Summer Time

Two words: Pig Train.
That is all you need to know. Well... Ok, a bit more information might be helpful.
We spent the day at a "Berries, Brew and Barbecue" event at French Prairie Gardens in St. Paul, OR. Despite the 100 degree day and my seasonal allergies making my nose leak like a sieve, it was a blast!
   From the moment we got there and purchased our fun bracelets ($5 each) it was all about the pig train. The little one couldn't get enough of this thing. I honestly couldn't guess how many times she rode the thing. And there were a few times that she and her friend were the only ones on it and the drive of the tractor didn't stop at the usual spot and hey just went around the track again. The big smile on her face was probably only matched by the one on mine.
   Then there was a fairly large slide that required burlap blankets to ride down on. I thought for sure this would be too scary but it happened so fast that I don't think my daughter had time to freak out. In fact, we did it a second time. And even came back to it a couple times later in the day.
   I've never picked strawberries before and I'll be the first to admit that they are a pain. in. the. ass. But the were also the absolute best strawberries I've ever tasted in my life. Not exaggerating.
   The duck races were also popular.
   Between the good food, fun events, strawberries and refreshing beverages there is a good time had by all who go here. My only hope is that the hundred degree temps today scared everyone off. There was hardly anyone there which made it great for us, but I hope they pick up more patrons in the next couple of weekends. 
   So if you're looking for something to do in the next weekend or so, I strongly recommend this place. 

Succeeding

Days like today make me think I'm winning. My wife is out of town on business over night and I had an awesome day with my kid. I wasn't sure how it would go. Whenever it is just one of us, bedtime can sometimes end in fountains of tears because we miss momma/daddy so much.
   To make things worse, when she doesn't nap at school during the day the level at which she is inconsolable is well past 11 on a scale of 1 to 10.
   I feel guilty for my approach to the day wondering what all will go wrong.  
   Then we go to the park after I pick her up from school and we spend a half hour running around from swing to slide to teeter totter. Look how awesome she is.  

The Rey shirt and Zita boots add a nice touch. 

   Even at this point, I was worried about the rest of the evening. All my fears were ill-founded because the rest of our evening was just as wonderful.  Dinner was followed by the regular bedtime routine. Then we read a little Captain Underpants and she went right to bed with little coaxing from me.

   As I was straightening up tonight, I realized that she had even cleaned up her loom project that she decided to work on while I made dinner. 

   As I said: winning. But of course, there will always be the opposite days. I'm just glad for days like these where she makes it easy for me to not be an ass.

   A couple more photos from recent weeks just because:

Milestones

We’re working on reading and tying shoes, now. Well… E is, anyway. And she is blowing. My. mind.

She brings home a folder with a sheet of paper and a small book from her preschool. On the sheet of paper is a series of columns showing the title of the book, the date, and parent(s) signatures showing that she has read the book. The little books about Mac, Sam, Dot, Jig the pig and Meg the dog start off pretty simple, but in a little more than a week, I am amazed at the progress the little one is making. True, these books are not going to win any Pulitzers for literature. But I don’t think I could be a prouder father seeing my daughter read and seeing the wheels turning behind her eyes thinking She GETS it!

And then she starts working on tying her shoes pretty much the same week. She always makes a big deal about helping me with my shoes each morning and going through the motions of tying them. The last shoes that we got for her with laces didn’t last long. (because of how fast she’s growing) I think it also must have gotten frustrating for her.

But the other day, the wife was working all day Saturday so it was a father/daughter day spent mostly running errands. But in an attempt to make it more interesting for her, I asked if she wanted to get tie shoes. She seemed into it so we went to Freddies and found ourselves staring at the long row of shoes. Of course she navigated to the bright pink one with stars and lights. Then in an attempt to cast of the shackles of gender programming, I explained how the store ‘thinks’ girls should wear these shoes that are all pink and boys should wear these shoes which is why they are all separate. But that she could choose whichever shoes she wanted. She may have been trying to please me (or we just selected the first pair that we could find in her size) but she ended up with some awesome converse in the navy blue shade. I may have been projecting this choice on her a little bit.  But she seemed excited regardless.

Not having any other kids to compare her to, tying shoes and learning to read seem like pretty major milestones. And it seems like she’s hurdling these milestones at a young age. (she only just turned 4 in January) But then as her parents, we are going to think she’s a prodigy no matter what she does. I think she may have handed me her booger today but she did it in a brilliant way.

It’s times like these that make me think I’m making the right choices as a parent. But I’m sure that won’t last long and I’ll start pulling out the rest of my hair for having yelled at her for some stupid reason like not washing her hands immediately after going potty or leaving her coat on the floor.

Whatever.  Enjoy these.

 And here we are getting a smoothie to help get us through the rest of our errands.

Disneyland

It has been well over 20 years since I’ve been to Disneyland. So it didn’t take much convincing when my wife brought up the idea of a Disneyland trip with very short notice. 

We picked not only the perfect time of year to go (first week of February) but also the best time of week to go. (Wednesday through Friday) We never waited more than 20 minutes or so in any line with a couple of exceptions: Star Tours, Peter Pan and Casey Junior (#$@#) Railroad. Don't get me wrong, I love Dumbo.  It’s got a great story, great music and some very touching moments. But this ride should be avoided at all costs unless there is absolutely NO line.

But that one ride aside, we had pretty much the perfect 3 days. (Even if the fireworks were canceled 2 out of the 3 days we were there and the only day we did see them were from the Hotel.)  Still totally worth it!

We went to Ariel’s grotto for breakfast on the first day. It was a great way to get your 4 year-old to meet 5 Disney princesses in less than an hour. The food was pretty good, too. Mind you, without a 4 year-old, we totally would have had a different vacation, but I’m really glad we didn’t wait. This was a magical time to take our little one. That said, you have to go into this situation with flexible expectations. We went back to the hotel every day to take a nap. But doing so meant we got to see some seriously cool nighttime parades and displays. I can’t imagine trying to do this if the Gremlin was not well rested. And our entirely planned afternoons went up in smoke more often than not. We were totally psyched to see Marry Poppins at the end of the afternoon parade but by then, E just wanted to go on rides. Oh well.

Highlights (for me): Star Tours (our little one was the rebel spy that Darth Vader was after), getting light sabers, meeting Chewbacca at the Launch Pad, Thunder Railroad, princess breakfast, Ferris Wheel, Gadget’s Go coaster, and the electric light parade (this actually completely floored me… both times we saw it!).

Other awesomeness: Silly Symphonies swings, Little Mermaid Ride, Roger Rabbit ride, Teacups (x3)aka Mad Teaparty, Haunted Mansion, Churros, Pluto, Dumbo, Flik’s Flyers, It’s a Small World (an oldie but goodie), Minnie Mouse, Anna and Elsa. 

So much fun.  See for yourselves.

4 years old…

My daughter, not me. And I’m still alive. A few more gray hairs (when I let my hair get long enough to see them) but overall, I’d have to say that every year has been more awesome than the last.

                Here are things I’m looking forward to in 2016: reading for herself, writing more than just her name, going to the bathroom by herself (more often), Rogue 1, the Chevy Bolt (no, I’m not getting one), her final year of preschool, puzzles, Legos, ballet, video games, playing piano and the list goes on.

                Here she is at an art studio celebrating her birthday. Please note the shirt.

If she WANTS to become president, I would fully support that.  But I would also be fine if she wanted to become a professional pan flute player… mostly fine. It is exciting to think what will interest her in the coming years and what she’ll be doing 20 years from now.

                For the time being, it’s a pleasure watching her navigate the ins and outs of licking an egg beater. (See what I did there?  Ins and outs… cause… you know.  An egg beater has spaces and holes and stuff.  Funny, right?)

Worst. App. Ever.

There’s this app for your phone called “Parents Calling Santa” which, when activated, will have Santa call your child with one of 3 stock responses. The parent chooses depending on how their child is ‘behaving’ at a given time.

This is a horrible idea on so many levels and I can’t begin to express my disbelief and disappointment that A) this even exists and B) it’s among the top 5 paid lifestyle apps in 13 different countries. (according to their website)

This is a bad app because it scares children into behaving more ‘appropriately’ or else they won’t get Christmas gifts. Instead of helping them to do the right thing because it’s the right thing to do, kids are basically getting bribed to do the right thing with loot. What’s more, strong-arming your kid into behaving during the days leading up to Christmas is pretty much the same thing as giving them a pass for bad behavior the rest of the year. Unless, that is, you plan to have Santa call your kid in the middle of July. And I would bet that this would only work so many times before the child ended up either desensitized to the Santa calls or figures out the gimmick.

Oh, and one more reason why this is just plain stupid; how about parents actually put forth the effort to raise their kids themselves? Is that asking too much? Instead of paying a couple of bucks to have “Santa” ridicule your kid, how about trying to connect with your kid. Engage and reason with them.  Affirm and recognize their emotions and discuss possible outcomes of their actions along with alternatives.

Raising kids is hard. And I know parents are looking for help wherever they can get it. But easier is not better. A $2 app from Apple may seem like an easy way to buy good behavior from your kid. But I don’t think it’s going to help your kid in the long run.

But what do I know? My daughter is only almost 4. Check back with me in 20 years. But I suspect that I will say something similar.

The feels. We has them.

We’ve been having some major feelings lately about going to work/school to do our jobs. My daughter is going through a period right now where being separated from us is the worst thing in the world. This may change in a week or a month, but right now it presents a challenge anytime we need to get anywhere by a specific time.

And when one of us is working late or (heaven forbid) gone overnight, it leaves the other to deal with the fallout. That said we are doing well. We’re giving our DD the space she needs to have these feelings, have them acknowledged by us and working through them. Luckily, we can afford the time to give this opportunity to our daughter, unlike the guy who parked behind me at school. As I was climbing into my ‘smug’ producing Prius, I overheard him snap at his daughter saying “Quit screwing around!” Or as my wife would translate: Stop having emotions! They’re conflicting with my schedule! This is what Napoleon Dynamite would sound like if he had a kid. Only he’d be yelling at his kid for screwing around with his nun-chucks.

I’m awfully glad that I don’t need to be anywhere so desperately that I would respond to my kid in this way, especially as they’re just learning to experience these strong emotions.

There were a lot of snotty tears this morning. But this is how I left her at school.

And maybe looking forward to playing with my old Starwars toys was incentive enough to get us both through this day. 

Nice try, Barbie

Barbie has always been controversial. The “Math class is tough” debacle highlighted my formative years.  Upon further investigation, I have discovered the many ways in which Barbie has erred through the decades. See the top of the list HERE.

But then Mattel recently released a video like THIS showing girls they can be anything they imagine. My first reaction to this was awesome! Mattel finally got something right with Barbie.  On Barbie’s Instagram page there are images of Astronaut Barbie, Surgeon Barbie and Firefighter Barbie dating back as far as 1965. So while it’s easy to get caught up in all of the mistakes that Mattel has made over the years, one cannot acknowledge those mistakes without also admitting the successes. (even if her proportions continue to be grossly inaccurate)

As an alternative, there is Lammily. This realistically proportioned doll just appeared in the last year or so and I think it’s a great concept. My wife immediately purchased one for our daughter. It’s now sitting at the bottom of a box and has received very little play time.  Most everything she owns is at the bottom of a box somewhere in lieu of an empty box that has been well played with sitting in the middle of the living room.

My almost 4 year-old hasn’t yet asked for a Barbie. This makes me pretty happy because it’s one more thing I don’t yet have to deal with. I suspect I will soon enough, but there’s nothing like putting it off as long as I can. She’s growing up fast enough as it is already.

But now there’s Talk to me Barbie in which your child can have a two way conversation with one of Mattel’s biggest commodities. This is accomplished because Barbie is wi-fi enabled and uploads your child’s recorded conversations to the Toy Talk website where an appropriate response is generated. What could possibly go wrong?!

Don’t get me wrong, I’m a huge technology/futurist nut. I’ll be first in line for a self-driving car. I suspect that in the near future, everything we say will end up being recorded and saved on some server somewhere. But for now, while I can’t choose my daughter’s friends or the conversations she has with them, I can at least choose her toys. (Don’t get any ideas, grandparents!)

So despite the best of intentions Astronaut Barbie, Surgeon Barbie and Firefighter Barbie; your presence will not be needed here. I appreciate the positive role models and commercials encouraging confidence but until the arched high-heeled feet go away and a more realistically proportioned figure is represented, Barbie has no future here.

I will probably be eating these words at some point.

The well played -with box

Better style than Barbie

Doing our Best

Parenting is hard.  I don’t think anyone ever looks at the prospect of being a parent (planned or not) and says “I’m just going to do a half-ass job raising this kid”.  Every parent is going to try as hard as they can to raise their kid to the best of their ability.

I’m pretty judgemental when it comes to parenting and I see what I believe to be horrible examples of parenting in the world. (Like that time I overheard a dad telling his daughter that she couldn’t get a toy that was meant for boys.) I suspect other parents are equally judgemental of my ‘style’.  But I’ve gotten pretty good lately of reminding myself that this person is just trying their best with what they have.  And I don’t have any idea what kind of environment they themselves were raised in. For all I know the father that I mentioned above was physically and/or emotionally abused growing up. Maybe he was born into a horribly sexist family and I’m actually seeing a more watered down version of that sexism. I still don’t believe this is morally right, but it is a step in the right direction.

So to all those parents out there that I might have smirked at or given the stink-eye to, I truly apologize.  It is insensitive of me to judge you without knowing the circumstances of a given situation.

Parenting is hard. Every parent thinks about their own childhood and how they vow to do things differently or the same.  Fortunately, (or maybe not) there is now the Internet and more information than any parent can possibly sift through.  We pick and choose what we want and try to do what sounds good to us. 

For me, articles like this about not being perfect are a good blueprint for the kind of parent I would like to be. But even in striving for less perfectionism, no one is perfect. I have raised my voice unnecessarily when speaking to my daughter. I have acted poorly in communicating with my family. Ideally, I should apologize after these incidents, but I don’t always. 

Parenting is hard.  I’m doing my best. Go ahead and judge me because I will continue to judge you. But after we judge each other, let’s remember that we’re all just working with what we have. Nobody is trying to be an ass. We just can’t help ourselves.

Buddy VS Sweetie

I can’t stop myself from calling my daughter “Sweetie” and her friend (who is a boy) “Buddy”. I don’t do it on purpose.  I realize that I’m perpetuating the assignment of gender roles using the terms “buddy” and “sweetie”. But it’s involuntary. No matter how much I tell myself that I won’t play into gender stereotypes, it happens.  So much for being the self-actualized, twenty first century feminist papa.

Today was the first time I actually stopped myself and used the word “buddy” when getting my daughter’s attention.  Thankfully, she either didn’t notice or didn’t mind because she didn’t say anything.  In the past she has vehemently declared that I cannot call her “buddy”.  But only in the same way that she tells me we can’t “like” each other because we’re father/daughter.  We can only “love” each other.

 I try not to beat myself up over the buddy/sweetie thing.  But it’s hard not to hold myself accountable when I see some of the abhorrent shaming and bullying that happens online and what mostly likely occurs in the real world.  Unless I can make the change happen in myself, how can I expect the rest of the world to stop being an ass towards women and little girls.

Privilege

There are a lot of different kinds of privilege.  Being a white middle class male I am keenly aware of the advantages that I have in life. 

                It’s the privileges that I need pointed out to me that hit me in the gut like a ton of bricks.  Usually it’s my wife pointing them out to me.  Like being able to change shirts in public, for instance.  As a man, I would never be in danger of being arrested, chastised or otherwise berated if I decided to change shirts in public.  Women are not offered the same luxury.  At least not yet, for those of you paying attention to the “Free The Nipple”(Wikipedia link) movement.  But that’s a whole other topic.

                This privilege of being able to change my top in public seems obvious but I hadn’t really thought about it until recently.  I wonder what other privileges I have taken for granted.  I wonder what privileges my daughter will and will not have due to her status as a female.

Turning 40

I wrote pretty consistently here before and after my daughter was born.  Then somewhere along the line I stopped.  I’ve written a random blog entry here and there promising myself to get back into it more consistently again.  Here goes another try.

                I turned 40 this year.  I think 40 is a pretty big deal.  I wasn’t expecting it to be, but it is.  I remember turning 30 and thinking the whole world was going to change… then it didn’t.  So I assumed 40 wouldn’t be any different.

                It is SO different.  And I’m not sure I can adequately explain it.  Maybe it’s the extra hair growing out of my eyebrows. (and other places)  Maybe it’s the white hairs mixed in with the brown.  Maybe it’s the click I feel in my right kneecap when I walk.  Maybe it’s watching multiple individuals of my grandparent’s generation disappear one by one.

                Besides all that, it just feels different.  Maybe it’s also having a 3 year old daughter now and trying to be an engaged, emotionally close father and husband. 

                I’ve also had the same job for going on 8 years now.  The longest I’ve ever lived in any one place was 5 years from 8^th grade to 12^th grade.  Not like I had much choice back then.  But in the 13 years after getting my undergraduate degree, I’ve never lived anywhere or had a single job for more than 2 or 3 years.  So that’s another thing that’s different now. 

                I still have at least 27 years to go until retirement so I’m not even halfway through my career yet.  But I have been watching my retirement savings accounts increase in value which contributes to making me feel all “growed” up and might also have something to do with 40 feeling like a milestone.

                I’m not sure where I’m going with all this.  I think I had a point that I wanted to make but it turned all stream of consciousness on me. 

                Turning 40 has felt like a big deal to me.  Not in a bad way.  In fact, things are pretty darn good… and… different.  Turning any age won't be a bad thing as long as I have this in my life:

 

Menenism (aka: douchebaggery)

     I try to be as objective as possible when confronted with opinions I disagree with. But I might make an exception for the fatuous blowhards who call themselves 'Menenists'. What a bunch of pompous narcissistic buffoons.

     When I hear these guys start to whine about the unfairness of their lives, I want to pull out a scanning electron microscope to find the worlds tiniest violin so I can play them a tune.

It takes a monumental effort to keep my eyes from rolling back towards my brain when they spout vitriol towards today's developed countries where there's no 'need' for femenism because women have equal rights. (right!) Because... they can vote. Isn't that enough?

     The 'rights' that these so called menenists are fighting for aren't even the kind of rights that would promote any kind of sexual revolution for men. They would be perfectly content maintaining the status quo. Defending the right for men to act all macho isn't something that needs to be justified because it's already ubiquitous in today's society. (sadly)

     If we really want a sexual revolution for men (and some of us do) we would be fighting harder for paternal leave and shamelessly choose to stay at home while our spouses work. We would be building up our confidence so that we can wear pink skirts with our daughters without feeling embarrassed. We wouldn't be 'threatened' just by sitting in a Chevy Aveo. Yes, someone once told me that they wouldn't be caught dead sitting in a Chevy Aveo. It's sad to think that a male ego is so fragile that simply sitting in a small car would be enough to shatter it.

Thoughts of her getting older...

On my way to dropping E off at school this morning, she excitedly told me that on her next birthday she will be 4!  "And how old will you be after that?" I ask.
  "5!"
We went on doing this until she got to 25 or so.  She may have skipped a number or two.  I'm not sure because then my head started spinning with the thought of her at those ages.  For some reason 13 and 25 particularly jumped out at me.  I thought of her as a middle school 13 year old trying to navigate all the challenges this will bring to the both of us.  And again at the age of 25 when she will presumably be on her own doing whatever it is she wants to do. (Hopefully happy doing what she loves)
   There's a reason it takes a couple of decades to raise a child:  Because fathers and (I assume) mothers need a little extra time to come to terms with their children growing and maturing right before their eyes.
   I think my dizzy spell of imaging my daughter as a 13 year old hit me as hard as it did because I know now how much has changed in the last 3 years.  Trying to extrapolate that through the next 10 made my brain hurt.
   Then my day was topped off listening to a story on NPR about Molly Parks.  A heroin addict who died of an overdose at the age of 24.  Her father, Tom, who I think is not an ass had some very good things to say.  It's worth a listen and you can check it out HERE.
   I couldn't help wondering a couple of things listening to this.  How could a young woman become addicted to drugs if her father is engaged, devoted and loving?  I found myself wondering what Tom Parks missed that allowed his daughter into a lifestyle like this.  But Tom sounds like a pretty good guy.  What if there was not a single thing he could have done to prevent this?  Which of course brings me to my other thought that will feed my nightmares in years to come.  What is to keep my daughter from the same fate?  This makes me feel angry, incensed and hopeless all at the same time.
   Here I am now at the end of the day trying to sort out these feelings as my 3 year old daughter lies asleep on her Frozen bed sheets at 9:30pm.  At least now I know where she is.

Public Easter Egg Hunt..E

We're never doing THAT again.
   After participating in our first and last public Easter Egg hunt I have a few observations.  Just to warn you this is going to make me sound like a pretentious socialist dad who would look down his nose at pretty much every parent that will never lay eyes on this blog entry.
   I found myself on the front line of the first hole at a golf course where a couple of thin ribbons stood between a couple hundred kids aged 3-6... and a fairway of colorful plastic eggs about 50 yards away.  A couple of sandwich boards indicated the "rules" of the hunt:
  No running
  Parents can help but are not to touch the eggs
  No pushing
  One golden egg per child
In addition to these rules, an employee with a megaphone communicated (or tried to communicate) that due to the large turnout of tots, there is a 3 egg limit per child.
  Right.
  You can probably imagine how this turned out.  Needless to say, the rules were broken and there was much crying.
   My daughter, despite obeying all of the rules and only coming up with a single empty egg that a random mother was shamed into dropping, stayed surprisingly calm.  She handled the whole situation like a champ.  Not bad for a 3 year old.

   I'm not sure how this chaos could have been prevented.  I'm not sure why there were kids with baskets and bags full of eggs unwilling to share after noticing the crying kids around them.  I'm not sure why a dad I overheard tell his son not to cry if he doesn't get any eggs.  I suspect the emotional damage that has been done to this poor boy has left him more desperately needing to cry than anyone else.  (But that's another blog post.)
   As I carried my daughter away in her pastel blue and yellow Easter dress, I felt like this is a perfect model of capitalism... and why pure capitalism doesn't work.
  First, the kids who worked the hardest (ie. ran the fastest) ended up with the greatest number of eggs. (Let's call this group the 1 percenters)  Those who followed the rules, least willing or unable to work (run) ended up with nothing. (Egg poverty) The greatest percentage of kids in between ended up with a handful of eggs. (The middle class)  Not surprisingly, the 1 percenters were the ones least willing to share their abundance of eggs.  Why should they.  They 'earned' their eggs, right?  If they want to gorge themselves on chocolate and candy it's their choice.  I watched my daughter's friend give her one of his 3 eggs.
   Just imagine if the one percenters gave up a third of their eggs to those who were just a little bit too slow in joining the fray.  There would be a lot fewer criers.
   This blunt metaphor brings up a lot of questions that my wife and I discussed on our drive home tonight.
   Why are some people more willing to share than others?  Why is it easier to share with those of your own community or family structure?  Is it human nature to be kind or is there some philosophical ulterior motive to acts of kindness that only benefit yourself.
   And why the hell are so many bratty kids unsupervised by ass-parents who probably don't live by societal and moral rules themselves!

***Update***
Case in point:
THIS!  A short article about an attempted world record egg hunt in Sacramento.  This reeks of the holiday "spirit" that is now common around the Thanksgiving weekend.

Teething?

It's been a rough couple of days although you wouldn't know it from looking at this video:

VB has been home from daycare for two days now.  My wife has been taking most of the responsibility by taking time off work to be at home.
   VB was running a high fever Sunday night and wakes up pretty miserable with a hacking cough that scares me into thinking she's going to vomit all over the world.  Every hack I squint my eyes dreading what might come up.  So far, though, she's managed to calm back down before it gets to that point.
   The temperature is normal now and based on the stuffy nose, runny stool and jamming her fist down the back of her throat, I am assuming that those 2-year molars are the cause of all our torment.  I looked in there with a flashlight today but sadly, there is no sign of enamel.  I think this means we have a long way to go.  Ibuprofen to the rescue!  She reliably perks back up for a few hours after administering a dose.  Maybe I'll try to get a video of her waking up so we can compare and contrast.
   I love that the ball swishes right through her legs at the end of this video.

Almost 2!

So I decided something a while back.  I decided that a good way to not be an ass is to stop feeling guilty about not writing any blog entries in what feels like forever.  I decided that if I forced myself to spend 15-30 extra minutes each day writing something here, that's 15-30 minutes less time that I could be spending with my daughter and/or wife.  So sorry about your luck... whoever you are.
   That said, here I am now writing at 9:30pm on a Sunday night.  Both wife and daughter are asleep and I probably should be, too.  But I finally thought it would be a good time to say something here.  Especially now that VonBebe is almost 2 YEARS OLD!  (in 4 days)  Seriously, how did that even happen?
   As much as I wanted to keep up with regular entries, I just couldn't bring myself to do it.  I made lots of excuses for myself but in the end, I just chose other priorities above this.
   And here are some of those priorities:

Fatherhood has been the best thing ever to happen to me and I think it suits me well.  That and I helped make a pretty stinkin' cute kid.

Almost19 months old

I was really hoping to write more posts this summer.  But things got away from me as they usually do for parents.
   I just returned home from my 20 year high school reunion where a classmate told me that he regularly read my blog back when VB was still in Utero.  This alone is enough to motivate me to write more.  When someone else asked about the title of the blog, I had a hard time articulating who the "ass" is in the title.  I spouted something about douchey dads or inattentive fathers.  Well after giving it some thought I developed some specific ideas as to what kind of dad might be an "ass".  Here they are... Jeff Foxworthy style:

• If you spank your kid, you might be an ass
• If you refuse to read pregnancy books or child rearing books, you might be an ass
• If you've never even heard of Dr. Sears, you might be an ass
• If you refuse to change diapers, you might be an ass
• If you won't push a stroller because it's not manly, you might be an ass
• If you won't let your finger and toe nails get painted, you might be an ass
• If you won't put a clip or barrette in your hair, you might be an ass
• If you were not in the same room when your baby was born, you might be an ass
• If you don't know what a barrette is, you might be an ass
• If you don't take time off work to help your partner with your new child, you might be an ass
• If you only ever give your daughter pink, you might be an ass
• If you only ever give your son blue, you might be an ass
• If you EVER call your pregnant wife fat, you might be an ass
• If you spend too much time on your smart phone, you might be an ass

This is my opinion only.  I fully realize that I have some close family and friends who fall into some of these categories.  I also realize that times are different today than they were 50 or even 20 years ago.  I find myself victim to some of the above comments as well.  (It's really hard to tear away the smart phone sometimes)  I guess I'm saying that if you fall short in just a couple of the above points, you're probably not an ass.  If you identify with every single one, you are most decidedly an ass.  But if that's the case, you're probably not reading my blog. (that would fall under the "refuse to read" point)

   Sadly, I think the guys who are asses don't realize what they're missing.  And I don't know how to get them to understand.

   Feel free to add more points.

Meanwhile, here's my daughter being awesome....

And me trying not to be an ass...

17 Months

We just spent our first night without mom and it was pretty... successful.  There was one long period where VB just couldn't get comfy.  But aside from that, I think we both actually got enough sleep.  
   Here's an earlier shot of her in her own bed.  Mind you, she still spent most of the night in my and my wife's bed.  Co-sleeping FTW.

I think mom was way more worried than either VB or myself.  I'm glad it's only for one night, though.

   So... I use Pinterest.  (Jumped on that bandwagon kind of late actually)  And it's pretty awesome.  I have one board where I post everything that has to do with VB.  Any time there's an article on FB or the interwebs that I find relevant, I pin it.  The board is already quite full.  But there's nothing like a little mass marketed mania to give me pause.  

   While all this information is overwhelming, I take great comfort in the communal knowledge that I have gained with these resources.  A big one that has had me more than a little scared is knowing when and actually having the sex talk with my daughter.  I'm still a ways off, yet, but spending our first night alone is cake next to having this conversation.  Fortunately, some of my pinned resources will make it easier.  Like THIS, for instance.  Armed with this information and more, I might just make it through raising my daughter without making a complete ass of myself.  (I said a COMPLETE ass of myself.  It's already too late in many respects)

    17 months old and she's getting pretty good with a fork and spoon.

   

Violence against women

Would I have given this topic as much thought if I had a son instead of a daughter?  I'd hate to think so.
   There's a lot on this subject circulating the internet right now.  And it's good that this information is getting out there.  We owe it to men like Patrick Stewart who have been fighting this fight long before it has become more mainstream.  HERE is an example of why Stewart is the most awesome Enterprise captain (actor).
   And HERE is Jackson Katz showing us why it is men's problem.  It's up to all of us to make sure the next generation is less violent towards women.
   I don't think I can say it any better than these gentlemen so please watch the above links.  They are definitely not asses.  If we follow their lead, it will go a long way to not making an ass of ourselves as well.
   MLK Jr. said it best:  "I became convinced that noncooperation with evil is as much a moral obligation as is cooperation with good"  Which means even though we're not violent against women, sitting back and letting others be violent against women means we are still part of the problem, not part of the solution.  Let's all work to be part of the solution for a better world that VB can live in.  I mean really, the world is already broken enough.  Let's try to fix a few of the problems.
   Now here's a video of VB chasing bubbles.  I love that she doesn't have a clue about things like violence against women, racism, or crimes against humanity.  I wish it could stay this way forever.