On Disney and the Movies that Never End, Tangled Edition

I have very mixed feelings about this Walt Disney fellow. Not only did the man create, but also, because of his success/vision/financing(?), allow to be created, some of the greatest family movies and cartoons of all time. Disney, and now Pixar, are mighty companies, designed to delight children of all ages (and delight their shareholders as well). Disney owns theme parks, cruises, TV networks, Broadway shows, and so much more. They have even acquired two entities that I love: Marvel and Star Wars. Despite what I think of the company's marketing/merchandising machine and my concerns over what will happen to the my beloved Star Wars franchise, the most important thing for me right now is that my three-year-old daughter has been sucked into that machine.

It started when my wife and I decided to put on Cinderella for my youngest. My daughter has never been a huge TV watcher, primarily because we don't watch a ton of television. When she did watch TV, a lot of it was music based (i.e. Barney) and never any full-length movies. We put Cinderella on thinking she would just watch for 10 minutes, if that, and ask for something else or move on to some other activity. That girl sat through the entire film, eyes glued to the TV. She laughed, she asked pertinent questions and said "Oh no!" at the appropriate moments. My wife and I were stunned. And then came the words I dreaded to hear... words that brought back repressed memories from when my three oldest children were younger.. my daughter looked me in the eye and said "Can I watch that again?" Aaaaargh! It was starting!

"Can I watch it again?" How can children watch the same movie (or TV show) over and over again? I mean, what pleasure can they possibly get from it? Einstein once said that the definition of insanity was doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. My daughter watches movies over and over again and somehow seems surprised that everything turns out all right in the end. She is only three, but still... she's insane, right?

Just as an aside, she did watch TV shows over and over but usually there were enough episodes in a season to keep it at least a little fresh. Also, as I mentioned above, when a show has a lot of music in it, the TV almost becomes more like a radio.

Unfortunately I find myself watching these same movies over and over again and then my insanity kicks in. No, I don't expect the outcomes to change but I start picking apart the movies, analyzing them and wondering things that are best left un-wondered. Some of you may be understanding exactly what I am saying, others may be scratching their heads wondering what the hell I'm talking about. Well, for the latter, let me show you what I am talking about.

My daughter's current obsession is Tangled (I know it should be Frozen, but hey, kudos to her for not jumping on the band wagon.) For the last month or so she has wanted to watch it in the mornings before going to day care and also when she gets home from daycare. She knows it so well she is quoting scenes, and singing along to most of the songs. I have watched the film over and over as well and I am left with all sorts of questions.

First off, I don't believe that anyone could be stuck in a tower for 18 years and never go outside. Especially when you have a big window overlooking your secret valley. Rapunzel let down her hair so her "mother" could come and go as she pleased yet she never, before her 18th birthday, lowered herself down to step on the ground. I don't care what kind of psychological abuse one uses on their hostage; it seems highly unlikely that someone would not, at some point even step a foot on the ground below the tower. This would slowly turn into a steady exploration of the valley, and then curiosity would take them outside the valley. Nope, not Rapunzel. She just stared out the window and pined.... I say bullshit!

Next, the movie tries to portray Mother Gothel as this evil woman who stole a baby for her own selfish designs (immortality). Yes, she did steal the child from its birth parents, and yes the primary motivation for the act was to keep her fountain of youth, but Rapunzel grew into a fairly intelligent, well-mannered and lovely woman. I feel some of her behavior (and art talent) could be attributed to birth, but a lot of her development must have been taught/learned. The only person to interact with Rapunzel was Mother Gothel. Therefore, there must have been a level of love that Gothel had for Rapunzel. She may have even reached the point where she thought of Rapunzel as her own daughter.

I think it is wrong to assume that there was nothing but selfishness and evilness behind the woman's actions (at least before the events of the movie). There must have been love of a sort between them. "Stockholm Syndrome", I hear you thinking; sure, maybe that would explain Rapunzel's side of it. After all, she did reach out a hand to try and catch her fake mother as she tumbled out of the window to her death. However, this doesn't explain why Rapunzel was not just locked in a room and ignored, except for "magical youth giving" time. Like I said, Mother Gothel must have developed some sort of love for Rapunzel.

Next, there is a series of little things that I noticed and feel the need to mention.

I know Rapunzel never wore shoes, so her feet must have toughened up a bit, but she was walking on stone floors and rugs in the tower. Running outside in a world full of rocks, twigs and other sharp foot-piercing stuff seems a bit far fetched. Yet Rapunzel puts on a huge dance number in the valley.

At one point during the movie, Flynn Rider and Maximus (the palace horse, who happens to be chasing Rider, who made off with the crown of a certain lost princess) fall from a tree into a very deep gorge. The fall is hundreds of feet yet they just land with an ooof! In real life, there would have been two shattered corpses on the valley floor.

In the bar scene, where Flynn and Rapunzel are hiding from a group of guards who are hot on their trail, Maximus enters the search and is practically a bloodhound. The horse sniffs out an entrance to a secret tunnel out of the bar in under 5 minutes. Yet in an earlier scene, Maximus is no more than two feet away from Flynn, who is blocked by a thin wall of vines, but doesn't detect the rogue. This almost annoys me as much as the Ring Wraith in Fellowship of the Ring. The foul beast is two feet from Frodo and can't find, sense or smell the ring. Hey Sauron, maybe these aren't the best candidates for a Ring recovery team! But, I digress...

Later in the film, when a group of the song and dance ruffians arrange a Flynn Rider rescue operation, the piano playing thug places Flynn on the end of a cart. Another one jumps off a second story landing (2 stories! Broken legs anyone?) onto the cart catapulting Flynn a tremendously large distance to land exactly on the back of Maximus. I am not even going to guess the distance both vertically or horizontally but, it is absolutely ridiculous. A Chinese circus act would have to train years to get that to work (including the death or dismemberment of countless acrobats) and these guys pull it off first try. Not friggin' likely.

After watching Tangled as many times as I have, I am also convinced that most of the royal guards are clones. The majority look exactly alike. And I also might add, they shoot as well as Storm/Clone Troopers from the Star Wars movies as well.

Let's jump right to the end, which I have to say was very reminiscent of Beauty and the Beast (hero gets stabbed in the back, villain dies by extreme gravity, and hero brought back from the brink with a tear from their beloved). Flynn, on climbing the tower to save Rapunzel, gets a knife to the back from Mother Gothel. Rapunzel agrees to stay with her fake mother (knowing that she is the lost princess) with no resistance, if Gothel lets her heal Flynn with her magic hair. In an act of supreme sacrifice, Flynn cuts Rapunzel's hair, freeing her from the control of her wicked abductor. All I have to say to this is... how stupid is Flynn Rider? The sacrifice is nice and all, but he could have cut Rapunzel's hair after she healed him. Nope, not Flynn. Maybe deep down inside he realizes he doesn't want to settle down and get married and figures this is the best way out. Probably not, but you never know!

Was I also the only one that thought that if Flynn wants to live forever, all he has to do is be a jerk to her (or marry her, that seems to make a lot of women cry)? Apparently her tears still have the magic healing power, since it was Rapunzel's tear falling on Flynn that healed him. If Flynn could bottle up those tears and force her to sing, he could stay young forever. And he wouldn't even have to use force--she obviously is susceptible to emotional control.... okay, that last bit is getting a bit dark, but it just helps bring home my point.

I have watched this film too many times. If the over-analyzing of the film wasn't enough, the fact that I find the songs popping into my head randomly throughout the week proves it. The sad thing is, is that this is just the beginning. Today it is Tangled, tomorrow it will be something new. A new movie will be placed on repeat. Then my daughter will not just want to watch the movie but she will want the bed sheets and the curtains and the cups and the play set and the dolls and the trading cards and on and on and on. I guess that is just one of the hardships we as parents have to bear, and to be honest, if this is one of the hardest, with all the shitty stuff that can happen to a child in the world today, I say "Let it go, Let it go, Can't hold it back anymore..." (Okay, that was from Frozen, but dammit, that is the movie she should be fixating on!)

On Creativity in the bathroom and passing it on

As one can tell from the title of my blog, I spend a lot of time in the bathroom. That's not to say that I suffer from some sort of lower intestinal problem--it's just that when I have to go number 2, I like to take my time. Being someone who tries to be efficient, I try to make the best use of my bathroom time whenever I am in there. Life is so busy, especially with a 2 year old, that it's not very often that one gets to sit down and have 10-30 minutes of alone time. That is why the bathroom is a logical place to get some shit done, literally and figuratively. (Sorry to work blue... or brown.... I better stop here...)

And let's face it, when you're on the toilet it's your time. People tend to leave you alone when you're in the bathroom (well, except for kids) so you can do whatever you want... within reason. That which brought you in there usually doesn't take up too much of your attention, unless you're having a really rough go of it, so it is truly your own private time. Nice and quiet, sometimes a bit smelly, but very relaxing. Thank God Lay-z-Boy doesn't make a toilet, I'd never leave!

The three "extra" activities I most commonly engage in while on the throne are writing, reading and using my laptop. I do a lot of writing in cheap one subject notebooks and have tons of started projects all over the house. There is almost always a notebook within easy reach as I walk (and sometimes run) to the bathroom. The bathroom is a wonderful place to just get ideas and stories onto paper. Since the trip usually ends with paper, it is good for the sake of continuity.

In terms of reading, there is usually a book at both of our toilets, just in case the need to read comes upon me. If I am actually reading a book--which doesn't happen as much as it used to, being a devout audio book listener--I have been known to take unnecessary bathroom breaks, just to get more reading time. You know a book is good when you take 10 bathroom breaks a day and each time you finish, your butt and legs are numb.

The most recent, and now primary bathrooming activity, would be using the laptop. The computer gives me the ability to do many different activities. Whether it is playing a game, checking my Social Media or writing, the laptop is now something that usually is my bathroom companion. I even have a little table in the downstairs bathroom that I set the computer on so I don't overheat my lap. (If you're perverted and your mind has gone there, feel free to insert an internet porn comment here.)

I mention all of this to make another point. Sometimes, as a parent, I truly forget how much influence we have over our children. They sit and watch everything we do, the good and the bad. How many times, for those parents out there, have you heard your child use a phrase or a word and said to yourself "Where in God's name did he/she hear that?" Then you realize it is a phrase you have used your entire life and just never noticed. Some parents forget that children have ears and despite the other twenty activities they are currently performing, they are listening to every word you say. That's why you should really wait and run down your family to your spouse after the kids are asleep. That's some free advice! It will save you some embarrassing moments at the next family picnic.

In addition to copying language, children also mimic behavior. Why does my daughter pick her nose constantly? (I say this with my finger first knuckle deep in my nose.) We are their role models and what we do--there is a good chance they will do it as well. We all hope our children will pick up the good stuff and not the bad but usually it is mixture of both, especially for children under 5. I don't know if it is a good thing or not, but my daughter has definitely developed my need/love to spend quality time on the toilet.

I posted on my Facebook account a couple of weeks ago how, when my daughter announces she has to go to the bathroom, it turns into a scene from the movie "The Jerk." It's the scene after Steve Martin loses his fortune and is writing checks out to pay people back who bought his glasses thing. After a conversation with his girl, he says that he doesn't need anything and starts grabbing random items from around the house, and saying "except this thing". My daughter does something similar, without the dialogue (and without her pants around her ankles.) She just starts grabbing random toys and items as she works her way to the bathroom. The other day she had a cup, a comb, a doll, a notebook and pen. She'll bring a snack. She'll bring a book. Whatever she was doing before the need to go hits her, comes along with her to the restroom.

She grabs whatever she can and marches to the bathroom, arms full. If she can't carry it all she will ask whoever is accompanying her to lend a hand. Once in the bathroom she piles the stuff on the little table/stand we have set up in there. Then she asks me to snug the table up to the toilet so she can play.

The thing that she does the most on the toilet is draw. I have a bunch of scrap paper that I bring home from work and she grabs a couple of sheets and her crayon container and heads in. She'll be in there so long that the kids seat we have set on it toilet leaves grooves on her butt, yet she doesn't seem to mind. It has been amazing watching her squiggles turn into recognizable things. Granted, she is primarily drawing smiley faces, but still I'm impressed.

I don't know if it is wrong or not, but I feel a little bit of pride every time I walk past the open bathroom door and see her so engaged in whatever she is doing. I feel I have opened up the First Stall of her bathroom creativity and hope someday a masterpiece/great discovery of some sort will arise from her porcelain throne. Maybe my daughter will find the cure for cancer during a particularly slow bowel movement. Perhaps she will write an Oscar-winning screenplay or a Grammy-winning song after a Mexican feast gone wrong. All I know is I would love to hear her on stage some day accepting her Nobel prize/Oscar/Grammy and thanking not only her mom and dad, but also Sir John Harrington, the inventor of the flush toilet.

P.S. Don't be creeped out that I have so many different pictures of my daughter on the toilet. I just happened to have the camera handy and was cracked up by what she was doing.

On Not Being the Father I Want to Be

Warning: This post is not funny. Okay, you have been warned.

I have been divorced now for about three and a half years (separated for about 5) and do not have a good relationship with my ex-wife. Despite the fact that we have three kids together, and we should therefore make more of an effort to get along, we don't. When I say that we don't get along, I don't mean that we are miserable or openly belligerent to each other in front of the kids -- we just don't communicate. My shiny new wife and I never say anything bad about her when the kids are at our house, or within ear shot (let me reiterate the "not-when-the-kids-are-around" part). With some of the things the kids have said during their previous visits, I don't think that policy is in place at my ex's home, but I'm not going to judge.

When I say that we don't communicate, I mean we do not talk -- at all. Unless the kids need something, or there is vital information that needs to be shared, we are completely not communicating. Because we don't talk, this means I don't ever talk to my kids either.

I tried. When we first split up, I called my kids every night, but over the years it has trickled down to nothing. A part of this is my fault and part of this my ex-wife's. Whenever I called the kids, conversations were primarily with my youngest son, who would hog the phone to the point where I barely got to say anything to the other two. I would like to say that the older two were upset about this, but when I asked them about it, my older son said that it wasn't a big deal because he was saving up his conversations for when he came over to visit (and then he would spend the whole weekend on the video game... nice talk, son...)

As time went on I started calling the kids less, but would still try to call two to three times a week. Unfortunately I began having more and more trouble getting through to them. The phone would ring and ring but no one would ever answer. I would leave a message, but no one would ever call back. When I did get a hold of them my ex started putting the phone on speaker phone, which made it even harder to have a conversation with the kids. It was much easier for my youngest to drown out the other two, whereas before, he would just refuse to give the phone to his siblings.

The straw that broke the camel's back was when she dropped the home phone altogether in lieu of a cell phone. Trying to have a cell and a land line is just plain expensive, so I don't begrudge her that decision. It just hasn't made it easier to talk to the kids, especially when the speaker phone seems to be so much worse on the cell. The sound quality isn't even the worst thing about it; surprisingly, it seems to have gotten even more difficult to get a hold of her. Hmmm... Isn't the point of a cell phone to be able to get hold of someone anywhere, at anytime? Getting a hold of my ex has become nearly impossible, and it seems even more difficult on special occasions. Nothing is worse than calling the house at least 5 times throughout the day to wish the kids a happy birthday (or a Merry Christmas, or a Happy Easter, or a...) and not being able to get through.

Once upon a time, my ex was also pretty good at telling me when school events were coming up. If the kids had a concert or some school event that was coming up, she would make sure I knew about it. I remember one year she even made sure that I was able to get tickets to an event. But those days are long gone. Sometimes the kids tell me something is coming up and I get to go. Other times, the first I hear that they had something was when they come to me after the fact and ask why I didn't go. My youngest gave me the heads up for a big Air Band competition that he was going to be in; he told me when and where it was. I was very excited because I had seen his sister perform in the same event a couple of years ago. My wife and youngest daughter went to the event only to find out, after we had stood in line for forty five minutes (at least) to get tickets, that the show sold out a long time before the day of the event (and there were no scalpers to be found). Everyone in line had already had tickets and was just waiting to get in.

This isn't just about school functions either. My ex-wife recently mentioned, off-handedly, about the last time my older daughter was at the ER because she was having seizures. I was a little surprised because she never even told me that my daughter had been rushed to the ER, ever.

I tell you all of this to set up a story. I mentioned it on Facebook, as a status, but will repeat it here in its entirety. A few weeks ago, when I picked up my kids, my ex-wife and I were parked next to each other in an easy conversation distance. The kids had to run in and get changed -- apparently they are not allowed to wear any decent clothes to my house, so they had to go get their crap clothes on. I tried to start a conversation with her, but my heart wasn't in it. It took every inch of courage and strength I had to leave her in the first place, so trying to pretend like she didn't make me miserable for so many years, and have a normal conversation with her is tough. That isn't even mentioning the new stuff she has thrown on the pile. And let's not forget that I am a big chicken and terrified of her for some reason.

I started with some pleasantries, and she followed by telling me that my oldest had his moving ceremony the next Thursday at 7 pm. I was very excited that she actually told me of an upcoming event. The conversation trailed off quickly and we sat there in silence -- well, that is until she decided to call her boyfriend on the phone and started having a loud conversation with him. I really didn't care, but when the kids came back and were saying goodbye, she had to yell across to them the goodbyes from the boyfriend and tell me that he refers to my daughter as his princess. Again, I don't care. I hope she finds someone and is happy like I am. The only thing I do care about, is that whomever she ends up with, they are good to the kids.

I would never feel threatened by someone my ex was with because I am not insecure about how my kids. They know they I love them and I know they love me. I will always be their dad, and that is that. My only concern is that the kids have never actually met this new person. I think my ex mentioned that they have met a couple of times, but her boyfriend lives down south somewhere and this is an internet/telephone relationship. This won't be the first person she's gushed about, to me and the kids, but usually something happens and she never talks about them again. It's fine to have a long distance relationship, but don't drag the kids into it, not until you are closer to the point where you are ready to take the next step.

Don't tell the kids you are going to be getting gifts or travelling to exotic locales to meet with someone until presents arrive or flights have been booked (which she has done to them with previous relationships). My kids recently told me that they were moving and not going to the same school next year. When I mentioned this to my ex, she insisted that the kids had misunderstood her. She loves the school they go to now, and wasn't going to be leaving the school district; she just wants a bigger apartment. I must confess, I am a little suspicious, because moving would mean she would be giving up a subsidized three bedroom apartment. Hmmm...

Well, anyway, back to the story. She actually told me about the Moving Up ceremony. Maybe this was a turning point? Okay, last event of the year, but still... as Dr. Leo Marvin said, "Baby steps." Thursday came and I was getting excited to go. The only negative thing was that my wife was just coming off of a pretty big illness and was still not at 100%. I was trying to convince her to try and make it, but she just didn't feel well enough. I was going to take our 2 year old to see her big brother, but it was going to end past her bedtime and we didn't know how she would handle it. So I jumped into the car and headed to the school. I pulled in, listening to They Might Be Giants and parked. I got there about twenty minutes early, so I could get a decent seat.

I followed the milling crowd to the blue gym, and saw where the ceremony was going to take place. I climbed up the bleachers and found a good spot, toward the back in the third from the top row. I had my camera all juiced up and ready to shoot, and tested the zoom to make sure I could get a good shot of him getting his certificate. Well, time went on and I was scanning the kids as they came in and were standing about chatting. They were gathering around the fold-up chairs that were set up on the basketball court's floor. I looked, and I looked, but I did not see my son anywhere. I thought that maybe he was mixed in with a crowd I could not see. So I waited.

They started with the national anthem and then four or five speeches. They were nice, but something, I'm sorry to say, that you would only bother to sit through because your child was there. The little orchestra played a tune, they had a little dance number, again, nice, but.... Then the speeches were done and the kids got up row by row and formed a line. One by one, they went to the podium, handed the person a tag and their name was read aloud. I started filming to capture everybody, because I did not want to miss my son, not having located him yet. It was about halfway through the kids lining up that I ended up turning the camera off. I could see the kids that were left, and those that had gone already, and finally realized that my son was not here.

To say I was furious is an understatement. Not only did my ex deprive my son of this moment, but to not even have the decency to call and tell me he wasn't going to be there was just plain wrong. I know my son was excited about this; he was telling me that several of my ex's family were going to go as well. So I sat there in the bleachers and watched the end of the ceremony, the whole time just fuming.

The sad thing is, this whole incident just makes me feel like I am a total failure as a father. I should have taken this rage and done something constructive with it. I should have drove to her apartment (which is right across the street from the school) and confronted her. I should have told her that this is bullshit and that things need to change. We don't have to like each other, but we have to be respectful of each other for the kids' sake. I should have thrown in her face the fact that I had to drive to her apartment on Christmas day to wish the kids a merry one because she refused to answer her phone. I should have screamed at her that if ANY of our kids are taken to the hospital, I should be called immediately. But I didn't. In fact, I still haven't even talked to her about it. I don't know why I am so scared of this woman. As much as I hate to admit it, she still has a certain amount of control/power over me that I cannot understand. Just the thought of confronting her makes my chest tighten and sweat appear on my brow (I am experiencing this as I type).

I don't know if I need to go to some sort of therapy to get over this, or what, but I feel I have let my kids down. I haven't fought for my kids, and that is what being a parent is supposed to be about, right? You're supposed to be able to lift a bus off your kid, go to hell and back to protect your children, and I can't even pick up the phone and talk to their mother. This whole experience should inspire me to be a better father and do more for them. I don't think she is abusing the kids in any way (except for alienating them from their father). If I believed they were being abused, of course that would be enough to rouse me out of this condition to do something. My oldest has talked about playing soccer for two years and says each time that his mother didn't hand in the paperwork. I should have confronted her about this. I should have confronted her about a lot of things, but haven't. I keep saying that someday I will get past this, but when? When the kids have graduated? Will I have any sort of relationship with them by that point? I feel that I have let them down, and continue to let them down. I feel to some degree that I have given up on them, and it makes me feel even worse about myself.

Well, this post has been a big old ex-wife bash/pity party and for that I apologize. Sometimes, everybody needs an outlet and today I have spared my wife (well, sort of, since she is my editor and reading this anyway) and burdened you, the reader, with it. I know I am being hard on myself. There are many people out there who know me well, who would say that I am doing a good job with my kids. My wife and I have really gotten control of my youngest son (thanks to months of therapy) and visits are quite enjoyable now. I have a relationship with my kids and I am convinced that it will only get stronger as the years progress. By trying to keep the kids out of my life, my ex is only going to cause a rift in her relationship with them that will grow wider as they get older. No matter what, I am their dad, and they are my kids, and nothing will ever change that.

On Sick Children

I am writing this post after briefly getting caught up on another project, which I will write a mini blog post about immediately after I finish this one up. I missed a couple of posts and have to talk about one of the reasons I missed the first week's post. My daughter came down with a case of Croup and it was very scary, especially since it was my first run-in with this particular virus. All I know was that my daughter started making this horrible sound every time she cried. It was a bark like a seal and scared the hell out of me (and my wife too - I shouldn't leave her out this.)

As disturbing as it was, we did not panic. From everything we have heard and read (and by we, I mean my wife did the reading, and then shared the info with me) in various child development books we suspected that it might be Croup. My wife looked it up online and my daughter had all of the symptoms. The site even had audio clips of various coughs and we got to listen. I wonder if we could select a horrible cough Pandora channel. Technology is an amazing thing!

The Croup cough we listened to on the Internet sounded exactly like what my daughter had. We looked at how to proceed and it said that there was nothing the doctors could do, so we decided to hold off. The website told us what to look for if things were taking a turn for the worse. I know one should not play doctor with you children (and not with adults either, unless it is fun doctor!) but we were very comfortable with our decision. Well, comfortable may be the wrong word, as we ended up having her sleep with us that night and as a result got very little sleep ourselves.

We had done everything the computer said: taking her out in the cold air, and bringing her into a steamy bathroom. It all worked. The cough went away the next day and the next night we had her sleep in her own room. We brought her in to sleep with us for a little bit, but after she repeatedly kicked and punched my wife in the throat in her sleep, we brought her back to her own bed. She started getting better and the cough went away, and we thought she was getting better. Then, she started getting a nasty cold. It sounded like she had a bad chest cold and we started to get concerned.

We decided to take her to the doctor's office to see what the pediatrician thought. The doctor looked her over and said.... everything was fine. This was a normal case of Croup. The cough and the bad cold that followed, were all part of the illness. My daughter did have the start of an ear infection but other than that, she was fine. The doctor gave us a prescription of amoxicillin, just in case the infection got worse and that was that.

I don't know if anyone reading this was waiting for me to come out with something horrible, like she had tuberculosis, pneumonia or one of the million other horrible diseases/illnesses that a child can contract, but she didn't. This has to be one of the hardest parts of being a parent - dealing with a sick child. It's not just dealing with the illness that is the hard thing, but also the constant fear that something terrible is going to happen to your child, or their health.

This fear begins the moment you become a parent. It seems to be more prevalent with new parents, but after having three children with my first wife (though all three were adopted, only the last one being a baby when we got him), I can assure you it never truly goes away. I had a ritual that I always referred to as the Death Check, with my infants. I cannot tell you how many times I looked in on my daughter when she was sleeping and thought she was dead. Babies can be soooo still when they sleep. I would walk up to the crib and scrutinize her chest to see if it was moving or, on a few occasions, nudged her to make sure she was still alive. I would like to say you become more relaxed when you get to the next child but I don't feel there was any real change, except for maybe the frequency of the Death Checks. I wonder if I got up to the Duggar level of children if I would even bother checking. (Well, at that level I would just send one of the other kids to periodically poke the baby.)

Nothing makes you feel more powerless as a parent than when your child is sick, especially when they are still a baby or a young toddler. Really, any child that is unable to tell you what is wrong, is like parental kryptonite. You can see they are in pain or uncomfortable but they can't tell you the source of their discomfort. Without knowing what is wrong, it is hard to figure out how to treat them. But then again, there is not a lot of medicine a child under 2 can take. All you can do is give them some Tylenol, keep them comfortable and if they get a bad fever or you can't get them to stop crying, take them to the hospital. Well, another thing you can do is worry, and that you do aplenty.

Children also become very clingy when they don't feel good. Don't get me wrong, I am not complaining, but it is hard to get things done around the house when you are holding on to a toddler. It warms your heart to know that your child just wants their mom or dad to make them feel better when they don't feel good, but it is really a challenge. You better have a book or the remote handy, because you have that cute little person stuck to you like a barnacle on the hull of a ship. God forbid you should try to put them down. Their little eyes fill with tears and they cry/scream and hold those itsy bitsy hands up to you to pick them up. Some kids even get their little hands opening and closing to make you feel even worse about putting them down in the first place. Though it is necessary at times to put your child down. I have gone to the bathroom holding my child, but it is awkward.

For some reason, most sick children don't like to eat and drink. (I have a little trouble believing that I ever had trouble eating - sick or not - as a child.) This just adds to your worry because you know that your child must eat and drink. The food helps them get better and the drink is crucial, especially when they have a fever. Dehydration is a very big concern, as any doctor will tell you. So you end up giving your child anything that they will eat or drink. You dish out Jello, pudding, freeze pops, yogurt, and junk food of all variety - whatever they will eat or drink. Food that you probably would hesitate to give them when they were well, you will happily cram down their throat just to get them to eat something. The same thing goes with liquids: chocolate milk, any kind of juice, Gatorade, whatever. I have, out of necessity on several occasions, used a medicine shooter to get the baby to drink. As a parent you do what you have to do.

And speaking of medicine shooters, how about medicine?! Giving your child medicine is so much fun. They usually are sooooo willing to receive the pink goo (well actually some kids seem to tolerate it it better than others). I feel like I am some sort of torturer when it is time to give my daughter her medicine. We practically have to restrain her and shoot it in bursts so she doesn't use her tongue to push it out. My daughter has VUR, which to sum up in three words or less means that some of her urine goes the wrong way and back into her kidneys (okay, that was more than three words, but you get the point). She gets a daily preventative antibiotic which she has been receiving since she was first diagnosed (mere days after getting her home from the hospital). Every night, for her entire life she has been getting this medicine, and every night, without fail, it is a fight. I feel like she feels that the fight is part of the process because after she gets the first little bit in her mouth she seems fine. I'm not saying she loves the taste of it, but she doesn't resist after the first shot is in there. Well that was up until about a week ago. Now she has found that she can spit out the medicine and does it every night. Boy I hope she stops this soon. Editor's note: we had the pharmacist add cotton candy flavoring to the new bottle of medicine we picked up yesterday. As gross as cotton candy-flavored medicine sounds to me, our daughter is now taking her medicine without too much of a fight.

Of course I blame daycare for all of her sicknesses (just kidding, but, not really...) That may be a little unfair, but it is just one of those things. Neither my wife nor I want her to go to daycare, but seeming neither of us have super high-paying jobs, it is a necessity. Don't get me wrong, the people at the daycare are wonderful and we love them dearly, but let's face it, any place where children are grouped together is a giant germ factory. Kids are not good at covering their mouths when they cough or sneeze. They do not go around at school using anti-bacterial hand lotion and such. To be fair, most adults aren't that great at stopping the spread of germs either, and I am sure I have brought some home from work with me. But the people at work probably got the germs from their kids, who got them from school or daycare. So yes, it is all daycare/school's fault for all illness in the world.

No matter whose fault it is or the source of the germs, it is never any fun when a child is sick - not only for the child but for the parents too. There is little chance of keeping your child (or yourself) germ-free, unless of course, you want to have a bubble boy or girl or if you are lucky enough to give birth to the child with the never get sick mutation. So eventually every parent will have to deal with a sick child. As tempting as it would be to spike their bottle or cup with benadryl, you have to tough it out, just like the child. But if someone can come up with a portable bubble suit, like in the movie Bubble Boy (starring Jake Gylenhal) let me know how much you want for it. I might be willing to give it a shot. And as a bit of payback, when your children get older, make sure you get your kids to take care of you when you get sick. Really play it up to, so the kids will get a slice of what you went through when they were young. The circle of sickness!

On Siegfried, Roy and Me

The other weekend my daughter got invited to her first non-family birthday party. (She is such a social butterfly for only being a year and a half.) The three of us drove down to the party, which was a fairly long drive, but made even longer because I have not broken down and bought a GPS system yet. My wife looked up the directions on Trip Finder or some site like that and I wrote them down. My wife drove, I navigated, and we were able to find the party without too much trouble. Well there was one little hiccup but I will discuss that a bit later.

I don't know about you, but sometimes, I miss maps. Do you remember maps? They were wonderful.  I never felt  more like a true navigator than when I held an actual map in my hand. You could follow your progress, plan alternate routes and spend a good deal of time trying to fold the damn things. GPS technology is nice, but unless you know how it works (I usually don't take the time to learn all of the special functions of new gadgets I buy. Sad, I know.) you are just basically listening to a voice tell you where and when to turn. The map on the screen is not very large (even if you blow it up) and just not as simple as having one in your hand. And lets not forget my least favorite word to come out of a GPS system: "Recalculating."

The minor problem we ran into on our way to the party was the fact that the directions we looked up must have been based on the shortest distance, not the quickest or easiest way to get to our destination. If I had been paying a little more attention, I would have caught this fact. Unfortunately I discovered it "en route" and it was too late to make any adjustments. The directions said to get off at exit 14 of the NYS Northway and take a right. If I had thought about it, I would have noted that taking a right would bring us through the city of Saratoga, right near the race track, on the last weekend of the horse racing season. Needless to say, we got caught up in some terrible traffic and arrived 10-15 minutes late.

I do like having a GPS system, don't get me wrong. I will be getting one as soon as I accumulate enough money (and have nothing more important to buy) to purchase one. I have used my sister's on several occasions and thought I would share the two things I love the most about using a GPS system. First, there is the fact that you can change the voice that tells you where to go. I have been told where to go several times in my life; it is nice to have control of the voice that tells you. I love to use the female Australian voice for some reason. "G'day mate, take a left in 500 feet, and throw another shrimp on the barbie." Ok, it doesn't say stuff like that, but it would be pretty funny if it did. What if they had bad foreign stereotype voices as a selection? That would be wrong, but funny. A little old Chinese voice would say, "Most honorable driver. Take reft turn in 500 feet." Then a gong sounds or that little classic Chinese ditty they play in movies and TV shows goes off after every direction update.

The other thing I love is the estimated time of arrival. That is like crack to me. I watch that more than the road sometimes. Whatever the time of arrival is when we first set out becomes the time to beat, like a world record in the Olympics. I try to beat the time by as much as possible. When we had the GPS unit with us on a long trip my wife constantly heard me say things like "Shoot, I am 5 minutes behind, I can make that up." or "Okay, were half an hour ahead, let's hit the rest stop and make it quick. I don't want to lose my lead." I start treating rest stops like pit stops in NASCAR, watching the clock, and rushing people along. Pathetic. It may seem ridiculous at times, but it is things like this that help a long trip go by quicker.

But anyway, now that I went off on a long tangent about GPS vs. maps, lets get back to my original topic. We arrived at the party and it took a little bit for my daughter to warm up and get used to all the strange adults and kids. Not that I am saying they were strange, just new to her (and me for that matter, as the party was for the son of my wife's friend that she knew in Seattle). Once she got settled in and comfortable, she turned on the charm and was having a great time. That is when I started to get my Siegfried and Roy on. No, I did not have her mauled by a tiger. (Yes, anyone who knows me saw a tasteless joke like this coming. Well it probably was not tasteless for the tiger, I'm sure Roy was delicious! Okay, I apologize for that one too.) It was time to show off all her tricks.

First we had to pull out my favorite, her Count von Count impression. Yes, she has one! Whenever she sees the count or we set her up with some Count style counting, she will provide her Eeh Eeh Eeh. Then it was on to her Old MacDonald. If you sing Old MacDonald, she will provide the e i e i o. She sings Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. Though most of the time she uses "dada" for all of the words but it almost sounds like she says "up above" at the appropriate part. The ABC song is coming along and she does hit some of the letters at the right time (the rest of the letters are all "da"). She loves to sing, and it is always amazing how well she gets the melodies correct for the songs she sings. She dances and loves to stack things. She uses just about any object as a telephone and answers it with a "Hewwo?" She is adorable. (And I am biased!)

Here is Gabby stacking blocks on the cat.

I ran her through her routine and she did great. I often have trouble getting her to perform in front of other people. When we get stopped by people in the store and they talk to her she gets all shy and won't do anything. Then I feel like an idiot. "Really, she can say Hi and Bye. She even gives a little queen wave." I tell them and of course she does it when they are out of sight. But at the party she had enough time to get comfortable, so she was on fire. People commented how cute she was and how smart she was. I was so proud. The party ended and we headed home. Now that I knew where we were, I took a much easier and direct route home.

After we were home for a while I began to reflect on the party. I had to ask myself a question: Why do we as parents feel the need to show off what our children can do? I am not the only one who does this, as other people have done the same thing to me many times. I do not mean to imply that exhibiting your child's skills is necessarily a negative thing, but what is it in our nature that makes us do it?

It is wonderful to be proud of your child, no matter what their age, and to want others to see how special they are. I sometimes question the motivations for showing off a child's skills to others, however. (This includes my motivations as well.) Children, particularly babies, don't generally care what others think about them; they are more excited by the reaction they get for successfully performing their tricks. Therefore, if you are treating your child like a seal at Seaworld because you love them and want others to see how proud you are of them that they can do something that you think is amazing, then you are doing it for the right reasons.

I don't think this is the motivation for too many parents, however. Some people seem to think that life is a competition and other children and adults are their opponents. It's the reason why we have shows like Toddlers &Tiaras. (I have never watched the show, and never will, because just from the trailers and photos I've seen, I would probably break my TV as I tried to punch the parents through the screen.) Some parents seem to get off on showing how much better their child is than yours and are quick to take all the credit for their child's accomplishments. They are the parents who are telling you how they are prepping their child for Harvard at age 2 because they are soooo brilliant. Thankfully, most of the people I know share my views on the subject.

I am not sitting on the floor with a Count doll three hours a day practicing and pushing her to perfect her impression. I do not have a box of cookies that I am using to teach her to do a Ted Knight laugh. I am not watching the Dog Whisperer and jotting down techniques that Cesar is using, to try on my daughter. I just enjoy watching her develop, learn and experience new things. I love watching her figure things out and discover new talents. Right now she is trying to figure out talking and it is amazing. You know she is trying to say something important, but she looks right at you and a stream of gibberish pours from her mouth.

Though I love the fact that she can do all of these amazing things, (well, amazing to me, because it seems like just yesterday she wasn't even crawling or saying a word), that is as far as it goes. I am not going to say she is the smartest kid ever or start making plans for her to go to Juliard. I will not compare her to other kids and criticize her or others for what they can or cannot do. Though you have to admit, a Count Von Count impression is pretty cool! Can your kid do one? I didn't think so! Gabby 1, Your kid 0! We win, woohooo!

On Opening a Free Clinic

Here is another post that can be filed under the "things my wacky neighborhood kids do" category. This weekend I was sitting in the house (a recurring theme for me) when my youngest son came running into the house. He said, in a rather excited tone "My friend cut himself with his pocket knife and is bleeding really bad."

Let me pause my story to tell you a little bit about my youngest son. Like most kids his age (9), he has a tendency to exaggerate. On top of this, he also tends to be a bit overdramatic. I was trying to think of a specific example, but could not. Therefore I will make up a scenario to illustrate my point. My youngest would come into the house and say "My brother is trying to kill me with an axe!" I would do the research and find that my older son was chopping wood and a piece of wood flew off and landed near the younger. Just to make it clear, I don't own an axe and I would never let my 13 year old chop wood unsupervised.

The other thing I wanted to mention was that my youngest son will classify anyone that he plays with as his friend. I am not saying that he is unable to make friends; it is just hard to believe that the way most of these neighborhood kids interact with him, that "friend" is the proper word (unless there is an "un" on the front and a "ly" on the back.) I love my son, but I will also admit that he is a bit challenging. He likes to be in charge and tell others what to do. This sort of behavior is often frowned upon by other kids, but the children that live around us have no problems ganging up on him and being quite mean sometimes. Yet, my son still always refers to these kids as his "friends".

Back to the story....

So after my son told me about his wounded friend, I did not fly out of my chair to investigate. In fact, as I was casually getting up, I was thinking that this was just going to be some kid with a little nick on his hand. As we were walking toward the front door I started asking him why he was hanging out with a kid who was playing with a knife. Before he could answer we arrived at the door and there was his friend. He seemed to be about 10, maybe 11, and was holding a paper towel to his right hand. The paper towel was soaked in blood and I realized that my son hadn't exaggerated at all.

I rushed the kid into my laundry room/bathroom, leaving a trail of blood spots along the route and started to clean the blood off his hand. As I was cleaning I could see that the cut was between his thumb and pointer finger and didn't appear too bad. I doubted it would need any stitches, but every time he moved his thumb the bleeding would start up again. As I was washing the injured hand, my son's friend told me he felt like he was going to throw up. He didn't hurl but asked if he could sit down. I grabbed the garbage can, put the toilet seat down and had him sit down. Hearing that he was nauseous made me a little nervous so I asked him how much blood he thought he had lost. I didn't phrase it like that, but I can't remember what my exact words were. He said that there was a big puddle (exaggeration?) so again, I start worrying.

I got a gauze pad, pressed it to the cut and taped it to hold it in place. I told my young patient that he had to keep his hand still and to try not to use it. I asked him how far away his house was and he said that he lived on some street that I was unfamiliar with. It was then told me that he, his brother and his sister were staying with his father for the weekend, and it was just a couple of houses down the street. He said that his father was asleep though, so I told him that I would walk him to his house. As we were walking I said that he needed to wake his father up when we got to his house and tell him what happened.

As we headed to his house, the kid seemed to be getting more and more nervous. He told me that his father would be angry with him if he woke him up. I assured him that if I was his father I wouldn't be that upset, especially because he was hurt. He insisted that his father would and I really didn't have much to counter-argue, so I let it go. As we got to the front door he showed me the knife, and next to the knife was a stick the he was debarking. Whittling? Now I could see how the cut happened.

He said that all he wanted to do was go inside and lie down, which was what he was going to do before my son had him come to our house. This was the point where I once again failed as an adult. I completely chickened out and did the the worst thing I could have: let the kid do what he wanted. I certainly did not want the kid's father to be mad at him for waking him up. Who knows what the situation was in the house? I even started having some dark thoughts: What if the father was passed out? What if he would beat the kid for waking him up? All sorts of sordid stories started swirling in my head. The true reason I let the kid go was that I really didn't want to deal with his father. As outgoing as I seem to most people, I am really very shy. Meeting someone under these circumstances was something I did not want to do.

I let the kid go in by himself and told him to lie down for a while. I did not see any big pool of blood so I figured that part of the story must have been an exaggeration. I told him to avoid using his hurt hand as much as possible and to tell his father what happened as soon as he woke up. Then I left, feeling like an ass for not making the kid wake his father right then and there.

That brings up an interesting point, however. How much should one go out of their way to help someone else's child? I know some of you maybe wondering what the hell I am talking about -- you should always help a child in need. Well, yes, in theory you should. This kid showed up at my door with a hand drenched in blood, and of course I was going to get him bandaged up and make sure he was okay. But what if I had bandaged him up and sent him home like I did, and heard on the news the next day that the kid had died? Would I be brought up on charges for not waking the kid's father up? What if the kid ended up getting an infection or something? Could I get in trouble for not cleaning the wound out properly? What if the kid woke up his father and his dad got upset at me for not bringing him directly home? You hear about these inane lawsuits where people sue others for trying to help and not succeeding, and wonder if it would be safer just not to even try. But then would you get sued/arrested for not helping, like in the last episode of Seinfeld? It's a crazy litigious society that we live in, but it all boils down to what is right is right. I will always try to help whenever I can. I am not going to be opening a Free Clinic out of my home anytime soon, but I am well stocked in bandaids so if this happens again, I am ready.

In case anyone is curious, my patient survived. He came back over to the house a couple of hours later, while I was returning my kids to their mother's house. He asked my wife for some more bandages. He also asked her if I was a nurse or doctor or something. She gave him the new bandage and sent him on his way. Why did he start with a nurse? Don't I look like I could be a doctor? Dr John has a nice ring to it! Maybe I should start wearing a stethoscope? I feel a bit like George Clooney! And like most kids, I don't think he ever thanked me! Oh well.

On Getting Those Damn Kids Off My Lawn!

I have to start by saying that I don't think I will ever run out of things to write about as my neighborhood seems to continually provide me with more material.

Wednesday nights at the LeMaire house are gaming nights and this past Wednesday was no exception. We had a full house that evening with my sister and her husband, a friend from work and his girlfriend, and the person that I would consider my best friend (well, the one I do not have sex with). The driveways were full of cars and we were all gathered around the table playing/socializing (sometimes it is hard to differentiate) and having a good time. We had been playing for about an hour when there was a knock on the door, and on my porch was one of the neighborhood rapscallions.
"Can we use your basketball hoop?" he asked me, in a sweet innocent cherubic voice. I responded with a "Yeah, sure." We have a cheap basketball hoop that has a base full of water for weight and wheels on the front so you can easily move it around. I have it set up on the paved driveway and tucked to the side so we can still park. I have let the kids use it in the past, though they don't do it often, less so now that I keep the ball in on the porch. Two balls have disappeared and as W used to say, "Fool me once shame on me, no, wait, fool me twice shame on.... err, never mind." He looked at me and said "Can you help me move it?" It suddenly dawned on me that my sister's car was parked in front of the hoop and they would not be able to use the basketball hoop without damaging her vehicle. I said to the little scamp, "I'm sorry, I can't. You will just have to find something else to do." He said "Okay," and left. I went back to the game.

It cracked me up that he would ask me to help move it, especially when there were people at the house. I wasn't that upset; kids are generally pretty clueless about stuff like this. I think it goes back to that belief most kids have, that they are the centers of the universe. Most children do not seem to have the capacity to take into account other peoples' feelings or concerns. They are focused only on their wants and needs. I am not going to say that this is wrong, or that most children even have control over this, but to coin the phrase, it is what it is. I am not a child behavioral specialist and will never claim to be one (in life or on TV).


I have had some dealings with the neighborhood kids before. One time this girl knocked on my door and asked if I would come out and use my ladder to get a toy off of somebody's roof. When I said no, she asked if they could borrow the ladder. She gave me such a dirty look and huffed away when I said no. I almost laughed out loud. This kid was absolutely clueless. Did she really expect me to let a band of kids all under the age of twelve run around the neighborhood with a ten foot ladder? (Well maybe I would have let them if I could follow them around with a video camera.)

The kids on my block seem not to be aware of yard boundaries or the meaning of private property. I will be in the kitchen and see kids running through our back yard, even though there is a fence on one side. In fact, there always seems to be kids running around our house and through our yard. One day my wife noticed there were kids hiding behind our cars. Apparently they were playing hide and seek and our yard was in-bounds. We are also constantly confronted with kid droppings. Well, what I mean by this is that there are always toys lying on our side of the fence, which I end up tossing back over when I am leaving for work in the morning. Also there are wrappers and bottles and other garbage that ends up in our yard. My wife and I do not eat a lot of freezer pops or drink from those cheap juice boxes that have the tin foil lids. We even found some garbage stuffed in our mailbox one day. While I am mentioning mailboxes, for some reason, someone keeps leaving the door open to our mailbox, which I find increasingly annoying. These kids are getting me to the point where I just want to yell, "Hey you kids, get the hell out of my yard!" I am turning into the old curmudgeon on the block.

I grew up in a house in the woods with no immediate neighbors, and have not really lived in "the city" (well, it is a city considering my hometown of origin had more cows than people) and have to ask, is this normal child behavior? If I grew up in a more highly populated area, would I have acted the same way? Would I have felt that it would be all right to go wherever I wanted, no matters whose property it was? I even had to start locking my garage because I let the kid next door play ping pong with me and my kids once, and next thing I knew, he was letting himself and his friends in whenever he wanted. Well, until all of the balls disappeared, then they stopped going in. What would have happened if I had an endless supply of ping pong balls like Captain Kangaroo?

I guess all I am saying is that I believe wholeheartedly that my parents would have kicked my ass if I did anything like that. I would have been required to ask the owners of the house if it was okay to use their stuff or to cut across their property. I am not saying I would have been required to ask permission to walk through someone's yard, but if I was going to play games in their yard or use their stuff, I would have been required to knock on the door and ask. It is called being respectful, and is something my parents drilled into me at an early age. I was taught not to ask for things and if offered something like cookies or a delicious beverage, I should either politely refuse or just take one. I'm not saying I was perfect, or that I expect this sort of behavior from all kids, but at least a little effort would be appreciated.

To be honest with myself, I probably did a lot of the same things these kids do but I think the older you get the more delusional you get about your childhood. Times were better, all children listened to their parents, they respected their elders, worked harder and were more responsible. We live in a completely different age and things have changed a lot over the years, but I think kids stay pretty much the same. I think it is us parents that have changed. I know I am having a lot of issues with my kids, especially since I only see them two weekends a month, and I see them doing a lot of things that I am complaining about the neighborhood kids doing.

This is my fault (well, to be fair, let's not leave my ex out of this). I have not even come close to teaching them what my parents taught me. I am working on it, and they are coming around slowly, but it is hard. Society seems to reinforce that kids are entitled to everything which doesn't make it any easier. (It may be a broad generalization, but this is just my feeling and not supported by any facts that I know of.)

I think it would help if I knew the neighborhood kids' parents, but I have been here about two years and have only talked to my one neighbor (the one whose child runs amuck) about twice. I don't even know their names. Maybe if I explained what their child was doing that I objected to, they would talk to their child and try to improve his behavior. Or, they may just tell me to go f___ myself.

I guess I will try to accept that these children are just being children and that I would have done the same kind of things when I was younger (well, some of the things), and try to only concern myself when they really get out of line. Maybe I will try to get to know their parents better and maybe bring up some of my concerns subtly when I do. But until then I will keep my eyes open, keep the garage locked and whenever they are doing something that I consider "crossing the line," I will get my wife to go out and yell at them. Hey, I don't want to be the old cranky guy that yells at the neighborhood kids!