Tag Archives: Parenting

Clothe Your Babies For Fuck Sakes

I hate parenting blogs, but I have a blog, and outside of working and sleeping I pretty much spend the majority of my time parenting. So if the entries are sparse these days, that’s why. Found my self suitably irritated the other day at the park. It was a warm summer day, and I saw this mother playing with her (I’m guessing) 2-year-old daughter. The daughter is chaos, as most 2-year-olds are, and is wearing only a diaper and a shirt. I see this a lot. Parents thinking that diapers are suitable pants or shorts. I have an opinion on this. You know what it is if you’ve read the title. I just can’t come up with an acceptable reason for why you couldn’t put proper clothes on a kid if you were going out somewhere. I did try though. I don’t like being judgy. It’s not my place. It’s just one of those stupid things that eats away at me. The following paragraphs explore some of the ideas that went through my head surrounding this.

Let’s start with the kid at the park. Was it warm? Yes. Hot even. A hot summer’s day. Would the argument have been that it was too hot for pants or shorts? I’m certain it was. Parents don’t usually admit to laziness, so I’m guessing if I confronted this lady, she’s gonna cop to the overheated baby argument. My kid owns shorts that are so thin, that you can barely feel them on. Plus they are great at protecting that vulnerable baby thigh area from harmful UV rays, burning hot playground slides, and those annoying wood chips that playground architects think are so important to have, but serve absolutely no purpose whatsoever. So to that argument I say put some shorts on your kid.

Is it the money? Hey, I understand if you can’t afford clothes for your toddler……. sort of. I’m speaking for the 1st world of course, but if you know where to shop, and aren’t super picky, a pair of shorts for a toddler can often be found for less than the price of a Big Mac combo, and you know that’s true.

Have you never seen a baby blast a liquidy shit out of the side of their diaper before? Why would you tempt fate like that? I know there are parents that do this in their own homes. Just let the kid run around in their diaper. Doesn’t seem as bad when you’re not going anywhere, but do you really want shit on your carpet? I know it doesn’t happen often, but who knows when that kid’s digestive system is going to take a day off……throw some pants or shorts on the kid, and you’ve got an extra layer of protection. Maybe their little knees won’t get as scuffed up when they crawl around or fall down.

Is it a laundry issue? Bullshit. Do you know how insignificant a pair of toddler shorts is in a full load of laundry? “Oh they’re just going to get their pants dirty anyways….” That’s like not driving a car because you’ll eventually run out of gas. It’s true, but it’s a stupid reason not to do it.

Most importantly as a parent, it’s our responsibility to make decisions for our kids until their old enough to make their own decisions. Going forward I would like to see all mothers who don’t put pants on their babies before bringing them to the park, actually come to the park in just their underwear. Am I trying to create pervy situations with some cheap thrills for all park goers? No, I just think that if you aren’t a hypocrite, this is what you should do, because you have your baby/toddler who has no choice in the matter, going out in the equivalent.

Lastly, please don’t tell me it’s a difficult thing to do. While I would have confidently written this blog even if I didn’t have kids, I have one, and he leaves the home fully clothed every day. Yeah we all have a lot on our plate, but putting a pair of shorts on my son is one of the easiest things I do all day. Unless he’s holding a toy gun and trying to engage me in combat, but even then, it still gets done.


Personal (And Not So Personal) Updates For Your Consideration

Says here that my last post here was in January. That makes this by far the longest Thoughts and Rants in Jogging Pants drought ever. Man, I used to do this once a week without fail. While I was looking back to see how long it had been since my last post, I glanced at the stats page. It kind of made me feel nice and I want to pass on thanks, should any of you be responsible for this phenomenon. This isn’t the most prolific and well-known blog out there, but despite the fact that I haven’t posted here in close to 3 months, at least one person has visited this site to read one of my blogs every day in the last month. That’s fuckin cool, I’m sorry to get swearing so quickly, but it just is. Makes me feel warm inside. Every day except March 20th. So uhhhh, where were you guys on the 20th, huh??? Not one of you could click over for 5 minutes??? 😉

There’s one post in particular that shows up in the stats a lot. I have NO idea why. I think it gets googled by total strangers. It’s called “Guys, Your Feet Are Fucking Ugly”, and I wrote it in July of 2014. Usually a post gets its most views the day or week it’s originally posted. To give perspective it got 42 views the day it was posted. It finished the year with 70 views. In 2015 it had 217 views, and mid way through April this year it’s trending way higher than that. I’m curious to know why. It’s sort of funny, but not my best work. If you feel like reading it, here’s the link https://thoughtsandrantsinjoggingpants.com/2014/07/02/guys-your-feet-are-fucking-ugly/ According to my stats, someone looks at this almost everyday. So weird. Skip to the 3rd paragraph if you read it.

Also on the bloggy linky topic, I started contributing to another blog site called “Everything MLB Inc”. I blog about the Toronto Blue Jays once a week. I guess that’s why I haven’t been doing this blog. There’s a small part of my that always wanted to be a sports reporter or something like that. So for 2016 I’ll do it. I hope the Jays’ season is as magical as last year. If you follow another team, I can’t really vouch for this blog. I don’t think they have all their writers in place yet. Here are some links to my first few articles for those interested in Jays stuff. Close friends might enjoy how brutally inaccurate some of my predictions have been so far.
http://emlbinc.blogspot.ca/2016/02/toronto-blue-jays-2016-projected.html
http://emlbinc.blogspot.ca/2016/02/toronto-blue-jays-2016-bullpen.html
http://emlbinc.blogspot.ca/2016/03/toronto-blue-jays-2016-lineup-breakdown.html
http://emlbinc.blogspot.ca/2016/04/blue-jays-week-1-update.html

The movie thing…… Some readers of this blog might remember me talking about acting in a movie last year. For those that don’t, here’s that story…..
https://thoughtsandrantsinjoggingpants.com/2015/09/06/that-time-i-was-an-actor-in-a-kick-ass-movie/
Anyways, the update is that we recorded some commentary for the special features last weekend, because……. apparently there’s a distribution deal in place that would see this film available for purchase this year at some point (we’re hoping soon). Where will you be able to get it? Can’t say for sure, but pretty sure there will be physical copies (DVD, Blu-Ray) available for online purchase, as well as being available in digital form (iTunes etc). Super duper stoked for this. Will provide details when I have them.

Now for my version of Batman vs. Superman. My 3-year-old son loves Batman. His aunt bought him a set of 3 superhero costumes. This box and it’s contents have been put to way better use than just about anything he’s owned in his young life. I would say about 60% of his days, he wants to dress up in a costume at some point. Not having siblings, and perhaps not wanting to be the only super-hero at home, he tries to get my wife and I to wear the other 2 costumes. He is ALWAYS Batman. My wife who would often be in the room with him playing while I cook dinner gets to be Superman, and I get stuck with Robin. I try not to take it personal, even though it’s ridiculous because I tower over both of them, but I’m a good sport so Robin it is. These are sized for toddlers. If I could box I would do so in the heavyweight category. The little Robin mask is stretched to its absolute potential just to get around my face, and after a minute or two the velcro just gives out and slingshots across the room. So fun. So my wife, who is smarter than me, has stopped dressing up as a superhero, sometimes even saying “no thanks, but why don’t you ask daddy?” I can’t say no. So more days than not, I dress up in a toddler sized superhero costume, although I’ve been upgraded to Superman. Sometimes we play with train engines, and sometimes we fight crime. Then, one day my son finally said to me “Do you want to be Batman????” I jumped at the chance! After all these months of having to play superheroes with lesser cool factors, I have reached the pinnacle of toddler sized superhero outfits. Yessssssssss……………………. Here’s the thing though……………….The Batman outfit’s got some stains on it, from a 3-year-old wearing it more than any other article of clothing. Yeah, they’re messy. Also, I’m back to having to wear a mask again. That mask is just as tight, but it covers more of my face and makes me sweat. That’s when I realized a HUGE and VERY IMPORTANT life lesson, taught to me by my own son…… We can’t all be Batman! Some of us need to be Superman, and others need to be Robin. Ponder that!


My Son’s First F-Bomb

It was going to happen sooner or later. I think I’ve taken to the parenting thing a lot better than I originally expected I would. I change diapers like an absolute champion. I cook more, and better. Most importantly, I’ve never absent mindedly left my kid anywhere which I think was a concern among immediate family for various reasons. The one thing that was never going to go well was the swearing thing. I swear. A lot. The more comfortable I am, the more I do it. If I’m around you and it seems like I’m swearing a lot, take it as a compliment. It means I’m being myself. As it pertains to pro-creation, it makes sense that I’m ultimately responsible for a lot of things surrounding my kid’s development, and speech is definitely included. The thing is, I’m pretty comfortable around my kid, so you see the problem. The odds are stacked heavily in favour of him eventually being exposed to a healthy dose of colourful language. What kid isn’t, right? Yeah, most kids aren’t…. not like this….. and don’t leave comments saying that you swear a lot too. Thanks, but you don’t. Not like me. I’m not proud of this, but I’m not really as ashamed as I should be either. Lets just say that if my son ends up being half the potty mouth that I am, I just hope I’m not the reason. But I will be.

I’ve slipped up around him. Quite a bit. I slip up around everyone. That’s just me. I almost can’t even keep swearing out of my blog. Think about that. Even if I swear impulsively in my blog, I could always delete and re-word. I don’t even do that. I’m only slightly embarrassed that my mom and her friends read this, but not enough. So with that in mind my son is being set up to fail (or succeed as an awesome swearer). He’s 3 years old and change. I’m honestly surprised that it took this long for as many times as I’ve used foul language in front of him, but F-bombs are not for everyone, and perhaps it took him time to gravitate towards the sheer power of its emotional expression, and how a well placed one can just free your soul for a split second (OK I’m over selling it, I’ll just get to the story).

I’m into Balsamic Vinegar big time. There’s a great place that sells all these different flavours of it as well as Olive Oil. It’s fresh, and they let you sample them out of the (casks??? I don’t know what the container is called) dispensers. I could spend all day in there until my insides cried for mercy. They pour it, and cork it. I spent more money on it that day than a human at my income level should, but I knew my next salad was going to be like a leafy chompy heaven, and was looking quite forward to this. Had to get a traditional Balsamic, as well as a flavoured one. I chose Espresso flavour. It tastes like Balsamic Vinegar, but the aftertaste is like you just ate a Coffee Crisp.

When it’s finally time to prepare this salad, I’m only too excited to pour this liquid euphoria onto my salad. As I try to take the cork out (it’s a cork with a plastic lid on top, so you can open it with your hands as opposed to cork that would be in a wine bottle that you would use a corkscrew for…… just in case you had trouble picturing it……because if you can’t picture it, it fucks up the story……. oh there I go again), and the plastic top breaks off, leaving me with no easy way to open the bottle. Also leaving me with an unusable lid for my bottle. Now that really sucked, and I was frustrated, but I had another bottle, so I figured, let’s try that one? This is still good. Then I tried to open that one, and the exact same thing happened to the other cork, and that left me with no re-course but to have an immature temper tantrum in the kitchen, during which, I exclaimed loudly/angrily “YOU GOTTA BE FUCKING KIDDING ME!” That, my friends, is par for the course, but what happened after isn’t. My son who was playing with toy trains in his bedroom with my wife, stood up and looked her in the eye, balled up an angry little fist, and screamed as clear as day “YOU GOTTA BE FUCKING KIDDING ME!!!!!!!!!”

So it starts.


Four…..Eight…..Ten…….

I promised I wouldn’t turn this into a parenting blog. I’ve tried so hard to remain interesting without resorting to that. I tried to maintain this blog once a week. Now I’m lucky if I do it twice a month and it’s still a challenge to find anything interesting to say. Maybe it’s because I haven’t been riding public transit lately, and therefore limiting my exposure to nut jobs. Not to say that people in cars aren’t nut jobs too, but if I’m not in the car with them, it’s hard to catch them doing something idiotic for long enough to inspire me to write about it. So I have to write about my son this time. What can I say, I like him. I would probably write about him more, but to be honest I want to respect his privacy, especially while he’s young enough that he can’t make decisions on his own. That sounds crazy to most parents who flood the internet with all this ‘kid talk’, but I don’t want some chick he wants to date 20 years from now to google him (if that’s even a thing by then) and find out he did a bunch of weird shit when he was a baby, and his own father sandbagged him by putting it on the internet. I’ll have to answer to that. While he did bite me like a frigging vampire a couple of weeks back, I don’t think he had any malicious intent, so I don’t think there should be any retribution on my part.

My son is two years old. 27 months for those that count by months when the kid is over two, but if you are one of those people, you’re an idiot. Stop it. He doesn’t talk yet. No big emergency. It seems like a lot of kids his age talk, but he hasn’t quite figured it out yet. He knows some words. He’s putting together a few phrases. He’ll get there. I’m not worried. The things he has figured out seem crazy to me. If you’re telling him something he doesn’t want to hear, he’ll point at the door, and forcefully say “GO!” To the point where I’ve actually left the room because I didn’t know what else to do. He made it clear he doesn’t want me there, and if you heard him say it, he’s not fooling around either. So moody. I have no idea where he gets that, because neither of his parents get upset to the point where we order people out of the room. This kid’s got his own agenda.

Part of the not talking has to be my fault though. He’s too cute, I’m not even sure that I want him to talk. When he asks for ‘nacks’ I don’t even correct him, I just get him potato chips or something (yesterday it was Moroccan Spice flavoured chips, I shit you not, this kid will eat anything). Probably the most adorable thing that he does which I’m working on now (and please understand that I don’t use the word adorable, so for me to say it, it means cute to the 5 millionth power), is that he doesn’t count properly. He can count to 10. I’ve heard him do it, and when we do it with him, and prompt him, he seems to know which number comes next. In situations however, that require him to do a ‘ready set go’ thing, which numerically is represented by 1-2-3 or if it’s a countdown, then it’s 3-2-1…….. he says 4-8-10….. every time. It just makes me laugh, I can’t even correct him. I know it’s wrong, but its way more fun to go with the 4-8-10 thing. I mean, who cares??? Why does it have to be 1-2-3 anyways??? 4-8-10 are at least in ascending order. Plus you can’t correct him because 4-8-10 signifies some form of chaos which means he’s going to run away from you, throw a ball at or near the TV set, or smash a toy train into another toy train.

I guess the last thing would be picking him up from daycare. I’ve been doing drop off and pick up all week this week. It’s two very different experiences as most parents know. My son doesn’t wake up too early these days, and when I wake him up, it’s at the last possible second (because I want to sleep in too), at which point he usually tells me to “GO!” (and slaps at my hand) I usually give him a minute, but then we gotta get moving. When I drop him off, he’s less than 30 minutes removed from being asleep in his crib, so he slumps into his little daycare chair with his thumb in his mouth and gives me a dirty look as somebody passes him a bowl of cereal. When I pick him up I get a much different reaction. One that almost singlehandedly justifies procreation. He sees me, and drops whatever toy he was playing with, yells “DADDY”, and runs toward me. It’s like I’m a war hero in a movie, even though he kicked me out of his bedroom less than 8 hours earlier……. Now today at pickup the boy had a toy in each hand. One made of plastic, and the other of wood. When I walked into the room, he saw me, and threw the plastic toy to the side as he got up and ran over, but it hit this little girl in the face. I was super conflicted because my son was running towards me, super excited to tell me about the wooden thing in his hand (and thank god that’s the one he DIDN’T throw), and blissfully unaware that he had just pinged some other toddler in the forehead with his dramatics. There was no blood luckily, but an ice pack and an incident report were in that child’s future (she seemed OK when I left…phew). At some point I’m going to have to teach this kid not to throw his toys. We have to correct behaviour like that, but I can’t lie…. there was a small part of me that was pretty stoked that my son was so enthusiastic about seeing me that he was willing to endanger the safety of others to make it happen quickly 🙂


(Disgusting) Hopes For My Son’s Future

My son has picked up a few nasty habits in his 17 months on the planet. Or perhaps this is his natural state of being, and we as humans have to learn how not to be disgusting little germ magnets. (An aside in case he reads this in 20 years, Son…. I’m not calling you a disgusting little germ magnet…. but I totally could…. based on things I’ve seen you do… sorry…. if not for your mother and I….. and by that I mean your mother…… you would be completely filthy all the time……I’m just sayin’) I have a soft spot for my son though. Despite some of the verbiage surrounding my opinions on his hygiene, I only want the best for him in life. Son, the following is for you…….

I hope you continue to stick your finger in the cigarette burn holes in the fabric of life. Repeatedly! It means that you want to push the limits and continue to be unafraid in this world. Your curiosity to ‘see what happens if you do it’ will (get you in trouble usually, but) lead to adventure. It’s a good way to be, and if that’s going to be who you are, then be that person and don’t apologize for it.

I hope you continue to (figuratively) piss on your own face. The smell and discomfort of our own urine landing on our faces, possibly in or near our mouth and eyes, teaches us to be humble. No matter how successful you become in life (and I believe that you will be extremely successful), you should never get too cocky or arrogant because you never know when you will next ruin everything by urinating on your face. It’s totally cool. It needs to happen to keep us grounded.

I hope you continue to try to eat random things off the floor and other surfaces. It tells me that you won’t be wasteful and will try to get the most out of life. Just because that milk has been sitting out for 8 hours, and those Cheerios have been under the couch for 4 days doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t at least make an attempt to consume them. It might make you sick, but it shows me a willingness to be thrifty, and make the most of what you’re given. Finding treats in the couch cushion is also good training for when you’re a teenager, and you need to scrounge up some money. Couch cushions and coat pockets are gold!

I hope you continue to lick every surface you can get your tongue on. The world is yours to taste and savor. It means you will be open-minded. When you judge each surface on its own merit, and not assume that all surfaces taste the same, it teaches you to be tolerant and embracing of diversity.

I hope you continue to kiss the mirror when you see your reflection in it. You can’t love anyone properly until you learn to love yourself first. You come from a long line of proud mirror gazers, and I’m glad to see that the torch has been successfully passed.

I hope you continue to stare at women in elevators. Chicks love confidence, and while your ability to maintain eye contact through any sort of awkwardness is almost creepy, it works (as long as you’re really handsome) time and time again. If you could bottle that ability to effortlessly charm all the ladies that cross your path, we could get rich off selling that potion.

In short, just keep doing what you’re doing. No matter how disgusting some of it may seem, your old man will find a way to spin it into something good.


When Is The Right Time To Start Crushing Your Children With Pressure?

Today I found myself giving my son a pep talk. My words were the result of my expectations, and I was communicating them in a motivational fashion. It went a little bit like this….. “Son, don’t be allergic to peanuts!! I know you’re too young to understand right now, but your inability to consume peanut butter will put a real strain on this family. We eat peanut butter on toast almost all of the time. I love peanuts son!!! Not the way I love you…. I love you more, but I do love peanuts and peanut butter son, and I need you to not have a peanut allergy. Do you understand???” We were about to give him peanut butter for the 2nd time in his life (which they say is when the allergy will show up). He’s 16 months old.

I’m certain my son didn’t understand the full extent of what I was saying. He’s a pretty smart kid, but not the ‘I know how to talk’ kind of smart. Not yet anyways. He looked at me when I gave the speech, so I know he was listening. I also know that I was holding a cracker at the time of the speech, and he really likes crackers, so I’m not sure if he was focused on Daddy, or simply waiting for me to feed his bottomless pit of a stomach. As I was talking, I felt myself transferring my pressure and anxiety on to his little shoulders. Almost like it was in slow motion, I could feel the disapproving looks of my wife, mother, sister and 3 month old nephew, who were all in the room. Was it too soon? Is he not ready to handle the pressure? Was I wrong?

Parents usually suck at life, and what’s the point of having kids if not to try to make them suck less than we do. We pressure our kids. Whether we mean to or not, we just do. We have to. Somehow if our kids end up not as completely stupid as we all are, then we feel that we’ve redeemed ourselves for our miserably disappointing lives. We can then take FULL credit for their achievements and accomplishments.

I’ve been watching the Olympics a lot this week. What do you notice when you watch the Olympics?? A lot of kids under a lot of pressure. Not only from their parents, but signing up for the Olympics means you get pressure from everybody else’s parents too. Especially if you’re from the same country as them. (The media has the nerve to get on Patrick Chan for not winning a Gold in Figure Skating. He won a Silver, which is awesome, but that’s not good enough for certain rotten cheese doodle eating members of the Canadian Sports Media, but that’s another story). For them to be some of the world’s best athletes, they have to be under pressure. Oh, I know what you’re thinking…. ‘They all put themselves under that pressure because they are so dedicated to their craft’. Sure, that’s probably true, but they learned it somewhere.

It starts at home. It can start when you’re a toddler, and it can start with your father trying to talk you out of having an allergy. Hey, if my son goes to the Olympics someday and ‘puts a lot of pressure on himself to be the best’, I’ll know in my heart of hearts that me pressuring him into not being allergic to peanuts made him a more intense competitor. You can never start too young. Crushing them with your hopes and dreams! They’ll have to endure it later on anyways. You’re not doing them any favors by waiting until they’re 7 or 8 years old.

Now I was going to stop there, and I’m not saying that I don’t trust my readers to know when I’m joking, but……. I’m sort of joking about some of this. Kind of.


What Will He Say When He Finally Talks?

My son is 1 year old. How do you say that? That doesn’t sound right. My son is 1 years old. 1 is not plural, and I don’t think that’s right either. Now I finally understand why people use months until the kid is 2. My son is 13 months old. He’s starting to talk quite a bit. Not any language that you or I would understand. He’s developed his own dialect. I’m quite impressed with his commitment to it. As long as he seems convinced that he’s saying something meaningful, then I don’t really care if I can understand it or not. I guess there’s a shelf life for that sentiment, but at 13 months, I’m not sweating it. It’s pretty charming actually, and it got me thinking the other day that it might even be better than when he starts to talk for real. What could he possibly have to say? Then again, who knows? Maybe the thoughts going through is head are completely fascinating. Time will tell.

I did make a list of things that I’m pretty sure he’s tried to say to me already. I don’t know how long I’ll have to wait to give him this list, so he can give it a once over and let me know how accurate it is. It’s just that there have been a bunch of different occasions where I’m pretty sure I know what he was trying to say, even though he couldn’t find the right (English) words.

In no particular order, here’s my list of what I think he wanted to say………..

“Dad, I don’t want to wear a diaper today… be flexible man… I won’t poo man, don’t worry about it. I’ll give you warning if I’m gonna poo. C’mon man, be cool. Dammit!”

“This book has too many words, and not enough pictures….. I’d like you to read me this other book that has the pull-tab that makes the baby walk across the page…… I want to rip that baby’s head off.”

“I really want you to turn that ceiling fan on. Good. No, not that speed, the faster one. No, faster than that. No, slower. Now faster. Can you get that light to go on too? Perfect, now speed up the fan. Actually, slow the fan down and kill the light. Can you get it to go in between those speeds? I’m hungry.”

“Seriously, why have you put me in this high chair? Where’s the food? Why would you put me here if the food wasn’t ready? Seriously, how long for the food? Are you even working on it? What are you doing in there? Where’s my food? I’m really hungry. The thing is, I wasn’t even that hungry, but now that you’ve put me in the chair, I feel like I should be eating, but where’s the food? You’re sending me mixed messages, usually when I sit here there’s food. Where’s the food? Dad, honestly…. are you new? Mom does this faster. Oh my god! Is this a new thing where I sit here and don’t get food? Don’t pass me a toy, we’re way past that, where’s the food? Oh thank god, nom nom nom nom nom….”

“Good morning dad!! I can’t believe I just slept for 12 hours, it was awesome. I barely remember any of the high-pitched shrieking I did right before I went to bed. I totally slept that off, great sleep. Wait, where are you? Oh there you are…. you were hiding, but then you popped out!! Bwahahahaha… Hilarious, do it again! Hahahahahahahaha!! Oh that’s funny, wait…. I don’t see you….There you are! Hahahahahahahahaaaaaaa…. You kill me man!”

“I really like this news channel dad. I love it when the stock ticker goes across the bottom. When’s this Rob Ford thing gonna go away? I’ve spent my entire life watching this stupidity unfold. This guy doesn’t know how to act. I could totally get away with acting like that, but I don’t! I’m 13 months old, and I know better. Dad, did you vote for this bozo? Seriously, did you? It’s okay to say you did. Did mom? Well somebody must have voted for him. Seriously, did you? I won’t laugh. OK, I believe you. I’m hungry.”