Follow the Leader

Why do Ontarians have so much trouble understanding basic driving principles? The government has spent taxpayers money on signs reminding us all of the common rule, keep right except to pass or slower traffic keep right. Why is this concept too complicated for the drivers of Ontario to understand?

I understand there may be circumstances where this rule cannot be followed (i.e. rush hour or possibly even in the downtown areas of larger cities) but for the most part, there is no reason for drivers to ignore this simple concept. Every time I head out in my car, I bear witness to this phenomenon forcing me to pass on the right because drivers do not follow this ideology. Some drivers go so far as to speed up while being overtaken on the right only to slow down again when the threat of being passed ends. These practices can only lead to bad things.

As I was sitting in my car yesterday while my wife was at the wheel heading to the Toronto Zoo, I observed the happenings and came to a couple conclusions. The first conclusion is that people act differently while driving cars and people prefer to follow. As Stinky T noted in her post ‘Randomosity’, people do not seem to like line-ups but in their cars, people are more than happy to fall in line behind someone and form a queue. When in cars, people seem like they would rather follow someone else than to take the lead and set the pace (except for those who drive 10km/h under the limit).

Maybe this trend occurs because people do not like to think while in a car or they prefer to stare at the rear of a car as opposed to the marvels of Ontario. Who knows! In my opinion, people are just stupid and ignorant. And yes, I do fall into this category at times too, just like everyone else, but unlike some others, I try to limit my stays.

Looking Forward to Looking Back

As my time at home is only days from ending, I find it fitting that I should recap the past four months with baby my son so when the conscious memories of this adventure are replaced by the chaos and confusion of my workplace, I will be able to use this post to yank these memories back from the dark crevices of my mind and be reminded of the joys and triumphs we experienced together. I realize that not every person has been or will be afforded the opportunity I had with my child and that is a shame but unfortunately, that’s life. Even despite the recent frustrations I am experiencing, (to be discussed more later) these past four months have been great and I would have liked to spend more time with my son but since my money tree is not growing as hoped, I must return to work before they give my job to someone more competent.

I divided my time at home into eight separate stages: novelty, reality, routine, nothing changed except the time, the new routine, it’s okay to crawl, the more recent stage, leave the cat alone, and the upcoming, calm before the storm stage. Some of these stages are self-explanatory but I will elaborate on each stage, in my own special way, so no one has to guess at what happened during every stage. To keep with logic (for many reasons but mostly because in a few days logic might take a trip south not be heard from again for some time; I do work in government after all), I shall stick with the chronological time-line of things and begin my recap with what I like to call the novelty stage.

Like all new things, from toys to jobs to experiences, there is a period of ecstasy where one cannot think of anything but the new. I refer to this period of ecstasy as novelty. There is nothing more ecstatic than to not work but still be paid, even if just a percentage of the regular wage. Put that together with having the opportunity to spend some quality time with a son (or daughter) while they are solely dependent on you, and there are not too many things better than that. During this stage, every thing is new and is, therefore, fun and exciting, even changing diapers were exciting, that was until the real nasty, stinky poop reared it’s ugly head and I ran from the room retching.

Even with all the excitement, this initial two-week period was a nervous one for me as well, especially the very first week; I was, after all, responsible for another human being for the first time in my life. Lucky for me, my son still really enjoyed his sleep at this point so I was given ample time to spend by myself. At first I just prepared his bottles and relaxed while my son slept but after a couple weeks of ignoring the housework, the build up of cat fur and dust reminded me of my other duties.

Just in case I missed the message with the cat fur, the filth multiplying in the washrooms attacked my senses beating me into submission, forcing me to accept my new reality. The new reality was that I really needed to get into some sort of routine with my son so I could fit some housework into my days. He had an easier time adjusting to me than I did to him and my new role (leading to a bit of frustration on my part) but in the end, after a further week of struggling, we finally figured out our routine.

Once we entered the third stage with a set routine, things became so much easier for me. I was able to tell when my son was fine on his own and when he needed more attention so I could plan my day around his moods. I did most of the housework in the morning, usually when my son slept, but some days I could even do some cleaning while he was awake. Those days were especially enjoyable because I could spend my son’s two naptimes doing whatever I wanted, including joining him for a nap. It was during this phase when my son began his imitation of Keanu in his role in The Matrix. I found his mode of transportation quite humourous but my wife was not, and is still not, too fond of it. My opinion in this regard is changing to reflect that of my wife’s now. Looking back this was the best two weeks with my son; he did not move too far so he couldn’t get into trouble and he almost always had his two naps, even if one was short.

I thought things were going along smoothly, I had finally figured out a routine and my son was very rarely getting upset, but then daylight savings began and threw the routine into turmoil. Thankfully, I finally realized that my son’s internal clock did not miraculously change with the clocks so I was able to restore the order and this period did not last past the one week. In essence, nothing changed except the time.

After the time change incident, I synchronized my routine with my son’s once more and created what I like to call, the new routine. The word routine is synonymous with mundane and boring (they really are, check a thesaurus) and this stage really did not change that association at all. Looking back on it now, this stage was perhaps the most relaxing of them all, despite the boredom. The boredom became a non-factor, as I was able to defeat it before it consumed me by reuniting with my Sony Playstation 2 and the accompanying EA Sports games. My son liked to get in the action from time to time as well by trying to grab hold of the cord, the life line of my enjoyment, but I quickly found a solution to that before he could damage something. By the end of this five-week stage, the longest of them all, my son was starting to move around quite well by rolling and thumping about on his back. Midway through the new routine stage, my son started to mess things up by altering his routine slightly each day. (I must teach him the cliché that if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it). These constant changes caused more frustration for me because I lost all my free time and I rarely got through a meal without hearing his relentless cries. I solved this issue quickly by stopping all other activities and focusing solely on him. On the down side, I was unable to play Sony in the waning weeks of this stage. I even had trouble keeping up with the housework but the house was there to remind me of my duties again by throwing fur balls at me from around the corners and from under the furniture. Luckily, I married Superwoman and she came to my rescue during the harder times and helped not only with the housework but also with restoring the house’s good nature.

The house continued to stay clean, relatively speaking, and that was a good thing because my son began moving around the house a little more. During the next three weeks, my son progressively became better at getting around the house but despite our encouraging words, it’s okay to crawl, my son continued to use his head to move about. Somewhere along the way, he decided to try this crawling bit but, even with our attempts to help him, he did not quite understand the principle. Instead of being on his knees, using them to help propel him, he left his bottom extremities limp and dragged himself along with his arm as if swimming along the ground.

My son eventually figured out that using his legs would help him move faster and has since started to use them to crawl. After weeks of what seemed like futile attempts to teach him, my son began to crawl, well somewhat anyhow. Instead of being on his knees with his stomach off the ground, he holds his knees to the side of him, belly on the ground and slides on the ground more than crawling. The view from above is rather amusing as he looks like a frog when he stops moving. Unfortunately, now that he can move around fairly quickly, he does not want to stop and I am constantly trying to refrain him from going where he should not go or to leave things alone that he should not be touching. My cries of leave the cat alone go unheeded. Up until now, the cat has been quite gentle with my son and scampers away when he approaches instead of lashing out with his hind claws. Chasing after my son has been going on for about two weeks now and every day by lunchtime, I am completely exhausted.

The first sixteen weeks have been fun, amusing, and frustrating but, like all things, it must end. To my displeasure, my time with my son has almost reached its end, as Tuesday will be my son’s first day at day care. For me it will be like the calm before the storm. I will have three days all to myself to rest, give the house one last full cleaning (oh boy I can’t wait for this!) and prepare for work. I imagine that I will enjoy being alone Tuesday but by Wednesday, I may start to miss my son and by Friday, I am going to wish I were back at home.
These past four months have been great, even with the challenges involved, but the moment is over and I must return to work. The only bright spot in all of this is that I still have seventeen days to take off work. I am definitely going to make the best out of each and every one of those. Even though my time at home is ending, I am glad I took this time to spend with my son and I look forward to the days to come when I can look back on this moment and truly understand how special this time was.

The Little Giant

We had planned on getting a crib for my son once we moved into our new house, setting it up and having it ready for him when he got home from the hospital but since my son entered this world way too early, the crib was not even purchased let alone set up. Being as small as he was at birth it ended up not mattering anyhow; he spent the first month or so sleeping in his playpen (and he looked dwarfed in that even). In fact it he was almost a month old when we did finally get him a crib.

Ever since we bought the crib and set it up, the mattress was left at the highest setting. Today that all changed. My son has grown so much in the past eleven months that he would be able to climb out of the crib if he got it in his head to do so. Because of that, we had to move the mattress down today. We put the mattress right to the bottom setting so we will not have to move it again until we have to transform the crib into the next stage. He is still a bit on the small side but he is catching up quickly so when he goes to day care Monday, he should not be bullied around by any of the other babies.

Question: The last sentence above got me thinking about a somewhat silly thought. When does a baby cease to be a baby? All other age groups have clear markers as to when they progress into the successive group but I am unaware of the evolution out of the baby stage. I must admit I have never really given this much thought before but the question now seems relevant.

Beware the Fountain of Youth

For fourteen weeks I have been changing diapers and feeding my son without any incidents but my clean, dry record came to an end so early Saturday morning that I thought it was still Friday.

I took my son to the Jays game Friday night but he was not having any fun, nor was he allowing anyone around us to have any fun, so I ended up taking him home halfway through the fourth inning. For those who do not recall the game, Friday’s game was the one that stopped the Jays losing streak at nine games and was the first of two wins in a row. Anyhow, he was so tired when we got home he did not wake up so he went straight to bed. Unfortunately, a short time after I crawled into bed, he decided to wake.

At this point it was around midnight and I was extremely tired but I went to deal with the screaming kid. First order of business, changing his diaper, no big deal, I had changed countless diapers in my time at home that it is almost second nature. This morning was not going to be just a normal morning though. I took off his dirty diaper and reached for a clean one. That is when I heard a strange noise and when I looked down, I saw a yellowish stream projecting from my son. It took me some time to register the event but I finally did and threw a diaper on him and immediately gave myself a once over. To my sheer pleasure, there were no wet spots on my clothing; I escaped the attack unharmed.

Of all the times for this to happen, my son had to pick a time when I was in a zombie like state. I finished changing him, wiped down the change pad and put a sleeper on my son before heading downstairs to feed him. Finally, at two o’clock, I was able to crawl back into the warmth of my bed and sleep with my clean record shattered. I guess it was inevitable so I should just be glad I came out of the incident with a dry shirt.

This Really Happened

I guess the stupidity bug is going around these days. I have a funny story to share as well. This happened to my wife last week when she stopped in at Costco on her way home from work. This was a conversation overheard while standing in line waiting to pay for her items. My wife went in for one item but while heading to that item, she noticed a display of jumbo freezies and stopped to pick one up for me. She ended up grabbing a few other items but they are insignificant as the story relates to this box of freezies.

Unknown idiot 1: I almost bought a box of those freezies last year…

Unknown idiot 2: Uh huh.

Unknown idiot 1: but the box is too big to fit in my freezer.

Her concern of the box size is a valid concern as the box is about a foot and a half long, eight or nine inches wide and about half a foot deep. However, it is not necessary to put the whole damn box in the freezer; it is possible to take the freezies out of the box a few at a time based on the room in one’s freezer and keep the box in a cupboard somewhere else.

Almost…But Not Quite

The days of putting my son on the floor to play and leaving him to his own devices is over, he is now on the move. Until recently, he would thump around on his back, using his head for leverage, but now he is crawling…almost. He still uses his head a lot but now he rolls onto his stomach and quasi-crawls everywhere chasing the cat around.

I say quasi-crawl because my son does not use his knees at all when he moves. At times he uses his feet but never his knees. Occasionally he does get to his knees and we think he is about to crawl properly but then he just rocks. Instead, my son pulls himself forward using his arms as if his legs were not a part of him at all.

Before too much longer, I am sure he will figure out how to use his knees when he crawls and then he will definitely get into trouble. Until then, he is still able to move around and look for trouble. I have lost my freedom either way and have to make sure I keep an eye on my son to prevent him from getting into too much trouble.

Put Me In Coach...