Swatting the Small Stuff

So we're at Bethany Beach, and everyone's in the water, leaving me with my beautiful girl. It's a beautiful day, and I finally get to relax, and I'm thinking This is It! But then a fly lands on my foot and bites me.

I didn't even know flies did that. Apparently anything is possible in Delaware.

So I start complaining to myself, and I'm thinking maybe I should go back to the room, and why am I on the beach, getting beaten by flies when I should be in the water? Why do I always have to be the one getting attacked by killer flies? Why? I should have stayed home, really!

And I know, even while all this happens, that not everyone would have reacted in the same way.

I'm aware of my half-empty-glass problem, but there's not much I can do about it.

On the way back home, I'm driving over the Bay Bridge. Everyone is asleep in the car. I'm thinking back at a week of Grotto's gelato, swimming pools, sand castles, beer, and sun, and I take a quick look at my beautiful sleeping family, and I know that in the future this week will be The Good Ol' Days. I know that I have no reason to complain. I have no right to complain. About anything.

TMI: My Vanilla Sky Post

Chris from Stay At Home Dad in Lansing has just written a post about this blog. Go read it here.

In his review of People in the Sun, Chris fearlessly digs into the archives to find a man who's just started blogging after losing his job. That man becomes more politically aware, he starts a new job, he remembers events from his past, and he tries to make sense of the world. Mostly in a harmless way. Nothing in that man's writings could suggest that a few years later, that man would find himself thinking, "This is too good to be true," while staring at poop.

I've called this my Vanilla Sky week.

See, I was killing myself here. Although I said I would never again chase those damn milestones, and although I knew my mother-in-law was right when she said she didn't know anyone who walked down the aisle and wasn't potty-trained, I let it get to me.

We would spend hours in the bathroom every day. I was telling him stories, and blowing bubbles, and explaining the way the body digested food, and nothing... So I put the diapers back on, and a minute later I'd have to change them.

"No no... I'm not angry... I just don't understand why you can't... Never mind..."

And with those awful new Pampers diapers, and with the added cost of buying infant diapers, and with the intuitive feeling that he WAS ready, I pushed it.

And the more I pushed it, the more frustrated I'd become.

"Again, I'm not angry. It's not about me being angry or not angry. It's about you not saying 'No' when I ask you to sit there for a minute to see if you can do it! Why are you saying 'No' all the time?"

I knew I was doing it wrong. I knew I was getting angry with him for no reason. I knew I was pushing it. Pushing the un-pushable. But I couldn't stop myself.

Then last week, when I was at my lowest, it happened. He just went upstairs, and a minute later I heard him say, "Look! Look! Look!" And it's been like that for a week now.

And I know it's too good to be true. I know the evil scientists are playing with my brain. I know that in real life I'm lying in a gutter somewhere, mumbling, "What's so hard about sitting down and letting your body to its thing?" And I'm probably pooping my pants just to prove a point.

But I'll take the Vanilla Sky reality. I'm going to play along and pretend it's real. I'm going to pretend that my boy takes his underwear off by himself, goes to the bathroom, and then when he's all done, throws some toilet paper in the bowl. I've got nothing to lose.

This is What It's Like to Be a Stay At Home Dad

This is what it's like to stay at home with a hungry baby, a restless toddler, and two dogs. It's a long video, mostly involving some guy making really annoying noises to calm his daughter down while her milk is being defrosted in the sink. I meant really funny noises.

Deconstructing Nick Jr.

It's all really fun and all, but sometimes a man needs a break. Thankfully, this moose gives me some time to clear my head. If you asked me two, three years ago, if I'd let a moose babysit my boy with cartoons, I would have said No Way. A boy needs life experiences! A boy needs reality! A boy needs to socialize! Fair enough. I do what I do, and when I can't do anymore, I let the moose take over for a while.

So I turn the TV on, press 1-3-1, cuddle with my girl, and let the boy watch his favorite shows.

And I shouldn't feel too bad, because, honestly, Wonder Pets is the best show on TV. Seriously. I mean, I can't watch it anymore, but it's awesome. It's got this beaver or a Guinea Pig or whatever, and this duckling, and this gay turtle, and they save animals in trouble while singing songs. And the duckling is really cool. Here she is.

I'm not joking. It's that good. If you don't have children, find one to babysit so you'll have an excuse to watch this thing.

Speaking of gay animals, here's Toot and Puddle.

One of them is really adventurous, and the other one likes to stay home and tend to the garden. If you know what I mean. I can never tell which one is which, though. They also have this aristocrat neighbor who looks like Uncle Monty from Withnail and I.

Anyway, that show sucks, but at least it's not evil. Here's evil:

Now, you can't really tell how evil this show is by looking at this picture. All you have here are a villain with a lot of make up and a fucked up chin, an Icelandic superhero who jumps a lot, and a tiny 19-year-old hot chick. No, the real evil comes from the other characters. Like this lollipop-sucking monster.

Can you imagine waking up from a ten-minute nap to see this guy? The only part of his face ever moving is his mouth when he licks his damn lollipop. And the rest of them are no better.

Oh, Max and Ruby are orphans. Their grandma is their legal guardian, but she's hardly there, and when she does get home, she's drunk.

Here's another great show with a singing tampon.

I'm not being sarcastic. You have to be insane not to love Yo Gabba Gabba. Ironically, watching the show can make you insane.

And finally, competing with Lazy Town for the title of Most Evil Show in History is this soul-destroyer, where a douche bag (who ruined your high school experience by always being over-confident because too many people told him he's "got what it takes") gets to ruin your adult lives as well. This time, he's also rapping.

God, I hate his face.