Tuesday, 20 March 2012

Happy Birthday, Squeakmonster

This week we will celebrate a very special day: Squeaker's first birthday, and I couldn't be prouder.

A whole year of blessings has past and I am so grateful for the experience and memories.

Like her sleeping on my chest for the first few months of life; little snuggles so cute and warm.
Happy birthday, Squeakmonster

Or crawling at six months of age, insisting that the fastest way from point-A to point-B is by crawling over Daddy.

And the first time she outwitted me at just seven months old.  She had been told, repeatedly, not to pull the bath plug.  She looked up at me adorably while sucking the water out of a face washer; she got the cooing response she sought. All the while her other hand was slowly creeping to the plug behind her.  I am sure her wiles will fool me many more times over the years.

Monday, 12 March 2012

Death...That is All

When I was seventeen my grandmother died.  Somehow I had managed to avoid, or be shielded from, death for that long. Amazing.

There is no puppy heaven: discussing
death honestly with children shouldn't be hard
Image credit: Zach Weiner SMBC
Buy the shirt: SMBC Alien Shirt
The downside to this is that I was totally unprepared for the event emotionally and mentally.

Death is the most certain thing in this life and in our society is shrouded in taboo, wishful thinking and outright dread.  It is the cause of much anxiety, fear and irrational thought and behaviour.

I wanted to take the power of death away from my children's minds.  When the Little Dude was two I bought him a pot of flowers to care for.  He would water it every other day and harvest the flowers to give to Athena.  On its own, this was a boon to him.  He had a responsibility (watering) and would reap the rewards (flowers) and he revelled in treating his mother kindly by giving her flowers he grew himself.

But I had a more sinister motive.  I knew the cosmos flowers were cursed.  In a few short months the plant would be spent and die. This is good.

Saturday, 3 March 2012

Would You Say That to His Mother?

Who likes complaining?  Not me, but I sure can go for a rant once in a while!  Buckle in and prepare to dodge Sleepy spleen....

I love being a stay-at-home dad.  Sure it is a little bit different, a bit quirky to some.  My blogger profile sums up my thoughts on how this role is received in the public sphere:
A stay-at-home dad, a vocation so odd to most I meet; a strangely plumed bird that curiously stays close to the nest to nurture its young, it needs to be studied with furrowed brow and poked at with long fingers.
In general, society isn't ready for us.  People can't quite wrap their heads around the concept. I know another stay-at-home dad who was told he wasn't allowed to join the local mothers' group because he packs nards in his pantaloons!