Frenzied Daddy

When it’s 85 degrees (that’s something else in Canadian) outside, the first instinct is to send the kids out to play. But when this sort of thing mysteriously appears, then we want to bring the girls inside and make them watch television.

One of my (oh so long ago, thanks Auntie A) college professors lead a discussion on “spheres of responsibility.” That is, he was consciously, gradually, increasing what he took credit for, or worked to prevent tragedy within. First, himself and what he could reach, then within his house, then within his office and classes, then … well, you get the idea. This mirrors another discussion I’ve had about securities; as someone becomes more and more secure, they’re concerned about a wider assortment of things. For instance, a person might worry about rent and food. If rent and food is covered, then perhaps clothes. If clothes are covered, perhaps eating out once in a while.

The general trend is … once you have basic stuff covered, you can worry about other threats. But don’t worry about other threats until your basic stuff is covered. I sort of explained that to a friend recently who had to move; I’m worried about money and a job, and all that rot, it’s hard for me to think about helping someone move.

That’s been challenged recently. Someone very close to me has been diagnosed with breast cancer. Yeah, the C word. It adds to my stress level. It’s outside my sphere of worry; I’m not comfortable yet to worry outside my life and the lives of my wife and children. But on the other hand, it’s definately a worry. I can’t do anything to help the issue, other than send my good vibes to her. I know it’s out of my hands, but it’s on the horizon of my sphere of stress.

This book is freaking hilarous. “Just when you’ve gotten used to your infant model, it begins to malfunction … ” This book has everything from child-proofing your home to dealing with self-sleep mode and sleep cycle reprogramming. The schematic diagrams (auditory input, left) are themselves worth the price of the book.

Presentation is awe-inspiring. Content was kind of light; it’s a good very basic book, good for a first time (scared) dad. It’s not on the level of What to Expect the Toddler Years, but it’s fairly decent. I would hesitate to call it comprehensive. However, for the price of a lunch out (for three), these laughs are worth every penny.

Hey, did you notice that our Gallery (new pictures up by the way) had comments? Woah!

Hmm; better answer some of those. Baby K’s birthday is July 19. She’s wearing 12mo sizes, and what we’re looking for (besides the usual cute baby stuff) is tee-shirts. We have plenty of creepers, onesies, pyjamas (actually, in this weather lately she’s wearing some of Miss B’s tee-shirts for night shirts, just as Miss B wears some of mine. Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside Please aim big- 12 / 18 month old stuff. Not that I’m asking or anything- just responding to some of the comments.

The most recent pics are from the trip to the fountain last week. I was over at my folks’ house and noticed that Mom had swiped the picture of the girls and pasted it onto her desktop. So, Mom, here’s some bigger ones for ya.

While I’ve been ahem occupied, I’ve missed the opportunity to spew a few rantings.

First; flag burning. What the hell? The sewing of strips of red and white nylon to a patch of blue does not impart some mystical property to a the end result- burning a flag is disrespectful, sure, but it’s not a crime. It’s like swearing; sometimes an appropriate reaction to the situation that surrounds us, but unlike swearing, usually used to make a point.

Effigy burning has been around a long time, people. That’s all flag burning comes down to- burning the country in effigy, by burning a symbol of the country. It’s not a crime for gossake!

Ok. Second on the list; the runaway bride has a half-million dollar offer for a book about her life story? Who gives a flying— err, nevermind. Aside to Mrs B: Honey, I’m going to disappear for a few days, look for me after alerting the news. But don’t look for me in Nevada.

Ok, I suppose that’s all the outrage I can muster for the evening. It’s been fairly rotten around here today; Mrs B had a fourth job interview at this place out in B-town. She was only there for about ten minutes, when they announced that they had serious doubts about her willingness to do the job for longer than a week. It pays roughly half of what she was making in her previous positions. Honestly, folks, what does it take to decide that? Three interviews of over an hour each? Why didn’t they decide that even before she took the stupid typing / phone skills tests? Sigh.

Miss B stepped on what looks like a piece of glass tonight. Her foot’s pretty sliced up; but the bleeding’s stopped and it’s stopped throbbing. I think she’ll be ok. We discussed how much blood she could lose if she were to donate blood (the big Pyrex measuring cup is how much they take out of me … ) It strengthened my resolve to get the girls under some sort of insurance. Any ideas out there?

I suppose unemployment has its perks. After my daily abolutions at Monster.com and the newspaper, I took the girls down to the Rose Quarter fountain. They seemed to have fun. I think it’s time for my nap now.

On our way out the door last night to Father’s Day Dinner, I glanced at my desk where my camera sat, and left it there. Boy, was that a mistake. I missed some great playtime shots of Miss B walking her cousin J around, of them cuddling up with the pigs, of them playing with some MatchBox™ cars (and rocketting them down the table) of Baby K cuddling with the pigs and walking around too- and her flirting with the elderly woman in the booth nearby.

When we arrived at the Russell Street BBQ, we were surprised to hear a real live Emergency Broadcast System alert. Severe thunderstorms in Estacada (Bagby Hot Springs was specifically mentioned) headed slowly north. I had noticed when I was driving the iron-slate color of the southern sky, but several of the anvil-shaped thunderclouds had been moving through Portland today and I figured this was just an extension. They also said that while it was unexpected, a tornado was indeed possible.

Coming home, we were awed by the cloud formations highlit with bright orange and red. And we even saw lightning, which is pretty rare here in the Willamette Valley. Take a look at these other people’s pictures to see why I’m kicking myself today. Skies like these would be terrific to have shot, and I’m regretting not taking the camera.

Georgia hit it on the head; I was looking for advice on coaching my kid through these times, not fiction books to provide her with role models. Thanks, GJ; I’ll add it to my library list.

Note to self: If you’d yell at your kids for making that sort of lunch, don’t eat it yourself. Yeah, I’m talking about the three pieces of licorice, pickle, hunk of cheese and handful of almonds. Suck it up, fuzzball.

And lastly, if your compost pile smells funny, and you think it needs more air, is it kosher to toss in some OxiMagic instead? Because turning over a stinky compost pile isn’t fun, and OxiMagic might be easier…

Any suggestions on books / videos to help my daughter learn to navigate through those 8-12 year old rocky girl-girl relationships?