Actually, we do. This particular debate was driven home rather forcefully of late when James (my youngest) came home with a series of scabby spots all over him. Uh oh. Looks like the Chicken Pox, says…well…everyone. However, three years ago his mother and I shelled out for the Chicken Pox Vaccine. So…WTF? Granted, it was a mild case, 23 spots in all, but it still caused us to quiz the doctor who shrugged and told us that 20% of recipients are immune to the vaccine and poor James just happened to be one of them. Of course, upon hearing the news everyone within earshot of the situations pulled pin and lobbed their opinions at us; a full spectrum of, “Vaccines are necessary,” to “See, vaccines don’t do anything,” right down to “They’re evil, I tell ya!. Eeeeviiillll!”
So, what’s a dad to do? Simple, trust in logic. Try and block out those helpful individuals who always seem to “know a guy who knows a guy who had a kid who…” That’s hardly scientific evidence. Also try and avoid the new age group who sneers at medical procedures that have been practiced for centuries and have raised life expectancy to unprecedented highs. Most vaccines these days aren’t given as accessories. These things are deemed necessary for a reason. You want your kid to go to school? Vaccinate. Daycare? Vaccinate. Community programs? Same goes. Sure these things might not work for some individuals. My son was certainly one of them and, whereas I was irked, I still understand why these things were created in the first place. Most vaccines given under the age of three were designed not just to help the individual but also to help the population at large. In event of an outbreak it helps to have vast segments of your population who might be immune, not just for their own benefit but also for those who might not be immune who live in proximity. The logic goes something like this. If people in town (a) are infected and not vaccinated and people in town (b) are vaccinated then there ‘s a good chance that might block the spread of said virus to town (c) who might also not be vaccinated. In short, more of your population has a better chance of living longer. Ah well, that’s my rant for today. I should probably cut things short with it being Valentines Day and all.
Oh, on a side note, “Enough with the snow already!” Some of these drifts are getting taller than I am. Another Valentines day in the trenches…..sigh.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Post-Christmas Mortem
Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow.
Ow.
Ow.
Well that was an experience. What did we learn once the last of the turkey was eaten and the last"ho" finally fell silent? Well, let's recap shall we?
- It's possible to overplan. I'd been doing my shopping since July. Why? I didn't want to be one of those parents who shops for their kids at the last minute when the shelves are bare. Did the boys get what they wanted? Hell, yeah. The problem? Somehow I forgot to turn off the "shop" function on my brain's desktop. My wallet's still screaming;
- I hate wrapping;
- Even if you think you have things together take the week before Christmas off. Why? Things will invariably NOT be that together. Also, (and this is an important one), if you're the last guy at the office for the season it means that everyone (and I mean everyone) above you on the food chain will leave their work on your desk to be done before you go. Trust me. On the first day of Christmas...flee. "First in, last out," works for the Paras. It doesn't do jack for the office environment;
- Ottawa weather comes in a wide variety of "suck". Rain. Snow. Cold. Rain and snow with cold. Forget the canary in the coal mine. You know something's up when your Christmas tree is flash frozen;
- R2D2 prefers women. Well heck, who doesn't? However, what I am referring to is the Hasbro interactive droid variety. Tons of fun for the family. (Seriously). However, apparently he doesn't do deep and booming voices. I dunno, maybe too many flashbacks regarding sithlords. Jen can make him dance (literally) and the boys had a great time playing hide-and-seek with him in the dark (he's got IR capabilities. He just can't do stairs). But you think he'll fetch me a drink? Hah. Speaking of which;
- Mulled Wine helps. A huge shout out to Chris and kin in Geneva for making this one a possibility. One of the highpoints of the season was making a batch or two of "Vin Chaud" with Little Penguin Shiraz. Yum;
- Clenched jaws invariably lead to grinding teeth which invariably lead to emergency dentist visits and long bouts of oral agony.
Still, I shouldn’t kvetch too loudly now that my teeth are nearly healed. Christmas itself was a success. The family had a great time. They boys had a blast and for a time at least there was peace at least on this small speck of the Earth and good will to man, woman, child and droid alike. Ah well. Whatever doesn't kill you, right? Anyway, I hear Easter's coming early this year.
Break out the body armour.
B.
Gah! Where did the month go?!
So here I am at the end of January wondering where the month went. Wow. And here I thought Christmas had been a handful. Yikes. Still, just wanted to let folks know that I was still alive and kicking. However, between being buried under a ton of work, sick kids, sick me and court marshalling the Christmas tree things have been rather packed of late. But don't worry. We're all still here and you can look forward to many new posts in the near future including:
- Post Christmas post mortem;
- Vaccines? We don't need no stinkin' vaccines;
- Holidays and Kids: Parental 'Mine' Clearance.
Monday, December 24, 2007
Merry Christmas!
To All of You,
A Merry Christmas and a promise from me to you that I will post again soon. However, I hope that in your quiet moments that you will remember to raise a glass to those less fortunate or who cannot be home this Christmas. Ladies and Gentlemen, a toast;
"To Absent Friends and Fallen Comrades..."
Merry Christmas.
B.
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
My Adventures Amongst the Pygmies of Eastern Ontario
Whoo. It's been a while. Work's going nuts and the house is still torn apart with the finishing touches on the hardwood floors not quite finishing as fast as I'd like. Add that to the Christmas rush and I've had to cancel my daily "lung-filling-with-oxygen-for-prolonged consciousness" exercises in favour of the less recommended "pray-for-oxygen-through-osmosis-before-you-pass-out" school of time management. Still, if I'm going to rant I should be thorough. So, without further ado, I give you....
My Adventures Amongst the Pygmies of Eastern Ontario
Like most parents, I’m always amazed at how fast my kids grow up. As adults we get so used to owning the same articles of clothing for years on end it can sometimes baffle us when we stare at the pajamas that fit our kids just last month and realize that they can now barely get their feet through the cuffs. Still, for most of us this is a normal part of having children and for many a quick trip to the local Walmart, (or Gymboree in my case, a big shout out for Jamie’s Mom!) a quick dip in the bank account and we can hit the snooze alarm on that particular slice of life-awareness for another three months.
Well, most of us can, at any rate. For any who know me, they are well used to the minor eclipse that occurs on even the sunniest days when I’m around. At 6’8’’ I tend to block a great deal of ambient light whenever I come over to chat (and depending on my angle of approach). For any who don’t know me the effect can be quite off-putting and I have actually had people stifle a small scream as they whip out of the elevator only to be confronted by my sternum at eye-level. Living, as I do, in a region of Canada that is literally swarming with the under 5’10’’ set, I do worry as to how my children will cope as they get older. Though my own parents were of normal height it has already become quite obvious that my own size seems to be an evolutionary trait that my children have inherited. Both of them come in at near the top of their class in overall height and already wear two to three sizes above their age range in clothing.
And here, then, is the crux of my concern. Like their dear old dad there will come a time when their ability to find clothes in their size will be put to the test. Consider, I can walk into any shopping mall in this city and be pretty much guaranteed that not a single article of clothing in there will fit me properly. Now, think about that for a second. Walk into the largest mall you can get to. Look down the rank upon rank of clothing shops and try to imagine for a moment that nothing they sell, absolutely nothing, is going to fit. Not the socks, shoes, ties, jeans, whatever. Zero. Nada. Need to replace a shirt? Too bad. Shoes wearing out? Oh well. Winter coming? Sucks to be you. For some reason despite the fact that the population of the rest of Canada seems to be growing at a normal rate the population of Ottawa-Carleton continues to remain, well, stunted, or at the very least they tend to lag behind the national average. And don’t even get me started on what passes for selection in the stores of this backwater outpost we call a capital.
Unfortunately, the infrastructure that serves the local "wee folk" hasn’t evolved much either in the decades I've spent here. Yesterday I watched as the boots of my youngest son brushed against the floor of the bus and I immediately realized that in another year or so his leg swinging days on seats that are too big for him will be gone forever. A few years after that he’ll be wedged into the bus seats at a perpetual back-torquing 45 degree angle, stuck in a spot that was designed for someone who never grew past 5’6’’. This realization regarding the average height of the denizens of Ottawa-Carleton causes an even bigger mystery. How, by all that's holy, with such a short population, do the denizens of this town manage to take up an entire sidewalk. There isn’t a day that goes past when I’m not sidestepping or turning profile to squeeze past one of the many barreling dwarves that seemingly make up the majority of the population of Ottawa's downtown core.
Still, the times they are a’changin’ (if albeit in a glacial way). I have noticed in the past few years a slow trickle of people more my own height poking up above the sea of heads like a humpback surfacing for air. The first few times I was amazed. It’s like being told you’re an endangered species all your life and then realizing that you aren’t the only one of your kind left. Now, it’s just kinda cool not having to be introduced to people’s bald spots before I can look them in the face. As for my kids, hopefully by the time they’re grown Ottawa will have progressed to where the rest of the planet was twenty years ago and they won’t feel quite as awkward. Still, given the issues I found with finding clothes that fit, and knowing that there are only a handful of shops in the entire city that carry my size in, well, anything, I’m halfway tempted to start stocking up on adult clothing for them now to avoid the rush.
My Adventures Amongst the Pygmies of Eastern Ontario
Like most parents, I’m always amazed at how fast my kids grow up. As adults we get so used to owning the same articles of clothing for years on end it can sometimes baffle us when we stare at the pajamas that fit our kids just last month and realize that they can now barely get their feet through the cuffs. Still, for most of us this is a normal part of having children and for many a quick trip to the local Walmart, (or Gymboree in my case, a big shout out for Jamie’s Mom!) a quick dip in the bank account and we can hit the snooze alarm on that particular slice of life-awareness for another three months.
Well, most of us can, at any rate. For any who know me, they are well used to the minor eclipse that occurs on even the sunniest days when I’m around. At 6’8’’ I tend to block a great deal of ambient light whenever I come over to chat (and depending on my angle of approach). For any who don’t know me the effect can be quite off-putting and I have actually had people stifle a small scream as they whip out of the elevator only to be confronted by my sternum at eye-level. Living, as I do, in a region of Canada that is literally swarming with the under 5’10’’ set, I do worry as to how my children will cope as they get older. Though my own parents were of normal height it has already become quite obvious that my own size seems to be an evolutionary trait that my children have inherited. Both of them come in at near the top of their class in overall height and already wear two to three sizes above their age range in clothing.
And here, then, is the crux of my concern. Like their dear old dad there will come a time when their ability to find clothes in their size will be put to the test. Consider, I can walk into any shopping mall in this city and be pretty much guaranteed that not a single article of clothing in there will fit me properly. Now, think about that for a second. Walk into the largest mall you can get to. Look down the rank upon rank of clothing shops and try to imagine for a moment that nothing they sell, absolutely nothing, is going to fit. Not the socks, shoes, ties, jeans, whatever. Zero. Nada. Need to replace a shirt? Too bad. Shoes wearing out? Oh well. Winter coming? Sucks to be you. For some reason despite the fact that the population of the rest of Canada seems to be growing at a normal rate the population of Ottawa-Carleton continues to remain, well, stunted, or at the very least they tend to lag behind the national average. And don’t even get me started on what passes for selection in the stores of this backwater outpost we call a capital.
Unfortunately, the infrastructure that serves the local "wee folk" hasn’t evolved much either in the decades I've spent here. Yesterday I watched as the boots of my youngest son brushed against the floor of the bus and I immediately realized that in another year or so his leg swinging days on seats that are too big for him will be gone forever. A few years after that he’ll be wedged into the bus seats at a perpetual back-torquing 45 degree angle, stuck in a spot that was designed for someone who never grew past 5’6’’. This realization regarding the average height of the denizens of Ottawa-Carleton causes an even bigger mystery. How, by all that's holy, with such a short population, do the denizens of this town manage to take up an entire sidewalk. There isn’t a day that goes past when I’m not sidestepping or turning profile to squeeze past one of the many barreling dwarves that seemingly make up the majority of the population of Ottawa's downtown core.
Still, the times they are a’changin’ (if albeit in a glacial way). I have noticed in the past few years a slow trickle of people more my own height poking up above the sea of heads like a humpback surfacing for air. The first few times I was amazed. It’s like being told you’re an endangered species all your life and then realizing that you aren’t the only one of your kind left. Now, it’s just kinda cool not having to be introduced to people’s bald spots before I can look them in the face. As for my kids, hopefully by the time they’re grown Ottawa will have progressed to where the rest of the planet was twenty years ago and they won’t feel quite as awkward. Still, given the issues I found with finding clothes that fit, and knowing that there are only a handful of shops in the entire city that carry my size in, well, anything, I’m halfway tempted to start stocking up on adult clothing for them now to avoid the rush.
Sunday, November 18, 2007
Sleep Deprivation
Ah, the bread and butter of parenting. Whether you're up with a colicky baby at midnight, changing your child’s sheets at three in the morning or waiting up for your teenage daughter to get home while you watch the sun claw its way into the Eastern sky; if you're a parent you've been there. Let's face it, if you've got a little one in the house the chances of you getting a good night's sleep are, at best, a coin toss.
So how do we cope? For all you new parents out there I'd say get yourself acclimatized and fast. You don't want this particular aspect of parenting sneaking up on you unaware. Oh sure, lots of books and experts will tell you to get your rest when you can. Good advice. However, before you reach that stage it's a good idea to figure out not only how you'll react to acute sleep deprivation but how to remain functional between those night time naps. Moreover, if you know there's a good chance you'll be up at night prep your environment beforehand. If you're going to be doing midnight feedings prep the bottles of similac before you rack out. Likewise, if you even suspect your child might be ill lay down a towel under them or stash a bucket within easy reach of the bed just on the off chance you wake up to the unique sound of your child's gag reflex kicking in. The few seconds you'll save knowing where that particular vomit receptacle is might just net you a few extra minutes sleep later on instead of being stuck changing some very funky smelling Dora sheets.
Seriously, being prepared in this respect does wonders for that whole long-term-child-survivability thing. For me, I found the best way for me to learn this particular skillset was through military service. The thinking goes something like this: If you can handle live ammunition and enough explosives to stop a small armoured vehicle on two days without sleep, chances are you can walk the floor with a croupy child at three in the morning and remain calm. Is it hard? Hell, yeah. Why do you think the national average birth rate is dropping. Somebody talked. However, if you do find yourself facing imminent parenthood the secret is don't panic. For all you new parents out there, or parents to be, I can tell you this. You do get used to it. Last weekend I flew back from overseas. Travel time? 21 hours with no sleep stuck in one economy class seat after another with a bunch of drunken Germans seated behind me providing my soundtrack for the flight. When I came home I prepared dinner, gave my son a bath, read him stories and put him to bed and though things got kind of blurry towards the end at least I managed to cover the basics (at least I think I did). Bottom line? It's doable. Besides, just think of when your own kids are grown. They, too, will get to see that half-mad twinkle in your eye when they mention how THEIR kids are keeping them up at night. Remember, that crazed giggle you hear from your parents whenever you kvetch about how tired you are? Now at least you know what caused it.
A couple more pictures from Geneva:
Me and Chateau Chillon
So how do we cope? For all you new parents out there I'd say get yourself acclimatized and fast. You don't want this particular aspect of parenting sneaking up on you unaware. Oh sure, lots of books and experts will tell you to get your rest when you can. Good advice. However, before you reach that stage it's a good idea to figure out not only how you'll react to acute sleep deprivation but how to remain functional between those night time naps. Moreover, if you know there's a good chance you'll be up at night prep your environment beforehand. If you're going to be doing midnight feedings prep the bottles of similac before you rack out. Likewise, if you even suspect your child might be ill lay down a towel under them or stash a bucket within easy reach of the bed just on the off chance you wake up to the unique sound of your child's gag reflex kicking in. The few seconds you'll save knowing where that particular vomit receptacle is might just net you a few extra minutes sleep later on instead of being stuck changing some very funky smelling Dora sheets.
Seriously, being prepared in this respect does wonders for that whole long-term-child-survivability thing. For me, I found the best way for me to learn this particular skillset was through military service. The thinking goes something like this: If you can handle live ammunition and enough explosives to stop a small armoured vehicle on two days without sleep, chances are you can walk the floor with a croupy child at three in the morning and remain calm. Is it hard? Hell, yeah. Why do you think the national average birth rate is dropping. Somebody talked. However, if you do find yourself facing imminent parenthood the secret is don't panic. For all you new parents out there, or parents to be, I can tell you this. You do get used to it. Last weekend I flew back from overseas. Travel time? 21 hours with no sleep stuck in one economy class seat after another with a bunch of drunken Germans seated behind me providing my soundtrack for the flight. When I came home I prepared dinner, gave my son a bath, read him stories and put him to bed and though things got kind of blurry towards the end at least I managed to cover the basics (at least I think I did). Bottom line? It's doable. Besides, just think of when your own kids are grown. They, too, will get to see that half-mad twinkle in your eye when they mention how THEIR kids are keeping them up at night. Remember, that crazed giggle you hear from your parents whenever you kvetch about how tired you are? Now at least you know what caused it.
A couple more pictures from Geneva:
Me and Chateau Chillon
Friday, November 9, 2007
Das ist einer neue Deutcher Blogger....
Got im Himmel! Apparently if you try to blog from a foreign country “blogger” helpfully tries to go native by giving you all local language on your blog option buttons (in this case, German). Wunderbar!
So, here I am three days into my Geneva adventure, 1 am local time, and rather than sleeping, I'm blogging. Yes kids, daddy's crazy, go get the shotgun. Speaking of kids, that's what this one's going to be about. Well, d’uh. More specifically, it's about how to deal with the steady bleeding from that which makes up your soul when you realize you're on the other side of the planet from your kids. Now many of you would simply raise a glass, sit back and say, "like this!" before downing your Margarita, and that's ok for some. Unfortunately, I'm not wired that way. Proof? I just spent 200 Francs on gifts for my kids to help stem the bleeding. Ah, guilt! It could drive an entire tourism based economy. (Heck it worked for diamonds.) But I digress. Apart from meals the most I've bought for myself is a newspaper. And this is what I'm on about. How do you keep from missing your kids when they are your raison d’etre? Well, thanks to my experience as a part time dad to my eldest, I've gotten a lot of practice in. So what to do?
In ottawa Jamie wear's his MP3 player on the bus. In Geneva...well...guess he wouldn't need one.
Lucas and Michael challenging each other to a game of Chess.
So, here I am three days into my Geneva adventure, 1 am local time, and rather than sleeping, I'm blogging. Yes kids, daddy's crazy, go get the shotgun. Speaking of kids, that's what this one's going to be about. Well, d’uh. More specifically, it's about how to deal with the steady bleeding from that which makes up your soul when you realize you're on the other side of the planet from your kids. Now many of you would simply raise a glass, sit back and say, "like this!" before downing your Margarita, and that's ok for some. Unfortunately, I'm not wired that way. Proof? I just spent 200 Francs on gifts for my kids to help stem the bleeding. Ah, guilt! It could drive an entire tourism based economy. (Heck it worked for diamonds.) But I digress. Apart from meals the most I've bought for myself is a newspaper. And this is what I'm on about. How do you keep from missing your kids when they are your raison d’etre? Well, thanks to my experience as a part time dad to my eldest, I've gotten a lot of practice in. So what to do?
- The first thing is remind yourself it's temporary. You will see them again. Yes it hurts, but it won't be forever. Think of this as slapping a bandage over the wound. It won't last forever but it'll stem the bleeding for the moment.
- Second: if you're going to focus on them, don't wallow. Do something for them. I don't care if you've been stationed at the ISS. Buy them something. Take a photo of something they might find interesting to share later. Make them something. Anything. Use your imagination. It’s supposed to come “standard issue” for parents. No, really, take a look. See it’s that one there next to the bottle marked “tolerance”.
- Three: Here's a no-brainer. Call them. Even if they can't come to the phone. Tell them you love them. It might not seem like much right now but in the long run consider it as parental CYA for when they’re older and accusing you of not being there. Also email works, maybe a post card, webcam or hhhmmm...blog?
- Four: Borrow someone else's kids (legally, of course. No, no I mean it. Put the baby back where you found it.) But seriously, in my case I got off the plane and there was Chris with his two sons Lucas and Michael. I was jetlagged, frazzled and missing my boys to the point of tears but when a little one puts his had in yours, it doesn't matter if he's biologically related. He's either looking for you to take the lead or wants to take the lead himself. Either works. And it helps stop the bleeding, let me tell you.
A famous quote I keep close to me hits on that last point, something fierce. It goes like this.
" In old days there were angels who came and took men by the hand and led them away from the city of destruction. We see no white-winged angels now. But yet men are led away from threatening destruction: a hand is put into theirs, which leads them forth gently towards a calm and bright land, so that they look no more backward; and the hand may be a little child’s."-
George Eliot, Silas Marner
Heck, I don't claim to be that Christian, but the dude's got a point. And that was something that was driven home to a very tired man who missed his kids who stumbled off a plane three days ago. A big thanks to Lucas and Michael for reminding me of that.
Okay, enough sob story. How about some photos?
In ottawa Jamie wear's his MP3 player on the bus. In Geneva...well...guess he wouldn't need one.
Lucas and Michael challenging each other to a game of Chess.
The view of the lake and the "Old City" from my hotel room.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
