Lately, the Baby has been coming up to me and asking me a very simple, but profound question: "daddy, are you happy?"
I guess it's a feeling that doesn't get evaluated too often; we spend our days just going through the motions and fail to take the time to actually analyze our moods. Some of us are quick to react, get angry, upset or frustrated. Why can't more people be quick to laugh or smile or be quirky?
And then I take a step back and just listen to the Baby - listen to her talk to herself, listen to when she talks to me, listen to her laugh. Most of the time she doesn't even know what she is laughing about, she just knows laughing is fun.
Let her tell you a 'knock, knock' joke:
The Baby, "Knock, knock!"
Me: "Who's there?"
The Baby: "Orange"
Me: "Orange who?"
The Baby: "Ballerina, kitty cat,!" then she proceeds to laugh hysterically.
What the hell is going on in her brain. How does that joke make sense? Ballerina? Kitty cat? What about the orange?
But who cares. She's two. Almost three. And right now all she really knows is that I'm one of her best friends and she wants a purple themed birthday party.
That's simple. And that makes me happy.
Wednesday, February 20, 2013
Thursday, February 14, 2013
Happy Valentine's Day
My freshman year at Texas A&M, I hosted an anti-Valentine's Day internet radio show with my resident adviser from our dorm room using Winamp. We played songs about break ups and hating your girlfriends and stuff like that. My stream got up to an astounding 18 listeners before my computer would crash and I had to reboot and start all over. That was my last Valentine's Day as a single person. It turns out that I had one listener all the way up in Denton who would grow to become my groupie. Here's to my number 1 fan, the Wifey.
The Baby really wasn't feeling Valentine's this morning as she snubbed me of a kiss and a hug; she'll come around. I'll have ice cream.
The Wifey has raised the hypothetical question on how I would feel if the Baby decided that she wanted to be a lesbian. Right now it would be hard to grasp just because the Baby is too busy wearing princess gowns and putting on make up - but I guess that's how we stereotype gays and lesbians and try to cut them from the same cloth. But in the end it doesn't matter what you do or what you look like, who you love is who you love. Except in college when it's cool to experiment.
But that leads me to possibly the best song I have heard in quite awhile - it's from Macklemore & Ryan Lewis called "Same Love" and it's refreshing to have an artist use his talents as the vehicle to promote his moral beliefs and stand true to them. As much as I would love to torment and judge my daughter's future boyfriends, I think I can easily do the same to her girlfriends as well.
The Baby really wasn't feeling Valentine's this morning as she snubbed me of a kiss and a hug; she'll come around. I'll have ice cream.
The Wifey has raised the hypothetical question on how I would feel if the Baby decided that she wanted to be a lesbian. Right now it would be hard to grasp just because the Baby is too busy wearing princess gowns and putting on make up - but I guess that's how we stereotype gays and lesbians and try to cut them from the same cloth. But in the end it doesn't matter what you do or what you look like, who you love is who you love. Except in college when it's cool to experiment.
But that leads me to possibly the best song I have heard in quite awhile - it's from Macklemore & Ryan Lewis called "Same Love" and it's refreshing to have an artist use his talents as the vehicle to promote his moral beliefs and stand true to them. As much as I would love to torment and judge my daughter's future boyfriends, I think I can easily do the same to her girlfriends as well.
Tuesday, February 12, 2013
Expanding the Vocabulary
The Baby has recently incorporated two phrases to her ever-growing arsenal: "but..." and "do you remember?"
The latter isn't as prominent but she does use it in tandem with the former.
On the drive home from day care, the Baby asked me, "I can have ice cream. " to which I responded, "after dinner."
She then promptly replied, "but...but..." and I simply said, "no buts. after dinner."
The Baby grunted and quickly responded with, "but... you said I can have ice cream. do you remember?"
Now I have no idea what in the hell she was talking about but there is no winning an argument with a two year old. They will just repeat the same thing over and over again and eventually start crying. And five minutes later will start randomly singing songs and laughing. Pretty much sounds like the Wifey on her 21st birthday.
In other news, I think we have officially conquered potty training with only a few minor accidents. The Baby woke up in the middle of the night over the weekend and just started saying she had to go pee and off she went.
The only downside is that I have to physically inspect her shit in the toilet and applaud her. I even do a celebration shit dance. It's getting kinda annoying but I guess if it keeps the crap in the toilet and not her underwear, I shouldn't complain too much.
The latter isn't as prominent but she does use it in tandem with the former.
On the drive home from day care, the Baby asked me, "I can have ice cream. " to which I responded, "after dinner."
She then promptly replied, "but...but..." and I simply said, "no buts. after dinner."
The Baby grunted and quickly responded with, "but... you said I can have ice cream. do you remember?"
Now I have no idea what in the hell she was talking about but there is no winning an argument with a two year old. They will just repeat the same thing over and over again and eventually start crying. And five minutes later will start randomly singing songs and laughing. Pretty much sounds like the Wifey on her 21st birthday.
In other news, I think we have officially conquered potty training with only a few minor accidents. The Baby woke up in the middle of the night over the weekend and just started saying she had to go pee and off she went.
The only downside is that I have to physically inspect her shit in the toilet and applaud her. I even do a celebration shit dance. It's getting kinda annoying but I guess if it keeps the crap in the toilet and not her underwear, I shouldn't complain too much.
Wednesday, February 6, 2013
Scared Shitless
I guess it would be easiest to bluntly start off with the basis of this post. The Wifey had a miscarriage.
It was only last Thursday when the Wifey told me the Baby was going to become a big sister. And the last week has been a whirlwind of emotions. But the most prominent feeling was that I was scared shitless.
I guess we could say the pregnancy itself was a surprise. If I could literally lay out everything that was on my mind, being a father again would be the extreme last thing. It would be the fat, un-athletic kid that gets picked for football. In fact, if someone were to put a percentage on the possibility of raising another child, it would be .01%.
The Wifey had an IUD (Mirena) implanted back when the Baby was born. Basically it's supposed to be this awesome form of birth control where it definitively eliminates the chance of me ever yelling the phrase, "what do you mean you happened to forget to take your pill this week?" And for almost three years, it was perfect.
But when the Wifey told me she was pregnant, I didn't know what to think. Maybe it was the initial shock but I wasn't angry. I wasn't sad that my social life was over again. I guess I'm such a strong believer in that everything happens for a reason, I took it as a sign. Maybe my indifference towards having another kid again solidified my acceptance by fate intervening and making the decision for me.
And over the weekend, the Wifey and I adjusted our life plans to accommodate the fourth. We even dubbed the little thing 'the Fighter' since it defied that .01% possibility and pulled a Danny Ocean and broke into the vault that held the Wifey's eggs. We discussed room arrangement, we went over how/when we would make the announcement. We even analyzed how the Baby would react. We prepared ourselves that the Fighter would be the exact opposite of the Baby. We braced ourselves for the Baby's extreme jealous rage for her mom and her toys.
It also happened that on Monday two of my co-workers announced they were expecting as well. And I guess I took that as a sign that everything would be okay. But the improbable fact that the Wifey was pregnant with an IUD implanted, it was an even higher improbability that the pregnancy would even be feasible. But yet we planned for the best. Or at least I did.
I could tell the Wifey was planning for the worst. I could tell her excitement was merely clouded by my excitement. Maybe she was only excited because I did want another kid. But I knew she was aware of the risks. The Wifey has always been a feverish researcher and I just blindly trust her. And I knew she was only cherry picking the good news and sugar coating the bad news. The Wifey went to the doctor every day to check her levels and due to the rarity of the pregnancy, her doctors proceeded with caution. And then today the Wifey texted me with the bad news, a simple " :( ".
I asked her how she felt and she simply said "sad." The same person who has never been short on emotion or never been afraid to tell me how she feels whether I care or not was just simply sad. And then I knew the extent of the emotional bond that was already established after only a few days; after only a few weeks of the Fighter existing.
I have had friends who have been much, much further along in their pregnancy and experienced the tragedy of a miscarriage so I can't fathom the magnitude of their depression. I've only known about the existence of the Fighter for a few days. But it's sad. It's tremendously heart wrenching. But it's merely an ounce of what my wife is actually feeling. And yet we sit on the couch watching television like nothing has happened. We sit here both knowing how scared shitless we truly are.
It was only last Thursday when the Wifey told me the Baby was going to become a big sister. And the last week has been a whirlwind of emotions. But the most prominent feeling was that I was scared shitless.
I guess we could say the pregnancy itself was a surprise. If I could literally lay out everything that was on my mind, being a father again would be the extreme last thing. It would be the fat, un-athletic kid that gets picked for football. In fact, if someone were to put a percentage on the possibility of raising another child, it would be .01%.
The Wifey had an IUD (Mirena) implanted back when the Baby was born. Basically it's supposed to be this awesome form of birth control where it definitively eliminates the chance of me ever yelling the phrase, "what do you mean you happened to forget to take your pill this week?" And for almost three years, it was perfect.
But when the Wifey told me she was pregnant, I didn't know what to think. Maybe it was the initial shock but I wasn't angry. I wasn't sad that my social life was over again. I guess I'm such a strong believer in that everything happens for a reason, I took it as a sign. Maybe my indifference towards having another kid again solidified my acceptance by fate intervening and making the decision for me.
And over the weekend, the Wifey and I adjusted our life plans to accommodate the fourth. We even dubbed the little thing 'the Fighter' since it defied that .01% possibility and pulled a Danny Ocean and broke into the vault that held the Wifey's eggs. We discussed room arrangement, we went over how/when we would make the announcement. We even analyzed how the Baby would react. We prepared ourselves that the Fighter would be the exact opposite of the Baby. We braced ourselves for the Baby's extreme jealous rage for her mom and her toys.
It also happened that on Monday two of my co-workers announced they were expecting as well. And I guess I took that as a sign that everything would be okay. But the improbable fact that the Wifey was pregnant with an IUD implanted, it was an even higher improbability that the pregnancy would even be feasible. But yet we planned for the best. Or at least I did.
I could tell the Wifey was planning for the worst. I could tell her excitement was merely clouded by my excitement. Maybe she was only excited because I did want another kid. But I knew she was aware of the risks. The Wifey has always been a feverish researcher and I just blindly trust her. And I knew she was only cherry picking the good news and sugar coating the bad news. The Wifey went to the doctor every day to check her levels and due to the rarity of the pregnancy, her doctors proceeded with caution. And then today the Wifey texted me with the bad news, a simple " :( ".
I asked her how she felt and she simply said "sad." The same person who has never been short on emotion or never been afraid to tell me how she feels whether I care or not was just simply sad. And then I knew the extent of the emotional bond that was already established after only a few days; after only a few weeks of the Fighter existing.
I have had friends who have been much, much further along in their pregnancy and experienced the tragedy of a miscarriage so I can't fathom the magnitude of their depression. I've only known about the existence of the Fighter for a few days. But it's sad. It's tremendously heart wrenching. But it's merely an ounce of what my wife is actually feeling. And yet we sit on the couch watching television like nothing has happened. We sit here both knowing how scared shitless we truly are.
Monday, December 17, 2012
Santa: Still the Scariest Man Alive
Christmas time is here again and it was another trip to see Northpark Santa. We arrived early, got our number (#68) and I proceeded to lose that number. We were bummed. We had already been at the mall for two hours and now we lost our ticket. Fortunately, the nice people taking photos happened to have an extra number (#92) and we were able to get our photos taken within the hour, rather than come back after 6pm. Hopefully karma makes a visit to the person who found our ticket and used it rather than turn it in.
As the tradition continues, here is the Baby and her visit:
We also took time to play in the courtyard and the Baby posed as creepy Scrooge.
The Baby and I also took a visit to celebrate her niece's third birthday. As usual, the Baby was her shy self but she warmed up once all the kids were there. They pretty much chased the one boy around the house.
We'll see how Christmas turns out this year. Hopefully the Baby can enjoy the fun in gift giving and ripping open presents.
As the tradition continues, here is the Baby and her visit:
We also took time to play in the courtyard and the Baby posed as creepy Scrooge.
The Baby and I also took a visit to celebrate her niece's third birthday. As usual, the Baby was her shy self but she warmed up once all the kids were there. They pretty much chased the one boy around the house.
We'll see how Christmas turns out this year. Hopefully the Baby can enjoy the fun in gift giving and ripping open presents.
Friday, November 2, 2012
Dresses, Gowns, & Tutus
Maybe a few weeks ago I was watching football on Sunday and the Baby ran up to me and brought me a ball and wanted to play catch. She can't catch worth a damn but the fact that she wanted to throw a ball around kinda got me thinking how cool it would to have someone else in the family who was willing to do athletic things. I tried to teach the Wifey to play tennis and she swears I was the meanest tennis coach ever. I thought I was pretty good but one lesson later she since hasn't picked up her tennis racquet.
The Wifey will agree that I am fairly competitive - we once played on a co-ed soccer team at the local Jewish Community Center and I thought it would be fun to write up weekly strategy emails and hand out player of the week awards. Reflecting back on that, I guess I am pretty crazy. So it would probably be in my daughter's best interest that if she ever decided to play any sports that I restrict myself to full-time spectator status.
But anyways, after cheering on some touchdowns with the Baby, I thought it would be nice to have a tomboyish daughter.
That thought lasted about a day. The Baby was soon introduced to princess gowns and tutus. And it was over. It was very over.
As soon as the Baby comes home she will rip off her clothes and put on a dress and twirl. It's a chore to keep the Baby from leaving the house in her faux wedding dress. Necklaces and heels, I am overwhelmed with girly stuff.
Hopefully it's just a phase and her extreme girly-ness will reach critical mass and I could have a normal child.
Or maybe she is destined to just be a princess.
The Wifey will agree that I am fairly competitive - we once played on a co-ed soccer team at the local Jewish Community Center and I thought it would be fun to write up weekly strategy emails and hand out player of the week awards. Reflecting back on that, I guess I am pretty crazy. So it would probably be in my daughter's best interest that if she ever decided to play any sports that I restrict myself to full-time spectator status.
But anyways, after cheering on some touchdowns with the Baby, I thought it would be nice to have a tomboyish daughter.
That thought lasted about a day. The Baby was soon introduced to princess gowns and tutus. And it was over. It was very over.
As soon as the Baby comes home she will rip off her clothes and put on a dress and twirl. It's a chore to keep the Baby from leaving the house in her faux wedding dress. Necklaces and heels, I am overwhelmed with girly stuff.
Hopefully it's just a phase and her extreme girly-ness will reach critical mass and I could have a normal child.
Or maybe she is destined to just be a princess.
Friday, October 26, 2012
RIP BIG TEX
First off, everyone should take some time to check out http://eatthebabies.com/; it's not my site but a random guy who took the time out to buy the domain name. Something my literary agent should have done. But he has some funny stuff on his website and worth checking out- I had some good laughs. Keep up the good work site title twin.
Had we known that Big Tex was going to become a towering inferno with a creepy waving hand, we might have spent more time at the State Fair of Texas. Here is a nice little song in memory of Big Tex:
The Baby had a blast year and we hoped she would relive her crazy antics. For some odd reason, I always remember the Baby having the most grandiose time; jovial and laughing the entire time. Not being a terrible two bitch. This year, she was pretty well behaved.
We took the rail to the park because we're trying to be green and it's cheaper than the $16 parking. We've ridden on the rail before with Baby and she didn't do anything special but I guess she is at the point in her life where everything is cool.
She would watch the scenery buzz right by and just be astonished. Unfortunately the train ride was so much fun she didn't want to get off and threw a tantrum but all would be well as soon as we stepped in she was back to her normal self.
The day started off with an order or nachos for me and deep fried chocolate covered strawberries for the Wifey. The Baby loves chocolate. Absolutely loves it. If her fingers could always be covered in it, she would never stop licking her fingers. Our first photo op was the obligatory fountain picture.
Our first stop was the car show so the Baby could play in the cars. We probably weren't well liked by the car people but the Baby had a blast. For some reason she only picked blue and red cars.
She wasn't as interested in the dog show - which is sad because that is our yearly tradition to see the three legged dog splash into the pool. We left and went to Big Tex. Our last photo before Big Tex would experience spontaneous combustion.
The next stop was the kid's farm thing. Usually we breeze right through it but this year the Baby was actually interested in performing the tasks at hand. Feeding the chickens, milking the cow, riding the tractor.
We moved on to the petting zoo. The Baby has no fear. She would just shove her animal feed through the gate so the animals would eat. The Wifey was worried she would come out with one less finger.
The family even decided to go to the kid's rides and see what all she could ride. Unfortunately she is under 36inches in height so we didn't have many options. Our only choice was sitting inside a big, spinning bear. The Wifey was terrified because of the machine was creaking and making weird noises but the Baby absolutely loved it. Next year is going to be even better; hopefully she'll be tall enough to ride the rides herself. The Baby is such a thrill seeker.
Our day ended soon afterwards and the Baby was passed out on the train. A pretty successful trip to the fair.
RIP Big Tex. Circa 1951 - 10/19/2012
Had we known that Big Tex was going to become a towering inferno with a creepy waving hand, we might have spent more time at the State Fair of Texas. Here is a nice little song in memory of Big Tex:
The Baby had a blast year and we hoped she would relive her crazy antics. For some odd reason, I always remember the Baby having the most grandiose time; jovial and laughing the entire time. Not being a terrible two bitch. This year, she was pretty well behaved.
We took the rail to the park because we're trying to be green and it's cheaper than the $16 parking. We've ridden on the rail before with Baby and she didn't do anything special but I guess she is at the point in her life where everything is cool.
She would watch the scenery buzz right by and just be astonished. Unfortunately the train ride was so much fun she didn't want to get off and threw a tantrum but all would be well as soon as we stepped in she was back to her normal self.
She wasn't as interested in the dog show - which is sad because that is our yearly tradition to see the three legged dog splash into the pool. We left and went to Big Tex. Our last photo before Big Tex would experience spontaneous combustion.
The next stop was the kid's farm thing. Usually we breeze right through it but this year the Baby was actually interested in performing the tasks at hand. Feeding the chickens, milking the cow, riding the tractor.
We moved on to the petting zoo. The Baby has no fear. She would just shove her animal feed through the gate so the animals would eat. The Wifey was worried she would come out with one less finger.
The family even decided to go to the kid's rides and see what all she could ride. Unfortunately she is under 36inches in height so we didn't have many options. Our only choice was sitting inside a big, spinning bear. The Wifey was terrified because of the machine was creaking and making weird noises but the Baby absolutely loved it. Next year is going to be even better; hopefully she'll be tall enough to ride the rides herself. The Baby is such a thrill seeker.
Our day ended soon afterwards and the Baby was passed out on the train. A pretty successful trip to the fair.
RIP Big Tex. Circa 1951 - 10/19/2012
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