tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-64338230381346054722011-04-11T11:35:16.825-04:00Written by a Stay-at-home DadSince the birth of my son I have noticed that parenting magazines are almost always strictly for mothers. But, what about us dads?Blogger Dad Perrea90http://www.blogger.com/profile/16951480388151932468perrea90@yahoo.comBlogger72125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6433823038134605472.post-75824299100411490822011-04-11T11:18:00.001-04:002011-04-11T11:35:16.848-04:002011-04-11T11:35:16.848-04:00Why Did You Become Someone's Parent?<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Have you ever been out and about and watched other people interact with their children who obviously don’t really want them? You know who I am talking about it’s those moms and dads who are constantly yelling at their kids in the store when they really aren’t doing anything wrong or even worse those parents in Walmart who tell their kids that they are worthless or even worse. Every time I see things like that I always wonder why even have kids if you never wanted them? <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Well, the answer came to me one evening when I was chatting with my wife. She said, “People really only become parents for one of two reasons. They either really want to have children or they think that having children is expected of them.” When you put it that way it is almost like they think they have no choice. How terrible is that? <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Well, I have thought about what my honey bear said. (By the by I usually call my wife honey bear or Woobie Woo or something equally sicky sweet) You know what? What she said really makes sense to me. Most of the people I know have kids because they really wanted them, but I am sure that there a few people that had a kid because they thought that was what married people were supposed to do or something. But, what about the people who didn’t think about children as a possible side effect before they started “bumpin’ uglies?” We all know that that happens, and it probably happens a lot, but that doesn’t mean that you are going to be a bad parent if it happens to you. In fact, I firmly believe that how you become a parent has little to do with what kind of a parent a person is. It all depends on whether or not you love your kids and can take care of them. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">So, there are really 3 different reasons that people become preggers and have babies; they either really want to have a baby; think that they are supposed to have a baby; or they don’t think about it at all. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Honestly, I believe that no matter what the circumstances were when my son arrived in this world I would love him to pieces. Somehow, he just makes our lives a little more complete, a little better. You know, my wife and I spent a lot of time thinking about him and what he would be like even before we started trying to conceive. We planned and planned until we finally couldn’t wait any longer, so we were one of the types that definitely thought about it before we had the little man, but did we really want him or did we have him because it was expected of us? Well, of course we really wanted him! The wait for him nearly broke our hearts, but believe me it was worth it. Neither my wife nor I am the type to do something as big as have a baby because it is expected of us. We had our little man because we wanted him dearly. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Now, that doesn't mean that the people who didn't plan their babies or the people who had their kids because that is what they thought they were supposed to do don't love their kids just as much as I love mine. It just means that the impetus for having their baby was different, nothing else. I just find it interesting to think of the various reasons of why people have children, and I like to categorize things. It amuses me. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Now I'd like you to ask yourself this question. If you have kids what made you decide to become someone's parent? <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
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</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6433823038134605472-7582429910041149082?l=advicefordads.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Blogger Dad Perrea90http://www.blogger.com/profile/16951480388151932468perrea90@yahoo.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6433823038134605472.post-14740965607752756562011-04-05T12:14:00.000-04:002011-04-05T12:14:00.494-04:002011-04-05T12:14:00.494-04:00Unsolicited Advice<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I have often wondered where some people get the misconception that experience equals knowledge and expertise. It seems like whenever I go out anywhere alone with the little man somebody says “Trust me I have like 6 kids. I <i>know</i> what I am talking about.” But, most often their advice is so off the wall insane that it is utterly useless. In fact, it is often so bad that it makes me wonder how their kids survived thus far.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Also, I am never going to listen to anyone who has six kids anyway because they are probably insane, and if those 6 children are running around a grocery store wreaking havoc forget about it! To even think about having six children you’d have to be crazy. It’s just too many, and just because you have six unruly little bastards doesn’t make you an authority on child rearing! I guess I am just getting a little fed up with people pestering me about how I interact with my son when I am out in public. Maybe I’m too sensitive or a little too harsh on other people. I don’t know, but, nonetheless, I am tired of it.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Yesterday, I went to the grocery store, and like always I was playing with the little man. I can’t help it. I love to play with him. Anyway, I was tickling him and kissing on him making him giggle and squeal. It was awesome! We were having a great time. Then this gigantic woman with scads of children made a bee line over to me while I was ordering lunch meat from the deli counter. At first, she was telling me how beautiful my son was. That didn’t bother me, but she continued to tell me that I was teaching him to misbehave by playing with him in the store. She said, “You’ll have to trust me because I have six kids. I know what I am talking about. If you play with that baby like that he will never learn to respect you when you are out in public.” How the hell does that make any sense?!<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I looked around and watched her kids climbing on the shelves and running around and screaming, and asked “Is that where you went wrong?”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">“Never. I would never play with my kids like that in public!” She said<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">After she said that, I pointed to her misbehaving children and said, “Well, maybe you <i>should</i> have!”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I was pretty torked. There is nothing worse than receiving unsolicited advice from a stranger on how to parent <i>your</i> kid. I know that she was just trying to help, but she wasn’t making any sense, and to be frank, I am a little sick of random people coming up to me only to tell me how I should parent my baby. What I really want to know is how does playing with your infant in public teach them to be disrespectful when they are older? Is there a difference between private and public play? Am I missing something here? It just doesn’t make any sense, which is precisely why I think that woman was most likely insane due to having too many children. I don’t even know why I am so torked about it.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Anyway, after I calmed down in a few minutes I began to wonder if I <i>was</i> doing something wrong. I back tracked a little and determined that all I was doing before she confronted me was either saying “Uh oh! Daddy’s a tickle monster!” while I tickled the little man’s ribs and feet or saying “Now daddy’s a kissy monster!” and then I would kiss his cheeks and forehead. What is wrong with doing that in a grocery store? <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I don’t know. Seems rather harmless to me.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The other thing that continues to bother me is why on earth would anybody go up to a complete stranger and tell them that they are parenting their kids wrong. I could understand intervening if somebody was actively hurting their child, but other than that why bother? What good is it really going to do? No one <i>ever </i>listens to advice that they don’t ask for. So what made her think that I would care about what she had to say? Again, I believe that she was crazy and had some sort of god complex or something. I wanted to tell her that if she going to offer unsolicited advice she should at least make sure that she was good at what she was offering advice about because it appeared to me that she was a pretty pathetic parent. I mean really. Who allows their children to climb store shelves and run around a store like that? I don’t care if you do have six kids. That is no excuse. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6433823038134605472-1474096560775275656?l=advicefordads.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Blogger Dad Perrea90http://www.blogger.com/profile/16951480388151932468perrea90@yahoo.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6433823038134605472.post-81328404956741544332011-04-01T10:17:00.003-04:002011-04-01T10:52:33.312-04:002011-04-01T10:52:33.312-04:00It's Confirmed. I'm a Fatty!<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I am in a quandary. As parents we all try to teach our children that ever body is different and that it is good thing to be different. We try to teach our kids not to be hateful or hurtful to others because of these differences, whether they are visible or not, but at the same time we want them to be healthy and average in appearance so they won't get picked on or have other hooligans make them feel bad about themselves. I guess what I really mean is that we don’t want our kids to be fat and be made to feel bad about it really. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The reason I bring this up is because at my last doctor’s visit I had confirmation that I was indeed fat. Apparently, I wasn't surprised enough, which got me a lecture on what being a fatty could mean. I stopped listening up until the point where I was sure he said something about being refused admittance to the all you can eat buffets. That would suck! </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Seriously though, what my good doctor, who I really like, failed to realize is that I already knew I was a fatty. I didn't need his confirmation. I am just not that worried about it. I am fairly happy with who I am, and I don't believe that there is anything wrong with being fat. Apparently, I am wrong to think like this though. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">In fact, I am so wrong about the gravity of this situation, which is fairly strong because I am a huge fatty, that my good doctor wrote me a letter and sent it through the mail as a friendly little reminder to me that I was fat. So, in response I did what I know best. I ate it! Because screw him that's why! No, I didn't really eat the letter, but I did think to myself, "Thank you, but I am not sure that I needed a reminder doctor man. I don't think that my fatness is something that I am likely to forget somehow. But, I guess you never know."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Anyway, now I am trying to lose weight in earnest and I am hoping that I can do it before the little man starts asking questions. Well, really all I am doing differently is cutting out all the snacking I do, which isn't really a big deal. But, now I am wondering how I am going to tell my son that there are all sorts of different people and we shouldn’t judge anyone on their appearance but on their actions when I am trying to change my appearance because a doctor told me that I am morbidly obese? I am not even really sure why I am trying when my doctor even said that my obesity didn’t necessarily mean that I am unhealthy. He really said that I might feel better if I was thinner. I think he really meant that I would be better to look at if I was thinner, but maybe I was reading too much into it. He assured me that wasn't what he meant at all, but would be true all the same. You see that is why I like my new doctor so much! He has a sense of humor! You don't find that in a lot of doctors. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Anyway, it may be true that I would feel better if I lost weight , but I am pretty sure that I don't feel bad because I am fat. I feel bad because I have a genetic disease that makes me feel sick <i>a lot</i> of the time. I admit I also have high blood pressure that may be caused by my extraordinary fatness, but my doctor said that there was a chance that it wasn't because of my obesity at all. It might be genetic or something. Either way, losing some weight wouldn't hurt.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Back to my real predicament. What I need to know is should I teach my son that people of all shapes and sizes are fine and deserve respect because there really is no normal when it comes to appearance, or do I teach him that it is ok for people to look different as long as they aren’t fat because fat is gross and probably unhealthy? It isn't hard to tell which I am going to teach to my baby boy because a person's weight is really no means of determining their overall health,</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> and I am surely not going to allow my son to think poorly of someone just because they are heavy. How superficial is that? Besides, I would never want my son, or anyone really, to feel bad because of their weight or how they look. That just isn't right. If you are happy the way you are why should anyone else care? It's none of their business.</span><br />
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</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6433823038134605472-8132840495674154433?l=advicefordads.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Blogger Dad Perrea90http://www.blogger.com/profile/16951480388151932468perrea90@yahoo.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6433823038134605472.post-69167609624190976472011-03-24T12:30:00.001-04:002011-03-24T15:53:37.691-04:002011-03-24T15:53:37.691-04:00What a Handful!<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">It has occurred to me that my little man is really a monster prankster. I have said this before, but now it is really starting to dawn on me just how true it is. He just never ceases to surprise me with his phenomenal sense of humor. I mean, he sets me up for a joke all the time. This is more than him screaming in my face to wake me up and trying to run me over with his Choo choo train. His pranks are getting more and more complicated. It is getting to the point where I don’t necessarily see them coming anymore. How sad is it that I am getting duped by a toddler?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Let me tell you how I woke up from our ritual morning nap today. Like usual he crawled up in my face and screamed, “Hey Da!!” But, when I feigned surprise and jumped awake the little monster pretended to be asleep and act like nothing happened. The only thing that gave him away was the fact that he was giggling maniacally with his eyes closed. I couldn’t believe it! How in earth is my baby boy coming up with this stuff?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Well, as it turns out I pretend to be asleep quite often at night when I want the little mighty mite to be asleep as well. So, that would explain why he would pretend to be asleep, and it just makes sense to combine the pretending to be asleep with the daily scaring me awake together. I guess what really amazes me is that my baby boy is always coming up with new jokes to play on me. Recently, he has been pretending to be thirsty and when I try to give him some water he squeaks out a no and laughs at me as he runs away. His other newest joke is to start dancing and beckon me to join him, but when I do join him he will sit down and smirk evilly at me. But, his newest and most alarming prank he pulls is the one where he waits until my back is turned and he drops something that sounds like he has fallen. When I hurry over to see if he is alright he is always laughing with such pride! Yesterday, he pulled that prank on me a number of times, and each time I had to go and make sure he was alright. The worst part of it is that I can’t reason with him and tell him that eventually I am going to stop believing him. I mean how do give a one year old the whole “the boy who cried wolf” talk? <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The answer to that is you can’t, and you can’t really yell at a one year old either. Well, maybe you can, but I can’t. Actually, I am quite thrilled that he seems to have such a strong sense of humor. I just wish that I wasn’t the butt of all his jokes. On second thought, I don’t mind all that much. About the only thing that I really wish I had was a way to watch him while letting him be independent simultaneously. Don’t get me wrong it isn't like I am ignoring him or anything. I am always in the same room with him, but I don’t like the feeling that I am always on top of him. I feel like I am constantly saying, “Oh no, don’t put that in your mouth!” or saying, “What are you doing?!” I guess what I am really trying to say is that it is a little overwhelming at times keeping up with my little monster. What a handful! </span><o:p></o:p></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6433823038134605472-6916760962419097647?l=advicefordads.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Blogger Dad Perrea90http://www.blogger.com/profile/16951480388151932468perrea90@yahoo.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6433823038134605472.post-28343419020565904252011-03-21T13:21:00.002-04:002011-03-21T13:21:47.558-04:002011-03-21T13:21:47.558-04:00Making Hot Sauce With my Baby Boy.<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">For at least a few hours of every day I encourage the little man to create something or do something creative or imaginative with me. Usually, we either build with his blocks, draw on some paper, dance, act out the stories of his favorite books, or we play with his train set and make new set ups. The possibilities are virtually endless. There is always something that we can do. Today the little mighty mite chose cooking as the daily activity. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I knew that he really wanted to cook something today because he kept running to the pots and pulling them out and then he would run and grab some cans out of the cupboard. Without realizing it, he ended up compiling most of the necessary ingredients I use to make a low salt/salt free hot sauce it all depends on how you like it. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Anyway, I noticed that he had my last six Poblana Chiles, a can of diced tomatoes, lime juice, my crushed red pepper, and he managed to grab an onion from somewhere. After looking at all this, I asked, “Are you trying to tell me that you would like to cook something with me today?” His reply was a shrieking laugh, which I understood as a yes. So, I grabbed the last of my cherished Habaneros and a 7 or 8 cloves of garlic.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Now it was time for the hard part of our cooking experiment. We had to somehow prepare his ingredients and mine without letting him get hurt. I decided that he wasn’t allowed to handle the peppers at all because they were too hot for a one year old to touch. I was afraid that he would rub his eyes or something. He was also banned from using the knives for obvious reasons and the stove. Well, to include him I ended up striping the little man down to his knickers. Then I pulled out a huge mixing bowl and threw in the olive oil, lime juice, tomatoes, and sautéed onions and garlic once they had cooled. Then I placed the bowl on the floor and told him that I needed help mixing it all together if he wanted to help. Of course, he wanted to help. He started to immediately splash around and mix the ingredients. Luckily the bowl was just big enough that he didn’t make a huge mess or anything, and as he did that I charred the peppers.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">After that was all done, I asked the little man to go a grab me two pots, one for the un-peppered sauce and one for the hot sauce. Well, he ended up bringing me all the pots and pans that we own. It was quite cute really. Well, I ladled out about a cup of the liquid into one pot and the rest went into the other. At this point, I added the scorched peppers to the one pot and started cooking down the mixture, letting the little man carefully stir both pots once every 2 minutes. Once both mixtures were cooked down and cooled I let him watch as I poured his sauce into the blender. Then I asked him to push the button on the blender, which was a mistake because our blender was too loud and scared him. He ended up watching me blend his sauce from a safe distance in the next room. Then I poured his sauce into a bowl while I blended and canned the hot sauce. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">It was at this point that the little mighty mite started getting really excited. He just couldn’t wait to try his creation, and neither could I. I had originally meant to make some fish and rice to put the sauce on for him, but that didn’t happen. I let him taste a bit of the sauce on some white bread and that was the end of it. There was going to be no more waiting. So, for his second breakfast my baby had bread with his very own red sauce. I had meant to save some for his lunch, but he ended up eating it all at that one sitting. I couldn’t believe it! <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">You know, the entire time that the little man and I were cooking and playing in the kitchen I couldn’t think of a time when I ever had more fun. And you know what? The sauce we made was probably the best tasting sauce that I had ever had a part in making! But, what made the whole experience most satisfying was seeing how proud my baby boy was afterwards. His little eyes were sparkling while he giggled and smiled, eating his very first culinary creation. It’s times like that that make me eager to see what the next day will bring. I can’t wait for our next cooking adventure! <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6433823038134605472-2834341902056590425?l=advicefordads.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Blogger Dad Perrea90http://www.blogger.com/profile/16951480388151932468perrea90@yahoo.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6433823038134605472.post-88159644974313013372011-03-18T12:37:00.002-04:002011-03-18T12:49:20.256-04:002011-03-18T12:49:20.256-04:00Parenting: The Game You Can't Afford to Lose!<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I have learned something very important in the last few days, and that is that Sesame Street is truly addictive. My son and I were watching it, and I actually caught myself watching it and paying attention to it too. That's crazy! </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Normally, when we have the television on it is pretty much background noise because the little man can’t sit still all that long, but with Sesame St. it was different. He actually got mad at me when I tried to play with him, which of course made me worry that he was becoming a couch tater, so I turned off the T.V. Boy what a tantrum that caused!<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The little man was acting like I killed his puppy or something. There were toys flying around, tiny baby fists smacking the ground, and what I can only assume was a toddler's version of a verbal assault that would shame the devil! </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">It was adorable! </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Unfortunately, I had to put a stop to it because I have seen what baby tantrums turn into as the kid gets older. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">You know, this was the first time that had I actually said anything sternly to my little mighty mite. All I said was, “Calm down.” I didn’t yell it out or even really raise my voice at all. I just said it in a way that meant, "I mean it this time." Well, as soon as the words came out of my mouth he just sort of looked at me like I was a trader, but it did the trick, and it broke my heart at the same time. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">He calmed down. I felt awful.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">It wasn't like that was the first time I have ever reprimanded him, but it was the first time that I had really meant it, and he could hear it in my voice. Before, when he has been naughty I usually smirk and laughingly tell him to cut it out and he would stop, but this tantrum was different. This time he wasn’t stopping with a few laughs, a smile, and a hug. He was in it for the long haul. He was pissed and he meant business! </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">What was I supposed to do? I couldn’t let him out maneuver me. If he won this battle, it would set me up for a losing streak I don’t know how many years long. It was another one of those "Nut up or Shut up" moments. I knew what had to be done. I had to stop this cycle of behavior before it began no matter how much it hurt me to do so because I am <i>not</i> about to let my baby be a tantrum throwing little brat like so many of those other jerky kids that I often see in the grocery stores and restaurants around here. I had to nip this in the bud, and I had to do it quick like.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">What few parents tell other first time parents or anyone for that matter is that sometimes being a parent is a lot like being in an extremely long chess match, and that is kind of fitting. In both, chess and parenting, you have to be able to predict possible outcomes in order to be any good. Now, I am a crappy chess player, and I am trying my hardest to be a decent daddy, so I am bound to make a lot of mistakes, but I am relatively certain that had I let the little man win this time as a result of his huge tantrum, I would have set the precedent for countless other tantrums and what not because he will know that tantrums work to get him what he wants. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Well, that's not going to happen on my watch. I have seen this happen before with a lot of other bratty kids, so, naturally, I am concerned that my kid would be no different if given the chance and I didn't do anything about it. I had no choice. I had to block the future tantrums and fights from happening. I had to start teaching him that he cannot always get his way and have what he wants. A stalemate wouldn't have been good enough here. I needed a win.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Don’t get me wrong. I am not really equating chess with parenting. I fully understand that being a parent is so much more important! I am still only grasping at how important it really is because I am not sure if I will ever be able to understand what's really at stake here. So, what I am really saying is that in order to be a good parent, you have to strategize like in chess. There has to be a definite game plan or you are going to fail miserably, and none of us want that. </span><o:p></o:p></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6433823038134605472-8815964497431301337?l=advicefordads.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Blogger Dad Perrea90http://www.blogger.com/profile/16951480388151932468perrea90@yahoo.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6433823038134605472.post-27415506815865267872011-03-15T08:00:00.001-04:002011-03-15T08:00:22.060-04:002011-03-15T08:00:22.060-04:00No, I Don't Know What the Hell I am Talking About, but do You?<div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i> </i>I got a simple e-mail the other day stating that I didn’t know what the hell I was talking about, to which my reply was, “Of course I don’t. Why should I?” <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">For real, why would I know anything more than anyone else about parenting? It isn’t like the parenting books and magazines are all that helpful. Sure, I get some pretty kickin’ recipes every once in a while, but, other than that, what good are they? I get all the information I need from the Pediatrician’s off and that is the milestones and average ages when things like walking and talking start. You want to know what the best part of getting most of my info from my son’s doctor’s office is? It’s the fact that there they aren’t trying to sell <i>me</i> anything. They just want the best for my baby. Just like me. The pediatrician doesn’t hand me articles about how to lose my love handles or how I can look good in a bathing suit by the time summer arrives. No, I get handed a sheet of paper that explains milestones on my child’s growth and development.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I have never understood how all that other crap ends up in parenting magazines anyway. I swear 75% of the articles are about making mothers try to look better, 10% of the magazine is filled with advertising to make mothers feel bad about themselves so they will buy whatever crap that is being sold, 5% of the magazines are about nifty quick meal or daycation ideas, and the last ten percent of the magazine will have actual content that has something to do with parenting. That last 10% could contain anything from behavioral advice to eyewitness accounts of poor parenting practices. It is a total crapshoot, and sometimes you lose big time. I am always wondering before I open the magazine whether or not it will be a total waste of time, but I always read them anyway. What can I say? I’m a gambler!<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">So, there you have it. Of the entire magazine there <i>may</i> be 15% of it that might offer some actual “useful” information. Now, if I never read any parenting books, which I have largely given up on, I would say that there really is no reason that I would know anything about parenting at all. But, the real question is, “What do you know that I don’t?” For real, I would like to know. I always like to hear advice or receive anecdotal wisdom from other parents because I always assume that I am doing something wrong when it comes to rearing my baby boy. I also assume that I could gain some vital knowledge and foresight from other as well. Unfortunately, that rarely if ever happens. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">It is just so confusing whether I am supposed to only use positive reinforcement to illicit the behaviors I want from him or should I tell him no and actively correct the behaviors I don’t want from him. Which method is better? What about getting my little man to eat healthy foods? How do I do that? Well, I have read that some people just don’t offer them anything else, while others say cut up fruits and vegetables and throw them into the foods that the kid does like? Which way works better? <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Aaahhh!!! <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I have so many other questions with so many more answers that nothing seems to make sense anymore. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Well, after I thought about it for a second or two, I believe that the answer to these questions vary from family to family. I don’t care what the childcare professionals say. There is no way that one method of child rearing will work on every single kid. That notion is just ridiculous! Unfortunately, parenting is just one of those things that we have to figure out on our own. Sure, we’ll get help from other people, but by no means do we have to take everyone’s advice and incorporate it into our lives. That would be impossible. Especially since most of the advice we, as parents, receive is contradictory from previous advice we have received. In fact, the best advice I have ever gotten from anybody was this. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>There is no sure fire way to raise your kid. Just love them, feed them, cloth them, take care of their needs, and you will do just fine. The rest will come to you. Don’t be afraid to make a mistake once in a while. </i><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">So, no, I don’t really know what I am talking about as a parent, but I am relatively certain that no one else really does either. All I know is that I love my son tremendously and that I am trying my damndest to do everything I can for him. I know full well that I am going to screw up every so often, but that doesn’t mean I am going to be a bad dad. It just means that I am going to make a mistake here and there. Be honest with yourself. Can <i>you </i>do any better? <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6433823038134605472-2741550681586526787?l=advicefordads.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Blogger Dad Perrea90http://www.blogger.com/profile/16951480388151932468perrea90@yahoo.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6433823038134605472.post-22277392661435665312011-03-14T11:07:00.001-04:002011-03-14T11:10:05.439-04:002011-03-14T11:10:05.439-04:00This Era's Over and Letting him Fall so He Can Get Back Up Again.<div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Well, it is the end of an era. My baby boy is growing up so fast, and it is making me so sad and happy all at once. All weekend he has been counting to three and chattering. He is getting so big! We even got rid of his crib that he never used and ordered a trundle bed for him. I can't wait to build it and watch him climb all over it, but never sleep in it. It's funny how things work out, but that is all part of life and growing up.<o:p></o:p></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Dealing with the growth of my little man is a lot harder than I ever expected it would be. Sure, I have over heard other parents say how tough it is to watch their kids grow up, but I never imagined that I would feel like that too. Don’t get me wrong. I am thrilled that he is always doing something new and progressing the way he should be. But, at the same time, I don’t really want him to. I want him to stay my little boy forever. I guess, in a way, he will be my little boy forever, but I would much rather he be sized like it too. He is just so cute right now! It will all be different when he is too big to want to be hugged and cuddled all the time. Then, before I even know what is happening he will be out on his own and causing all sorts of trouble for himself and the world.<o:p></o:p></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Speaking of trouble, I am having a hard time even imagining of all the trouble he is going to get himself into as he ages and grows. I have heard that two year olds are supposedly terrible, but other than that what am I supposed to expect? How are one year olds supposed to act? What about 2-10 year olds? There are just too many questions, and, seemingly, no answers because everybody is different. So, that means I will never know what to expect until it happens.</span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">All I know is that the little man is already climbing all over everything and jumping off of whatever he can. It scares the crap out of me! I have been told that it serves me right because I was a little pisser too, but I have also been told that it is going to get worse before it gets better. I am sure that is correct too. Hopefully, he doesn't maim himself too badly ever, but i am pretty positive it is just a matter of time before he does because a</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">s my little man grows and gets bigger and bigger he is going to be able to physically do more and more things. Yes, he can climb up onto the couch now and jump off, but that is going to be fluff in comparison to what I can only guess is to come. Part of me is scared stiff about it, but not all of me. I worry that he is going to hurt himself, but I am quite happy thinking of him having a thousand little adventures all on his own. In that aspect, it is going to be so neat for me to watch him grow and learn.</span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">You know, I have read that letting your little one have his/her own experiences, both failures and successes, is vital to their developmental growth. Of course, it is hard for us parents to see our kids fail at anything, but sometimes we have to let them for their own good. I wholly believe this even though it is going to make me feel like crap when it happens. I mean, sure we could try and protect our children from everything and anything, but in the end it won’t matter, and most likely all that would accomplish is them resenting us. There are many things that we, as parents, need to step back and let our kids find out for themselves, yet be there for support when they do. We all screw things up every once in a while, and sometimes things just don’t work out. When they don’t we can’t just fall apart can we? No, we have to move on; keep going; keep living. It’s our job as parents to show our children how to do this.<o:p></o:p></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">As painful as it is going to be for me, I am just going to have to let my little man fall every once in a while so he can learn to get back up. It’s all part of growing up. I know it sucks, but that’s just how it is. <o:p></o:p></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6433823038134605472-2227739266143566531?l=advicefordads.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Blogger Dad Perrea90http://www.blogger.com/profile/16951480388151932468perrea90@yahoo.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6433823038134605472.post-52746253126553889522011-03-11T08:45:00.002-05:002011-03-11T08:52:49.452-05:002011-03-11T08:52:49.452-05:00What I Stole From My Dad. It's his Birthday You Know?<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red; font-size: x-large;">Well, it is my dad’s birthday today. So, I am going to write a little bit about the miserable old fart today. Here it goes. Happy one millionth birthday dad! I hope you stick around for a million more.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I am sure that I am not the only parent to wonder about how much like my parents I am going to be, but there are times that it worries me that I am going to sound like my mom or dad. That would be freaky wouldn't it? It would mean that they were right all those times and that I am getting <i>old.</i> I vowed to myself when I was 16 that I would never see the world the way that they do, but in that I have failed miserably. I remember back in highschool hearing my mom and dad say a number of times, "You wait until you have kids of your own. Then you'll see." I always shrugged that off. I was always so sure of myself, and, now, I realize how full of crap I really was. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Now, everything is different. I have a little life experience under my belt, and my eyes seem to see things that I never knew were out there to see before. I am actually trying to think back of all those little talks with my parents, and I am horrified to realize that there was some real wisdom there, but I can't remember much of it now because I never really paid much attention to them then. At 16 I thought I knew it all already. What a dumbass!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Lately, I have been focusing on remembering all the crap that my dad spouted at me through my teenage years </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">particularly.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> I know that I am not all that different from any other parent in that I always seem to compare myself to my dad, and I am sure you try to compare yourself to either your mom or dad too. It just seems natural to do that. It isn't that I don't respect my mother. It's because my dad's a guy and so am I. It just makes sense. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Anyway, I am not sure if I am all that different from other parents, but, if you are like me, you probably either nix or steal techniques that your parents used on you as you grew up. For instance, I stole from my dad, and use repeatedly, a saying that I swear he repeated to us two hundred million times throughout my entire life, in fact i think I heard him say it last week. But, I changed his saying a little bit. Ok, I changed it alot, but the meaning is the same just the words are different. He used to say, “You either have to shit or get off the pot.” Well, I say, “It’s time to nut up or shut up.” They may seem like two totally different phrases, but if you sit and think about it they really do mean virtually the same thing. You either act on something or you don't. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">If something needs to be done or a decision needs to be made there is no sense in putting it off. Just do it. Get it over with. Sure, you can sit and whine about it or mull it over for days, but that will never change anything. It's always best to get whatever needs to be done over with.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Ok, so I didn’t really take one of my dad’s favorite sayings and adapt it to my needs. I adopted his mindset that I find particularly valuable, and I try really hard to live by it every day of my life. For example, we had a snow storm the other day, and I didn't want to shovel out. But, it needed to be done at some point, so I opted to do it right away. I am glad that I did because it made it so much easier for when the plow went up the road and plowed me in again. You know, there is some real merit to the “git’r done” attitude, and that mindset isn't just for rednecks and white trash. It's for everyone. Why procrastinate? It doesn’t do you any good, and you can only put things off for so long before whatever it is you are putting off becomes a real problem. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">My dad's "shit or get off the pot" mindset isn't the only thing that I stole from him. I have also taken some of his life lessons and incorporated them into my life as a parent. I hope that my son passes them along to his children as well. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">You know, perhaps the most important lesson that me my dad taught me occurred when I was about 13 or 14. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Like most, if not all, of our heart to heart, father son chats this one happened in the car. I remember that I was not happy about something and dad was pissed off at me again. Then after a few minutes of my silent pouting my dad turned to me and said, “You know it isn't my job to be your friend. It is my job to mold you into a decent person, and I would like nothing more than for you to become a better man than me.” Now, I am not sure if I am using the exact wording, but I am fairly certain that it is close. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Regardless of the accuracy of the wording, ever since that day I have tried to become what my dad wished of me. I say that I am still trying because I don’t want to fail, but I am not sure that I can succeed either. It wasn’t until recently that I realized that I was thinking about it all wrong too. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">You see, I thought of it as some kind of goal that I had to reach or achieve, but it never was. Well, at least it isn't a goal that I think anyone could reach anyway. I mean how odd would it be to all of a sudden become a decent person? What do you do then? How would you know when it happened, and even if you did know the hard part would be to maintain being that way. It isn’t exactly something you can stop because then you wouldn't be a good person any more. For some reason, this is extremely confusing to me. Thanks for screwing with my mind dad I really appreciate it you crotchety old man! </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Anyway, I have determined that being a decent member of society requires maintenance. So, no, it wasn’t ever meant to be a goal. I believe my dad meant for that chat to spur me into making a life choice that I might not have made without it. I chose to act on what I believed was right and to hell with what other people believed of me. I chose to help out when and where I could when it was needed. Most of all, I chose to try to be everything that I thought a good person should be. So, far I haven't made the cut, but I am not going to stop trying.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Yes, I missed the importance of that heart to heart with my dad 15-16 years ago, but the lesson itself was never lost. I thought about it a lot since then, and lately I think about it even more so because, s</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">ince I became a daddy, I think that I can now fully understand how my dad felt then. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I understand that I can’t always be my son’s buddy because, sometimes, I am going to have to be the “bad” guy, the disciplinarian. But, that doesn’t mean that I don’t want to be his buddy forever. I just have to recognize that being his parent is more important than being his friend sometimes. I also would like nothing more than to see my baby boy grow up to be a better person than me too, and to see that happen means that I have to prod him into the right direction sometimes and show him the way just like my dad did for me even though I didn't realize it. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Just because I have to be his dad first and foremost doesn’t mean that I can’t be his friend too. It’s not because I don’t love him. It’s because I <i>do</i> love him that I have to occasionally forget about being his buddy and tell him when he does something wrong and praise him when he does it right. It is up to my wife and I to show him that there are things out in the world that deserves his attention and respect. It is our job to help him become a decent and successful person, and, no, success isn't necessarily measured by wealth. It is so much more than that.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">You know, if I am lucky, I will be able to pass all these little but important lessons on to my son. I just need to figure out how to teach them all to him. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
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</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6433823038134605472-5274625312655388952?l=advicefordads.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Blogger Dad Perrea90http://www.blogger.com/profile/16951480388151932468perrea90@yahoo.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6433823038134605472.post-89730038979920459462011-03-10T11:59:00.002-05:002011-03-10T11:59:44.182-05:002011-03-10T11:59:44.182-05:00Toddler's are Crazy<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Well, I have finally come to the realization that a 1 year old is more energetic and cunning then I could have ever imagined. Yes, I have been warned multiple times about this very thing, but I guess I was naïve then and thought that I wouldn’t have such a problem. After all, he is only a toddler right? Wrong. He is a maniac. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I can’t say that I didn’t see this coming, but I can tell you that I didn’t imagine his maniacal tendencies would appear so soon. Somehow this morning he figured out how to escape his pack and play and climb a lampstand to get on top of his changing table. He has also figure out that jumping off the couch onto the blankets and pillows on the floor is great fun too. Now I am scared to think about how he is going to hurt himself when I put the couch blankets and pillows back. Will he try jumping off the couch on other things? I hope not.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Thinking back, I really should have listened to all the warnings that people gave me about how much of a hell raiser he was going to be as a toddler. I just didn’t fully understand all the trouble that toddlers could get themselves into. Holy cow! Are they all like this? So far the only sure fire method to keep track of him is to tired him out until he falls asleep. Then I do whatever I can until he wakes up in ten minutes and we exercise like crazy again and fall asleep again. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Unfortunately, doing this means that I get tired too, so I fall asleep with him most of the time. It also means that he is getting more endurance. So, every day the amount of time he is able to wreak havoc get longer and longer. It is getting to the point that I cannot really do anything, but make sure that he isn’t going to kill himself. That is becoming quite a chore. I can’t even fathom what type of antics he is going to be up to tomorrow let alone next week or month. It seems like he gets crazier as he gets bigger and older. </span><o:p></o:p></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6433823038134605472-8973003897992045946?l=advicefordads.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Blogger Dad Perrea90http://www.blogger.com/profile/16951480388151932468perrea90@yahoo.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6433823038134605472.post-54348468441844648462011-03-03T13:17:00.003-05:002011-03-03T13:52:46.352-05:002011-03-03T13:52:46.352-05:00Kids Are Gross!<div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">For a while now I have surmised that the difference between dogs and young kids is minimal; they both need a heck of a lot of attention as youngsters; both dogs and humans display similar behaviors and reactions to stimuli; they both are extremely curious; but, most of all, both babies and dogs seem to want to put everything in their mouths. So, you can see why I have always seemed to think that raising a baby would be a lot like raising a puppy. But, even I didn’t know just how similar dogs and babies were until this morning.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">As many of you parents know, it is important to baby proof your house because toddlers and babies love to get into everything that is dangerous. Well, this morning I was working on upgrading some baby proofing while the little man was running around and having a good time. It wasn’t long before I noticed this foul odor that just lingered and lingered. This may sound horrible, but I was hoping that this stench would go away on its own because that would mean that the little man only farted and not left me a diaper demon to dispose of. I really didn’t want to change another poopy diaper. Yeah I know I was being lazy and horrible, but if you have kids you know just how bad these things can get. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Anyway, the stench didn’t go away. It was the real deal. So, I got up, grabbed the little tyke and walked over to the changing table. When I got the little man undressed, I quickly realized that this was the mother of all poopy diapers. I swear this thing had to weigh about 2 pounds or so, which is a huge amount of poo to come out of a 22 lb baby. So, I put on my hazard gear and got to work. I am just kidding I don’t really have hazard gear for changing diapers, but I do have a routine that I follow. To start with I always have three wipes at hand, the trash bin open, and the butt cream out and ready to go so I am not searching for all this stuff with a squirming poop covered baby. Then I toss the diaper immediately and rush to wipe him down before he spreads his diaper demon all over the place because he squirms around so much. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Well, I didn’t follow my usual poopy diaper routine this morning. Like I said, I usually toss the diaper immediately upon removal of it from the baby. However, this time I left it on the changing table at my baby’s feet. Before I had a chance to realize my mistake the little man decided to reach down and grab a handful of his own foulness. I was totally caught off guard. Then I thought, “Great!!! This is definitely going to require another bath!” Well, it was worse than that because before I knew it he had his poop covered fist wrist deep in his mouth. Ok, not wrist deep, but you get the point. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Never in a million years would I have thought that my darling little boy would put his own poop in his mouth. How gross is that? Really gross! I couldn’t stop from retching on the poor little guy right then and there. He was already crying because, I imagine, he couldn’t get that horrible taste out of his mouth and then to have your da puke on you. It must have been traumatizing! I know that it was traumatic for me. I am probably going to have nightmares about this forever. I mean who the heck has a kid that will eat his own poo anyway? The only consolation is that I am sure he didn’t do it on purpose, but that doesn’t make it any less disgusting! Needless to say, we both took a shower and brushed our teeth a hundred times. Even thinking about it now makes me think I am going to get sicky on the laptop. I don’t think that I will ever be able to look at a poopy diaper again. From now on I am going to put potty training into hyperdrive, hoping to avoid another poo tasting incident. Let’s get it done!<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">You know, this little episode just reaffirms my previous belief that people and canines aren’t really all that different. I wish we were, but it simply isn’t so. Now, I don’t just have a dog that eats poo, but I have a one year old son that does too. Not awesome! Ok, so the little man probably didn’t mean to eat his poo, but that doesn’t change the fact that he did. Now, every time I hug or kiss my little mighty mite I am going to remember that he put poo in his mouth and then I am going to imagine that I can smell it on his breath. I am scarred for life I tell you! Now, I have to go and brush his teeth again. </span><o:p></o:p><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">P.s. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: x-small;">As a quick side note. I told my wife about what happened and she was more concerned that I retched on the poor little man than the fact that he put a handful of poo in his mouth.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> </span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6433823038134605472-5434846844184464846?l=advicefordads.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Blogger Dad Perrea90http://www.blogger.com/profile/16951480388151932468perrea90@yahoo.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6433823038134605472.post-82937604637229071252011-03-02T11:08:00.000-05:002011-03-02T11:08:43.989-05:002011-03-02T11:08:43.989-05:00Expectations, Expectations!<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">As part of my never ending quest to be a better daddy I have determined that it is time that my baby has chores to do. I just think that he has been living for free for far too long. He needs to earn his keep just like the rest of us. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">No, I don’t actually expect him to work. I am really only kidding around. I just think that it is high time that I starts allowing him to help me put his toys away when he is finished playing with them. Eventually, we will add more jobs as he gets older, but for now I just think that it is important to have some minimal expectations of him to get him in the habit of having to do things he doesn’t necessarily want to do. That, and why wouldn't I let him help if he wants to anyway? <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Speaking of expectations, I am aware that my little man is only a year old. I also know that most people don’t expect anything from their toddlers, but I am also fully aware that most people do not have any expectations of their teenagers anymore either. That just doesn’t seem right to me. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Therefore, I am going to start fighting this growing tendency in U.S. culture early. This afternoon while I am picking up the toys before the wife comes home I am going to encourage the little man to help me even if it takes a lot longer. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I am firmly convinced that allowing him to help out will be good for him and that he will enjoy it. The time we spend picking up the toys will give us a little different bonding experience to enjoy and experiment with. It will be like I am treating him like a big boy. Plus, what 1 year old doesn’t like to help his/her parents. It makes them feel important and encourages them to be a little more independent. Is that such a bad thing? </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I think that I can make picking up with me fun too. It could be turned into a wicked fun game. How great would that be? Imagine if I succeeded in making cleaning up as fun as making the mess in the first place. It would be a phenomenal achievement; possibly my crowning glory of fatherhood! But, more importantly, it would help me avoid all the tantrums and crying fits that I know 4,5 and 6 year olds have when they have to pick up after themselves. Well, I shouldn’t say that all 4-6 year olds act like that, just the ones that I hang out with on a normal basis. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">What amazes me is that last week when I asked the little girl I babysit to clean up her bread crumbs after lunch she started crying while my little boy ran to get the broom. My little mighty mite actually swept up her mess! How cute is that? </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Then I thought, “How ashamed would I be if a 1 year old cleaned up after my lunch mess?” Apparently, at 6 years old little girls are incapable of being shamed or at least this little girl is. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Her reaction to being asked to clean up after herself is the main reason that I am going to start asking my one year old to help clean up after himself too. Like I said before, it isn’t like I really have to ask because right now he really enjoys helping us, and I don't really expect him to be that much of a help. I just want him to get used to the idea of having expectations of him. It's fine if he's a hindrance at this point. I think that is really great that now he will grab the broom and sweep the kitchen off and on all day. I love that he screams and dances when I vacuum and he helps me push it around. The little man even tries to re-stack his books after they fall down. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">All I have to do is keep encouraging him to help. It doesn’t matter that it takes forever to actually pick anything up or clean anything. That’s not the point. The point is to get him to help out and not make it such a chore for him. Later on, I will work on efficiency, but for now it is sufficient just to have him try. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p></o:p></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6433823038134605472-8293760463722907125?l=advicefordads.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Blogger Dad Perrea90http://www.blogger.com/profile/16951480388151932468perrea90@yahoo.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6433823038134605472.post-18737975912147241762011-03-01T14:12:00.001-05:002011-03-01T14:30:01.720-05:002011-03-01T14:30:01.720-05:00Got Your Blinders On?<div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I imagine that the most difficult thing about being a parent is acknowledging the shortcomings of our children. Let’s face it. Nobody is perfect and your little darling and my little angel are not exceptions to that rule. Sooner or later we are all going to have to face the fact that sometimes our kid is the problem. I know that seems like it is impossible, but let’s get real here. If you here from three different teachers or other parents that your kid is obnoxious or a trouble maker, than chances are it is true. It isn’t that these people are out to get you or your kid. They are just sick of dealing with your brat and as his/her parent it is your responsibility to do something about their behavior. To do otherwise is to do them a disservice. <o:p></o:p></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">For instance, I know of a kid that was horribly spoiled and never disciplined as he was growing up. Whenever he got into trouble at school his parents always assumed that it was the teachers fault because their little darling could never do anything wrong. So, for 17-18 years he was basically allowed to do whatever he wanted and he would get away with it. His parents had absolutely no expectations of him, so he never learned to take responsibility for his actions. He never did homework because his parents never made him, so he never graduated highschool. He was a major bully and beat up other kids and nothing was done about it. I honestly think his parents thought that was cute. <i> </i>I don’t remember all the other things the jerky kid did, but I remember that he stole from my mom at one point. Well, since he never learned his lesson as a youngster, he continued these behaviors as a young adult and eventually landed himself in jail. I am certain that had this guy learned that there would be consequences for his actions that he could have made something of himself, but he didn’t. <o:p></o:p></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Sure, his case may be extreme, but it all could have been avoided because the warning signs were clearly there. I remember hearing multiple people, including teachers and family members, telling this kids parents to do something, but like so many other parents they couldn’t believe that their son was the problem. He was obviously provoked or something. Bologna! Your kid was a jerk because he was never forced to behave differently. I am not saying that the parents are to blame for everything the kid did because he obviously made a conscious decision to act that way, but his parents could have held him accountable as a youngster for his poor behavior. That might have helped. I mean, after all they were warned by multiple people.<o:p></o:p></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">You know, it pains me to say this, but sometimes the teachers are right. They certainly were in that kids case. I mean even they can’t be wrong every time, so chances are if they are having a problem with your kid or see a problem with him/her then something needs to be done, and that something needs to be done by the parents that doesn’t involve them blaming the teacher. For one thing, that really isn’t fair. These people are stuck in a room with 30 or more little rugrats so you can’t really expect them to put a lot of extra effort into forming a decent understanding relationship with your kid. That isn’t their job, and even if they really want to do that they just don’t have the time or energy for that, and I’ll tell you a secret. Your kid just isn’t that special. Why should they get any kind of extra attention from anybody? Sure, you may think that they may deserve it, but let it come from you because, let me tell you this, no one else in this world is going to give a crap about them. <o:p></o:p></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">For another thing, your perfect little angel might really be a little jerk at school. You are just going to have to accept that. I have seen and heard so many parents defend their worthless kids that it is ridiculous! Yeah, I agree that you have to go to bat for your kids, but you also have to be willing to discipline them when they need it. If your kid is flunking classes because they aren’t doing their homework it isn’t because they aren’t being challenged or the teacher doesn’t understand them or whatever other lame excuse you can come up with. It is because your kid is lazy and you need to make them do their homework. It isn’t the teacher’s responsibility to make them do the work it is the parent’s. It is the teacher’s responsibility to teach and keep your kid safe while he/she is in their care, nothing else. If your kid doesn’t want to put the effort in then that is their problem and yours not the teacher’s.<o:p></o:p></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">One of the things that I have noticed about many parents who have bratty kids is their overall quickness to blame everyone but themselves and their children for anything and everything that goes wrong in their kid’s life. For example, one of the high-schoolers I know came home with a note saying he was disruptive in class. What do you think his mom said? Well, her response was to say that the teacher was an idiot and out to get her kid. That doesn’t make sense. When I was little if a teacher told my parents I was disruptive in class there was going to be some big trouble when I got home. My mom sure as heck wouldn’t be blaming my teacher for my bad behavior or saying anything bad about the teacher in front of me. Where is the sense in that? Sure, the teacher probably really is an idiot because most of them are, but as a parent you are doing your child a disservice by attacking the teacher. Don’t you think that it would be a good thing for your kid to have to deal with the consequences of their actions? They are going to have to sooner or later anyway. They are also going to have to learn to deal with people that they don’t like and vice versa throughout their entire lives.<o:p></o:p></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The real question is how many teachers are going to have to have a problem with your kid before you finally acknowledge that your kid is at fault? Yeah, I bet it sucks to have a bratty kid, but at least once you acknowledge it you can work on it. I just hope that when you realize your mistake it isn’t too late to fix it because later on when your kid gets a job their boss, unlike their old teachers, won’t have to put up with them being slackers and jerks. What are you going to do then? How long are you going to be able to bail out your kid from every disaster that they bring on to themselves? You can’t live forever and hopefully we all outlive our children by a good many years.<o:p></o:p></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I am just glad that I have had the opportunity to talk with so many other parents who have had these sorts of problems because it gives me some real foresight. Whether they know it or not, they are teaching me some valuable lessons. Sure, no one wants to hear that their kid is a problem, but sometimes it is the truth. The sooner you can get on top of the issue the better. How do you deal with it though? I don’t know, but I am going to try a few different things. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">First, I am going to try my darndest to make my kid work for things. I firmly believe that the first problem that a lot of these kids have is that they expect everything to be given to them because they have never had to work for anything. Then, I am going to have some real expectations of my kid. That means I am going to have to lead by example here. I think a lot of parents have failed to teach their children to be respectful of others and be decent people because they don’t show respect. I also want my kid to be helpful and giving without expecting anything in return. No, that doesn’t mean I am going to turn him into a floor mat. It simply means that I want him be able to help people who need it because eventually he will need help too. I guess I am trying to say that I am going to teach him the good ole’ golden rule. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Lastly, I really want to hold my boy accountable for his actions or lack of actions. So many people fail to realize that there are some real consequences of their actions, and I don’t want my boy to be one of them. If he doesn’t do his homework, then rather than fight with his teacher about it I am going to make sure that he gets it done regardless of whether or not it is too late for it to make a difference. If he flunks out of a class he is just going to have to take the class over again. I am not going to go screaming at his teach because my kid didn't do his job as a student. It isn’t the teacher’s fault that my kid is failing his/her class. I sure as hell will never talk badly about any of kids teachers in front of him. What good does that do? None, but it sure teaches the kid to be disrespectful. <o:p></o:p></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I hope that no one gets the wrong idea and thinks that I am not willing to stick up for my kid because that simply isn't true. But, I <i>am </i>unwilling to fail as a parent even if that means I will have to recognize my child's faults. Yes, I know that that will hurt, but it needs to be done. I also realize that raising my son to be a decent, respectable person is easy in theory, but difficult in practice. That is precisely why I have developed a game plan already. You know, the best thing about a game plan is that it can be changed during the game. I just hope I will recognize the time when it needs to be adapted. Hopefully, everything works out, but if it doesn't I’ll just have to keep trying. I have heard from a few people that the job of being a parent never ends. It isn’t something you can retire from, and I believe that. <o:p></o:p></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6433823038134605472-1873797591214724176?l=advicefordads.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Blogger Dad Perrea90http://www.blogger.com/profile/16951480388151932468perrea90@yahoo.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6433823038134605472.post-26991621941044227162011-02-24T10:28:00.000-05:002011-02-24T10:28:43.781-05:002011-02-24T10:28:43.781-05:00Horrible Horrible Kid's Parties<div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Well, the little man’s birthday party went off without a hitch. It was great to see everyone having such a great time. I guess the highlight of the day was watching him play with my friend’s 4 year old little girl. It was just awesome. They were running and laughing and having such a great time that it was almost a pity that the party had to end. Oh well.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Anyway, in a way I am glad that his birthday party is over with because I don’t plan on throwing him another party until he is old enough to ask for one. If any of you have been fortunate enough to have had the opportunity to attend a child’s birthday party before then you know what I mean. They are completely obnoxious. These parties are like a get out of jail free card for many parents. They show up, hang out, and let their children run around like a bunch of wild animals. Do they keep track of them? No, of course not! Apparently, that magically becomes someone else’s responsibility. I’m sorry, but I think that children need to be watched even if they are at a party. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Unfortunately, what happens most of the time is that I get stuck watching the little jerks. I don’t mind watching my kid and making sure he doesn’t hurt himself or anyone else. That’s my job as his dad, but I don’t really much like watching other people’s jerky kids. But, I know that if I don’t they are sure enough going to get hurt because their parents are too lazy to pay attention to them. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">This really infuriates me. It wouldn’t be so bad if it was always kids that I know, but even then I feel like telling people “Enough is enough. Your kid is going to hurt itself if you don’t pay attention to what the heck it is doing.” I guess I just figure that if I can watch my kid and pay attention to what he is doing then you can do the same for your kid too. That’s your responsibility as a parent. Don’t take it lightly. I don’t. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">It is precisely because of this that I hate the idea of having birthday parties for my son. This last one he had was alright, but I am willing to bet that when he gets older it is going to et much much worse. I already noticed how many parents tend to forget to watch their kids at the park last summer. I can only imagine how bad it will be at a birthday party. Scratch that. I already know how bad it gets at little kids birthday parties. I went to one where the little brats were swimming when one of the little idiots decided to start throwing mud and rocks at the other kids. Well, pretty soon all the little stupid kids were throwing rocks and mud at each other having a great time. I decided not to say anything to the brats because at the time I didn’t have any children, but after 5 or 10 minutes of watching this idiocy I had to do something because one kid already got hit in the face and fell off his inner tube, and I didn’t want a smaller kid to get hit and drown. So, I yelled at the kids and told them that that was probably a really bad idea and I didn’t want to see that kind of horse crap anymore. I want to know why none of the other 10 adults there didn’t think to say anything to stop this behavior. And, why did they give me such sour looks after I yelled at the little jerk kids? Anyone with any sort of common sense knows that you don’t mess around in water. That is especially true if there are kids involved and some of them aren’t strong swimmers. That water was deep. It was only a matter of time before one of those dumbass kids took a rock to the side of the head and drowned. It probably would have been one of the little ones and not the 7-8 year old ones. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">It is because of situations like this one that I hate children’s parties, and I hope that my baby boy doesn’t feel like he needs to have one every year, but if he does I guess I can live with it as long as it is always somewhere other than my home. Let the brats wreck the park or something. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6433823038134605472-2699162194104422716?l=advicefordads.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Blogger Dad Perrea90http://www.blogger.com/profile/16951480388151932468perrea90@yahoo.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6433823038134605472.post-33766275664514162832011-02-17T13:47:00.000-05:002011-02-17T13:47:06.138-05:002011-02-17T13:47:06.138-05:00Broken Promises, Being Sick, and Dealing with the Television.<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I have made the same simple promises to myself since the little man was born, and I can't tell you how many times I repeat them to myself. I promised that my house would not be overrun with his toys and that I would curb my incessant spending on him as well as not allowing the television to babysit him. Well, I have kept neither of the first two promises because not only do I have a spring horse, train table, and his ride on Winnie the pooh train in my living room, but I also have the majority of his other toys laying around too. To top it all off I keep buying the little monster more play things because I never think that he has enough toys. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I guess it wouldn’t be so bad if he didn’t use practically everything that he can pick up as a weapon against me. This morning he picked up his remote controlled smart car and hit my in the head with it while I was lying on the couch. I guess I wasn’t paying enough attention to him or something. Whatever happened to the good ole’ days when all he wanted was his multicolored inflatable ball? Oh well. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">You know I am still not convinced that he actually enjoys having all these play things around. Every morning after my wife leaves for work he spends maybe ten or fifteen minutes just staring at his toy pile looking overwhelmed by the sheer amount of choices he has. Still about half of the time he goes right for the ball, but for a few minutes he actually looks concerned about what he should be playing with. It is like he is saying to himself, “I can’t just play with this ball. Da will be sad because he bought me all this other crap to play with too. Hmm...What should I do?” So, without fail, I will watch as he reluctantly puts down his favorite ball and pick up the talking mailbox or something. It is like this every morning. Then after we play for a little while it is story time. That is never a problem because he will just grab the first book and bring it to me to read to him. After that book is finished he will grab another and another until we have either read all his books, he gets bored, or my voice decides it doesn’t want to work anymore. I can usually get through 15 books before that happens, but that depends on the books he has me reading him. Our newest book is the “Itsy Bitsy Spider” that the pediatrician’s office gave him at his I year check-up. He likes it a lot because, like with many of the other books too, his da acts out the story with him. You will never know how much fun that is until you try it. His other favorite thing to do lately is dance to any kind of noise that has a rhythm to it, which I am all about because there is a slight chance that it will tire him out and give me a chance to catch my breathe. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">You might have noticed that I conveniently left out that third promise to not allow the television to baby sit my son. Well, I haven’t forgotten it. I am still holding to it, but it is a tenuous hold the last couple of days because I have been sick more than my usual ailments. Therefore, the poor little man has been getting the shaft because I just don’t have the energy to run around and play like I usually do. Play time has been virtually cut in half and television time has practically doubled. I tell myself it isn’t that bad because we watch a kids show that promotes and teaches little ones to read called “Super Why.” But, watching t.v. is still watching t.v. It really doesn’t matter what it is you are watching. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I keep telling myself that this is only a temporary thing, but that doesn’t I am not getting worried that I will make it a more permanent thing because it is so easy to just leave the television on and let the little man veg out in front of it all day. I am afraid that it is going to ruin his imagination let alone turn him into a couch potato. I just don’t want him to revere the television like so many others do. I have seen so many kids and adults who need to have the thing on all the time and it doesn’t even matter what is playing as long as it is on. It is like it is a separate entity that is desperate for attention. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">How do you discourage your children from “needing” television to amuse them though? Sure, you could try never having it on, but I am afraid that will make it that much more appealing once it is on. There has to be a healthy mix that doesn’t turn the TV into a reward. I am just not comfortable with making my TV set something that is all that special, but I also don’t want my baby boy to be the weird kid at school who isn’t allowed to watch TV either. It is a conundrum. Luckily I still have time to figure that out. So far, I am thinking that if I don’t make a big deal about it, it won’t be a big deal. If that doesn’t work then I will have to come up with a plan b. </span><o:p></o:p></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6433823038134605472-3376627566451416283?l=advicefordads.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Blogger Dad Perrea90http://www.blogger.com/profile/16951480388151932468perrea90@yahoo.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6433823038134605472.post-5952530556968497732011-02-15T16:19:00.002-05:002011-02-15T16:19:47.330-05:002011-02-15T16:19:47.330-05:00Make Shift Valentine's Day<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Yesterday, the little man had a terrific birthday. There was cake everywhere, a brand new zoo membership, a few new toys to play with, and he even got to eat his favorite food of all time, Vegetable Lomein. What else could he want on his first birthday? I don’t know, but he looked pretty happy all day and that is all I ever want for him. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">But, with all that went on birthday wise I forgot someone who is almost just as important to me, my sweety. I never once wished my wife a happy valentine’s day yesterday. I almost feel bad about it too. Not really. You see, since the little man was born on Valentine’s day I kind of figured that that would mess up valentine’s day for us. Well, not for me since I think it is just a disgusting holiday, but it is important to some people, so I made arrangements to have flowers delivered to my wife today instead. I figured that I could make the 15<sup>th</sup> our Valentine’s day for a few years. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Maybe it is just me, but I think that it is important for the little one’s birthday to be all about him. My wife and I can shift V-day over a day. It isn’t going to hurt us any. So, I have these flowers all ready to give to her. Now all I need is a plan on what else we can do. I thought about taking her and the little one out to dinner, but that seems kind of lame to me; going to the movies is out of the question; arranging for someone to babysit the little man while the wife and I go out seemed like a bad idea to me because now that I have a family I kind of want to do things together. What’s a guy to do?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">My all-time favorite fall back plan is to let my favorite girl decide what we do, but more often than not she doesn’t care either. I suppose I could clean the house and make dinner for her, but that doesn’t seem very special. Well, the dinner part would be same old thing anyway, but god do I hate to clean the house. I never knew how much harder it would get once there was a little one around who took an enormous amount of pleasure in ruining any kind of progress you make. I swear I will just about get all his toys put away and then all of a sudden he’ll streak over and pull everything out again and then walk away. The bugger won’t even pretend to play with them. I know that he is only making a mess to screw with me. He knows that I know that too. What an evil little monster!<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Anyway, to get back on topic, what I need is a specific plan. I don’t want to resort to any of the lame old evenings that everyone else does for V-day. I want to do something different, something that will make my wife feel special but include the little man too. If it wouldn’t be dark by the time she got home I would drive her out to the little waterfall we know of and take photos because they are really pretty this time of year, but that won’t work. I guess it is going to be another boring evening on our makeshift valentine’s day. Not to say that it isn’t going to be special, it just isn’t going to be different. Oh well. There is always next year. </span><o:p></o:p></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6433823038134605472-595253055696849773?l=advicefordads.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Blogger Dad Perrea90http://www.blogger.com/profile/16951480388151932468perrea90@yahoo.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6433823038134605472.post-83366436268607312812011-02-14T08:00:00.008-05:002011-02-14T08:38:08.064-05:002011-02-14T08:38:08.064-05:00It's the Little Man's B-Day! Here's a bit About Him.<div style="text-align: right;"></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JAm1arTrA_o/TVW3Jx9PZpI/AAAAAAAAAEM/tZsE1U4Og-4/s1600/Guy+for+blog+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JAm1arTrA_o/TVW3Jx9PZpI/AAAAAAAAAEM/tZsE1U4Og-4/s320/Guy+for+blog+4.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The day he was born</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I can’t believe it. The little man is a year old now. I have to say that this has probably been the best year of my life too. Why, it seems like just yesterday we went to the hospital to pry him out and catch a glimpse of him. I can still remember that day pretty vividly, and I am really surprised at myself because I didn’t pass out or anything. I didn’t even think that I was going to. It wasn’t anything like television and movies led me to believe it would be. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-sA_Sl1qtr1U/TVW3PglDI7I/AAAAAAAAAEc/dOKgQjYycNk/s1600/Guy+for+blog+8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-sA_Sl1qtr1U/TVW3PglDI7I/AAAAAAAAAEc/dOKgQjYycNk/s320/Guy+for+blog+8.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">9 months old and loving it</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">It all started on a Saturday morning. My wife woke up and said something about having contractions, but since she didn’t act alarmed I didn’t either. We both pretty much just hung out that morning, relaxing as best we could. Then we went to our friend’s house for lunch. Yes, we went to have lunch at our friend’s house while my wife was having contractions. It was her idea, so don’t yell at me. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uG8Ue9eVma8/TVW3EhSAiII/AAAAAAAAAEA/j7VC7kZU5gY/s1600/Guy+for+Blog+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uG8Ue9eVma8/TVW3EhSAiII/AAAAAAAAAEA/j7VC7kZU5gY/s320/Guy+for+Blog+1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">5-6 months old at the Park</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="text-align: right;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Anyway, as we ate lunch or early dinner, my friend’s wife decided to time my wife’s contractions and they were like 3 minutes apart or something. Honestly, I don’t really remember how close they were, but they were pretty close. I do remember getting a little excited and nervous then, but being a macho man meant that I couldn’t show it. I tried to laugh it off as them imagining it, but I knew they were right. Eventually, she and her husband talked us into going to the hospital, which ruined all of my plans. It wasn’t much of a plan. I was just going to go to Dunkin’ donuts to get a gigantic box of coffee and a few dozen donuts, but I ditched that idea because I was worried that there wasn’t enough time. Thus my beautiful plan was ruined, but since there was a chance that my baby would be born on the 13<sup>th</sup> instead of on Valentine’s Day I wasn’t too upset about it. Who am I kidding anyway? It didn’t matter to me when he was going to be born as long as he was healthy. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mly5xbhF40c/TVW3HXMNfdI/AAAAAAAAAEE/C5YSioDBPXo/s1600/Guy+for+Blog+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mly5xbhF40c/TVW3HXMNfdI/AAAAAAAAAEE/C5YSioDBPXo/s320/Guy+for+Blog+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">3 months old in the Johnny Jump Up</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The reason that I had originally planned to go to Dunkin’ Donuts and buying one of those gigantic boxes of coffee and a few dozen donuts was so I could take them to the hospital staff. I figured we’d be there awhile and what harm is there in making friends with them since we were not about to go anywhere anyway. Well, the Dunkin’ Donuts trip didn’t happen. I am sorry. Yes, I could have left once we got to the hospital and dropped my wife off, but there was no way I was going to take off and leave her like that. Actually, I was afraid that if I left I would miss something important. You know, like the birth of my very first child, but apparently giving birth to a child takes a lot longer than I had expected. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Since I was in for the long haul, I decided to take note of my surroundings. The very first thing I noticed was that the Olympics were on. I believe they were doing the luge at the time. The second thing I noticed was that, so far, nothing was how the movies and television made it seem. My wife wasn’t screaming and threatening to kill me, but the night was still young. I expected it to happen eventually. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">As it turns out, my wife is a toughy. She really didn’t make any noise at all other than hum every once in a while and tell me that it hurts. I felt so bad for her. The third thing I noticed was that the hospital staff didn’t really have a sense of humor, and I very quickly learned to shut up and stay out of the way. At about midnight a nurse came in and asked, “How are you feeling? Are you doing alright?” Of course, me being a smart ass replied, “Oh I am doing alright, but thanks for asking.” You should have seen the evil look that got me from this tiny little nurse. I thought that she was going to kill me, so I quickly vacated the room and went to get my wife some ice chips and what not. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> Well, after a few hours, maybe 12 or so, of walking with my wife and trying to be helpful in any way possible my wife decided to get an epidural. What was odd about that was that she asked me what I thought about it. I didn’t answer. I am afraid I just looked shocked because all the while my wife was humming through the pain and telling me conversationally that it hurt terribly, I was hearing this screaming and commotion from the room adjacent to us that was very disconcerting. It sounded like a torture chamber or something. You know, if it were me giving birth, I would have gotten an epidural within the hour of arrival. But no, my wife had to be all tough cookie about it. I was so proud of her, but dismayed that she didn’t want to relieve some of her pain. Just the thought of it made me want to cry. I can’t imagine what it actually felt like, and I don’t really want to know either. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-W4LjDaJIZes/TVW3KwWOMzI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/IpbvpZw20WU/s1600/Guy+for+blog+5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-W4LjDaJIZes/TVW3KwWOMzI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/IpbvpZw20WU/s320/Guy+for+blog+5.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The day after the little man was born</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">At around 6 am my wife’s midwife showed up in pajamas with her hair all messy from sleep. I couldn’t help but smirk a little, and then I looked in a mirror and realized that I looked exactly the same minus the boobs and substitute jeans and a t-shirt for the pajamas. She said that things weren’t progressing very quickly and went home and took a nap and came back looking like she meant business. By then one of our friends showed up for a little extra moral support. She told me to take off but by then I had already spent a number of hours in that little room with my little wife, and I was not about to go anywhere until the birth was over with, which happened at 2:15 in the afternoon. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lvX2OmR4Vj8/TVW3I4k4JrI/AAAAAAAAAEI/C81rrsRaD2Y/s1600/Guy+for+blog+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lvX2OmR4Vj8/TVW3I4k4JrI/AAAAAAAAAEI/C81rrsRaD2Y/s1600/Guy+for+blog+3.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">3 months old after bath time</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Oh my, did the process of getting my son out scare the crap out of me! I won’t give you all the details even though I could because I had to hold one of my wife’s legs up because she was so tired, but I will tell you that I was really surprised at the amount of hair my son had the first time I saw him. I swear he popped out said, “Hey Da!” and shot back up where he came from three or four time. Each time I noticed how thick his hair was. He was going to be a fine looking boy I thought, and, so far, I am right. Other than that, I will also tell you that during the first attempt to get him out his heart rate dropped dangerously and he had to be rolled over to the right direction, which didn’t quite work out the way they wanted it to. In the end they had to yank him out with a suction cup, which was a trick because of the amount of hair he had on his head. Nevertheless he came out; our perfect little Valentine’s Day baby. I was speechless, trembling and trying my darnedest not to cry and collapse. He was beautiful even if he did kind of look like a baby mole. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">After he was all cleaned up and ready to go to the receiving room I think they call it I said something like, “Thank you so much. I guess we’ll see you guys in about a year with our next one.” to the nurse. Apparently, that wasn’t funny. I got yelled at because the nurse thought I was being serious. She started going on about all the health risks and what not. When she finished my wife told her that I was joking and the nurse said, “You don’t know how many morons I see every day that do stuff like that.” I took her word for it and went quickly to my wife’s new room before I could get myself into any more trouble with the angry nurse. Then two short days later we were home with our baby boy wondering how much we were going to screw him up over his life time. Hopefully it won’t be too bad for him.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RJYVbnzuayA/TVW3MhQbWFI/AAAAAAAAAEU/JP2Y-qRVLNU/s1600/Guy+for+blog+6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RJYVbnzuayA/TVW3MhQbWFI/AAAAAAAAAEU/JP2Y-qRVLNU/s320/Guy+for+blog+6.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">4 months old </td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Like I said before, it is so hard for me to believe that it has been a whole year since that wonderful day of his birth. He has grown so much! He is just the happiest little squirt and I often wonder where the heck he got such a pleasant personality from. It must be something he got all on his own because everyone knows that neither my wife nor I are what you can call pleasant people. I am also astounded by my son’s sense of humor. I swear he has been telling jokes and playing pranks on me since he was five months old. He’ll run up to me and try to hand me something, and just when I think he is actually going to give whatever it is he has to me he yanks it out of my hand and screams in laughter. He’ll either do that or he’ll come up to me and lean on me and then let one rip and giggle like crazy. Where does he get this stuff from? It is amazing. Before becoming a father I would never have guessed in a million years that infants could be capable of that kind of behavior. To be able to pull a prank like that takes a surprising amount of foresight if you think about it. I think babies are a whole lot more aware of what’s going on around them then a lot of people give them credit for.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Looking back over this past year I am not sure how much of it I would change or do differently in regards to my son, but I do know that I wouldn’t buy half of the crap that I did for him. Right now we have I don’t know how many strollers that we don’t use, a crib that has never been used, an extra pack and play that has been used to store toys in, and a whole lot of other crap that I can’t even think of right now. But, like so many other first time parents my wife and I were afraid of doing something wrong, so we bought all that worthless junk because most of it said it was safer than the other brands. Well, now that I think about it, everything says that it is safer than the other brands. It doesn’t matter what <i>it</i> is. It could be diapers, ointment, or it could be a car seat, but you can pretty much guess that no matter what the product is it will advertise itself as the safest thing going for your baby. Well, now that I know that, I will be prepared for the next one if he or she ever arrives. I am kind of hoping that he/she does show up eventually because I still have a lot of love to give and one more little one running around would be perfect to use it on. I am a little abashed at having figured out that that is all the little one really wants. Love. He doesn’t care which diapers he wears or what kind of stroller or car seat he sits in. As long as my wife or me is with him and love him he is happy. Wouldn’t it be nice if that was enough for all of us? <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ds-Fs1om6Ic/TVW3OPdbTAI/AAAAAAAAAEY/SySVs3QGRzk/s1600/Guy+for+blog+7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ds-Fs1om6Ic/TVW3OPdbTAI/AAAAAAAAAEY/SySVs3QGRzk/s320/Guy+for+blog+7.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Baby Bath time</td></tr>
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</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6433823038134605472-8336643626860731281?l=advicefordads.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Blogger Dad Perrea90http://www.blogger.com/profile/16951480388151932468perrea90@yahoo.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6433823038134605472.post-67214854107530929702011-02-10T19:56:00.002-05:002011-02-10T19:56:39.168-05:002011-02-10T19:56:39.168-05:00Shut up and Dance!<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Yesterday, the little man and I discovered something very important. We found out how important it is to take a little time to be completely silly. Now, it may seem that this isn’t a very worthwhile endeavor, but you will have to try it and see for yourself. It is definitely worth a try, and you might be surprised at the result. Who knows, it might add years to year life or something.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">So, the little man and I came to this conclusion yesterday after our lunchtime when we usually do some sort of physical activity like dancing, baby monster tag, spinning, or rolling and chasing his favorite inflatable ball around. Well, for some reason, I was feeling quite lethargic and mopey at the time, and I don’t know why really. I guess it is just a case of where sometimes people just get down. Anyway, my son decided that he wanted to dance. He does this sort of move that I call the toddler stomp. It is basically just him running in place and stomping his feet really loud while jumping and spinning. Whenever he starts this intricate dance it is a hint that he would like to listen to some music. I figured that out a few weeks ago, and I will never forget it again because if you don’t turn on his music all hell will break loose. Trust me. Nobody wants that. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">So, anyway, I turned on the music and he danced away, and, before I realized what I was doing, I joined in because, let’s face it, he was going to make me do it eventually anyway. You know what? I am so glad I did because, to tell you the truth, I am not sure if I have ever had a better time. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Maybe it is just me, but I find that there is definitely something very rewarding about goofing around with my son whenever I get a chance. I can’t really describe how good it makes me feel to be able to spend times like that with him. It is like somehow I am magically transported back to a simpler time where I don’t have to be an adult, and I don’t have to worry about what I look like to other people, not that I worry about that too much anyway. Dancing with the little man means that I can be as carefree as I dare. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">What’s it going to matter anyway? It isn’t like the little man is going to make fun of me. Well, he won’t yet anyway, but for now all he cares about is that he is having a good time with his da. The only problem is I can’t keep up with the little squirt anymore. He can jump and dance his butt off for maybe a half hour to an hour non-stop. I think I might have 20 minutes in me tops, but whenever I try to stop he looks at me all disappointedly with his puppy dog eyes and, somehow, I manage to gather some more stamina and keep dancing with him until <i>he</i> is done. I figure dancing with him is good for me anyway, but man I am sore afterwards. At least he doesn’t insist that I dance like him. There is no way that I am going to jump up and down and flop around and do the toddler stomp for an hour. That boy is nuts when it comes to dancing! <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">What is particularly surprising is that he can do all this crazy stuff and still seem to be keeping in rhythm. It’s amazing to me! I am just so glad that he chose dancing as his after lunch activity. It is just what I needed to turn my day around. I am going to remember this for next time I am feeling gloomy. The remedy for it is cheap. You should try it sometime.</span><o:p></o:p></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6433823038134605472-6721485410753092970?l=advicefordads.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Blogger Dad Perrea90http://www.blogger.com/profile/16951480388151932468perrea90@yahoo.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6433823038134605472.post-50818595868359923412011-02-09T11:51:00.001-05:002011-02-09T12:27:01.299-05:002011-02-09T12:27:01.299-05:00My Disgusting Dogs and the Sneaky Poop Attacks!<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><u><b>Caution: </b></u> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">Consider this fair warning. Today's post is slightly gross and, as the title might suggest, involves poopy. So please take this into consideration before you read further if there is a possibility that this will offend you.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">If you have children you probably remember all the diaper explosions that you had to clean up. I am constantly surprised at the sheer amount of poop that little babies can create in one go. Like this morning for instance. The little man was playing with his wooden train set and all of a sudden he looks at me and gives me that smile, which isn’t really a smile. It’s the look that all babies get when they are struggling internally with some sort of demon that desperately wants to escape their bowels and take over the world.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Well, this morning’s escaped diaper demon was certainly something that the devil himself would be proud of. I swear to you that before my very eyes I watched as my son’s diaper expanded to its bursting point. Oh my, what a stench it created! I am telling you that this diaper demon smelled so bad that even the dogs cringed in terror. They were so afraid of it consuming their very essence that they banished themselves up the stairs and hid trembling in their crates, which is totally the opposite reaction from what I have grown accustomed to from them. Those of you who have nasty disgusting dogs know what I am referring to, but for those that do not I will tell you what gross dogs do with baby poopy. They try their hardest to eat it. It is a disgusting but sometimes useful habit!<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I am not going to lie to you and say that I never once let the dogs clean up after the little man, but I will say that there has been a few times when I couldn’t stop the cleanup from occurring due to being completely shocked. Don’t get me wrong. I wasn’t shocked that the dogs would eat it. I have grown up with disgusting mongrel dogs and know exactly what they are capable of eating. No, I was shocked at the velocity, volume, and quantity of dookie at which babies are capable of shooting out their bottoms. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Before he was born, I thought that I was prepared for this, but I was wrong. To this day it still surprises me, and amuses me a little. How can something so little fire a turd torpedo that sounds like a thunderstorm and looks like a Christmas style fruitcake out its pooper like that? And, for some reason unknown to me, the little man has learned to wait and aim these nuggets of awesomeness at me while I am either changing him or helping to sit him on his froggy potty. The little squirt knows to lean sideways to fire his “ammunition” out over the potty too. I know he is doing this on purpose because he laughs at me when he does it. I am thinking that my wife has put him up to it.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">As you can imagine, when these little attacks first happened I was quite shocked. Now I know to look out for them however. But, for a while, it was really handy to have two completely disgusting dogs hanging around because they could always clean up the poop attack while I cleaned up the boy and found something to clean up the situation myself. Yes, I refer to my son’s excrement as situations. Anyhow, if you have kids, then you know how handy a tool to disgusting, poop eating dogs can be regardless of the level of disgust you feel at the time when they are put in use. I don’t encourage this behavior or anything, but that doesn’t mean that I can’t be a little thankful for it does it?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Anyway, for the last month or so I haven’t had to utilize my dogs for that specific purpose, and they seem truly saddened by this, which is why it was so surprising to me that this morning the little man managed to produce something so vile that even my disgusting dogs didn’t want anything to do with it. Neither did I, but what can you do? Someone had to clean it up, and this morning that someone was me. But, what made the experience even more humiliating was the self-satisfied look that the little tyke had on his face as I scooped the dookie out from under him on the changing table. It was like he was reminding me of my proper place in society, and for a little extra confirmation he pee’d on me while I was cleaning him up too. He hasn’t done that in months. He must have thought I was getting to uppity for my own good. Now, I know better I guess.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">So, let this serve as a warning to all future parents out there. Being a mommy or a daddy has many rewards, but it also requires you to get your hands dirty too. I mean really filthy! It doesn’t matter how weak your stomach is. When the poop flies you have to clean up the mess, and if this might be too much for your weak stomach then I suggest getting some disgusting dogs of your own or maybe desensitizing yourself a little at a time before you have to get in there and really get dirty. Your baby will help in this because at first the poopy attacks won’t be that bad, but I assure you that they will get worse progressively. So, make sure you stock up on baby wipes and keep your supplies filled because believe me you’ll be thankful for them later. </span><o:p></o:p></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6433823038134605472-5081859586835992341?l=advicefordads.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Blogger Dad Perrea90http://www.blogger.com/profile/16951480388151932468perrea90@yahoo.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6433823038134605472.post-69939236876295233362011-02-08T11:20:00.000-05:002011-02-08T11:20:45.549-05:002011-02-08T11:20:45.549-05:00Reality Check. What's Important to You?<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I often wonder how there is so many people in this world that can be so out of touch with reality. I just find it so hard to believe that in this day and age with television and the internet that way it is that someone has to really try in order to be blind to what is going on around the globe. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I know, I know. I am no one to talk because there are so many times when I have no idea what is going on out there. Like, who the hell are some of these “singers” they got coming out of the wood work these days? But, with that aside, at least I know about global warming and other worldwide and national concerns. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The other day I was outside shoveling my sidewalk for perhaps the 100<sup>th</sup> time this winter when I overheard my neighbor say something like, “So much for Global Warming” in her creaky crackly smoker’s voice. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Immediately following that statement her compatriot replied, “Global warming? What’s that?” <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">To which the woman replied, “You know, it’s when the globe heats up and makes the world hotter so it won’t snow no more. I can’t wait. It sounds wonderful.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Well, to say the least I was perplexed. Not just by the woman’s lack of understanding but by this guy’s total lack of knowledge about it. He acted like he had never even heard the term before. I mean who in the world can avoid the topic of global warming these days. How does that happen? Maybe I am just naïve, but I think that is way worse than me not knowing who the heck Justin Beiber was. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I guess it is just a matter of what is important to you, which leads me to the problem of raising my baby boy with the ability to recognize what is really important to him. I hope that he doesn’t find it to be a hack singer or something, but if it is I will do my best to be supportive and hope that that phase will pass. Regardless of what he believes to be important it is important for me that my baby knows that his mama and da will be right there with him helping in any way we can.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
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</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6433823038134605472-6993923687629523336?l=advicefordads.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Blogger Dad Perrea90http://www.blogger.com/profile/16951480388151932468perrea90@yahoo.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6433823038134605472.post-51379633921451551732011-02-03T14:03:00.000-05:002011-02-03T14:03:33.677-05:002011-02-03T14:03:33.677-05:00Blast you Bob the Builder!!!<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Today is a sad sad day in my household. It is the end of an era. “Thomas the Tank Engine” has been dethroned as the king of my baby boy’s heart. Who, you ask, has usurped Thomas’s rightful place as king of entertainment in Toddlervania? Why, none other than that treacherously vile creature known as “Bob the Builder.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The battle for the little man’s heart was brief and violent. Bob’s attack was so sudden that I didn’t even see it coming. Before I realized what was happening it was too late to come to Thomas’s aide with fortifications for his front lines. Without my aide, Thomas had no choice but to retreat with the hopes of rising to power again someday. Hopefully, that day comes soon.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">As the smoke cleared from the battlegrounds, I realized something as I viewed the debris. “Bob the Builder” initiated his assault on my baby’s heart months ago. His sole aim was the destruction of “Thomas the Tank Engine’s” hold there. Bob even had the temerity to infiltrate Thomas’s DVD’s recklessly. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">It was only a matter of time before the little man became curious of this intruder who boldly displayed himself as a possible successor to Thomas. Had I realized this then, I would have fast forwarded through the promos and advertisements that showed before every episode of “Thomas the Tank Engine” that we watched with the hopes of avoiding this tragedy. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I think that it was actually Bob’s marching song that did the most damage. It is just too catchy to ignore. It is what allows “Bob the Builder” to imbed himself into the psyches of millions so thoroughly. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I mean really. If blasted Bob managed to affix his marching chant, “CAN WE FIX IT?!...YES, WE CAN!” into a presidential candidate’s campaign slogan, what chance did a toddler have of fighting him off? I guess I just never realized quite how powerful “Bob the Builder” was, and he is getting stronger every day.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">In reality, having Bob dethrone Thomas doesn’t really bother me. They are really pretty similar in that they both have similar wholesome messages and what not. I just like Thomas a little more because he was around when I was a little tyke. Watching Thomas makes me feel nostalgic. He brings back memories of my childhood when life seemed so much easier whereas Bob does nothing for me personally. Well, I can’t really claim that because truthfully I find Bob and his cronies dreadfully annoying. It has nothing to do with their actions or their stories, but has everything to do with their voices. They grate on my nerves so much that I can feel my brain rotting with each passing moment as they speak. I can’t believe that so many children revere these characters who sound so vapid and simple that it drives me mad.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Unfortunately, what the little man likes has little to do with me these days. Each day he is growing more and more independent. If I want to encourage this trend in my son, then I have no choice but to allow Bob to be Thomas’s replacement and hope that it is only for a brief period of time. We all know how easily swayed a toddler’s whims are. I just hope that the little dobber doesn’t decide to stick forget about his old friend “Thomas the Tank Engine.” Yet, should he then know this my poor, poor beloved Thomas. Your untimely downfall will be noted in the history books as the work of a masterful betrayal, and you will forever have a place in <i>my</i> heart if not in my son’s. Farewell, for now, my friend and rest easy knowing that I will do what I can to win you back into the little man’s favor.</span><o:p></o:p></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6433823038134605472-5137963392145155173?l=advicefordads.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Blogger Dad Perrea90http://www.blogger.com/profile/16951480388151932468perrea90@yahoo.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6433823038134605472.post-48223662959090549642011-02-02T16:14:00.002-05:002011-02-02T16:47:54.343-05:002011-02-02T16:47:54.343-05:00"It's ok. I do Child Care." said Ms. Piggy.<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">A few days ago I went out shopping with the little man and the little wife. While perusing the aisles of various foodstuffs I overheard this lady speaking to what I supposed to be her son. Well, anyway, she was just berating this kid, calling him all sorts of names and telling him how stupid he was. I really felt like I should intervene, but if I have learned anything in my almost thirty years of life, I have learned that sometimes when you mean well and get involved in a domestic situation like this it just turns out very poorly for the victim later on. So, I ignored her as best as I could, hoping that she would have the common courtesy to keep it quiet at least. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Later on, while we were at the checkout, this same lady with the vulgar mouth and bad attitude gets in line behind us. Of course she was still berating the poor kid, albeit more quietly than before. Apparently, she didn’t want the checkout operator to think poorly of her parenting skills or something.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Anyway, she says something a bit louder which made me turn to look at her questioningly. Well, we made eye contact and the first thing I really noticed about her was that she strongly resembled Ms. Piggy from The Muppets. Oddly enough, the name seems to suit that lady well because she not only looks like her, but she also has a piggish personality to go with it too. The second thing that struck me as odd was that she flippantly said, “It’s ok. I do childcare.” I didn’t reply. I was too busy trying to determine what the heck she meant by that and wondering if she knew that she looked like that famous pig. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">It was all too much for me to take in at once. I mean really, who wouldn’t be a little taken aback if Ms. Piggy came up and spoke to them, especially if she said <i>that</i> after acting like a child abusing bully? Did this woman honestly believe that her behavior was justified because she was a babysitter? I hope not. In reality, she probably didn’t think anything of it. There was just an air of nonchalance about it that I found so disturbing. But, who am I to question a professional?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">It took me until I got into the parking lot to really understand what Ms. Piggy was saying and meant. Apparently, she was not referring to her previous behavior. She was referring to us, my wife and I, and our lack of paying attention to the little man. She was saying that our son had some paper in his mouth. It was when my wife replied to her that Ms. Piggy said, “It’s ok. I do childcare.” Thankfully, I caught myself before I said, “Thank god you don’t watch my kid!” </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Instead I chose to remain silent because she seemed to be the type of person that was perfectly fine with throwing a totally toddler-esque tantrum in the middle of the store. I might be wrong, but based on her behavior with her son or whatever he was to her I don’t think that I am. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Since then, I have wondered just how desperate I would have to be to let a person like that watch my son. If she treats her own kid that badly you know she isn’t going to treat your child that well either. I bet she could hold it together just long enough to get you out of the house, but after that all bets are off. Just think. There are probably millions of babysitters just like her, which is exactly why my wife and I have decided to have one of us, me, stay at home with our baby boy. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Frankly, I am quite disturbed that there seems to be an abundance of sitters like Ms. Piggy who have no problems swearing around your kids, letting the television watch over your kids, or letting someone else’s older child clothe and change your baby’s diapers. I know I am not being fair to this poor woman I haven’t even talked to, but I can’t help feeling and thinking that if it looks like trash, sounds like trash, and smells like trash than chances are it is trash. Sure, it may not be true, but I am willing to play on the probability that it is.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">It is because of Ms. Piggy and all the other sitters like her that it is so important for parents to interview prospective babysitters thoroughly. You have to actually go and visit them and get a feel for how they do things. Preferably, go when there are children there so you can see if they are happy or not. Ask a ton of questions. Any decent babysitter won’t mind in the least if you want to talk to them before you make the decision of whether or not you want them to look after your child when you can’t. It’s a huge decision not to be made lightly. It is also important to communicate regularly with the sitter after you choose one. I would even suggest stopping in early to retrieve your child every once in a while just to see that everything is how you want it to be. When your little on is involved, there is no such thing as too careful, and if you accidently chose a Ms. Piggy for a sitter when you didn’t mean to, then the sooner you know the better. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6433823038134605472-4822366295909054964?l=advicefordads.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Blogger Dad Perrea90http://www.blogger.com/profile/16951480388151932468perrea90@yahoo.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6433823038134605472.post-68302277265713465162011-01-31T13:30:00.003-05:002011-01-31T13:49:11.169-05:002011-01-31T13:49:11.169-05:00Books that Meet the Little man's Approval<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">As is the case with movies, there are certain books that my little man just adores. We sit and read and reread these books multiple times daily. Personally, I don't understand the appeal of them, but I am not the one who matters here. I am just glad that he is enjoying reading them with me even if that means I have to read the same story one hundred times a day. I'll do it. But, there is a bright side to his love of books. He will sit and listen to just about any stories, which means I can read to him from a book that I actually like too occasionally. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">You wouldn't believe how many of these children's books nowadays are just gibberish and words on a page. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Luckily, he isn't too thrilled with many of these non-story books, but,</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> unfortunately, I end up having to read some stories like these to him too because he likes the pictures. Oh the woes of fatherhood! </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I am just kidding so please no e-mails about what a terrible person I am. I love to read to my son and spend time with him. That is the whole point of my blog, and the point of this specific posting is to point out a few of his favorite kiddy books that your kiddo might like too.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LxTPjl7doNA/TUb28-T04GI/AAAAAAAAADA/XcV7qwPF12I/s1600/Knuffle+Bunny.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"></span></a><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">It was hard to narrow these down, but here are his top ten favorites.</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
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</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">1.) <u><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Knuffle-Bunny-Cautionary-Mo-Willems/dp/0786818700/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1296499564&sr=1-1">Knuffle Bunny a Cautionary Tale</a></u> written and illustrated by Mo Willems</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LxTPjl7doNA/TUb28-T04GI/AAAAAAAAADA/XcV7qwPF12I/s1600/Knuffle+Bunny.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LxTPjl7doNA/TUb28-T04GI/AAAAAAAAADA/XcV7qwPF12I/s1600/Knuffle+Bunny.jpg" /></span></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">This is my son's most absolute favorite book to read with me ever! The illustrations in it are quite fascinating and it actually has a cute little story to go with them. I'll try not to destroy the ending for you in my brief description. I know that I hate it when people do that to me. It kind of takes all the suspense and fun out of reading the thing in the first place.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Anyway, <u>Knuffle Bunny</u> is about a little girl and her favorite stuffed animal. They go out on a laundry washing adventure with the little girl's daddy, but, unfortunately, lose her favorite stuffed friend. The rest of the book is a detailed description of what the girl and her family went through to find the stuffed animal again. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I am quite glad that this is my baby's favorite book in the whole world because, believe it or not, I kind of like it too. It is on of the few books that he has that I don't mind reading over and over again like a broken record. Like I said, the story is cute and the pictures are pretty neat too. If my wife and I have thanked my son's favorite auntie and uncle already, we haven't thanked them enough for giving him this nice little story as a gift.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
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</span></div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LxTPjl7doNA/TUb3Us6tUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/aSFX71GPudk/s1600/I+udderly+love+you.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LxTPjl7doNA/TUb3Us6tUaI/AAAAAAAAADE/aSFX71GPudk/s1600/I+udderly+love+you.jpg" /></span></a><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">2.) <u><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Udderly-Love-You-Kate-Toms/dp/1846104602/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1296499515&sr=1-1">I Udderly Love You!</a></u> written by Kate Toms (I do not know who illustrated it) </span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
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</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I would like to say that it was hard to decide which book the little man liked more, <u>I Udderly Love You!</u> or <u>Knuffle Bunny</u>, but that would really be a lie. However, that doesn't mean that my son doesn't love this book too. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><u>I Udderly Love You!</u> is a story about a mother love for her child. It is quite cute and touchy feelie with appealing illustrations. It is another book that my son can sit read with either my wife or myself for hours and hours. Therefore, it gets my baby's stamped seal of approval. It also happens to be one of my wifes favorites too, so I'll throw her seal of approval in too.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
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</span></div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LxTPjl7doNA/TUb3sUzQt9I/AAAAAAAAADI/-jAWTuivjFE/s1600/If+you+give+a+cat+a+cupcake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LxTPjl7doNA/TUb3sUzQt9I/AAAAAAAAADI/-jAWTuivjFE/s1600/If+you+give+a+cat+a+cupcake.jpg" /></span></a><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">3.) <u><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Give-Cupcake-GIVE-CUPCAKE-Hardcover/dp/B002VLMJ50/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1296499473&sr=1-2">If You Give a Cat a Cupcake</a></u> written by Laura Numeroff and illustrated by Felicia Bond</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
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</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">It took some major consideration as to whether the little man ranked this as his second or third all time favorite book, but in the end we decided it was definitely third on his list. The deciding factor was the fact the he didn't run around with it all over the house, that and my wife likes <u>I Udderly Love You!</u> more. So, the decision was made.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Of all my son's books, this is perhaps my favorite to read to him. I really like the Illustrations and it is really fun to act out the story line with him as we read it together. This book is about a quirky cat and all the mayhem a single cupcake can create in a day. It's a fun read that is even more fun to re-enact with your little one as you read it together. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LxTPjl7doNA/TUb4BRbxbnI/AAAAAAAAADM/HpqJYzO90sY/s1600/Freight+Train.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LxTPjl7doNA/TUb4BRbxbnI/AAAAAAAAADM/HpqJYzO90sY/s1600/Freight+Train.jpg" /></span></a><br />
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<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">4.)<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Freight-Train-Big-Book-Mulberry/dp/0688129404/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1296499440&sr=1-1"> <u>Freight Train</u></a> written by Donald Crews</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">This is a colorful book that uses the primary colors to distinguish different train cars connected to a freight train. This is one of the little man's favorite potty time books. He will just sit and stare at all the colorful pictures, turning back and forth between the pages for quite some time until his attention is drawn to something else, which may not happen if I don't initiate it.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LxTPjl7doNA/TUb6f3ktgfI/AAAAAAAAADQ/tZBrwBt9LBc/s1600/GEDC0142.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"></span></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
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</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LxTPjl7doNA/TUb6f3ktgfI/AAAAAAAAADQ/tZBrwBt9LBc/s1600/GEDC0142.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LxTPjl7doNA/TUb6f3ktgfI/AAAAAAAAADQ/tZBrwBt9LBc/s320/GEDC0142.JPG" width="320" /></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">5.) <u><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Book-Baby-Animals-Nancy-Jones/dp/B000FUO0K6/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1296499410&sr=1-1">My Big Book of Baby Animals</a></u> (Unfortunately, I am not sure who wrote this book, and there are multiple photographic contributors)</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">This is perhaps the perfect book for a toddler who loves animals. There are probably one hundred different photographs in this book all showing different baby animals. With each photograph there is even a brief caption that gives information about the animal it portrays. It is an interesting book, and I think I like it maybe a little more than the little man, but I know he likes it a lot too.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LxTPjl7doNA/TUb6_kLSoBI/AAAAAAAAADU/bFajJ9QF5Es/s1600/hungry+caterpillar.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LxTPjl7doNA/TUb6_kLSoBI/AAAAAAAAADU/bFajJ9QF5Es/s1600/hungry+caterpillar.jpg" /></span></a><br />
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<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">6.) <u><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Very-Hungry-Caterpillar-Eric-Carle/dp/0399226230/ref=sr_1_5?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1296499376&sr=1-5">The Very Hungry Caterpillar</a></u> by Eric Carle</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">We received this book as a gift from the hospital where my son was born, and he absolutely loved it for several months. It was the perfect size from him to chew on and hold on to. He still really enjoys it, but for different reasons. Frequently, he will bring to me so we can read it together and then he will flip through it and look at all the beautiful illustrations.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">It is a book that describes a caterpillars journey into becoming a beautiful butterfly. It has a cute little story that provides some information as well. </span></div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LxTPjl7doNA/TUb7hXRp6VI/AAAAAAAAADY/yDIH3_KF07w/s1600/spider.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LxTPjl7doNA/TUb7hXRp6VI/AAAAAAAAADY/yDIH3_KF07w/s1600/spider.jpg" /></span></a><br />
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</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">7.) <u><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Miss-Spiders-Book-David-Kirk/dp/B003YCQF6E/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1296499338&sr=1-1">Miss Spider's ABC</a></u> by David Kirk</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">This is an ABC book that is very colorful and cute. Each letter is a different insect that is preparing for Miss Spider's birthday party.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">My son will just sit and flip through the pages of this book and marvel at all the colorful illustrations. At this point he doesn't seem too interested in the story because he doesn't like it read to him too often. He really prefers to control the book himself and look at the pictures at his leisure. It is a captivating book for him.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LxTPjl7doNA/TUb8wBKWefI/AAAAAAAAADc/CfdKGZpo-l0/s1600/GEDC0143.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LxTPjl7doNA/TUb8wBKWefI/AAAAAAAAADc/CfdKGZpo-l0/s320/GEDC0143.JPG" width="240" /></span></a><br />
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<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">8.) <u><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Friendly-Animals-First-Giant-Book/dp/0752552627/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1296499287&sr=1-1">My First Giant Book of Friendly Animals</a></u></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">This is another animal/word book. The little dobber loves to look through it as I point out the different animals in it and the sounds that they make. He is quite fond of the fowls, of which I believe the duck is his favorite. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">This book has large thick cardboard pages that are easy for little finger to grab hold of and turn on their own. It is a really good choice for the animal loving toddler in your family.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
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<div style="text-align: justify;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LxTPjl7doNA/TUb9AKxOAsI/AAAAAAAAADg/KcOhZNOMtzA/s1600/Baby.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LxTPjl7doNA/TUb9AKxOAsI/AAAAAAAAADg/KcOhZNOMtzA/s1600/Baby.jpg" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">9.) <u><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Where-Babys-Mommy-Karen-Katz/dp/0689835612/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1296499160&sr=1-1">Where is Baby's Mommy</a></u> by Karen Katz</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">What infant book collection would be complete with out the occasional flip up book. This is exactly what this book is. It is a colorful flip up book that my boy loves to sit and look at and occasionally tear up. The only problem that he has with this book is when I don't turn the pages fast enough for him. I never realized that books could be so exciting!</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
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<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">10.) <u><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Where-Wild-Things-Maurice-Sendak/dp/0060254920/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1296499000&sr=1-1">Where the Wild Things Are</a></u> by Maurice Sendak</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">This is one of my all time favorite children's book. I absolutely love the illustrations and the story is nice too. It's about a mischievous character named Max who gets into trouble with his momma and gets sent to bed with out supper. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I know that my son does not love this book as much as I do, but that doesn't matter because I know that he still likes it even if it is not his favorite book and that is enough for me. The little man will still sit and listen to it and ask to hear it again, which is why it is on his top ten list. I firmly believe that this one of those must have books for anyone that has a little one of their own. It even has the line, "Oh please don't go-we'll eat you up-we love you so!" How can you </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">go wrong?</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">P.s. You can find all these books on amazon.com. Also I apologize for the links not working properly. I wanted them to take you the the page where you can purchase them. I am going to try and fix them, but if you cannot wait until I figure out how I messed it up you can just do a search for them at <a href="http://www.amazon.com/">www.amazon.com</a></span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6433823038134605472-6830227726571346516?l=advicefordads.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Blogger Dad Perrea90http://www.blogger.com/profile/16951480388151932468perrea90@yahoo.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6433823038134605472.post-78110192899993349212011-01-28T10:59:00.000-05:002011-01-28T10:59:11.165-05:002011-01-28T10:59:11.165-05:00Movies that meet The Little Man's Approval<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Before the little man was born my wife and I enjoyed our movie night, but now that we have baby boy with us it is getting difficult to find child appropriate movies that we enjoy and he enjoys too. Sure he’ll watch just about anything with us on family movie night, but there are only a few movies that he really enjoys. Yes he enjoys watching the Shrek movies, the Dr. Doolittle movies, and the other popular movies tailored for kiddo’s, but he holds a special place in his heart for only a select few. Here is a list of the top ten of his favorites. If you haven't watched them with your kiddos you might want to try them out. Well, at least they didn't drive me bonkers the first time I watched any of them. No, that didn't happen until we watched the same movie 20 times or so.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Anyway, here they are:</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
<u><span style="text-transform: uppercase;"><o:p></o:p></span></u></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">1.) <u>Babies:</u> Directed by Thomas Balmes, rated PG, and it came out in 2010.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">This movie is like crack to my baby. He just can't get enough of it. It is a documentary style film that shows the first year of life from four different babies around the world. It is kind of cool to see how people from different cultures interact with their infants and how similar we all are.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">2.)<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span><u>Thomas’ and Friends: Songs from the Station (Thomas the Tank Engine):</u> Directed by David Mitton, Unrated and it came out in 2005.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">This is another film that is like crack to the little man. I am especially glad to have it in our repertoire because it is only 40 minutes long or so. As far as I am concerned it is one of the wonders of this world because somehow this manages to stop the little tantrums that are now developing to appear and watching this can instantly quiet the little tyke down and make him sit still. It is another movie that is exactly as it sounds. it's songs from various Thomas the Tank Engine episodes. Since the little man loves music we watch this at least once a day to quiet down for nap time. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">3.)<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span><u>Pingu:</u> I don't know who directed these or what they are rated, but I know they came out in 2004.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The Pingu stuff is all claymation and pretty cute. It is basically a little penguin that does all this crazy stuff. I am not sure how to describe it other than it is foreign and claymation. The little man has enjoyed Pingu since he came home from the hospital and hasn't grown tired of it since. My wife and I like it because it isn't always all fluffy and sweet and it is easy to understand even if you don't know whatever language is being spoken. I think it may be gibberish, but every once in a while I can pick out a few words in there, so I am not sure about my original assessment.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">4.)<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span><u>Ponyo:</u> Directed by Hayao Miyazaki<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"> </span>rated G, and released in 2008.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">The little man loves this flick because it is typical anime. It is very colorful and flashy. My wife enjoys it because it is a cute story about a kid and his goldfish who wants to become human I guess. Truthfully, I am not much of an anime fan, but I know that the boy likes this one a lot, so maybe your kids will too. I just don't like shrieking kids that all anime seems to thrive on.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">5.) <u>Fantasia:</u> This has multiple Directors, rated G, and was released in 1940.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">This is one of the must haves if your kid is like mine. He loves the music and the cartoon characters dancing around to it. We rented it from Netflix and I am not sure how many times we watched it before sending it back. Now, I am desperately searching for it to own it. For some reason the new Fantasia just doesn't cut it with the little man. </span></span></div><div class="MsoListParagraph" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">6.) <u>Open Season 2:</u> directed by Matthew O'Callaghan and Todd Wilderman, rated PG, and released in 2008.</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraph" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">This is a goofy animated movie that we found terribly clever and funny. We really enjoyed watching this with the little man. Truthfully, I would enjoy this even if I didn't have a kid. It is about wild animals trying to rescue one of their buddies, who is a runaway house pet, from a life of pampered domesticity after his former owners found him. It is pretty hilarious. We especially like Roger the cat.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">7.) <u>Bee Movie:</u> Directed by Steve Hicknor and Simon J. Smith, Rated PG, and was released in 2007.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Another goofy animated film that the little man cannot get enough of. It's about a bee who isn't satisfied with his life. He discovers that humans have been stealing bee's honey for years and decides to get it back. This is another kids flick that I don't mind watching when the little man is sleeping. It's a movie that is geared for the whole family, so there is humor that might not be appreciated by the kiddo's but the adults will find amusing.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">8.) <u>Moonlight Serenade:</u> Directed by Giancarlo Tallarico, rateg PG-13, and released in 2006.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">This is a movie that we happened to stumble across and found out the the little dobber really enjoyed it. It is a fluffy romantic musical about an aspiring jazz singer. The plot is kind of weak, but that doesn't bother my 11 month old. He's in it for the music. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">9.) <u>The Adventures of Milo and Otis:</u> Directed by Masanori Hata, rated G, and released in 1989.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">My little man loves dogs and cats, which is why he will sit through this slow moving film. It is all about a little dog and his kitty cat friend who separate from each other and then find their way back to each other's furry little arms. Honestly, I enjoyed it the first time I watched it, but I am simple. It kind of grew out of favor for the little man, but he will still sit and watch it for about a half hour, which must mean he still likes it because he is willing to stop moving for a little while to pay attention to it. If you have a kid you understand that that is a major feat.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">10.) <u>Fly Away Home:</u> Directed by Carroll Ballard, Rated PG, and released in 1996.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">This movie is about a little girl's quest to get a flock of goslings to learn to migrate. It is cute. My wife and I enjoyed the story, and the little guy liked the honking geese. What else could you want? </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Well, there are my little man's top ten favorite movies. There are a few others that were close to making the list like Dot the Kangaroo, but he seemed to stop liking it recently. If your kids have any movies that they really enjoy watching feel free to post it in a comment or e-mail them to me and I add them to my list of Little People approved movies.</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraph" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><o:p></o:p></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6433823038134605472-7811019289999334921?l=advicefordads.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Blogger Dad Perrea90http://www.blogger.com/profile/16951480388151932468perrea90@yahoo.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6433823038134605472.post-88269273369152521182011-01-26T10:44:00.000-05:002011-01-26T10:44:38.084-05:002011-01-26T10:44:38.084-05:00What to do With that Old, Crappy Cell Phone<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Yesterday I ended up purchasing a new cell phone because the old one was going through a midlife crisis or something. It more or less decided that it didn’t want to work sometimes, but other times it was just fine. Anyway, I replaced it with the Samsung Convoy, which is pretty cool, but this left me with the problem of deciding what to do with the old phone. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">You see, I hate to throw out the old phones because I always assume that the new phone is going to crap out on me. I still have an ancient LG phone that was sent through the washer and fried. I know I am never going to use it again. All it is doing is taking up space, but I still hesitate to toss it out. So now, I have two useless phones just lying around gathering dust. Fortunately for me, my wife made an executive decision last night and did something I swore to myself that I would never do. She gave our tiny tot the eldest cellphone to play with. At first I was leery of doing so, but after a while I couldn’t see any harm in it and now I actually think it is a great idea.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Before my baby boy was even born I had a major problem with the thought of giving my baby an old dilapidated cellphone to play with. I observed that a lot of parents were doing this and it seemed like their brats were just destroying any cellphone that they could get their hands on. In my mind I thought, “Haha! Serves you right for teaching your kids that Cellphones and remotes are toys.” Now, after having a toddler of my own, I am more than just a little embarrassed to admit that I just didn’t understand then, and had no right to feel so self-important. It just never occurred to me that these people were substituting something that was safe and alright to play with for something that wasn’t. Brilliant!!! How come I didn’t see that then? Think of all the problems that would have avoided if I had. I am such a dope! <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">If you have kids you know that if there is something inappropriate for them to play with they will find it. To a toddler anything and everything is a toy and fair game. This includes anything that they can pick up, climb on, jump on, jump off, or anything that they could possibly hurt themselves with. I don’t know about anyone else, but I have found no way to discourage this behavior short of locking up absolutely everything I don’t want the little man to play with, and locking him away from everything else that I can’t stow away from him. I feel like I am a bad parent because I haven’t provided him with a padded cell for his own safety, but that is just not practical. It is way simpler to focus his attention on something that I actually want him to play with. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I used to leave my phone and television remote on the couch tucked back in the corner, naively thinking that the little man can’t reach them. Well, after months of him finding a way to reach them and subsequently run off with them you would think that I would change my mindset. Nope, you’re wrong. Apparently, I am as stupid as I am stubborn. I realize now that my cellphone didn't commit suicide my baby boy murdered it. That little man just managed to get his grubby little hands on it too often. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Well, if I had thought of giving him the ancient cell phone earlier I might have saved the not so old cell phone from certain death. Now I see why so many other parents give their little owns old cell phones and remotes to play with. They aren’t really teaching their kids that these items are toys. These parents are saving themselves from the hassle of searching for or replacing the actual, working cell phone and remotes by providing their monsters with something else to play with that is more appropriate. Man I wish I would have thought of this sooner. My wife is a genius! <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
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</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6433823038134605472-8826927336915252118?l=advicefordads.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Blogger Dad Perrea90http://www.blogger.com/profile/16951480388151932468perrea90@yahoo.com0