I think the last time Daphne and I were able to go out to eat, just the two of us, was back in June. It's not like we haven't tried to have a date night, but stuff just happens.
Last October we both took a personal day off of work so we could celebrate our 10th wedding anniversary. We were going to sleep in as much as we could, drop Char off at day care, and then spend the day shopping and eating. We had the whole day planned out, and then Charlotte woke up with a 103 temperature, and we didn't even leave the house. See? Stuff just happens.
We do occasionally go out to eat, but we're always a trio. It's nice not having to cook or clean up, but I have to have a completely different mind set when we take Char to a restaurant as opposed to eating as a couple. Here's my mental list:
* Ketchup packets are not playthings.
* They are especially not chew toys.
* Ordering a meal that your daughter loved last week guarantees nothing.
* Sneak in a few containers of her favorite crackers. That's probably all she'll eat.
* Possession is 9/10ths of the law. Even if she refuses to eat anything on her plate, it's still her plate and her food. Swipe at your own peril.
* Take three times as many napkins to your table than you think you'll need.
* Small tables are a recipe for disaster, so get the biggest table you can. Otherwise, she'll tip over a huge water glass, and you'll be using all those napkins before the food even arrives.
* Putting an energetic child in a booster seat is like leaving your dog in the back yard with the gate open. Both will escape and you'll run all over trying to catch them.
* Be prepared to apologize to the patrons seated near you.
* Just bringing a child to a restaurant necessitates a 10% increase in your tip.
* By the time Mom gets to eat her own food, it will be cold.
On February 22, we're going to try again. My sister-in-law is coming over to watch Char, and Daphne and I are going to have appetizers at Dos Rios, and then walk over to Fong's for some Chinese pizza.
At least that's the plan. But if stuff just happens, I'll be mentally ready.
Thursday, January 31, 2013
Saturday, January 26, 2013
Friday, January 25, 2013
I Guess it Really is a Happy Meal
On the nights when I have Char to myself, I sometimes treat us to a McDonald's dinner. Last night was the first time the drive-thru gave us a Happy Meal container instead of a Happy Meal sack.
Logically, Char made it into a hat.
To get her to smile for some pictures, I asked Char to say, "Happy Meal!" She shook her head.
I tried, "Say French Fries!" But she refused again.
"Okay," I shrugged, "you say whatever makes you happy."
Charlotte giggled and then yelled, "Chicken Nuggets!" That's the above shot.
PS. When Daphne left for the 8th grade concert last night, Char waited until the garage door closed, and then she whispered, "Dad. Mom's gone. Let's go watch some TV."
And we did. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dY_k1PyRaPg
Logically, Char made it into a hat.
To get her to smile for some pictures, I asked Char to say, "Happy Meal!" She shook her head.
I tried, "Say French Fries!" But she refused again.
"Okay," I shrugged, "you say whatever makes you happy."
Charlotte giggled and then yelled, "Chicken Nuggets!" That's the above shot.
PS. When Daphne left for the 8th grade concert last night, Char waited until the garage door closed, and then she whispered, "Dad. Mom's gone. Let's go watch some TV."
And we did. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dY_k1PyRaPg
Wednesday, January 23, 2013
Catch and Release
Last Saturday morning Daphne's middle school jazz band attended a jazz festival, and Char and I had some time to hang out together. After eating a breakfast of mini pancakes in bed, watching some public TV programming, and reading 12 picture books, I decided to take Char to Goodwill.
She's only been to the store twice, but Charlotte has a blast playing with their toys. While she was moving a plastic lunch in and out of a plastic oven, I spied this chair and hassock.
Honestly, if I was single, this is exactly the kind of thing I would have purchased without thinking twice. $6.99 for both? Load 'em up. They're an ugly mustard color? I don't care. I don't see color all that well, and I love the retro design. With a little upholstery cleaner, an electric lint shaver, and a bottle of Febreze, this set could easily fetch $100 or more in a trendy vintage store. I'm sure of it. I'm also sure this is exactly the kind of thing that kept me single for so long.
So, I thought twice and took out my camera instead of my wallet. Then we left for Culver's to have a real lunch with Mom and her jazz band. While we were biting and stretching Wisconsin Cheese Curds, I decided to show Daphne the picture of my find.
"Hey. Wanna see what I found at Goodwill?" Daphne eyed me suspiciously as I handed the camera across the table.
She studied the screen for a few seconds and asked, "This isn't in the back of the RAV is it?"
"No. I told you we didn't buy anything. We both just played with stuff."
"Oh, " she brightened, "that's good. I'm really glad you two had fun."
"Yup."
See? I'm learning.
She's only been to the store twice, but Charlotte has a blast playing with their toys. While she was moving a plastic lunch in and out of a plastic oven, I spied this chair and hassock.
Honestly, if I was single, this is exactly the kind of thing I would have purchased without thinking twice. $6.99 for both? Load 'em up. They're an ugly mustard color? I don't care. I don't see color all that well, and I love the retro design. With a little upholstery cleaner, an electric lint shaver, and a bottle of Febreze, this set could easily fetch $100 or more in a trendy vintage store. I'm sure of it. I'm also sure this is exactly the kind of thing that kept me single for so long.
So, I thought twice and took out my camera instead of my wallet. Then we left for Culver's to have a real lunch with Mom and her jazz band. While we were biting and stretching Wisconsin Cheese Curds, I decided to show Daphne the picture of my find.
"Hey. Wanna see what I found at Goodwill?" Daphne eyed me suspiciously as I handed the camera across the table.
She studied the screen for a few seconds and asked, "This isn't in the back of the RAV is it?"
"No. I told you we didn't buy anything. We both just played with stuff."
"Oh, " she brightened, "that's good. I'm really glad you two had fun."
"Yup."
See? I'm learning.
Saturday, January 19, 2013
Friday, January 18, 2013
CAT BUS! Cat Bus! kat buth.
When I was looking for Christmas gifts for Charlotte, I thought it might be fun to find some more stuffed toys inspired by the movie Totoro. (see November's "Hey Neighbor" post for my take on the film)
Here's the Catbus. It's one of her favorite characters from the movie.
This toy looked really cool until I saw the price:
$649? Are you kidding me? I've paid less for a month's rent. But thanks for the free shipping.
Then I found this one:
$215.99 and then another $78 for shipping? I could fill a hot tub with used Beanie Babies for that price. What is it with these Totoro toys, anyway? Do those 12 Catbus feet give you back rubs or something?
One more try. This price looked really cool until I saw the toy:
Jeeze, this looks more like something the Catbus would cover up in its litter box. I was done looking for Catbus toys.
In the end, I turned to ESTY and purchased a hand crocheted Totoro hat. I really like that this gift couldn't be purchased in a retail store. The hat wasn't made by a machine, but by a real person who has pride in their work. That's like the difference between receiving a handwritten thank you note and getting a thank you email. Both are nice, but one is much more special.
Not only does the hat look cool, the thick yarn keeps Char's head and ears warm when she's heading out to take a class with the Good Time Gang.
http://www.etsy.com/listing/118932215/totoro-hat-inspired-hand-crochet-baby-to
Here's the Catbus. It's one of her favorite characters from the movie.
$649? Are you kidding me? I've paid less for a month's rent. But thanks for the free shipping.
Then I found this one:
$215.99 and then another $78 for shipping? I could fill a hot tub with used Beanie Babies for that price. What is it with these Totoro toys, anyway? Do those 12 Catbus feet give you back rubs or something?
One more try. This price looked really cool until I saw the toy:
Jeeze, this looks more like something the Catbus would cover up in its litter box. I was done looking for Catbus toys.
In the end, I turned to ESTY and purchased a hand crocheted Totoro hat. I really like that this gift couldn't be purchased in a retail store. The hat wasn't made by a machine, but by a real person who has pride in their work. That's like the difference between receiving a handwritten thank you note and getting a thank you email. Both are nice, but one is much more special.
Not only does the hat look cool, the thick yarn keeps Char's head and ears warm when she's heading out to take a class with the Good Time Gang.
http://www.etsy.com/listing/118932215/totoro-hat-inspired-hand-crochet-baby-to
Tuesday, January 15, 2013
Over the Blue and Into The Gray
Sally: "And it's not the same for men. Charlie Chaplin had kids when he was 73."
Harry: "Yeah, but he was too old to pick them up."
When Harry Met Sally (1989)
Our home was built in 1977. Despite its age, our house's layout features the current architectural fad of an "open concept". If you don't know what that means, watch one episode of any program running on HGTV, and you'll hear "open concept" spoken about 10 times. Daphne thinks "Property Brothers", "Love It or List It", and "House Hunters" would make for good drinking games.
In early 2008 Daphne was watching the movie Knocked Up on TV while I was playing on the computer in the basement. Even though we were in different rooms, if Daphne wanted to tell me something, all she had to do was turn around and talk to me. Because of our open concept, wooden dowels separate the rooms, not walls. After the movie's birth scene, Daphne did want to talk to me.
From the basement I could hear the TV go quiet, and I could then see Daphne squeeze her face between the wood bars. "Brent, I don't think I ever want to have children."
I said, "Okay."
Over the years I have found this to be a pretty good response. Sometimes it's simply easier to submit rather than going through the long process of being broken down into submission. Don't believe me? Watch those same HGTV programs and count how many times the wives eventually win the arguments. Those poor guys don't have a chance.
Besides, I figured Daphne's attitude about having children would probably change. And it did. By July of '09 she was cursing every pregnancy test the turned negative. News stories about the rising teen pregnancy rates infuriated her, and the beginning of Pixar's Up hit too close to home.
Then came New Year's Eve. Daphne had been suspicious of recent changes in her body chemistry, and I had become suspicious of even more recent noises coming from the master bathroom. Then the bathroom door popped open, and Daphne danced her way over to our bed where I was laying. Glowing, she showed me the positive test results. I wish I had been more clever, but all I could muster as I gazed at the second blue line was, "Boy, that's a game changer." Accurate, but not very eloquent.
I'll admit to being a bit scared as I watched my wife twirl around the bedroom. That little blue line on the pregnancy test wasn't the only one that had magically appeared. A new one had been drawn across my life's path, and I had already unknowingly stepped over it. For us there was no going back. If everything went well, I was going to be a dad. Ready or not.
After a couple of weeks I started becoming more comfortable with the thought of becoming a father. When we'd go shopping for baby supplies, I would study other people's children. Why was that child crying? How did his mom calm his screams? Do all kids roll around on the floor in the aisle like that? Why does that girl smell like soup? I had a lot of questions.
I also started noticing the dads who were shopping with these children. Although they came in all shapes and sizes, one common denominator was that they were all younger than me. By a lot. Those younger dads weren't just at the mall. They were at my workplace, the park, and they were in our Mercy birthing classes, too. When Daphne and I attended a breastfeeding class at the hospital, there were about 35 men in the room. Not one other guy looked like he cared about his fiber intake.
According to the current issue of The New Republic magazine, they shouldn't care. "The average American man is between 27 and 28 when he becomes a father." I was 41 when Charlotte was born. No wonder I'm the grayest dad at our playground.
Wooderson: "... I get older, they stay the same age."
Dazed and Confused (1993)
In ten years Charlotte will be 12 years old, and those other dads will be 37. I'll be 53. The teachers at Char's school will say, "Look how nice Charlotte Monson is. She takes her grandfather everywhere."
There are days when I think I should have named this blog "Late in the Game" or "Old Man, New Dad". I don't care if people think George Clooney looks sexy with his thick gray mane, we live in a youth-centric society where the signs of age are viewed as the signs of weakness. I've seen younger dads smirk when I let out an "Uffda" as I strain to lift my daughter four feet off the ground. I've struggled trying to carry her through 100 yards of icy puddled parking lot, only to be easily passed by a dad sporting an ironic beard and actually juggling his four children in the air.
Of course there's no way for me to know what these guys' lives are really like. But when some hipster dad blasts past me on his fixie Schwinn pulling a double wide Burley, I feel like I'm at a bit of a disadvantage. Heck, I don't even have a tattoo.
During these bouts of parental self-consciousness, I mentally review my list of five reasons why I'm a much better dad at 43 than I would have been at 27. This list doesn't compare myself to other people; it compares 1996 Brent to 2013 Brent. Here's how it breaks down:
1. I'm healthier.
When I was 25 I had a roommate who smoked. Within two months I was a smoker, too. I met Daphne a few years later in the Spring, and I promised her I would quit smoking by June 1st, which I did. That was 12 years ago, and I haven't lit up since. I went from smoking Marlboros to running marathons. But I don't think quitting smoking makes me a better person; I think it makes me a stupid person for starting the habit.
2. I have more money.
Daphne and I are light years from being wealthy, but I don't live check to check like I did in my 20s. I drive a safe and reliable vehicle, and our furnace works well. It wouldn't be money I'd want to spend, but if either needed a repair we could swing it. Our refrigerator is always full, and if it's not, I can run to the grocery store without having to review my checking account first.
3. I'm glad to be home.
I use to think staying home on a Friday or Saturday night was akin to social suicide. Standing on a sticky bar floor waiting in line for a pukey bathroom used to be the highlight of my week. Now when I see pictures of people barhopping in the weekly newspapers, I don't even feel a twinge of jealousy. On Friday nights Char goes to bed around 8:30, and it's a big deal if I'm still up after 11:00. I'm still dealing with sticky floors, but spilled milk cleans up pretty quickly.
4. I've grown up.
Sure, I still giggle at body part jokes, and I have my immature moments - most of this blog is a testament to that - but I'm an adult. If I had a baby to care for when I was 27, I would have been a child trying to raise a child.
5. I'm happier.
I can blame Daphne for this one, but she's actually responsible for numbers 1- 4. Interestingly, I can also blame Charlotte for my happiness: http://www.mpg.de/1196914/older_parents_happier?filter_order=L
Okay, that's my list of reassurances. Even rereading it now makes me feel better, but I can only speak for myself.
"To an adolescent, there is nothing in the world more embarrassing than a parent."
Dave Barry
No doubt my daughter will be doubly embarrassed to have such an old dad cheering from the stands, and I'll understand.
But maybe someday after that she'll understand how happy I was just to be there.
Harry: "Yeah, but he was too old to pick them up."
When Harry Met Sally (1989)
In early 2008 Daphne was watching the movie Knocked Up on TV while I was playing on the computer in the basement. Even though we were in different rooms, if Daphne wanted to tell me something, all she had to do was turn around and talk to me. Because of our open concept, wooden dowels separate the rooms, not walls. After the movie's birth scene, Daphne did want to talk to me.
From the basement I could hear the TV go quiet, and I could then see Daphne squeeze her face between the wood bars. "Brent, I don't think I ever want to have children."
I said, "Okay."
Over the years I have found this to be a pretty good response. Sometimes it's simply easier to submit rather than going through the long process of being broken down into submission. Don't believe me? Watch those same HGTV programs and count how many times the wives eventually win the arguments. Those poor guys don't have a chance.
Besides, I figured Daphne's attitude about having children would probably change. And it did. By July of '09 she was cursing every pregnancy test the turned negative. News stories about the rising teen pregnancy rates infuriated her, and the beginning of Pixar's Up hit too close to home.
Then came New Year's Eve. Daphne had been suspicious of recent changes in her body chemistry, and I had become suspicious of even more recent noises coming from the master bathroom. Then the bathroom door popped open, and Daphne danced her way over to our bed where I was laying. Glowing, she showed me the positive test results. I wish I had been more clever, but all I could muster as I gazed at the second blue line was, "Boy, that's a game changer." Accurate, but not very eloquent.
I'll admit to being a bit scared as I watched my wife twirl around the bedroom. That little blue line on the pregnancy test wasn't the only one that had magically appeared. A new one had been drawn across my life's path, and I had already unknowingly stepped over it. For us there was no going back. If everything went well, I was going to be a dad. Ready or not.
After a couple of weeks I started becoming more comfortable with the thought of becoming a father. When we'd go shopping for baby supplies, I would study other people's children. Why was that child crying? How did his mom calm his screams? Do all kids roll around on the floor in the aisle like that? Why does that girl smell like soup? I had a lot of questions.
I also started noticing the dads who were shopping with these children. Although they came in all shapes and sizes, one common denominator was that they were all younger than me. By a lot. Those younger dads weren't just at the mall. They were at my workplace, the park, and they were in our Mercy birthing classes, too. When Daphne and I attended a breastfeeding class at the hospital, there were about 35 men in the room. Not one other guy looked like he cared about his fiber intake.
According to the current issue of The New Republic magazine, they shouldn't care. "The average American man is between 27 and 28 when he becomes a father." I was 41 when Charlotte was born. No wonder I'm the grayest dad at our playground.
Wooderson: "... I get older, they stay the same age."
Dazed and Confused (1993)
In ten years Charlotte will be 12 years old, and those other dads will be 37. I'll be 53. The teachers at Char's school will say, "Look how nice Charlotte Monson is. She takes her grandfather everywhere."
There are days when I think I should have named this blog "Late in the Game" or "Old Man, New Dad". I don't care if people think George Clooney looks sexy with his thick gray mane, we live in a youth-centric society where the signs of age are viewed as the signs of weakness. I've seen younger dads smirk when I let out an "Uffda" as I strain to lift my daughter four feet off the ground. I've struggled trying to carry her through 100 yards of icy puddled parking lot, only to be easily passed by a dad sporting an ironic beard and actually juggling his four children in the air.
Of course there's no way for me to know what these guys' lives are really like. But when some hipster dad blasts past me on his fixie Schwinn pulling a double wide Burley, I feel like I'm at a bit of a disadvantage. Heck, I don't even have a tattoo.
During these bouts of parental self-consciousness, I mentally review my list of five reasons why I'm a much better dad at 43 than I would have been at 27. This list doesn't compare myself to other people; it compares 1996 Brent to 2013 Brent. Here's how it breaks down:
1. I'm healthier.
When I was 25 I had a roommate who smoked. Within two months I was a smoker, too. I met Daphne a few years later in the Spring, and I promised her I would quit smoking by June 1st, which I did. That was 12 years ago, and I haven't lit up since. I went from smoking Marlboros to running marathons. But I don't think quitting smoking makes me a better person; I think it makes me a stupid person for starting the habit.
2. I have more money.
Daphne and I are light years from being wealthy, but I don't live check to check like I did in my 20s. I drive a safe and reliable vehicle, and our furnace works well. It wouldn't be money I'd want to spend, but if either needed a repair we could swing it. Our refrigerator is always full, and if it's not, I can run to the grocery store without having to review my checking account first.
3. I'm glad to be home.
I use to think staying home on a Friday or Saturday night was akin to social suicide. Standing on a sticky bar floor waiting in line for a pukey bathroom used to be the highlight of my week. Now when I see pictures of people barhopping in the weekly newspapers, I don't even feel a twinge of jealousy. On Friday nights Char goes to bed around 8:30, and it's a big deal if I'm still up after 11:00. I'm still dealing with sticky floors, but spilled milk cleans up pretty quickly.
4. I've grown up.
Sure, I still giggle at body part jokes, and I have my immature moments - most of this blog is a testament to that - but I'm an adult. If I had a baby to care for when I was 27, I would have been a child trying to raise a child.
5. I'm happier.
I can blame Daphne for this one, but she's actually responsible for numbers 1- 4. Interestingly, I can also blame Charlotte for my happiness: http://www.mpg.de/1196914/older_parents_happier?filter_order=L
Okay, that's my list of reassurances. Even rereading it now makes me feel better, but I can only speak for myself.
"To an adolescent, there is nothing in the world more embarrassing than a parent."
Dave Barry
No doubt my daughter will be doubly embarrassed to have such an old dad cheering from the stands, and I'll understand.
But maybe someday after that she'll understand how happy I was just to be there.
Sunday, January 13, 2013
Tuesday, January 8, 2013
When Life Imitates Art
Before Charlotte was born, the members of my book club gave us Richard Scarry's Biggest Word Book Ever! as a shower gift. Last year Char really got into it, literally. The book's over two feet tall, and the 14 pages are packed with cartoons and their definitions.
Char would get pretty excited when she could locate an item that you asked her to find. Since I'm a meat guy, I liked having her search for the hot dog car.
"Here's hot dog car!"
Last Sunday, as we pulled into in Hy-Vee's parking lot, I was surprised to see the Oscar Mayer Wienermobile parked in front of the store. But I was nowhere near as surprised as Charlotte, "Heeeey, it's the Hotdog Car! Look Dad, it's the Hotdog Car!"
Despite the bitting wind, we spent several minutes admiring the vehicle and its testament to the beauty of processed meat. I've seen the Wienermobile before, but seeing the vehicle through two-year-old eyes was pretty cool.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OZj3qUQYofQ
PS. Now we have to find a life-size pickle car.
Monday, January 7, 2013
Say That Out Loud
We took Charlotte to Iowa City to visit her Great Grandma last Saturday, and that gave me time to catch up on GGMA's subscription to Our Iowa magazine. This is from the April/ May 2012 issue:
Saturday, January 5, 2013
Wednesday, January 2, 2013
Noteable
A few years ago I was taking our dog Maggie for a walk around our neighborhood. As we passed by a bus stop, I spotted this note left on the sidewalk.
The note was obviously meant for me, so I stooped to pick it up. Here's what was written inside:
Actually, I didn't have any plans for the weekend, but that wasn't why I was smiling. The note wasn't addressed to anybody specific, and it wasn't signed by anyone, either. I immediately realized what a prize I had found. This note was perfect.
That night, right before bedtime, I slipped out to our garage and slipped the folded paper under my car's windshield wiper. Quite often Daphne has to leave for work well before I have to, and I knew she wouldn't miss seeing this note on my car. I've already written about how observant she is, and for once that was going to work to my advantage.
The next morning, still lying in bed, I could hear the garage door rattle and rise. About 10 seconds later I heard the door to the garage slam shut, and footsteps rapidly ascending the stairs. Giggling, I waited for Daphne to burst into the room, which she did.
"What is this?" she demanded, holding the note like a trial lawyer exposing damning evidence.
"That, my friend," I said while raising my fists over my head in triumph, "is COMIC GOLD!"
I explained where I found the note, and how I had planted it the previous night. She admitted it was a pretty good joke. But just pretty good. I thought it was an awesome joke.
Yes, my wife can read me like a book, but I know her pretty well, too.
I explained where I found the note, and how I had planted it the previous night. She admitted it was a pretty good joke. But just pretty good. I thought it was an awesome joke.
Yes, my wife can read me like a book, but I know her pretty well, too.
Tuesday, January 1, 2013
Hide and Seek, Charlotte Style
FYI: That's the inflatable mattress my mom uses when she comes to visit. Char loves playing on that mattress so much we just keep it up over the break.
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