Tis the season to be a total freakin' loon!

Uggh, Lifebouy!!!! Anyone who knows me knows I am a Chritmas Guy. I love it. It's the most wonderful time of the year. I get happy. I dispense what meager funds I can spare. So, imagine my delight that I get to experience my first Christmas with Katie! Yeah, it'll probably be more fun NEXT year, when she's a little older, but I'm really into the "Baby's First Christmas" thing. As it happens, we are pretty strapped for cash, so I won't be buying a ton of junk. We did, however, have he pictures taken professionally. If you want one, make sure you are on our Christmas card list. (platypibri at gmail dot com) and you'll get the photo and my spectacular Christmas newsletter. Some people take the newsletter and burn it or line the birdcage, etc., but I like writing it, so it keeps going out.

Anyway, it's hardly a winter wonderland here in Riverside, CA. But I look forward
starting my season buy hunting down deals this Black Friday. BTW, the key to enjoying Black Friday is be emotionally detached, and watch the devolution of man into rabid pig as a spectator sport. I find this makes it really rather enjoyable in a sick, subversive sort of way.

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And now for a diaper change....

Brian
muse.platypionline.com

The War II: The Stink of Justice

Somehow my last post came off as being about spanking. It was supposed to be about a parents right to raise their child as they see fit. I'll come back to the discipline thing, because I think there is stuff to explore, but I want to finish this up.

So, I got arrested because my kid lied about me closed fist punching him and throwing him into a desk to the point of breakage. Pure fiction. But, I can ALMOST tolerate that, because I do think there are children out there that need protecting, and maybe if the cop errs on the side of caution... No, it sucks. Clearly if we are going to ask police to enforce family, they need to be trained to better discern a situation. I called 911 on an out of control child in a man's body and I ended up in jail. The kid is 6 feet tall and about 225. The police report listed him as 5'8" and 150 lbs. They also gave me an extra inch of height and put nearly an extra 50 pounds on me. They made it look like Rubeus Hagrid went all WWE on Frodo Baggins. We are a little more evenly matched than that.

So, excusing the arrest as best I can, I'm thinking this will all go away as the truth comes out. Clearly if there is one quality I possess in spades,it's naivety.

So that scene in Law and Order where you and your lawyer sit down with the DA and hash this all out. Pure fiction. The DA actually NEVER talked to me, from start to finish. He never even talked to my wife until months later when he realized she was going to be his number one witness, but she was actually on my side.

In the interim I am notified by the county sheriff that my name is entered into a child abuser's database. This is without conviction, or even an arraignment. I have yet to learn how to make this go away.

So day 1 of court (which if not for my Father-in-law bailing me out would have let me rot in a group cell for a week) what happens is the judge gives you the indicated sentence. This is what they will give you if you plead guilty right there. They also imply that if you fight on, the punishment will be harsher. They really want you to plead guilty and get out so they can slog through the stacks of DUIs and parole violations they deal with every day. I plead not guilty and ask for a public defender. I fill out forms 'till my hand hurts and go home.

2 weeks later, I appear and go through this exact thing all again, because no public defender has my file.

2 weeks later, I appear and simply postpone my case as my Public Defender JUST GOT MY FILE THAT MORNING! (Her name is Alison, and I do appreciate her efforts) She sends out an investigator to , uh, investigate. I drop off my step son's file, which includes behavioral problems dating back to third grade, multiple suspensions, CPS reports that pre-date my involvemnet, an expulsion hearing, half his lifetime of serious counseling, and not one but two arrest reports. It also includes signed statements from his mom, grandparents, pastor and a close family friend spelling out the situation that he an emotionally disturbed child, and I am not of the character to beat him. I literally have 25 people ready to testify to my character.

The DA ignores all this and presses on. The truth is, our DA's office wants to appear tough on crime, so the have a policy that they do not drop charges. Common sense be dammed. My lawyer AND her supervisor contact the DA's office to encourage them to see the light. No go.

I make a what I think is a critical mistake. I sign a form that allows me not to appear in court. I miss an appearance. The DA digs in his heels, and I will always wonder if I could have talked some sense into him in person.

We go to court again. My lawyer is involved in a jury trial, so we postpone. This is my 5th court date. We declare trial readiness. I'm going to a jury trial. The DA claims he never got the discovery packet, so I make another copy of the stack and drop it off. Alison thinks we are going to cream him, but of course can't guaranty that. This is all taking a serious toll on my mental health.

6th court date. The DA files for an extension. This is automatically granted. I learn he can do this several more times.

The DA calls my wife, to prep his witness. She gives him an ear full and reminds him the kid no longer resides in California. I don't know how they can have a trial at all, because i have a right to confront my accuser.

7th court date. I learn the most stunning fact of the whole ordeal. I can fight this thing and WIN. Not Guilty! Acquitted! and STILL have to pay up to 1000 dollars in court fees for use of the system. I realize that I would need real money to get real justice, and I don't have it. Spending 5 grand on a lawyer gets me nothing, and need a 10+ grand lawyer to get the DA to take notice. I need to be ready to spend a grand on court fees. I need to ask all my witnesses to be ready to go at a moments notice, and be on stand by for maybe ANOTHER month. My mind is reeling. I can't take it anymore.

The DA gets another extension over my lawyer's protests. And finally, he makes his move. I can plead guilty to disturbing the peace, an infraction (kinda like a ticket), and pay 100 dollars and this is all over. I stall for 10 minutes so that I don't appear too desperate, and sell my soul for the sake of my family and friends, and fiscal responsibility.

This whole thing from bail, to putting the kid on a plane to Texas, to parking and copying fees, buying a new dress shirt for court, Dry cleaning, and etc. takes us just north of 2200 dollars. Thank God for my in-laws who helped us out with the vast majority of this.

I spell all this out so you readers can know what to expect if the bad times come upon you. Be on your guard. I wonder how an average person can afford justice, and I fear it will only get worse. I'm still wondering what to do to work this all out for good. If you have any ideas, please let me know, either here, or write to platypibri at gmail dot com.

Up next, I intend to dwell in depth at the blissful heaven that is my little Katiebug.

fin.
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And now for a diaper change....

Brian
muse.platypionline.com

The War, Part I: The Nanny Government.

So, when I left off, we had a huge, family destroying blow up. I own part of that, I know. But the kid really did seem hell bent on destroying our relationship, and, he did exactly that. Confession is good for the soul, and all that.

But now, we get to why I am really putting this all out there. I have seen the ÜberNanny, and I don't like it. I dunno, if really had thrown the boy through my desk, I suppose someone should have stepped in. I didn't do that, however. And really, what business does the state have peeking over my shoulder as I parent? If my wife and I agree that I didn't step over the line, shouldn't they just stay the hell out of our business?

I took a state-ran parenting class a few years back. One of many things I have done over the years to try to make my influence over the children in my care a positive one. And I got a lot out of it, but I remember getting into it with the hand-wringing "MS in Psychology" over spanking. He said it only made children fear you. Not love or respect you. And it teaches them to use violence to solve problems.

This is when the first draft of the Norwood Unified Theorem of Parenting was presented. I asked, "You respect your boss right? But, he can fire you. Isn't at least a little of that respect actually fear? I mean fear and respect are used interchangeably in some literature." And some wringing of hand brought about something like..."It takes a subtle use of semantics to arrive at that."

And, do you think the mind of a child can make that subtle distinction? I don't. In fact, I think that a child's mind and emotions are far more primal than that. That they won't even begin to understand the subtleties of respect for years, and that in the mean time the world is dangerous, and fear is a powerful teaching tool. I think you shelter and control the child at the early ages. And as they develop, you introduce the subtleties of "cause and effect in good decision making" and "respecting people and property" and "societal norms vis a vis and The Social Contract" as they are able to understand. But you have to admit, at some point, all they understand is "something bad will happen when I do this". And when it comes to the stove, the fireplace and the street, I'd rather her be afraid.

In short, I love time outs. I love talking and reasoning with your kids. These should make up the vast majority of your discipline. But when they just won't stop running into the street, by God it is your damn duty to see to it that they learn, and if that takes a swat on the tush, so be it.

So, you don't have to agree with me. I'm not evangelizing The Norwood Unified Theorem of Parenting. What I am saying though, that someone called BS on my position at some point, and they had the political clout to do something about it. And everyday, that swat on the tush that served us well for histories recorded and beyond, gets more illegal in this country. And, that would be fine with me, except, I look around and we don't seem to be producing better children. I'm not so foolish as to think things were moral and perfect in my grandparent's day. But it seems as if they were MORE moral and perfect than these days we live in. And, you know, my mother's spanking didn't scar me for life. I've known every day of my life my mother loves me.

Look, I think Britney Spears is about the most miserable excuse for a mother I have ever observed. But you can't tell me that some judge yanking those kids from their mother and all they have ever known was not extremely damaging. We let the government into our families with good intentions. Stop child abuse, keep kids safe. But, the fact is, the government is really completely unsuited to the task.

Let me be clear for a second here. I don't anticipate EVER having to spank Katie. And I certainly would prefer it be that way. But, I think some children require a more physical approach, because it is all they can understand. At least for a season.

I believe with all that is in me what happened to my step son, is that before he could learn to understand respect, the government, through CPS, the police, and the court system, took aways the only disciplinary system his slowed development could understand when they forbade my wife and her ex-husband to use corporal punishment. Suddenly the kid had all the power. He could call CPS. And, I think it ruined him. A child should NEVER have the power. So, he never learned fear of doing wrong, thus, he never learned respect. And now he has trouble with parents and teachers and peers and cops. And it will take an ordained miracle of God for him to learn respect now, which is the basis of all healthy human relationships.

So, as always, I am open to instruction and correction on parenting. I want to be the best possible parent to Katie every single day. But, I don't think the government is qualified to speak to that issue. I'd rather hear from actual parents with actual kids. And, I think the government, in the form of CPS, the police, and the court system should only get involved in the most extreme of circumstances. It appears however, that their involvement is becoming all too frequent. And when a historically non-violent man is accused of abuse by a child with a history of lying, bad behavior and a couple of arrests under his belt. When said kid's mother and grand parents and pastors are all willing to swear in court that this man does not abuse this kid...
Give me the freakin' benefit of the doubt. I will NEVER have a perfect record again. That arrest will never go away. And that bothers me every day.
And the kicker is, they didn't do Him any favors by taking him out of our house. From what little comes our way these days, he is STILL getting into trouble at school.
What can I do? I gave it my best. I still hope and pray that grows into a good man.
I give him to God. "God can make a way, where there seems to be no way..."
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And now for a diaper change....

Brian
muse.platypionline.com

My Gabby Gal

The blog has been so serious lately. I thought I'd show you that life has gone on. This my baby yakkin up a storm.

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And now for a diaper change....

Brian
muse.platypionline.com

The Battle

	The aftermath of the explosion. Fun, eh?

Bare with me, this is not fun. So, last time I set the stage. Here's the description of the day. Now, my step-son has been violent with me from the start. 5 years ago, he tried to choke me for forcing him to take shower. He has hit me more times than I can count. I guess I should have made a bigger deal of that, but he couldn't hurt me, so I just shrugged it off. And I suspect, something is wrong inside him that he feels the need to be hit to be loved by a man. I dunno if his real dad ever hit him, because he's lied so much, I can't trust anything he ever said. I suspect his dad doesn't, because he seems to think his dad doesn't love him either.

So, have I ever hit him? I smacked him in the mouth once for calling his mother the one intolerable word. I put him in a wall once for raising his hand to her while again uttering said word. I, with great force, knocked a trash can out of his hand that he was swinging at his mother. See the pattern?

So, it was on this day June 3rd, 2007 that it all finally came to a head. I had come back from the store. I was making french toast and needed some essentials. My wife, having had Katie on the 15th of May, was recovering from a C-section, was depressed (not dangerously so, just melancholy), and was taking care of Katie's constant need, breast feeding. And then, we were going to drop Katie off at my mother-in-law's and go to the movies. If... the boy did his chores.

He did not. And, as a parent I do not negotiate. I dictate terms. I can be, and am, flexible. But, I dictate terms. Because I sure don't have to waste my money on movies, if I am not getting what I expect. My step-son always struggled with this.

So, being denied what he wanted, he went after his mom. If he harassed her enough, maybe he could go. So, I formed a barrier between our room and him. Nothing that hasn't happened before. He tried to insult me, and I (literally) reminded him he wasn't very good at verbal sparing. As, in "how many times have we done this? Has it EVER worked?" So, being by the changing table, he started messing with the baby's hygiene stuff. Maybe I should have let that go, but I took it away.

This was apparently the cue he needed to become violent. I handled this the way I usually did. He got in what shots he could before I restrained him. I held his wrists against the wall, and put my hip against him so he couldn't kick me. Again, maybe I should have done something different. But, it just seemed like a kid beating a cinder block wall. As long as he doesn't hurt himeself, why make a big deal?

Well, not being able to over come me, he began to destroy things. He started with the desk we had just bought my wife for her birthday. Next, I think (it happened really fast, the exact order of events is hazy) I picked up his playstation and threw it to the floor. He screamed as if I had stabbed him. I forget sometimes, as developmentally arrested as he is, that very young children form deep attachments to objects. It was not my best move, but I was so furious about the desk, I did it to vent, and not do unthinkable things.

That was my first critical mistake. My second would occur an instant later, as he began destroying the furniture, closets doors, and walls in his room. After years of being told it was the right move, I called 911. If I could go back, I would not do this. James, knowing exactly what happened, was terrified, and begged me to hang up. Begged his mom not to let them take him. And called his Dad in Texas.

I relaxed. I had often called friends to come over and provide a calming presence to our unstable home. I figured the police would do the same.

So, this is a long story. To sum up I told the police what I just told you, about the restraining, the playstation, everything. They arrested me. If you can imagine my state of mind. I couldn't believe it. I was sure everything I had done, if not optimal, was certainly legal. I was carted off, booked, put in an orange jumpsuit, and put in a 10 x 12 room with 10 other guys, 3 of whom were convicted felons, a murderer, a rapist, an a fraudster.

Much later I would read the police report. My step-son had told the police I threw him into the broken desk (here I must say, the sheriff was a moron. The damage to the desk was clearly inconsistent with the story. He had grabbed the door and punched it away from the desk. Throwing something into the desk would have caused collapsing damage, not scattering damage. Don't these guys go to a school or something?)

He also said I punched him. Now, how can I prove I didn't? I probably can't. I can only offer up the anecdotal evidence, that I, like most big guys, am a grappler, not a slugger. Big guys hold, and press, and slam. We're too slow to be punchers.

But, you know what else couldn't be proven. That I DID hit him. There was NO physical evidence. My wife swore out a statement to this. Clearly, James was not hurt in anyway, and with a smug expression, tried to talk to me when my father-in-law posted my bail. I said nothing, went to bed, and left the house early in the morning.

The next morning after I left, apparently liking what he saw, my step son called the police on my wife, saying she was threatening to kill the baby and herself. Luckily, my wife was on the neighbor's phone with the police at the same time, because the truth was, our son had hit her while she was holding the baby. My wife was NOT arrested. CPS came out and arranged to have the boy removed. They would later back pedal on this being a forced removal, but he was gone. To Texas, with his father. What small remorse he would show would come too little too late.

This should be the end of the story. It's not. I half expected all of this from the boy. Our justice system, that surprised me.

next: The War.

Rough waters ahead.

I know that a few parents read this blog now and I feel I have a duty to tell a story. It's a difficult and emotional one. It talks about our ability to parent as we see fit in the society we live in. It will paint an ugly picture of me, perhaps. It will paint an uglier picture of our legal system, and it's peripheral agencies. I'm not going to pull any punches. I'm going to take a deep look at the concepts of fear and respect in parenting. The fact will be laid out with precision, but there will be a lot of my personal opinion too. I'm not a trained medical professional, nor am I an ordained member of the clergy, so, consult with the appropriate professional before considering any of my story as "wisdom" to live by.

I'm going start my story tomorrow. But today, I will set the stage.
Look, I can't tell my whole childhood here. There are too many varibles to try to put the whole equation here. So, My mother felt her parents never loved her. Still Kinda does. My grandfather, despite tremendous talent and intellegence, had such piss poor self esteem, he bullied and belittled everyone to prove his worth, and was openly angrily jealous of the casual childhood of his grandchildren. So if you only get two things, get these. My mother loved me ALWAYS, even in spankings, and I always knew it and she made me as a delicate flower. An artist and a musician. And, my grandfather made me into fighter, skilled in physical and emotional combat. And, I have warred between the two all my life.

My wife, in short, has much emotional baggage. It's not my right to talk about her family life, but it left her with a hair pulling disorder she has to this day. She has an ex-husband that was physically and emotional abusive. She is very passive.

My stepson has emotional problems left over from the divorce, and has felt unwanted as custody changed hands several times. His grandparents and father have hindered his mothers ability to parent from the beginning. He is 6 foot, 200 lbs. His mother fears him because he is violent, and also because he reminds her of, and some time becomes for her, his father. She fears to confront him.

So, I am an overly sensitive fighter, my wife is passive and meek (at least in this area), and my stepson is emotionaly unstable, physically formidible, and developmentally arrested.

Powder Keg.

In June, this powder keg finally blew up. And it sent me on a journey I never expected, and will never forget.

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And now for a diaper change....

Brian
muse.platypionline.com

1st Pool Party (not quite first swim)

Well, one week after the Fresno Zoo (Kim is apparently a big fan), Katie braved the luke warm waters of a pool in San Juan Capistrano. Her cousin Elijah turned 9, and had a pool party at his Grandpa Al's place. So, my wife is big into cute outfits for Katie and saw this bathing suit... and so here we were. Putting sun block on your 4 month old is nerve wracking. Obsessing over every lil' speck of their sensitive skin. As my daughter, she has a biological right to a healthy dose of melanin in her skin, but I'm not one to take chances where Katie is concerned.

It's been hot as hell out here lately. Last Saturday was 113 degrees. What are you supposed to do with that? So, the party was well enjoyed by all. That's me in the picture with Katie, so don't go calling George Noory telling him you saw yourself a Bigfoots or Sasquatch or something. Katie seemed pretty brave in that face of so much water. She's a natural. I've heard infants are natural swimmers. Again, not a therory I was going to go testing. She can learn like everyone else, when she's older.

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And now for a diaper change....

Brian
muse.platypionline.com

1st Road Trip

A couple weeks ago Katie took her first road trip. 4 hours in a car seat to stay in a crappy hotel in Fresno, CA. Grannie and Grandpa were in Fresno for a step-sibling's wedding (I barely know the girl and was not even a little bothered that I wasn't invited.). My folks live in Bremmerton, WA, so the idea of a simple 4 hour drive as opposed to the normal 25 hour drive was appealing.

Actually Katie did much better on the drive than Daddy did. It was... well, it hurt. And what's worse, it hurt like I went to the gym without the benefits of a trip to the gym.

Katie travels well, one more piece of proof that for some reason God charged me with the responsibility of raising the perfect child. Sadly, she will become less perfect the longer I have her. Hopefully I look enough like Him, that she will grow up to look like Him too.

So, on this trip Katie visited her very first zoo. I didn't even know Fresno had a zoo. It's not a world class zoo ala San Diego, but it's actually one of the better municiple zoo's I've been to. Not too crowded and resonably priced, I'd reccomend it to any one traveling to Fresno. Bad enogh you gotta be in Fresno, might as well see something nice. We saw the most adoreable baby ant eater, the most active giat tortise I ever saw, and were up close and personal with a Bengal Tiger.

Sure, most of the experience was lost on a four month sold. Still, I am hopeful that a steady diet of zooz and parks will giver her the deep respect for creatures and creation.

She slept prerty much the whole way up and the whole way back. It's hard for her Grannie to say goodbye. Hopefully the future holds less distance, one way or another.
Katie is a happy baby, and she was happy for the whole trip. I'm a lucky guy.



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And now for a diaper change....

Brian
muse.platypionline.com

Historic First, The Roll Over

Yesterday was a proud papa day. My little girl rolled from her tummy to her back, and I got it on video! It sounds like I'm at a sporting event when she finally succeeds. And Hey, why not? I'm never gonna be here again. She's my princess and I'm so very proud of her. One of the best things that ever happened to me.
Well, maybe I did go a bit overboard editing the video. I'll leave that up for you to decide. The crowd goes wild...


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And now for a diaper change....

Brian
muse.platypionline.com

Getting Things Done

We had a big adventure recently. We had to go pick up some prescriptions at Kaiser and then went shopping at a book store because Dad got a gift card for his birthday.
For the most part it went really well, but, I have a couple of complaints. Now I realize I live in the greatest time ever to be an American parent as far as convenience goes, still... Most of these complaints revolve around the car seat. I'm all in favor of rear facing car seats. Anything to keep my baby safe(er). And I love the convenience of the modular car seat/base/stroller system, but...

1) Getting a baby in and out of these seats is so complicated as to be stressful for parent and baby alike. At least mine is. 2 buckels and a clasp, not easily navigated around said baby, and a head rest pillow that moves around freely. A handle and hood that must be moved out of the way before this can even begin. And getting her back out again feels like I am folding her in half.

2) The stroller. Sure it folds up, but into what? Something too big to easily fit in the back seat or passenger seat. Or in the rather generous trunk of my Pontiac Grand Am. Not ever one can or will drive a suburban. Just 2 or 3 inches less of height and width would make this a perfect object. Designers, release the hounds.

3) For some reason I live in the desert. The government mandates that Katie must be facing the rear of the back seat for a long time to come. For some reason, the government does not madate that an Air Conditioning vent be placed in the back seat.
When it goes north of 100 degrees, I open at least 2 doors, start the car, fire up the A/C, and wait to hear the compressor kick in before I even START to put her in the car.

4) I know 3 or 4 resturaunts that have slings or bases for above said infant car seat. I love them. Not having them is almost a deal killer. Get with the program folks. It's a small investment for a happy customer.

5) The stroller wheels. They slide all over the place they are most likely to be, which is the linoleum floor of a store. This keeps the rotating wheels from rotating properly. A little more traction would be great.

No complaints about the girl? Yeah. She was quite at the pharmacy filled with screaming, unsupervised children, and got fussy in the quiet, peaceful bookstore.
Figures, don't it?

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And now for a diaper change....

Brian
muse.platypionline.com

Mr. Mom....

Actually I prefer Adam @ Home as a "stay at home dad" cultural reference, but it's less universal. I'm beginning my 3rd week on my own since my wife went back to work. I gotta tell ya, that June Cleaver is one intimidating woman. Personally, I gotta pick some priorities and let the rest fall to pieces.

Katie is pretty much sleeping through the night. This means she's pretty much awake all day. I tried really hard to not be naive and have false expectations, but I admit I thought I'd have a little more spare time. Between feeding and changing, I barely have time to clean up... which is a topic it's self. All my life I've been an unapologetic slob. And yet, now, I get really bothered by messes. Not bothered like my neat-freak wife, but bothered. So, today, she's unusually fussy and I'm not getting anything done. If this next bottle doesn't do it, she may have to cry through a quick vacuum. So, when am I supposed to do all this art I was going to work on? When she's six and goes to school?

She's (been) here!!!!

Well, it's been more than a month since my last post. Guess why. Just hours after my last post, my wife went into labor. After 12 hours, an epidural and several consults, we elected for a c-section. Thank god. Ten pounds and one ounce, 21.5 inches long. That's my girl!
Anyway, Katherine Marie. She's been my whole life for a month now. We call her Katie.
And she, and people responding to her, have renewed my faith in humanity. People have been so generous. She makes everyone smile who sees her.
I've been down deep in breasts and bottles, diapers and Desetin. It's a whirlwind experience, and it makes me so happy and so sad. 'Cause she's already growing up. How unfair is that? From the very first hour we spent together I knew she was already growing up. Which is what I want for her, right? Why then does it feel like it's going to fast already?
Anyhow, fast as it is, it's amazing. She has me wrapped around her little finger. I look forward to every day.
I figure I can get back to posting somewhat regular. And I've still a mind to do a podcast, when the time gets freed up. Too many people who love her are too far away. So, Katie is going to grow up on line. I don't know what that means yet, but I'll figure it out. But she's too wonderful, I have to share.

PAST DUE

Well, it's five days past the due date. We are way past ready for the walnut to come and hang out with us. She's just dragging her feet. She was due the 9th.

Personally the word "induce" terrifies me. But that's what they are talking about doing next Tuesday night. Somehow, messing with "the process" seems wrong to me. I know, medicine has come a long way, but how do they know that she was due the ninth? We don't know and we're the ones who made her!
Anyway, my wife is miserable and hasn't slept well any night this month. So, who am I to complain that when momma doesn't sleep, papa doesn't either. Frankly waking up every two hours will actually be more restful sleep for both of us.
What I don't want is a c-section. That is the last thing in the world that I want to happen. C'mon God, nice and easy and natural (Epidurals are natural, right? I mean, naturally I'd want one if it was me.).
I'm so ready to be the father of a baby girl! Well, maybe "ready" is the wrong word. Eager, maybe, or excited. Ready is the last thing I am. In my mind I'm still a stupid teenager who has no business being in charge of the development of another human being.
Well, she's coming whether I'm ready or not, so they say. She ain't coming yet.

As I close what's probably my last post before she's born, I just want to say thanks for all the support and encouragement you folks who read this thing have given me over the last 9 months. This is only the beginning. Both of the blog, and my journey. The best is still to come. Wish me luck.

Brian

Any day now.... (and a small book reveiw)

Well, we are well inside 2 weeks of our due date. So, I suppose any minute now it could happen. Personally, after about a wee...er, couple of weeks, this particular blog will get much more interesting.

I'm currently readingCrawling: A Father's First Year by a man with the odd name of Elisha Cooper. It seems very honest to me, a man exposing his flaws for all to see, and also how having a daughter helps him work through (or around) those flaws. The guy is a little to "New World Man" liberal for me, and doesn't appear to have any sort of a job, apart from visiting places to drink coffee and flying around the country (sure, that's jealousy talking). He also seems, to me, unusually preoccupied with sex (his, pidgeons, geese, goats... none of it seems to go unnoticed). It is, however, a rather beautiful if sometimes uncomfortable look at early fatherhood. He certainly can craft a sentence, and you get a nice look at Berkley, Ca (and Zoë) through his eyes. I'm enjoying it quite a bit, while also making note of how I don't want to raise my daughter. I think fathers, and any one who wants a look into fathers, will enjoy this easy read.

And now back to biting my nails.

Why hunt down a mobile?

Why, to match the "Starry Night" Noah's Ark themed bedding, of course.

Starry Night Mobile

In my never ending quest to spoil my wife rotten, we tracked this discontinued mobile from here to Canada, to the end of the Earth, and then to E-bay, which is were we found it. She loves it. She's happy. I'm happy. And I'm a sucker for Brahm's Lullaby, which it plays when wound.

That's enough for now,

Brian Norwood
muse.platypionline.com
brian@platypionline.com

They have classes for that?

I spent 6 hours of my last Saturday learning how to be a parent. Sort of.
I did a combo class at Kaiser Permenente of Breast feeding, Infant Care, and Delivery which included a tour of the delivery room and the semi private suite we get for a few hours.

Now, why do I need to learn about breast feeding? Well, it turns out there were lots of tips for how I can mimmic the procedure while bottle feeding to minimize the chance of confusion that the little girl will experience. I also feel much more confident after diapering and swaddling a teddy bear. Heck, now I can do anything!

And, I know my way around the maternity ward. Information I am sure to forget instantly as soon as she says something like "I think my water broke". I'll probably say something a lot like "She's having a baby! Where the hell do I go?" as soon as I enter. That's me, cool under fire. I'm thinking maybe I should call a cab rather than drive. Yeah, I'm that bad.

Anyway, next Saturday is Lamaze. Which I believe is either the French term for "Husband Torture" or Swahili for "I'm being set up". Either way, I've seen Bill Cosby: Himself, I know the score. I'll have my bottom lip pulled over my head before this is over.

That's enough for now,

Brian Norwood
muse.platypionline.com

I see'd it.... I feel'd it...

I don't know if it fits the dictionary definition of interaction, but I've had new experiences with my daughter. I've felt her move quite a bit now, and I saw the quivering tummy of my wife as The Walnut frolicked through her uterus. It's the most amazing thing I have ever experienced. My wife's belly button has all but disappeared at this point, much to my amusement. I'm not sure how I feel about posting pictures of that, so I provided the approximation above. It's eerily similar.

That's enough for now,

Brian Norwood
muse.platypionline.com

I'm don't want to share

So, I'm not done writing yet. I just changed topics. Anyway,

I'm having a tough time wanting to share all the activities involved getting a baby (My first, mind you) with my step son. I know he wants to be involved and feel like part of the family, but damnit, I've never done any of this before and almost certainly never will again. Ideally, the way it was meant to be, the parents would enjoy all the picking out of stuff, the ultra sounds, the wiggles and jiggles the first time. Then, having been through it once, it would only be natural to include the first child in the process of preparing for the second's arrival.

It's petty, and I'm ashamed of myself, but I am jealous of the fact that I have to share my wife at this time. But in the words of the powerful and wise Super Chicken, "You knew the job was dangerous when you took it, Fred". Yes, I knew what I was getting in to. We just never planned on having kids.

I'll grow up. I promise.

That's enough for now,

Brian Norwood
muse.platypionline.com

Why I must be the best Dad ever.... or try to be.

Why I must be the best Dad ever, always love my wife, keep a strong, Christ centered household, and feel free to cry when ever I feel like it. Or at least try to

Because, I see what my step son is going through. He didn't have the benefit of any of this. And I am struggling to love him, when he he is frequently difficult to love. I see his dad in him, and I don't like it. How do I not see dad?. How do I see him as a fresh, new creature on his own merits?

So, I'm not shying away from my Christendom. Not on this blog, as Christ is a big part of my parental strategy. That doesn't mean I won't listen to non-christian views, but I digress.

Anyway, my struggle, this struggle, is a Christian struggle. My model, a man who loved the very people who spit at, beat, reviled and eventually crucified him. Perfect love. So, here I am, trying to love this boy, who desperately needs love, when he frequently acts in a way that is at times, frankly, unlovable? There is a level of selflessness that Christ possessed. And I don't think his deity absolves us from striving for that. If I can attain a level where loving is more important than my own feelings, I might reach this kid yet.

Now, anyone who knows me, knows I am more than capable of being a strict disciplinarian. And this post is not advice to other parents. But this particular, emotionally underdeveloped kid, needs my love at LEAST as much as my discipline. Perhaps more so. I'm so not naturally wired that way. My the home of my youth, a child knew his place. It's only natural that I want to order my house the same way.

But this kid, he's been through a lot of crap. So much that I honestly believe that he seeks to anger me, because an angry father is what is normal and familiar to him. Now, that is NOT my natural inclination, but he has a way of getting under my skin that few people have. And he is so desperate for attention that he would rather have me yell at him than ignore him. Somedays, it would be easier to just not care. But I do. I do care, and I need to NOT be that angry dad. I just haven't figured out how. Yet. But I will, for his sake, and the sake of the one on the way.

Anyway, it feels good to vent. Thanks to the internet for that. I'll leave you with some lyrics I found particularly relevant this week:
"So I try to be like you, try to feel the way you do. But without you it's no use, I don't see what you see when I look at the world."


That's enough for now,

Brian Norwood
muse.platypionline.com

I want to see... hear... feel... DANG IT!

Apparently, my little girl is kicking like top rated NFL punter. The problem is, I wouldn't know. Apparently she isn't big enough to punt one into daddy's hand yet. I have to confess this is aggravating to the extreme. I want to feel her kick too! Trust me, I don't want to be pregnant, but I do wish there was a little more tactile response for dear old dad.

We even bought a First Sounds® Prenatal Heart Listener to hear the little walnut. Bupkis. I'm really looking forward to having my first interactions with the walnut. Even as my wife is starting to get really tired of being pregnant. I can understand that. But the up side is she is aware of our little girl all the time. It makes me a little jealous. Once I actually hear something, I'll write a full review of the First Sounds® device.