Walking in the Shadows

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Hockey Hallway

It was one of those situations where you don’t really think about what you are about to do until you actually do it. When I signed my son up for skating lessons, I did so under the pressured haze of our city’s crazy registration system. Other than being excited to share another of my favourite things with him, I hadn’t really considered all of the underlying factors.

When we arrived for his first lesson, something immediately struck me as odd. I hadn’t been to this rink in a while. It happened to be the same place where I got my start as a young skater and I had spent many very early mornings at this rink with my Dad as I traveled through the hockey ranks. The canteen here was also where I held my very first job and learned the art of slacking off.

The very first thing that hit me though, was the smell. It may sound ridiculous but anyone who has had any kind of positive experience inside a local hockey rink will tell you that it has a very specific smell. After a while you kind of forget it’s even there, but coming back to it after so many years I can only compare it to how people describe new car smell. I missed it and beamed a huge smile as the memories started flowing back.

We were told our dressing room number and made our way to the tunnel. I can remember the exact moment the next flash happened. Just as we passed the referee’s dressing room I got hit with a wave of memories all at once and actually had to stop for a minute to process it all. It’s no secret to anyone who reads this blog that I had a great father who passed away far too soon. And in that hallway I felt like I was remembering everything all at the same time. I remembered him carrying my bag down the hallway for me because it was too heavy or because I was too wimpy, tying my skates a little too tight for my liking and always buying me a slush puppie after the game. These are great memories and even though I miss my Dad every single day, I am blessed to have them.

As for my son’s skating experience, it was truly awesome. To see the determination in his eyes as he struggled to stay on his feet, reminded me of a young me, never giving up and always looking to do it better. I’d lost a little bit of that in the past few years but seeing it in my son reminded me how important having that determination is. I’m so proud to be his father and I’m lucky to have had the great parents I did growing up, because I know my children will benefit from that.

It’s pretty amazing how something so simple as skating lessons can bring on such a swell of emotions. In the end, I’m glad that it did because it reinforces how important it is as parents to create great memories for your kids. And as for the slush puppie, my son isn’t a huge fan yet, but we’ll get there.

Gangnam Style Has Taken Over My Toddlers

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Gangnam Style

I have never been annoyed by the Gangnam Style song, even though it has been on YouTube for about 7 months and has been redone and parodied thousands of times over. This is probably a good thing considering the fact that my children have recently developed an unhealthy obsession with singing and performing all of the dance moves.

It’s a weird phenomenon to see their reaction when the song starts playing. It doesn’t matter what they happen to be doing at that exact moment, they stop and immediately start dancing. Oddly enough, the same thing happens to me…

Anyway, my son beat me at Candy Land last night and instead of the customary “Good Game” handshake we have taught him, he burst into his Gangnam Style routine, which made me forgive his poor sportsmanship. I figured I wouldn’t be doing my duty as a parent if I had not taped a little bit of his Gangnam rendition, you know, for later wedding use. Enjoy!

Cheers!

I’m Crafty and I Know It; Also, When Glue Guns Attack

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There I sat with my son, staring at a pile of faux cotton, googly eyes, a marker and a glue gun; thinking, “What am I supposed to do with all this stuff?” I mean, sure, I’ve done crafty things before but nothing of this magnitude or importance. I had no idea how big this 100th Day of School thing was until I checked Pinterest for ideas. Yeah, that’s right, I said Pinterest, so what?! (PS – I even have my own account and everything…)

Anyway, as it turns out, people take this 100 Day thing very seriously! Some maybe even too seriously, but you didn’t hear that from me. We had picked out the idea for the monster shirt a few weeks prior and armed ourselves with the necessary tools to complete the job. If I’m being completely honest, although I didn’t expect my wife to take the reins on this one, I certainly hadn’t factored in the possibility of Daddy being the project manager. We all have our faults and this is one I am working on.

After being informed of our upcoming contract, my son and I put on our hard hats and got down to business. He diligently counted out 100 (or so) googly eyes, while I carefully drew out the monster’s frame.

Monster Time

Once we had the framework done, we were ready to begin gluing the 100 tiny eyes to the shirt. This is the point that my son decided that Super Mario Bros on the Nintendo Wii was much more interesting and left me to fend for myself. Everything was going according to plan and I was even starting to get confident in my abilities. Apparently I was getting a little too confident and that’s when my glue gun decided to knock me down a peg…or four. Check out this battle scar.

Glue Gun Mishap

Don’t worry, folks, I’m alright and soldiered through the rest of the project unharmed. Before I do the big reveal of my first major project, I wanted to provide some tips for other less than crafty Dads. First, don’t be afraid of trying crafty things with/for your kids. It’s not as hard as it looks, you can definitely do it and you will feel pretty good about yourself afterwards. Second, glue guns are hot, so try not to glue a googly eye to your finger because it will hurt and leave a scarlet letter on your finger for all to see.

Now let’s get back to business. Without further ado, I present to you our completed 100th Day project, the 100 Eyed Monster!

100th Day

Seriously, this was a lot of fun to make and the pride I felt once it was finished was enough to make me want to create something else very soon. My kids and I have already decided on cardboard space ships for our next project, so keep an eye out for those very soon! I leave you with a shot of a very happy, monster wearing, customer! Cheers!!

Happy Customer

Coming Home

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Family Photo

It didn’t take long to miss the little things after leaving on my recent journey to the land known as America. There was no hug goodbye, no “we’ll miss you Daddy”, really, there was nothing but silence as I slipped out the door at 5am on a cold Thursday morning.

As I hit the road that morning, I had a nervous excitement about where I was headed and the experiences I would have. Still, there were constant reminders of what I was leaving behind. A miniature hockey bag on the floor made me think about how great my son’s first year of skating was going and of how proud I was of him. He wasn’t floating on air like Gretzky but maybe Wayne himself got off to a slow start.

There were warning signs to turn around as well. The first was the eerie squeal of the tires as they tore across the metal of the International Bridge. This was followed by 65 mile per hour winds that did everything but knock me right off the road. The two blizzards that followed served as a reminder of the fact that I was not in charge. No, SHE was in charge and it wouldn’t be the last time on this trip that I would be reminded of this.

I was not even three hours in and I was already wondering if my family missed me as much as I missed them. As I sat in the terminal, staring at the giant hunk of aluminum that would soon propel me 38,000 feet above land, I thought only of them. Airplanes. My arch nemesis. My kryptonite.

The flights were surprisingly easy; aside from the constant thoughts of us colliding with another aircraft, that is. I quietly read about Neil Young’s life story and his inspiration was enough to keep my nervous twitch subdued just long enough for the wheels to hit the tarmac. I love Neil. He has helped me through many tough times even though we have never met, and most likely never will.

Airports, Hotel, Conference, Karaoke, Cabbies with Guns; All of it wonderful and exciting and new in its own way, but something was still missing. I got a preview of that something at the midway point of my adventure courtesy of my wife. Here it is:

Yeah… I don’t think I need to explain what happened next, do I? By the end of the video, my room resembled the falls in Niagara as I instinctively clicked play, again, and again, and again. Each time noticing something familiar and wishing I was back there, in that moment, with my family. I knew I couldn’t leave just yet. I came here with a purpose, after all, and wouldn’t leave until I had proved to myself that I could face my fear and conquer it, which I am proud to say I did.

The long trip home was filled with road blocks. Airport confusion, flight delays, freezing rain, darkness, sleet, snow, aliens, gremlins, Super Bowl black outs & even the Stay Puff marshmallow man! You name it, I saw it, but nothing was going to stop me from getting home to those three smiling faces from the video. The kids were dreaming of princesses and Skylanders by the time I got home but I enjoyed the quiet catch up with my wife, whom I missed dearly.

Then, as if she could read my mind, my daughter popped her head around the stairwell and smiled. It was one of those smiles that make you realize how important someone is in your life. It was love. And I was wearing the exact same smile.

Deeder Dodder Date: Princess Edition

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Daddy Daughter Date

“Daddy, is tomorrow Deeder Dodder Day?” she asked.

“You bet, honey!” I answered.

“Yay!!!” she squealed excitedly.

If I could have frozen that moment forever, I would have. You see, “Deeder Dodder Day” is actually my 2 year old daughter’s way of saying “Daddy Daughter Date“, and to see how excited she was to be hanging out with me was enough to swell my heart with pride.

When I asked my daughter out on the date a few days before this exchange, I had just secured tickets to the Official Princess Parties “Royal Ball” and I knew she would love it. My only concern was whether she would say yes or not! Luckily for me, she said yes and I was able to keep the event a surprise until the big day came. I had been eyeing this event ever since our chance run in with an awesome Snow White earlier in the year. The fact that we had met Rapunzel and Minnie Mouse at later events were icing on the cake. Knowing that the proceeds were going to the Children’s Wish Foundation and that these particular characters were going to be there were just added bonuses.

Snow WhiteSnow White Belle

 

 

 

 

 

The magical day arrived and we were off to meet our favourite Disney characters. It’s hard to pinpoint my favourite part of the afternoon because there were so many. From seeing my daughter’s face light up as we were greeted in the parking lot by Mickey Mouse, to the moment the princesses were introduced, the entire event was amazing and well put together. They had a candy bar, nail painting and lots of interactive things for the little kids to do with the princesses (and two princes). Oh yeah, did I mention the chocolate fountain?? That one was for Daddy.

I loved watching the emotions that ran through my little girl’s brain that day. She was excited at times and shy at others. She participated in all the activities, even though she was the smallest one there by quite a bit. We danced, sang, ate candy and laughed the whole time. We had pure unfiltered fun and it was a perfect afternoon.

I want to say a great big Thank You to all the wonderful employees and characters at Official Princess Parties. You made a wonderful impression on my daughter and gave us a Deeder Dodder Date that we will remember forever.

PS – Funny story. While we were talking to Rapunzel, I brought up that my daughter had asked to have a princess birthday party. She had asked for a Rapunzel party at home but when Rapunzel herself asked, my daughter said she wanted an Ariel party…awkward. If Rapunzel is reading this, as soon as we got in the car, she again asked for a Rapunzel party. Followed by a Snow White Party. Followed by a Belle party…No hard feelings??

Cheers!

Princesses

Are Rules Really Meant To Be Broken?

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Dance Class Window

See that picture above? That’s the tiny little window I get to look through while my 2.5 year old daughter is in her very first dance class. When we chose this particular dance class, it was under the assumption that it would be just the kids and the teachers in the room. After all, that’s why they have two options, one for parents and tots together and another for kids who are okay on their own.

I was so excited for my daughter as we drove to her first class. She had her little tutu and she was all smiles as she entered the room and ran right over to the mat to sit with her teacher. She barely said goodbye to us and I was more than alright with that because I loved to see how happy she was. As the other families began to file in, half of them surprisingly late, I noticed a trend forming. Over half of the children immediately freaked out at the thought of being left in the room alone, so their parents went into the class and participated with them.

I get the first class jitters thing and while it bothered me that the class was basically a wash due to all the disruptions, I was sympathetic to the fact that some of the kids needed to get accustomed to it. Besides, I had my own problems in the hallway with one of the other Dads, who was breaking the unspoken “Dad Rule” by hogging all the tiny window time. Oh, did I mention that his wife was IN the class with their daughter!

We approached the second class cautiously optimistic that all the kids would be good to go in on their own this time. You know, because this was the reason we all chose this class, right? So the kids could explore their new found freedom and independence. The results were shocking. Not only did over half the parents still walk right in to attend the class, they didn’t even try to let their kids go in alone. None of the kids were screaming. None of them were clinging or dragging their feet. So why were the parents in there??

Here’s the thing. I don’t care about whether your child is comfortable being alone in the class or not. I only care about getting the experience I paid my hard earned money for my child to get. So when 5 out of the 9 kids have parents in the small dance room, it is distracting for the kids who are interested in actually listening to the teacher and following her instructions. Not to mention the fact that the small window I fight to watch through is now blocked by parents on the INSIDE of the room!

This is not a rant against the kids who aren’t comfortable going to dance class by themselves. I’m talking about the parents who signed up for the “no parents allowed” class knowing full well that their child wasn’t ready for it. This may all seem a little harsh but c’mon, you know your child better than anybody. Plus, there was another class offered that parents were allowed to participate in. Now my daughter has to watch you having fun with your kid in the class while wondering why her Mommy and Daddy aren’t in there and that’s not fair to her.

My point here is that while you may think your presence in the class isn’t distracting, it actually is. I realize they aren’t actually learning professional dance moves, but through that tiny window, I see the crowded room and the intimidation in my daughter’s eyes as she bumps into another Mom’s leg as she dances, care free, around the room. I mentioned it to the teachers of the class, who agreed with me, but said they couldn’t kick the parents out of the room, which was also not what I wanted. I just wish people would be more conscious of how their actions affect other people. Going forward, I’ll have to start focusing my efforts more on fighting for time at the small window and less on who’s in the room.

Thanks for letting me rant. I don’t do it very often but it felt pretty good to get it all out.

Cheers!

Someday That’ll Be Me

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I love being a Dad. Snuggling with my little ones is probably my favourite pastime these days, especially with the advance knowledge that they won’t want to do that forever. I can’t believe how fast they are growing up and how quickly their minds and abilities are evolving, but, I have to admit, contrary to how I thought I would feel about their rate of growth, I’m kind of excited about it.

Don’t get me wrong, I definitely don’t want them to turn into teenagers tomorrow. I love all the amazing moments and “firsts” that come with raising toddlers, but every now and then I see a Dad on his way to his son’s hockey practice or daughter’s dance recital and proudly think, “Someday that’ll be me”.

With each new step my children take towards independence, I can’t help but think of everything the world has in store for them and for us as a family. When I took my son skating for the first time, I kept glancing over at the father and son having a game of one on one and got an extra proud bounce in my stride in thinking about the day that I will be playing in that game.

I watch how carefully and lovingly my daughter takes care of her little dolls, making sure to give them all regular checkups, and I can’t help but flash forward to the day that she is taking care of real people at her own practice. These thoughts bring on an unexplainable sense of pride in knowing that my kids still have time to do whatever they want to do with their lives.

I have no intention of rushing my children’s development but that doesn’t mean I’m not excited for the journey that lies ahead. Even the smallest of scenarios are things that I can’t stop thinking about. I saw an older man having lunch with his adult son and grandson the other day and I couldn’t help but get lost in thinking, “Someday that’ll be me”.

How Being a Good Loser is Easier Said Than Done

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Trouble

Have you ever played the game, Trouble? I’m the blue guys in the above photo. My 4 year old son is yellow. If you are familiar with this game you will know that I am getting destroyed in the match pictured. I couldn’t roll a 6 to save my life and he was swimming in 6’s and letting me know about it with an NFL style happy dance as they popped up.

Cute, right?

WRONG! As much as Daddy loves to play games with the kids, there is still that competitive fire that creeps in every now and then. That voice that calls out, “C’mon man! You used to be an elite athlete and now this kid is running all over you. Do something!” I’m not exactly sure what I was supposed to do in this instance, aside from yelling, “Look! Mickey Mouse!” while opening the dice container and placing it on a 6, but it was definitely a frustrating round.

Before this story gets out of control, I should point out that at no point did I let my son in on the fact that my head was exploding with the desire to pick up the game and throw it out in the snow, where I could then pretend that our snowman wanted to play with it. I’m not a monster, after all. The snowman, on the other hand…

I grew up as a competitive person and it has been the thing that has driven me for years. In sports, at work and even with blogging, my competitive nature is what pushes me to want to be better at everything I do and it’s not something I regret having. Now that I have kids, however, I need to work at finding the balance between competitiveness and fun. I wish it was something I could just turn off but it doesn’t seem to be working out that way. We played Mario Bros just last night and even though we were playing as teammates, my son’s need to get all the mushrooms, paired with his ability to stand directly in front of the television so I can’t see my guy, brought back memories of when I used to just smash my controller on the ground and then find something else to do until my parents bought me a new one.

Ironically enough, typing this post has given me a lot of perspective on the issue because, well, look how ridiculous it sounds while you read it back. It’s relatively easy to teach kids to be respectful and gracious when they lose at something but it’s not always easy to teach ourselves new ways of doing things. I’m working on it though and I’m definitely enjoying myself more and more as I suppress the need to win against my toddlers… It’s a good thing they can’t read our minds, that’s for sure.

Do you ever get the urge to flip the Monopoly board or turn off a game of MarioKart in mid stream? Please share your thoughts in the comments so I can feel better about myself.

Cheers!

The Thin Line Between Love and Hate

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Father Son

The sting was more than I had I anticipated. I knew this day would come but not this soon. Not now. It seems like just yesterday when we were playing outside in the snow, running, laughing and loving each other’s company. Actually, that was, literally, just yesterday. How did we get from that to this…

“I Hate My Daddy and We’re Not Friends Anymore!”

Of course, I played it totally cool the moment it happened even though my ears and my heart were burning up. All he had to do was say he was sorry to his little sister, who he had just shoved in a fit of anger. It seemed like a reasonable enough request as far as I was concerned, but his refusal landed him in his room for timeout.

Four. That’s how old my precious little bundle of joy is. Four years is all it took for him to go from falling asleep in his rice cereal to figuring out the keys to victory in a showdown with his old man.

Four. That’s how many minutes his timeout would last, unless he was willing to come out and apologize; which he was not.

Four. That’s the amount of minutes I had to sit outside his door and think about a life where my son hated me. It felt like 4 years and I almost caved a number of times but managed to stand my ground.

Where did he even learn that word? It’s not like he knows what it means; at least not in its truest form. We also try not to use any of the no-no words in our house. You know the ones: stupid, jerk, loser, hate, Caillou; see George Carlin for the rest.

He’s bound to hear them all at some point or another. If it wasn’t from me, it was going to be at school or on television, where even toddler programs seem to be pushing the envelope for reasons I can’t explain (I’m looking at you, Arthur).

We sat and talked after the timeout fiasco. We talked about why we should never use that word and how much it can hurt other people. I don’t know if he understood the conversation but he nodded along and then apologized for saying it and for hitting his sister. Oddly enough, I may have been the one who learned the biggest lesson out of all of this. No matter how hard we try to shield our children from the bad things in this world, they are eventually going to find them, so it’s best to be mentally ready for these situations well ahead of time. So far, the only true method I have found to be effective is love, patience and understanding, which I hope rubs off on my kids as they grow older and wiser.

I’m also happy to report that after our chat, my son let me know that we can be friends again, which is all this Dad really needed to hear.

Have your kids told you that they hate you before? If so, what age were they?

Cheers!

Sometimes Parenting Means Eating Froot Loops From The Floor In The Bathroom

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Kelloggs Froot Loops

You’re probably thinking “link bait” on this one, right? Unfortunately, for me, the title is 100% accurate. Let me tell you why I was forced to eat my delicious Kellogg’s Froot Loops from the floor in the bathroom…

I guess I should start by answering the obvious first question: Yes, I am a 34 year old man/husband/father and I still occasionally enjoy a bowl of sugary Froot Loops. While we’re on the subject, once every weekend I even let my kids have a bowl of it. There it is. I am a terrible father and role model.

Now, where were we??? Oh yes, the eating cereal from the bathroom floor thing.

You see, I am a firm believer that crunchy cereal is meant to be enjoyed while it is still in a semi crunchy state. Otherwise, why would it begin crunchy in the first place? It would just come in a can, like soup, and we would either drink it or continue eating it with a spoon as we do now. Of course, that would just be ridiculous.

There is, in fact, an art to cereal eating that I have decided not to bore you with at this time. That being said, one of the key components to enjoy a perfect bowl of cereal is the ability to eat it immediately after the milk has been poured. This becomes difficult when your two year old, almost potty trained, daughter yells “I have to go pee-pee!” as she runs to the bathroom.

What else was I supposed to do? I followed quickly behind her, bowl in hand, as we took our usual places. I can’t say it was my ideal eating conditions but damn if that wasn’t a delicious bowl of cereal!

Have you ever been stuck between a Pot and a Hard Place? Share your story in the comments!

Cheers!