Letter to the outside world

It's been two hours since the infant took me hostage.  It all started innocently enough, with a bottle of milk in one hand and a soothing bedtime melody playing on the radio... a beautiful lullaby, by the great children's musician Noel Gallagher.

By and by, we rocked.  We stared into each others eyes and before long, sleep fell upon the infant... or, at least, a semblance of sleep.

Then, the moaning began.  Powerful, incessant, belaboured moans seemingly designed to drive me up the wall.  Moans so loud neighbouring children were kept awake in nearby chambers.  Moans so long I wondered if my captor was planning on inhaling ever again.

Stockholm Syndrome perhaps setting in, I began to empathize with my captor. 'She's just trying to get to sleep,' I thought.  'Years from now, I'll look back on her moans with fondness'

But not today.

After what seemed like hours (in reality a mere dozen minutes), my captor lay quietly asleep in my arms.  Time for a quick getaway, I figure.  Not so fast, papa.  Not so fast.

The mere thought of laying my captor in her crib beckons the moans, return.  Now, louder.  And in my annoyed state, the moans take on an arrogant tone.  Like a child dangling their finger a centimetre from anothers' nose, as if to say, 'what are you gonna do about it?'

In time, quiet sleep returns.

Then moans.

Then sleep.

Then moans.

Then, sleep?

Yes?

Nope, more moans.

Then sleep.

Then moans.

[Hours pass in the same fashion... ok, about 30 minutes, but that's a long time dammit!]

And then, my escape arrives.  But for how long? The joys of teething.

Viewfinding

I like to think of myself as a photographer-in-training.  I have a basic dSLR, a couple of decent lenses (until I broke one of them recently), and ambition.  What I lack is time, skill and the trained eye of a pro.

To help with the latter two, my wife bought me a few photography books for Christmas; namely, The Digital Photography Book series by Scott Kelby.  These are great books.  They're simple, funny, and easy to understand.  There are step-by-step instructions on how to capture great images and ideas on how to think differently when looking through the viewfinder.

I suppose as Pea gets older and more self-sufficient, I will be able to spare more time, cultivate some skill and train myself to capture better images... to see things differently, and to use my camera to its full potential.  Until then, I'll just keep on keepin' on.

Here are a few I managed to capture in The Distellery this Summer, long before I knew the difference between f/stop and aperture.  Most of you will easily spot the overexposures and poor composition.  But I like 'em.

 
Here's where I hope to get, over time - http://advanceafewstepsback.blogspot.com. A few of these are hanging in our house.

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!

Now showing...

I hope the characters of Pea's youth don't one day falter in her adulthood.

We read to our little Pea. A lot. Every night we read her one or two books, and we also read to her before nap time. While I wasn't a big reader as a youngin', the Pod was a big book enthusiast and I am hoping Pea picks up where her mom left off.

For those that don't have kids, or who have moved beyond this phase of their lives, many of the books we find ourselves reading Pea are the very same ones we were read as kids. Goodnight Moon, Little Nutbrown Hare, countless Little Golden Books and many a Munsch tale are all prominent fixtures on Pea's bookshelf.

What boggles my mind is that we are beginning to see the characters from our youth coming to life on the big screen. Sure, comic books sagas have been made into films before, but I'm talking about the tales that define many a thirty-something's childhood.

Examples? Ok. Maurice Sendak's Where the Wild Things Are is scheduled for release in October and Lewis Carroll's Alice in Wonderland will hit the big screen next year.

As I watch the trailers for these films (see below), I can't help but wonder whether the movies themselves will match the strength of my youthful imagination.

I also wonder if Pea will one day come face to face with the characters from the books we read to her today. Will Frisson L'Écureuil make a major motion picture one day? Will Pea get to see Little Miss Curious take on Little Mr. Tickle in a big screen Battle Royal? Who knows.

I'll let you know what my opinion is once I've seen Alice and Max on the big screen. My hunch is that I won't be disappointed.

I may not know what I want my Pea to become, but I hope the characters of her youth don't one day falter in her adulthood.

Thanks for nothing, Allashua

I hope Pea doesn't break her promises.

As part of our nightly routine, I sometimes read Pea a bedtime story from a giant book of Robert Munsch tales.  My favourite Munsch story is called A promise is a promise.  It is about a young girl - Allashua - who breaks a promise to her parents and temps the horrible Qallupilluit with near-dire consequences.  

This is an amazing story with fantastic illustrations and I love the story because of its origins and its lesson in morality.  Robert Munsch wrote A promise is a promise with a man named Michael Kusugak.   It is based on a Native legend, handed down over generations, and was used to keep Inuit children from venturing too close to the dangerous sea ice in the Winter. 

I read Pea this story not too long ago, and I have the familiar refrain "A promise is a promise" embedded in my head for good.  

I should have remembered this before I went to put Pea to sleep tonight.

The Pod was away again this evening, so it was just us... I managed to get through Pea's bedtime routine just fine with a nice warm bath, a massage and some bedtime stories.  

After the stories, the Pod usually tops Pea up with some boobie juice and then off to sleepy land she goes.  Well, it looks like Pea is wise to our shenanigans because she knew damn well the Pod wasn't around to feed her tonight.  

With this in mind, she did what any self-respecting infant with separation anxiety would do - she cried for 45 minutes straight.  I'm talking the heart-stopping wails that are half-cries, half "My mommy's never coming back" sobs.  

As I tried to get her to sleep, I made her every promise in the world... Mommy will be home soon... It's OK, Daddy's here... and the one I regret as soon as it came out of my mouth, Don't worry baby, I won't leave you until Mommy gets home...

Three hours later, the Pod returned home to find me slumped in the rocking chair in Pea's room, eyes glazed over with Pea sleeping on my chest.  It took me a full minute to get out of the chair and I grunted and groaned like fat Elvis after an all-night burger bender.

Now I know Pea had no idea what I said as I tried to get her to sleep, but a promise is still a promise.  True to my word, I stayed with her until her mommy got home.  Morality doesn't take time off people, you've got to mean what you say to your kids! 

I learned a few important lessons tonight.  First, don't write cheques your ass can't cash, so to speak.  Second, always have a big-person book close at hand, just in case.  Third, don't ever assume you'll be able to go pee when you need to; go when you have the chance.

I may not know what I want my Pea to become, but I hope she doesn't break her promises. 

PS - Henceforth, Mortimer, Be Quiet! is my favourite Munsch tale.