Uh Oh...

I hope the planet lasts long enough for Pea to realize her own dreams.

I am not a vocal climate champion.  I'm not the one speaking loudly about what we can do to prevent or reverse global warming, I am not protesting or blocking the Olympic Torch's progress across Canada, and I do not consider myself to be a 'green' guy.

Mind you, I'm not a non-believer either.  I do my part in small ways... recycling, carpooling, etc. because I believe our planet is headed towards significant peril.  But I'm no Greenpeacer, so to speak.

That's a little bit of context for what I am about to say next.

I'm deeply saddened and disappointed that a comprehensive deal wasn't reached during the Copenhagen climate talks of the past two weeks.  Sure, some progress seems to have been made, but the outcome of this Summit is woefully lacking what the world needed from its political leaders at this time.

The main outcome of this Summit, from what I can glean, is that developed nations worked hard to protect their livelihood, generally at the expense of developing nations.  And Canada's failure to influence change and set a strong example is, quite frankly, a national and potentially long-lasting embarrassment.

So significant is our collective failure to agree on a course of action, that I fear this Summit will be marked in Pea's history books as a major turning point in our inability to protect her environmental future.  I honestly believe that we will look back on this one Summit 20 to 30 years from today much the same way we look back on the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand when we study World War I.

The fact is that politics have once again trumped the well-being of mankind.  My only hope is that the so-called deals of Copenhagen will be further strengthened and some significant change will be put in place.

At least the oil sands are safe.

I may not know what I want my Pea to become, but I hope the planet lasts long enough for her to realize her own dreams.

Blocks, and not the kind with letters on them...

I hope Pea never gets bogged down by "The Block."

By now, most of my faithful readers will know that I've taken a second home at urbanmoms.ca.  My blog, Father Knows Best?, has been a lot of fun to write and my musings have been read and commented on by an entirely new audience, which gives me heart. 

At Father Knows Best?, I've had a fairly easy time coming up with topics to write about... being the only Dad and male blogging on a website targeted to current, soon-to-be and veteran Moms kind of gives me a unique perspective and allows me to frame my experiences in a new light.

Sure, the malcontent in me admits that they haven't all been gems, but I've had some fun ideas and I've tackled topics I never before dreamed possible. 

Like sex.  Yeah, that's right.  Sex.

While things with Father Knows Best? are going well, I've clearly been having a much harder time with what.will.you.be,Pea. 

For some reason, I can easily speak to my experiences as a Dad but coming up with thoughts from the perspective of a regular guy have been much harder to come by lately.  I'll likely regret letting this out of the bag, but here are a few golden nuggets I've considered writing about lately:

• The Blue Jays trading Roy Halladay
• Traffic
• Putting up the Christmas lights in the frigid cold
• Weather in general
• The fact that most of my Christmas shopping is already done

You still there?

I've been writing for a long time.  As a guy who communicates for a living, I've come to understand that writer's block, while painful to go through, is a passing problem.  When I can't find the words I need at work, a night's sleep usually does the trick... and if that doesn't help, the pressure of getting fired usually jogs the mind just enough to create passable work.

So I'm not worried.  This too, shall pass.  But I didn't want any of you, who've supported me since March, to think I'd gone for good.   

Until I get back into a rhythm here at what.will.you.be,Pea, be sure to check out Father Knows Best? and also check out some other great blogs writen by friends near and far.  coffee with julie and sarahcasm are two of my favourites, and the gals in charge always have interesting things to say.

I may not know what I want my Pea to become, but I hope she never gets bogged down by "The Block."

Handy Manny, Wilmer Valderrama and a puddle of drool

I hope Pea never forgets December 6th, 2009.

This was a pretty good weekend.  A friend of ours hosted a Christmas party for our kids yesterday and I got to see 7 toddlers battle it out for attention, steal each others toys, and injure each other in new and unique ways.  Today, I spent the afternoon hanging out solo with my little girl.

Here' a rundown of this afternoon's agenda.

• We danced around the house together.... Pea actually cranked up the volume on the stereo when she heard Muse's latest single.  
• We took an hour to eat a single banana.  
• We ate Premium Plus crackers that were 20 months passed their expiration date... and we called TeleHealth Ontario to make sure we'd survive.    
• We watched 15 minutes of Handy Manny and discovered that Manny is actually Wilmer Valderrama from That 70's Show.

The best part of the day though, hands down, was the 30 minutes Pea spent laughing uncontrollably at a bear of hers that repeatedly emerged from a house the Pod made out of an old diaper box.  He'd scream HELLO! every time she opened the door and this was clearly the funniest thing she'd seen in a while.  In fact, she drooled on the coffee table because she couldn't stop laughing.

I don't want to go to work tomorrow.  If every day could be exactly like this one, I'd be an eternally happy guy.

I may now know what I want my Pea to become, but I hope she never forgets December 6th, 2009.

Meanwhile, back at my other blog...

I hope Pea doesn't mind me promoting my other blog on the blog I built for her.

In case you missed the announcement, I'm not a blogger over at urbanmoms.ca.  Here are a few of the topics you've missed if you haven't been checking our Father Knows Best? since I started a few weeks ago.

• The story of Pea's birth and the day I became a Dad.
• The goofy man-boy and the Costco 'thumbs up' photo.
• Me heading back to work early after Pea was born... for shame!
• If men were the ones to get pregnant...
• What's wrong with Daddy's Little Girl?

Give 'em a read... post a comment... let me know you're out there.

I may now know what I want my Pea to become, but I hope she doesn't mind me promoting my other blog on the blog I built for her.

Progress Report – Celebrity Interview

I hope Pea never loses sight of her dreams.

My long-time readers (i.e. Mom and Dad) will recall a post from August, in which I announced to the world that I want to interview a celebrity for my blog.  If you missed this post, click here for a refresher.

So far, my attempts have not proven fruitful. I have not heard back from a single celebrity and am beginning to wonder whether or not this was but an ill-conceived pipe dream, thought up on very little sleep and a bad diet of junk food and coca-cola. Perhaps my overzealousness has finally caught up with me and it is time to admit defeat.

Granted, I am yet to reach out to anyone, which I will admit is making my search quite difficult. My strategy of ‘they need me more than I need them’ doesn’t seem to be paying off and I think it might be time to shift gears to a more proactive approach. I might have to actually send an email or make a phone call.

It’s a small price to pay for the big story… I guess.

So, dear readers, I’m upping my game. I figure I’ll start small and hope for a nibble.

Does anyone have Tiger Woods' email address.  I feel he might be in the mood to talk.

I may not know what my Pea will become, but I hope she never loses sight of her dreams.

Honey, there's someone at the door...

I hope Pea doesn't believe everything she reads.

A lot of people don't actually know the story of how the stork became associated with the arrival of a new child, so I thought I would enlighten you here today.  Kind of like a PSA, for the stork industry. It really is an interesting story...

The year was 1819.  A young farmer named Harrison Stonewall and his wife lived on a remote farm in Topeka, Kansas.  They raised cattle, mainly, but there was a pond on their farm and Harrison prided himself on maintaining a bit of an oasis for local wildlife.  He'd put out food for birds, kept hay for grazing deer and kept the pond clean for koi fish he brought in from Kansas City.

From the onset of their relationship, Harrison and his wife knew that the possibility of children was remote.  Harrison had been kicked in the groin by a mule as a young child and the lack of adequate healthcare in the neighborhood meant he'd received medical attention too late to repair the damage. True love, however, knows no bounds and the couple married just the same.

One day, while tending to his pond, Harrison witnessed a stork flying overhead.  It circled a few times, descended on the pond and landed a few feet away.  The stork then swam closer and splashed water with its wing all over Harrison's pants and work boots.  Then, it took flight once more and never returned.  

Neither before nor since has there been a stork sighting in the state of Kansas.  Harrison knew this, and dared not tell any one of the encounter for fear of being mocked.  

However, Harrison did somehow feel different.  Overcome with energy, he made love to his wife later that night and as you might expect this story to end, they became pregnant with their first and only child.

Convinced that the stork somehow aided them in the conception of their child, Harrison and his wife built a wooden homage to the stork and placed it beside the pond in their backyard.

If this story seems ridiculous, impossible and stupid, that's because it is... I made it all up, because to me this story makes just about as much sense as putting a wooden stork on your lawn to announce the arrival of your child.

For one, the idea of a stork delivering a child to your house completely demeans the incredibly hard work the mother endured to bring that child into the world.  In most cases, hours of incredibly difficult and painful labour will have followed months of constant physical pain and to dismiss all that by saying a cute stork dropped the baby on your doorstep would, to me, be insulting.

Second, those who've read this blog before know that I keep the basic details of my family life pretty guarded.  Pea is not really my daughter's name, nor is my wife really named the Pod.  So to broadcast all of the pertinent details of my child's birth on what amounts to a billboard on my lawn makes even less sense, again, to me.  Those who I want to know will not need to read it on my lawn.

These are my reasons for stork derisiveness.  That said, if you had a stork on your lawn following the birth of your child, ordered one for a relative, or plan on placing one on your lawn after the birth of your children, I'd love to hear from you.  It clearly isn't my cup of tea, but there is an entire lawn stork industry out there that is thriving, which means plenty of people are keen on the idea.

Leave me a comment and let me know your thoughts, pro or con.  (If you have a hard time commenting on my blog, just choose the Anonymous option when filling out the Comment section... and be sure to leave your name so we know who you are.)

I may not know what I want my Pea to become, but I hope she doesn't believe everything she reads.

PS - Yes, I may have gone a little overboard with my mocking of the lawn stork phenomenon, I assure you I have nothing but love for all parents — those who stork, and those who do not.  Tolerance is the name of the game... and with your help, understanding can also be achieved.

Hide and Seek

I hope Pea never fails to find the beauty in all forms of music.

My favourite morning radio show is on the city's 'urban' station.  They play mainly hip-hop, which means I'm down with Lil' Wayne, Neo, Alicia Keys, Drake and the like.  I can nod my head with the best of 'em.

I much prefer Indie rock, but the lack of an even mediocre alternative station in our city means I am S.O.L. on that front.  So it's either hip-hop, or the CBC for the most part.  Either way, I'm happy, because the CBC is amazing.

Recently, my love of Indie rock and hip-hop came together... in a good way. Hip-hop artist Jason Derulo released a song called Whatcha Say... and the chorus is a sample from Indie artist Imogen Heap's Hide and Seek.

I'm a fan of both songs, really, but the creativity and unique sound of Heap's original song is far better in my opinion.  Here's a live version for your listening pleasure.

I may not know what I want my Pea to become, but I hope she never fails to find the beauty in all forms of music.

PS - If Hide and Seek sounds familiar, you've probably seen Zach Braff's movie The Last Kiss... in fact, if you want a good Indie starter kit, Braff's soundtrack for both The Last Kiss and Garden State are a good place to start.

Daddy's Got a New Gig!

I hope Pea’s friends don’t one day confuse any of her sarcasm for arrogance.

When people describe me, they often use terms like roll-on-the-floor hilarious, handsomest man around, hero, great with numbers, cowlick-free hair, buff, and urban mom.

Well, friends, I am here today to dispel the myth that is Me. In actual fact, only one of the above descriptors is accurate. And it isn’t the one you might think.

I am, in reality, an urban mom. Shocking, I know, since you would have bet your life on ‘great with numbers’.

As of today, I am officially the author of Father Knows Best?, a parenting blog featured on urbanmoms.ca. I was approached a few days ago to join the team of stellar mommy bloggers on the site, and now my task is to bring the Dad’s point of view to countless current, soon-to-be and veteran moms out there in the blogosphere.

That’s right – this Dad is now a member of an online parenting community, with reviews, contests and more, for urban moms.

What will they think of next?

Check out my inaugural post here. And check out the site too: urbanmoms.ca.

I may not know what I want my Pea to become, but I hope her friends don’t one day confuse any of her sarcasm for arrogance.

PS - Fear not, faithful readers, I will still be blogging here.  I'm not going anywhere, there's just more of me to love/hate/be indifferent about!

A tale of two Italy's

I hope Pea never forgets.

I remember being told this incredible story once. It's an amazing tale and well worth the read.  Here we go...

A young man named Alec, barely 17 years old, decides to drop out of high school. He has ambitions that go far beyond the walls of a classroom and while the logical thing to do is finish school, he's itching to see the world and make a name for himself.  

Not long after dropping out of school, Alec decides to leave everything behind in Canada to travel to Europe. He joins up with another group headed in that direction and in no time he finds himself in the heart of old Europe - beautiful Italy. 

Despite being surrounded by strangers, Alec manages to befriend many of his fellow travelers.  They take in the sights together, share stories from back home and find comfort in knowing that they aren't facing an unknown land alone.   

Anyone who's been to Italy knows that it's a country full of love, romance and beautiful women. While in the country, Alec and one of his new found friends meet a couple of young Italian women and despite the language barrier, they hit it off quickly. Soon after meeting, the guys decide to treat the women to a movie at the local cinema. 

When the couples arrive at the theatre, Alec heads to the back of the cinema with his date, and his friend heads to the front. Boys will be boys! 

The lights go down, the movie begins, and the boys are as happy as can be. 

Shortly after the movie begins, a terrible roar can be heard coming from outside the cinema. As the movie patrons scramble to see what the fuss is all about, a loud screeching can be heard and suddenly, the entire front half of the cinema collapses. 

Everyone in the front of the cinema, including Alec's friend and his date, are buried beneath the rubble. None of those trapped will make it out alive.   

After finding a way out of the cinema, Alec finds a safe place to leave his date and rushes to get back to his travel companions.  Upon his return, Alec advises his Captain that he is safe but that his friend was not so lucky.  The Captain then gives the group their orders and they fan out to protect the city. 

There's no rest for the weary.  This is World War II.  

It was about 8 years ago that my maternal grandfather, Alec, told me that story about how his friend died during the war.  You'd have to have known my grandfather to understand that he never spoke about his experiences in Europe and as he told me this story it was evident why; recalling that memory clearly brought him to a place he did not want to visit again.

When I asked my mother about the story, she told me she'd never heard it before.  In fact, she said her father never spoke about the war... not to her, nor to her sister and two brothers.

But he told me.  And now, many years after his death, this remains my favourite memory of him.

I remind myself of this story every November 11th.  Lest I forget.  

I may now know what I want my Pea to become, but I hope she doesn't forget.

Déja-vu all over again

I hope Pea never faces a faulty product.

Pea rides around town in a Bugaboo stroller.  It's a pricey ride, likely worth more than our 1996 Toyota Corolla, but when we bought it, it was with the knowledge that it would be the only stroller we would need to buy.  Part bassinet, part proper stroller, it does it all.  And above all, it has a good track record and is a safe piece of equipment.

I'm sure the folks who bought a Maclaren stroller recently were also confident that their choice was a solid, and safe, decision.  After all, Maclaren's reputation among parents across the continent is as good as they come.

But the Mclaren stroller recall announced today in the US is likely to tarnish that reputation severely, perhaps beyond repair.  Like the SIGG water bottle and Fisher Price toy recalls from the past year, when you mess with the safety of children, you are very likely to lose your customers for good.

And rightly so.  When we were growing up, safety was far less of an issue.  It was considered good to eat dirt - it built immunities.  We didn't wear seat belts.  Our parents not only smoked in the car, they didn't even crack a window.

But this is a different time.  We as young parents are far more prudent and savvy about what's good, and bad, for our kids.  We have the internet... and not just at home.  We can read product reviews and ask questions of an online community from virtually any mobile phone.  More than any other generation before us, we have access to every details about the products we buy for our kids.

Now I am not saying that our parents would have ignored a product recall that could potentially lead to a severed finger.  I'm simply saying that businesses who choose to market a product for children need to be absolutely certain that the trust they gain from a paying customer is never compromised.

Because today's parent has far too many choices to take a chance on a broken brand.  Or a broken hand.

I may not know what I want my Pea to become, but I hope she never faces a faulty product.

The deed is done

I hope Pea never gets out-toughed by a child 95% younger than her.

It's done. 

Last Friday, Pea received her H1N1 flu shot.  Ultimately, the decision just kind of made itself.  The Pod and I discussed it almost daily and it eventually became "Ok, when can one of us take a day off to take her for the shot?"  Somewhere along the line, the decision to actually do it became implied.

I took the day off and along with the Pod-in-law for moral support, we arrived at the clinic at 10:30am.  We were given a ticket at the door that gave us our waiting number, and from start to finish it took about 50 minutes.

Pea barely noticed the shot.  The nurse stuck her with the needle, it took her a few seconds to realize there was something in her arm, she cried for a bit and then stopped.  It was just like every other shot she's received.  She is a trooper if I have ever seen one.

Over the next 30 hours, Pea spiked a fever.  The Pod and I feverishly (pun intended) tried to cool her down with Tempra, compressed and shirtless naps (Pea, not us).  We'd never really experienced a fever before and we were quite worried... even though, on the fever scale, Pea's was quite low-grade.

Upon waking Sunday morning, Pea was right as rain.

The very fact that she spiked a fever, when she hasn't had any adverse reaction to her other shots, had me concerned.  Why this shot and not the others?  I don't think I will ever know, so I'll move on, because I really don't want to think of the reasons.

Now, we wait 3 weeks and return to the clinic for H1N1, Part II - The Booster Shot!

I will say this - Pea fared much better than I did.

That's right... I too received my H1N1 shot.

In my mind, the choice was simple.  If Pea was getting it, I had to man-up and roll-up my sleeve too.  (Actually, I practically had to remove my top... my sleeves were far too tight, on account of my bulging biceps muscle.) 

But I didn't think I would be able to get it so soon.  After all, I am not in any priority group.

From the minute we arrived at the clinic, I asked everyone who would listen if I was allowed to get the shot.  No one flinched, no one debated me, every health care worker in the clinic said yes. 

Despite the permission from all levels, I still felt like I was lying or cheating somehow. But the guilt that I was feeling for taking a shot away from someone truly in the priority group clearly dissapated since everyone in the clinic was virtually emploring me to get it.

The next 48 hours for me were pretty tough.  Muscle aches, soreness and stiffness everywhere, and exhaustion that is far worse than my usual weekend exhaustion. 

Thankfully, the Pod let me sleep in Saturday morning... she is just that special. 

So, for those keeping score at home, when it comes to toughness, I just got beat by a 16-month old.

That's all for now.  I have to go to the gym.  Clearly.

I may not know what I want my Pea to become, but I hope she never gets out-toughed by a child 95% younger than her.

Here's to you, Coyote!

I hope Pea doesn't let life's walls stop her from living.

I had the opportunity to witness something spectacular recently.  It may have been the most embarrassing thing I have ever seen in my life and while I laugh when I think about it, I probably shouldn't because the outcome could have been very bad. 

I was recently in a building with a lot of see-through fibreglass walls... not just windows, but walls.  There were meeting rooms, offices, and so on that are entirely encased in glass. 

It was a very beautiful set-up, one that gives the environment a very modern feel, but it is (as you will see) also a dangerous environment.

Our embarrassing story starts with a young woman walking down a hallway, parallel to one of these glass offices.  She was deep in thought, and as I came around a corner I startled her out of her daze.  She was clearly embarrassed and turned to walk down another hallway. 

The problem with this turn is that there was no hallway.  She turned and walked headlong into one of the glass walls. 

The impact was quite spectacular.  There was a loud thud and she bounced back about a foot before realizing what she had done. 

You know in the Roadrunner cartoons, when the Coyote slams into an anvil and then vibrates backwards a few feet?  It was like that.

Now, she didn't appear to be injured.  In fact, she said she was fine when I scampered over to ask her if she was alright.  But in an embarrassing situation like that, would anyone really admit to an injury?

Now, every time I think about it, I laugh.  A hearty LOL kind of laugh.

But why?  Why do I/we laugh in situations like these?

Here's another example. 

In high school, I remember being in a car with the Pod and a few friends of mine and we were stopped at a red light.  Two moms were crossing the street with their kids in tow, riding in a wagon behind them. 

As they left the curb to cross the street, one of the wagons tipped over and the kids fell out of the wagon.  Unaware, the mom kept walking, dragging the kids behind her for a few steps before realizing and picking them up.

As the light turned green and we drove off, the car was in hysterics.  Kids falling off a wagon in the middle of a busy intersection?  Well, that's absolutely hilarious!

When faced with something embarrassing, I think we laugh because we have to; because the alternative is just too unbearable.  Imagine if we dwelled on each of life's missteps and allowed them to overcome us.  We'd be a society of unadventurous and overly-careful people, and change would never come.  We wouldn't be learning from our mistakes, we'd be letting them rule us. 

I've given you several embarrassing anecdotes about myself.  Click here for one example, and depending on whether you believe I was roofied or not, click here for another. 

I can laugh at these events in my life because I have learned from them.  I believe the mom who dumped her kids on the road learned from her mistake also, as will our glass hugger... in good time.

Because the alternative is just too unbearable.   

I may not know what I want my Pea to become, but I hope she doesn't let life's walls stop her from living.

Time to buy some water wings

I hope Pea doesn't mind wrinkly water skin.

Pea started swimming lessons about 7 weeks ago.  We had never taken her swimming before, and the only experience she had with a public splash pad in the Summer was a complete disaster... tears were shed, and I ended up wetter than she was.  Plus, bath time was always a disaster.

So, needless to say I was really worried about what the lessons would be like in the long term.

I am happy to report that she loves the lessons!  Here are a few reasons why I know this:

• When I ask her if she had fun swimming, she vigorously shakes her head "Yes."
• When we get to the pool, she literally drags me to the edge of the pool and proceeds to dip her feet in the water.  If I were to let go of her hands, she'd jump in.
• Bath time has become infinitely more pleasurable for her.  It used to be impossible to wash her hair, since she hated getting water in her face.  Now she pours the water over her own head and laughs when she gets water in her mouth.
• When we arrive at the community centre, a smile always overcomes her.
• She has absolutely no problem when Steph, her instructor, holds her so I can make her feet kick in the water.  Pea never, never, allows strangers to hold her.  
• I secretly think she likes parading around in her cute little one piece bathing suit!  

There you have it.  A young and female Michael Phelps in the making (the fast swimming, multi-gold medal winning Michael Phelps, not the bong loving Michael Phelps).

I may not know what I want my Pea to become, but I hope she doesn't mind wrinkly water skin.

Was I like this in high school?

I hope Pea doesn't undervalue the bravery of high school teachers.

Tomorrow is Take Our Kids to Work day across Ontario.  On this day, grade 9 students from all across the province go to work with their parents, to get a look at what the "real world" is like and to see first hand what being a productive member of society looks like.

I know this, because I'm partly responsible for the festivities at my company.  A brave (and thankfully, über-organized) colleague and I have been planning for the day and it all comes to a head tomorrow.

We'll have presentations on the history of the company, tours of our facility (which is actually quite cool), and a presentation from an incredible guest speaker, that is so secretive I can't even disclose it to you, my faithful reader.

All in all, Take Our Kids to Work is a great program.  The timing is perfect given that these students have 4 years ahead of them to work towards preparing for the next step in their lives.  It allows them to see what their parents do to put food on the table.  And it provides a unique learning environment, at least for one day.

But Take Our Kids to Work day is easily the longest day of my working year.

It always starts the same way.  The kids arrive, shy and awkward because they don't know anyone.  They usually sit as far away from each other as possible, until the room starts to fill up and they have no choice but to rub elbows with one another.

As the day goes on, little cliques start to form of like-minded kids and they become a little bolder.  The class clowns become braver, and 'smart' answers start to make an appearance.  By the end of it all, I'm being interrupted every two minutes and the jokes aren't even that funny... to me anyway.

Ever year, when my work is done and the kids are safely job shadowing with their parents to close out the day, my mind wanders to the same place - there are people out there, not unlike me, that do this type of thing day in and day out for 10 months.

I think of this, and I shudder.

Whatever they get paid, it isn't enough.  Whatever their benefits, the mental health provisions are insufficient.  Whatever good-natured ribbing they endure from friends when they are on summer break, they don't deserve it.

The good news is that, come the end of the day tomorrow, it will be the most possible days until Take Our Kids to Work day 2010.

I may not know what I want my Pea to become, but I hope she doesn't undervalue the bravery of high school teachers.

Maybe I'm misdirecting my anger...

I hope Pea isn't as forgetful as her father.

I took a trip to Montreal today for work.  I had a meeting with some consultants, who are developing some training for a management training program I run at work.  The meeting went very well, and I am looking forward to the training.

Not that you care.  Because really, why would you?

But you should care about what happens next.

On the way home, I headed to the thorough security checkpoint at the airport and did the usual ceremonial travel ritual... removed virtually every piece of clothing, my belt, shoes, watch, glasses, etc., and passed through the metal detector.

Because I was nearly naked, the metal detector detected nothing and I grabbed my stuff and caught my flight home.

Well, I grabbed almost everything.  I forgot my glasses.  My $250 Hugo Boss glasses with my latest prescription that keeps me from getting migraine headaches while I work on a computer.  Tomorrow I get to call the Lost and Found at the airport and hope, nay, pray, that they found them and are willing to help me regain my vision again.  Otherwise, it's new glasses for this guy and a hefty hit to the pocket book.

The last time I went to Montreal, I forgot my Blackberry in a cab.  It took a few days to track down the cabbie, and another few days to get it couriered back to my office.

Because of this trend, I've decided that a grudge against Montreal is in order.  Because it clearly has it out for me.

So Montreal, screw you!  You suck!  You are stealing from me, and indirectly, from my family.  Do you not care that I have a young daughter who might need me to see her clearly and without blur, even though said blur is really very, very minor?

Montreal, YOU ARE RUINING MY LIFE!

I may not know what I want my Pea to become, BUT I HOPE SHE NEVER HAS TO GO TO MONTREAL, BECAUSE MONTREAL TAKES ADVANTAGE OF PEOPLE! but I hope she isn't as forgetful as her father.

PS - The above applies to Montreal, but not my beloved Montreal Canadiens... Go Habs Go!

Ok, let's do it. No, no, wait, maybe not...

I hope Pea doesn't have this hard a time making up her mind.

Yeah, I'm back on the H1N1 thing.  Since I wrote my last post on the topic, I have been pretty diligent in asking other parents what they plan on doing about vaccinating their kids.  I figure, the more info I have, the better.  

I asked the guys at hockey.  I asked the folks at work.  And I reached out to you, my Pea followers.

The answer I got 9 times out of 10 was a resounding 'I don't know.'

Some couples are conflicted; one really wants to vaccinate, the other is steadfastly against it.  Some find the testing of the vaccine to be unreliable and untrustworthy.  Some just don't think the concern is that great.  And some think the risk of not acting is even greater.

To make matters worse, I hear anecdotally that one scientist who worked on the vaccine isn't going to take it, because it is 'unnecessary'.  Then I hear of pediatricians who don't think the vaccine is needed if the child isn't in daycare or at school (Pea is still at home, with the Pod-in-law).

In what I shamefully call a relief, I am somehow encouraged by other bloggers in my world who are just as confused as I am.  

Some are helpful, like Julie who shares information on Ottawa-area vaccination clinics despite being unsure as to whether or not she will get it for her and her family.  

Others, like Sarahcasm, remind us that the concern over health-related decisions isn't a priviledge that everyone around the world enjoys.  While this is a tough decision, we are lucky enough to be able to make a choice, one way or another.

So, I remain torn about what to do, but thankful that my little Pea doesn't yet need to concern herself with such things.  

I'll let her worry about which books she gets to read before bed, and how long she gets to play in the bath.  The heavy stuff will remain on my shoulders. 

I may not know what I want my Pea to become, but I hope she doesn't have this hard a time making up her mind.

I am a Man, therefore, I am an idiot.

I hope Pea doesn’t forever link men with stupidity.

I heard a radio commercial this morning for an international BBQ chicken chain. The commercial went something along these general lines:

Female Voice: Honey, I’m leaving you.
Male Voice: Wuh? (Incomprehensible gurgling and sadness.)
Female Voice: For your brother.
Male Voice: Huh? (More gurgling and sadness.)
Female Voice: And I’m keeping the ring.
Male Voice: Buh… Wuh…

Cue tagline.

Rake in the dough.

Unbelievable.

This commercial follows a trend I’ve noticed in advertising lately… one that seems to coincide with the Judd-Apatow-all-men-are-complete-douches revolution that’s made it hip to be an idiot.

It seems to me that many companies are trying to make a buck, and get a memorable laugh, by portraying their male customers as stupid, lazy and ignorant… capable of nothing more than fumbling through their days at the mercy of the women in their lives.

Now, I would have assumed that the aforementioned BBQ chicken chain would value my demographic (30-something males) for our constant hunger for BBQ’ed meat, not to mention our disposable income.

However, having heard this commercial, I can only assume that they believe I am meek, stupid, bumbling and incapable of defending myself. If this is true, how could I possibly be expected to drive myself to their restaurant for some food…after all, dat dere driving test is mighty tuff to pass, and bus schedules are awfully tuff to read.

(Ok, the logical explanation must be that this BBQ chicken chain is after the female demographic. Not so fast. The female in this commercial doesn’t have it any easier, does she? She’s sleazy, whorish, cold and callous. Women like that don’t eat BBQ’ed chicken; they eat red meat right off the bone. She’s more likely steal the meal from a senior than pay for it.)

Am I wrong here? Does this company just have a bad advertising department, or are companies increasingly making fun of the very people they want to buy their product?

To test my theory, I’m introducing Ricochay’s ‘We’re all Morons’ Commercial Challenge. Your mission: watch 30 minutes of prime time TV, and tell me that there isn’t at least 1.5 minutes of commercials (three 30-second spots) that portray men as stupid and ignorant in an attempt to demonstrate a product’s value.

What’s in it for you? The chance to restore my faith in advertising and humanity. What more could you ask for?  And besides, I have no money for prizes. 

I may not know what I want my Pea to become, but I hope she doesn’t forever link men with stupidity.

Up to no good.

I hope Pea doesn't fail to read between the lines.

I have a weird feeling Dora the Explorer is into some below-board kind of stuff.

Let me be clear -- especially since companies seem to be suing every blogger who holds an opinion contrary to the positive image of their business or products -- I have no concrete proof of my claim, but I do offer the following to back up my suspicion.

• She's from Latin America.  Columbia is part of Latin America, isn't it?  I'm just saying.
• While she is human, most of Dora's friends are talking animals... a squirrel, a monkey, a fox, and so on.  In fact, she spends a great deal of time talking to a Little Star in one book we own, which as we all know is impossible.  
• Why don't we ever get to see what's in her backpack?  
• According to Wikipedia, the internet's most trusted resource, Dora the Explorer (products) made over $1B in 2004.  That's Mexican Drug Cartel kind of loot!
• She can't seem to pick one language and stick with it... it's almost as if she forgets what language she's using mid-sentence.  That's odd, no?

Look, I don't know what's going on here, but this doesn't add up.  Until I can disprove my theory, I don't think I'll be letting Pea put any Dora-related products in her mouth.  Better safe than sorry.

I may not know what I want my Pea to become, but I hope she doesn't fail to read between the lines.

PS - Just kidding Nickelodeon.. we love Dora 'round here, honest!  In fact, we just bought Pea her very own Dora the Explorer chair... you know the one, it's got Boots and Dora running together, chasing a butterfly.  Within 30 seconds of seeing it, Pea was kissing Dora and sitting gleefully in her lap.  It was awesome!

Those who can, do.

I hope Pea doesn't end up with her Dad's singing chops.

There are a lot of things in my life that I wish I could do better.  Sure, I have my fair share of skills.  Sarcasm.  Showering in a relatively short amount of time.  Eating.  But there is lots more I wish I could do better.

What kind of things, you might ask?  Math.  Impressions.  Tending to animals.  And most of all, singing.

While I may not be able to carry my own tune, I can certainly appreciate the skills of others.

Lately, I'm really into the Pete Yorn and Scarlett Johansson album The Breakup, which is far better than many people expect, especially after Johansson's ill-advised debut album of Tom Waits covers.  The first single from The Breakup, called Relator, is the most played track on my iPod and never fails to put a smile on my face.  I urge you to give it a listen (see below).

Closer to home, for me anyway, is the music of MJ Cyr.  

The Pod is good friends with MJ, and introduced me to her many years ago. Since then I have come to know and appreciate MJ for her kindness and her music.

We've been to several of MJ's shows (not recently anyway... since Pea was born we have a much harder time getting out), and she was even a guest at our wedding.  Long story short, I like MJ.

I hope you do too!  You can check out MJ at http://www.myspace.com/mjcyr, but to make things easier, here's the video for her song The Bottom Line.  Enjoy.







I may not know what I want my Pea to become, but I hope she doesn't end up with her Dad's singing chops. 

A choice of global proportions

I hope Pea never has to deal with the harsh realities of parenting in the midst of a global pandemic.

So this H1N1 thing is supposed to get worse before it gets better. It's new, relatively unknown and many parents (myself included) aren't sure what to do to prepare their families for the second coming of this sickness.

The big question is: to vaccinate, or not to vaccinate.  As an added bonus, I have to consider vaccinations for two separate people - myself, and my little Pea.  (Three, really, when I factor in the Pod who, according to recent media reports, is more likely to become infected than any other population segment.)

When the first wave of H1N1 hit the world this year, I was blasé.  I thought, 'far more people will get sick and die from the seasonal flu... what's the big deal?'

I recall hearing a radio report about the first swine flu in 1976, and how many people who got a vaccination to prevent infection ended up getting sick and dying from the untested vaccine and not from the illness itself.

That freaked me out.  I had made up my mind.  No vaccinations for us.  I figured, 'Why chance getting sick from the medicine, if I probably won't get the sickness in the first place?'

But it's becoming increasingly clear that this ain't the regular flu, and I'm responsible for more than myself now.  I should be more judicious in my decision making.

The reality is that times, and technologies, have changed.  I'm sure the development of vaccinations has come a long way since 1976. And as Canada ramps up production of its vaccination stores, it seems to me that great care is being taken to develop a vaccine that is tested and safe.

My point is this, people: I'm waivering.  

So I'm turning to you, for advice and counsel.  What are you doing? Are you getting the vaccine?  Are you vaccinating your children?

I need help here.  In the words of Snoop Dogg, holla at'cho boy.

I may not know what I want my Pea to become, but I hope she never has to deal with the harsh realities of parenting in the midst of a global pandemic.

PS - I am aware that Commenting on my blog is a painful experience, and I am looking at switching to another service.  If you do want to leave a comment, just select the Anonymous option from the drop down menu. 

Morning Snuggles for the Parent's Soul

I hope Pea doesn't mock my sentimentality.

Growing up, I remember hearing my parents talking with other parents about their children...they'd say stuff like "They grow up so fast!" and I'd mimic barfing, because I found it all so annoying.  

Back then, I was young and impatient. I wanted to be older NOW and felt that the kids a grade ahead of me in school were light years away from me in terms of maturity.  The kids 2 grades ahead?  They were practically adults! 

I remember finding coy ways of showing off my armpit hair to the kids at elementary school because I was convinced mine came so much later than everyone else's and I needed to make sure everyone knew mine had arrived. 

I remember shaving with a friend of mine well before I had peach fuzz, let alone the daily growth that annoys me today.  (Fortunately, his dad worked for Schick and we had ready access to shaving supplies.)

Now, I spend my days wishing life would just slow down a bit. 

And why wouldn't I?  I wake up in the morning and my still-groggy Pea finishes her bottle of milk and curls up in my lap to snuggle.  She's clearly sad as I say goodbye to her and practically runs after me to snuggle some more.

I lament how quickly Pea is growing out of her clothes and wonder if it was really a year ago that she stopped needing to be swaddled at night.

I struggle to put up yet another baby gate and recall a time when crawling wasn't even an issue, let alone a quick jaunt towards a hard-wood flight of stairs.

So to my parents, I offer yet another I'm sorry in what has seemingly become a steady stream of apologies brought on by the constant Eureka moments in my life... when the lightbulb goes on, and I finally understand what all the fuss was about. 

Because as great as parenting has been, they really do grow up so fast.

I may not know what I want my Pea to become, but I hope she doesn't mock my sentimentality.

Love and Marriage, Love and Marriage...

I hope Pea doesn’t overlook the teachings of aging Married… with Children star Ed O’Neill.

The pilot for ABC’s newest comedy, Modern Family, aired last night and it was smart, incredibly funny and pushed all the right boundaries in all the right ways. This show is getting incredible reviews and will definitely be at the top of my PVR recording list, right up there with another ABC success, Lost (premiering Thursday, January 21, 2009… that’s 120 days people!).

Modern Family is all about the convergence of 3 different types of families.

• The Reconstituted Family: Ed O’Neill plays a recently re-married 60-something. He’s hooked up with a much younger Columbian woman and finds himself the stepfather to her sensitive teenage boy, who he struggles to relate to both generationally and culturally. 

• The Nuclear Family: O’Neill’s biological daughter (played by Julie Bowen of Ed and Boston Legal fame) is married to a man (Ty Burrell) who is desperately trying to be his 3 kids’ friend rather than their father. She struggles to manage a house with 3 kids and a useless husband; he struggles to use the hippest language possible to relate to his kids on their level. An actual quote from Phil, the goofy Dad: “I'm a cool dad, that's my thang. I'm hip, I surf the web, I text. LOL: laugh out loud, OMG: oh my god, WTF: why the face.” 

• The Homosexual Family: O’Neill’s son (played by Jesse Tyler Ferguson) is gay, in a committed relationship with his partner of 5 years, and they have recently adopted a young child from Vietnam. 

(Big thanks to my Family Studies teacher for teaching me this information... all apologies for not remembering your name.)

As funny as Modern Family is to me, I can’t help but think about how much more relatable it will be to Pea.

When I was growing up… and yes, I’m now using “when I was young” statements… Nuclear families were still the norm. I can recall a few Reconstituted families, fewer Single Parent families, and there were definitely no Homosexual families on the block.

But Modern Family makes one thing perfectly clear… when it comes to family, “normal” quite simply doesn’t exist anymore. And I firmly believe my daughter will be a better person as a result.

If we look at the numbers, it is undeniable that many of us will end up leading an untraditional family. For kids, it used to be divulging an untraditional family dynamic to classmates would potentially lead to ridicule and bullying. But nowadays, can any kid really justify teasing another because of single, remarried or homosexual parents? To do so today would be to tease the near majority, not the fringe.

Our families, and our children, are evolving with the times. Adaptability, acceptance, tolerance and understanding are becoming some of the cornerstones of our society.

Some of you might be saying “Ricochay, we’ve still got a long way to go before we get to this point.” I don’t deny that we still have work to do. But I do believe that we are closer than ever. As our generation raises its kids with a new set of values that are consistent with our reality, we only get closer to our goal. Our kids, and their kids, benefit.

So here’s to you, Modern Family, for showing us all that no matter what type of family you are a part of, it’s normal… and just as screwed up as the rest of them.

I may not know what I want my Pea to become, but I hope she doesn’t overlook the teachings of aging Married… with Children star Ed O’Neill.

PS - Glee, you’re off the PVR.

The timeless art of... sand animation?

I hope Pea doesn't ignore sand animation as a potential hobby.

This is, quite possibly, the coolest form of artistic expression I have seen in a long time. And the fact that this was featured on, and won, one of these (Insert country here)'s Got Talent competitions makes it infinitely cooler (props to my Ukrainian readers). Does the world not embrace talent other than singing?

I may not know what I want my Pea to become, but I hope she doesn't overlook sand animation as a potential hobby.

Judgy McJudgerton

I hope Pea isn’t prone to spontaneous combustion (part II).

Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, it’s time to play “What Did You Say to Me? Oh Hell No!”

The game is simple. We give you a series of crazy antics by some wacky characters. You decide who should be FORGIVEN and who should be SENT TO PURGATORY!

First up is Serena Williams. She threw a hissy fit during her semi-final match at the US Open after an apparent foot fault was called by a line judge. Serena’s tirade, which included a threat of putting a tennis ball up a woman’s unmentionables, forced judges to issue her an additional ‘demerit point’, which ultimately cost her the match.

Ricochay’s take: Serena’s behaviour was self-damaging most of all. She flipped out and lost the match as a result. But she also embarrassed and belittled a woman who was just doing her job and that’s out of bounds. I say SEND TO PURGATORY!

Next we have Republican Senator Joe Wilson, who shouted “You Lie!” at President Obama during a recent health care reform speech to America’s lawmakers.

Ricochay’s take: If Wilson is guilty of anything, it’s poor timing. If you’re going to yell, do it when everyone else is too. That said, politics is as much about theatre as it is about lawmaking, so to condemn him for this outburst would be akin to chastising him for doing his job. Wilson is FORGIVEN.

Irish actor Colin Farrell set a photographer straight while walking the Red Carpet at the Toronto International Film Festival. The photographer yelled for Farrell’s personal assistant/sister to get off the Red Carpet so he and the other photographers could get a clear shot of the actor. Rumour has it that the photographer used the dreaded B-word. Farrell defended his sister’s honour.

Ricochay’s take: When you’re walking the Red Carpet at a prestigious film festival, you should expect that people aren’t going to want photos of your personal assistant… even if she is your sister. The photographer’s job is to art direct so he can get good photos. Had the photographer not allegedly used the B-word, I'd be sending Farrell to purgatory, but there's no excuse for using that word. Farrell is FORGIVEN, and in a twist, let's send the photographer to PURGATORY!

That brings us to Kanye West. As we all know by now, he interrupted Taylor Swift's acceptance speech at the MTV Video Awards and caused one of the most uncomfortable moments in award show history.

Ricochay’s take: Given that the entire thing was staged (that's right, I said it), Kanye is FORGIVEN. There's just way too much that is unusual about the whole situation for me to believe all the players involved didn't know what was going on. 

Last up is the story of a tired and frustrated father who loses his patience with his daughter because she won’t sit still during her diaper change. The daughter - let’s call her Pea - continuously grabs at the soiled diaper, attempts to put her hands on her dirty butt, wiggles and writhes her way off her back and makes it generally impossible to change the diaper.

Ricochay’s take: All parents lose their patience at one point or another. And when you’re dealing with feces, the threshold for impatience is lowered considerable. I say FORGIVEN… the guilt he’s feeling for being short with his daughter is punishment enough.

Well folks, so ends another rousing edition of “What Did You Say to Me? Oh Hell No!” Join us next time when we analyze history’s craziest outbursts, including the Big Bang that created the universe... was this behaviour justified? Find out next time! 

I may not know what I want my Pea to become, but I hope she isn't prone to spontaneous combustion.

Thanks to www.all-about-tennis.com, the US government, www.torontolife.com and Britain's brightest tabloid newspaper The Daily Mirror for the images.

Guilty... and loving every minute of it!

I hope Pea doesn’t overlook the benefits that come with a little guilt.

My life was designed to be as guilt-free as possible. Few vices. Few regrets. Few mornings where I wake up asking “what happened and how did I get here?”

This guilt-free existence was going really, really well… until my little Pea was born. Since then, I have felt shame, remorse and/or guilt at least once a day.

In fact, shame now lives in my spare room and guilt and remorse are building an apartment in my basement.

You want examples. Fine, here are but a few:

• Pea recently fell and bumped her head on the sofa, requiring a visit to the emergency room. She was completely fine, but this was on my watch and I swear that when I picked her up to comfort her she gave me a “how could you let this happen to me?” look. I’m now considering selling the sofa, as it is a constant reminder of the day I let my daughter down.
• We only recently purchased roller shades for Pea’s room, to block out the bright daytime sun during her naps. Just in time too (she is now taking 70% of her haps in another location altogether). 
• We’ve had babyproofing gear in our house for months and I am yet to install everything. What’s more, I’ve failed – on 3 separate occasions – to install baby gates near our staircases. If I can’t do this simple task, how can I be expected to shepherd Pea into adulthood unscathed?
• I haven’t mowed the back lawn in weeks and the mosquitoes that now live in the long grass prevent us from taking Pea in the back to play. Is this my subconscious way of keeping Pea as pale and pasty as I am? Who knows, but I wouldn’t put it past myself.

Despite my ineptitude, Pea continues to thrive. She’s now walking everywhere and appears to have left crawling behind. She’s growing a fresh pair of front teeth and she’s babbling way more than ever before. She is a human sponge, absorbing everything, and I mean everything, at an alarming rate. She’s even sleeping better, on the whole, than she has in quite a few months.

If I had to guess, she appears to have realized that her father is useless and she’s learning to cope on her own, with lots of help from the Pod.

So to all the would-be parents out there, I provide this warning: a guilt-free existence and parenthood are mutually exclusive. You have to pick one and stick with it.

I pick parenthood. Hands down.

I may not know what I want my Pea to become, but I hope she doesn’t overlook the benefits that come with a little guilt.

Mennonite Chic, Part II

I hope Pea doesn’t lack self-worth.

School’s in, so I thought I’d tackle a dress code issue: some schools in the GTA are removing kilts from their dress code.

If you’re wondering why, you’ve clearly never been to the mall at 3:30pm on a school day.

What was once a coquettish fashion choice has turned into the primary weapon used by girls who are vying for the right to claim visible-ass-cheek supremacy. Some girls appear to believe that wearing a kilt means underwear is optional.

The Pod’s contends, and I am paraphrasing, that a bunch of hoochiemammas with no self-respect or tact should not ruin a comfortable and versatile clothing item for the rest of the young ladies out there. She believes banning the clothing will not change the mentality and that we are not getting at the root of the issue.

I believe anything that gets me one step closer to Mennonite Chic by 2020 is a welcome thing. Turtle necks and pants for everyone.

Here’s a link for more information on this issue. Feel free to weigh in.

I may not know what I want my Pea to become, but I hope she doesn’t lack self-worth.

PS – I secretly agree with the Pod on this issue, but don’t tell her… she’ll get a big head and I’ll never hear the end of it.

The day my innocence died

I hope Pea’s friends don’t mistake her for a liar.

What follows is the true story of the night I was "Roofied" at Disney World, in the presence of America’s beloved cartoon rodent. As you will see, I’m not blaming Mickey, necessarily. I’m just saying - he sure didn’t do anything to help.  Neither did my friends.  For shame.

The year is 2004. Fate has placed a free time-share condo in our best friends’ lap and the fact that she is a flight attendant makes this the cheap trip of a lifetime. Excited, we head to Orlando (photos included as evidence of the authenticity of this story).

The first few days of the trip are amazing. We hit up several theme parks, ‘enjoy’ the mandated time-share presentation and get some sun by the pool.

On the third day, after another theme park bonanza, our group decides to have dinner at the condo before hitting Paradise Island for some clubbing.

For those unfamiliar with Paradise Island, it is essentially Disney’s club district. You pay admission to the ‘island’ and gain access to a dozen themed clubs, each playing a different variety of music. You can buy drinks in the clubs or on the street from little booze shacks.

As soon as we arrived, we all headed to a booze shack to get a drink. My pals all get frilly drinks with umbrellas and I order a beer. The bartender pours it into a plastic cup, hands it over, and the fun begins.

Or does it?

As I turn to walk away from the booze shack, something splashes into my cup. At the time, I merely thought my drink was jostled as I tried to make my way through the crowd, but the next morning I would come to understand the real significance of that splash.

What follows this splash is nothing short of horrifying. After a brief stop at a club featuring a revolving dance floor, where I did my best Jamiroquai/Virtual Insanity imitation (it was awesome), I crashed. Hard.

Within 30 minutes I was dizzy, slurring my speech, incapable of staying awake and generally uneasy – all symptoms of Roofiness (source: ever-trustworthy Wikipedia). Less ‘attractive’ symptoms occurred in the cab on the way to the condo, and then back at the condo itself.

Now I know what you’re saying… Ricochay, you’re clearly a lightweight. You were drunk and you couldn’t handle your booze.


I may be a lightweight, and sure, I can't prove I was drugged, but this was different than just being drunk. No one gets that drunk that fast off half a beer. Not even me.

Fortunately, the Pod and my friends stayed by my side the whole time, keeping me from harm. YEAH RIGHT! They tore up the night, leaving me alone on a bench in a remote corner of the ‘island’. In their defense, they checked in periodically and propped my head up using a ketchup bottle, but no ‘lush’ was going to ruin their night.

The next morning was a right-off, but come afternoon I felt right as rain. What hangover have you ever had that just completely disappears like that? A Roofie hangover, that’s what.

The next day, my friends left me to nurse my ‘hangover’ while they hit up another theme park without me as dead weight. Solo, I spent some more time at the pool, and at nearby outlet malls, but I will forever have missed the excitement of that shared.

There it is people. My tale of Roofie misfortune and doubt.  I hope you can learn from this tale.

For years, I questioned the Roofie’ers motivations, until Wikipedia once again cleared things up. It turns out Britons use Roofies to sedate and rob unsuspecting victims. Was I a potential target for some evil-doer? Perhaps. Or maybe I was just some light evening entertainment for said evil-doers.  Only Mickey knows for certain.

At least you, my faithful blog readers, will believe my Roofie misadventures. Feel free to post some words of encouragement and support for me or some remarks of shame for those that don’t believe my tale.

(To leave a comment, simply choose the “Anonymous” option when leaving a remark… I know it’s complicated, I’m sorry!)

I may not know what I want my Pea to become, but I hope her friends don’t mistake her for a liar.

It's too early for this

I hope Pea doesn’t use her head solely as a towel rack.

Here's the scenario.  I'm driving the Pod into work. It’s close to 9am and I am seconds away from dropping her off.

As a good driver, my eyes are darting from left to right, scanning the area for pedestrians and anything else that might dart in front of the car. Pan left, nothing. Pan right, nothing. Pan left, nothing. Pan right, woman outside looking for something in her car, wearing a white towel around her body and a blue towel on her head. Pan left, nothing.

Wait… what?

That’s right people. Too lazy to throw on a bathrobe or a pair of track pants and a tee, this thirty-something thought it would be perfectly acceptable to walk outside like this… and before you go calling me a prude, the white body towel was barely long enough to cover her lady bits. And she was bending over to find something in her car. Do the math. Go ahead, I’ll wait.

Got it? Ok, good.

That’s it. I have nothing more to say about this incident, though it haunts me still.

I may not know what I want my Pea to become, but I hope she doesn’t use her head solely as a towel rack.

What am I doing?

I hope Pea doesn't let the loftiness of her goals prevent her from chasing after them.

Greek philosopher Epictetus once said, "If you want to improve, be content to be thought foolish and stupid." 

I love this quote, on many levels. It speaks directly to trying new things, to the importance of setting and speaking goals for yourself, to being comfortable in your own skin, to making decisions that suit your desires and not those of others, and so on.

People, I love this Epictetus quote so much I put in the "Info" section of my Facebook page. It's that's serious.

So now, in the spirit of this personal mantra, I'm setting a lofty goal for myself; one that will make me seem both foolish and stupid. 

I want to interview someone of consequence for my blog, on the topic of parenting of course. A celebrity, a politician, an expert or specialist of somekind, etc. A father, ideally, since the web is rife with with mommy blogs that feature mommy bloggers, blogging from a mommy's perspective. 

Imagine reading my interview with Matt Damon, where he tells us that his greatest fear for his darling Isabella and Gia is not that they will fall into the trap of young celebrity, but that they grow up to be, in any way, anything like Ben Affleck.

(Why so much Matt/Ben animosity, you wonder? You see, by the time I interview Matt he and Ben will have had an epic falling out over the plot to Good Will Hunting 2... Matt wanted to show how his character evolved to deal with his great gift while Ben wanted to show how his character deals with the untimely death of Matt's character in the first 5 minutes of the movie.)

So there it is. I think it would be fascinating to hear what 'famous' fathers fear most for their kids, given their unique position in this world. Their anti-hopes and anti-dreams for their broods, in a manner of speaking. 

The mission begins. Stay tuned.

I may not know what I want my Pea to become, but I hope she doesn't let the loftiness of her goals prevent her from chasing after them.

The Abbott and Costello of Father-Daughter Duos

I hope Pea never stops having fun.

What makes me laugh, you ask?

Oh, I don’t know, a good stand-up comedian with witty observations on relatable topics. Or improvised acting that shows someone’s deft ability for quick thinking and teamwork. Or a well-placed comeback by one of the guys. Or too much booze (which usually makes that well-placed comeback even funnier!).

What makes Pea laugh, you ask?

Me, apparently! Simple things too. Like when I peek around a corner to see where she is, and she catches me in the act. Or when she is holding my hand and trying to get me to walk in a certain direction, and I want to go in the other direction. Or when I lift up her arm so I can check to see if “her armpits are working” by tickling them.

Tonight, though, Pea revealed something new that makes her laugh - herself! While taking her bath, Pea was holding a sopping wet rag when she decided to whip it around in the air, causing all the water to fly in her face and mine. The result was a laughing fit that was easily the longest and most sincere I've ever seen her pull off. Her face turned red and she repeated the whipping at least a dozen times, laughing just as hard every time.

In the end, we were both laughing maniacally when the Pod came in to check on us and make sure we were OK. It was awesome.

I can't wait to share more laughs with her as she learns what she finds funny. And I guess this means I can add one more thing to my list of things that make me laugh: Pea.

I may not know what I want my Pea to become, but I hope she never stops having fun.