babies are da bomb

When we brought home our first baby we might as well brought home one of those motion sensitive explosives you see in the movies. You know, where if someone moves too quickly the whole place goes kablooey? Usually there's a click and then someone spots blinking light or a hears an ever increasing beep beep. The baby equivalent is a persistent scream that seems to get exponentially louder the longer it goes on.

My wife read all the books about what to expect so she was completely prepared to defuse any situation, or so she thought. I, on the other hand, had not read the books and instead relied completely on parental instincts handed down from years of evolution.

Anyway, once your infant is home things are pretty relaxed. Baby sleeps a lot. Sure there are the normal cries for food or diaper changes. But sometimes you can't stop the wailing with food or fresh pants.

As the crying gets louder and goes on longer things get a little more frantic. Your baby seems to be trying to tell you something like, "Cut the blue wire! Blue wire!" But you don't understand, so you check the diaper again. Change the outfit. Offer some milk. Check the milk to see if it's the right temperature. Shake the baby rattle. Give some medicine for gas. Hold baby on shoulder. Lay baby on back. Lay baby on tummy. Wonder if you can give Tylenol in conjunction with gas medicine. Sing. Sing a different song (Take me out to the ballgame is just as good as any lullabye in this situation). Maybe baby doesn't like the words so, hum. All the while the screaming persists and you feel the fuse is lit fuse and approaching its payload fast.

Somehow, miraculously I discovered my first born found the sound of running water soothing. Whew! And when baby number two began to scream "BLUE WIRE" I went straight to the running water only find it was the bathroom fan that defused him.

I knew the running water was a temporary fix and I was going to need to make a calming mechanism for him. One day during a nap I took some multi-colored Christmas lights and pinned them to the ceiling in a decorative pattern above the rocking chair. Each night, momma would rock baby to sleep and he would just stare at the lights and the lights became an alternative to the running water.

My second born found lights not to be soothing but exciting instead. A bigger problem with him was that sometimes he would get all agitated on the changing table. Often throwing a fit, kicking his feet, twisting about, putting his hands in the last place you would want and generally being uncooperative.

To contaminate the volatile situation, I took a page from my dentist. On ceiling over the patient's chairs my dentist has placed "really busy" posters so they can look at something while work is being done. My toddler still has his undersea poster above his changing table. While I change him, I ask him to count the fish, the turtles, dolphins etc.

So if you're unclear which wire your baby is telling you to cut, remain calm. Take a page out of my manual. Put some eye candy on the ceiling. Sing the baseball anthem. Get a mouthful of water and do your impression of a whale. Wear a diaper on your head. Get as silly as you have to. Just know the episode will likely pass as quickly as it came on.

Of course if it does persist, call your doctor and never, ever shake the baby.

Pushing and letting go - Or - When the training wheels are off.

For my son's 5th birthday, we bought him his first bike. Compared to my first bike, a hand-me-down from my aunt outfitted with a banana seat, ape-hanger handle bars with pink and white streamers, his bike was greased lightning. His ride - royal blue, neon green, flame details, pads in all the right places, a water bottle and a racing number displayed in front. Any boy's dream bike right?

Well, the boy upon seeing the gift, hopped on for a photo-opp. We captured the huge smile and the excitement and then, as he was dismounting, he caught a foot and went splat, palms flat on the pavement. At that moment, the bike became a monster and I wished I'd have bought a Razor Scooter instead of a bike (more on this later).

He still had plenty of time to conquer his fear of the bike, so we didn't push the issue. The following year, shortly before his 6th birthday, his interest in riding picked up when he saw his friends riding without training wheels. He decided it was time to slay the beast... well, at least ride it with training wheels on.

A few weeks of riding with training wheels, and I thought he was ready to have the cheaters off. The training wheels may have comforted him but they worried me terribly. Steering with training wheels makes the rider top-heavy and there's a likelihood of catching a wheel in a groove.

The more I pushed learning to ride the bike, the harder he refused. I tried reasoning, "...look at all the people riding bike. I wonder why they do it? Probably because it's fun." I tried bribing, "if we do 15 minutes of bike, we'll have Dairy Queen." We even witnessed a kid taking a spill and getting right back on to ride away, "wow, must be really fun if he wants to get back on after a digger like that."

Another year passed.

My neighbor has a boy younger than my oldest and I saw him riding on two wheels. I asked his dad how he taught his son to ride. He said he didn't. He bought his son a Razor Scooter the year prior and that's where he learned to balance. One day he just picked up the bike and rode it. This was the 2nd time I had heard the Razor Scooter was the key to learning bike so I knew it wasn't a fluke.

So I ask my boy "ever tried one of those scooters." Silence. " What do you say we go get one of those fancy Razor Scooters? "No thanks."

The better part of summer passed and finally, I had enough. I made him practice on back the lawn 15 minutes a day. Somedays he just sat on the bike not really trying - just doing "his time." I think once he realized I wasn't pushing him to ride, or in other terms, I "let go" of caring so much he began to try.

Of course I was pretending not to care. I was watching the whole time; biting my tongue trying not to encourage or help.

After a bit I realized his struggles were steering in rough grass and keeping both feet on the pedals on bumpy ground. It was time to take him to the outdoor basketball court. He was terrified of going ker-plat on the pavement, but I showed him he could go into the grass if he felt he was losing control or wanted to stop.

On the walk to the park, I held on to the bike as he rode. He began to pedal and I released my control of the bike, keeping my hands near his torso until I felt he had "it." Before we even reached the basketball court, my son was riding unassisted.

As predicted, he loves riding. Can't get him off the bike now.

But for all the grief he put me through, I'm definitely getting a Razor Scooter for my next up-and-coming riders.

After it was all said and done. He wouldn't have got on the bike if I hadn't pushed the issue. And he wouldn't have learned to ride it if I hadn't let go.

The potty chair and the psychiatrist's couch

Short of having the throne with a sports, cars or BBQ theme, the dad's spin on potty training will have to wait 'til we're ready to "AIM AND FIRE!" For right now, it's about getting him to listen to what his body is saying.

With my oldest son, the advice was to "... just wait, don't rush it. He'll catch on when he's ready." Whatever. That advice had us in diapers forever. My toddler is able to tell me what he wants through gestures or nearly undecipherable words- clear signs he's ready to learn the wonders of indoor plumbing.

Follow my logic here. Your kid has known diapers since moments after birth. The longer he or she remains in diapers, the harder it will be to train them to use the toilet. The earlier you introduce the throne to him or her, the easier the transition should go.

Step 1, get out the chair and let the kid see it. Don't force anything, just let it be there as if it were any piece of furniture. Don't even call attention to it. Let the child discover it and when he does, say something like "that's for you when you're ready." It may be sitting out months before you're ready to take the next step, but the fewer things that are new and freaky to him, the better.

Step 2 in my process was to pull out the fun potty training videos. I highly recommend the potty training video "Bear in the Big Blue House." Anyway, my toddler watched that video over and over again - not because the subject matter was so riveting, but because it was new to him. Something must have stuck, because taking to the chair was fairly easy. After about 2 weeks of that video, we we're ready to take the next steps.

Step 3 is placing the reward. My toddler is a freak for fruit snacks so I bought a box and placed it in the bathroom in a highly visible but unreachable place. My friend says she used a jar of M&M's. Whatever trips your kid's trigger right?

Step 4 is taking notice of your child's natural rythm and tendencies. Does your kid need new diapers before or after eating, sleeping and waking? Those are good times to try the chair.

I began to notice his diapers were fairly dry in the morning comparatively and thought I'd set him up for success by placing him on the john when he potentially would go. Well, he didn't produce anything that first time, but I rewarded him with a fruit snack for trying. The next morning, he told me his word for fruit snack (sounds like bean - don't ask me why) and so I sat him on the chair again and viola! A few high fives all around and the all important fruit snack reward and I could see the light at the end of the diaper tunnel.

Potty training is a big deal. If done poorly, there's a real danger in emotionally scarring your child for life. If you don't want your child seeking psychiatric help well into his adulthood because of the potty training phase, appreciate the tiniest steps forward. Just sitting on the chair without producing anything is a monumental step forward. Heck, even having an accident is a sign your child is on his way to becoming potty trained.

One last thing, appreciate that your kid is in diapers, because soon as he's in big boy underpants, that little bladder has to go ALL the time.

Crime & Punishment

If we didn't love our kids we would let them do whatever they wanted. But since we want the best for them, we guide and teach.

For the first few years, the timeout was working. But now that my son is a school ager, I've abandoned the time-out in favor of a method I've developed myself.

I call it the SvS method or Smart versus Strong method. Here's the logic behind it. It seems really smart kids are rarely the most physically fit and vice versa - the most physically fit kids are rarely the sharpest knives in the drawer. This disciple technique aims to create balance.

For instance, my oldest son is very smart for his age, but physically a bit behind his age group. So when it comes to his crimes of the mind, he's sentence is push-ups, sit-ups and deep knee bends. If he makes a crime of the body, such as beating up his little brother, he has to tell me different ways he could have handled the situation.

The timeout method says to give the kid one minute solitary for every year of life. 2 years old = 2 minutes timeout. I've adopted the same ratio for the SvS. For every year of life there's a push-up, sit-up, deep knee bend and alternative method of conduct.

I will say this, as opposed to grounding or long sustained punishments - like no something for a week - this method is quick and so far it's showing promise. My son is finding the excercises are getting easier to do - so that's nice. And the alternative methods we talk through are helping him discover there is more than one way to skin a little brother.

winning the vegetable war

Milo had to be about Liam's age when he categorically refused to eat anything of color. We call it the "White Menu Phase." Turkey, chicken, rice, mashed potatoes, pears and apples were about the only things he would eat.

Liam has had his own phases. One included only eating round things - peas, blueberries, KIX cereal and cheese balls. But recently, Liam has begun to expel certain foods. He puts them in his mouth, chews them, then spits them into his hand and hands the whole mess to you. He'll then put more of the item in his mouth and repeat the process. You have to admire his optimism that the next bite may be better than the previous twelve. 

We had a bit of an advantage with Milo because he was talking (and very well I might add) which meant we could negotiate. "Eat two carrots and after dinner you can have ice cream," (vanilla of course). Slowly and painfully, his pallete expanded. But since Liam isn't as advanced verbally, we had to resort to more creative methods.

We had a big break through after discovering Jerry Seinfeld's wife's cookbook, "Deceptively Delicious." Her whole system of blending vegetables into foods kids eat is a bit too elaborate for me (seriously, who wants to spend a day each week pureeing egg plant and squash). So I took the basic principles of it and modified them. For starters, I decided to skip the blending and pureeing and freezing steps, and went for the frozen equivalents in the grocer's freezer isle. For initial test, I thought I'd try frozen, pureed squash and chopped spinach. 

To see if this whole approach was worth it, I decided to make Sneaky Mac & Cheese. And even without pureeing my own fresh squash, it was a giant success. My oldest noticed a difference but said it wasn't bad. And to be honest, I hate squash but found when blended in, it's not so bad.  

To make Mac N Cheese Supree (that's French for surprise), the first thing to do is, buy a different brand of Mac & Cheese. Jerry's wife says to leave the box visible when serving it so if there's a noticeable difference in taste it will be attributed to the new brand. Next, cut a frozen 12 oz package of squash in half or thirds (a good serrated knife works fine). Make Mac & Cheese as instructed. Nuke the frozen squash for a min or two 'til mostly thawed while pasta boils. Add the squash when you add the milk, butter and cheese powder. Viola'!

Spinach has a few more options. I add half a frozen package to spaghetti and lasagna. And I slice a half inch off the frozen block and sprinkle on frozen pizzas or breakfast items like omelets and messes. A mess is much like a skillet breakfast but its recipe varies depending on what leftovers you have in the fridge that can plausibly pass for breakfast ingredients. Basically scrambled eggs, potatoes, said spinach, salami (MmmMmm salami), cheese and whatever else you feel like.

These few recipes have eliminated a lot of stress (and mess) from our family meal time. Hope they help with your picky eaters.

Making Tiger Woods

When it comes to baseball, Milo has some mad skills. He's textbook perfect when fielding grounders and fly balls. Makes the across the body catches look easy. He bats left for power and right for average. And he's not even 8 years old.

The moment that fueled this passion for America's game - The Minnesota Twins '06 season. He was approaching his 5th birthday and our home town 9 were way back in the pennant race. Like so far back they were pretty much written out of the postseason half way through the regular season. Despite all odds, they made a monumental comeback and won the Central Division that year.

But let's not get too far ahead of ourselves... So it's nearing the end of the regular season. The Twins have come back from like 12.5 games back and are contending for the division title. I'm totally riveted to the drama. Memories of the '87 and '91 World Series flashed in my head.

Milo had no idea any this was going on. All he wanted was my attention. We'd color or do puzzles or play dinosaurs but always within sight of the game. In the middle of said play, there would be some spectacular play and I'd cheer. Uhm, that's a bit of an understatement. Yeah, I cheered the kind of cheer that would make you say you didn't know me.

Anyway, I have this theory that in order to get my attentionhe decided he was going to have to be a professional baseball player. My theory stems from my own experience with my father.

My father's passion for golf is what inspired me to go into advertising. When he wasn't on the course, he was watching it on TV. Watching golf is not like watching baseball. It's more of a quiet sport, so even watching it is more quiet. Dad was in the zone when he was watching golf. The only signs of life came during commercials. He'd laugh at a beer commercial. I'm no psychologist but I'm pretty sure I made a career choice from a desire to make dad laugh.

When I asked Milo what he wanted to be when he grew up, he said not surprisingly, he wanted to be a Minnesota Twin. For his 6th birthday, I got him a glove. A nice, soft Wilson A200. Every night after dinner, weather permitting, he and I would play catch in the backyard til the sun went down. He loves to catch pop flies so I would tell him, "I'll throw sky-high pop flies all night after you catch 10 (insert catch here. ex. cross-over catches)." Obviously, it worked.

I don't know if this adds more validity to my theory, only time will tell, but when Milo and I were playing catch, baby Liam would be inside pounding on the sliding glass door vying for my attention. Not that unusual I suppose, but here's where even Rod Serling would be a little freaked out. Liam's first word was "ball."

do do do do, do do do do, do do do do, do do do do ( <--that's Twilight Zone theme music)

Like father like son.

I'm four years old or so and having a serious conversation with my parents. Dad is visibly upset. The subject matter seems eerily familiar.

Mom asks, "Where do we draw?"

I'm dumbfounded. "Wow, if she doesn't know the answer, my future is in serious jeopardy."

Thankfully, she answers her own question, "On paper."

I nod in agreement. "Oh yeah.. paper," I think to myself.

We had had this conversation before, but ususally it occurred in front of a wall. Naturally, I was a bit confused. I mean, technically I hadn't been drawing. I was carving. Tic Tac Toe in my dad's dresser. And despite my best efforts, all the games ended in a tie.

I was too young to be punished. But I remember feeling bad. Or maybe it was that the whole ordeal was told over and over to everyone. Grandmas, aunts and uncles all heard what I had done. I heard mom tell every detail over the phone.

Years later, had to be somewhere in my early teens, I had committed another offense of some sort. This time dad was there to discipline. To be honest, I forget what I actually did, but I remember his words vividly. Probably because he was laughing.

He had tears in his eyes from laughing so hard. Totally not the typical reaction to an obvious infraction.

"One day, you'll have kids" he said, "and they will put you through so much more than you're putting me through right now."

A few decades later, those words would ring all too true.

It's Halloween night. As usual, we're hosting a small gathering. My wife has to work late so dinner, the kids and all the decorations are my responsibility. My first born is old enough to carve his first pumpkin. We draw a simple design on the gourd of his choice. To keep the markers away from the baby, I tuck the markers in my back pocket.

There's a lot to do, so for dinner, I decide to have pizza from a take 'n bake. My youngest, discouraged that he can't carve his own jacko-lantern wanders into the living room and throws a fit. My oldest is progressing nicely with his carving and then we hear a loud crash.

The baby had managed to pull the stereo off the shelf. I don't know how he did it but thanfully, he managed to not get hurt. While I'm putting the stereo back on the shelf, the oven timer goes off. I've got stereo parts in each hand and dinner is about to burn to a crisp. I get the stereo back on the shelf, rush to the oven, pull the pie out and cut it immediately.

That's when I realize the quiet. It's the loudest quiet I've ever heard. You have to be a parent to understand this quiet. It's an ominous quiet. Like you're in dream. Or like in movies where there's some heavy handed foreshadowing.

I walk out to the living room and there's my baby, next to my wife's favorite chair. Seems innocent enough, then it hits me like a meteor. He is drawing on my wife's favorite chair!

In the time it took me to remove a pizza from the oven and cut it, he had managed to tag every visible surface of the chair. But where'd he get a permanent marker? We're normally so careful about keeping them locked up... I reach into my back pocket and realize I had been pick pocketed by an 18 month old! It must have happened while I was putting the stereo back together.

I should be mad, but I'm not. I'm laughing the deepest, belly laugh -the kind of laugh that brings a smile across your face, warms your heart and makes you cry.

That day, dad's words rang too true not to laugh.

We still have the chair prominently displayed in our living room. And my youngest points at his contributions to the chair now and again, smiling proudly. I smile right back at him all the while knowing one day, when he has kids of his own, Karma will likely have him in histarics.