This afternoon in the car Arden says to me, "Are you proud of me when I eat all of my dinner, Daddy?" "Of course," I said. Arden replied, "Why would you be proud of me if eating dinner was something I'm just supposed to do?"
Friday, December 31, 2010
QUOTABLE ARDEN
This afternoon in the car Arden says to me, "Are you proud of me when I eat all of my dinner, Daddy?" "Of course," I said. Arden replied, "Why would you be proud of me if eating dinner was something I'm just supposed to do?"
Saturday, July 24, 2010
WHEN IS YOUR CHILD READY FOR A SLEEPOVER?
Sorry for the delay between posts. I've been working on two non-blog-related projects and went on vacation and life in general got in the way. Anyway, I wrote a new piece for Parents Ask last week, but their site is in the process of a makeover and it may be a while before it actually shows up so I figured I'd just post it here now and Parents Ask can have my sloppy seconds. So without further adieu...
The title of this piece is really a rhetorical question. I have the answer and it’s “not 5 years old.” At least not an unsolicited sleepover. I mean if your friends are really in a bind for a babysitter and ask you to watch their kid overnight, that’s another story, but when your 5 year old asks on their on volition if their friend can sleepover, just say, “No.” But in either scenario the end result probably would’ve ended up the same for us this past weekend: a disaster of epic proportions.
About 20 months ago Arden had her first sleepover and she didn’t even know it. Jen went into labor in the middle of the night so I called up our closest couple-friends-with-kids, Craig and Erin and had Craig come over and sleep at the house while we went off to have another baby. Arden woke up that morning to find Uncle Craig there, waiting to give her breakfast and a ride to preschool. That night Arden slept at Craig and Erin’s house and got to have her first “official” sleepover with her “best friend and worst enemy” Franny. According to Craig and Erin, Arden was a complete angel (who somehow ended up sleeping with Craig and Erin). I find it hard to believe the “angel” part, but Craig and Erin are too nice to say otherwise. So for the past 20 months the girls have been impatiently waiting for a sleepover reunion…at our house.
We’ve managed to come up with 20 months of excuses for it not to happen, “Franny’s got church in the morning…You’re catching a cold and you don’t want to spread it…Franny needs it to be pitch black in order to sleep.” (Yes, we’re simultaneously staving off a sleepover and creating a neurotic child.) Anyway, I finally gave in on Saturday. We were having Craig and Erin and the kids over for pizza and beer that night so I said, “Why doesn’t Franny sleep over?”
As I just mentioned, Franny and Arden are each other’s best friend and worst enemy. They love each other, get excited to see each other, but when they finally meet, they fight like cats and dogs. So essentially they’re like sisters. In fact they’re only a week apart (we actually planned to get pregnant at the same time as Craig and Erin and it worked out). But the two girls have completely different personalities. Arden’s on the bossy side. Okay, she IS the bossy side. And Franny is, let’s just say, sensitive. If Arden wants to play “kitchen” and Franny doesn’t Arden will scrunch her face and bitch to us that Franny isn’t being nice and upon hearing this Franny will flop to the floor with overdramatic fake tears until someone resolves the issue. Now if Franny wants to, say watch iCarly, and Arden doesn’t, Franny will just stand there like a rock while Arden gets all up in her grill, reading her her Playskool Miranda Rights. This may lead to a little shoving which can sometimes lead to flops to the ground and overdramatic teardom.
During Pizza Time, things were no different. We had to settle at least a dozen disputes, often with the threat of cancelling the sleepover, but unbelievably, no matter how pissed each girl was at the other, they both pleaded with us to not call off the sleepover. We theorized that once Craig and Erin left the girls would calm down because there was no one to run and tattle to. But we were wrong. We set the girls up on the pull out couch in my office downstairs. We put on a movie and gave them some popcorn, but they fought over the snacks, the bedcovers, who kicked who under the sheets, who had more stuffed animals, etc. And when they weren’t bickering they were coming up with new excuses not to go to sleep. Arden: “I need my night light.” Franny, “I need a night light too.” Me, “I need a gun.”
We eventually got the girls down around 11:00 PM after 16 trips to the bathroom and Jen pretending to sleep in between them. By that point it was too late to watch the movie we rented so we just took some Advil and went to bed…until 6:00 AM.
I figured with the girls up so late that they would sleep in. Nope. The whole house was up at 6:00 AM. Including my “Sunday is the only day I get to sleep late” wife. When I offered the girls each a box of those individually packed Kellogg’s cereals there was immediate competition, “I want Frosted Flakes.” “I want Frosted Flakes too.” Me: “There’s only one box.” “Okay, I’ll have Fruit Loops.” “I want Fruit Loops too.” So Jen and I said, “Screw it, we’re going out for pancakes.” We thought the change of venue would loosen things up and kill some time before dropping off Franny. But the antics continued at the restaurant when Franny had the audacity to use the red crayon that Arden had just finished using. So Arden throws a fit and says, “Franny took my crayon” and Franny says, “No I didn’t” and Arden says Franny isn’t being nice so Franny drops to the restaurant floor and starts crying. Jen had had it at that point and said, “Arden, stop being mean. Franny stop being so overdramatic” and broke the crayon in two and gave them each half. Both girls looked at their red crayons, then each other and nodded. We had finally reached a peace accord. From that point on everything was hunky dory. The girls colored quietly, ate their pancakes, drank their orange juices. And then it was time to pay. And both girls wanted to bring the check up to the counter. I’d like to say they decided to go up together and pay the bill as a team. But then I’d be lying. Let’s just say there won’t be any sleepovers at our house any time soon.
WHEN IS YOUR CHILD READY FOR A SLEEPOVER?
The title of this piece is really a rhetorical question. I have the answer and it’s “not 5 years old.” At least not an unsolicited sleepover. I mean if your friends are really in a bind for a babysitter and ask you to watch their kid overnight, that’s another story, but when your 5 year old asks on their on volition if their friend can sleepover, just say, “No.” But in either scenario the end result probably would’ve ended up the same for us this past weekend: a disaster of epic proportions.
About 20 months ago Arden had her first sleepover and she didn’t even know it. Jen went into labor in the middle of the night so I called up our closest couple-friends-with-kids, Craig and Erin and had Craig come over and sleep at the house while we went off to have another baby. Arden woke up that morning to find Uncle Craig there, waiting to give her breakfast and a ride to preschool. That night Arden slept at Craig and Erin’s house and got to have her first “official” sleepover with her “best friend and worst enemy” Franny. According to Craig and Erin, Arden was a complete angel (who somehow ended up sleeping with Craig and Erin). I find it hard to believe the “angel” part, but Craig and Erin are too nice to say otherwise. So for the past 20 months the girls have been impatiently waiting for a sleepover reunion…at our house.
We’ve managed to come up with 20 months of excuses for it not to happen, “Franny’s got church in the morning…You’re catching a cold and you don’t want to spread it…Franny needs it to be pitch black in order to sleep.” (Yes, we’re simultaneously staving off a sleepover and creating a neurotic child.) Anyway, I finally gave in on Saturday. We were having Craig and Erin and the kids over for pizza and beer that night so I said, “Why doesn’t Franny sleep over?”
As I just mentioned, Franny and Arden are each other’s best friend and worst enemy. They love each other, get excited to see each other, but when they finally meet, they fight like cats and dogs. So essentially they’re like sisters. In fact they’re only a week apart (we actually planned to get pregnant at the same time as Craig and Erin and it worked out). But the two girls have completely different personalities. Arden’s on the bossy side. Okay, she IS the bossy side. And Franny is, let’s just say, sensitive. If Arden wants to play “kitchen” and Franny doesn’t Arden will scrunch her face and bitch to us that Franny isn’t being nice and upon hearing this Franny will flop to the floor with overdramatic fake tears until someone resolves the issue. Now if Franny wants to, say watch iCarly, and Arden doesn’t, Franny will just stand there like a rock while Arden gets all up in her grill, reading her her Playskool Miranda Rights. This may lead to a little shoving which can sometimes lead to flops to the ground and overdramatic teardom.
During Pizza Time, things were no different. We had to settle at least a dozen disputes, often with the threat of cancelling the sleepover, but unbelievably, no matter how pissed each girl was at the other, they both pleaded with us to not call off the sleepover. We theorized that once Craig and Erin left the girls would calm down because there was no one to run and tattle to. But we were wrong. We set the girls up on the pull out couch in my office downstairs. We put on a movie and gave them some popcorn, but they fought over the snacks, the bedcovers, who kicked who under the sheets, who had more stuffed animals, etc. And when they weren’t bickering they were coming up with new excuses not to go to sleep. Arden: “I need my night light.” Franny, “I need a night light too.” Me, “I need a gun.”
We eventually got the girls down around 11:00 PM after 16 trips to the bathroom and Jen pretending to sleep in between them. By that point it was too late to watch the movie we rented so we just took some Advil and went to bed…until 6:00 AM.
I figured with the girls up so late that they would sleep in. Nope. The whole house was up at 6:00 AM. Including my “Sunday is the only day I get to sleep late” wife. When I offered the girls each a box of those individually packed Kellogg’s cereals there was immediate competition, “I want Frosted Flakes.” “I want Frosted Flakes too.” Me: “There’s only one box.” “Okay, I’ll have Fruit Loops.” “I want Fruit Loops too.” So Jen and I said, “Screw it, we’re going out for pancakes.” We thought the change of venue would loosen things up and kill some time before dropping off Franny. But the antics continued at the restaurant when Franny had the audacity to use the red crayon that Arden had just finished using. So Arden throws a fit and says, “Franny took my crayon” and Franny says, “No I didn’t” and Arden says Franny isn’t being nice so Franny drops to the restaurant floor and starts crying. Jen had had it at that point and said, “Arden, stop being mean. Franny stop being so overdramatic” and broke the crayon in two and gave them each half. Both girls looked at their red crayons, then each other and nodded. We had finally reached a peace accord. From that point on everything was hunky dory. The girls colored quietly, ate their pancakes, drank their orange juices. And then it was time to pay. And both girls wanted to bring the check up to the counter. I’d like to say they decided to go up together and pay the bill as a team. But then I’d be lying. Let’s just say there won’t be any sleepovers at our house any time soon.
Monday, June 21, 2010
HAPPY FATHER'S DAY?
So that greeting card-inspired holiday known as Father’s Day is almost upon us. The holiday where school kids of my generation made their fathers ceramic ashtrays or gave them paisley neckties. Today kids get their fathers PSP and Xbox games (“Just in case dad wants to play with me”) or a DVD of some movie from their youth like “Highlander” or “Caddyshack” that can be found in the $5 bin at Best Buy. While I could watch both of those movies a thousand times it just plain hurts that they’re now considered “classics,” not because they’re timeless, which they are to me, but because they’re old.
Anyway, I was watching an episode of ABC’s “The Middle” the other day, the show where Patricia Heaton plays a Middle American mother, who’s a bit too old to be playing a Middle American mother, and the episode was about Mother’s Day and how Mother’s Day always sucks for her because even though her kids are “attempting” to be nice, she’s still forced to pick up after them and do all the same things she normally does on any other given day. But with the expectations of it being “Mother’s Day” it sucked all the more. But of course by the end of the episode, after her really crappy day, she realized that her family means more to her than a made up holiday.
Being a stay-at-home dad, I pretty much feel the same way about weekends at my house. I watch the kids all week long. I get up at the ass-crack of dawn with the girls, fix them breakfast, make Arden her lunch and then take Arden to school. Then I hang out with Alex for the rest of the day unless it’s a nanny-day and then I get a four-hour reprieve to run errands and do a little writing. And then when everyone’s asleep I do a lot more writing. So when the weekend rolls around I have this unreal expectation that it will be like before Jen and I had kids. Just lounging around the living room all day watching VH1 and maybe doing a little writing before Jen gets up at noon. But now that we have kids the weekends consist of me waking up at the ass-crack of dawn, fixing the girls breakfast and “attempting” to keep them quiet until Jen wakes up. And then I pretty much end up watching them the rest of the day while Jen does all the chores around the house that I’ve neglected due to my laziness and inability to multitask. But the highlight of my weekend is going out to lunch as a family and having someone else actually serve me.
Father’s Day will probably be pretty much the same thing. Though it usually includes a gift certificate to one of my favorite stores and Jen will attempt to let me sleep late, but my body is now programmed to wake up at the ass-crack of dawn (I think that’s actually what my clock says) so it’s a sweet, yet futile gesture. She’ll usually let me write as much as I want, but after an hour or so I’ll feel guilty leaving her with the kids and head upstairs. Then we’ll all go out to lunch at one of our usual spots and there you have it, Father’s Day. So this made me think of what my fantasy Father’ Day would entail…
I wake up early. The kids are still asleep. I fix myself a bowl of cereal, take it down to my office and surf the net for a good hour. Jen gets up with the girls, cooks me a surprise second breakfast of whole wheat pancakes and egg beaters (yes, my fantasy still includes the healthy alternatives since they’re so ingrained in my head) and then she’ll hand me a brand new iPad with a ribbon around it. Then I spend the rest of the morning playing with my new toy and before I know it it’s time for lunch and we head out to an all-you-can-stand buffet. I eat myself sick, but because this is a fantasy, I don’t get sick, I leave pleasantly full. We get home and the nanny is waiting at the door. Why? Because we’ve got tickets to game 7 of the Lakers/Celtics game and the limo will be there in twenty minutes. I kiss the kids goodbye and we head off to the game where we eat a bunch of hotdogs and hot wings and chug a few beers, all with no heartburn after effects. About half way through the event I realize that the guy in the luxury box with us who looks like Harrison Ford is actually Harrison Ford and we end up talking, hitting it off and he offers to fly us home in his private jet. Now that would be a great Father’s Day.
A close second would probably be Jen offering to let me sleep late, seeing what kind of gift Arden made me in school and heading out to a lunch with the family at the Olive Garden.
Originally posted on Parents Ask on June 16, 2010
Anyway, I was watching an episode of ABC’s “The Middle” the other day, the show where Patricia Heaton plays a Middle American mother, who’s a bit too old to be playing a Middle American mother, and the episode was about Mother’s Day and how Mother’s Day always sucks for her because even though her kids are “attempting” to be nice, she’s still forced to pick up after them and do all the same things she normally does on any other given day. But with the expectations of it being “Mother’s Day” it sucked all the more. But of course by the end of the episode, after her really crappy day, she realized that her family means more to her than a made up holiday.
Being a stay-at-home dad, I pretty much feel the same way about weekends at my house. I watch the kids all week long. I get up at the ass-crack of dawn with the girls, fix them breakfast, make Arden her lunch and then take Arden to school. Then I hang out with Alex for the rest of the day unless it’s a nanny-day and then I get a four-hour reprieve to run errands and do a little writing. And then when everyone’s asleep I do a lot more writing. So when the weekend rolls around I have this unreal expectation that it will be like before Jen and I had kids. Just lounging around the living room all day watching VH1 and maybe doing a little writing before Jen gets up at noon. But now that we have kids the weekends consist of me waking up at the ass-crack of dawn, fixing the girls breakfast and “attempting” to keep them quiet until Jen wakes up. And then I pretty much end up watching them the rest of the day while Jen does all the chores around the house that I’ve neglected due to my laziness and inability to multitask. But the highlight of my weekend is going out to lunch as a family and having someone else actually serve me.
Father’s Day will probably be pretty much the same thing. Though it usually includes a gift certificate to one of my favorite stores and Jen will attempt to let me sleep late, but my body is now programmed to wake up at the ass-crack of dawn (I think that’s actually what my clock says) so it’s a sweet, yet futile gesture. She’ll usually let me write as much as I want, but after an hour or so I’ll feel guilty leaving her with the kids and head upstairs. Then we’ll all go out to lunch at one of our usual spots and there you have it, Father’s Day. So this made me think of what my fantasy Father’ Day would entail…
I wake up early. The kids are still asleep. I fix myself a bowl of cereal, take it down to my office and surf the net for a good hour. Jen gets up with the girls, cooks me a surprise second breakfast of whole wheat pancakes and egg beaters (yes, my fantasy still includes the healthy alternatives since they’re so ingrained in my head) and then she’ll hand me a brand new iPad with a ribbon around it. Then I spend the rest of the morning playing with my new toy and before I know it it’s time for lunch and we head out to an all-you-can-stand buffet. I eat myself sick, but because this is a fantasy, I don’t get sick, I leave pleasantly full. We get home and the nanny is waiting at the door. Why? Because we’ve got tickets to game 7 of the Lakers/Celtics game and the limo will be there in twenty minutes. I kiss the kids goodbye and we head off to the game where we eat a bunch of hotdogs and hot wings and chug a few beers, all with no heartburn after effects. About half way through the event I realize that the guy in the luxury box with us who looks like Harrison Ford is actually Harrison Ford and we end up talking, hitting it off and he offers to fly us home in his private jet. Now that would be a great Father’s Day.
A close second would probably be Jen offering to let me sleep late, seeing what kind of gift Arden made me in school and heading out to a lunch with the family at the Olive Garden.
Originally posted on Parents Ask on June 16, 2010
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
LEGGING GO
About five weeks ago Arden broke her leg. She was having a tantrum, flailing about and fell on her foot the wrong way. At first we thought she was faking when she said her leg hurt, but then she said she just wanted to go to bed. It wasn’t quite 6:00 PM.
A day of hospitals and doctors appointments later she had a full leg cast and a prescription for a child walker and wheelchair. Jen and I were beside ourselves. We had a depressed 4-year-old on our hands and we were overwhelmed by the prospect of having to care for a virtually incapacitated pre-schooler in addition to our 18-month old menace. Arden couldn’t even take off her own clothes anymore let alone go to the bathroom by herself. I was carrying her in there 15 times a day. Who knew she peed so much?
When I called Arden’s pre-school to ask if they could make accommodations for Arden the school director initially balked at the idea. That was until I started throwing around terms like “illegal” and “law suit.” We eventually agreed upon a late arrival for Arden (because the kids go upstairs for a morning assembly before coming back down to the classrooms and the director didn’t want her teachers carrying Arden up and down the stairs – reasonable) and an early departure (because as I just mentioned going to the bathroom for Arden was a time-consuming ordeal and her teacher leaves at 4:00 PM so there wouldn’t be enough aftercare workers to take Arden on her bathroom sabbaticals.)
We initially tried to get Arden to use the walker, but thanks to a completely inept physical therapist who tried to train her like a dog, Arden wanted nothing to do with the thing. So we decided to get her a wheelchair, which freaked her out at first, until she tried it. Then she was suddenly liberated. She could wheel around the house and was no longer (completely) dependent upon us. But she was still afraid to go to school. But when she arrived back, that first day, the kids swarmed her. She was now the center of attention. She was the cool kid with a pink cast that they all got to sign. Arden was a 4-year-old rock star.
Amazingly, five weeks in, Arden has remained in the spotlight at school. She gets extra attention from the teachers and the kids make accommodations to hang out with her (“let’s not play on the top of the hill because Arden can’t come up here.”) Arden’s having such a great time she’s actually dreading the ultimate removal of her cast. But I have to admit that after the first few days of taking care of our cast-bound little girl, things weren’t half as bad as we initially thought. In fact, Arden’s overall attitude has changed at home too. She hasn’t had a single tantrum since the incident. It probably doesn’t hurt that every time she starts down the unreasonable/meltdown path we say to her, “Remember what happened the last time you had a tantrum?” And she always hangs her head and says, “I broke my leg.”
About a week and half ago Arden got a shiny new green half-cast. One that she could walk on. At first, like all things, Arden didn’t want to walk. She didn’t want to give up “the chair.” But her doctor said to me, “Just bribe her with a nice toy and she’ll walk.” And just like she said, after we gave Arden a Snow White doll, she was on her feet, cruising along the furniture like a toddler. A day later she was using the walker. Of course she found it more comfortable to put all the pressure on the broken leg instead of the good one, but that’s neither here nor there. Anyway, as of last night Arden started hobbling around the house walker-free, after which she turned to Jen and said, “I finally have my life back.” And she does. We all do.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
THE PASSING OF A GREAT GRANDPARENT
On Sunday evening my grandfather passed away. He was 92 years old. He died from complications due to emphysema. He actually quit smoking, cold turkey, fifty years ago after reading a Reader's Digest letter from a little girl to her mother, begging her to stop smoking so that her mother would always be there for her.
My grandfather was a fighter and he left us on his own terms. He had been suffering for several months and finally decided it was time to let go. So on Sunday morning, with most of his children and grandchildren at his bedside, and the rest of us on the phone, they removed the tubes from his throat so he could say goodbye to everyone. Knowing that it would probably be his last day he asked for his last meal - a "Boston" hotdog and some Crown Royal to wash it down with. He held hands and kissed his wife of 69 years and said goodbye to everyone and then he put on the Red Sox and fell asleep and he was gone.
At the funeral yesterday my father called him "the hero of our family" and he really was. He taught us all how to be better people. How to be better parents. And that's why I'm using this forum to share with you my thoughts on my grandfather. The thoughts I shared at his funeral yesterday...
I can’t really recall the first time I met my grandfather, but I do recall him always being a presence in my life. I remember visiting him at his plumbing shop. I remember his Crown Royals at Oakley Country Club and I remember going to Red Sox games with my father, my grandfather and my great grandfather. I remember taking a solo trip down to Florida when I was eight and going to Lion Country Safari and being terrified as we posed for a picture together with a real lion cub. I still have that picture. And it still makes me smile. I also remember stealing peeks at his Playboy collection and maybe stealing one or two of the actual magazines as well.
It wasn’t until only a couple of years ago when I went down to Florida to see my grandparents that I really got to know him as a person. Even though I was probably 34 or 35 at the time he had always just been “my grandpa,” the great guy who you could do no wrong in his eyes and who would buy you dinner and laugh at your jokes and do whatever I wanted to do. But this time I was a father and we spoke about life. And not just mine. We also talked about his life. I learned things I never knew about him before. Things I never asked about, like his time on the U.S.S. Missouri. And because of my interest he gave me a U.S.S. Missouri hat as a gift this year that I will treasure forever.
My grandfather was from a generation where men were men and they didn’t show too much affection or emotion. And for a while I thought maybe this is where I got that trait from. People who know me know I’m not really a hugger. But about a half dozen years ago my mother pulled me aside and said my grandfather asked her why I never kissed or hugged him or never said, “I love you.” I didn’t have an answer. I just wasn’t the hugging and kissing type of guy. But the next time I saw him I gave him a kiss and a hug. And he didn’t let go right away. And it was then that I realized I was wrong. He was the affectionate and emotional type. It was also then that I realized how much this really meant to him. And every time I saw him after that I gave him a hug and a kiss and every time I spoke to him on the phone I made a point of saying, “I love you.” And every time I did it, I understood exactly how much it meant to him. And this is probably why I’m proud to say I’m a hugger now, okay maybe a better hugger than I used to be. But I know this is why I always tell my kids how much they mean to me. And why I always insist on a hug and kiss before I walk out the door. And that’s a gift I got from my grandfather.
I don’t recall when I met my grandfather, but he’s always been a presence in my life. And he always will be.
Pictured: Me, the girls, my father and my grandfather, last June.
Friday, May 21, 2010
STILL ON HIATUS
Sorry for the lack of posts as of late. I'm about to finish up one project and jump into the next and while this has all been going on Arden broke her leg and now has a full leg cast. Poor kid. And poor Dad. My back is killing me carrying her to the bathroom every fifteen minutes. The kid had a bladder like a camel before the accident and now she has to pee seventeen times a day. The bright side is that thanks to Arden I now have a handy dandy handicap placard hanging from my rearview mirror and for the next three months I can not only park in conveniently placed handicap spaces I can also park at any meter without paying, any green zone for any amount of time I want and I can also park in resident permit areas without restriction. Of course Arden has to be with me. But when isn't she? Anyway, I've got a LOT of stuff to share with you guys when I get back, which will hopefully be very soon. In the meantime, every Wednesday you can find some classic "I Peed On My Kid!" up on Parents Ask.
Friday, May 7, 2010
GONE WRITING
Busy working on a project. Will be back soon with updates on the hell of trying to get your kids into a decent public school in Los Angeles and how Alex now calls me, "Mama."
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