She Walks! She Runs!

And it took only 13 months and 3 days. My daughter has been cruising the furniture and walls for a few months now. She’ll even throw in a few steps on her own once in awhile and when we “oh and awed” (like Smurfs) she’ll immediately end the floorshow.
But today my wife and I were determined to make her walk on her own. We both sat on the floor facing each other and started moving further away making her run between us. Eventually we would stand up and back away then she would just start chasing us (while giggling like Elmo.)

Watching her walk on her own really made my mind wander (insert a cartoon thought cloud bubble over my head). She’s no longer a baby and officially a toddler, and how time is truly flying by. How something as simple as walking can lead to playing soccer, hide & seek with daddy, 19-mile marathons and in the far off future walking down the aisle getting married. I kept thinking to myself “Wow, I’m going to remember this day for the rest of my life”, even down to the poop stench coming out of her butt that I had hoped my wife noticed first so I didn’t have to change her diaper.
It was enough to get me a little veclemped, just thinking my little girl is growing up right before my eyes.

Traveling With New Rules

I’m not going to get into this whole thing with those arrested UK terrorists (I’m just glad something happened to prevent anything). And this isn’t going to prevent us from our upcoming Disney World trip this Christmas. What troubles me most is the after effects of new rules that could affect carry-on baggage while traveling. You know, no liquids, gels, electronics, etc.

I can’t imagine an even more boring trip without the iPod, Nintendo DS, or Laptop watching my own movies. The last time I flew, the plane was showing movies like “Dreamer: The Horse Who Should Have Been Put Down” and “The Notebook”. I don’t want to watch that stuff! And the music on the airline stations was either classical (which I don’t mind when I’m working), country (sorry, I don’t like hee-haw) or some weird mix of 80’s soft-rock (Michael Bolton, Kenny G, and Amy Grant type-stuff) – Definitely not my cup of tea.

So when anybody asks me if I’m ‘discouraged from flying’, I’m answering “Yes!” but not because I don’t think it’s safe, it’s because I can’t imagine not taking my own entertainment, food & snacks, and Fiji water on the plane.

“I Don’t Ever Want My Kid To Be On T.V. Or In Movies”

Only in L.A. can you say this, get dragged into the street, and then stoned like you’re some leper. At work, some meeting got off-track (as they usually do) and the natives started talking about how ‘wouldn’t it be cool’ if their kids were “actors” or “actresses” on T.V. and in the movies. There are a few parents here who have agents for their kids who do little odd jobs like “kid #8 on skateboard”, nothing famous by any means. When my turn came I said how I would never let my kid get into any of that. I got scowls and looks with lasers shooting out of them.

Why? Well, while in college my roommate and I use to work as pages on T.V. shows (long story on how that happened) we worked on a huge variety of T.V. shows for over a year and let me tell you, those actor kids aren’t normal and their pimpin’ parents are freaks who will do anything to get their “talented kid” famous. Which leads to a lot of screwed-up kids who grow up into screwed-up adults. I don’t care what kind of impression you might have of these famous kids; in front of the camera they may act happy, easygoing, and “normal” but behind them are lots of publicists and at least one harsh stage parent. That’s the reality for about 95% of the kids I came across (the adults are even worse!). They’re crazy, spoiled, usually experimenting with something, and are catered to like divas and kings. The stage parents I came across overlooked all this (because their kid is going to be famous!!) and the producers want the parents to bend over backwards for them.
I read recently how that Dakota Fanning is doing some movie were she get molested in it (and they show it!) How freakin’ sick is that? I bet behind the scenes there’s some pushy agent and willing parent who want her to go for the Oscar no matter how low they have to go.

So yeah, I don’t want my kid in that world. And parents that do don’t realize what kind of world is on the other side. I won’t say which shows I worked on (this isn’t that Parez Hilton blog).

(Silence filled the conference room)

Look at what happened to all the Diff’Rent Strokes kids! The only one who wasn't on crack was Edna Garrett

“Ahhh” nods of agreement.

That Ugly Plastic Horse Needs To Find Another Home!

I did something that could be bad. I’m not sure. I made my wife (well convinced) her to return the ugly Radio Flyer Pony her sisters gave us for our daughters birthday a few weeks ago (if her sisters are reading this…’we love it! and our daughter, like Depeche Mode, 'just can’t get enough’) The horse has been sitting in the corner for few weeks now (this is the horse that took me hours and hours to assemble…its diet consists of human blood).
I didn’t like the thing from day one. It’s ugly. It’s plastic, and oh, our daughter only rode it twice and wanted nothing to do with it ever again. So my wife finally gave in, disassembled it (like in 10 minutes? I still don’t understand how…) and took it back. I cheered! Victory!

Later, that night I felt guilty and had a dream. The ghost of Christmas past visited me (he looked like Webster) and I remembered one Christmas when I was a kid (all roads lead to some horrible childhood memory) when I wanted some cheesy racetrack that made the cars crawl up the wall. I played with it for like a week and then got bored. A few days later when I went to play with it something happened. It ‘mysteriously disappeared’. I later found out my Dad took it back to Toys R Us. I dreamt my Dad at the counter and when he looked up....it was Gary Coleman with a knife! No, it was me.

I woke up in a cold sweat!!

Two things: I have to do something about this guilt. Get rid of it somehow (beer, chocolate, T.V.). I'll show that plastic horse it can't haunt me!
Second, I'm not sure why Webster and Gary Coleman always invade my dreams about morality and guilt.

Just When I Thought It Couldn’t Get Any More Gross

My daughter got sick again, a cold. We were on a pretty good streak for about 5-6 months. No colds, fever, etc. Just some cries when the teeth came in and that’s about it. But last night it all caught up with her (and us).
She was cruising along the kitchen cabinets, as usual, trying to open the baby-locked doors and then she became very quiet. She just stood at the base of the doors with her back towards us for like a minute, then 2, then 3 no reaction even when we called her. Very still and didn’t say a word. (“Why is she quiet? Is she chewing on something? Is she eating a bug, old fossilized French fry, choking on a magnetic letter…?). When I went to investigate this unusual silence, this is what I saw (where’s the camera when you need it):

Her hand near her nose and a bunch of snot (like an explosion!) all over her face and hair – all gooey with air bubbles– and she’s playing with it like clay, feeling the texture between her hands, springing it between her fingers, wall, face (mouth). Some stuck in her eyebrows. Then I started feeling a little queasy...

Back in the good “ol’ days” when she was sick this stuff just dripped off her nose and straight into her mouth, she really wasn’t coordinated enough to “play” with the snot. No coordination like now. Who knew that she would play with it (I didn’t get an owner’s manual)? But then again, really thinking about it, this is probably some new magical fluid that just showed up (a gift from heaven?!)

After I screamed, I ran around the kitchen searching for tissue, paper towels, Haz Mat suit to wipe her… then 409 to clean the walls (yes, I’m such a “new parent”, as those with 2, 3, 12 kids are probably thinking right now.) Every time I walk into the area, I still feel the presence of contamination (as if radiation mutated snot lives there waiting for me to fall asleep...)

Movie Date Night And A Potty

Friday night the wife and I got a sitter and finally saw a movie... in a theater! Not on Netflix, or cable, but a "real" movie theater. How soon we forgot the $10 "value popcorn meal deal", the $4 small bottle of water, the 30 minutes of TV commercials before the movie. After the initial excitement I was beginning to wondered what really was the big deal. Yes, I remember now - it's the "idea" of going somewhere without the kid that makes it seem exciting for a few hours (like you're out past parent curfew).

The most entertaining part (after Pirates 2, by the way...I liked the 1st movie a little more) of the night had to be my trip to the restroom, when I went in to do my 'thang', it was empty and quiet, but then I heard some talking coming from the handicap stall. A Dad and his toddler daughter inside--

Dad: Are you finished honey?
Girl: Uhh, I think so. Nooo! Wait (growls). O.K. Noooo!! Uhh...
Dad: Honey, you need to eat more fruits and vegatables..
Girl: Popcorn is a vegatable!
Dad: Honey, peaches and apples...are you done yet?
Girl: I think so...wait!
Dad: O.K. Stop talking and concentrate

(seconds)

Girl: This girl at school told me that there's this funny part in the movie where the dog....
Dad: Are you done?
Girl: Uhh, I think so. Nooo! Wait (growls). O.K. Noooo!! Uhh...

That's going to be me in no time. Note to self, carry prunes and a magazine or good book.

Everyday Phrases I Now Use, That I Never Would Have Used, Before Becoming A Parent:

Is she constipated?

I think I see Poop, or liquid, coming out of her skirt/pants/shorts

Smell her butt. I smelled it and I think it has crap in it.

Look in her nose; I think it's stuck way up in there.

Are you sure it should be that color?

Take a look; it has mustard seeds in it?

I don't remember feeding her this.

Guess where I found this shiny penny!

Was that a fart or a burp?

Stop calling that strange man "Dada".

How did that defy gravity?

What's she chewing on?

Put your finger in there and pull it out.

Is that a rash?

On a scale of 1 to 10, this one is a 30.

Check her butt.

I have Poo on my hands again.

Are you sure a thermometer goes there?

I forgot to put Butt Paste on this time.

“Cute”, “Adorable”, “Sweet”

The Dentist Wants To Hurt Me. A Lot.

I fully admit it. I’m a big baby when it comes to pain. Shots: I need to bite on those Popsicle sticks (or a bullet) and look away. Give Blood: Not intentionally, only when I fall or pierce and then pass out. Papercuts: I scream like a schoolgirl who just found her boyfriend making out with her best friend behind the locker room.

I have good reason for this behavior…! When I was 12 I was in the hospital for appendicitis and the young nurse-in-training at the time poked my arm to get blood and inadvertently hit my bone. It hurt. A lot! (In fact, It hurts me now just thinking about it). My entire body never forgot that shivering internal feeling. And to a 12- year old boy I don’t care how hot that nurse was. She was the devil. All her flirting and sneaking me ice cream didn’t help either. O.K. at the time, maybe just a little.

So imagine my reaction when I got a toothache last week and didn’t tell anybody (well, my wife) about it until it got really bad. I only go to the dentist for nothing more than a cleaning. I’ve been pretty good about cavities since I was in Jr. High (haven’t really had any since then)…. but for this I had to grudgingly see the dentist. She told me I needed something called “crown” (...huh? like prince Charles or the Burger King, King?). When I didn’t understand what that meant she literally drew me a picture on a post-it (ahh, now that’s speaking my language!) of a tooth, being shaved down, being drilled and then being capped. When I realized what they were going to do, I told them “Look! Mel Gibson is waiting in the lobby”, and then I ran away. (I’m writing this from a cave in Guam.)

Lunch At “The Sizzler”

Over the weekend we met my Grandparents for lunch at a Sizzler way out in Ontario (Outside L.A…. in California, not Canada). They LOVE Sizzler, even more than bingo (yeah, that’s big). Let me give some back-story on my Sizzler awareness – I haven't been to one since maybe 1991; didn’t know they were still around. Where we live, there aren’t any around. I thought they had gone the way of the DeLorean or Baywatch (People use to talk about it, now they don’t).
Growing up in the late 70’s/80’s my parents use to take my brother and I there on the weekends often (with a coupon, of course) to get their Las Vegas style buffet (precursor to Hometown Buffet I guess). My parents had (still have?) an obsession with Buffets (and they have really big bellies to show it)…I, on the other hand don’t (and thank God, not the belly). Buffet food scares me a little. As a kid, I did love Sizzler’s all-you-can-eat deep fried shrimp though; I remember one time, I really wanted my birthday dinner there when I was like 9 or 10. These days I only like deep-fried Oreos (I’m kidding).
But something was strange about this particular Sizzler in Ontario; the place hasn’t been updated since the 70’s or maybe even cleaned since 1981. When we sat down, I put my arm up on the table, and when I picked it back up it was stuck to the sticky tabletop. I had to use some effort and when my arm finally lifted, it sounded like peeling a fruit-roll up. When we moved to another table, same thing...but this time my pants stuck to the chair.

Imagine my reaction to the buffet. If you were to throw a chicken nugget at the window, it would shatter. People could die.

But hey! Seniors love it. They can get a whole lot of food and funny-tasting soft serve ice cream for $4 (for us 'youngsters' the same meal cost 3 times that.) The only thing cheaper would be hanging out at Costco, running around getting free food samples. Next time we meet them, I'm requesting Costco or Bingo.

Wanted: Professional Potty Consultant

Help! Does it exist? If not, somebody please invent this job? I want to just hire somebody to come into my house for a day or two and get my daughter to use the "le' toilet". Is that too much to ask? I would pay good money for service like that and I'm sure there are millions of other parents like me too who want to flip the bird to Huggies/Pampers world headquarters in Butte, Montana (Actually, I don't know where they really are, but Butte, Montana would seem fitting).
My daughter has this "thing" with kicking, screaming, and turning around while changing her diaper. Poop smears; I get it on my hands, the Banana Republic shirt (just wrong!)...the other day one hard poop marble jumped (escaped the diaper), then rolled away across the floor...It's crazy and I just want it to end. Now.
There has to be a 12-month old potty-trained kid somewhere in this world.