When I lived in Baltimore, I would go to the store, generally Safeway, and buy milk. It did not matter if it was whole milk, skim milk, or some variation of lowfat milk, it was all the same price. Now, over the past few years that price got higher and higher, which is also upsetting, but that is really the subject for a different rant. Despite the fact that in 2005 I could get generally get milk on sale for $2.50 a gallon, and when I moved in 2010 it was about $4, at least it was all the same price!
Now that I live in Vermont, for some reason, the milk here is priced on a bizarre fattening pyramid. It costs less overall, which is nice, but the whole milk is more expensive than the other milk. This, to me, makes no sense. So today at Hannaford's, whole milk was $2.89, 2% milk was $2.79, 1% milk was $2.69 and skim milk was $2.59. But shouldn't the whole milk cost less?
As far as I know, whole milk just means "milk." As in, they didn't do anything too weird to it. Lowfat or skim milk means that they had to process it in some way to get the fat out, which ought to make it costlier to produce lower fat milk than whole milk, right? Not only that, but if they are removing something from the milk, then doesn't it follow that it would take more straight up milk to make a gallon of skim than a gallon of whole? i.e. one gallon of whole milk = one gallon of whole milk, but maybe 1.1 gallons of whole milk = one gallon of skim, plus .1 gallons of fat? Obviously I don't know the ratios, but do you see what I'm saying? I googled all of this of course, and did not find much, hence the blog.
My thoughts are this:
1) Supply and Demand - Maybe they just sell more skim milk, so they can charge less for it? But it seems odd that they would sell mostly skim, then 1%, then 2% and then whole, in tidy 10 cent increments. I don't think this is the answer, but maybe.
2) The Premium Effect - You know when you walk into a store and see two nearly identical products, but one costs a lot more? You just assume the more expensive one is nicer, unless you have a read a lot of Consumer Reports. Maybe they want whole milk to be the "premium" type of milk, and thus charge a little more for it? I don't know. That sounds a little silly.
3) They Are Just Messing With Us - Maybe they just do it because they can. Maybe there are a bunch of guys sitting in a room somewhere, smoking cigars and laughing at all of us idiots paying thirty cents more for plain old milk. This seems the most plausible explanation so far...
4) What They Take Out Is Worth More Than What It Costs to Take It Out - They only thing I can think of that really makes sense to me at this point, is that when they take the fat out of the milk, that fat is worth something to those guys. I'm no dairy farmer, but maybe they use it for butter, or something else that they can sell, and so the whole milk costs more because they can't harvest any of its delicious fat.
Either way, it still does not explain why all milk costs the same in Baltimore and it is oddly priced in Vermont. Does anyone actually know the answer to this question? It's really annoying me today, so if you know the answer, please, the comments section is all yours.
Search Tenor Dad
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Big Blue Ball
One of Ruby's major birthday presents was a big blue ball. Actually, not big so much as huge. Perhaps gigantic. This ball is so big that you can climb inside of it and roll around. That is the point of it really, and it looked pretty awesome, so we were excited to try it out.
When I bought the ball, I was under the mistaken impression that it was going to be Spring at some point soon, but since I was clearly wrong about that, and the ball is meant to be used outside, it sat in the box for a while. We decided, on the first semi-warm day, to take the ball out and inflate it. Sadly, the pump that came with the ball was broken when we opened the box, and our pumps are still in my sister's basement, so we had to wait until the next time my sister came over, which was Edward's birthday party.
Unfortunately, the day of the party it was very cold and windy out, and not good ball weather, so somehow I was tricked into inflating the ball in my living room, where Ruby and her cousins could use it to destroy the house. I don't think words can adequately describe the big blue ball experience, so I will let the pictures speak for themselves.
Well, the ball was a huge hit, and Ruby has played with it every day since the party. And it is still in my living room, because it is too big to fit through any doors. I would have to deflate it to get it out, and inflating it took me half an hour, so I am not eager to keep doing that every time we want to move the ball. So for now, we just have a new, interesting piece of living room furniture, and as soon as Spring really gets here we can move the ball outside. I'm thinking late June.
When I bought the ball, I was under the mistaken impression that it was going to be Spring at some point soon, but since I was clearly wrong about that, and the ball is meant to be used outside, it sat in the box for a while. We decided, on the first semi-warm day, to take the ball out and inflate it. Sadly, the pump that came with the ball was broken when we opened the box, and our pumps are still in my sister's basement, so we had to wait until the next time my sister came over, which was Edward's birthday party.
Unfortunately, the day of the party it was very cold and windy out, and not good ball weather, so somehow I was tricked into inflating the ball in my living room, where Ruby and her cousins could use it to destroy the house. I don't think words can adequately describe the big blue ball experience, so I will let the pictures speak for themselves.
Well, the ball was a huge hit, and Ruby has played with it every day since the party. And it is still in my living room, because it is too big to fit through any doors. I would have to deflate it to get it out, and inflating it took me half an hour, so I am not eager to keep doing that every time we want to move the ball. So for now, we just have a new, interesting piece of living room furniture, and as soon as Spring really gets here we can move the ball outside. I'm thinking late June.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Edward's Birth Day
Today is Edward's first birthday. Since I told you about the day Ruby was born on her birthday, I thought it only fair to tell you about the day that Edward came into the world.
The midwife had told us at our last checkup that he was going to be born that night, so we called my mother and she drove down to Baltimore from Plattsburgh and we were ready to go do this thing, but it was false labor, so we sat around feeling like idiots for another week. Simone had pretty much given up hope that Edward was ever going to be born and had resigned herself to a life of misery.
My mother was not going to drive back and forth 10-12 hours every time we thought it might happen, so she just stayed, and Simone mostly moped in bed for the weekend. Then, on Monday night, as we were preparing giant bowls of ice cream to east as we watched the previous night's "The Amazing Race" on the DVR, Simone's water broke.
This was about a quarter past eight in the evening, so Simone called the midwife while I rushed around in a panic collecting our bags, and anything else I could fit in my arms. The midwife told Simone that we had plenty of time, and that she herself would have to get to the hospital, so if we left right away we would have to wait for her anyway, so we might as well hang out at home for awhile. Simone thought we might watch The Amazing Race after all, but when she saw me, standing by the door panting, my arms laden with everything I could carry, she decided maybe we should just go to the hospital.
This turned out to be a very good thought, because by the time we got to the hospital, her contractions were only a few minutes apart. We checked into the maternity floor at 9:20, and from there things started moving very quickly. Simone got a bed, and the midwife did finally arrive, just in time to tell Simone that there was no time for any drugs, and it was time to have the baby. Simone responded by screeching at the top of her lungs for some #$*^!@$# drugs, but alas to no avail.
Edward was born at 10:21 pm on Monday, March 29th, exactly two weeks after Ruby's birthday, and just 1 hour and 39 minutes short of his due date. And also, as you math whizzes have already deduced, only two hours after Simone's water broke. He weighed 9 lbs 13.9 oz, and was 22" long. The only complication this time was that Edward had a broken collarbone, which meant we had to hold him a certain way, and buy him button down onesies, but he's fine now, and it seemed a lot less traumatic than Ruby's birth, but that could have been because we are old pros at this sort of thing now.
Happy Birthday Edward. I know you can't read yet, or talk, or understand any of this, but someday you will look back at this and be thankful that we loved you far more than ice cream or The Amazing Race.
The midwife had told us at our last checkup that he was going to be born that night, so we called my mother and she drove down to Baltimore from Plattsburgh and we were ready to go do this thing, but it was false labor, so we sat around feeling like idiots for another week. Simone had pretty much given up hope that Edward was ever going to be born and had resigned herself to a life of misery.
My mother was not going to drive back and forth 10-12 hours every time we thought it might happen, so she just stayed, and Simone mostly moped in bed for the weekend. Then, on Monday night, as we were preparing giant bowls of ice cream to east as we watched the previous night's "The Amazing Race" on the DVR, Simone's water broke.
This was about a quarter past eight in the evening, so Simone called the midwife while I rushed around in a panic collecting our bags, and anything else I could fit in my arms. The midwife told Simone that we had plenty of time, and that she herself would have to get to the hospital, so if we left right away we would have to wait for her anyway, so we might as well hang out at home for awhile. Simone thought we might watch The Amazing Race after all, but when she saw me, standing by the door panting, my arms laden with everything I could carry, she decided maybe we should just go to the hospital.
This turned out to be a very good thought, because by the time we got to the hospital, her contractions were only a few minutes apart. We checked into the maternity floor at 9:20, and from there things started moving very quickly. Simone got a bed, and the midwife did finally arrive, just in time to tell Simone that there was no time for any drugs, and it was time to have the baby. Simone responded by screeching at the top of her lungs for some #$*^!@$# drugs, but alas to no avail.
Edward was born at 10:21 pm on Monday, March 29th, exactly two weeks after Ruby's birthday, and just 1 hour and 39 minutes short of his due date. And also, as you math whizzes have already deduced, only two hours after Simone's water broke. He weighed 9 lbs 13.9 oz, and was 22" long. The only complication this time was that Edward had a broken collarbone, which meant we had to hold him a certain way, and buy him button down onesies, but he's fine now, and it seemed a lot less traumatic than Ruby's birth, but that could have been because we are old pros at this sort of thing now.
Happy Birthday Edward. I know you can't read yet, or talk, or understand any of this, but someday you will look back at this and be thankful that we loved you far more than ice cream or The Amazing Race.
Monday, March 28, 2011
Please Stop the Birthdays
Okay, I admit it. I am birthdayed out. Yes, I love birthdays, perhaps more than most, but I seriously can't take it anymore. How on Earth did everyone I know manage to be born in March? It's like an evil conspiracy of perpetual cake and screaming.
Ruby's birthday was two weeks ago, so we started by spending her actual birthday at Pizza Putt, playing mini golf, eating pizza and cake, and having a great time. That was the opening salvo. Because her birthday was on a Tuesday, we had to have the actual birthday party on Saturday. That meant we spent Friday cleaning and making cake and generally exhausting ourselves (not to mention going to her 4-year-old check-up). Then we opened our living room to over 30 friends and family members, which was by far the largest number of people we have ever had at our house. All in all I would say that the party was a huge success, but it was draining.
Unfortunately, my niece, as well as one of my mother's foster children, had their birthday parties on Sunday, so we packed up and drove over to Plattsburgh on Sunday morning. We were there most of the day, eating more cake and ice cream, and thinking to ourselves, "Didn't we just do this yesterday?" as we were overrun with mobs of children on major sugar highs, having eaten nothing but frosting for the past two days.
Sadly this past weekend was very similar to the one before. Now it was Edward's turn for a birthday, as he turns one tomorrow, but his cousin Avery also turned one this weekend, so we had a joint birthday party for them on Saturday for my wife's side of the family and friends. Again we spent Friday making cake and cleaning the house (how did it get so messy in just a few days?), and again we spent Saturday hosting a large number of our family and friends in our living room.
I can't say that it was a bad party, or that it didn't go fabulously, but when it was finished, and we just wanted to fall back and be absorbed into the couch, we had to clean up and get ready for Edward's other birthday party which we were hosting on Sunday. This time it was just my family coming over, but we still needed another cake, and more food, and we felt like we ought to pick up at least a little bit. By the end of the day yesterday I was passed out upstairs, and by "end of the day" I mean 6:00 pm.
The important thing is that the kids had a great time, which they did, and that they ate nothing but sugar and junk food for two weeks straight, which they did, and Edward got to taste his first chocolate cake, which he loved. And did I mention that his real birthday is tomorrow and we are having people over for a birthday breakfast?
Ruby's birthday was two weeks ago, so we started by spending her actual birthday at Pizza Putt, playing mini golf, eating pizza and cake, and having a great time. That was the opening salvo. Because her birthday was on a Tuesday, we had to have the actual birthday party on Saturday. That meant we spent Friday cleaning and making cake and generally exhausting ourselves (not to mention going to her 4-year-old check-up). Then we opened our living room to over 30 friends and family members, which was by far the largest number of people we have ever had at our house. All in all I would say that the party was a huge success, but it was draining.
Unfortunately, my niece, as well as one of my mother's foster children, had their birthday parties on Sunday, so we packed up and drove over to Plattsburgh on Sunday morning. We were there most of the day, eating more cake and ice cream, and thinking to ourselves, "Didn't we just do this yesterday?" as we were overrun with mobs of children on major sugar highs, having eaten nothing but frosting for the past two days.
Sadly this past weekend was very similar to the one before. Now it was Edward's turn for a birthday, as he turns one tomorrow, but his cousin Avery also turned one this weekend, so we had a joint birthday party for them on Saturday for my wife's side of the family and friends. Again we spent Friday making cake and cleaning the house (how did it get so messy in just a few days?), and again we spent Saturday hosting a large number of our family and friends in our living room.
I can't say that it was a bad party, or that it didn't go fabulously, but when it was finished, and we just wanted to fall back and be absorbed into the couch, we had to clean up and get ready for Edward's other birthday party which we were hosting on Sunday. This time it was just my family coming over, but we still needed another cake, and more food, and we felt like we ought to pick up at least a little bit. By the end of the day yesterday I was passed out upstairs, and by "end of the day" I mean 6:00 pm.
The important thing is that the kids had a great time, which they did, and that they ate nothing but sugar and junk food for two weeks straight, which they did, and Edward got to taste his first chocolate cake, which he loved. And did I mention that his real birthday is tomorrow and we are having people over for a birthday breakfast?
Friday, March 25, 2011
Math and OCD
While I have never been officially diagnosed with obsessive compulsive disorder, I know the signs, and I know that I am a little OCD, but generally not to the degree that it interferes with my life. Then there are days that it makes itself known and I have to roll my eyes at myself.
One of the signs of OCD that I share with many others is a slight obsession with numbers, specifically even numbers. I always set the television volume at an even number, and if 14 is too soft and 16 is really too loud, I can set it to 15, but... it bothers me.
I generally try to make sure everything I do involves an even number, so you can imagine my concern when I came home from the store and started putting the groceries away, only to find that when I had them stacked in fridge, there were only 9 of Simone's greek yogurts. Of course I had purchased 10, so I started looking around the other grocery bags for the missing yogurt, but I couldn't find it. I started searching the floor or the kitchen and then, when it did not appear, retraced my steps back through the living room into the mudroom.
At this point I decided that it must have fallen out in the trunk of the car, so I headed outside in search of the errant yogurt. It was not in the trunk, so I started to freak out a bit. Where was the tenth yogurt? I finally decided to check the receipt, and, sure enough, there were only nine yogurts listed. Did they miss one at the store? Was it sitting in my cart in the parking lot? What the heck happened to the tenth yogurt? You see, I knew that there must be ten, because I would never buy nine yogurts. I would buy eight, or I would buy ten, but nine? Nine is not an even number! For the love of Pete, it's not even a prime!
So I have some math-related issues. I finally accepted the fact that I must have miscounted the yogurts at the store and did indeed purchase nine yogurts, and then I just started laughing at myself and the fifteen minutes of my day I had wasted freaking out about the odd number of yogurts in my fridge. This is really as bad as it gets in terms of my OCD messing with my life, so I actually am pretty lucky in that regard, but it is a reminder to me that yes, I am a little crazy.
One of the signs of OCD that I share with many others is a slight obsession with numbers, specifically even numbers. I always set the television volume at an even number, and if 14 is too soft and 16 is really too loud, I can set it to 15, but... it bothers me.
I generally try to make sure everything I do involves an even number, so you can imagine my concern when I came home from the store and started putting the groceries away, only to find that when I had them stacked in fridge, there were only 9 of Simone's greek yogurts. Of course I had purchased 10, so I started looking around the other grocery bags for the missing yogurt, but I couldn't find it. I started searching the floor or the kitchen and then, when it did not appear, retraced my steps back through the living room into the mudroom.
At this point I decided that it must have fallen out in the trunk of the car, so I headed outside in search of the errant yogurt. It was not in the trunk, so I started to freak out a bit. Where was the tenth yogurt? I finally decided to check the receipt, and, sure enough, there were only nine yogurts listed. Did they miss one at the store? Was it sitting in my cart in the parking lot? What the heck happened to the tenth yogurt? You see, I knew that there must be ten, because I would never buy nine yogurts. I would buy eight, or I would buy ten, but nine? Nine is not an even number! For the love of Pete, it's not even a prime!
So I have some math-related issues. I finally accepted the fact that I must have miscounted the yogurts at the store and did indeed purchase nine yogurts, and then I just started laughing at myself and the fifteen minutes of my day I had wasted freaking out about the odd number of yogurts in my fridge. This is really as bad as it gets in terms of my OCD messing with my life, so I actually am pretty lucky in that regard, but it is a reminder to me that yes, I am a little crazy.
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Goodbye New Job
So I was doing an online test for a possible part time job, in which they live recorded me via my computer's microphone and then evaluated me for work. It was going ok until my children suddenly remembered that I was doing something important and they were supposed to stop me from doing it.
It started off with Ruby just asking me fifty questions about her crayons after I had specifically told her not to bother me while I was doing this. I guess that made her want to go bother her brother, who promptly pulled her hair, causing her to emit bloodcurdling shrieks that lasted for almost up to a minute, causing me to be unable to hear what was being said, or think, and did I mention the microphone was on?
I do hope you remembered that the microphone was on, because otherwise you might not realize how bad it was when Ruby finally decided to run around behind me yelling "I hurt my vagina!" over and over again. It turns out she had tried to climb into Edward's crib and had bumped her crotch on the side on the way over. Don't worry, she's fine. My job prospects, I fear, were not so lucky.
It started off with Ruby just asking me fifty questions about her crayons after I had specifically told her not to bother me while I was doing this. I guess that made her want to go bother her brother, who promptly pulled her hair, causing her to emit bloodcurdling shrieks that lasted for almost up to a minute, causing me to be unable to hear what was being said, or think, and did I mention the microphone was on?
I do hope you remembered that the microphone was on, because otherwise you might not realize how bad it was when Ruby finally decided to run around behind me yelling "I hurt my vagina!" over and over again. It turns out she had tried to climb into Edward's crib and had bumped her crotch on the side on the way over. Don't worry, she's fine. My job prospects, I fear, were not so lucky.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Attack of the Elmo Balloons
As a parent, it is my fondest desire to give my children all of the things I always wanted but never got as a kid. It never seems to occur to me that there were reasons I never got those things. As soon as I think of something I used to want as a child, all that sweeps over me is an emotional need to give it to my children, and so last evening we took the family to see "Sesame Street Live" as a birthday present for Ruby.
I must say, that everyone had a great time, except for that poor guy trying to eat a burger at the restaurant next to the theater, clearly wondering why his meal had somehow been transported to the middle of a playground, if that playground was full of children who had just been told they were all about to meet Elmo.
We timed things pretty much perfectly, and so we arrived at the theater about 7 minutes before the show started and after we all got settled, the show began. The first thing that happened was that Bert came out on stage, prompting Ruby to start screaming "BERT! BERT!" I thought that she could not get any more excited, but that was until Ernie came out. And I can't even tell you in words what happened to the excitement level when Big Bird came out. One by one, the Sesame Street characters came out to join the dance party on stage, until finally the star of the show, Elmo himself, arrived to thunderous squealing.
It was a little weird for me to see all those muppets dancing around human style, since they were of course just humans in costume, but the kids didn't seem to notice the altered proportions of their favorite friends, and by intermission it was clear that the evening was a hit. And then they brought out the balloons. Now, I don't know who thought it was a good idea to walk into a theater where a show was going on with a giant bundle of Elmo balloons, but it happened. I think the picture says it all.
Big Bird did come over the loudspeaker and ask everyone to put their giant balloons under their seats, and I think by the end of the show almost everyone did, but it sure was a sight to see.
The person that enjoyed the show the most seemed to be Edward, who stared with rapt attention at the stage and bounced up and down for all he was worth during all of the songs. Of course that was before Ruby escaped and ran up to the stage to be with Elmo.
It really was Elmo's own fault, because he specifically asked all the children to dance, which was a terrible idea, but he did, and they did. Children filled the aisles, and how could we say no to Ruby? So we let her out, which was not a good idea. As she inched further and further down the aisle (we were sitting in the cheap seats in the back) Simone turned to me and said "I didn't think she would go so far..." Before we knew it, Ruby was at the stage, in the midst of a large group of children, doing all the dance moves that Elmo was doing, and singing at the top of her lungs. She is going to be a lot of fun at concerts when she is older, but last night her parents were getting a little worried. Especially when it became clear that the show was wrapping up and several families decided to beat the rush out of the theater and took to the aisles.
It always makes me nervous when we are at a large public gathering and I lose sight of my children, so I ran down to the front and grabbed Ruby. I told her it was time to go back to our seats and she followed me back up the aisle to Simone and Edward. At least, that's what I assumed she was doing, except when I turned around, she was back at the front, jumping up and down in front of the stage and shrieking with joy. So I went back and grabbed her again, and once again as soon as I turned around she was off in the other direction. That made it hand-holding time as we marched back to our seats and got ready to leave ourselves.
We let Ruby bring her birthday money to the show to buy a souvenir, and she picked out a pair of binoculars, which she has been using all morning to watch TV and look at things across the room, so it was a good purchase I think. In the end, we stayed up way too late and everyone is cranky this morning, but I think we all had a great time and it was totally worth it. However I see why my parents may have avoided it.
I must say, that everyone had a great time, except for that poor guy trying to eat a burger at the restaurant next to the theater, clearly wondering why his meal had somehow been transported to the middle of a playground, if that playground was full of children who had just been told they were all about to meet Elmo.
We timed things pretty much perfectly, and so we arrived at the theater about 7 minutes before the show started and after we all got settled, the show began. The first thing that happened was that Bert came out on stage, prompting Ruby to start screaming "BERT! BERT!" I thought that she could not get any more excited, but that was until Ernie came out. And I can't even tell you in words what happened to the excitement level when Big Bird came out. One by one, the Sesame Street characters came out to join the dance party on stage, until finally the star of the show, Elmo himself, arrived to thunderous squealing.
It was a little weird for me to see all those muppets dancing around human style, since they were of course just humans in costume, but the kids didn't seem to notice the altered proportions of their favorite friends, and by intermission it was clear that the evening was a hit. And then they brought out the balloons. Now, I don't know who thought it was a good idea to walk into a theater where a show was going on with a giant bundle of Elmo balloons, but it happened. I think the picture says it all.
Big Bird did come over the loudspeaker and ask everyone to put their giant balloons under their seats, and I think by the end of the show almost everyone did, but it sure was a sight to see.
The person that enjoyed the show the most seemed to be Edward, who stared with rapt attention at the stage and bounced up and down for all he was worth during all of the songs. Of course that was before Ruby escaped and ran up to the stage to be with Elmo.
It really was Elmo's own fault, because he specifically asked all the children to dance, which was a terrible idea, but he did, and they did. Children filled the aisles, and how could we say no to Ruby? So we let her out, which was not a good idea. As she inched further and further down the aisle (we were sitting in the cheap seats in the back) Simone turned to me and said "I didn't think she would go so far..." Before we knew it, Ruby was at the stage, in the midst of a large group of children, doing all the dance moves that Elmo was doing, and singing at the top of her lungs. She is going to be a lot of fun at concerts when she is older, but last night her parents were getting a little worried. Especially when it became clear that the show was wrapping up and several families decided to beat the rush out of the theater and took to the aisles.
It always makes me nervous when we are at a large public gathering and I lose sight of my children, so I ran down to the front and grabbed Ruby. I told her it was time to go back to our seats and she followed me back up the aisle to Simone and Edward. At least, that's what I assumed she was doing, except when I turned around, she was back at the front, jumping up and down in front of the stage and shrieking with joy. So I went back and grabbed her again, and once again as soon as I turned around she was off in the other direction. That made it hand-holding time as we marched back to our seats and got ready to leave ourselves.
We let Ruby bring her birthday money to the show to buy a souvenir, and she picked out a pair of binoculars, which she has been using all morning to watch TV and look at things across the room, so it was a good purchase I think. In the end, we stayed up way too late and everyone is cranky this morning, but I think we all had a great time and it was totally worth it. However I see why my parents may have avoided it.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
I Need an Impossible Job
So this blogging thing is not as lucrative as I was led to believe. Opera singing is good work if you can get it, but the gigs, while certainly picking up, are still a little far apart for my tastes. So that means for most of my time I am watching television, surfing the internet, and moaning about how much more money I wish I had. The obvious solution here is to get a job, but my job requirements are so bizarre that I don't know if I will ever find one.
1) Only Nights and Weekends
This is not so bizarre in and of itself, but it does put me in competition with all/most students, as well as anyone who is looking for a second or third job. I wish I could work during the day, but I am home watching two kids during the day, and in order to actually make money after paying for childcare and time and gas and all of that, the job would have to pay upwards of $15/hour, and I don't know a lot of part time jobs that do that.
2) Part Time
Oh yeah, it has to be part time too. I cannot work 40 hours a week in the evenings and weekends, plus watch kids all day, plus learn music, plus write blogs and watch too much television. So it has to be a part time job.
3) Super Flexible
Sometimes I get a call for an audition with only a day or two notice, but even when I have a week or two or three to plan, I have to be able to say "Yeah, I know I usually work Wednesdays, but I have to go to New York next Wednesday" and have it be all right. Generally when you have a part time job that is nights and weekends, you are fairly beholden to a regular schedule, at least in my experience. And that weekly flexibility isn't even the half of it!
4) Large Amounts of Time Off
I need this job to be okay with me leaving for weeks at a time at various points throughout the year to sing operas. I would love to find a job today, but I will be in Florida from April 15-May 15, and then be singing with Middlebury Opera from May 22-June 12. What job am I going to find that lets me come and go as I please?
So there it is, my impossible job description. I think my perfect job would be "Extra Shift Covering Guy," where I could learn the job, and then cover shifts for people who needed to switch around days and/or go on vacation, but I have looked everywhere, and have not seen any jobs posted for Extra Shift Covering Guys. So I turn to you, dear readers. Anyone have any ideas as to how I can turn my months of free time between gigs into lucrative business opportunities? I just feel like I should be contributing something financially to my family. Also, I would kind of like to buy a Playstation 3. I await your collective knowledge!
1) Only Nights and Weekends
This is not so bizarre in and of itself, but it does put me in competition with all/most students, as well as anyone who is looking for a second or third job. I wish I could work during the day, but I am home watching two kids during the day, and in order to actually make money after paying for childcare and time and gas and all of that, the job would have to pay upwards of $15/hour, and I don't know a lot of part time jobs that do that.
2) Part Time
Oh yeah, it has to be part time too. I cannot work 40 hours a week in the evenings and weekends, plus watch kids all day, plus learn music, plus write blogs and watch too much television. So it has to be a part time job.
3) Super Flexible
Sometimes I get a call for an audition with only a day or two notice, but even when I have a week or two or three to plan, I have to be able to say "Yeah, I know I usually work Wednesdays, but I have to go to New York next Wednesday" and have it be all right. Generally when you have a part time job that is nights and weekends, you are fairly beholden to a regular schedule, at least in my experience. And that weekly flexibility isn't even the half of it!
4) Large Amounts of Time Off
I need this job to be okay with me leaving for weeks at a time at various points throughout the year to sing operas. I would love to find a job today, but I will be in Florida from April 15-May 15, and then be singing with Middlebury Opera from May 22-June 12. What job am I going to find that lets me come and go as I please?
So there it is, my impossible job description. I think my perfect job would be "Extra Shift Covering Guy," where I could learn the job, and then cover shifts for people who needed to switch around days and/or go on vacation, but I have looked everywhere, and have not seen any jobs posted for Extra Shift Covering Guys. So I turn to you, dear readers. Anyone have any ideas as to how I can turn my months of free time between gigs into lucrative business opportunities? I just feel like I should be contributing something financially to my family. Also, I would kind of like to buy a Playstation 3. I await your collective knowledge!
Monday, March 21, 2011
Cake Decorating
My mother always made us awesome birthday cakes. We would tell her every year what we wanted to have on our cakes, and she would somehow manage to draw it. One year I asked for Jokey Smurf, holding an exploding package, mid-explosion. And she did it. I don't know how, and I don't think she knows how either, but it was awesome, and it made me want to be awesome too.
For Ruby's first birthday, she obviously could not ask me for anything, but she did love one thing, and that was the Doodlebops. We watched them every day, we listened to their CDs and got their DVDs, and we even saw them live in concert, so there really was only one choice for the cake. It was my first attempt at such a feat, and it went pretty mediocre I would say. The picture makes it look a lot better than it did in person. Rooney looked like his face was melting, DeeDee looked like a skeleton, and Moe looked like a furry jack o'lantern, but Ruby was only turning one, so it was okay.
When she turned two she still loved the Doodlebops, but I was not going to repeat myself. She was still too little to really care what was on her cake, so I went with her new favorite show, Mickey Mouse. I felt that it came out a little better, although Ruby didn't seem to know who it was on the cake.
Finally, when she turned three, she had an opinion. She wanted a princess cake. In fact, she wanted the princess cake from the store, which the artist inside of me balked at, but since it happened to be a busy sort of March for us, what with Simone being 9 months pregnant and all, I agreed. When I went to pick up the cake at the store, it had a huge crack down the middle of it, did not include the princesses in the picture we had seen, and one of the princesses was broken. I was furious, especially when they told me it was too bad for me, and would I like $2 off of the price of the cake. If you have ever been to Taco Bell with me when they have given me the wrong type of Chalupa, you know that I am not one to take this sort of thing lightly. I got the manager involved, I demanded a new cake, and I eventually got one, about five minutes before the party was to begin. I could have done it so much better and so much faster.
Having vowed to never again buy a cake from the damned store, this year I just asked Ruby what she wanted me to draw on her cake. She said Toy Story, which meant about 45 different characters which were all her favorites. Well, since we were expecting 35 people at her birthday party, I decided to make two cakes anyway, which made drawing characters a little easier. I put five characters on, and I don't know if it was my best work, because I was a little rushed. Sadly, I was still decorating cakes when the guests started arriving. Still, I think it is an improvement over my Doodlebops cake, and I can't wait to see what she wants me to draw next year!
For Ruby's first birthday, she obviously could not ask me for anything, but she did love one thing, and that was the Doodlebops. We watched them every day, we listened to their CDs and got their DVDs, and we even saw them live in concert, so there really was only one choice for the cake. It was my first attempt at such a feat, and it went pretty mediocre I would say. The picture makes it look a lot better than it did in person. Rooney looked like his face was melting, DeeDee looked like a skeleton, and Moe looked like a furry jack o'lantern, but Ruby was only turning one, so it was okay.
When she turned two she still loved the Doodlebops, but I was not going to repeat myself. She was still too little to really care what was on her cake, so I went with her new favorite show, Mickey Mouse. I felt that it came out a little better, although Ruby didn't seem to know who it was on the cake.
Finally, when she turned three, she had an opinion. She wanted a princess cake. In fact, she wanted the princess cake from the store, which the artist inside of me balked at, but since it happened to be a busy sort of March for us, what with Simone being 9 months pregnant and all, I agreed. When I went to pick up the cake at the store, it had a huge crack down the middle of it, did not include the princesses in the picture we had seen, and one of the princesses was broken. I was furious, especially when they told me it was too bad for me, and would I like $2 off of the price of the cake. If you have ever been to Taco Bell with me when they have given me the wrong type of Chalupa, you know that I am not one to take this sort of thing lightly. I got the manager involved, I demanded a new cake, and I eventually got one, about five minutes before the party was to begin. I could have done it so much better and so much faster.
Having vowed to never again buy a cake from the damned store, this year I just asked Ruby what she wanted me to draw on her cake. She said Toy Story, which meant about 45 different characters which were all her favorites. Well, since we were expecting 35 people at her birthday party, I decided to make two cakes anyway, which made drawing characters a little easier. I put five characters on, and I don't know if it was my best work, because I was a little rushed. Sadly, I was still decorating cakes when the guests started arriving. Still, I think it is an improvement over my Doodlebops cake, and I can't wait to see what she wants me to draw next year!
Friday, March 18, 2011
Don't Wake the Steve
It was laundry day again, and you may recall that my trip to the laundromat did not go so well, so I decided to drive over to my mother-in-law's apartment and do laundry there. There are toys there, and at least my kids wouldn't be bothering anyone else with their maniacal behavior. I did try to call first, but she didn't answer, so we went over anyway. Luckily I have keys.
My first dilemma was how I was going to bring three giant bins of laundry upstairs while carrying a baby. I decided to leave the kids playing in the car while I made a few solo trips up the elevator with the clothes. This was a pretty good idea, and other than feeling like a neglectful parent for a few minutes, it went off without a hitch. The second problem was that Steve was sleeping.
Steve is awesome. We like Steve. Steve lives in the apartment and works nights, so he sleeps days, and the last thing we want to do is to wake up Steve. So I start the laundry and decide the best thing we can do is to go to Costco and eat pizza. This worked well for a while, but eventually we had to go back and put the laundry in the drier, and we had more loads to wash. So my totally feasible plan was to bring two children up into a small apartment and have them sit quietly for a few hours. How could that not work?
Ruby was happy trying to build a fort out of cushions and pillows, which actually was a pretty quiet activity, so I lucked out there. Edward, however, decided that since it had gone over so well at the restaurant, he would take some hard toys and start banging them on the furniture as loudly as he could. The worst part was, his rhythmic thumping sounded a lot like someone knocking on the door, and even if you can sleep through some background playing and talking, there are some things we are just trained to wake up for, and I felt like door knocking might be on the list.
Edward was not happy that I took away his toys, so he started yelling and screaming, and Ruby started telling him, in her loudest stage whisper, that he was going to wake up Steve. I did manage to get the baby calmed down by playing ball with him on the floor, which I guess was Ruby's cue to start making up loud songs and jumping on the couch. I reminded her about poor sleepy Steve, so she was able to calm down long enough to knock her fort over and start crying. I put Edward down for one nanosecond to try and rebuild the fort, which gave him enough time to crawl over to the tall lamp next to the couch and bring it crashing down onto the coffee table. He thought that was so funny that he started squealing as loud as I have ever heard anyone squeal.
Now, maybe I was just more sensitive to the sounds, since I was trying so hard to keep them quiet, but it sounded to me like we were producing a noise level similar to the detonation of an atomic bomb. I scooped the children up and put them in the middle of the floor, far from any loud things, and explained once again that we had to be very quiet and that Steve was trying to sleep in the next room. Luckily the first load of laundry came out of the drier, so Ruby and I folded it as Edward unfolded it and threw it across the room. Finally, a quiet activity that we could all do for a long period of time!
Well, we spent a lot of time making noises, getting scolded, and attempting to destroy things, but Steve did not wake up, although I don't know how that is possible. Eventually my mother-in-law did come home, walked into the other room, sneezed or coughed or something, and woke up Steve. So he came out and we all had a lovely snack and I folded more laundry.
Steve went back to bed, I packed up the car, and we headed home, but I do feel good that he swears we did not wake him up, and I'm pretty sure it was better experience than the laundromat, but man, if I ever try to move into a place with no laundry facilities again, somebody slap me.
My first dilemma was how I was going to bring three giant bins of laundry upstairs while carrying a baby. I decided to leave the kids playing in the car while I made a few solo trips up the elevator with the clothes. This was a pretty good idea, and other than feeling like a neglectful parent for a few minutes, it went off without a hitch. The second problem was that Steve was sleeping.
Steve is awesome. We like Steve. Steve lives in the apartment and works nights, so he sleeps days, and the last thing we want to do is to wake up Steve. So I start the laundry and decide the best thing we can do is to go to Costco and eat pizza. This worked well for a while, but eventually we had to go back and put the laundry in the drier, and we had more loads to wash. So my totally feasible plan was to bring two children up into a small apartment and have them sit quietly for a few hours. How could that not work?
Ruby was happy trying to build a fort out of cushions and pillows, which actually was a pretty quiet activity, so I lucked out there. Edward, however, decided that since it had gone over so well at the restaurant, he would take some hard toys and start banging them on the furniture as loudly as he could. The worst part was, his rhythmic thumping sounded a lot like someone knocking on the door, and even if you can sleep through some background playing and talking, there are some things we are just trained to wake up for, and I felt like door knocking might be on the list.
Edward was not happy that I took away his toys, so he started yelling and screaming, and Ruby started telling him, in her loudest stage whisper, that he was going to wake up Steve. I did manage to get the baby calmed down by playing ball with him on the floor, which I guess was Ruby's cue to start making up loud songs and jumping on the couch. I reminded her about poor sleepy Steve, so she was able to calm down long enough to knock her fort over and start crying. I put Edward down for one nanosecond to try and rebuild the fort, which gave him enough time to crawl over to the tall lamp next to the couch and bring it crashing down onto the coffee table. He thought that was so funny that he started squealing as loud as I have ever heard anyone squeal.
Now, maybe I was just more sensitive to the sounds, since I was trying so hard to keep them quiet, but it sounded to me like we were producing a noise level similar to the detonation of an atomic bomb. I scooped the children up and put them in the middle of the floor, far from any loud things, and explained once again that we had to be very quiet and that Steve was trying to sleep in the next room. Luckily the first load of laundry came out of the drier, so Ruby and I folded it as Edward unfolded it and threw it across the room. Finally, a quiet activity that we could all do for a long period of time!
Well, we spent a lot of time making noises, getting scolded, and attempting to destroy things, but Steve did not wake up, although I don't know how that is possible. Eventually my mother-in-law did come home, walked into the other room, sneezed or coughed or something, and woke up Steve. So he came out and we all had a lovely snack and I folded more laundry.
Steve went back to bed, I packed up the car, and we headed home, but I do feel good that he swears we did not wake him up, and I'm pretty sure it was better experience than the laundromat, but man, if I ever try to move into a place with no laundry facilities again, somebody slap me.
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Facebook Tolerance
This is a plea for tolerance. This is a request for a return to civility. This is just me, tired of a certain kind of post on facebook. The irony is, what I wish people would stop posting, is requests for people to stop posting certain types of things on facebook. My hypocritical rant begins now.
There are a lot of different ways people use facebook. Some people use it to stalk people and try and hook up, which was its original intended purpose. Other people use it like twitter, to update people about what is going on in their lives. Some folks are just there to play games and waste time. A lot of people I know use it to share pictures of their kids with friends and relatives. Of course it can also be used as a business tool, to get the word out about your business or to attract potential clients/customers. These are all legitimate uses of facebook, but it seems that many people feel that facebook should only be used the way they use it, and get annoyed when others use it differently.
Perhaps I am one of the few people who understands a variety of facebook uses because I have been a variety of facebook users myself. I started out using it just for fun, "collecting" my friends, just like I did with MySpace and Friendster before it. After one of their more annoying site updates however, I basically left facebook and didn't sign in for months. Then I went to grad school, got bored between classes, and started playing all the games. I was playing Pirate games, Mob games, Ninja games, Viking games, Game Show games, you name it. And my wall was filled with requests to help me defeat sea monsters or join my mob. But then I realized that these games were eating up all of my free time and I had no life, so I stopped playing them.
Then I had kids, and my Mom (among others) wanted constant pictorial updates of my life, so I created a facebook account for her and started putting up pictures of the baby. This was my primary use of facebook for a few years. After Ruby learned to talk, she inevitably started saying hilarious things, a few of which I posted on facebook, and they got such a big response, I started posting the "Ruby Quote of the Day" fairly regularly, and continued putting up pictures whenever I had any.
Along the way, I also started amassing a large number of colleagues in the music business as facebook friends. It quickly became clear to me how helpful having a list of pianists, or conductors, or baritones could be in one handy place, with contact information to boot. Us self-employed singers use facebook like crazy, to promote recitals, shows, and concerts, and to keep a roster of talented individuals that we may need to use and abuse someday. So I get that too.
These days I primarily use facebook to post my blog, put up Ruby quotes once in a while, and maybe play a game or two while the kids are napping, but I have been through it all. It's actually kind of fun for me to see what phase of life my friends are in. When I see someone posting 4000 Farmville requests, well, I know what they are up to. And when I see album after album of drunken party pictures, I think, wow, you really should not be posting that stuff on facebook, but I get it. I love seeing pictures of my friends' kids, and I love hearing about my friends jobs, gigs, recitals, and everything else they are up to. My only true annoyance is with people who post live about TV shows that I am DVRing, because I get spoiled a lot (especially Glee, why does everyone post a play-by-play of Glee every week?), but again, I get it! They are excited about their favorite shows. I'm glad they are excited. I even make it through my crazy right-wing friends political rants, and I think, "Wow, I will never discuss politics with you over dinner, I'm glad you posted that!"
The thing is, facebook is just an extended social network. If you had a class reunion, some people would only talk about their kids, some people would make inflammatory political statements, some people would hand out business cards, and some people would be dancing naked on the tables. You wouldn't tell these people to shut up because you don't care about them in person would you? At least I hope you wouldn't! And you shouldn't do it online either. And if you really hate everything a person posts, there is always the option to block them, just don't ask them to stop sharing what they care about.
There are a lot of different ways people use facebook. Some people use it to stalk people and try and hook up, which was its original intended purpose. Other people use it like twitter, to update people about what is going on in their lives. Some folks are just there to play games and waste time. A lot of people I know use it to share pictures of their kids with friends and relatives. Of course it can also be used as a business tool, to get the word out about your business or to attract potential clients/customers. These are all legitimate uses of facebook, but it seems that many people feel that facebook should only be used the way they use it, and get annoyed when others use it differently.
Perhaps I am one of the few people who understands a variety of facebook uses because I have been a variety of facebook users myself. I started out using it just for fun, "collecting" my friends, just like I did with MySpace and Friendster before it. After one of their more annoying site updates however, I basically left facebook and didn't sign in for months. Then I went to grad school, got bored between classes, and started playing all the games. I was playing Pirate games, Mob games, Ninja games, Viking games, Game Show games, you name it. And my wall was filled with requests to help me defeat sea monsters or join my mob. But then I realized that these games were eating up all of my free time and I had no life, so I stopped playing them.
Then I had kids, and my Mom (among others) wanted constant pictorial updates of my life, so I created a facebook account for her and started putting up pictures of the baby. This was my primary use of facebook for a few years. After Ruby learned to talk, she inevitably started saying hilarious things, a few of which I posted on facebook, and they got such a big response, I started posting the "Ruby Quote of the Day" fairly regularly, and continued putting up pictures whenever I had any.
Along the way, I also started amassing a large number of colleagues in the music business as facebook friends. It quickly became clear to me how helpful having a list of pianists, or conductors, or baritones could be in one handy place, with contact information to boot. Us self-employed singers use facebook like crazy, to promote recitals, shows, and concerts, and to keep a roster of talented individuals that we may need to use and abuse someday. So I get that too.
These days I primarily use facebook to post my blog, put up Ruby quotes once in a while, and maybe play a game or two while the kids are napping, but I have been through it all. It's actually kind of fun for me to see what phase of life my friends are in. When I see someone posting 4000 Farmville requests, well, I know what they are up to. And when I see album after album of drunken party pictures, I think, wow, you really should not be posting that stuff on facebook, but I get it. I love seeing pictures of my friends' kids, and I love hearing about my friends jobs, gigs, recitals, and everything else they are up to. My only true annoyance is with people who post live about TV shows that I am DVRing, because I get spoiled a lot (especially Glee, why does everyone post a play-by-play of Glee every week?), but again, I get it! They are excited about their favorite shows. I'm glad they are excited. I even make it through my crazy right-wing friends political rants, and I think, "Wow, I will never discuss politics with you over dinner, I'm glad you posted that!"
The thing is, facebook is just an extended social network. If you had a class reunion, some people would only talk about their kids, some people would make inflammatory political statements, some people would hand out business cards, and some people would be dancing naked on the tables. You wouldn't tell these people to shut up because you don't care about them in person would you? At least I hope you wouldn't! And you shouldn't do it online either. And if you really hate everything a person posts, there is always the option to block them, just don't ask them to stop sharing what they care about.
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Edward Destroys a Restaurant
Having just moved, we decided to try out all of the local restaurants, and in a town with only one traffic light, that's not such a monumental task. On Friday we headed out to one of the last places we hadn't been, a rather upscale (for Richmond) Italian restaurant. By upscale I mean that there were tablecloths and curtains and waitstaff in button down shirts. It was very exciting.
Unfortunately, Richmond-Upscale is not the sort of place one wants to take a baby who is actually a Destructobot in disguise. Our first offense was before the meal even started. Edward decided to grab onto a spoon and bang it on the table like he was Justin Bieber. After a few minutes of this, the waitress came over with some toy cars and asked if he could play with those instead, as Edward was bothering everyone with his drumming. We took the spoon away and gave him the cars, which he proceeded to bang on the table like he was Ringo Starr.
After the food arrived, Edward decided that a good idea would be to grab the tablecloth and pull everything off of the table. Simone moved his highchair back away from the table, which unfortunately put him in grabbing range of the curtains, which he decided should be pulled down from the windows and destroyed. So Simone moved him away from the window, putting him in yanking range of the tablecloth once again. She spent the rest of the meal trying to find that magic spot between the table and the window where he couldn't reach anything (which did not exist) while attempting to distract him with food.
The food mostly went on the floor, the cars and spoons eventually went on the floor, and it was a miracle that the curtains did not wind up on the floor too. When we got our bill we paid it and left quickly, but not before Ruby decided to get in on the fun by making up a nonsense song and singing it at the top of her lungs over and over. The only problem was that the words she made up were "Tatty Fukk," which she shouted in a sing-song voice to the rest of the restaurant as we left.
On another note, the food was really excellent, reasonably priced, and I can't wait to go back!
Unfortunately, Richmond-Upscale is not the sort of place one wants to take a baby who is actually a Destructobot in disguise. Our first offense was before the meal even started. Edward decided to grab onto a spoon and bang it on the table like he was Justin Bieber. After a few minutes of this, the waitress came over with some toy cars and asked if he could play with those instead, as Edward was bothering everyone with his drumming. We took the spoon away and gave him the cars, which he proceeded to bang on the table like he was Ringo Starr.
After the food arrived, Edward decided that a good idea would be to grab the tablecloth and pull everything off of the table. Simone moved his highchair back away from the table, which unfortunately put him in grabbing range of the curtains, which he decided should be pulled down from the windows and destroyed. So Simone moved him away from the window, putting him in yanking range of the tablecloth once again. She spent the rest of the meal trying to find that magic spot between the table and the window where he couldn't reach anything (which did not exist) while attempting to distract him with food.
The food mostly went on the floor, the cars and spoons eventually went on the floor, and it was a miracle that the curtains did not wind up on the floor too. When we got our bill we paid it and left quickly, but not before Ruby decided to get in on the fun by making up a nonsense song and singing it at the top of her lungs over and over. The only problem was that the words she made up were "Tatty Fukk," which she shouted in a sing-song voice to the rest of the restaurant as we left.
On another note, the food was really excellent, reasonably priced, and I can't wait to go back!
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Ruby's Birth Day
Ruby turns four today. It's hard to believe that it's been four years since we started this crazy ride (almost five if you count the terrifying day we found out we were going to be parents), so I thought I would tell you about this day, four years ago.
Simone was pregnant, of course, and everyone was telling her that she was going to have a huge baby. We knew it was a girl, and we knew her name was Ruby, but other than that, we knew nothing about her. Because they all thought she was going to be huge (Ha! Wait till they meet Edward!) they decided that they should induce the birth, so we scheduled a day to go into the hospital. Simone's doctor specifically scheduled us to go in on March 14th, since he would be on duty that day.
The first thing we found out when we arrived was that Simone's doctor was not on duty. "Oh, he doesn't know his schedule," the nurse told us. "His wife does all that for him, he has no idea when he is going to be where." How reassuring. So they gave Simone some inducing juice and we sat around and waited. And waited. Luckily I had brought along a lot of comic books to read, but after a while I fell asleep in the weird "chair-that-almost-turns-into-a-bed-sort-of" that they had provided to me.
Simone had some contractions I guess, but it was going pretty slowly, and at some point in the middle of the night they decided to put in the epidural. Simone and I are both terrified of needles, but I was determined to hold her hands and help her through it, even though I couldn't technically, you know, look. So Simone and I gripped each other tightly with all four of our eyes closed. I'm pretty sure we were both screaming. Anyway, somehow we got through it, and it was all downhill from there.
The big problem was that at some point they rolled Simone over and half of her epidural came out, so she could fully feel half of her body, which must have been really weird. And when she complained that she could feel stuff, they just upped the dosage, which made one half of her body 100% numb, and the other half not numb at all. They did eventually figure this out, but it was sort of too late. Simone was off in woozy dopey land for the remainder of the birth, which was actually not good.
Big problem #2 was that Ruby's heart rate was dropping. I don't know if it was the crazy amount of drugs now in the system, or if it was just that she really was too big, but suddenly everyone in the room was very serious, and they rushed Simone to the operating room. That was by far the longest few minutes of my life. There I am, my pregnant wife, basically my entire life, being rushed into the O.R. while nobody will tell me anything and I am trying to get into scrubs as fast as I can. It was terrifying.
They did let me in eventually, and they delivered Ruby with forceps. At least that's what they tell me. I was not at that end, I was in the hand-holding area trying not to look at what the large crowd of people was doing with the forceps and other scary medical items. It was pretty crazy in that room, but at 9:43 am on Thursday, March 15th, 2007, Ruby was born. She weighed 8 lbs 3 oz and she was 20.5 inches long, which seemed big at the time, but again, that was pre-Edward.
The worst consequence of the whole O.R. debacle was that, due to hospital regulations that deemed operating tables "unclean," Simone was not allowed to hold Ruby when she was born. They let me hold her, and then sent her upstairs to run tests, make sure she was human, and stuff like that. Simone didn't get to see her for over three hours. I remember spending most of that day four years ago running back and forth between Simone's room and the nursery, taking pictures and videos for Simone, and trying to console my doped up wife who only wanted to see her baby.
Ruby did eventually come downstairs to see Simone, and life has been crazy ever since. I remember taking her home from the hospital and thinking "Oh God, what do I do with this baby?" I remember what a good baby she was, sleeping through the night almost immediately, and learning things so quickly. I remember checking on her every couple of hours to make sure she was still alive. But mostly I remember being so amazed at how I could love anything as much as I loved that baby.
Happy Birthday Ruby. We're going to have fun celebrating you today, but nothing will ever compare to that day four years ago, the worst and best day of my entire life.
Simone was pregnant, of course, and everyone was telling her that she was going to have a huge baby. We knew it was a girl, and we knew her name was Ruby, but other than that, we knew nothing about her. Because they all thought she was going to be huge (Ha! Wait till they meet Edward!) they decided that they should induce the birth, so we scheduled a day to go into the hospital. Simone's doctor specifically scheduled us to go in on March 14th, since he would be on duty that day.
The first thing we found out when we arrived was that Simone's doctor was not on duty. "Oh, he doesn't know his schedule," the nurse told us. "His wife does all that for him, he has no idea when he is going to be where." How reassuring. So they gave Simone some inducing juice and we sat around and waited. And waited. Luckily I had brought along a lot of comic books to read, but after a while I fell asleep in the weird "chair-that-almost-turns-into-a-bed-sort-of" that they had provided to me.
Simone had some contractions I guess, but it was going pretty slowly, and at some point in the middle of the night they decided to put in the epidural. Simone and I are both terrified of needles, but I was determined to hold her hands and help her through it, even though I couldn't technically, you know, look. So Simone and I gripped each other tightly with all four of our eyes closed. I'm pretty sure we were both screaming. Anyway, somehow we got through it, and it was all downhill from there.
The big problem was that at some point they rolled Simone over and half of her epidural came out, so she could fully feel half of her body, which must have been really weird. And when she complained that she could feel stuff, they just upped the dosage, which made one half of her body 100% numb, and the other half not numb at all. They did eventually figure this out, but it was sort of too late. Simone was off in woozy dopey land for the remainder of the birth, which was actually not good.
Big problem #2 was that Ruby's heart rate was dropping. I don't know if it was the crazy amount of drugs now in the system, or if it was just that she really was too big, but suddenly everyone in the room was very serious, and they rushed Simone to the operating room. That was by far the longest few minutes of my life. There I am, my pregnant wife, basically my entire life, being rushed into the O.R. while nobody will tell me anything and I am trying to get into scrubs as fast as I can. It was terrifying.
They did let me in eventually, and they delivered Ruby with forceps. At least that's what they tell me. I was not at that end, I was in the hand-holding area trying not to look at what the large crowd of people was doing with the forceps and other scary medical items. It was pretty crazy in that room, but at 9:43 am on Thursday, March 15th, 2007, Ruby was born. She weighed 8 lbs 3 oz and she was 20.5 inches long, which seemed big at the time, but again, that was pre-Edward.
The worst consequence of the whole O.R. debacle was that, due to hospital regulations that deemed operating tables "unclean," Simone was not allowed to hold Ruby when she was born. They let me hold her, and then sent her upstairs to run tests, make sure she was human, and stuff like that. Simone didn't get to see her for over three hours. I remember spending most of that day four years ago running back and forth between Simone's room and the nursery, taking pictures and videos for Simone, and trying to console my doped up wife who only wanted to see her baby.
Ruby did eventually come downstairs to see Simone, and life has been crazy ever since. I remember taking her home from the hospital and thinking "Oh God, what do I do with this baby?" I remember what a good baby she was, sleeping through the night almost immediately, and learning things so quickly. I remember checking on her every couple of hours to make sure she was still alive. But mostly I remember being so amazed at how I could love anything as much as I loved that baby.
Happy Birthday Ruby. We're going to have fun celebrating you today, but nothing will ever compare to that day four years ago, the worst and best day of my entire life.
Monday, March 14, 2011
Babies Do Not Observe Daylight Savings Time
Babies do not observe daylight savings time. This is because babies are smart. But what this means for the adults, is that the whole losing/gaining sleep thing is reversed. Many people across the USA sadly lost an hour of sleep yesterday, but not people with babies! We got to sleep later than ever!
You see, babies do not know how to read clocks, so they do not care that the clock says 6:30 am, they only know that it is wake up and party time. And if the adults change what the clock says, it has no effect whatsoever on when wake up and party time is. So now the clock says 7:30 am, and the baby has magically slept an hour later! Instead of getting up at 6:30 every morning, the lucky parents get to sleep until 7:30! This is a wonderful arrangement.
It does kind of screw you over in the fall, when suddenly the baby goes back to waking up at 6:30 and you were used to sleeping until 7:30, but at least everybody else will have gotten an extra hour of sleep, so you can ride the waves of their happy energy to stay awake.
In summary, daylight savings time is dumb and no longer makes sense in a post-agricultural society, but I'm feeling very well rested today, so I will give it a pass. At least until the fall.
You see, babies do not know how to read clocks, so they do not care that the clock says 6:30 am, they only know that it is wake up and party time. And if the adults change what the clock says, it has no effect whatsoever on when wake up and party time is. So now the clock says 7:30 am, and the baby has magically slept an hour later! Instead of getting up at 6:30 every morning, the lucky parents get to sleep until 7:30! This is a wonderful arrangement.
It does kind of screw you over in the fall, when suddenly the baby goes back to waking up at 6:30 and you were used to sleeping until 7:30, but at least everybody else will have gotten an extra hour of sleep, so you can ride the waves of their happy energy to stay awake.
In summary, daylight savings time is dumb and no longer makes sense in a post-agricultural society, but I'm feeling very well rested today, so I will give it a pass. At least until the fall.
Friday, March 11, 2011
Baby Traps
A few weeks ago I wrote a blog about setting traps for your baby, so as to prevent escape and destruction. I then received several comments demanding pictures or videos of said traps. The problem, of course, is that these traps are set up for times when I am trying to do something else, and not keeping 100% of an eye on the baby, so there were no pictures or videos. That being said, I always bow to popular demand, so I set up some of my best traps, and then encouraged Edward to break through them so I could satisfy the desires of my loyal readers. Here is a video of some of the better ones. Enjoy! You asked for it!
P.S. - Just so you are not confused, I bookended the video with clips of him crawling around, demonstrating the need for the traps, so there are no traps at the first or last. If I didn't say that, I know there would be questions. :)
P.S. - Just so you are not confused, I bookended the video with clips of him crawling around, demonstrating the need for the traps, so there are no traps at the first or last. If I didn't say that, I know there would be questions. :)
Thursday, March 10, 2011
A Day in the Life of a Baby
Babies are just like anyone else. They like to sleep in, lounge around, and start the day off with a delicious Coke.
But don't worry about their teeth! Babies are very concerned with oral hygiene. In fact, just the other day I found my baby brushing his teeth! Now that his mouth is feeling fresh, he's ready for a full day of work.
Work mostly involves pooping, but the average baby is very concerned about the environment. Here we have a typical baby sorting out the recycling, which isn't part of the pooping, but it's still very important.
Of course, after a long hard day of growing and destroying things, the baby will need to unwind by watching some DVDs. This is because babies are too little to have Netflix accounts.
Finally, the baby goes to sleep, dreaming of sugar plums, and getting ready for a new day of learning and playing, but mostly pooping.
But don't worry about their teeth! Babies are very concerned with oral hygiene. In fact, just the other day I found my baby brushing his teeth! Now that his mouth is feeling fresh, he's ready for a full day of work.
Work mostly involves pooping, but the average baby is very concerned about the environment. Here we have a typical baby sorting out the recycling, which isn't part of the pooping, but it's still very important.
Of course, after a long hard day of growing and destroying things, the baby will need to unwind by watching some DVDs. This is because babies are too little to have Netflix accounts.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Righteous Anger Flow Chart
People seem to be really angry these days, but I don't think they know why. Luckily I am here to help. You see, most anger is born out of fear. Fear of the unknown, or fear or something you know about yourself, stuff like that. But we don't realize this, and we think that all of our anger is righteous anger. This is why we are so self-righteous all the time. But honestly, we would be a lot happier if we could sit down and get over our fear induced anger. For instance, I am angry that the guy in front of me won't freaking drive, right when the light turns green, but really, I am just afraid that I will be late to work. And honestly, who wants to be at work?! Just relax! Now, there are a few times when you are right to be angry, like when people are committing genocide, or when the soda machine takes your quarter and does not give you a soda, so to help you tell the difference, I have created this handy flow chart. Just stick in whatever you are angry about, and then decide if the problem is with it, or with you! Fun!
So knock yourself out! Stick in "Gay Marriage" "Monsters in the Closet" or "Immigrants"! It's fun and it works with anything! Happy anger everyone!
So knock yourself out! Stick in "Gay Marriage" "Monsters in the Closet" or "Immigrants"! It's fun and it works with anything! Happy anger everyone!
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Laundry Day, or Why People With Small Children Should Avoid the Laundromat
Our new house has no laundry facilities, so last week, for the first time in about a decade, I went to the laundromat. I previously did not enjoy the whole "laundromat experience," but that was before I had two kids. Now the whole thing is just disastrous.
First of all, there is no laundromat in our town. In fact, there is not a laundromat in the next town over, in any direction. This means that any time I need to do laundry, it becomes a car trip with the kids in addition to just cleaning the clothes.
Second of all, we have way too many clothes. How can one little baby produce so much dirty laundry?! I filled up the trunk and the passenger seat and I can tell you, my clothes were a very small percentage of the pile. It had only been two weeks! Stupid house with no laundry facilities, grumble grumble, snarl, grumble...
Anyway, we get to the laundromat, only to find out that laundry prices have risen at rates comparable to gasoline prices, which I was not prepared for. I also discover that there is no ATM on site and no way to get more cash. I discover this, of course, after all my clothes are loaded and ready to go. So I start the loads I can, and then bundle the kids back up and head out in search of a bank, or something similar.
We found a supermarket, where I was able to get cash back from buying the Coke I desperately needed at this point, and headed back to the laundromat. Now I was able to start the last bit of laundry, putting that load about 30 minutes behind the rest of the clothes. This meant that I got to sit on the floor of the laundromat with two small children for a long, long time. Let me tell you, laundromats are not made for small children.
I was able to keep them mildly entertained, under the stares of everyone else in the place, until the first load was out of the drier. Now it was folding time, and so my children were let loose upon an unsuspecting gathering of exactly who you might expect to find at a laundromat at 11 am on a Wednesday.
Some highlights of that next hour included: Edward crawling around stealing other peoples socks, Ruby skipping around loudly singing a song she just made up about pooping, and both children constantly trying to escape from the facility.
We did finally manage to get the laundry done, and it did cost a little less than filling up my car's gas tank, so I guess it was an overall success, but that doesn't take away my horror at the fact that this is now a regular activity. There must be another option! I guess we could all become nudists. Yes, great idea! Well, ok, I'm not saying if we are nudists or not, but if you're coming over, knock first.
First of all, there is no laundromat in our town. In fact, there is not a laundromat in the next town over, in any direction. This means that any time I need to do laundry, it becomes a car trip with the kids in addition to just cleaning the clothes.
Second of all, we have way too many clothes. How can one little baby produce so much dirty laundry?! I filled up the trunk and the passenger seat and I can tell you, my clothes were a very small percentage of the pile. It had only been two weeks! Stupid house with no laundry facilities, grumble grumble, snarl, grumble...
Anyway, we get to the laundromat, only to find out that laundry prices have risen at rates comparable to gasoline prices, which I was not prepared for. I also discover that there is no ATM on site and no way to get more cash. I discover this, of course, after all my clothes are loaded and ready to go. So I start the loads I can, and then bundle the kids back up and head out in search of a bank, or something similar.
We found a supermarket, where I was able to get cash back from buying the Coke I desperately needed at this point, and headed back to the laundromat. Now I was able to start the last bit of laundry, putting that load about 30 minutes behind the rest of the clothes. This meant that I got to sit on the floor of the laundromat with two small children for a long, long time. Let me tell you, laundromats are not made for small children.
I was able to keep them mildly entertained, under the stares of everyone else in the place, until the first load was out of the drier. Now it was folding time, and so my children were let loose upon an unsuspecting gathering of exactly who you might expect to find at a laundromat at 11 am on a Wednesday.
Some highlights of that next hour included: Edward crawling around stealing other peoples socks, Ruby skipping around loudly singing a song she just made up about pooping, and both children constantly trying to escape from the facility.
We did finally manage to get the laundry done, and it did cost a little less than filling up my car's gas tank, so I guess it was an overall success, but that doesn't take away my horror at the fact that this is now a regular activity. There must be another option! I guess we could all become nudists. Yes, great idea! Well, ok, I'm not saying if we are nudists or not, but if you're coming over, knock first.
Monday, March 7, 2011
6 Months of Tenor Dad
Well, I did it. I set a goal to blog consistently for 6 months, and here we are. On September 6th I wrote my first post, and now, on March 7th, I was considering not blogging for the first time ever. Not because I am giving up, but because I am sick as a dog. I have had the flu, or a reasonable facsimile, for the past four days, and Simone is sick too, which means alternating between who is resting and who is watching the kids. Not much time for blogging. But I didn't want to let this milestone go by unremarked upon, so hooray for me, and I hope to have a more clear-headed post for you tomorrow. Now where's that Dayquil...
Friday, March 4, 2011
The Desire to Keep Our Children Cute and Stupid
When Ruby was smaller, her favorite food was pizza. But for some reason she could not/would not say "pizza." She called it "pizzi" and, after a while, so did we. "Ruby, do you want pizzi for dinner?" we would say. But eventually it became clear that if we all kept calling it that, someday Ruby was going to end up in 1st grade, asking for pizzi, and getting teased, so we finally started calling it pizza again, and now she does too. But I still miss my little 1 or 2 year old getting so excited when it was pizzi night.
In a similar, but seemingly more permanent, case, Simone's mother decided that she wanted to be called "Nina" by her grandchildren, but Ruby once again had trouble with this, and called her Nini. She still calls her Nini. We all call her Nini. The only trace left that she was ever called "Nina" is in the very beginning of Ruby's baby book, before we all made the switch. This one is less embarrassing though, so we're okay with it.
The problem is, I like it when Ruby mispronounces things. It's so cute! I wish she could be a funny-talking widdle girl forever! But as a parent, part of my job is to make sure that she knows how to fit in with, or at least deal with, society. We are social creatures, like it or not, and dang it, my children are going to know how to pronounce the names of common school cafeteria food!
Besides, there are always new little things to latch on to. Yesterday I lost another one, when Ruby finally managed to sing "The 12 Days of Christmas" correctly, instead of saying "7 Swans of swimming! 6 Geese of Laying!" My fear is that eventually, she will stop saying things wrong and will start pronouncing everything correctly. I guess I'll have to start planting mistakes in her vocabulary. From now, I will refer to kitchens as chickens. That will be hilarious when she picks that up! Wait, no, too obvious. She already knows both those words. Okay, okay, from now on instead of saying "spaniel" I will call all those dogs "Samuel." Great idea! Except that would be too mean, and I can't do it. *sigh* I guess I will just have to let her grow up and be a normal person. Or at least as normal as one can get in this house.
In a similar, but seemingly more permanent, case, Simone's mother decided that she wanted to be called "Nina" by her grandchildren, but Ruby once again had trouble with this, and called her Nini. She still calls her Nini. We all call her Nini. The only trace left that she was ever called "Nina" is in the very beginning of Ruby's baby book, before we all made the switch. This one is less embarrassing though, so we're okay with it.
The problem is, I like it when Ruby mispronounces things. It's so cute! I wish she could be a funny-talking widdle girl forever! But as a parent, part of my job is to make sure that she knows how to fit in with, or at least deal with, society. We are social creatures, like it or not, and dang it, my children are going to know how to pronounce the names of common school cafeteria food!
Besides, there are always new little things to latch on to. Yesterday I lost another one, when Ruby finally managed to sing "The 12 Days of Christmas" correctly, instead of saying "7 Swans of swimming! 6 Geese of Laying!" My fear is that eventually, she will stop saying things wrong and will start pronouncing everything correctly. I guess I'll have to start planting mistakes in her vocabulary. From now, I will refer to kitchens as chickens. That will be hilarious when she picks that up! Wait, no, too obvious. She already knows both those words. Okay, okay, from now on instead of saying "spaniel" I will call all those dogs "Samuel." Great idea! Except that would be too mean, and I can't do it. *sigh* I guess I will just have to let her grow up and be a normal person. Or at least as normal as one can get in this house.
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Full Body Extreme Toddler Ice Sliding
I went to pick up the kids from my mother's the other day, and discovered that they had invented a new winter activity. They had shoveled the snow off of the roof into a big pile, which had then partially melted and subsequently frozen over. This of course created a giant pile of sheer ice, down which the toddlers were flinging themselves with reckless abandon. As this seemed like a very safe and fun activity, I stood by and filmed them with my iPhone. And now, set to music, I present to you, the greatest hits of Full Body Extreme Toddler Ice Sliding!
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Another Reason That I Am A Huge Idiot
I have done some stupid things in my life, but usually there is some way to fix them. Not this time. This time, I am just a huge idiot, and there is no redemption. For Christmas, Simone and I got an MP3 Dock/CD Player so that we could listen to music in the house, now that we are all digital. The only problem is, it didn't work with my iPod, even though it advertised that it would. So I returned it a week or two ago.
Then, the other day, I decided to watch a DVD. Our DVD player is one such that the unit has no actual buttons, so to navigate menus and whatnot you need the remote, which I can never find. Well, I found it this time. Or rather, I found the nearly identical-looking remote that went with the MP3 dock I had returned weeks earlier. Yes, that's right, I packaged up the MP3 dock along with my DVD player's remote control and returned it to Costco. Weeks ago. And I just noticed.
I suppose my only hope is to try and get a universal remote that works with my DVD player? Of course that only solves the short-term problem. I have no idea how to solve the longer-term problem of being a huge idiot.
Then, the other day, I decided to watch a DVD. Our DVD player is one such that the unit has no actual buttons, so to navigate menus and whatnot you need the remote, which I can never find. Well, I found it this time. Or rather, I found the nearly identical-looking remote that went with the MP3 dock I had returned weeks earlier. Yes, that's right, I packaged up the MP3 dock along with my DVD player's remote control and returned it to Costco. Weeks ago. And I just noticed.
I suppose my only hope is to try and get a universal remote that works with my DVD player? Of course that only solves the short-term problem. I have no idea how to solve the longer-term problem of being a huge idiot.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Driving Through the Snow of Life
I live my life like I drive through hazardous winter weather conditions, which is to say I am excellent at it. Ok, that is not exactly true. I think my style of existing serves me better when driving through snow than it does when living my life, but I have noticed some startling similarities in how I handle the skids of life and the road.
The first rule of winter driving is to just go with it. This is similar to the "Turn Into the Skid" rule, but a little broader. If your car starts to go out of control on ice or snow, you need to let the car do what your car is going to do before you can start asking it to do what you want it to. If your car starts sliding backwards down a hill, you need to acknowledge that it is happening, realize you cannot fully prevent it, and then decide where you want to go from there. In fact, sometimes you can use the sliding backwards to get yourself into a better position to get up that hill. Slamming on the brakes at that point would be disastrous.
The second rule of winter driving, is to practice, learn, and pay attention. Or is that three rules? Basically, the more you drive in bad conditions, the better you will be at it. You will eventually recognize black ice, or potential black ice, you will get a feel for how fast you can go, or how fast you shouldn't go, in certain conditions. And the more alert you are, the better it will go for you. But this is true about pretty much anything.
Finally, and perhaps the most important rule, don't panic. Though I do find much of life confusing and annoying, I am generally pretty easy-going about it all. In life, sometimes I can be too relaxed about things, and it does me a disservice. I know that. But in driving, the worst thing you can do is panic. Driving, like life, is dangerous. There is nothing you can do about that. I have found that the harder you fight to stay safe, the worse you generally make it for yourself. If you know what you are doing, and don't lose control or yourself or your vehicle, you're probably going to be ok. And maybe you will drive into a snowbank, but it would be a lot worse for you if you suddenly started swerving and braking, sending your car wildly flailing into a spinning dance of doom. The last thing you want is to go over a cliff, or through a guardrail, or wind up driving into oncoming traffic. So relax. Bad things are going to happen to you, but you're going to be fine. Just keep driving. Or else stay off the roads. Seriously, some of us have places to be.
The first rule of winter driving is to just go with it. This is similar to the "Turn Into the Skid" rule, but a little broader. If your car starts to go out of control on ice or snow, you need to let the car do what your car is going to do before you can start asking it to do what you want it to. If your car starts sliding backwards down a hill, you need to acknowledge that it is happening, realize you cannot fully prevent it, and then decide where you want to go from there. In fact, sometimes you can use the sliding backwards to get yourself into a better position to get up that hill. Slamming on the brakes at that point would be disastrous.
The second rule of winter driving, is to practice, learn, and pay attention. Or is that three rules? Basically, the more you drive in bad conditions, the better you will be at it. You will eventually recognize black ice, or potential black ice, you will get a feel for how fast you can go, or how fast you shouldn't go, in certain conditions. And the more alert you are, the better it will go for you. But this is true about pretty much anything.
Finally, and perhaps the most important rule, don't panic. Though I do find much of life confusing and annoying, I am generally pretty easy-going about it all. In life, sometimes I can be too relaxed about things, and it does me a disservice. I know that. But in driving, the worst thing you can do is panic. Driving, like life, is dangerous. There is nothing you can do about that. I have found that the harder you fight to stay safe, the worse you generally make it for yourself. If you know what you are doing, and don't lose control or yourself or your vehicle, you're probably going to be ok. And maybe you will drive into a snowbank, but it would be a lot worse for you if you suddenly started swerving and braking, sending your car wildly flailing into a spinning dance of doom. The last thing you want is to go over a cliff, or through a guardrail, or wind up driving into oncoming traffic. So relax. Bad things are going to happen to you, but you're going to be fine. Just keep driving. Or else stay off the roads. Seriously, some of us have places to be.
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