Daddy Can Cook: Plum Dumplings

Sometimes I forget things.  My forgetfulness usually takes the form of an aptitude to misplace small items.  There is a running joke in my household that anything that is covered by a single sheet of paper is rendered invisible to me.  I laugh along and call myself a rock.

Get it?  

Paper beats rock.

Anyway...

My wife helps me out when I need it.  She always seems to know where I left my phone, or my wallet, or the baby.  But there are some things that I am not allowed to forget.  These things are of such basic importance that I require constant reminders lest I forget them, even for a moment.  She frequently reminds me that I am a wonderful father, a good man, and quite possibly the luckiest person ever to have married her.

 I am also lucky to have been allowed to be a part of her family.  She comes from Bohemian ancestry (Czech yourself b4 you wreck yourself) as well as English, Norwegian, Irish and a smattering of other nationalities.  We've been spending a lot of time with her grandmother lately, who honored me by teaching to me the way of traditional Bohemian plum dumpling-making.

It starts, as most good things do, with potatoes.

Here is what you'll need

4 potatoes peeled, boiled, mashed, and cooled

2 to 3 cups of flour

1 egg

1/2 tsp salt

1/4 cup sugar plus 1/2 cup sugar for optional plum sauce

1 stick butter

7-10 ripe Black Beauty Plums (or 12-16 Italian Prune Plums)

Poppy seeds for topping

Add the egg and salt to the potatoes and mix well.  Mix in the flour, one half cup at a time until the dough reaches the consistency of fresh Play-Doh non-trademarked children's modeling compound.  It should be easy to mold, but not too sticky to manipulate.  There's your dumpling dough.

Now take your plums, they should already be slightly soft, if not you can put them in the microwave for twenty seconds.  Clean them with a wet cloth and roll them in a saucer filled with 1/4 cup of sugar.  Wrap them in 1/4 to 1/2 inch of your dumpling dough and hand roll them to seal all the cracks.  Sealing the cracks is very important otherwise your dumplings will open while cooking and all your plum goodness will be washed away.  Put completed dumplings into a pot of boiling water and boil those suckers until they float.

While your dumplings are boiling, cut up a few plums (2 Black or 4-5 Prunes) and add the 1/2 cup sugar and 1/2 cup water and boil until the plums are very soft for a plum sauce topping.

Serve dumplings cut up, seeds removed, drenched in butter, topped with plum sauce or sugar, and very liberally covered in poppy seeds for the ultimate in Bohemian comfort food.

Toeing The Line Between Fun And Responsibility

There are many reasons to love South Dakota.  There is no state income tax.  The Black Hills are beautiful both this and every other time of year.  It houses some of the most fertile farmland in the United States.  And it is super cheap to register your car.  While these are all excellent reasons to love my home state, there is another that outshines them all.

Relaxed laws regulating the use of fireworks, at least in some towns.

That's right.  This is a 4th of July post.

Yes I know the 4th was last week.  This is my life now.

First I should give some you some of my pyrotechnical background.

As a child I had very little exposure to anything other than sparklers.  I grew up in Rapid City and was always told that fireworks were banned in city limits for fear of starting a wildfire.  My mother never much cared for them, so they weren't a part of our midsummer celebration.  Before my late teen years I count only two experiences involving fireworks.  Once was at the home of a family friend, while my mother and stepfather looked on in disapproval.  The other was with my father, watching him fire off a few for my entertainment on a hill overlooking Fort Pierre before being shooed away by a police officer.

It wasn't until I was a young man of fifteen years, flush with the disposable income of a professional part-time dishwasher, that I was able to purchase seasonal explosives for my own use.  Of course, the fact that they were illegal in town was part of the thrill of the occasion for me and my friends.  Most of our time was spent finding a suitably hidden location for our combustible exploits. Each of us in the group was a young Prometheus, fleeing the wrath of those in power in order to experience the thrill of recreational fire.

Since those days I have grown up and found a career in the casino entertainment industry.  One of the realities of said vocation is that holidays are for working.  We are at our busiest on days traditionally reserved for leisure.  And so, like many other holidays, my Independence Days are spent at work, helping other people relax and have some fun.

I've been blessed in many ways to be at the casino where I currently work.  Not the least of those blessings has been my schedule.  Along with great days off and phenomenal hours I was not scheduled to work on the 4th this year.  This is the first Independence Day I have not had to work in ten years.  That predates the both my marriage and the the birth of my oldest child.

I was finally able to spend the 4th with my family and it.. was.. AWESOME!  We spent the morning touring potential homes and had a great family lunch at one of our favorite restaurants.  We returned home to buy fireworks and start putting dinner together.  My Princess and I put together a short pre-dinner home fireworks display to the great enjoyment of Chunky Monkey.  Then we feasted on grilled brats with all the traditional summer sides.  After Princess and I ignited the rest of our fireworks it was time to put my son into bed.  Great-Grandma stayed home with Chunky Monkey and the rest of the family headed off to the city baseball field for the fireworks extravaganza.

Extravaganza is really the only applicable word here.  The local show in this small town is absolutely world-class in every way.  Put on by a local business owner (who also holds a Pyrotechnics Guild International license) at no cost to the city, this annual show is always the talk of this small town.  I had heard it described before but until this year I had never experienced it.  It began with a ground show.  This year's theme was "Godzilla".  Three different Godzilla monsters were made out of fire.  They attacked Tokyo, also made of fire, only to face defeat at the hands of a battalion of tanks also made out of, you guessed it, FIRE.

And that was just the first act.

It was followed by an hour-long aerial show featuring massive sky-flowers, ground based fountains, and explosions that could be felt deep in the gut.  All this was launched a mere 450 or so feet from where we sat.  Calling it grandiose would be an understatement.

Ears still ringing and slightly singed, we finally staggered back to bed at a completely indecent hour.  It was easily the best 4th of July I have ever experienced.

No matter where I end up in life, no matter how far away I make my home, I will always try to return back here in midsummer.  These folks know how to celebrate the 4th.

It It Over Yet?

In a word... no.

But there is a light at the end of the tunnel.  After six long months, I have begun work at a new job.  I love being part of the opening of a new casino, and this new company that I am working for is great.  It is so refreshing to get out from under the boot of corporate bureaucracy and back to working for and with actual human beings.  I think I am going to be very happy with this company.

My new employment will mean some changes here at The Raconteur Daddy.  First of all I will no longer attempt to produce new posts on a deadline.  I hope to keep a high level of quality and feel that I can only accomplish this by posting only when I have something to say.  I will also be removing the ads from my blog.  I'm not a professional blogger, nor do I wish to be.  Google and Amazon will have to find a way to continue doing business without my support, and I wish them all luck in doing so.

I have nothing but appreciation for all of you who have read this blog and hope you will continue to do so.  I appreciate having the time to work through this transition period in my life and hope to come back soon with more to share.

Lunchroom Life Lessons

Just an adorable little girl.

There are some pretty important lessons in life that we learn outside the classroom.  I remember when my Princess learned one of those.

It was August of 2007.  She was still getting acclimated to our new house, into which we had moved four months before.  She had spent a busy summer playing in the yard, fishing with dad, and visiting the zoo.  We celebrated her fifth birthday just two months before with our family and the one little friend she had made at our old apartment complex.  She was both excited and a little scared to be starting Kindergarten.

I would totally put one of these in my house.

On the first day of school we went in and met her teacher, Miss Williamson.  It was a wonderful classroom with a few tiny desks, lots of toys and games, and even a little loft area the kids could climb around on.  She tentatively explored the room, finding her birthday on the big calendar and the desk with her name on it.  She was a brave girl and didn't shed a tear when it was time for mommy and daddy to leave.

I hadn't been so anxious for the end of the school day in ten years.

Finally the three-o-clock bell rang.  Mommy and Daddy were both at the school ready to receive the report on that critical first impression.  "It was OK," she sighed, "but I would have liked my cookie."

See, our school has all-day Kindergarten.  And the kids eat school lunch just like the older elementary kids.  Her first school lunch included a little chocolate-chip cookie for dessert.  In our family, we are more likely to eat fruit with a meal for dessert, and save the extra special stuff (cookies, cake, etc.) for a mid-afternoon or bedtime snack.

What she had done, upon receiving her school lunch tray, is exactly what she had learned to do at home.  She ate her entree and vegetables, drank her milk, and had intended to keep the cookie for a snack later in the day.  The lunch helpers, all adults, had come around to the Kindergarten table to bus the trays for the little ones.  When the Princess had her tray taken away, she had assumed that the cookie left on it would be held for her later.  It was only when she was talking to a little boy in her class about how much she was looking forward to her treat that she learned the cookie was gone forever.

I remember being struck by the tragic comedy of the situation.  She handled it like a champion, there were no tantrums, no tears or anger, she just pursed her lips and swallowed her disappointment.  Of course, after a trauma like that, we had to go out for a special after-school treat.  And The Princess learned a valuable lesson:  When the establishment hands you a cookie, grab it with both hands and don't let go.

A Father's Guide To The First Trimester

or All Hope Abandon Ye Who Enter Here

Nobody tells you about the first trimester of a pregnancy until it's too late.  The constant nausea, the mood swings, and the exhaustion is almost too much for one person to bear, plus she might be experiencing some discomfort as well.  Navigating the first trimester leaves many fathers feeling like a blind whitewater kayaker barreling down a shark-infested underground river in a leaky bucket with a ping-pong paddle to steer.  But it's your lucky day there, Sport.  I've been through it before and I just might be able to steer you clear of the pointier rocks in your path.

Her mood is changing all the time.  She used to just roll her eyes and scoff at your idiocy but now she realizes that the tiny life inside her is probably going to take after you to some degree.  I'm not going to say that's the only reason she's crying at the drop of a hat, but I'll bet it's right up there with sad songs, movies, and the more poignant cat food commercials.  Just be ready with a hand on her shoulder or a hug when her mood lifts enough that she can bear your touch.  She might act upset with you, she might even think she is upset with you, but these feelings will change.  If you can power through all of this without snapping back you will have built up enough good husband credits to cover at least one trip to Vegas with the boys and a handful of fantasy sports teams.

One of the causes of her bad mood, other than you of course, could be the phenomenon that in our household we refer to as "preggo brain".  This is when your normally responsible lady becomes as forgetful and bubble-headed as a wacky sitcom aunt.  It is during this stage where you make sure never to hand her anything important, like the remote or your car keys, because she will set it down in some place that only she knows exists, such as where new toilet paper rolls come from.  Then she will forget ever having held whatever object she has now lost for all eternity.  Perhaps she is getting it all out of her system.  That way nine months later you can hand her the baby with a reasonable confidence that it will not be misplaced.

Another effect of preggo brain is that her mouth becomes further disconnected from her brain.  You might think that this is no big deal, until you ask her opinion.  Allow me to give you a scenario:  You ask your wife if you should wear a specific red shirt and she answers "yes".  You put on said red shirt and when she sees you she sweetly reminds you that the shirt you are wearing makes you look like a pustulant sore on a rat.  The problem here is that you listened to what she said and not what she meant.  Single word answers don't count anymore.  What you should have done is ask her again, then double check to make sure.  This will annoy her to near-homicidal levels, but it is the only way to make sure you do what she wants.  There is no winning this scenario.  Either you do the wrong thing or you piss her off in finding the right thing to do.  Sorry.

Then there is the misnamed "morning sickness".  Perchance it was named thus due to the fact that it occurs only between 8:00 AM and 7:59 AM.  Who knows?  This is how her body drops the gauntlet and prepares to launch a nine-month campaign against her. Arm yourself with lemonade and soda crackers, and always be on the lookout.  Those times when the nausea subsides she is going to be ravenous.  Bratwurst at 10 PM not the norm in your household?  Just you wait.  It is no small feat to pack an entire day's caloric intake into the 10 minutes she feels well enough to eat.  Have something ready to go.  But whatever you do, always keep your nausea barometer on high alert, for the next few months "What would you like for dinner?" will become a loaded question.

The nine-month campaign I mentioned doesn't begin and end with her stomach either.  This lady was already a churning cauldron of emotions and you went and threw a double handful of hormonal pop rocks into the mix when you knocked her up.  No matter what foul thing her body puts her (and you) through as part of this pregnancy you must remember this:  You've been just as bad and probably worse for every single day that the two of you have been together.  So suck it up and know that if you ever complain about it, even just one word, you will very likely spend the rest of your (now significantly shortened) life wishing you hadn't.

Remember to keep telling yourself that it's O.K. and everything happening is only temporary.  On the other hand, you need to know that, in order to feel better, she is constantly reminding herself that this is all your fault.  And it is.  But it's okay, because the blame she puts on you right now becomes the credit you can take for her happiness when she finally gets to hold your new baby.

The first trimester isn't easy on anybody.  Just keep reminding yourself that millions of fathers the world over are going through the same thing right now.  And many of them go on to impregnate their wives again of their own free will.

You'll have to excuse me.  I have just been asked to prepare crepes with ricotta filling and fresh fruit, a thick slice of ham, and tater-tot casserole.  Which brings me to the second trimester...

Happy Birthday Chunky Monkey!

It has been a year since my son entered our lives.  It amazes me how he has enhanced the lives of everybody in our family.  Because of him, my wife found a new undertaking with her blog and contacts within the online Mommy community.  My daughter has blossomed as a big sister and her remarkable skills in dependability and independence have been reflected at school as well as at home.  As for me I'm just thankful to have the opportunity to raise the next generation of manhood.

Here's a brief recap of his life so far:

March 21, 2010

We arrive at the hospital at 7:50 AM.  At 3:13 he shows up mad as hell.

My memory might be a little foggy, but I don't think he calmed down for a few months.  We did manage to snap off a few pictures between his meltdowns.

By Easter of that year, we had settled into our happy family routine.

He celebrated Mother's Day in style.

In June, both he and big sister were baptized.

Over the rest of the summer his personality really started to develop.

By Autumn, The Princess was ready to take on her share of the baby work.

He loved Halloween, even though we wouldn't let him eat any candy.  That was also when he started crawling.

Once he was mobile, there was no stopping him for the rest of the winter.

Once he could get around, he quickly caught up with what he considered to be the most interesting family member.

Which brings us to today.  Our first try with cake didn't work out, but when we realized that he, like his mother, doesn't like frosting, it was all systems go.  Happy Birthday Champ, Daddy loves you.

Parenting Through Grief.

Most of our time as a parent is spent protecting our kids.  We protect them during their infancy by moving dangerous objects out of their reach, by purchasing car-seats and cribs that have been rigorously tested and are subject to recall at the slightest whisper of a defect, and by bundling their tiny bodies against the cold.  As they grow we try to protect them from strangers, inattentive drivers, bullies, drugs, alcohol, bad influences, and a host of other dangers too numerous to count.

Sometimes we find ourselves trying to protect our children from the grief that is felt at a tragedy.  One of the reasons that goldfish make such popular pets is that they all look the same, and because of this there are thousands of children out there who believe that their pet has the longevity of Methuselah.  As a parent the sheltering reaction is second-nature, and we give as little thought to it as we do the next breath we take.  If something is going to hurt my child, then I will do what I can to mitigate or prevent that pain.

Furthermore, we don't share our own grief with our children.  Has your child ever asked you, "What's wrong?" or "Why are you sad?"  Have you ever not answered "Daddy's fine" to those questions?  We prevent our children from seeing our anguish for the same reason that we make them wear a seat-belt.  We are trying to protect them from pain, preserve their innocence, give them just one less reason to be afraid of the dark.

It is here that we are doing our children a disservice.  Our sheltering hand is preventing our children from learning how to grieve.  We have one job, just one, as a parent and that is raising our children to be successful and happy adults.  There are so many situations that they will face in life where we as parents will have no influence.  It is foolish to beg off this perfect chance to teach them one of life's most valuable lessons.

Even worse is the fact that when we avoid and put off our children, we end up frightening and confusing them. I remember feeling that fear and confusion as a cold throbbing weight in the pit of my stomach.  I felt it during all those times of doubt and confusion during my childhood when my adults were hiding the emotions that were written across their faces plain as day.  Even recalling that sensation is enough to bring it back, and it is something I don't ever want my kids to experience.

It is hard because we don't want to damage our precious children.  How can we teach them without causing them undue stress?  How do we teach them to handle pain without overwhelming them?  The answer is by parenting through it.

Parenting through pain means answering our children when they ask "Why are you crying Mommy?".  It means giving them an answer and talking out how you are feeling and telling them why you feel that way in words and descriptions suitable to their age.  By putting your emotions in such terms, you will often find them easier for you to grasp as well.  It also means giving them some hope, and in doing so you give some to yourself.

I don't mean to brag, but I'm doing it right.  My daughter understands tragedy and she knows how to grieve.  We have achieved this by teaching her to recognize and accept her feelings.  My wife and I both have large extended families and as a result have attended several funerals over the years.  We've made it a point to allow Princess to attend the funerals, to say goodbye, and to take part in the togetherness shared by the family afterward.  The payoff has been a little girl who has never hidden her grief.  She knows that any questions she has about death will be answered, so she has never felt that frightened confusion many children feel when faced with questions of mortality.

Any teenager will tell you that parents want to know about their children's lives, every single detail.  So why do we teach them to hide when they are at their most vulnerable, their most influential?  One way or another, they are going to learn something by the way you handle your grief.  It is a matter of deciding whether you want to teach them to open up and talk about it, or to lock it away from themselves and everybody around them. 

On the Last Bastion of Original Storytelling

I'm going to start by talking a  little about my Mother-in-Law.  My M.I.L. and I get along quite well.  I find it sad that the relationship between a husband (or wife) and his in-laws is assumed to be one of conflict. One of the things I love about my mother in law is that, like me, she is a bibliophile.  Not only do we both love to read, but we both love many of the same genres and authors and have enjoyed several of the same titles.  It gives us another connection beyond that of our relationship by marriage.  Our interactions are made easier by the understanding that even if I hadn't married her daughter, we still could have been good friends.

This morning my M.I.L. and I were having breakfast and talking about some of the books we have read.  She asked me a very good question that I will relate to you.  Have you ever looked back and reread any of the books you enjoyed during you adolescence?  If you have then what did you think of them now that you've grown up?

It's been fourteen years since I graduated from high school, and I remember that I was not the bookworm that I am today.  It was during my college years that I was introduced to most of the books that have earned themselves a place in my mind.  A cursory perusal of my bookshelf offered a few titles that were representations of my youth.

I have a few volumes of Robert Aspirin's Myth Adventures series.  I remember first reading these during my salad days of the fifth grade.  I purchased them in recent years for some lighter fare to cleanse my palate between more adult offerings.  Even in my adulthood I found them to be very appealing with their good natured cons, tongue-in-cheek use of puns, and PG-13 prurience.  These books were written for a 10-year-old boy, and will always appeal to that Lost Boy inside me.  As my daughter (a voracious reader like her old man) approaches the same age it is my hope that she will find some amusement in the many dimensions explored by Aahz and Skeeve.

I also see two omnibuses from the fantasy world of Krynn: the annotated Chronicles and the Elven Nations Trilogy.  A good friend of mine suggested that the fantasy pulp novel was the male version of the female's Harlequin romance, which I found to be surprisingly astute.  I'm actually in the process of re-reading the E.N.T. for the first time since high school, and I am finding them to be far less satisfying this time around.  The storyline is more awkwardly paced, the character development more ham-fisted, and the use of deus ex machina more pronounced in resolving the problems.  I find it reminiscent of my own awkwardness during adolescence, and perhaps that is the reason that I connected with it at that time.  I remember rereading the Chronicles a year or so ago, and feeling similar sentiments to a greatly reduced degree, it could have been due to a better quality of writing, or the fact that my Chronicles volume contains notes from the author that provided some level of insight as to the process of creating the series.  Likely it was a combination of the two.

Finally there are a couple of Stephen King novels that I distinctly remember first picking up when I was fifteen or so.  Specifically It and The Stand.  I have reread both of these at least once since my daughter has been born.  What I find unique about King's work is that it elicits many of the same feelings that it did the first time around.  On one hand, there are no new disappointments when reading them as an adult.  There is something universal about his writing that speaks to both young adults and fully grown readers.  Furthermore, because I had read more of King's work when I reread both of these, I had gained a more understanding attitude toward some of the aspects of his writing that I found disappointing the first time around; specifically his difficulty in creating an ending as satisfying as the story that precedes it.  I had become accustomed to his foibles, and I still enjoyed his work in spite of them.

Strangely, none of the required reading of my youth has made it to my personal library, though there are many titles that would like to sample again.  I hope to once again have the chance to run with Cooper's Hawkeye.  I want to witness the struggle for power between Ralph and Jack Merridew.  I am even curious to see if my reading has matured enough to finally figure out what was the big deal about Catherine and Heathcliff's thwarted love.

I also find myself curious about some of the new generation of YA fiction writers that I see my daughter enjoying.  Those authors who are putting out a constant stream of the new order of serial fiction, who owe their entire livelihood to J.K. Rowling.  Some of the worlds they have put together are fascinating.  The Princess just finished the first volume in the 100 Cupboards series.  I hope to read it myself soon and perhaps use this medium to write a co-review that critiques the book from both an 8-year-old's and a 30-something's perspective.

So while some trips down memory lane have been far more rewarding than others, I still find myself with the occasional urge to revisit the worlds in which I once lost myself.  I must work to balance my literary palate and keep up a steady stream of new choices, there are too many great stories out there that I still have yet to read.

Sides of a Coin

We've been going through a period of loss in our life right now.  It started more than two years ago when my wife was laid off from her job.  We had to make some major changes to our lifestyle in order to make ends meet.  She has been looking for a job ever since, but all she has to show for it is a handful of preliminary interviews and no job offers.  Later that same year I agreed to move to the graveyard shift, after being compelled by the idea that it was the only way my career with the company would move forward.  My wife's unemployment benefits ran out about a year after her layoff, and despite all the hubbub about "extending benefits for the unemployed" in the political media, for some reason she has been unable to qualify for any extension since then.  In 2010 we accrued thousands of dollars worth of medical bills, some of which we are still paying off today.  After I had finally gotten used to the graveyard shift I was forced to move shifts again, despite never agreeing to do so.  On Thanksgiving of last year, I was fired from my job for an error in judgement.  The actual results of that error were that the customer was given the benefit of doubt and satisfied with the service they were given, and the casino that I was working for made an extra $25 in profit, but management chose to make an example and fire me anyway.  I have since not been able to find employment.  We have lived off the support of our family and government benefit, but it is running out.  I only hope we can keep the house until we are able to sell it, though selling right now may still cost us money we don't have.  I'm uncertain about what tomorrow may bring.


or


We've been going through a period of great gains in our life right now.  It all started about two years ago when my wife decided to make the most of being a stay at home mom.  Our daughter is thriving because of the extra time and support she has received.  We found creative budgeting solutions that work for our family.  I love to cook, and together we were able to design and develop recipes to feed the family and stay within our budget.  We've been very successful in recreating our favorite restaurant dishes at home for a fraction of what they cost when dining out. We were blessed last year with the birth of our son in March.  Our choice to use cloth diapers has quite literally saved us a fortune.  In November my wife started her blog, Obsessions of the Trophy Wife.  This has opened whole new avenues of social support with her fellow bloggers and followers, plus it has allowed her to obtain several new and fun products that she reviews for her readers.  In November I lost my job, but my upward mobility had stalled out and I was no longer able to see eye-to-eye with management.  I have enjoyed my newfound ability to spend time with all of my family.  I am seeing my son grow up firsthand.  For the first time in the history of our marriage I am able to help my daughter with her homework, have dinner with my family, tuck in the kids and go to bed with my wife on a daily basis.  We have been able to maintain our home thanks to the generosity of our family and friends.  We have been able to give more of our time to our church and there we found an amazing network of friends, not to mention a regular outlet for our musical talents (the first in years).  Our family and faith have both been strengthened as a result.  There have been some job prospects, both in our current location and in areas closer to our family, and our future looks very bright.  I can't wait to see what tomorrow will bring.




How do you look at your life?

The Wonders of a Wandering Imagination

My daughter is a character.  Actually she is dozens of them.

Her creativity astounds me.  She can create distinct and detailed stories, songs, or games from the whole cloth of her imagination.  I often wonder if she is somehow unable to do anything in a mundane fashion.  She takes everyday occurrences and makes them extraordinary.  She takes a mundane task and turns it into a huge production, simply because big productions are more interesting to her.  Her fantasies are compelling and filled with detail.  Please allow me to give you an example.

The other day she asked me to make her a paper airplane.  Luckily, an airplane is one of three things I know how to make out of a piece of paper.  The other two are a boat and a bow tie, but the latter is made with a dollar bill or similarly shaped piece of paper.  My paper airplane design was perfected when I was her age.  My birds are sturdy and can fly straight, so I was thrilled to have the opportunity to pass this knowledge on to the next generation.  Here is the basic design:

A nice looking piece of classroom contraband if I do say so myself.  I handed this off to the Princess, expecting her to toss it around the room for a few minutes until something else caught her fancy.  Little did I realize that even something as simple as a paper airplane needed a story to have a place in her world.  Within a few minutes I noticed some strange markings on the craft floating around our living room.

These are, of course, windows and doors for the convenience and comfort of the passengers of Stationary Airlines.  'What passengers?' you may ask.

These passengers.  Notice how some have chosen to pull the shade down, blacking out their window, and that the corresponding windows on the outside surface of the plane reflect their passenger's choice of shade or not.  

Now, nobody flies without a bag.  And even in this day and age of baggage fees many people still choose to check their luggage.  This is just as true for the two-dimensional airline passenger.

And she completed all of this before she started playing with it like a normal paper airplane.  It was these additions that made it interesting to her; that gave it that believability that made it fun on her level.

She also loves putting on a show whether or not she has an audience.  When we cook dinner together, it is never just a task to complete.  It is always a cooking show where she describes in great detail every step of the process.  She always gives her best performance and tries to teach her viewers how they can create similar meals in their own home.  Occasionally we manage to catch some of her antics on video, like this magic show:

What I find fascinating is the tiny details of her performance.  Where did she hear the phrase "teenie-weenie genie"?  I love how she reassures us that because she is wearing the hat, it must be empty, and the vaudevillian finish with the rabbit bouncing on her head after she has returned it to the hat.  


I don't know exactly what the world looks like to her, but she paints a pretty good picture of it for me.  And I'm happy she gets to experience it.

Sharing Our Home

"Guests, like fish, smell after three days." - Benjamin Franklin


Our most recent house-guest stayed with us for far longer than that, but in all fairness, she was kind of ripe when she arrived.  Piper is a year-old German Shepherd and Border Collie cross.  She is a beautiful dog, very smart, funny, friendly, active, and above all BIG.  We don't have a very big house.  On a normal day our house holds me, my wife, our Princess, the Chunky Monkey, and our mini American Eskimo, Layla.  The addition of Piper filled much of the remaining space in our home, and her personality filled what was left.

Border Collies need a job.  This one is able to hold down the rug while blocking the front door.  

We call that "dual-functionality".

Don't get me wrong.  Piper is a very good dog and she will remain a welcome guest in our home.  I think most of Piper's problems stem from the fact that, in her own mind, she is much smaller than in real life.  When she tries to squeeze between people and objects, stuff gets knocked down.  She has very little awareness of her own tail, or the path of destruction it leaves in her wake.  Bottom line: Piper is a LOT of dog.  Each of her breeds are known for their high intelligence and level of activity.  Most of the pictures we took of her show her calm or sleeping because we wanted something to remind ourselves that it does occasionally happen.

The reason that Piper will always remain welcome in our house is her personality.  Piper one of the friendliest dogs I have ever been around, and was absolutely great with the kids.  At one point during her stay, she had waled into the living room and was standing directly over where the Chunky Monkey was sitting (like I said, she is a big dog.)  So the Monkey decided to examine Piper's belly fur by grabbing two big handfuls.  At first Piper is oblivious, but then C.M. starts to lose his balance and goes down, but he doesn't let go of the fur.  Now I don't have much belly fur myself, but I can imagine that area is pretty sensitive.  Instead of growling or nipping at the area (where the baby's hands are still locked on) she just starts whimpering and looking at me as if to say, "are you going to just sit there or are you going to do something?!"  I went to her aid, and she learned a valuable lesson about curious babies. 

 All was soon forgiven.

Piper picked the Princess as her primary pestering point (I'm sorry... just... sorry).  Piper would bother her during meals, or while she was trying to read a book, or while doing her homework.  It seemed as if Piper recognized another "puppy" and didn't understand why she couldn't play all the time.  Still, it was the Princess who first voiced the question as to when Piper could stay with us again.

And The Tiny Little Angel Wings You Flew In On!

Valentine's Day is happening right now.

Again.

There are three distinct schools of thought on Valentine's Day.  Lots of people feel that it is a perfectly wonderful holiday, with lovers exchanging pretties and candy.  These are people who have realized that the fourteenth of February occurs at nearly the same time every year and, armed with their sibylline knowledge, procure that most rare and special of Valentine's Day gifts: the dinner reservation.  Jewelry merchants have inappropriate physical reactions when these first types come within 25 feet.  The second is that of the schoolchild.  These are people who view the holiday with some confusion.  Am I getting a gift or not?  If I get one am I then obligated to reciprocate?  Will some sort of hand-made coupon book suffice?  Just point these types toward the candy and they are happy.  This second camp is where yours truly has made his residence.  The third type are the haters.  They object to the holiday and everything it stands for, citing candy and card manufacturers as the shadowy overlords of the Pink & Red Mafia.  This is the realm of the jilted lover, the perpetually single, and the hordes of dedicated non-conformists.

At some point in my upbringing, an authority figure passed on the information that  the valentine "heart" shape that is so commonly used to decorate valentines and candy actually resembles a human organ, just not the heart.

I've never been a fan of those chalky little candy prostates ever since the revelation.

Since I've already confessed to being somewhat intimidated and confused by the holiday, it is no wonder that my Trophy Wife is not a big fan of the holiday either.  I am disappointed by this, since I feel that there is probably some grand scheme that I could pull off in order to forever change her mind about Valentine's Day.  We've celebrated with some little dates in the past, taken in our share of romantic comedies, and dipped a crap-ton of strawberries into an ocean of chocolate.  I really feel that what makes this holiday feel awkward for both of us is that all of the goods, events, and activities associated with the day doesn't enhance the love that we've shared for the past decade.  What is the point of putting chrome plating on a perfectly cut diamond?  I don't want somebody else to put words in my mouth for any reason, especially not the words I want to share with the most important person in my world.  Am I less in love with my wife because I don't buy the goofy cards, the factory chocolate, or the overpriced dying flowers?  Absolutely not!

I'll spend this Valentine's Day the same way I spent the day before, and the same way I'll spend tomorrow.  I'll enjoy my time with my wife and our kids, get some work done around the house, make a nice dinner, and enjoy a nice evening at home.  The only difference is that I will make a point to step outside myself and look at the love my wife and I share, to revel in the awesome magnitude of it, to give a silent recitation of thanks for the circumstances that brought us together, and to appreciate how we have maintained a passionate yet steadfast devotion to one another throughout all we have faced together.

I love you.

But You Should Have Seen The Other Guy

The Chunky Monkey can move!  

We've known ever since he was in the womb that this little man wouldn't be satisfied to stay still, but his progress in terms of locomotion and velocity has been remarkable.  He started crawling a few days before last Halloween when he was seven months old.  By eight months old he started pulling himself up on objects.  This is actually pretty standard development for a baby, but when his sister was the same age, she was content to sit still.  The Princess was that baby that you could put down and know with reasonable certainty that she would remain where she was placed until you came back and moved her again.  So his normal development is remarkable to me.

When he started to pull himself to a standing position, he would only do so in the bathtub.  To this day his favorite bath-time game is Daddy wants you to sit down NOW!, though For the love of God, PLEASE stop drinking the bathwater! remains a close runner-up.

Mommy had to take that picture.  You can see Daddy's arm readied in case of a slippery grip.  

For a while he only wanted to stand while in the bathtub, but nothing lasts very long when they're that age.  All too soon he was pulling himself up on his toys, the furniture, and the legs of taller people.  Now he is letting go once he gets up there, enjoying a few seconds of unsupported standing glory before gravity returns him to his usual altitude.  Sometimes he meets a few obstacles on his way back down, which has given him the look of a prizefighter.

Although I have no idea where he learned that world weary stare,  I think its safe to say that this photograph was taken just prior to naptime. 

The silver lining in my son's self-inflicted facial contusions is that they all occur on the left side of his face.  If he is trying to catch himself with his left hand it may be that he is left-hand-dominant.  If that is the case his sinister condition will give him a leg up should he follow a career in professional baseball.  It's worth a shot anyway.

Soon he will be walking, running, climbing trees and chasing the dog.  I imagine I'll see several more bruises in the future, though I don't imagine they will work as much of a deterrent. At least I'll get my exercise trying to keep up.

The Obligatory Super Bowl Post

Like most Daddys in America, I watched Sunday's big game.  I'll let the sports bloggers give in-depth discussion and opinions on that.  Here is the run-down from my point of view.

Christina Aguilara's remix of the our national anthem went over like a fart in an elevator.

The Packers won by capitalizing off of turnovers.

Aaron Rodgers emerged from Favre's shadow, proving himself to be as good as Bret ever was, probably better.

But the big winner of the night was Axl Rose, who's come-from behind victory of the Guns n' Roses breakup happened about halfway through a spectacularly horrendous halftime show.

My wife has never been a fan of the Super Bowl.  Her birthday falls on January 30 so she has always felt an animosity toward an event that overshadowed her special day throughout her childhood.  While in previous years I would always be working during the game, this year was the first that the game was shown in our household.  Luckily the NFL expanded the postseason in 2002, so my wife could expect her birthday to receive the attention it deserves, though it rarely does.

Looking toward the future, I would like the Super Bowl to become an event at our home. My daughter has a pretty good history of enjoying "masculine" activities with daddy.  She likes watching hockey games and can always be counted on to go fishing.  I'm not sure I can get her interested in football, but it's worth a shot.  Going by my son's personality right now, I expect him to be both an athlete and a fan, but who knows?  All I know is I have some hot wing recipes and I want to try them out.

Blow, Blow Thou Winter Wind

Here in the Midwest we are smack in the middle of the gray days of winter.  These are the days when a single snowflake drifting toward the ground inspires a child's mind to dreams of speeding down the nearest hill with wanton disregard for personal safety.  Fantasies of ruby cheeked glee while narrowly missing a wide array of obstacles spring to mind with every ominous weather report.  Sledding is quite possibly the greatest thing that Old Man Winter has to offer.  At least that's how I remember it.

I remember two distinct sledding hills from when I was growing up.  There were others, but these were the best.

The first one I remember was the front yard of the house next door to mine.  I lived in that house for seven years and in that time there were two owners.  Both of them were very nice about letting the neighborhood kids use their awesome hill.  On the left side of the hill there was a row of huge juniper bushes that, when covered with snow, made deep and mysterious forts where we plotted various campaigns and stored the necessary ammo to pull off the most daring of maneuvers.  On the right stood the house itself.  At the bottom of the hill stood a line of enormous Poplar trees, ready to receive the unworthy sledder in their painfully unforgiving embrace.  There was a three-foot opening between the trees, which would afford us another few seconds to eject before colliding with a fence that ran the length of the hill.  All in all there was perhaps forty feet of sledding glory to be obtained with each run.  Long before snowboarding became popular I remember standing upright on my toboggan and braving the slopes.  I hear that today the pros strap themselves to their boards.  Bunch of sissies, the lot of them.

The next was in the same neighborhood, about a half mile away from my house.  This was where the neighborhood kids would congregate to risk our collective skins for a few moments of pure adrenaline.  It was an empty lot between two houses, behind which was an open common area.  The hill was wide and steep and free of perilous obstacles, which meant we had to make our own.  A few logs stolen from some poor sap's woodpile can be covered in hard-packed snow and makes for an excellent ramp.  With superb aim, an expert could catch a foot or two of air, but it felt like yards when you hit it and miles when you reacquainted yourself with the hard, hard ground.  There number of children using the slope could always be figured by adding a dozen or so to the maximum number of kids the hill could safely accommodate, so if we were unable to build our obstacles, we could always be them.

I hope that someday my children will have as much fun sledding as I did when I was growing up.  My daughter is already beginning to show interest in the activity, but right now she lacks a certain disregard for her own safety.  We have a gentle slope in our backyard that she practices on from time to time, and she seems to enjoy it and is starting to seek greater thrills while on the slopes.  Despite his young age, my son already appears to have a taste for adventure.  So I imagine in a few years I will be trying to pull him back from the brink of self-injury rather than egg him on as I do with my daughter.  Either way, my days of downhill glory may be behind me, but I can still pass on some tips and tricks to my little ones.

Just don't tell their mother.

I'm not uncool, I'm just out of fashion right now.

I've had a longstanding pet peeve for some time now.  By "some time" I mean it began about ten seconds after I became a parent.  There seems to be a complete inability in Hollywood to write a realistic father character.  Nearly every "Dad" character on television is a complete idiot.  They are all completely out of touch with their families.  They are only motivated by sex, food, beer, sports, gadgets, or the chance to be lazy.  They all manage to ignore their wife and embarrass their children.  Fathers with daughters are all awkward and overprotective.  But at least the daughters fare better than the sons, who either have a big idiot trying to be their pal instead of a real parent or are ignored completely.  Homer Simpson was supposed to be a caricature of all the male foibles, but he has instead become the basis for nearly every male character on television or movies today.

I understand that the life of an average father would not make for an entertaining movie or television show.  I'm not so naive as to believe I should be able to turn on the television and find a reflection of myself.  But I do believe that I should be able to find at least one male parent character with which I can identify on at least a few minor points.  Am I so unique that my actions and beliefs are completely alien to society at large?

It did not used to be so.  Despite their current status as a modern-era joke, I find that the fathers made famous by Bill Cosby, Alan Thicke, and even Bob Saget to be a more realistic representation of the average father's daily life, if only slightly so.

Here are a few pointers for any budding screenwriters out there:

• A real dad can change a diaper, however foul, without having to choke back vomit.
• A real dad may be a sports fan, but he wouldn't hurt his wife's or children's feelings in order to somehow "catch the big game" (see anniversaries, school plays, dance recitals, etc.)
• A real dad can talk to his daughter about any issue (even "girl stuff") and while Mom will likely be included, she will not have to handle it alone.
• A real dad doesn't turn into a drooling idiot when presented with either an attractive woman or the possibility of actual sex.
• A real dad may make corny jokes, or embarrass their family, but it is not a fundamental building block of their entire way of thinking.
• A real dad would not completely lose it if he found his son playing with a doll, or showing off a dance move, or some other "feminine" action.
• A real dad can sit through an opera, or a ballet, or some other event he attends purely for his wife's enjoyment, without making an ass of himself.
• A real dad, when asked by his wife how she looks in an outfit, can look at his wife, assess what is right and wrong with the outfit, and give her a helpful answer without throwing a temper tantrum or clutching his collar in a nervous sweat.

 Even if I were a gay man trying to raise a child, I'd still be pissed at how screenwriters portray fathers.  As far as Hollywood is concerned, gay fathers turn into screeching pools of ineptitude at the slightest issue with their children.  While the writers are attempting to be "forward-thinking" and "open-minded" they still manage to pander to the archaic stereotype "queer".

Commercials, though, are the worst.  If I were to boycott every product that portrayed "Dad" as a lummox and source of all the family tribulation I would have to learn to live without painkillers, cleaning products, and a whole slew of household goods.

I know I'm not alone.  I know there are other great dads out there that love to spend time with their families and can communicate with their wives as well as their children.  I'm just saying that it would be nice to see one on TV once in awhile.

A Lady of Breeding and Refinement

I have always been fascinated by the way my daughter's mind works.  She is now eight years old, which means that my wife and I are now facing the fact that we must give over some of the influence that we have enjoyed these past years to the outside forces of teachers, school friends, television, and of course the internet.  This is not something that we will relinquish without a fight, although we recognize and take some pride in that fact that the choices she now makes reflect the quality of our parenting over the years.  And she has not let us down.

My wife and I are both trained musicians, but our tastes in music differ greatly.  We manage to agree on a few artists, enough so that we can listen to the radio together without any major meltdowns.  We also strive to influence our daughter's tastes in music.

 

We have tried to influence her tastes before.  As a baby and toddler, we did not dress her in pink.  My wife is a somewhat reformed tomboy herself and wanted to pass that on to our little girl.  However, when she was old enough to communicate her own choices on clothing and decorations we found ourselves inundated with goods and clothing in every shade of pink imaginable.  Her room right now is enough to strike a unicorn blind.  When asked about her choice in hues, she gave an answer as profound as it is innocent: "Pink makes me happy."  And as her father, that's enough for me.

Which brings me to the point of this post.

I like recurring themes in blogs.  A friend of mine over at the professional appreciator frequently posts his "Top 10 Songs of the Moment" which I often use as a compass for groups I should listen to.  His taste in music is pretty similar to mine.  So I'm stealing his idea and making it my own.  Since this is a blog about parenting and family, the music selections will be my Princess's, not mine.

My iPod contains some 7000+ songs at the moment, so what Princess and I decided to do was listen to music together, and she would have veto power over any song she didn't like.  So we put on some headphones together, hit "shuffle all songs" and started listening. Here are the first ten songs she liked, and my comments.

Princess's Top 10 of the Moment 1/24/10

Artist | Title | Album

#1 Moxy Früvous | River Valley | Bargainville

I was introduced this this little known Canadian group during a high-school trip to North Dakota.  I like their harmonies and their humor.  For those who don't know their style, think of early work by Barenaked Ladies.

#2 Budapest Symphony Orchestra | Ride of the Valkyries | Watchmen Soundtrack

I was kind of proud that she picked one of my few orchestral pieces.  She told me that she recognized it from a video game she has.

#3 Lauryn Hill | Tell Him |  The Mis-Education of Lauryn Hill

I got this CD in college from one of those "Buy 12 for $1" record company deals.  I forgot to send this one back in time.  

#4  Kidz Bop Kids | Girlfriend | Kidz Bop 12

With a spot of particularly effective manipulation my Princess coerced me into obtaining the Kidz Bop musical anthology.  For those who are unfamiliar with Avril Levigne's Girlfriend it contains such poetic lines as, She's like, so "whatever".

#5 Pulp | Cocaine Socialism | This is Hardcore (Deluxe Edition bonus disc)

Pulp is a really excellent brit-pop band who hit their stride in the 90's but went on hiatus in 2003.  I was very pleasantly surprised by my Princess's inclusion of this song.

 #6 Taylor Swift | Forever and Always | Fearless

Don't judge me.

#7 Big & Rich | Filthy Rich | Comin' To Your City

My wife is more of a country music fan than I am, but I like some of their stuff too.  Though Horse of a Different Color was by far their best album.

#8 The Dixie Chicks | Godspeed | Home

One of the sweetest lullabies ever written.  I can't help it, I'm kind of a big old softie where this song is concerned. 

#9 Elton John | Your Song | The Very Best of Elton John

This is just a pleasant song.  I defy you to argue that point.

#10 Elton John | Rocket Man | The Very Best of Elton John

I only have this one EJ album, so I was somewhat surprised to hear two songs from it.

So all in all I think Princess did pretty well for her first time out.  She isn't much of a hard rocker, but then anybody who knows her wouldn't be surprised by that fact.  Luckily, I don't have any Jonas Brothers music on my iPod, otherwise that would have definitely dominated this list.  And for the record, during the process of picking out the 10 songs for this list, 114 songs were vetoed.

This was a lot of fun, so you'll probably see another top 10 list from the Princess soon.

What The Boy Wants, The Boy Gets

My son is like an onion.  Oftentimes, peeling back an outer covering exposes an outsider to some offensive vapors.  However, right now I am focusing on the fact that he is a man of many layers; tiny, adorable layers.  For example, sometimes he is content to cuddle in with Mommy or Daddy while we make various cooing noises over his hair, ears, eyes, or whatever aspect of his being captures our attention.  But in the span of a hummingbird’s heartbeat, his mood will change to that of an uninterested emperor and woe to the jester that is too slow to inspire his whimsy.  One of the ways he differs from his older sister is his range of emotion and the speed at which he traverses that range.  This has led to an ongoing search for various activities and distractions.

His favorite activities can be summed up in one category:  grabbing things that are fragile, expensive, or dangerous and firing off a million-dollar smile as Mommy, Daddy, Sister, and sometimes the dog scramble to get it before he breaks, ruins, or swallows it.

I should note that, out of all of our family members, he is the only one who enjoys this pastime.

Like all parents, I am often called upon to entertain and enrich our baby’s young life.  And like all parents, I would settle for five minutes of solid distraction.  He loves colors and music, so we will often find videos on YouTube and watch them together.  It was during one of those sessions that I was searching for music cartoons and came across this:

This has become my son’s favorite thing ever.  He dances.  He sings along.  He LOVES this video.

Apparently this Gummibär has been a bona-fide internet phenomenon since its debut in 2007.  That song alone has been viewed nearly sixty million times.  All the songs by this bear are in the same house/techno style and have seen similar popularity on YouTube. 

I’m not sure how to feel about it.  I have a very high opinion of my own tastes in music, and I’ve tried to pass them on to my children.  (Note to parents: this is a difficult battle and you will never approve of all the music your children love.  After all, compare your tastes to that of your parents.)  I know this is throwaway bubblegum phenomenon but he loves it so much and is absolutely adorable to watch while he dances along.

I suppose the best I can hope for is to not find myself humming the song hours later.

Polite Society Requires a Welcome and Introduction

Welcome!

This is my first foray into the art of the modern blog, and I must admit that my excitement is liberally seasoned with trepidation.  Creating something out of nothing is tough, and I admire those who do so and make it look easy.  My plan is to use this blog to relate my experiences and observations on the multi-faceted odyssey of fatherhood.  I will be the primary writer for this blog, so here is a brief introduction.

Here are my daddy credentials.

At the time of this posting I am the father of an eight-year-old girl and a ten-month-old boy.  I have been married for eight years to an amazing woman.  We are both South Dakota expatriates living in the sprawling (to us) metropolis of Omaha, Nebraska. My wife posts her own chronicle of our life at Obsessions of the Trophy Wife.   For myself, I am an avid appreciator of music and fiction, an honest fisherman, and an incorrigible teller of tales.  My daughter is a burgeoning drama queen with a heart of purest gold.  My son is a firecracker, a jester with the soul of an explorer.

An internal voice is shouting that I have nothing to contribute to the unfathomable ocean of blogs available to the internet surfer.

Touché

I suppose I knew that when I started typing this post, and it didn’t stop me then. There are stories just waiting to be told.  These stories are worth telling. I’ll submit my own and pass along others worth sharing.  As for their readability, I’ll let you be the judge.

So here we are the reader and the writer, together embarking on what will hopefully be an exciting and enlightening journey.  I would love for this to become interactive.  I like hearing the questions of other parents and I’ll certainly have some of my own, so feel free to make good use of the options for feedback.  Otherwise the only feedback will come from my wife.  However, once I give her a detailed explanation of how to comment, my mom will make her voice heard as well.

Hopefully we’ll all have some laughs along the way.