Home > Fatherhood > Archives > 2008 > May
May 2008
Avoiding the mistakes of our parents
I guess we all try to avoid doing what we think our parents did wrong.
I got a front row seat to the differences between me and my dad this past weekend as we put together the previously mentioned swing set.
For as long as I can remember, my dad and I have gotten into shouting matches over any and every disagreement. Dad once told me that yelling at me did no good because whenever he raised his voice, I would raise my voice and the duel would begin.
Make no mistake: I love my Dad, shouting and all. I just wish we didn’t yell so much.
We used to attend a church where everyone was supposed to select a “life verse.” Mine was “Fathers, provoke not your children to anger.”
So the one trait I’m trying most not to copy as I rear Sam is the fast fuse to shouting.
Dad has even commented on my “patience” when Sam is crying, saying he’d have yelled at him to be quiet pretty early on.
Several times this weekend, Sam got in the way as we were assembling the swing set. I would guide him away to something else. But twice my Dad yelled at him in frustration in that all too familiar and quick way.
It was really jarring to me because I was in no way close enough to frustration to yell, and yet Dad was yelling at Sam.
In a way, it was good to see the different reaction because it showed me I’m having success in my goal. It was also a good reminder to stay the course.
There are also many wonderful attributes of my Dad to copy in my journey of fatherhood: His love, loyalty, devotion, playful spirit and commitment of time. I just want to make sure that as I grow into being a dad, it is the good qualities my son sees.
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My advice on assemble-it-yourself playground equipment: Don’t!
I think I’ve mentioned over the last couple of months that Sam really enjoys the swings and slides at the park.
So part of the plans for Memorial Day weekend had been to put together a swing set for him. Wanting him to get as much good out of it as possible, I picked one that has a fort on one end and swings on the other. There’s a spot for a sandbox under the fort.
Last week’s illness looked like it might derail those plans, but recovery came soon enough for my Dad and me to begin the building adventure.
The box said all the holes were pre-drilled. Some were, but a lot weren’t. And those that were frequently were poorly drilled and needed to be re-drilled.
The box said you didn’t need a drill. But obviously you did; luckily I have one.
The instructions might as well have been in Chinese, because the English didn’t make a lot of sense. The pictures were also not particularly clear. Several times I discovered two steps later that we had put a board on upside down, so the pre-drilled holes weren’t aligned correctly. Back to the drill…
The instructions said it would take two men eight to ten hours to assemble the whole thing. After eight hours, Dad and I had completed exactly three of the 15 steps in the booklet.
We didn’t have all the correct screws we needed and one of the boards was thinner than it was supposed to be. We had to make several adjustments and at least one trip to the hardware store.
Seventeen hours later, it was finished and Sam was swinging away with a smile on his face. He had tried to help us put it together, which amounted to him banging on boards with his plastic tools and trying to grab real screw drivers out of the tool box. Sam is a real “Bob the Builder” at heart.
So, I’m glad we did it because he’s enjoying it a lot. But I NEVER want to do it again. In fact, my dad said if anyone asked if we’d like to build one for them to let them know they can’t afford us.
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The Wade guys take in a gal
The Wade house has been a bastion of men: me, Sam and Ernie the cat.
That is until Saturday.
Actually, it started a couple of weeks ago when Sam discovered that stray kitten next door. The kitten migrated more and more toward our porch over the last couple of weeks.
Then Friday, when my parents arrived to take care of me in my unfortunate illness, Dad fed the kitten. This was something I hadn’t done, to keep from officially claiming it as ours. With that feeding, Socks officially became our kitten. After a bath, the kitten came into the house permanently on Saturday night.
And, as it turns out, Socks is a girl, so the testosterone temple that was our house has now received a little balance.
She is a sweet kitten and very tolerant of Sam playing with her. He’s been trying to pick up Ernie for months but unable because Sam is so large. No problem with Socks: She’s just the right size. She and Sam can grow up together.
Ernie is not taking this well. He likes to be an only cat. After 12 years of living with me alone, in the last 7 months he’s had to endure first the addition of Sam and now the addition of a second cat. But he’s finally stopped hissing and can stand to sit in the same room as Socks now, so I’m counting that as improvement.
I’ve tried to reassure him that he’ll always be our number one cat. I’m not sure that he believes me.
But Sam is thrilled and Socks is safe and well-fed. And thus balance is achieved in the house.
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Sleep, soup, Mom the best medicine
I have returned from my bout with illness with many lessons learned.
None of them involve knowing what I had. But I do know that I was more sick than I’ve been in 10 years.
A trip to the doctor Friday revealed it was not strep or mono, at least according to the test results. But the doc said it looked like strep and sounded like strep, so he treated me for strep.
After taking three of the antibiotic pills, my sore throat was gone and my fever abated, but I had a wonderful new symptom — a red splotchy rash. By this time it was Saturday night, and the doctor’s office long-since closed for a long weekend.
I called the after-hours emergency line and got to speak with the doctor on call: not my regular doc, but his associate. I was told that it was probably not strep at all, that it was likely a virus that looked like strep and that the antibiotic was reacting to the lack of bacteria. He recommended I stop taking the pills and only worry if the sore throat and fever came back.
Fortunately, they haven’t. By Sunday night the rash was gone. I spent the last part of the weekend building one of those assemble-it-yourself swing set kits for Sam with my Dad. There’ll be more on that experience in a blog post later this week.
In the end I just needed lots of sleep (I slept the equivalent of a a 24-hour day during daylight hours), a bowl of soup, and the care of my Mom who came to help with Sam. Sometimes the old standbys really are the best medicine.
I’ve also learned that several people in my church are very willing to help me take care of Sam in times of need. Sunday many asked why I hadn’t called them for help.
So, I know who you are and I’ll keep your numbers handy for the next time.
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Thank God for friends and family
Being a single parent is not impossibly difficult, until illness strikes and you can barely take care of yourself, much less an active toddler.
After dropping Sam off at daycare yesterday, I returned home to sleep, all but about an hour and a half of the time he was there. After picking him up and trying to sit up with him for about 45 minutes, I quickly realized I wasn’t going to make it until he went to bed.
This is where the friends and family come in. I called my best friend, himself a single father whose daughter graduated from Baylor last week, and he came over, with food for Sam, to watch him until bedtime. I went back to lying down.
Thankfully when it came time to go to bed, Sam cried for all of 30 seconds and then went right to sleep. I’m pretty sure I didn’t have the strength to rock him.
My parents drove overnight from Tulsa. They were already planning to come this weekend, but moved the trip up a day when I called and asked for help. One of them will take me to the doctor today, since this is very obviously not a 24-hour bug.
It’s good to have people to call on when you need help. It’s people who have people that are actually the luckiest people in the world.
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Taking care of Dad
WORST FATHER'S DAY GIFTS EVER
I had to leave work early yesterday with a sore throat and a fever that was making me light-headed and nauseous. I went straight to the couch and slept for 5 hours before going to pick up Sam at daycare.
I still have the sore throat and fever today, so it looks like I’ll be staying home again.
Sam has been right next to me the whole time trying to watch out over me. I think he realizes I’m not at the top of my game, so he’s not really letting me out of his sight.
Hopefully he won’t catch whatever I have due to his proximity. I’d hate to think his tender heart would make him sick.
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Let me carry that for you
WORST FATHER'S DAY GIFTS EVER
Yesterday, a friend surprised me with a “just because” gift. Knowing that I’m working on a project on outdoor lawn games right now, she bought a 5-in-1 set of games for Sam and me to enjoy when he gets a little older. The set includes badminton, volleyball, horseshoes, a frisbee game and lawn tennis.
The set came in a purple and neon green canvas case that is somewhere between a guitar case and a violin case in size.
When I got home with Sam yesterday afternoon, I pulled it out of the front seat after I got him out of his car seat in the back. He was immediately intrigued. I think it was the colors.
He insisted that he be the one to carry it inside. So my little guy began trying to climb the back steps carrying a case probably bigger than he is. He refused all my help.
He got up the 7 back steps and got stuck at the back door. He didn’t understand he needed to turn the case in order to fit through the space.
He made it as far as the kitchen before he wore out and demanded juice. I carried it the rest of the way to the closet.
Also making it’s way inside was a bag from my lunch hour, when I went to buy baby wipes and diaper cream. When Sam gave up on the game case, he picked up the shopping bag and tried to carry it through the house. It was a little more his size, but barely.
He’s also expressed interest lately in carrying his own diaper bag, which is way to big for him to handle.
I guess it’s all good practice for the day when he offers to carry some cute girl’s books to school, if anyone still does that.
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Don’t let the bedbugs bite
WORST FATHER'S DAY GIFTS EVER
File this post under the “Nathan needs help” tab. I’ll accept any reasonable advice.
For a couple of weeks I’ve been itching a lot. It’s worse at night, but some follows me through the day.
I began to think it was work-related, because I was experiencing some added stress. But now that that problem is working toward resolution, I’ve moved away from the stress angle.
Next, I thought it might be my fabric softener. I had bought a different brand a few weeks ago because my grocer was out of my regular brand. Sunday I rewashed every piece of clothing I’ve recently worn with a new bottle of my regular fabric softener. It helped some, particularly during the day, but nighttime is still miserable.
Then I began noticing Sam is scratching a lot too. Now, I haven’t rewashed his clothes yet (on my list for tonight), but this got me wondering if there is a deeper problem. His scratching is also worse at night.
I have stripped all the sheets, washed them in hot water, and vacuumed the mattress (twice). This was a couple of weeks ago, with no improvement.
I’m at a loss for what to try next. Nothing in our diet is different, and other than the fabric softener, we aren’t using any new products. There is no visible rash or skin discoloration on the itchy areas for either of us, although Sam does have some diaper rash that I’m treating with A&D ointment and is improving. That’s not his scratching site, though.
If anyone has a thought, please help!
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Why are you on my head?
My little mountain climber has found a new perch.
Squarely on my head.
He spent several hours this weekend climbing on the back of the couch and then laying, sitting, or attempting to stand on my head. Sometimes he pulled at my hair. Other times he played peek-a-boo going from one side of my face to the other, laughing all the while.
This morning, he just sat up there to drink his milk.
I’m not sure why this is suddenly so appealing and so funny. Even when he’s asleep he wants to find my head to lay on top of.
Usually,he has just tried to wedge his body between mine and the arm of the couch or the kitchen cabinets or the stove, whatever I’m near. He does it so often, his nickname is about to be “Wedge.” Hey, it’s a Star Wars name, so I’m sure he’ll approve.
I’ll be happy to go back to my little “wedge” instead of my little “mountain goat herder.” But either way, he’s still cute.
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Front porch stories
I seem to recall a book I read in elementary school called “Front Porch Tales” or something like that. It was very family-oriented.
So, in the spirit of literacy, I’ll share with you two such stories that happened yesterday.
When we got home yesterday afternoon, Sam got his customary sippy cup of juice. While I went out to get the mail, Sam came out on the front porch and went over to a park bench I have near the railing. He climbed up on the bench to drink his juice, then directed me to sit next to him by patting the seat with his left hand. So we sat next to each other, his head resting on my side, watching cars go by as Sam drank juice. It was the kind of family-bonding moment I had always hoped for during that long adoption paperwork ordeal.
When we went back inside, I left the front door open with just the screen door closed. After supper, I heard the familiar mewing of that new neighbor kitten on our porch. Sam heard it too and wanted to go play with it. So he went out to the railing and played with the kitten as it darted between posts, climbed in his lap, jumped for his hand and other fun games. I’ve posted some pictures below so you can get the full effect.
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Sam and cat food
HOW I'M LIKE MY FATHER
Following up on yesterday’s story of Sam with the kitten, here are some fun thoughts I’ve been compiling in my mind for a couple of weeks.
Sam is fascinated by cat food. At the recommendation of a veterinarian years ago, I only feed Ernie dry cat food. I store it in an old carton that scoopable cat litter came in originally (yes, I washed it first) because it has an air-tight, screw-on lid.
Of course, the dry food rattles in the container and makes a really fun sound. Many times Sam has used it as the noise maker in his personal parade around the house.
In addition, Sam really likes to pretend he’s feeding Ernie by getting the container out of the utility room, carrying it over to Ernie’s bowl in the kitchen and pouring it into the dish. Of course, the lid is still screwed on so nothing comes out. Sam then carries the container back to the utility room and tosses it back in its corner, much like I do when I feed Ernie. Then, in typical Sam style, he applauds for himself.
Recently, though, Sam has also become interested in literally feeding Ernie. When I load or unload the dishwasher, Sam pulls out a spoon and tries to spoon-feed Ernie with it. He does a really good job of scooping cat food out of the bowl and keeping it on the spoon. Ernie has yet to express real interest though.
And yes, I rewash those spoons.
Sam also has tried to give Ernie breakfast in bed a time or two. When he finds Ernie sleeping, he carries the food bowl to Ernie. I always expect to find a trail of cat food leading to the bowl, but he’s doing a really good job of not spilling it.
And I figure, as long as he’s not eating it himself, there’s not a lot of harm in this entertainment.
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Sam and the kitten
HOW I'M LIKE MY FATHER
The neighbors have a new kitten. Or at least, there’s a new kitten hanging around the neighbors’ back steps. It has a very loud mew and plays mock-guerrilla warfare with us. It makes little sorties from under the neighbors’ back steps, then retreats as we approach.
The kitten is a brown/back spiral of color, with white feet. I’m referring to it privately as “Socks” because it looks like that’s what he/she is wearing.
Sam is totally intrigued by this kitten. He wants desperately to play with it, and has managed to get far closer to it than I have. In fact, yesterday when we came home from work/daycare, Sam even managed to pet Socks for a while. I had to carry Sam inside because he didn’t want to leave his new friend.
Once inside, we washed our hands and then played with our own cat.
A side note for the germophobes among my readers: I may have conquered the toilet hand-washing pattern. I’ve set a small stool in front of the sink and introduced Sam to sink washing and liquid soap. Now he wants to wash his hands — the right way — anytime he’s near the bathroom.
But I am afraid Sam is going to want to bring the new kitten inside. It may well be a stray, but I have all I can handle with one cat and one boy.
I think the attraction of the kitten is that it’s smaller, more easily held by Sam, and far more playful and toddler-like than our aging cat. Still, it warms my heart to see Sam being so tender with the little animal. He was very patient in getting the kitten to come to him and very affectionate once it did.
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Tears and laughter
HOW I'M LIKE MY FATHER
The tears were last night. The laughter came this morning.
As previously reported, Sam is beginning to get his secondary molars. There are lumps on his bottom gums on both sides of his mouth, and he has been chewing on his fingers almost nonstop. I’ve been giving him his teething ring out of the freezer, but he seems to prefer the fingers.
Yesterday, I wasn’t sure if he’d make the whole day at daycare, as he was very whiny and wimpery all morning. I took his teething tablets and Tylenol for the staff to give him if he had more trouble. They made me fill out forms (separate ones for each medicine) so they could give them to him, and I had to list a specific reason for the medicine. Apparently the words “teething tablets” do not imply a specific reason.
I realize this is for their insurance and Sam’s protection, but it was pretty funny when she handed the form back to me and asked for a specific reason.
He did fine all day and didn’t need any tablets, but then began crying almost as soon as we got home. I couldn’t help him stop. I tried the Tylenol, the teething tablets, the teething ring, rocking him, holding him, giving him juice. Nothing worked.
Needless to say, we skipped my bowling league, because that would have been a parenting nightmare.
Then this morning, after sleeping decently well all night, he acted like nothing had ever been wrong. He only cried when I was getting him dressed, but he always does that. I didn’t even take the teething tablets with him today. He was laughing and playing all morning.
About the time I get this all figured out, he’ll have all his teeth. Murphy’s Law of Teething #1.
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Hi Dad! THUD!
Yesterday after the worship service at my church had concluded, I went back to the nursery to pick up Sam.
This week, I was the first parent to reach the nursery. The nursery door was locked.
This is probably a good plan, since the nursery is the first interior door you pass after entering the main door of the building. With usually only women and babies in the room, an intruder could force himself into the room and do something despicable, if not for the locked door. At least the lock would slow him down long enough for the workers to use the phone to call for help.
So, I arrived at the nursery door, tried the knob, discovered it was locked, and knocked. There is a small window in the door, through which my face showed to those inside.
Sam was the first person to notice me at the door. And he came running, with a big smile on his face.
Next I heard a loud THUD as Sam ran into the door. But he didn’t cry. He just waited until an adult unlocked the door to let him out.
The sight of him running to me and the sound of him hitting the door was a funny turn of events I will not soon forget.
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Happy Mother’s Day from the Fatherhood dad
HOW I'M LIKE MY FATHER
As Sunday is the day we honor Mothers, I want to pass along my wish that all of you moms will have a very happy and blessed day.
This year is the first that my mom has actually been a grandmother. Last year at this time, we were claiming Sam as our own, but the legal hassle in Guatemala was reaching a fever pitch and it was really in doubt as to whether he would ever actually be my son. We passed through Mother’s Day and Father’s Day without actually acknowledging what might be our changing roles.
So this year for the first time I got to pick out a “Happy Mother’s Day, Grandma” card for Sam to send to my mom (along with my usual card). It was kind of fun to get to look at the little kid cards in the Mother’s Day aisle again.
After selecting the card I was sure reflected the sentiments of Sam (even though his favorite words at this point are uh-oh, oops, juice, sock and hey: Try to make a Mother’s Day thought out of that!), I took it home for Sam to make his mark on it. I gave him a crayon, and he drew several reasonably straight lines on the inside flap. I’m sure this is his way of saying, “Thanks for always giving me grapes, bananas and lots of hugs, Grandma!”
I stuck both cards inside one envelope and mailed them Monday (with two stamps). Hopefully Mom has received this by now. Otherwise, “Surprise Mom! Look for cards in the mail!”
Again, Happy Mother’s Day to all!
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The full nelson of love
HOW I'M LIKE MY FATHER
Previously, I’ve reported how Sam likes to wrestle with me on the couch. He smiles and laughs and has a great time.
He also does the same thing with Ernie the cat. It’s a little less aggressive. Mostly he just wants to hold Ernie down and lay his head on him. Then he pats Ernie’s head and applauds. It’s a sign of love and is really pretty cute, to everyone but the cat, I’m sure.
Yesterday, I arrived to pick up Sam at daycare as Sam was holding down another kid. Sam is now the oldest in his room but not the biggest. In fact this kid (we’ll call him Joe, but I’m sure his real name is something modern and cool like Landon or Connor or Montana) is bigger than Sam. Joe was crying for help, all the while Sam was patting Joe’s head.
The teachers were completely unconcerned. One even remarked that Sam had Joe “down for the count.” The other teacher laughed.
This tells me that Sam is doing this regularly. Apparently no one gets hurt. He’s just sharing his “full nelson of love” with the rest of the class.
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This post brought to you by the Idaho Potato Council
OK, today’s post is not really sponsored by the potato council. I just needed a headline.
Yesterday, a colleague commented that her son, who is about a year older than Sam, had lost his favorite teddy bear during a particularly turbulent time for their family. She went to buy him a new one during her lunch hour yesterday.
Apparently, this bear was her son’s “lovey,” much like Linus’ blanket in the classic Peanuts comic strip.
This got me thinking that Sam really doesn’t have such an item, at least not one that’s stuffed.
Instead, my son carries around vegetables (hence the headline to this post).
Now, he’s not carrying around actual vegetables. Instead, he has attached himself to Artoo Potatoo, a Star Wars Mr. Potato Head figure.
A couple of weeks ago, commenters mentioned the existence of Star Wars Potato Heads. I went shopping and couldn’t find them, then ordered a bundle of three online. Sam avoids Darth Tater entirely (good taste, son). He plays with the Spud Trooper a little bit. But he really likes Artoo Potatoo.
Partly I think that’s because it’s smaller and easier for his hands to hold than the other two.
But he really doesn’t play with it the way you’re supposed to. Instead he strips off all its attachments, getting it down to the naked potato, and then runs around the house beating things with it.
It’s about the size of a regular baking potato, and it really looks like he’s running around the house with a real vegetable. He even whines when I put the Artoo attachments back on it so we won’t loose them. He just wants the potato.
And lately it’s the first thing he pulls out of the toy box in the morning, the first thing when we get home in the afternoon, and the last thing he’s playing with at night.
Maybe my son is destined to be a chef. But if one day in the distant future criminal activity is accompanied with a calling card of a raw potato left at the site, forget you ever read this blog.
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Here we go again — Teething fun
The brief respite was good. Enjoyable. Relatively calm.
And now the next round is set to begin.
First I noticed the drool and the runny nose. Then I noticed Sam chewing on his fingers, but this time from the back corners of his mouth.
A quick check with my finger revealed a small ridge forming on one side at the back of the gum line and a small pinpoint of toothiness on the other.
The secondary molars are coming! The secondary molars are coming!
Lock your doors and hide your daughters. Let the crying and fussiness begin again.
My mother told me she cried every time I got ready for another tooth. I thought that was funny. But after going through 10 or so of these already, I know she wasn’t joking. Sam has a terrible time getting those teeth through, and his emotions run a wide gamut as he copes with the pain.
This explains why he’s wanting me to hold him more in the last few days, and why he’s been crying again when I get up to cook supper or when I leave him at daycare. He just needs a little extra TLC during these trying teething times.
Fortunately, these are the last four until permanent teeth. Unfortunately, it may take a couple of months to complete the process.
Just when I was getting used to sleeping through the night.
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Avoiding the commode
Here’s a new problem to discuss: Sam has begun washing his hands…in the toilet.
On the one hand, I’m glad he’s washing his hands. On the other, I’m concerned that he’s using the toilet to do it.
So far, I’ve managed to catch him every time and wash off his hands for real afterwards. But I’m sure my luck is going to run out.
I can see why he’s doing it this way. The bowl is on his level, while the sinks are all way higher than he can reach. So he reaches in, wets his hands, rubs them together really good and then leaves the bathroom.
I’m not sure how to stop this behavior. It’s not as simple as keeping the lid closed. Ernie, the cat, gets all his drinking water from the commode and will not drink from a regular water bowl. So, I’ve got to keep the water available for him.
Also, I don’t want to discourage the hand washing while directing the hands to a cleaner source.
Anyone got an idea for the struggling dad?
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So you think you can dance?
If you think you’re a great dancer, you have never seen my son, who at 20 months can do spins around you.
Where he’s picked this up is anybody’s guess.
Last night we were listening to CDs while doing our regular wrestling routine on the couch. Apparently, Sam really likes the music of Kimberly locke, who finished third in season 2 of “American Idol.” We were listening to her second CD, released late last year, and Sam decided to show me all his break dancing moves.
I kid you not. He stood on his head and spun around. He swung his arms around like people who do that wave motion move. He did baby circles. He even tried to do “The Robot.”
All the while he was clapping off and on in a pretty good approximation of the actual beat of the music. I was pretty impressed.
Then he applauded at the end of each song.
He certainly didn’t learn this from me. I didn’t even go to my high school prom, much less dance for fun. Nor do we watch music videos or break dancing shows.
Nevertheless, he’s got it down. I sense reality television in our future.
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Always Coca-Cola
My son has a real thing for Coke cans.
Now, mind you, he’s never actually had any to drink. He just thinks he has.
It works like this. Sam finds the box (the kind that is refrigerator-sized) and pulls out a can. Obviously, it is still sealed. Then he runs around the house holding it, throwing it, beating the floor with it and anything else he can think of. Whatever he’s doing, he adds a Coke and a smile to it.
Periodically, he will stop and tilt his head and the can back, as if he’s drinking. When he straightens his head beck down, he says “AHHHH!”
Refreshing!
Yes, Coke adds life to our house.
Fortunately, the cans have yet to explode under all this abuse. I’m not sure I want to bathe the stickiness of an exploded Coke can off of my son, after cleaning the floors, table, his toys, and whatever else it might cover.
Interestingly, Sam only does this with Coca-Cola cans. We have other soda cans in the house and refrigerator as well, but as far as Sam is concerned, Coke is it.
I can only imagine what will happen when one day he actually drinks the stuff. Assuming he likes it, I may never get him to put the can down.
