MADE TO ORDER

Before we had kids Jen and I had developed some expensive taste when it came to eating out. We were food snobs. We couldn’t go out for a simple dinner without spending at least $100. And even to this day I don’t think you can get a decent steak for under $30. But then we had children and everything went sideways…

Initially we thought our nights of dining out were over. As well as our entire lives, as we knew it. When you’ve got kids and no family within driving distance you don’t go out much. You can’t. And we vowed before our kids were even born that we would never be one of those couples who “let” their kids have a public meltdown in a restaurant. Of course the truth is every kid has meltdowns and no matter how hard you try to prevent them one’s ultimately going to coincide with a side order of beef carpaccio.

When we finally got past the first month of parenthood where you think the world is one giant germ, we said screw it and started taking Arden out to restaurants. We needed some fun. We needed some normalcy in our lives. We needed a vice and for us dining out became our vice. Sure Arden was fussy and she had the occasional meltdown, but we kept taking her out. To avoid the embarrassment factor we would go out for late lunches and early dinners when there were fewer diners there to give us the “holier than thou” eye. This allowed us to continue going to our favorite kid unfriendly spots.


By doing this Arden quickly learned what was acceptable restaurant behavior. And ultimately we had no real issues when we took her out. So it became our thing to meet friends who didn’t have kids at restaurants. We tried to meet our friends who had kids, but because their kids weren’t accustomed to restaurants they always declined our invitations or suggested “hanging out” instead. Yeah, I wanna hang out with extra kids in the same place I hang out with my own kids all week long. So then we became our own holier than thou set.

But then something strange happened when Arden started to outgrow her portable booster seat. I started getting irritated that our favorite fancy joints didn’t have highchairs. Apparently they didn’t want kids there.

Being in the entertainment business means you go on a lot of lunches. I mean a lot of lunches. But the first thing I would do when I went to a new spot was scope the place out for a highchair in case the place was good and I wanted to come back with Jen and Arden. But then I started to further devolve as a foodie. We started going to “family friendly” restaurants like T.G.I. Friday’s and the Olive Garden and what’s worse is that I started liking those places. I looked forward to my unlimited breadsticks at The O.G., as I started to call it. What the hell was happening to me? What the hell was happening to my palate? Kids. That’s what happened.


To this day we still go out with the girls every Saturday and Sunday for lunch and often Friday evenings too. And with it being Arden’s 4th Birthday today she will be picking the restaurant tonight. Yes, at 4 she actually has favorite restaurants of her own. Though Arden’s choices are usually based on whether a restaurant has a koi pond or not over actual food quality. And little Alex has turned into a great restaurant kid, just like her big sister...as long as we ply her with an unlimited supply of Arrowroot cookies. Occasionally we’ll still hit one of the nicer joints, but it’s just easier to go to a place where the kids can be loud and no one cares. And even though we do hit the Outback Steakhouse from time-to-time, I still believe you can’t get a good steak for under $30. But a Bloomin’ Onion appetizer definitely helps me look the other way.


Pictured: The Girls at Arden's Birthday Pick tonight, the House of Pies.

DEATH BECOMES HER

So Arden's goldfish bit it this past weekend. At least that's how Jen put it when she informed our impressionable daughter of the passing of her beloved Goldie.

I kid you not, we've had this twelve cent goldfish for over two years. I've been through at least a dozen containers of tetra flakes for this one fish. But ultimately he could only swim around fate for so long. So when Jen spotted Goldie floating upside down in his bowl she called me in, wondering how we should approach Arden. I said, "She has no idea what death is, so let's just tell her." So we called Arden into the room and showed her Goldie. Jen used her aforementioned eloquence to explain what had transpired. No reaction. But about a minute later Arden said with a hopeful grin, "Can we get a new fish?" "Sure." And then we flushed the sucker and went out to lunch.

But as the day went on Arden started to get curious. She asked if she would ever see Goldie again. I said, "No. But he's up in heaven looking down on you." Arden looked up at the sky and said she couldn't see him. I explained that it was a one way deal. And then Arden asked the inevitable question: Am I going to die? We decided to go with the honest route, "Not for a long long time." But Arden started to get weepy and said, "I don't wanna die." So Jen tried to make it better by going the less-than-honest route and said Goldie was now an angel with wings. I'm not really up on my Biblical studies, but I thought that angels brought us to heaven. I didn't think we became them. And I didn't think Arden needed that kind of visual with her overactive imagination. But we managed to stave off any further questions by turning on Spongebob and plying her with some peanut butter pretzels.

Over the past couple of days Arden's continued to ask me if Goldie can see her and I keep saying, "Of course." And since she's a smarty pants she keeps saying things like, "Even through the roof?" Eventually she let it go. That was until I was driving her to school this morning.

Arden said, "Is Goldie's flying around right now?" I said, "Yes, up in heaven." Arden then said, "I love to fly. I can't wait to die." Thanks, Jen.

PRESCHOOL BLUES

In less than a week Arden will turn four and she’ll start going to preschool five days a week (up from three). I’ve been waiting, less-than-patiently, for this moment ever since the day I became a full-time stay-at-home dad. However, now that the big day is upon me, I feel conflicted.

There’s no question the days when I have both girls are tough. But I’m already starting to miss the little sass machine. I really won’t see her during the week anymore. The mornings before school don’t count because I’m busy feeding the baby and getting Arden dressed and ready for school. And evenings after I pick her up from school don’t really count either because they’re filled with making dinner, fighting over how much parmesan cheese Arden can put on her chicken nuggets (according to Arden everything tastes better with parmesan cheese and ketchup) and putting the baby to bed (we’re weaning Alex off the boob so I have to put Alex to bed while Jen gets to read stories to Arden.) So again, I really won’t see that much of her. And I can’t believe I’m gonna write this, but I’m gonna miss getting down on the floor and playing dollhouse (granted I insist on using Star Wars figures when we play) but I’m also gonna miss painting her toenails random colors and playing that god awful Madagascar 2 board game. Man did they miss the mark on that one.
Sure I can still do all this on the weekend, but Jen will be there too which means I’ve lost my special one-on-one time with Arden. Or one-on-one-and-a-half time if you count Alex. I don’t think Arden favors me any more than Jen, in fact I think she might even prefer Jen since the traditional roles have been reversed and I’m the one who tells her “no” all day long and Jen’s the one she waits excitedly by the door to see at the end of the day. But even though Arden may favor her mother right now, I’m gonna miss our dynamic. Plus she probably won’t even realize Jen and I will essentially be spending the same amount of time with her now, so she’ll still favor Jen.

So what am I gonna do? I’m gonna buy Arden everything she wants and make her love me more than Jen. But seriously I figure since I’ll already be watching one kid during the week, why not occasionally opt to watch two. I think at least one day a week I’ll take Arden out of school early. I haven’t figured out exactly what we’ll do yet. Maybe I’ll sign her up for a pottery class or something or go on one of our many day trips to the Museum of Natural History or Best Buy. Doesn’t really matter where we go, as long as the two of us get to hang out like the good old days of last week.

A COSTCO ADVENTURE

We’re less than a week away from the “Big Four” and this party we have planned for Arden’s birthday is getting out of control. But I’ll save my actual rant until after the big event because if I’m this riled up about it now, I can only imagine what I'll have for you the morning after. Anyway, in preparation for the festivities we hit Costco yesterday to look for some bulk party bargains. Big mistake.

Going to Costco on the weekend in Los Angeles is like entering a warzone. Usually I go during the week with the girls because it’s relatively empty, but with the birthday only a week away we had no choice. Normally I take the girls around noon because with all the free samples they're dishing out I don't need to make Arden a lunch. But on the weekends the people are like vultures. Grown men and women will jump over small children to get a free slice of Spam. It’s insane. But what’s more ridiculous is that I find myself joining the insanity, elbowing the elderly out of the way so I can get my kid a cube of processed cheese. And even more amazing to me is that I can’t get Arden to eat anything except chicken nuggets at home, but at Costco she’ll eat a piece of glazed salmon if it comes on a doily. Note to self: Buy lots of doilies next time I’m at Costco.

But the worst part of the weekend Costco experience is the old Mexican women. I don’t want to sound prejudiced or racist, but these women are obsessed with touching babies. Sure, we all like to grab a pudgy little thigh if it comes our way, but these old ladies who troll Costco will go out of their way to get a little baby action. I mean they will literally chase me across the store trying to touch my kids. Happens every time. Without fail.

Well yesterday one of these old ladies also happened to be dispensing some sample chunks of some kind of strawberry frozen smoothie concoction so we had no choice but to let her cop a feel. After she had her squeeze she turned to me and said my girls we’re “beautiful like little Jesus.” I took it as some kind of compliment, but also an excuse to get the hell out of there.

We did manage to score some items for the party, but my week ahead will be spent picking up the slack, like balloons, a helium tank, soda, chips, sandwiches, a cake…

Pictured: My beautiful little Jesuses at Costco.

TO POOP OR NOT TO POOP

I’m not gonna make a lot of friends with this post, but here goes…

I like to portray myself as someone who’s accepting of other people’s parenting methods, but the truth is I’m not. I have very strong feelings about how I do things versus how other people attack them. For example, I think there’s a very clear socially acceptable cutoff to breastfeeding and it’s well before the kid can “use their words” to ask for a little boob. And I think people who co-sleep with their kids are asking for a needy child. And don’t get me started on people who don’t trust their doctors when it comes to vaccines. However, I’ll be the first to admit that I only think I’m right. Deep down I know what works for one kid doesn’t always work for another and God knows what worked for my first child certainly isn’t doing the trick the second time around. But I still think I’m right. ☺ And yesterday I definitely felt I was right...

So I’m at one of my all time favorite playground alternatives yesterday, Barnes & Noble. I love taking the girls there because like a toy store the kids can go wild and play with all the stuffed animals and toys and I don’t have clean up after them because the unfortunate employee who’s been assigned to that section will do that for me. Plus, with all the books, it’s also like taking them to the library, except they can be loud. So there’s an “educational” component to the trip. There’s also a Starbucks in there, which is a major bonus for Daddy.

Anyway, Arden was hanging out in the Spongebob section with another little girl who was probably about three years old when suddenly the little girl turns to Arden and says, “I gotta poop” and then she ran off to her nanny who had been “busy” texting someone for the past half hour. I assumed Texty would take her to the bathroom because if a kid knows the shit is about to hit the fan, so speak, they’ve gotta be potty trained or at least in the process. But nope. Instead the world’s greatest nanny headfakes to a semi-private corner nearby and sends her over there to do her business in her pants while she continued her texting frenzy. Did I mention this girl had to be three and she had the wherewithal to ask to poop and to wait for the answer? Of course that corner was right next to me and like a bad car accident I couldn’t look away at the nightmare that was unfolding in front of me. I watched as the little girl bore down on a railing with her face turning bright red. She caught me staring and said the saddest five words I had ever heard, “I’m…going…to…the…potty.” It was then that I smashed the nanny’s cell phone on the ground. Or at least I wanted to.

THE JOURNEY TO SELFLESSNESS

Someone made a comment about Monday’s blog entry. They asked after reading it “Should I have a child? I mean, why should I have a child?” I just want to clear up right now that I may bitch and moan about being a stay-at-home dad, but the bottom line is that I love being a dad. It’s truly the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me. Having children has given a deeper meaning to my life. And it’s strengthened the bond between my wife and I more than I could ever imagine. But that doesn’t mean it’s easy. In fact I’ve found being a parent downright hard. Harder than anyone ever told me it would be. But it’s also extremely rewarding. And the great thing about parenthood is that the rewards just keep on coming. Right now, with the baby, my reward is the unique smile she gives me when I enter the room. It’s different than the one she gives Jen and that one’s different than all the ones she gives to everyone else. With Arden, it’s the gift of watching her mind grow and hearing her say, “I love you, Daddy.” There isn’t a greater gift I can think of. Though a new Blu-ray Disc player with Netflix streaming capability would be a nice second. Hey, Father’s Day is coming.


All that being said, it doesn’t mean I want to spend twenty-four hours a day with the girls. I wouldn’t want to spend twenty-four hours a day with anyone, not even my wife. During the four months Jen was out on maternity leave we wanted to shoot each other on a daily basis. Though I’m happy to report that since she went back to work we only want to shoot each other every once in a while. :)


But to be honest, I never thought I’d end up a stay-at-home dad, even part-time. As a freelance writer I’m home, so it made sense, especially during the fallow periods of my career. But I think part of the reason it’s so tough for me sometimes is that I’m selfish. I want my “me time.” And when I had only one kid I got it. We had a nanny, twenty-plus hours a week. But now that we have two kids and we no longer have a nanny my me time is gone. And I’m learning to accept that. A friend of mine put it best, “Being a parent is a journey to selflessness.” I would amend that to “a never ending journey to selflessness.” And every day I’m reminded of that lesson. Especially on days like today when the baby is fussy from teething and adjusting (or rather not adjusting) to the time change from our trip and Arden refuses to nap and throws a fit while I’m trying to prep dinner and of course in the midst of this all the kitchen sink gets backed up. I’m talking call the plumber backed up. It was not a good day and I think it’s confessions like these that have given Monday’s commenter pause. But again, while I didn’t choose to be a stay-at-home dad, I feel blessed -- and I don’t use that term lightly, in fact I’ve never used that term -- to have the opportunity to spend my days with my girls and watch them grow. But it ain’t always easy and it ain’t always fun and this blog is a place for me to vent and still exercise a little creativity at the same time.

Pictured: My girls up top and Arden dressed as a present, wrapping paper and all, below.

THE "WEEKEND"

So I’m officially back from my trip and boy do I need a vacation. That’s not to say I didn’t have any fun while we were away. I got to see some high school and college friends that I hadn’t seen in eons and I also got to check out the new Star Trek flick with the wife, but still, when you travel anywhere with two kids, under the age of four, it’s not exactly a vacation. And there’s only so much time you can foist the kids onto your own parents which means at least half my time is still spent wrangling the girls. Right now a real vacation to me is a toss up between a luxury resort in Maui and one day in front of my computer sans kids.

Instead of a continued rant on the joys of traveling with children, this lack of vacation has made me realize that when you’re a stay-at-home parent, of any gender, there’s also no weekend…

Sure, your spouse is home, but it’s not like that’s an invitation to just kick up your feet and catch up on the 7 episodes of 24 on your DVR that have been haunting you for months. At least it’s not in my house. The weekend just means that you’re watching the kids together. Maybe she’ll watch one while I watch the other, but that’s no vacation. That’s my Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays when Arden’s in school and I’ve just got Alex. Obviously there are times where we’ll swap off watching both kids. And Jen doesn’t have a problem with me taking off for a few hours on the weekend to do my own thing. But I never do. There’s just too much stuff I need to do around the house that I can’t get to when I’m watching the girls. Like paying bills and mowing the lawn. Okay, I haven’t mowed the lawn in like six months, but you know what I mean.

And it’s not like Jen gets much of a weekend either. She works hard during the week and then comes home to immediately watch two kids while I cook dinner. And on the weekends, if she’s not watching the girls she’s doing all the chores I missed or am incapable of doing (that’s a multipart post unto itself). And don’t get me wrong, we both love spending time with the girls, but sometimes you just need a freakin’ break. And I should note here that Jen and I have no family in Los Angeles so we’re on our own. No dropping the kids off at grandmas. No favorite aunts swinging by to watch the girls. It’s just Jen and me. Or we can pay $15 an hour for a babysitter. Which means it’s just Jen and me.


I will admit that there are a few pleasures I derive out of my not-weekend. I do get a few extra minutes on the computer (but there’s not enough time to do any real screenwriting). I also covet my time in the bathroom. Showering during the week is far from enjoyable. And it often doesn’t happen. Though I have mastered the art of taking a shower and getting dressed in the time it takes to warm up a bottle. But on the weekends, with Jen home, I shower my ass off. I’m in there sometimes so long I need to sit down. I’m actually considering installing a bench in there, but until then I take advantage of the other bench in the bathroom. The toilet. I often feel as a stay-at-home parent that it’s one of my obligations to hold in my bodily fluids until sometime after 9:00 PM when I know the kids are definitely asleep. But on the weekends, even if I just have to take a leak, I’ll grab the Sunday paper and my iPod and head into the bathroom and just tune out for a nice long while.

Gotta run, baby’s crying…Where’s the funny pages?

NOTES FROM THE VACATION FRONT

I'm still on vacation, if you can call it that. I'm in a rare moment where I can actually use the computer for more than a minute -- the baby is asleep and everyone else is out at an amusement park on the North Carolina/South Carolina state line, roasting in the 90+ degree sun. Suckers. We went last summer and it was over 100 degrees and I nearly passed out after eating some fried chicken and spinning around in a Backyardigans tilt-a-whirl, a ride geared towards 3-year-olds. Anyway, I would've chimed in sooner, but in Boston we were constantly on the go and when we weren't my sister was on the computer dealing with some kind of yoga-related emergency. But here I am after making the "magnanimous" offer to stay behind, in this air conditioned sanctuary, with the baby.


The five hour trip to Boston wasn't half as bad as I thought, though not having fully developed mammary glands it was up to my wife to soothe the baby. However, I stupidly thought Arden would be the good one on the trip. I filled up my iPod touch with all sort of Disney/Pixar goodness, but Arden decided she didn't want to watch anything, instead she wanted to make sure the baby stayed awake with her. And after only one hour she turned to me and said, "I wanna get off the plane now." Me too. But things got better after a few threats of punishment and a juice box. Yup, we said we were gonna punish her and then rewarded her. The things we do to get our kids to settle down in public.

Jen kept saying how easy the trip was and I kept warning her not to jinx things. Just because the girls were "pretty good" on the long plane trip doesn't mean they won't be horrible on the three short ones ahead. Well my prophesy proved correct. We took JetBlue down to Charlotte on Tuesday morning. Well, it started out as a morning flight. After a two hour delay we finally boarded the plane and Alex wasn't having it. She was tired, hungry, cranky and her ears were popping this time around and nothing, not even boob, would calm her down. And on top of that the baggage claim guys broke Alex's stroller. Snapped the sucker in two. They're paying for a new one and we got a $30 travel voucher out of it. Sweet! I can't wait to travel with the family again.

But we did arrive and we got to stop at Friendly's for a late late lunch. Friendly's is a big deal for us because Jen and I used to love it as kids and they don't have them in California. The same goes for the Dairy Queen, Dunkin' Donuts and Papa Gino's pizza. Anyway, after a Jim Dandy and a Reese's Pieces Sundae, we were refreshed and ready for leg two of the trip.


Yesterday was the first full day of our visit to Charlotte and we went to the "red neck" equivalent of Lion Country Safari. If you're not familiar with Lion Country Safari, it's this awesome drive-thru zoo in Florida, where the animals come up to your car. I'm not calling this place red neck because it was dirty or because I felt like I was going to be raped while a banjo played, I say "red neck" because it was a weird mix of animals -- pot bellied pigs and goats were running wild with zebras and giraffes. And there wasn't any staff once you drove into the grounds. You were on your own. And the path you took was often narrow and on these cliffs you could just tumble right over. And unlike Lion Country Safari where you had to keep your windows closed at all times, this place sold you feed buckets and encouraged you to hang out the windows.


So Jen and I were in one car with the baby while Arden was in the car in front of us with my in-laws. I looked on in complete horror as I see them lower her window as these giant animals jammed their heads inside the car and aggressively started digging into Arden's feed bucket while she's trying to feel their tongues. Jen assured me that my in-laws would never let anything happen to their granddaughter. Fine, but what about the animal that "looks like a horse, but has horns" - that was the brochure's exact description of whatever that animal was. Obviously Arden survived and thankfully the first aid kit in the car had some Zantac in it for me.

Anyway, that's all the time I have now. Hopefully more later.

Pictured: Alex and a "red neck" zebra

VACATION?

Two kids, two cities, four planes, eight days.

I dunno if I’d really call it a “vacation.” We’re taking the girls to see both sets of grandparents. It’s our annual East Coast Swing where we head to Boston to see my folks and then shoot down to Charlotte to see Jen’s. It’s Alex’s first plane trip and because she’s only 7 months old and because we’re cheap, we only bought three seats. It should be a fun experiment and by fun I mean hellacious. But I’m sure it will provide great fodder for the old blog. Anyway, I’ll be semi out-of-commission for the next week. I’m hoping to chime in with some real-time adventures, but the posts will probably show up at odd times and on random days. So if you don’t want to keep checking the site for updates, click on the subscribe button and the site with update you. Wish me luck!

SLEEP KARMA

Arden didn’t take a nap until she was nine months old. Not one. But the trade off was that she slept through the night, in a crib, in her own room, from day two. And it wasn’t one of those faux “slept through the nights” where you feed your kid at midnight and they wake up at 5:30 AM and you consider that a success. We put Arden down at 8:00 PM (so we could maximize our primetime television habit) and she wouldn’t stir until 8:00 AM. We didn’t know how good we had it until Alex came along…

I was originally concerned about having two girls because I didn’t want to compare them. What if they were similar? What if Alex fell behind Arden’s milestones? Well, it took all of a few minutes to realize these two girls were completely different. Alex was a napper. When she was only six days old we took the girls to lunch and the movies and Alex slept from the second she got in the car seat until long after we returned home from the oh-so-wonderful Madagascar 2. But flipside was that she didn’t want to sleep through the night. She really only got up once a night for a little boob action and she immediately fell back to sleep so it wasn’t that big of a deal. For me anyway, since I wasn’t the one lactating.

Alex continued with this pattern up until the beginning of last week when she started waking up every half hour. It was friggin’ brutal. With no teeth coming in we figured maybe it had to do with the fact that she just started sitting up on her own and when she would wake up she just wanted to sit up and look around. Either way it sucked. Big time. And she wouldn’t nap during the day either, so she was overtired and the cycle would begin again. After three straight nights of this Alex finally tuckered herself out. I put her down at 8:00 PM and it wasn’t until around 11:00 PM that I heard…Arden.

Arden was calling out for Jen so I went into her room to check on her (when she calls out for me, Jen usually goes in. And no, there is no reason why we play the opposite game). So I go in Arden’s room and I’m instantly met by a storm of vomit. Arden was throwing up everywhere. The sheets, the pillow, the comforter, the walls, the rugs and me. We figured Arden had some food poisoning, which caused her to accuse me of poisoning her because I forced her to eat vegetables that night. Yes, it must’ve been that miniscule piece of zucchini I gave her. Anyway, it took about an hour to clean everything up only for her to puke again on the new sheets, the new pillow, the new blanket and the freshly cleaned rug. This went on all night until we ran out of linens and cleaning supplies. But alas Alex managed to sleep through it all.

I could end this post here, but it gets worse. The next night Alex was up again every thirty minutes and this has continued until last night when we finally got her down. That is until Jen started puking around 11:00 PM, which caused Arden to wake up which in turn caused Alex to wake up. In short, I’m currently in a sleep-deprived hell.

In the photo: Alex's first day home from the hospital with big sis Arden.

SIGN OF THE TIMES

They say you can teach babies sign language so you can communicate with them before they have verbal skills. Well Alex is 7 months old right now and I don’t need any special language to know exactly what she wants or when she wants it. But when Arden was born and I was new at this parenting thing I found myself fascinated by the idea that we could teach her sign language. I had these fantasies of having these detailed conversations with her. I also had flashbacks to the summer after eighth grade and wishing I knew how to sign instead of juggle when I tried to woo the hot deaf chick at summer camp. Anyway, I ordered up a couple of signing books and a DVD. The DVD is supposed to show you some examples of what a baby looks like while they’re signing. I’ll save you some money on the DVD right now; it doesn’t look like they’re doing anything.

The first three signs they say you should teach the baby are “eat,” “water” (which doubles for “drink”) and “more.” For months Jen and I reinforced the signs with Arden whenever we fed or watered her. It seemed fruitless, but the book said it would take several months to kick in, so we kept trying and then one day when Arden was about 13 months old, after munching on some of those dissolvable Cheerio things, she started making the “more” sign. Clear as day. Jen and I were ecstatic. We couldn’t believe it. We asked her to do it again, just to be sure and lo and behold, she did it again. We quickly got her some more Cheerio things and she scarfed them down. We were so excited to be communicating with our daughter, I mean really communicating. So the next day when snack time rolled around we purposely gave Arden a smaller than usual portion of Cheerios, hoping she would do the sign again. When she finished I looked at her and said, “More?” But instead of making the sign, she just smiled at me and said, “More.” Five minutes later the sign language books and the DVD landed in the trash.