good for somebody.

As I’ve fished for input on The Dadabase Facebook wall, I’m hearing a consensus that rompers like this are best designed A) for babies, not toddlers and B) for girls. Is that accurate?

Though I personally prefer to dress nice and classy every chance I get, my wife says that she prefers me as a “t-shirt and jeans guy.”

Similarly, I think my son is a t-shirt and jeans toddler.

And he can rock a retro yellow suit from 1981.

Or a wool cap in 85 degree weather.

But to see him grunt his way around in between bar stools and benches wearing this, he just seems like a walking contradiction.

Am I a macho chauvinist dad or am I right to assume that these kinds of rompers just aren’t appropriate for 18 month-old little boys?

Only Right Said Fred can judge me.

My Toddler Son’s Cold Welcome Back To Mommy

May 21, 2012 at 5:50 am , by

A year and a half.

I had never taken care of my son Jack overnight without my wife Jill being there.

It’s not something I was worried about; I knew I could handle Jill’s day and half business trip to Washington, DC.

Feeding him dinner, bathing him, putting him to bed, handling breakfast the next morning, packing all his stuff for daycare, then dinner and bedtime again.

That’s all I had to handle; in the midst of also picking up my wife’s goodies for Mother’s Day.

So in reality, how did it go? Did I manage it okay?

Uh, yeah. Actually, it was a little too easy.

I didn’t want to wife to know that, though. I didn’t want her to learn that I was able to get him to sleep earlier and quicker than normal. And that I was able to leave the house the next morning about 10 minutes earlier, too.

Not to mention, bath time was a breeze. Jack and I had a lot of fun squirting each other with his bath toys. Before we both knew it, he was sparkly clean and he was pleasantly eager to fall asleep.

This situation reminded me of an article my wife had read which explained that a child is often the most difficult and high maintenance with the parent who he or she was closest to in infancy. After this event, I could see that.

That’s not to say we didn’t both miss her very much. He definitely kept asking “Mama?” while she was gone.

But he seemed to understand as I would explain that Mommy would be back the next day.

I told Jill how I was looking forward to the look on his face when he woke up Saturday morning and saw that she was back. We both had high expectations.

At 6:23 AM on Saturday Jill and I woke up to Jack’s usual hilarious monologue consisting of animal sounds and calls for Elmo. Together, we snuck in his bedroom.

He was standing up, hanging on to the rail of his bed, with his diaper off and a puddle of pee on the carpet below. (That has never happened before!)

Jack was in a weird daze. He seemed apathetic to the fact that Mommy was back, despite my own proclamations of excitement for him.

We travelled to The Pfunky Griddle to have breakfast with Henry’s family and then to another of his toddler friend’s birthday parties.

It wasn’t until the middle of the afternoon that Jack warmed back up to her. I could tell it sort of hurt my wife’s feelings because he wasn’t acting happy that she was back. Actually, I was pretty bummed for her.

I certainly didn’t want to rub it in that things went so well while she was gone. So I did the only thing I knew to do: Let things work themselves out on their own.

By the next day, Jack was whining for Mommy again.

But something tells me that my son’s cold welcome back to Mommy isn’t so unique of an experience in the world of parenting. I bet there’s some psychology behind it that someone smarter than myself could explain; or at least someone else who can relate to this seemingly unusual story.

[Passes the mic to the audience.]

How Much Do You Care What Other Parents Think?

May 17, 2012 at 9:19 pm , by

A year and a half.

Culturally, as children of The Eighties, we’ve been taught we’re not supposed to care what other people think about us. But really, is that even possible? Especially as parents, shouldn’t we care… at least a little?

In my office I work with a guy who, at least once a week, declares, “I could care less what people think about me!” The funny thing is, he has said it enough times that I no longer believe him.

I’m convinced that he wants people to think he doesn’t care; therefore, he cares what people think of him.

When it comes to being a parent, I suppose it can be easy to put yourself in a position to be judged and analyzed by other parents.

“Why did you decide to circumcise your son?”

“Oh, you don’t let him drink fruit juice?”

“You did the ‘cry it out’ method with him? Don’t you know that traumatizes a kid?”

So much polarization in parenting.

Here’s the thing about me. I do care about what people think about me… to an extent. And I think it’s important that I do.

It matters that I’m not a racist, a bigot, a gossip, a chauvinist, or a self-centered jerk. There are all kinds of things I don’t what to be perceived as. Like a bad father.

What would make me a bad parent? Not caring. Choosing not to be involved in my son’s life.

But when it comes to being perceived as wrong about all those numerous controversial parenting issues… well, that’s cool with me.

Because the thing is, when it comes to every and any issue in life in general, there’s a pretty good chance I’m wrong at least half the time. Especially in being a dad.

And being “wrong” in the eyes of the slight majority doesn’t mean I’m not a good father. Whether or not I’m being “normal enough” is irrelevant to me.

Accordingly, I just don’t have time to worry about other parents.

For example, I am absolutely against medicating my child for ADHD at any point. But how do I feel about parents who do?

Don’t care. Not my kid.

So what do I care about? I care that I have my own convictions on how I will raise my son and that I stick to them. If I have questions, I will seek the advice of people I respect. Not worry myself about it.

I want to say today that ultimately, I honestly don’t care what other parents think about me as a parent.

While I’m at it, I would love to also proclaim that I don’t judge other parents when I disagree with their parenting style, as I deal with the plank in my own eye as opposed to the perceived speck of dust in the eyes of other parents.

But like the coworker who I mentioned earlier, do I really feel this way or do I just want you to think I do?

That is the question.

My 18 Month-old Toddler Says Bye-Bye Inappropriately

May 16, 2012 at 7:56 pm , by

A year and a half.

Jack loves to find a reason to tell someone (or something) goodbye. He gets the concept of saying “bye-bye” to other people when he is leaving the room.

But what he doesn’t understand is that it only applies to humans.

When walking down in the sidewalk in our neighborhood and we pass a neighbor walking their dog… you guessed it. Once the dog passes us, not the person walking the dog, Jack tells the dog “bye-bye.”

As Jack is in his rear-facing car seat on the drive home from day care and the car behind us turns the other way at a 4-way stop… “bye-bye.”

At the end of bath time each night, even the water going down the drain is worthy of a sweet farewell.

Of course, today marks a milestone for Jack anyway because he is now a year and a half old. However, it’s also special because he spoke his first sentence:

“Bye-bye Dada.”

As Jill was carrying him upstairs for bedtime, he turned back to me and said it very clearly.

I’ve never heard him combine two words in a legitimate manner until now.

To hear him say his first sentence actually was a bigger deal for me than when he said his first word; which coincidentally was “Dada.”

But the sentence “Bye-bye Dada” was more special. He looked me right in the eyes. It was so deliberate.

Those two words conveyed not just a simple message to me, but instead, “I know who you are. I know you take care of me. I love you.”

Or maybe I’m just reading into it.