Sunday, June 22, 2014

Simple Instructions

You know who should learn to take instructions?  Babies.  If they would just cooperate instead of doing whatever it is that's going through their little minds, everything would go so much smoother.

Typical infant not paying attention to the simplest of instructions
For example, if I say to you "put this medicine in your eye so you'll feel better", you would first probably question how it is that I became qualified to prescribe medication.  But beyond that, you'd be uncomfortable with it, but you'd do it because you can take instructions.  Instead, we look forward to three epic battles a day to ensure that the pink eye does not make a return.

If I say to you "stop wiggling so much when I change your diaper and we can be finished in like 30 seconds instead of 10 minutes", you would probably recognize that that makes a lot of sense and be done with it.  Also, I would question how it came to pass that I was changing your diaper.  I don't feel comfortable with the series of events that lead to this moment, so I am glad it was over in 30 seconds and hope I never have to do it again.

If I say to you "stop throwing your spoon on the floor, it's making a mess and we're running out of spoons", you better stop throwing your spoon buster.

Infants.  It's like they don't understand anything.  Yeesh.

Thursday, June 19, 2014

Pink Eye Day 2

RG's movement sensor went off just after 2 this morning. I went in, shuffled her around her crib a little to get her in place and went back to bed. It was on my way back to the comfort of my bed that I realized that I was only seeing things through my right eye.

I opened my left eye, or tried to anyway. Couldn't budge it. Looked in the mirror and it was completely crusted shut. Yeah, that little cringe you did thinking about it? I did that too.

Luckily, earlier that day the doctor was kind enough to point out "when you get it, you can use the same prescription as RG." Not if. When.

Lucky for everyone involved that she's still pretty darn cute.  I wanted to take a picture with me to work so I could remember that getting sick is totally worth it for her.  Nailed it. 

This was me saying "Ruby, smile!" 
I look a little weird in this picture because of my face.

Wednesday, June 18, 2014

Our Kid Is -That- Kid and Connecting With an Old Colleague

Less than one week at day care and we had to call them this afternoon to say that RG would not be attending for a little bit because she has pink eye.  In the words of the day care director: "Okay, we'll put the sign up."

That's right, there is now a sign up at our day care alerting all the other parents that they've had a confirmed case of pink eye.  It's not like they've put up a picture of her with her eyes coloured in with a highlighter or anything like that, but it just kind of stinks knowing that it's your kid that got diagnosed first... 

Maybe there is some sort of day care custom where parents who know that their kid is sick with something communicable holds back on the information for just a little bit longer in the hopes that another parent will call in first?  I mean, it's not like we wouldn't tell anyone that she's got goop seeping out of her eyes, because we totally would.  But maybe just hold back for a couple of hours before sending up the Bat Signal because there's a chance that some other parent may be getting their kid diagnosed too.  And maybe that kid's parents call in immediately, so when you call in to say that you're kid looks like she just spent an afternoon with Doug Benson (or Cheech and Chong for those of you not up to speed with your current pot smoking comedians) you can feel some sort of indignation that some other kid gave your kid this horrible completely treatable disease.  Even if you think that there is a pretty good chance that your kid probably picked it up at the library on the last day of their Saturday morning kids' drop in.

Meanwhile, in other worlds...

Back in my days working in The Job Which Must Not Be Named, one of my functions was to communicate and work with the company that contracted my company to do the work for them.  Ugh, it's more work to dance around the job than to just talk about the job, so I was a client services manager for a call center.  It was the job that made me realize I needed to get out of call centers and find something else that would stop eating my soul.  

It wasn't all soul devouring nastiness though.  I was pretty lucky in that I had some genuinely great clients.  And you know that I mean that because I don't work there any more, so I therefore have zero need to put on my game face and go out to another steak dinner with people that I don't really care for at all when I could be at home in my bathrobe on the couch with My Lovely Wife.  Grady was on my list of clients that I looked forward to seeing and hanging out with because he appeared to be an actual human being, which was nice.

Well, Grady has also moved on to other pastures since I last saw him and he's started a blog talking about his experiences trying to figure out what the heck kind of pasture he's found himself in (but there is other stuff in there too).  A warning to my mom: he uses some rather colourful language (or, I guess that would be "colorful" since he's American), so don't go clicking over to it if you feel like you might get easily offended.  Or do go ahead and click over to it.  What am I, the click police?  You're an adult, make a choice.  Oh, I hope you're an adult.  If you're a child, you definitely didn't hear about this site from me but go ahead and click and you might learn a few new words.

Check him out at 42 shades of grady and tell him that I sent you his way.  

Tuesday, June 17, 2014

Father's Day

At some point along the way, I stopped being me and I became Daddy.  Sorry, check that.  I stopped being "me" and I became "Daddy".

I used to think that people who referred to themselves in the third person were out of their heads (actually, that's almost literally what that means now that I think about it).  Now, I find that I am referring to myself in the third person as "Daddy" more and more often.  The same thing is happening to My Lovely Wife, who asked me to hand her something by saying "Pass that to Mommy".  

I assume that this is something that happens to all parents, but I never thought it would happen to me.  Just like I never thought I'd own an SUV or cancel my HD channels and downgrade my Fibre Op internet speed to save a few extra bucks here and there, yet here Daddy is.

Okay, it sounds creepy when you just write it on the internet like that.  

This was my first experience with Father's Day, and it was an amazing day.  I got brunch made for me, a giant lasagna dinner, a card... I even got to sleep in until 6:30 AM, but I woke up before that anyway and just enjoyed being in bed and not changing a diaper.  It was magical.  It also means that I need to step my game up for Mother's Day next year.  

RG celebrated her first week at day care by getting a big ol' case of the snots.  I have the day off tomorrow, and we were going to go out for lunch and do some errands and then maybe take a nap.  Instead, tomorrow we go to the doctor to see if it's actually pink eye that she has.  I have come down with some kind of weird stomach bug that I also blame on her day care exposure, even though she doesn't have anything close to the same symptoms.  I just heard that blaming the day care for all the sickness you experience is the thing to do once you become a parent.  

And on that note, Daddy's stomach just churned so he's got to go.  

Yep, it officially sounds creepy on the internet.