In Memoriam...

GotoworkJulie's grandmother, Dorothy Neudecker, passed away last night. She was the matriarch of this fine family in every sense of the word and is the first person that Amelia has really known to have died.

For the first few years after we moved here, Dorothy would watch Amelia as I would mow her lawn. They would delight in each others company and I was always inspired by her vitality.

In the fall of our third year here, Dorothy had me pick the grapes from the vines in her yard and instructed me in the making of wine. A favorite picture of mine is of Amelia, in the basement, up to her elbows in grapes as she helped me mash them before fermentation. Drinking a glass or two, with Dorothy, every time I came to help her out in some way became a little tradition that I relished.

Julie and Amelia were at her aunt's house last night when the news came in. It was not at all unexpected as Dorothy has been in a nursing home and under hospice care. Her health was quickly fading. Julie called me and told me that her grandmother had passed, that she was ok but, the kid was a little sad. She related this story to me when they got home later in the night:

As they were driving home they were talking about 'Greatgrandma' and Amelia said "I think when Greatgrandma died she turned into a star" as she stared out the window. There was a short pause then finished with "I think I see her right there..." Julie said she lost it and started blubbering. I was fixing them a little food when they came in and Julie told this to me. At that point, I blubbered a little too.

Dorothy, you will be missed...

"Try not to be a *ick..."

GotoworkJulie actually used a word that refers to a certain portion of the male anatomy and sounds a lot like dick. "Why would she say such a thing to you?" I seem to hear you say. Well, pull up a stool and listen to my story

A couple of weeks ago, an old high-school friend of her's was in town for their viente anos class reunion. See how gracious stayathomebryan is, not to reveal how long his precious treasure has been out of high school, by using indecipherable code? Definitely a non-*ickish move.

She tells me that we are going to our friend's(Tammy and Duff) house where her aforementioned friend, and her partner, will be spending the afternoon. "Partner?" says I. "Yes, they are gay. Try not to be a *ick". Well, that's not fair. Not that she shouldn't assume that I could/would/might have the propensity to be a *ick because I can/will/might be or am or something... whatever! It is that she actually set that expectation knowing full well that I have limited self control.

It is kind of like when I was in high school, my parents would say things like "Don't skip school" and "Stop touching yourself". Witness my lack of university education and total inability to see anything without eyeglasses as to the efficacy of their heartfelt instructions. "Don't be a *ick" will likely work just as well. As anyone who has met me knows, I yam what I yam. I take this opportunity to apologize.

I am fine with gay people(hey, some of my best friends are... ummm, ok, I don't have any gay friends but, I live in BFE Illinois for Pete's sake) and gotoworkJulie knows this. She also hasn't seen this friend in years and doesn't want my "equal opportunity" offensive nature to ruin her chance to do some catching up. I say to myself, several times, on the way over "I will not be a *ick, I will not be a*ick". I even remember believing myself for a second.

We arrived at our friend's house and unexpectedly Julie's visiting friend answers the door. "Hey, I thought you were Parker(Tammy and Duff's 13 year old son) for a minute..." was the first thing out of my mouth. Doh! Admonitions and affirmations out the window, in less than a second. In my defense, she does look a little like Parker. That, of course, is neither her nor there. I am a *ick and I proved at my first chance.

I've got to say that the visiting friend and her partner were great and didn't seem to be bothered by my over-developed uncouthness. Thank goodness, as I am sure that I was barely better than my first display, the rest of the evening. They even invited us, sincerely it seemed, to come to Seattle, let us stay with them and show us around. I sincerely hope we do, someday.

As a total aside, we were able to use this meeting to introduce Amelia to what being gay is. She has seen enough t.v. and movies where there are gay characters and has wondered aloud about them. To this point, we have avoided the subject, waiting for the proper time and place. Driving home, we simply brought up how her "new friends"(she really liked them) were a couple like we are, and when two men or two women are a couple, it is called being "gay". She was neither shocked or upset by the notion. We didn't think she would be and were grateful for this perfect opportunity.

stayathomebryan vows to try to be less of who he is...

The summer of my kid's content...

This was Amelia's first week back in school, after what has been the best summer break yet, imho. If I had to label it, it would be "The summer of Lydia and Amelia's Grand Adventure, kindly do not interupt..." or some such.

Lydia and family went on the required American Judeo-Christian Hajj(Disneyworld) as soon as school let out and Amelia began to display withdrawal symptoms almost immediately, prompting the coining of the phrase 'friend-bilical cord'. It seemed strange in that they spend relatively little time together during the school year and we had yet to make any real concrete plans beyond their hanging together at Korte rec center's playground/summer camp. Nevertheless, my kid started to get a little wiggy before their family touched down in Orlando and was out-of-sorts for the entire week they were gone. The cord was definitely stretched and the munchkin didn't like it. Not one bit.

When my child's other half returned and they were attending Korte's summer camp together, we settled into the routine of me picking up, and keeping for the day, both girls every other day with Lydia's mom playing the alternate. It started out as a day-by-day then week-by-week thing and ended up going all summer long. To say that the kid flourished wouldn't be generous enough. It was really the first time that she was mature and independent enough for this to go on and on and on like it did. They couldn't get enough of each other.

It is simply fantastic to me to see the two young girls trust and care for each other with no expectations or agenda. I don't know of any adult relationship that is as simple and pure. I will forever remember watching them sitting on the hammock, with their arms around each other, for what seemed an eternity, just talking. I have no idea what they had to say but I could tell from their relaxed expressions that it was no one's business but their own. It was one of those rare times in my life that I experienced a genuine blessing just by witnessing the blessing of others.

We went the entire summer like that. Our house, their house, day in, day out. Amelia attended a summer enrichment camp at Triad High School for a week and they both went to a Science Summer camp, put on by the St. Louis Science center, but their days with just the two of them are going to have the most profound and prolonged effect. It was this time together that spawned the second patented phrase: conjoined friends.

I am pleased(since it is, ultimately, all about me) that my child has and is such a good friend. I am as equally pleased that it is Lydia.

stayathomebryan is glad that school is back in session but, only just so...

She blinded me with science...

When we were eating dinner tonight I was surfing through the channels for something suitable. I found a NatGeo show about space and clicked on it. On the screen was a close-up photo of Jupiter.

The narrator "...and Jupiter's most recognizable feature is the big red spot..."

Immediately Amelia says "It's 3 times the size of Earth."

Stayathomebryan - "What? You mean Jupiter?"

Amelia - "No. The big red spot."

Narrator - "...which is 3 times the size of Earth..."

Mildly befuddled silence by the parents accompanied by a little shrug & raised eyebrows from the kid.

GotoworkJulie - "Where did you learn that?"

Amelia - "Science camp."

sometimes, stayathomebryan feels a might-bit befuddled

A year ago she might have cried...

One day last week Amelia had a friend over to play. It was this girl's first visit to the house even though they have known each other from school for the past couple of years. We have been hoping to get them together as we really like this kid and think that they will get along well. And they did.

When NotLydia (I refer here to any of her friends that is not Lydia as... NotLydia) arrived there was a bit of awkwardness on both their parts. They stood in the foyer area, for a while, as NotLydia surveyed her surroundings and Amelia did the same of her guest. I was just hanging back, waiting to see how things went and hoping they would require no intervention.

A large picture of Amelia as a toddler caught NotLydia's eye and off the cuff she said, "Amelia, you were a funny looking baby". Ooowwww, that was a little something and I went on High-Alert in case I needed to do damage control. In half a second Amelia replied "Well, I guess that most babies are a little funny looking, right?..." Boom. I was a little stunned and more than a little pleased at the same time. Her response was brilliant verbal Aikido. Step off line, redirect the energy and momentum so that no one gets hurt. Wow.

NotLydia and Amelia went on to have a lot of fun together. The obvious comfort and ease that

our conjoined friends(Amelia/Lydia) share wasn't there and I expect it may never be, but it was a good start.

stayathomebryan will remain in the background, where he belongs.

We are Noodle Folk...

and as of this weekend, Sushi Folk. Forgive me, I am getting a little ahead of myself.

Since Amelia was old enough to eat solid food, I have been feeding her noodles. Spaghetti noodles, raman noodles and especially No-Yolk brand egg noodles. To this day, I cook extra noodles and store them in a plastic container in the 'fridge. I can boil water, in our electric tea kettle, in about 3 minutes and pour it over the cold noodles. Boom. Quickest meal ever that the kid will always eat. Almost always anyways.

Last Sunday we went to see Kung Fu Panda2 in 3D. If you haven't yet, here is our endorsement. We enjoyed the flick. See the first one too, if you haven't already. Afterwards, we were bouncing around ideas of where to get dinner when Amelia announced she wanted to get sushi. Not just for us, she was going to eat her some sushi. Not the sissy-California roll sushi. Real deal sushi. Raw fish sushi... "Ok kid. Whatever you say."

We have taken her to Wasabi in Edwardsville many times and count it as one of our favorite restaurants. She always gets the same thing. Udon noodles. Go figure.

Amelia and gotoworkJulie poured over the menu, looking at pictures and reading/discussing the ingredients. Amelia decided she wanted to try the Beth roll, one of her mom's favorites, and have some udon noodles on the side. You know, just in case...

When it arrived at the table she looked over the boat and was satisfied with what she saw. Being pretty good with chopsticks, Amelia still had to grab a section of the roll, with her hand, to keep it from falling apart. No soy or wasabi for this kid, just right up to the mouth. It was pretty funny watching her face scrunch up in that "I'm not sure I'm gonna like this" expression

as she was side-biting(she recently lost her two front teeth) off a small hunk. Bravely, but with evident caution, she chewed, swallowed and announced she liked it. She appeared pleasantly relieved.

Amelia ended up eating some yellowfin tuna, salmon and 2 chunks of Beth roll. A fair number of udon noodles were slurped up whole as well.

stayathomebryan was just beginning to think he knew his kid...

Chillin' & Grillin'...

Jakey in June is a local BBQ contest organized by one Richard Schmidt and held in the next-town-over, St. Jacob. In just a couple of years it has grown to be a truly respectable event featuring some champion bbqers, live entertainment and a kids cook-off.

Amelia enjoys cooking as much(or more) than the next kid but, she avoids the grill like she avoids spiders, high places, and... well... fire. Regardless, when I asked her if she wanted to participate in the grilling competition this year, she enthusiastically said "yes".

The age group that she is in grills 1 lb of hamburger. The contest provides the meat, a small weber-type grill with smoldering charcoal and some brave judges. It is up to the contestants to provide the rest. A couple of days before, I mentioned to the kid that she needs to decide what ingredients she wants to put in her burger and get them together. She requested the spice rack and a bowl and sat with them at the coffee table to experiment. I was cooking, in the kitchen, as she would ask,"What does ground ginger taste like?" and "How about allspice?". My answer every time was "You have to try it." Then I would hear "Oh, I like that" or "much too spicy" and such. She sprinkled the desired amounts of I-have-no-idea-how-many-or-what-type-of spices into the bowl. After about half an hour she brought the bowl to me and announced she was pleased with the result. I emptied the mixture into an old spice container and gave it to her to label and put away for safe keeping.

Two days before the event, Amelia informed her mom that she would be needing a new apron. Happily, gotoworkJulie went to the fabric store on her lunch hour and bought a couple of different fabrics and some complimenting trim what-not. Immediately following dinner she began designing/cutting/sewing/embroidering and hemming. By 9:30 she was finished. By 9:33 she had decided that she wasn't happy with the results and promptly started disassembling the garment and re-sewing. By 11:59 she was finished. Again. My wife's unspoken maxim is "nothing is worth sewing that isn't worth ripping apart and sewing again." The results speak for themselves. It is truly an awesome apron.

The day before the competition, Amelia said she would like to put some chopped pickles and shredded cheese into the burger, as these are the only condiments she finds tasty on her own burgers. I agreed that this sounded good and that we would finish getting these items together before we went.

The day of the show, we bagged up all of our ingredients and a spatula and arrived right on time for the competitor's meeting. Here, Richard Schmidt, went over the rules/requirements/suggestions and judging information. The kids were each given a pound of burger meat and told to get to it.

Amelia had never "handled" ground beef before and, after having dumped all of the ingredients on top, stood and stared at the uninviting pile for a moment. Reluctantly, and ever so gingerly, she began to knead the pile. It is amazing how giant 1 lb of burger meat appears with little-tiny hands sunk into it to the wrists. With some encouragement from me she mixed, divided and patted out 2 somewhat irregular shaped burgers. She indicated her satisfaction with the product and we bagged them to wait for the appointed grill time.

After an hour we were led to the awaiting grills. That it was hot is an understatement. 95f, in the direct sun, 20 charcoal grills with kids and parents(desperately trying to keep their kids safe/on the right track/not overly controlling...) swarming about made for a seriously intense half hour. Amelia approached her grill with understandable hesitation. I told her she had to "do it herself" so she reached in the bag, extracted the burgers and carefully dumped them, from a safe height, onto the grill. After a minute or two of watching and seeing the girl next to her flip her burgers, prematurely, she started telling me she wanted to do the same. This was the only place, so far, that I intervened. Patience my dear, Patience. By the time I offered my approval, her burgers had a perfect golden-brown crust while most other kids were knocking what little doneness they had off their patties, every couple of minutes. You should have seen my kid overcoming common sense to turn those things as the flame were leaping out of that grill. I admit, I was more than a little frightened but she accomplished it without tearing them up or flipping them off the grill. A pretty awesome effort for a first timer.

Amelia received an honorable mention ribbon and a check for $5, just like 27 of the 30 kids in the show. I don't think I could be prouder if she won Memphis in May...

stayathomebryan has found Barfy's grillmaster-in-training

There she goes to save the day...

Yes siree. Amelia rode her bike, without training wheels, for the first time tonight. I am literally beside myself.

I want to say thanks to Tim Marti, who told me about a new(relatively) method to help kids learn to ride a bike. Worked like a charm.

About a week ago, I took the training wheels off of Amelia's bike. I also removed the pedals. Anyone who knows our risk-averse kid, knows that the training wheels coming off is a huge deal. She saw the stripped-down bike in the garage and asked me why I took off the pedals. I told her she had to kick around on the bike for a total of 3 hours, before I would put them back on.

She started out slowly, just barely pushing herself along. Over the next several days, she would spend 10 or 20 minutes at a time, kicking her way around the driveway and on the walkway to the front door. Each time she seemed to be a little more stable and moved a little faster.

Today she was zipping around and asked if it was enough time for me to put the pedals back on. I said it was close enough and had them on in a couple of minutes. She was really nervous when she picked up the bike and climbed on. I told her to just put her feet down, if she needed to, like she had been doing for the last week. She started out kicking her way around the driveway, picked up her feet and put them on the pedals, and stated riding. Just like that.

Riding a bike, takes a lot of little skills and a little bit of confidence to come together at the same time. An admittedly tall order for a Barfield. My kid pulled it off in grand fashion. I could not be more proud.

stayathomebryan is pleased. very pleased.

I'm in way too deep...

This is how I found out.

Amelia likes Miley Cyrus, and Selena Gomez, and Miranda Cosgrove, and on and on and on. I usually let her watch a show or two when she gets home from school, before homework and "whatever" activity that particular afternoon. This particular afternoon it was "Hannah Montana - The Movie". It was also dance class night but, I'm getting ahead of myself.

I have to admit I like the TV the kid watches now, compared to just a few years ago. Hannah, Wizards of Waverly Place and iCarly are much more watchable, for adults, than Dora, The Wiggles and Imagination Movers. Some of the jokes are clearly written for grown-ups and the rest is... well, it's ok. My complaint? There are a finite number of shows and episodes, so it doesn't take long to know them. Word for word, beginning to end.

This particular afternoon, Amelia watched some of "Hannah Montana - The Movie", then turned it off to do homework and get a bath before dance class at 5:30. As is typical, we were rushing to get her ready and out the door to class. I let her watch some more of the movie as I did her hair(it helps keep her still long enough for me to ponytail...easy peasy) and somehow we left it on when we took off for the dance studio. Parents are not allowed to stay and watch the class so, I usually go home to cook dinner. I have to pick her up again at 7:00. That means I have just enough time to get home, get it made, then get back to pick her up.

I walked into the house and right into the kitchen. I was deep into making dinner, the tv was providing background noise, when the "ho-down" scene came on. You remember the one, right? It's when Miley is pulled up on stage, to do a number with the band, and gets everyone dancing to that catchy song, "doin' the ho-down, doin' the ho-down...". You don't remember it?... Oh. Well, it is actually a pretty good song. I know, but it is... I guess.

Unconsciously(I swear), I rocked out to the song, as I was cooking and a couple of minutes later found myself reciting dialog. Out loud. In my kitchen. By myself. Hannah Montana dialog. I had been listening to Hannah Montana on the tv, rockin' & recitin', for almost 45 minutes. No kid in the house. The realization stopped me in my tracks. I mixed a drink, walked into the living room and switched the tv to Sirius XMU, turned the stereo up to mind-numbing, sat on the couch, and had myself a little cry. Having so completely lost my dignity, I deserved it.

stayathomebryan is much better now. Really.

The last three weeks have been...

a flippin' nightmare. It has been rainy, thunderstormy, tornadoee etc... Like I'm telling you anything. You've been through it too. Our family just gets our own special twist, a bonus if you will, when the weather goes south.

Gator has been our dog for almost 11 years. He is cute, loving, affectionate, loyal and defective. I have to admit, he was something of a substitute child for us, before Amelia came along. We treated him like a furry little person and reveled in his company. Alas, all good things come to an end. He has never fully accepted being busted back to dog status, even though it has been over 7 years. I don't feel bad about it. I really can't stand my dog.

Gator has a real problem with weather. The first second that he realizes it is raining, is going to rain, might rain or anyone mentions rain, he starts running around the house crying and whining like someone pissed in his kibbles. Heaven forbid there is lightning and thunder. At the first sign, his whining becomes shrieks and he tears about looking for any mini-blinds that have been carelessly left within his reach. In seconds, he will proceed to shred them until they are in a bloody heap on the floor. His blood. Bites 'em 'til his mouth bleeds. He's an idiot.

During nice weather, at night, he sits on the floor staring at the front window. When a car passes and their headlights reflect off the glass, he starts barking and running through the house. He thinks it's lightning. This occurs about 40 times a night. Even with the blinds closed. A camera flash has the same effect. He is the dumbest dog I've ever met.

"Oh, you are so mean stayathomebryan. Gator is such a sweet dog. You don't deserve such a fine animal" says you. Well maybe. I feel compelled to point out he was given to us. For free. We probably should have asked for references, or a warranty, or the name of the town these generous people were moving to, at the very least.

We have tried all the reasonable options to help him through his time of distress. We've held and petted him while softly chanting positive affirmations. We've crated him with his favorite toys. Comforting him is actually more of a struggle as he fights to run about screaming doggy screams. We've sedated him with prescription tranquilizers and Benedril. It worked early on. Now he just takes it as a sign that storms are on the way and starts stressing and panting and pacing.

The icing on the cake is when he ends up in the garage during his antics. Many of these storms roll in at precisely 3 am. He can go from dead asleep to high alert the second a single raindrop hits a window pane. I no longer hesitate. I get up and open the door to the garage and out he runs. I have a dog bed out there expressly for these occasions. Once securely out of the house, he barks, cries, screams and crashes about to his heart's content. And he poops. Yep, that's the icing. By morning, he has run through that icing and is wearing it up to his elbows. He has trampled it all across the floor and painted it on the garage door with his little doggy paws. And I get the privilege of scrubbing him up after making breakfasts and lunches for my girls and before they leave for work/school so he won't track his special icing through the house. Good times. Had a lot of good times lately...

Remind me to tell you about the night the smoke alarm chirped. I hate my dog. There's no shame in that.

stayathomebryan gets all the news he needs from the weather report

Sweet the sin, bitter the taste...

It happened in the kitchen.

At least, that's where I got caught...

As a sahd, food or rather preparation of food is one of my primary responsibilities. Breakfast, lunch and dinner, everyday, is what I do. I do not take this responsibility lightly.

Over the last several years, I have discovered and some may argue perfected(?) a few dishes that are staples of our families diet. After preparing the same dish a few hundred times, I get to work out how to make it just right. There are even several items that are on gotoworkJulie's list of favorites. These are my "go to" recipes when I think she needs cheering up, has been particularly busy at work, or I want to get something. For myself. Let's just say they are considered... special.

A couple of weeks ago, I was planning on attending a "pot luck" after an all day seminar. It would be sans family, as Julie had her own education to attend that day. I planned on making/taking potato salad. The recipe I discovered, a few years past, is always well received. As the date of the dinner was approaching, I bought all of my ingredients but I felt that maybe I should bring something else too. This is a group of people that, to be frank, I really like and want to endear myself to.

While shopping, I came upon avocados. Perfectly ripe. On sale. 98 cents apiece. Beckoning. I bought 5. I knew that I would have to prepare the dish under cover. Easy enough, I am home alone for hours most days. I actually felt sneaky as I chopped the garlic, onions, cilantro, jalapeno and mixed them together with the rest. Here I was, preparing something special, not for my family. I put the bowl in the fridge downstairs. Behind the 2 stacked Tupperware containers of potato salad. Just in case.

I came home after the seminar and pot luck and was emptying out the small cooler of my leftovers. GotoworkJulie was in the kitchen, telling me about her continuing education when she noticed me trying to surreptitiously slip the bowl from the cooler to the fridge. She stopped mid-sentence. "Did you make guacamole for the pot luck? I thought you were bringing potato salad." Lamely, I replied "Well... I just thought it would be nice..."

Uncomfortable silence.

Julie, with a hint of mistiness and a hushed tone, said "that's... that's guacadultery."

There it is. It's out there now, isn't it?

stayathomebryan will be receiving 4 to 6 hours of sensitivity training. Again.

I remember it like it was yesterday...

Today is our 9th wedding anniversary. Thank you very much! Our anniversary never goes by when I am not reminded of our first. Yes... I remember it like it was...

In March of that year I got the invitation, from my buddy Cliff, to go on a Hummer weekend. Now, don't get too excited. It wasn't that kind of hummer weekend. The dealership, where Cliff bought his General Motors Humvee H2, invited all of their customers for an outing, to TM Shooter's Ranch, in central Florida. We would be camping, trail driving, obstacle coursing, shooting clay pigeons, drinking, and bbqing. Yes, it was every bit the ultimate, good time guy weekend (someday, I may relate the story. It was truly awesome).

Now for some aftshadowing. Aftshadowing is when you get clues to future events, in a story, that should have been obvious... now that I look back at them. In the week before the event, Julie asked me "What time is this thing over on Sunday?" and "When do you think you'll be getting home?" Several times. And then some more. My answer was always "How the hell should I know? I'm just along for the ride." and "Honey, this is something that is much bigger than just me. I'll be home when I get home." I remember saying something like "Why? Do you have plans or something?" She just answered "Nothing in particular. I just wanted to know..."

At some point, on Sunday afternoon, I walked into our townhouse after being dropped off by Cliff. I was carrying a sleeping bag, wearing a backpack, skateboard helmet, mud-stained clothing and smelling of beer, gun powder, bacon and manliness. I was pretty pleased with myself. Upon entering the kitchen, I encountered Julie with tear-swollen eyes and a very, very disappointed expression. "What's wrong, baby?" was coming out of my mouth as my eyes surveyed the kitchen counter. There was a bowl filled with chocolate covered strawberries, champagne in an ice bucket, a bouquet of roses and a greeting card with my name neatly penned on the front. Julie said "Happy Anniversary, Bryan..."

I may not be the only one to have forgotten our anniversary, but I was the first.

stayathomebryan has learned to read a calender... and take a hint.

*Bleeping* with the enemy

I hate the term "networking". It sounds WAY to businessy and pretentious to apply to stay-at-home dadism. Unfortunately, it really is the best word to describe what you need to do, to maintain your sanity and socialize your kid, before they are old enough to enter school. You gotta "network"(shudder, vomit)...

This means that you have to make friends with moms. They are about all you're going to find out there. You are probably the only sahd in the neighborhood or even town/city/county possibly state. This means that none of your new friends will care about beer, football, the UFC, lawn care, beer, your sex life, South Park, pick-up trucks, beer, your former life as SupposedStud, beer... Yes, it is true, you are alone. Fret not. I'd rather light a candle than curse your darkness.

Where the hell is my Zippo?

You've got to find, meet, and talk to the women(with kids the same age as yours) that you would normally never, ever find, meet or talk to otherwise. You say "Stayathomebryan, are you sure that I have to go through all that finding, meeting and talking? I would way rather stay at home to play video games, and gamble away our life savings trading stocks, while my kid learns everything they will ever need to know from the Wiggles". Of course you would. We both know you have nothing in common with these women... except for the kids! Well that, and the fact that you are housebound, and bored, and worried that you are doing the right thing, and wondering whatonearth am I going to make for dinner, and why did my kid crap on the floor, and why doesn't my kid talk to other kids, and why has my spouse been so surly lately, and jesus christ I am getting fat, and on and on and on...

Oh, amazingly you have a lot in common with these women and hopefully this realization will help you start "networking". Listen to me now and believe me later, your kid NEEDS to be exposed to the world, and other kids their own age, in as many ways as you can think up. You need to interact with poly-syllabic human beings, on a daily basis, to keep your brain from becoming oatmeal. Luckily there are more options than you now realize.

Contact the Parents as Teachers program at your local school system. I met some great moms and kids there, who became the foundation of a great play group, that lasted for years. P.A.T.s was the first structured, school-like, setting Amelia participated in. Our local YMCA has a free toddler time, several mornings a week, that we went to regularly. They allowed preschool kids to ride bikes, trikes, scooters, skates and strollers on their skating rink. It is the largest(relatively safe) toddler free-for-all anywhere. There are at least 5 parks, with playgrounds, within 3 miles of our home, that we went to all the time. That is just the beginning. I hunted out interesting and fun places, to bring Amelia to, and soon started meeting stay at home moms.

After you have been seen at these places, on a regular basis, moms begin to accept that you aren't some kind of predator and will talk to you. I guess they crave adult conversation, too. You'll be amazed at how you are considered an oddity, once they find out that you are an sahd by choice, and not because you can't find a job. After they overcome their sub-conscious prejudices, and find out you have no interest in hitting on them, you may actually become... friends(?). I know. Sounds weird.

Stay at home moms have a hard time not dispensing advice or offering help, to a sahd, whenever the slightest opportunity presents itself. "I put Petunia on a wheat/hormone/gluten-free diet and her attitude/sleep/stool has improved markedly..." when obnoxia-organa-mom sees you feed your kid some Cheetos. Resist the urge to defend yourself and realize this may be one of the "open doors" you need, to help your kid make a friend, and for you to network with someone who walks a mile in your shoes everyday. Even if you don't start a playgroup together, you may be surprised at how many times you run into Petunia/mom over the next few years. A bloody tongue now may pay off big when Petunia's mom is your kid's 3rd grade teacher... or something...

stayathomebryan is pretty good at *bleeping*.

Going Feral (read:foul)

On monday afternoon I realized that I haven't had a shower since friday morning. I know. I'm going to let that sink in a little bit. I can't believe that I am confessing to such utter grossness but, there it is.

I usually don't go that long and I am completely aware that I -well others around me- suffer from a pronounced ripeness that often comes on, even within minutes, of my having bathed. How can I go three whole days? Wtf am I thinking? Even I don't really know...

My wife and I are typically morning people. By morning people I mean that the morning is the only time there is going to be any "business", if there is going to be any had. By the time the night is here, we are both pretty much ready for sleep and I have been recently made aware(warned, scolded, threatened) that late, late night/early, early morning cuddling is not to be taken as "presenting", as I have mistakenly thought. In the past. Not any more.

Sunday morning, when she doesn't have to work and we don't have to get the kid ready for school, is generally... open season. This last sunday morning, when the faint light of the early day signaled that business may be at hand, I had a faint hint of self-awareness, just as I snuggled up close. 'when was the last time I showered... or shaved' went tickling through my sleep addled mind. 'maybe she won't notice...' was next, when we were both jolted awake by "Mommy" being called from the other end of the house.

My wife was once again saved from another assault on her senses and sensibilities. I know that I am responsible for basic grooming. I know... I know... I know... I am truly, completely, utterly, fantastically amazed that my wife still has sex with me. I truly am.

stayathomebryan will have the full silkwood, thank you

Like peas and carrots...

I realized early on, how little influence I will have, over my kid's friendships. In an effort to socialize my very shy toddler(and to keep myself from going crazy at home), I started a playgroup with a few like-minded moms and their kids. The children were the same age as Amelia and the moms had similar family situations and parenting styles as us, and we all lived close enough to one another that it was easy to get together almost weekly.

We planned outings to parks, the Y, children's museum and each others houses. We got to know each other well and trusted one another. Even though our kids are in different schools and all, we still invite the girls to birthday parties and it is great to catch up once in a while. I would have to say that we probably got those kids together at least a couple of hundred times over the course of 3+ years...

Things began to loosen up when some of us put our kids in pre-school. We all said we would still get the kids together regularly but, it really didn't work out that way. I fully expected Amelia to ask to see her friends from playgroup as I was sure she would start missing them. I mean Hey, we had been hanging with these people for basically her whole life...

Two weeks into pre-school, Amelia informs us that she has a best friend and her name is Lydia. She had never said anything of the sort and never talked a lot about her playgroup friends when she was away from them. All of the sudden she has this best friend. I met her friend's mom at pick-up and she seemed nice. Amelia came home from school talking about her friend almost daily. We were floored. Do everything you can to provide friends for your kid and the first chance she gets she goes out and makes her own.

They have very similar temperaments, likes, dislikes and such. They have always been sweet and caring toward one another. I can't begin to count the number of little letters, notes and artsy projects that they have made each other as gifts over the years. When I get fed up with the weather here and threaten to move us someplace warmer, Amelia immediately says "I can't leave Lydia!".

Over the last 4 years, we have gotten to know Lydia's parents really well and have done what we can to get the girls together as much as possible. They live close by but are in a different school system so they go to different schools. This really hasn't diminished how fond of each other the kids are. To me, it is totally awesome to know that my kid has made a lasting friend. It is also humbling to me that I had no hand in it, what so ever...

stayathomebryan is ineffectual.

Making it through another day...

The toughest time for me, by far, as a sahd, was when my little girl was too young to be in school. Those baby/toddler years were filled with many joys and many depressions. "Hey" you say, "What is wrong with you? It is your fault if you had a hard time. You chose to be at home with your child. If you didn't make the best of it, then you are an idiot!". Well, there is some truth to that. For me though, life isn't that black and white. I stand by my decision to stay at home. I believe it was(and still is) the best thing for my kid. I also say it wasn't always the best thing for me...

Being a sahd forced me to face myself in ways that I never had to before. I had always had a job that I was working with other people toward some sort of common goal. It wasn't always rewarding but, it was always distracting. When it wasn't rewarding, I changed jobs to something that was. I did that until I found a job that I loved and made a career out of. It was all on me, by me, for me. Not so with the whole stay at home gig. For the first time in my life, I was living my life for others. Not just the for kid but, my wife too. Being at home all day long, instead of out in the world, gave me too much time by myself. Yes, I was always with my child but, we could not communicate in a way that was fulfilling to me. In fact, it was very, very frustrating. She would cry, like babies do, and often there would be nothing I could do to get her to stop. I didn't have a soul to talk to about it and especially during the first winter, nowhere to go. We had moved to Illinois, from Florida, to be closer to my in-laws. I wasn't used to the cold. I wasn't used to the dreariness. I had no friends. I had no child-rearing skills. Only the desire to do the right thing and be there to take care of my kid and support my wife. Wow. Real life changes, real fast. I found that I needed some coping strategies or I wasn't going to make it.

This is probably going to sound terrible so, here goes. I needed something to look forward to. Something in the immediate future that I could focus on to get me past that crying episode(the kid, not me), the 11th dirty diaper of the day, that she won't go down for a nap when I really need her to take a nap. What was this magical goal, no reward, that would become daddy's little helper? Alcohol. Yep, alcohol. "That is disgusting, and tragic, and... and..." you seem to say. Well, hear me out and learn a lesson that may be the answer to many a problem.

I never drank during the day. Never. I never drank to excess. Never. I would wait until I got the call from my wife, that she was in the car on her way home, then I would mix a cocktail. A Bacardi Gold rum with orange juice and a splash of Pom, to be specific. It is what I came to call my medicine. I would, and still do, sip this wonderful treat as I made dinner and it was, and still is, splendid.

You see, it isn't the drink itself that made any kind of difference. It was having that as a goal, a pivot point, a reward at a moment in the day when I knew that help was on the way. At the most stressful times in my day, I could just say "I am 3 hours away" or whatever and it was amazing how much of a relief that was...

I am not recommending that you take up drinking(or am I?). I am saying that having something, a reward, just for you, that you can use to take your mind off that moment you are experiencing, can make the difference between sanity and... uhhh... not... sanity.

Things are so much easier now. Amelia is seven and in many ways much more independent. Don't get me wrong. I still enjoy my cocktail. Still only after I get the call. I still look forward to getting that call...

stayathomebryan rhymes with schmalcoholic

My kid is smarter than me...

When my daughter had just turned 3, I took her to the pediatrician's office for her annual well-child visit. In the waiting area is a fish tank that, at the time, had 2 sickly gold fish, a blue gravel bottom, a plastic seaweed looking plant and 1 pinkish/purplish rock. Amelia was looking in the tank so I knelt down beside her. I noticed she was staring at the rock. Wondering why, I asked her "What color is that rock?". As she continued to stare at it, I began a little internal dialog. 'Is she gong to say purple? Is she going to say pink? Is she going to say purple? Is she going to say pink?'...

About the time I thought she wasn't going to answer, she said "It's magenta". I thought 'Oh... so that's magenta...'

stayathomebryan needs a color wheel

So you think you want to be a stay at home dad...

Well, you are not ready. Oh, I understand that you think you are but, you're not. Have you had a career in the past? Maybe something challenging? Fulfilling even? I am not going to say that being a sahd(stay at home dad) isn't both of those things. It is amazingly rewarding and wonderfully different than anything you have ever done before. I know... I've been at it full time since 2004. Let me tell you this...

Nothing you have done in the past has prepared you for the type of things that you will be taking on. Having dealt with a crying baby and changing diapers is one thing. Having a crying baby and not knowing how to get them to stop. Day after day. Week after week. No end in sight, is entirely another. I was used to working hard, every day, with adults. They weren't alway agreeable, or rational, or pleasant to be around but, at least we could communicate. With words. That is something that I had been doing rather successfully since I was in preschool. It doesn't work that way with a baby. "Everyone knows that" you say. Sure but, not everyone is set up emotionally to handle that for the weeks and months that you are going to have to.

Loneliness is the next hurdle. I was not prepared for life without adult interaction. Oh sure, I still talked to some gown-ups at the grocery store and what not. That isn't what I mean. I no longer dealt with adults, in a meaningful manner, except for my wife, at all. My world shrunk to revolve around my home and my child. I love my family more than anything and everything in the world but, it boils down to the day after day, week after week thing. Very, VERY depressing. If you do it right, you will meet and develop some friendship with some moms that will help but, no matter what, they can only be so close... not that close.

Men will no longer respect you. At all. Maybe your closest friends will. Maybe. The rest will use every opportunity to let you know that you suck. It's almost always subtle. When you tell them you are a sahd, they almost always say "Wow, I wish I could do that". Within a minute or two, they admit that they could never do it. Then they look at you with suspicion. Their eyes narrow and you can see the wheels turning. The whole idea is so foreign that they automatically DO NOT TRUST you. If you are friends with their wife, innocently, so you can start socializing your kid, getting them to trust you takes forever. Even if they trust you, they still look down on you. There is something fundamentally wrong with a man who would stay at home to raise kids. He is not really a man. Not really. You may know them for years and they will still look you in the eye and say, with bitter in their mouth, "Well, I've got to go to work...". I am more comfortable with being a sahd now than ever. I feel the sting of that phrase every time I hear it. Wait 'til you hear it from your wife. Are you ready for that?

I know. Waa Waa Waa. Well, that is the reality of it for the first few years. There are some real bright spots. Seeing your child grow and change is fantastic. I have vivid memories of "firsts" that my wife never got to experience. YOUR influence on how your kid grows up can't be replaced by any day care and that is the only reason to enter into sahdism. I am 100% sure that my kid is as great, as she is, because I was there every step of the way. And yet...

I will still say you're not ready. I will do my best to help you, though. I've been through it all. I am going to use this forum to pass on what I've learned.

If you are still wanting to go through with it, quit your job and let's get this party started.

stayathomebryan says "take one step forward"

Is my first post really going to be such crap?...

Yep, sure is. I actually have a post or 2 already written(but not-quite-ready for prime time) that I will have up soon. Until then, this is what you get. And as you know, you get what you get and you don't get upset!

I will take the time to lay out one of the main rules of my site: Do not challenge me on, what will be, obvious contradictions between/within my posts. Being a stay at home dad DICTATES a life full of dualities that would confound a conventional, civilian parent. So, if I hear from you, something such as "Well, you dip-wad, you wrote this before, as an absolute, and now you are saying that, and these statements do not, in anyone's universe align themselves...I feel the need to point out and correct your considerable error...", I will come to your home and punch your mustache off. You have been forewarned.

I am also the king of the comma. I can and will make up as many run-on sentences as my baby-soft fingers can type. I will do this until my 7th grade english teacher shows up at my house and punches my mustache off...

stayathomebryan could diagram any one of these sentences, but chooses not to