How Baby Blogs Die

Wow. So I went on a bike ride one Tuesday instead of updating and here we are, 2 months later with no posts. I did notice a while back that various parenting blogs on the net usually do seem to die out around this point in the kid's life.

And now I think I'm starting to understand why.

Reason 1: Kid changes

Also, the kid and me were a bit
sick for a week or so...

Cleo has gotten a lot more mobile. She does her bear walk crawl everywhere, hoists herself up in to standing position, and has been experimenting with what she can do as a biped. It won't be long now until she's officially a toddler. Oddly, this is LESS exhausting than it was before. Her independence means she doesn't constantly have to be entertained and that she doesn't get frustrated when she gets into odd positions.

What it does requires, though, is more attention. Every few minutes a glance at the kiddo is required just to make sure she isn't trying to eat a paperclip that fell off the table or that she hasn't gotten hold of something easily destroyed. For example, the other day, she put the iMote for our Apple TV into a half full bottle of water. She was very proud of herself and VERY frustrated when dad didn't appreciate this and was rushing around trying to find rice and a ziplock bag in order to have half a hope of salvaging the device. (Note: The iMote did dry off and is working.)

This means less large blocks of time where I can sit down and focus and more small blocks of time. It's tough to adapt to. Add in:

Reason 2: Life Changes

The stable situation of me having every Tuesday off is in the past. For the last 2 months I have, more often than not, had to work Tuesday. Things like Cleo's upcoming birthday, Thanksgiving, X-Mas, etc, mean I have to ration out my leave time. That means less 3 day spans of time for dad and kiddo. Truthfully, Cleo is much lower maintenance now than she was 6 months ago and doesn't require constant parental attention. When left with her grandmother for less than 4 hours at a time, I doubt she even really realizes we've gone!

Still, this means, once again, less solid blocks of time for dad where I would normally have the time to leisurely access my muse. Leading to:

Reason 3: Dad has to Change!

A friend of mine with kids once told me that the moment you get things figured out, it all changes. Now I'm starting to understand HOW this happens. My life has changed from one of exhausting but dependable daily slogs to a fragmented existence. Learning how to write during these fragments is HARD!

For example, I recently learned that after our morning shower, I have about 20-30 minutes to write. She has been entertained in the morning, fed, changed, cleaned, and is now relaxed and able to relax and play by herself during this time. I have to pull up a zafu to a stepstool in her room and write right then! No checking e-mail or reddit, start right in! NOW! DO IT!

(Repeat for whatever other fragments of time I'm able to identify during the day.)

Anyhow, if I had to say why some of those blogs die off, it's probably this challenge to change your habits that causes things to stall. Doing this is wildly uncomfortable and takes practice, but, as I hope this blog post proves, I'm at least STARTING to get better at it.  I really want to keep this blog going, though, so I hopefully I keep adapting!

Delayed

Hiya all. I was going to work on my post today, but H got the afternoon off! We rode bikes with Cleo and went and saw a movie. I'll try to get the post up tomorrow!

Talkin Bout my Chariot

So a while back, H asked me about bike trailers. This is what I sent her:

So I did some research on bike trailers. The Burley trailers are considered fine for light use. Once Cleo is old enough to go in a trailer, though, I'm thinking the bike will be my primary mode of transport with her. So I'm not looking for a Sunday bike ride trailer, I'm looking for a car substitute.

Enter... The Chariot.

Has storage space in back. All weather. Shocks and a hammock style seat for child comfort. Converts quickly and easily to a stroller and back for outings and shopping. Should be able to haul her around for a few years in it until she's old enough for a tag-along. She and I will fear no rain in it. Expensive, but this will free us up from having to depend on the car!

I was expecting to get it for my birthday in the fall, but H was able to get it on sale recently to allow us to enjoy the summer!

Don't get me wrong, the Yepp is still preferred for sunny bike rides, but our Chariot isn't about that. It allows dad to capture a bit of his former life when I lived primarily by bike. There have been many times in the last 9 months where I have been immensely frustrated with having to pack up the kid into the car for minor trips out.

Non-approved baby positioning

Now, that's a thing of the past.

We tried it out a few times on fun rides and set things up so H's bike hitches up to it as well. For me, though, the real test came last week.

You see, Cleo sometimes enjoys hummus on pita in the mornings. One day a few weeks ago, I gave her some hummus for breakfast that I had bought at our local store. Then, as is our tradition, I took the slimy post-breakfast baby upstairs for a shower.

While getting cleaned up, though, her skin became super red on her face and chest, causing a dad freakout!

A superposition of two states

I called the advice nurse but, thankfully, the kid wasn't troubled and was mostly bewildered as to why her shower was cut short. The blotches were actually fading even as I waited. The nurse first reassured me it was not the dreaded allergic reaction. She told me that different types of hummus have different concentrations of lemon juice and other irritants in them and that, combined with hot water and soap, irritated Cleo's skin significantly.

Fast forward to last week. Cleo is out of hummus for tomorrow and I now only trust Trader Joe's Organinc Hummus. It's raining outside. I could pack her in the car... but all we really need is hummus. My eyes turn to the Chariot.

Let's do this!

Wave function collapsed...
And the kid is nice and dry

I'm leaning that the biggest downside of a baby trailer is the fact that you have no idea what's going on in there. On a sunny day you can leave it open enough to look back and see how the kid is doing. When you close the rain flap? Cleo suddenly turns into Schrodinger's cat. The only thing keeping me from hopping off of my bike at every intersection to check on her is Cleo's humming or occasional laugh.

Actually, one time I did hop off because I hadn't heard her make any noise for a time and it was raining a bit fierce. Cleo was happy as a clam and looked up at me with this casual "Oh, hi there!" expression on her face.

Anyhow, the trip went well, the baby stayed dry, and we got a few things more than hummus, all fitting in the Chariot easily. Successful trip? BIG YES!

In fact, the only real problem I have with the Chariot is that I get that Phineas and Ferb song stuck in my head every single time I load the thing up; often I end up singing it to Cleo. Enjoy.

Morning People

Cleo likes to sleep in. For a while, I honestly believed this was a good thing. I LOVE to sleep in and I was feeling pretty blessed that my progeny shared in this. On my days off, the kid and I would blurrily blink ourselves awake around 10 or so and officially start our day around 11.

My view during down dog...

Slowly, though, we realized that this carried with it a frightful consequence: Late night baby. H and I struggled for some time with a little girl that would not sleep at night without making the connection. I mean, it seems obvious, but for a long time we missed it that if she is sleeping in until 10, why wouldn't she be up until 1or 2 am that night?

Sadly for dad, once we did make the connection, we had to end the sleep-ins. Alarms were set for 8 am with a special sleep in time of 8:30 am. The kid's been pretty unaffected by getting up earlier and actually does seem to thrive. Dad, on the other hand, has to sigh and, while entertaining the fantasy of building a pillow barricade around the kid to prevent her from toppling over the edge while I sneak in an extra hour of sleep, force himself to get up.

I've combated this by creating a routine. For about 1/2 an hour after waking, the kid climbs and rolls around on the "dad-nasium" and generally has a good time while dad tries to secretly check his email on his phone without the kid becoming interested in stealing the phone from dad. We then go to Cleo's room where she's free to crawl around, make noise, bang on stuff, do her feral growling (I feel at times like my child is part velociraptor...) and generally just entertain herself while dad does some yoga, which includes her rolling under dad and laughing while he is in Down Dog.

Then it's down to the dining room for breakfast for the kid with coffee for dad. After that, upstairs for a shower to clean up the thick coat of food the child has smeared on herself. Then it's back down to the main room where the kid is placed in the Pack and Play so dad can clean up the carnage from an enthusiastic baby breakfast. After that, it's milk time, then nap.

This usually takes us to around noon. I have to say, I've become a big fan of this routine. I'm not sure how Cleo feels about it as her mother is a lot less rigid than I am and their days together are much more free form. For the most part, though, Cleo does seems to do well with this.

What has suffered, though, is our ability to make events. For example, a brief look at PDX Kids Calendar from last Wednesday shows 16 kids events occurring in the morning between 9 am and 11, with only 6 happening in the afternoon... really only 4 if you don't count mommy matinees.


This puts me in a conundrum. Do I keep to the morning routine I've grown to love and that really helps bring peace of mind to me and reliable structure for Cleo? Or do I pack us up without our morning ritual in order to make sure my little girl continues to have a variety of experiences (even if she doesn't really comprehend most of them...)?

Yes, I know the answer is compromise, but I just hate having to break away from something that is working well. I'm hopeful that the new bike trailer (more on that in my next update!) will help with me feeling a bit more enthusiastic about getting the kid out and about in the AM. I'll keep you posted!

Independent yoga time

Bike Solo

So I had a great thing lined up for my blog post. H, Cleo, H's mom, and I met a friend and her family at an outdoor showing of the Princess Bride at one of the parks in Portland.

Sounds pretty cool, huh?

Unfortunately, no matter how cool the event is, if I forget to take pictures it makes for a dull blog post. In our defense, it got dark really quick, you can't exactly take pictures during the movie, and H and I spent most of the movie walking around in the back of the park trying to calm a fussy Cleo.

Luckily, Cleo and I did a few things that week, one of which is that she and I took our first bike trip out in the community without H as my wing(wo)man. Let me first convey how terrifying this is. I had never loaded up Cleo on my bike without help, had never carried a backpack stuffed to the brim with picnic stuff while doing this, and I was still unsure how well Cleo likes the bike, though signs were good so far.

I'm also super paranoid with Cleo on the front. I trust no one. I glare at people in cars as if they are secretly plotting against us. This, understandably, makes for a tense bike ride.


It was a beautiful day, though, and I couldn't let my neurotic tendencies stand in the way of a fun outing.

So we loaded up and headed out. Cleo giggled the whole way and made funny sounds and we got there without incident.

Another good thing is that you can count on Portland to be entertaining. We got there and there was some sort of... cajun band I suppose?.. that were practicing. Then some lady pulls up on a bike near us and just sets up a hammock between two trees... but it wasn't a normal net hammock. It was nylon or something and she didn't so much as recline into it as she disapeared into it. Like it... enveloped her... cattepillar style while she read her book. It did not look comfortable. Then after the cajun band finished, a lady with a snare drum and an eyepatch showed up and met a friend with a ukulele and they practiced songs.

I think she's ready to go home...

This is the type of stuff that Cleo will grow up thinking is normal. Which is kind of odd yet cool.

On the way back, I faced a new dilemma: sleepy kid. Sure, we got a lot of "OMG! She's passed out! How cute!" comments, but since I was dealing with the logistics, of this, I didn't get to enjoy it much. You see, in the Yepp, the kid kind of slumps forward and will wobble around like well cooked asparagus unless supported. Sure, you can buy some Ikea type pillow for it called the Schlep or something, but it's $40 and we haven't encountered this problem enough to rationalize that. So for now it's kind of an elbows-in biking style I use where I support her head with my elbows while holding onto the handlebars.

Still, we got home, kid transitioned to the swing and finished her nap no problem, and I got that feeling of accomplishment I get when I've done something just a little bit daring for her.

Finally, Movies!

So I said I wasn't going to do any more mommy matinee posts for Tuesdays with Cleo, but I can't really pass up talking about the recent ones I've seen.

Due to the kiddo, I feel like I'm living in a distant country where movies get released much later for me. All of these "summer blockbusters" have been out since early summer, but I see them anywhere from 2-3 months after they've been released when they come to Mommy Matinee. So it's only been recently that I've FINALLY gotten to see the movies I've been wanting to see since about May. And it's been really, really interesting to contrast and compare.

Let me first state that Cleo and I have this mommy matinee thing down. We get there early and get situated. I pack solids (berries, apple slices, etc) for her to eat during the previews and order my food. She watches the screen a bit and plays for about the first half hour, then gets fussy. Then I heat up some milk, put her in the Ergo, strap the Ergo on, and pace around in the back of the theater and bottle feed her for a while. After about a half hour of this, she's passed out and I return to my seat to watch the last hour or so of the movie while she naps. I'm actually really surprised at how well this has worked, and I miss out on very little of the movie!

So the most recent one we saw was the Superman reboot "The Man of Steel", but I think I need to explain the other movies we've seen in recent weeks to get my impression of it, so we'll start with "Iron Man 3".

I saw it a few weeks ago and it was definitely a "comic book movie". There are elements of the ridiculous meshed in with the action and despite some tense scenes the end game is "fun". I guess it pissed off some fans due to how they portrayed The Mandarin, but I thought it was nice since they were already handling the Extremis story line. As we saw in "Spider Man 3", cramming in too many iconic bad guys actually leads to less fulfillment.

Next was "Star Trek: Into Darkness". This was really, really fun to the point that you don't even really notice the gigantic plot holes. As a reboot, it also includes a lot of "wink and a nod" moments for true fans, such as Bones saying his "Damnit Jim! I'm a doctor not a (insert occupation here)." It has some complex messages, but it doesn't beat you over the head with them.

Now we get to "Man of Steel". I was really excited about this one, to the point that I dressed up Cleo in Supergirl gear. However, it was kind of flat. I can see what they were trying to do. It's as if the were picturing a universe where comic books don't exist and what a Superman movie would be if it were just straight up Sci-Fi about an alien refugee raised on Earth. With lots of wanton destruction.

By getting rid of the fun, comic book element of Iron Man and the "wink and a nod" element of a reboot like Star Trek, it felt unrecognizable. This wasn't really a "Superman" movie. He doesn't stop bank robberies, save people from muggings, or catch people falling off of buildings. He came in and beat the crap out of a bunch of other Kryptonians. Maybe this guy on screen will be Superman someday, but right now, he's not. I can't fault their desire to be original, but it ended up feeling tedious.

Anyhow, here's a much more entertaining video of Cleo playing in her Jumparoo in her Supergirl cape.

Boldly Go

So this last week was the final week of my mom's visit which has been very bittersweet for me. I hate to see her go, but it's been nice having her around to hang out with Cleo, to see the two of them bond, and for me to enjoy the air conditioning in the RV! I feel confident saying the visit was a success and we're all looking forward to a much longer visit next summer!

To take some of the gloom out of her leaving, we decided to end on a high note by seeing Trek in the Park, which was Cleo's first and, sadly, last experience with this as this is the last year of the event. I'm pretty bummed about it, but I understand. Atomic Arts started it five years ago as a quirky event, it then grew to be a "Portland Thing" complete with a parody of it on Portlandia, and now it's become an institution. My step-father phrased it best when he pointed out that voluntarily pouring your time and effort into a project you are passionate about is one thing, being obligated to do it is an entirely different experience.

Since I worked that morning, I had to relinquish organizational control of the gathering to entirely to H, which was really hard for me. We're talking my mom, step-dad, two dogs, a baby, H, H's mom, and me showing up later. You have to get there 3-4 hours early, so she would need to bring food for all of us, the dogs, and the kiddo. Plus it's Portland so you have to prepare for both sun AND rain.

With the exception of H's mom who wasn't able to make it due to some bad luck, H pulled things together and it went off really, really well. Atomic Arts did "The Trouble with Tribbles" this year and it has felt like half of Portland has been making tribbles for the past few months to help them with this. The production was fun and the guy who plays Scotty stole the show (just as James Doohan does in the original broadcast) and to my personal delight they included the part where Kirk continues to get pelted by tribbles as he is stranded under a pile of them.

My favorite part of the live version though? Not even on stage. It happened when, 10 minutes into the show, it started raining. The show didn't miss a beat and neither did the audience, and my step-dad said in surprise when looking at the crowd, "Wow! No one's even moving to get out of the rain!" Portland. As. Hell!

Most importantly, the parents liked it. Making people wait for four hours in the sun on a blanket with a baby and dogs and then having to watch a show in the rain sets the bar pretty high, but thankfully, I feel like it met the expectations! Thanks for the good times Atomic Arts! Live long and prosper!

Ain't no tribble at all!

I want to ride my bicycle, I want to ride my bike.

About twelve years ago, I started bicycling as my primary form of transportation. In truth, this originally came about as a way to stay quit from smoking. I figured the opposite of spending money on ruining my lungs was to save money by salvaging my cardiovascular system.

When I started biking, it was a torturous, wheezing affair. Honestly, I'm surprised I didn't have a stroke! As weeks went on, I got better and better. Knowing that starting smoking again would negate any and all progress I had made kept my resolve strong and little by little, I became a bicycler instead of a smoker.

One side effect of this is that I'm not a fan of driving, which is what happens to many bicyclists. Simple errands that CAN be done by bike slowly start to feel like they SHOULD be done by biking until you begin to see using the car as a sign of failure.

As such, having a kid has been tough. We live in a society where rocketing around at 70 mph in a primarily fiberglass and plastic cage is widely considered safe for a child, however, there are no such assurances extended to bicycling. Bicycle product manufacturers won't clear a product for an age group unless they are almost certain they won't get sued, with most bike seats and carts coming with instructions to not use them until 1 year. In fact, in Michigan, children aren't even allowed to BE on a bike until 1 year.

Which is strange since there are many families in Denmark and Holland that don't even have cars and are two wheeling their babies around from day one.

So which is it?

Unfortunately, there really isn't a consensus  as this great Bike Portland article points out.

Test Run

It's really hard to find good info on this. It seems like opinions from Europe = the American recommendation + 3 months. I've personally come to the conclusion it seems that while 12 months is pretty much guaranteed for ALL to be safe, sometime around 9 months is where it's GENERALLY okay, depending on the kid's neck strength (and Cleo has had exceptional neck strength from day 1). Top that off with me finding the Mini Yepp that, unlike everything else we have encountered, actually clears kids of 9 months to be able to use it and I finally found a rational to get this kid on two wheels!

While the Yepp wouldn't fit on my commuter bike, it did fit on my mountain bike. This was a blessing in disguise since the super fat tires, knobby tread, and lower gearing meant I wouldn't outrun H on a ride (who does not bike nearly as much as I do) and the shocks would provide a much smoother ride for the kiddo. Yes, this meant doing things like putting a kickstand on it which is tantamount to installing seat warmers on a dune buggy, but for my girl, I was willing.

We did a small test ride on Thursday and the kiddo seemed to enjoy the ride even if she hated her comically large helmet. Seriously, the moment you unbuckle that thing she overhand throws it with both hands as far away from her as possible. Her helmet contempt is regrettable, but at least her form for soccer throw-ins is being developed. And while the carrier negatively affects my pedaling form a bit, it's really only for short rides anyhow. 

Then on Sunday we did our first family bike outing in a ride to the food carts nearby, a little over 1 1/2 miles there and the same distance back. I was really freaking nervous! Last time my palms had been so sweaty was the time I had to give a best man speech at my buddy Mike's wedding! But ultimately...

IT WAS GLORIOUS!

The kid laughed on the ride there and made fun noises while I sang songs to her. She would grin at her mom when she would pull up along side us. We had a fun outdoor breakfast and then cruised back. All in all, a great time was had by all and I'm looking forward to squeezing in some more bike rides before the sun goes into hiding for the winter!

Parklife

Back in the early 90's, a girl introduced me to Britpop and namely to Blur. Wanting to seem cool and knowledgeable, I bought the CD's, listened to them, and even enjoyed some of them like "Boys and Girls". Some I really didn't understand. Take Parklife.

The meat of it is Blur singing about some guy hanging out at the park. Now, these days you can look it up on the internet and find information on how Blur was satirizing some sort of class situation in London, but to a teenager in the pre-internet mid nineties growing up in a small eastern Washington town, I really had no frame of reference. I had a friend who lived in an RV Park and I honestly thought that's what parklife was.

Which brings us to why I was singing this song to Cleo as we drove to visit my mom recently.

As you may or may not remember, my mom and stepdad bought an RV recently. Since my mom is a teacher, this has given her the opportunity to hang out close to us for a month this summer. My mom gets to see Cleo, Cleo gets to see her grandma, and I get to enjoy air conditioning. It's really a win, win, win situation.

About the only losers are my mom's dogs who are, at heart, country dogs that are used to having an acre to run around on. An RV park cramps their style and taking them to a dog park is overwhelming for them. Well, one of them adapts well, but the other is prone to anxiety. There is normally nothing more he likes than a good game of catch, but with cars racing around and a billion other scents at the dog park, he kind of implodes a bit like Dustin Hoffman in "Rain Man" and stares blankly  into space when you throw the ball.

Still, it's overall a great experience. If the weather holds, Cleo and I might even brave the pool next week!

Signs

First off, sorry about the lack of an update last week! I took on some more shifts at work, my mom had just got into town for a four week stay, and I had to have my Tuesday adventure with Cleo in the morning and then go straight to work once we got back from it!

Every day, Cleo seems more like a little girl and less like a baby. I suppose that, technically, that IS what is happening, but it's more like it's becoming more obvious. She claps her hands, she reacts to facial expressions and little games, and is able to make connections between things. The other day, she started crying when I put on my bicycle helmet since she has figured out that helmet = dad leaving for work.

So with her forming these complex connections, I decided to sign us up for a Baby Sign class. Of course, I'm cheap, so I located  a free one out at the Beaverton Library and... well you get what you pay for. The class was really disjointed and chaotic and the teacher of it, while enthusiastic, was more interested in singing songs and being quirky rather than actually making sure parents were learning the signs to the songs.

It did increase my enthusiasm for trying baby sign, though. I've been doing some for a while, but I'm trying to be more consistent about it. And you know what? I think she understands some of  the signs. She grins like a maniac when I do the sign for milk or food. She just doesn't get the concept of a back and forth signing exchange yet. The subtext of our mealtime conversation goes something like this:

Gimme!

Me: Milk?
Cleo: Sure!
Me: Cleo want milk?
C: Uh... yeah. I smiled at you. That means yes. Duuuhh.
Me: Cleo hungry?
C: Look mister, are you gonna give me the milk or not?
Me: Cleo want eat?
C: *sigh* I'm gonna go back to playing with my feet. Don't interrupt me unless you're actually serious about giving me food.
Me: Cleo not hungry?
C: *Ignores dad*

I'm thinking we'll probably skip the other classes for now and just focus on mastering what we've got so far since, as you can tell, I already feel that the kiddo has mastered nonverbal expression of indifference.

Art Time

I'm really pleased to say I finally got this one crossed off of our list! Portland Art Museum has, once per month, Baby Hour where you get to go around the museum with a docent who explains things and no one can complain about your fussy little one. However, compared to a lot of the stuff  we do (free) it ain't cheap ($15) so I wanted to have a reason to go there.

Enter Cyclopedia. It's an exhibit featuring all sorts of crazy bike designs. My favorite: A bicycle from Finland with a studded back tire and a skate in place of the front tire. It never caught on due to numerous injury lawsuits, but who hasn't dreamed up something like that? I'm pretty sure I've seen something like that in a Dr. Seuss book, but there it is in metal and rubber reality hanging right in front of you when you go!

However, while our ticket would allow us to go to Cyclopedia, we had to first experience the more traditional art of Gaston Lachaise. Let me just say that Portland really let me down on this one after dissing on Beaverton last week! About 30 adults went on the tour, all female. In my group of about 15 adults and 15 babies, the only Y chromosomes there were me and one baby boy. What's disappointing is there actually was one other dad there at the beginning when we all were at the entrance, but he buggered off somewhere before the tour even started leaving the kid with the grandmother!

Anyhow, Gaston Lachaise. Like many artists, he was a very weird man who died before he experienced any real success.  He graduated art school, became obsessed with a slightly dumpy shaped American woman who was 10 years older than him that he labelled his muse, married her, and almost exclusively sculpted just her. This by itself was pretty cool because she was an authentic female form rather than a female "model". Sure, he made her more powerful in the sculptures, but he didn't slim her down in order to achieve this.

From a psychological point of view, though, he is fascinating. A lot of his sculptures of he and his wife together have poorly defined lines between them (eg: when they kiss, their faces become one), when he was apart from her he sculpted her constantly, and towards the end of his life he got really weird and only sculpted body parts of her (seriously, there's some weird ones featuring just her breasts and vagina only). From my point of view it screams of a man who has lost his own sense of self, defined himself through her, and struggled with this as he got older and realized that other people cannot be the container for your sense of self without losing your sense of them.

After the tour, we hung out in the discovery room and let the babies play. It's always interesting to see the developmental variance! One kid only a few weeks older than Cleo was crawling around while a kid months older was smaller and struggling to sit. These things will all smooth out over the next few years but it's so interesting seeing how each kid has a peak and a valley in terms of development. And yet, some things remain consistent as my little girl continued to be the observer of things. As every child made a mad grab for the toys, she was initially content to watch and figure things out for some time before entering the fray herself.

Afterwards, dad finally got to see the bicycles for a bit before the overstimulated baby was taken home. I'm still not sure what Cleo actually thought of the whole experience, but if nothing else, we both earned our nap that day!

Juggler

(Life has settled down a bit so it's refreshing to just be doing a regular Tuesdays with Cleo post!)

I'm really, really loving seven months. I think this has been my favorite age so far. She's more interactive and more aware of the world now and playing with her is actually an involved experience! Before this, playing was more or less "Dad does something and I stare blankly or maybe smile a bit". Now it's actually something where I feel like there's give and take in the activities. 

So as I've mentioned before, Cleo likes it when I juggle, which has prompted me to juggle more. My control is very rusty to say the least, but so far my skill is good enough still to have prevented any injuries to my little girl. One day an errant club will bounce off of a couch cushion and be pulled by mystical forces straight at her head and on that day we will see if she can maintain this love of juggling. Til then, we're both enjoying things.

Based on this juggling love, I thought it would be nice to take Cleo to a show. There was a juggler named Curtis Carlyle performing at the Beaverton Library and I thought this would be perfect! I'm glad we did because I learned a lot of things from this experience.

1) The suburbs are a much, much different place! The place was completely freaking crowded. I hate crowds so much and almost turned around. Additionally, I joke about other dads being a rare commodity at events, but in Portland proper, I'm usually not completely alone. There is often another dad or two around, even if they are out with their family and not solo. Not here. You're on your own in soccer mom territory. I'm surprised I wasn't boxed in by minivans and SUV's gangland Chicago style when I tried to leave and told not to come back.

2) No one in Beaverton takes their babies to this stuff. The crowd had a lot of kids from toddlers on up to what looked like 3rd or 4th graders. There were babies there, but they were in carry-on baggage mode so that mom could pry her older kids from their video games and enjoy something real. This is a shame, because I plan on taking Cleo to more stuff out in Beaverton and I don't like feeling the odd man out. True, Cleo was often more preoccupied with the crowd than with the actual performer, but it's nice to get her out and experiencing stuff.

3) I had met the juggler before! I actually did not realize this until I got home and looked up the guy and saw some sans mustache pictures of him. Ten years ago when I got bored with my limited three ball juggling knowledge and decided to try leveling up my juggling skills, I started going to the juggling club at Reed College. At Reed, juggling is a PE credit, but they open things up to the public all year and during the summer they all juggle on the lawn. It's nice, although if you are not a part of the community it can all be a bit daunting.

Anyhow, my first time there I didn't have a clue what to do, and Curtis lent me some of his clubs to use. I hadn't ever juggled clubs  before this and I dropped them so many times that I damaged one of them (the foam on the top of it broke off). I was mortified and apologized profusely, but he pulled out another club and as he gave it to me he said, "It happens. Just keep throwing!" Such a wonderful gesture that quite possibly kept me from running away from juggling completely. I'm glad I finally got to see him perform!

Week Off

Sorry for the late update. H and Cleo were gone for about four days to see family for my niece's birthday which gave me lots of free time... that resulted in me wasting said free time. You would think that more time would result in MORE productivity. The truth is that if you cut loose a jet engine from a plane in flight, it may be free but the lack of direction benefits no one. Dishes piled up in the sink! That's crazy considering I'm using 1/3 of the amount of dishes!

You had a life before me?!? Who allowed this?

Delving back into bachelorhood really made me realize how much I have changed. Before Cleo and, to a lesser extent H, were in my life, I had time to burn. Work accounts for approximately 1/4 of your time during the week and sleep another 1/4, throw in commuting, and a single person has 80 hours of free time a week to just do whatever! These days I'm lucky to get 10 hours a week of just free time, and frankly, some of these are actually stolen from sleep time. What happens, though, is that you make the most of it. A parent is a lifehacked, super efficient, frugal time user and you get stuff done!

Sucker!

I was trying to explain my behavior this weekend to a friend about how it's like one of those people who wins the lottery and squanders it all, except substitute time in place of money. A person living in poverty rarely lives prudently and simply like Warren Buffet when they suddenly encounter a fortune. What's more likely to happen is that they fly all of their friends to Vegas, rent out the top floor of the Bellagio, and wake up a month later with all of the money gone and actually owing a couple hundred thousand.

I did the bachelor dad equivalent of this by eating lots of takeout food and pizza rolls, leaving all the dishes and boxes scattered throughout the house, playing video games as late as I wanted, and then sleeping in late while sprawled out diagonally on the bed in order to maximize the amount of space I could take up. It wasn't until the day that H and Cleo were coming back that I actually looked at the place and had to give a resigned sigh about how much work this whole bachelor binge was going to take.


Anyhow, here are some pictures H sent me from their trip!

Cleo and her birthday cousin.

Being cool with her aunt

Walking on the grass

And gets a hug from her other cousin

Photobomb!

Missing Out

So the day finally came. I knew it would be here eventually, though I tried to convince myself it would never come to this. I put it off as long as I could, but I could not deny it any longer.

The day came where I chose soccer... over my family.

Okay, that's a bit more dramatic than what actually happened. It's not like I abandoned Cleo to go to a futsal game. The US National Team was playing a World Cup Qualifier in Seattle. Despite being a HUGE national team fan, I've never seen the Nats play and my friend Chris got tickets!

Except... it was on a Tuesday, a day semi sacred to me and little C.

If that wasn't bad enough... it was also on mine and H's anniversary!

And I chose soccer.

Now, before I get tarred and feathered, it's often said that men in families only communicate their love through their shared interests. For my father and I, it was soccer and comic books.

My love of the Nats goes back to 1989 and a Paul Caliguri goal that booked the US back to the World Cup for the first time in over half a century that made both me and my father, both soccer nuts, feel like there was hope in this country for the sport we loved. Sure, it's kind of silly to put so much stock into a game, but this was back in the day where they made jokes about soccer being un-American and that people who liked it were commies. For guys like my dad and I who were passionate about soccer, being able to dress up in the Stars and Stripes IN ORDER TO support soccer was a vindication.

Someday soon, I'll just take her with me.

I remember vividly that my father bought a Soccer America magazine that had all of the US players for Italia 90 profiled in it like trading cards and I had them all memorized! In the years since, we would sometimes get together to watch the Nats play on TV and often talked about the team, especially in years like this leading up to the next World Cup. When we couldn't get together, we sometimes would call and stay on the phone while we watched the same game.

So when the tickets went on sale a week after my father died it was a balm upon my soul for me to buy one. (To be fair, I didn't realize it was on a Tuesday and H forgot that June 11th is our anniversary when she cleared me to buy them.)

Because I had to work on the 16th, we really didn't get to do much for Father's Day this year. But in all honesty, getting a free pass from my family to watch the US win and go to the top of the Hexagonal... to feel that my father's spirit was with me watching Altidore score a goal... well, for me, Father's Day was June 11th this year. USA!

Baby Lead Weaning

The kid is getting big. I picked her up the other week and let her stand on my chest the way she likes to do and... I really had to reach to hold her steady. Growing like a weed, as they say.

The biggest downside to this is that the routines I've carefully developed over the past few months will slowly stop working. Playing, feeding time, nap, music time, feeding time, and a jog or walk has worked pretty well, but the more I feel I've got the childcare thing down, the more she likes to switch things up. Nothing lets me know I'm in for a rough patch than a feeling of confidence. Those Greeks were right about hubris.

Last week was definitely one of the hardest. Nothing seemed to work. Anything that calmed her down would work for about ten minutes, then start extinguishing over the next ten, and finally morph into angry crying over the final ten. H came home and took over on Thursday and I ended up passing out from exhaustion on our half reassembled futon while waiting for the Thorns game to start.

I felt like Failure Dad for a few days until we discovered she had cut two more teeth during this time, which was a huge relief. The problem wasn't me, it was Cleo's gums! However, that brings the tooth total up to five, which is officially one fourth of the baby teeth that will be coming in.

You know what that means? That's right, time for solids.

Ready... Start!

H had planned to do the baby led weaning where instead of giving the kid pastes and purees, you give them a piece of real food. Like if you cook spaghetti for yourself, you cook up a few pieces of rigatoni for the kid and let her have them. It's a very natural way to transition the kid to actually eating real food.

It's also freaking terrifying. As the babies learn to handle the food, they WILL gag on it. This is partly because they have an over developed gag reflex at this age, but also because this is such a weird freaking experience to go from 100% liquids to something solid. It's the whole learning to breath a gas rather than a fluid dilemma all over again. The people behind the method are quick to assure you that gagging is not choking and is just a part of her learning limitations.

And here we are 3 minutes
later. It's possible some food
got in. But not likely.

The reason it's terrifying is that at this stage in parenting, you have learned that babies have the self preservation instincts of a Chicken McNugget. Seriously, I'll be holding her gently in the morning trying to get her to practice sitting up and then suddenly she's all "Oooo! Shiny!" and spazzes out in my grip, faceplanting on the bed while trying to reach something three yards away. She had no idea she was on a bed. She could have been on concrete or over a pit of spikes and she would have done the same thing.

So when you have a creature in your care that is determined to injure itself, actually giving it the means seems like insanity. She stuffed half a brussel sprout in her mouth the other day and then started crying. I'm approaching her as if someone gave her a grenade... calm, reassuring, no sudden movements, then I reach into her mouth and disarm the situation. Of course, then you realize that she had eaten half of it and really wasn't in any danger, but seriously, would you trust this face?

Moving

I thought it was a truism in life that the more you did something, the less unpleasant it became. Working out, walking in the cold, eating brussel sprouts... you get acclimated to it over time and it gets, if not better, then at least not as bad.

I have found that this is not the case with moving.

Those were the days...

I've moved from crappy places to good places and vice versa. I've moved form home to dorms to frats to apartments to houses to duplexes to back home again to back out again and NONE of them have been pleasant. The only time moving was half bearable was when, in college, I distilled all of my possessions down to the point that they could be transported in a Ford Festiva with a futon mattress strapped on top. Even then, it still sucked, but it was only one trip.

The last time we were happy in this process.

For some reason, it's ALWAYS the same dilemma. You get stuff boxed up, you get the big stuff moved, and  you start thinking "Huh. This isn't so bad. Maybe I have it down finally." And we did really good with planning this! My stepmother came down to help us, we hired movers for a few hours, we started collecting boxes about a month before the move... H and I were high fiving each other about how we had this down!

Then you start boxing up the small crap. And boxing up the small crap. AND BOXING UP THE SMALL CRAP. A nearly empty kitchen has now somehow created three carloads of boxes! You can't clean the place until the boxes are all boxed. You can't brush your teeth or shave at the new place because your stuff is in a box and you can't waste energy unboxing stuff when you have stuff to box and clean at the new place. So you drift in this hellish limbo place for a while, cursing your decision to move, slowly becoming more convinced that the boxes are watching you... conspiring against you... cardboard is the enemy...

Er... anyhow... Cleo hasn't been taking it well either. Let's face it, almost her whole life has consisted of two rooms and a bathroom. Everything she finds comforting and soothing has almost always been within line of sight. Now? Spread out over a few rooms and two floors, almost all of it boxes... boxes as far as the eye can see. Oh.... and you must watch them!

Naturally, she has not enjoyed this experience.

While I am sympathetic, it HASN'T been helpful. Standing in a room that you are so sick of cleaning that the only reason you don't simply vomit all over it is that it would be counterproductive to your goal, the last thing you need is a screaming baby who is inconsolable and gives no indication of why she is so agitated.

Life as we know it.

But... that's what she does cause that's what babies do. All you can do is calm and comfort her and binge on takeout food later because even though you kinda have a hunch about which boxes the cooking utensils are in... you're just going to pretend you don't have a clue so you can get a burger and shake and not have to rationalize it.




Cardboard is the enemy!