Post Father's Day blues.

Well, "my day" (as I was calling it all day yesterday) is over. It was great - we went out to lunch and the modern day mom was extra nice to me all day. Madame woke up at 6:00 AM (about an hour earlier than normal) so I didn't exactly get to sleep-in (even though my wife tried to let me). She did pop her her fifth tooth as a Father's Day gift, which was a nice surprise.

Then this morning we woke up to find one of our cars stolen. It was the lesser of the two autos and not that huge of a deal, but it still sucks. So most of my morning has been talking with the police and insurance companies, and not thinking up clever blog entries.

There was one thing I did hear yesterday on CBS Sunday Morning in a story about Father's Day that's worth sharing. The single day with the most long distance calls made is Mother's Day. What's the single day with the most collect calls made? Father's Day.

Venti, decaf, no fat, similac.

One Playtex Vent Aire bottle + One half ounce of formula + A little negative pressure in the the bottle caused by some idle sucking = Baby Cappuccino.

Monitoring your kid like a truck driver.

As a brand new father, I'm sometimes amazed at the changes in my personal views about some things, like this article about parents putting devices into automobiles to monitor teen driving (the same monitoring devices trucking companies use to keep track of their drivers). When I was a young adult, or even a few years ago, I would have thought it was a ridiculous invasion of privacy, and that young drivers need to be given responsibility if they are to be expected to take responsibility for their actions. Part of me still believes that, but I definitely see the other point of view too.

I was saying to a friend over dinner the other day, that if I try to take the overwhelming love I feel for my daughter out of the equation, the feeling I'm left with is this weird sense of ownership. Not literally, but a kind of "I'm working so hard on making sure you're going to be the best person you can be, I'll be dammed if I let you you screw it up." She's not screwing anything up of course, she's seven months old, but the older she gets the easier I can imagine the moment when my idea of what she should be doing parting ways with her idea of what she should be doing. Would I put a computer chip into the car that I let her drive to monitor her driving? I'm not sure, but I'm sure she won't like it if I do - just like I wouldn't have liked it. Maybe the toughest part of being a parent isn't working so hard on making sure your kids are the best person they can be, but letting them make sure they are the best person they can be.

Jesus. When did I turn into such a dad?

Parents chip in to keep eye on teenage drivers [Fort Wayne Journal Gazette] (chosen because it doesn't require a freaking subscription to view the article.)

Roll over anxiety.

I’m sure all parents say it, but in my case it's a fact. My baby is very advanced. At almost five months old she’s doing all kinds of new things – eating solid foods, laughing spontaneously, and (almost) sitting up on her own. She can even support her own weight and stand up with her hands on the edge of the couch. She’s a little wobbly and it only lasts for a few moments, but she’s doing it. Like I said, she's advanced, but the one thing she hasn’t figured out yet is rolling over.

It never occurred to me to be concerned about it until the neighbor’s kid came over for a visit. Only a few days older than Madame, he was on his back on the floor, and then rolled right back over onto his back, and then back again onto his belly. Wait a minute. My kid is supposed to be the advanced one. Is something wrong here?

My wife blames it on the lack of “belly time” we give her, though Madame hates it so much it’s not a fun thing for either of us. Every time I put her on her stomach she lifts her head, wiggles her arms and legs, grunts and gets all pissed off. And then when I flip her over on her back she gives me this look like, “What the hell was that for?” No crying, just that look. I can take her crying, even unreasonable screaming, but that look is unnerving.

Anyway, I figure she’s due to roll over on her own any day now, which makes life around the house a little more interesting. She’s not a little meatball you can put down for two seconds and answer the phone anymore. She hasn’t taken a header off of the couch or rolled off the bed yet, but I’m sure in a moment of parental weakness she’ll be right there to flip herself onto the floor. Until then I guess I’ll be putting her on her belly, hoping she gets pissed off enough to roll over onto her back. I can take that look if I have to.

Making mall Santa memories.

What Inever realized before my dad-life was that once you have a kid there are things that you, as an American parent, are obligated to do for your child that you never had to think about before. I’m not talking about sending them to college or making sure they take swimming lessons, but smaller things that aren’t as critical but are still a part of being a kid. Yesterday we took part in one of these small tasks – the Santa visit.

Let me say first that my baby, a whole four and a half months old now, is a genius at getting her photo taken. We dressed her up in her Christmas outfit, waited in line for almost an hour, and when it came time for her to shine, she dazzled. We put her on Santa’s lap, walked behind the camera, told her to smile, and BAM! She lit up the east end of the mall right in front of the Sears like it’s never been lit up before. But I digress…

Everything on the surface was pretty much what I expected, a long line, lots of kids, and a Santa with a real beard. Here are the things I wasn’t expecting:

1. There are three types of kids that go see Santa. The young babies to pre-toddlers (who either smile or freak out uncontrollably with stranger anxiety), the young true believers (who are easily the most fun to watch), and the kids who are way too old to be visiting Santa. It’s this last group that bummed me out, as they were all obviously there because their parents needed that photo of them with Santa so much that they couldn’t let their pre-teen have a little dignity. One dad even yelled at his son, “Come on Wade, SMILE.” Um, hey idiot, maybe your kid can’t smile because he’s too self-conscious about sitting on a stranger’s lap. My wife said that Wade should just close his eyes every time they tried to take a photo until his mom and dad gave up. Unfortunately Wade just smiled and got it over with.
2. There weren’t any candy canes. One thing I remember from doing this when I was a kid was that at the end after you told Santa all the things you wanted, you got a candy cane. We got a "The Original Holiday Classic Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer Available Now on DVD" CDROM instead from Santa, that has holiday games for the kids to play and a fresh AOL install. I guess everything has to be a marketing opportunity nowadays.
3. Even the adults who have children who have no idea what’s going on call him Santa. What else were we supposed to call him? His name is probably Jim or something, but if I don’t call this dude Santa, well then who am I ever going to call Santa?
4. According to Jim Santa, the most popular item for kids was a Nintendo Game Cube. The most surprising item lots of kids were asking for: electric guitars.