Mentally Sexy

So my friends over at dad-blogs.com have launched an attempt to find the "World's Mentally Sexiest Dad".

Below is my entry for this contest, including the photo. There are several reasons to enter this contest, one of which being an iTouch for the winner...

...and we all know how much Big Brother loves "HIS laptop puter."

The prologue to this contest reads:
"Did you know it was recently discovered that men who help around the house, take care of the kids and generally make life easier for their significant others are considered sexy. In other words, moms don't judge us by our looks but moreso by our deeds."

*****
So Why I am Mentally Sexy?

Being Mentally Sexy isn't something that's done to score "husband points", to look good for others, or to win a contest. It's a fundamental part of who I am as a husband and father, a core belief of my personality.

In other words, being Mentally Sexy is about the way I choose to live my life and set my priorities. Sure, it's great to surprise your wife with a things like flowers, chocolate, a massage, or a romantic dinner periodically. It's also great to surprise your kids with a special "date" or treat. But being Mentally Sexy is really about the little day-to-day things that you do EVERY day.

My mom always said that you should care about your spouse more than you care about yourself. She was partially correct. I'd aruge that you should care about the two of you as a couple than more than you care about yourself. That might mean taking time for yourself--like for regular exercise--which ultimately benefits you both.

I have a wonderful wife of almost 7 years. We have 3 boys, ages 5, 2, and 1 month.

My wife and I are a team--we take equal share in the responsibilities of marriage and parenthood.

I work full-time, but am home most every evening and weekends. Those evenings and weekends that I'm not home, I'm working at a second job to help put together a down payment on our new house.

After the work day ("first shift") has ended, I come home for the "second shift" (my favorite). This means picking up the boys, going to their activities, fixing dinner (whoever is home first gets its started), playing, bathing, story reading, and goodnight-ing.

Some days, when my wife is really tired, particularly at times during her pregnancies with the boys, I tell her to just go to bed, and I take care of the above things myself. If she's running late from work, dinner is on the table when she gets home (never mind the kitchen is a disaster awaiting cleaning). She does the same for me when I need it. Remember, it's an equal partnership.

After we pass out on the couch go to bed, we start the night/"third shift", as we have a newborn. When he wakes up (and I do, too, which is a majority of the time), I'll go get him and bring him to our room so that my wife can feed him. Then I'll change him and put him back in his crib. My wife and I have each had times that we've been up with the baby for an hour-or-so at night, without the other being aware.

The attached picture attempts to capture why it's hard a to have your house on the market with 3 kids age 5 and under, including a newborn the essence of daily Mental Sexiness.



Have a good week,
Busy-(Mentally Sexy)-Dad-E

What Not To Wear...At Gymnastics

Happy Fatherhood Friday everyone! I encourage you to jump, tubmle, and flip your way over to read the great bloggers over at dad-blogs.com.

So, for natural reasons, Bab-E Brother has been getting a lot of my blogging attention lately.

And on Wednesday, Little Brother took much of the "spotlight" while screaming to be held.

Thus, today it's Big Brother's turn, and I'm ready for another sports story.

To the chagrin of many, Big Brother has elected not to renew his participation in soccer.

Instead he's decided to move his jumping, tumbling, and flipping from inside our house to outside of it at Gymnastics.

So far, he's having a ball. Asks to go to gymnastics most everyday.

However, he almost never made it in to the first (trial) lesson.

On the way there, it's important to note that Big Brother was VERY excited about going to gymnastics.

We're standing in the "gathering area" outside the gym, waiting for the coach to call his group back. We tell Big Brother he can take his shoes and socks off, and put them in one of the many cubbies on the wall.

Suddenly, Big Brother runs out of the gathering area, and backs against the wall, screaming BLOODY MURDER.

"No, no, no! Let's go! I don't want to go to gymnastics! Let's go home! I want to go home NOW! Get outta here!"

We try to talk to him to find out what's so upsetting to him, but he's still screaming hysterically such that any attempt to use logic is futile.

Of course, with a newborn, a toddler, and a screaming 5 year-old, we stand out "a little bit."

Meanwhile, I'm feeling the hot laser beams burning the back of my head from all of the eyes in the room.

Distracted by the lights from the laser beams, Big Brother blurts out, "I don't want to wear one of THOSE."

"One of what?" I asked, trying to figure out what the heck he's pointing at.

Finally, I see him point at a gaggle of schoolgirls, when it dawns on us...

HE THINKS HE HAS TO WEAR A LEOTARD FOR GYMNASTICS!

Ahh, a major challenge of parenthood in a microcosm: Find out what's upsetting them, and the magic road to your child's happiness is revealed.

We pretty much just had to say, "You're a boy. You can wear what you're wearing," and he was off bouncing into a giant pit of foam.

*****
Ah, apparently great gymnastics stories run in families.

I, too, did gymnastics for a few years in my boyhood.

It was my first meet, and it was the first thing my dad ever videotaped.

I was on vault.

In short, the coach misplaced the location of the springboard.

I go flying down the "runway" and jump where the board SHOULD'VE been, only I landed in between the springboard and the vault horse.

My momentum carried me face first into the horse.

There was blood, but fortunately all teeth remained in my head.

Again, my father catches all of this on videotape.

And the worst part was that they had to give me a score of 0.0.

Priceless.

Have a good weekend,
Busy-Dad-E

P.S. Please don't tell Big Brother that if he does gymnastics for long enough, that the top of competition uniforms is, in fact, a LEOTARD. Seriously. No joke. Shhh!

To Have And To Hold

We've been at 3 kids for a few weeks now.

So far, outside of the fatigue associated with having a newborn, I'd say that the transition from 1 to 2 kids was harder than 2 to 3, and I think Mom-E agrees with me here.

When you go from 1 to 2 kids, as parents you no longer have an "extra pair of free hands" to do things (or REST), and that takes some getting used to. Going from 2 to 3, you're more accustomed to having your "hands tied" (and the insomnia).

However, given the ages of our boys (5, 2, and newborn), one thing has been a bit challenging:

Carrying multiple children when you're by yourself.

Fortunately, Big Brother is old enough to walk by himself (and we gave him some advanced notice that he'd have to do a lot of that after Bab-E Brother came along), except in occasional moments of tantrum.

By contrast:
1. Little Brother is accumstomed to having Dad-E carry him around A LOT

2. Bab-E Brother is exclusively breastfed, and despite the claim by Gaylord M. Focker, Dad-E is unable to be milked.

3. When Bab-E Brother is hungry, Dad-E's attempts to sing, rock, and calm him are futile, and screaming prevails.

4. Sometimes Bab-E Brother likes to feed for 30 minutes every half-hour, and so even if he just ate, he may want to eat again 15 minutes later.

5. If Dad-E is holding Bab-E Brother when Little Brother wants to be held, he screams, "Give Bab-E to Mom-E!", and screaming prevails.

6. While Dad-E is holding one of the boys, the other will poop.

Herein lies the problem.

As you can imagine, Mom-E likes to shower, exercise, and even go potty occasionally.

And so, invariably, while Mom-E is showering or exercising, both Little and Bab-E Brother are screaming and wanting me to hold them due to the need for food, a clean diaper, or consolation.

It feels like one of those "What would you do if both of your children were bit by a lethally poisonous snake, you only have enough anti-venom to save one (and it requires the entire vial), and the poison will kill them before you can get help. Who do you save?" questions.

I've tried, and don't recommend, carrying both (just long enough to sit down on the couch). It doesn't work, other than building my biceps.

If Little Brother poops, I'll put Bab-E Brother down in the crib for a minute to change Little Bro, but then I really don't have a choice to but to put him down and pick-up the baby.

Poor Little Brother, age 2 and all grown-up. Hold-on, my man. It'll get better.

Anyone have a potion or spell to help me grow an extra pair of arms? And can you throw a second pair for Mom-E?

Mom-E, how 'bout some of them "fake arms"? (inside joke)

See you on Fatherhood Friday,
Busy-Dad-E

Big Brother Turns 5

Dear Big Brother,

I can't believe you're 5 now. Didn't you just turn 4?

A lot has happened over the last year.

You've started pre-school, to which you've adjusted quite well. I love the
excitement of your voice when you talk about your school activities, aka "centers".

I'm jealous that you get to do your homework in blue crayon.

We have our first parent-teacher conference this week; and Mom-E & I are terrified excited to hear what your teacher has to say about you.

You're a good Big Brother even though sharing toys is hard sometimes. You're adjusting well following the arrival of Bab-E Brother. You've been Mom-E and Dad-E's excellent helper. Although it's not always the case, you're often very patient with Little Brother, and the two of you are becoming good friends.

You're still a picky eater, but we've made some progress through the use of sticker charts. You've even started to indulge in some vegetables. We went through a cucumber-obsessed phase, but for a while now you've settle on green peppers as your favorite.

I'm not sure if there's a genetic component to it, but your penchant for green peppers "brings warm feelings to my heart." When I was about your age, I would go grocery shopping with my mom and eat raw green peppers while sitting in the cart. I'm just happy that you're finally eating some vegetables. Hopefully green peppers are an available side dish at Granola Bar Hut.

You love to hear about funny things you said when you were "little." "When I was a baby, I called the kitchen the 'chicken'." Fortunately, you still have a few enjoyable phrases, particularly referring to instructions as 'constructions', and saying "I haven't done that in 100 years" (for things that are brand new).

Your charming personality has blessed you with friends at school and elsewhere. Mom-E and I have been pleasantly surprised to see you (when you don't realize we're watching) "take charge". (We never doubted your leadership skills, it's just that when you're around us in social situations, you're usually more shy and quiet.) You led your peers in a bell ringing celebration of The Polar Express at school. At your birthday party, you were the ring-leader of your buddies as you tooled around the "jumping place" (without ANY concern for Mom-E or Dad-E's whereabouts--hey, you're not allowed to grow up that fast).

This past year has also brought an evolution in your interests. Bob the Builder and Thomas the Train are giving way to an obsession with Super Heros. When it comes to tv and toys, your preferences these days (in no particular order), include Transformers, Thundercats, Batman, and Spiderman. If we're not watching them on tv or playing with toys, then we're building them with Legos.

And if we're not doing any of the above, then we're dressing like Spidey, and running around the house playing "Joker" and "Batman" and "Spiderman" (which pretty much consists of Dad-E chasing you and Little Brother around the house throwing blankets at each other shooting webs:


Keep up the good work, dude. Exciting times are ahead. I'm proud of you.

I love you, buddy,
Busy-Dad-E

The Red-Faced Boobie Juicer 2010

Happy Fatherhood Friday everyone! Be sure to check out all of the great bloggers over at dad-blogs.com. And be sure to pray that the people coming to our house today make an offer.

LEGAL DISCLAIMER: The following is what happens when Busy-Dad-E is chronically sleep-deprived for a period of several weeks.

Bab-E Brother Products, a subsidiary of Busy-Dad-E, Inc., is pleased to announce it's first and only newest product:

THE RED-FACED BOOBIE JUICER 2010

Are you a breast-feeding woman suffering from chronic, recurrent engorgement of les ta-ta's?

Do you wake up at all hours in need of immediate relief from the pain of swollen hoo-hoolies?

Are you tired of using and sterilizing those inconvenient pumps all day long?

Then you need a Red-Faced Boobie Juicer 2010.

Similar to Frodo's glowing sword when Orks approach...


...the face of the Red-Faced Boobie Juicer 2010 turns BEET RED every time your mammaries are maxed out, letting you know that it's time to juice.

You don't even have to worry about waking up to use it. The Red-Faced Boobie Juicer 2010 wakes YOU up. You'll never buy another alarm again.

Even better, it doesn't need batteries, and it recharges on it's own each time you juice.

And if that's not enough, the Red Face Boobie Juicer 2010 doubles as a heating pad, and makes cute, soothing suckling noises that have been shown in a clinical trial to lower blood pressure and cure insomnia.

The Red-Faced Boobie Juicer 2010 is also environmentally friendly. It doesn't come with any packaging or formula containers that end up in a landfill, and you can grow one yourself at home.

(Please ignore vicious rumors that are circulating about the need to change the filter every 2 hours, the lack of a mute button, and the juicer turning beet red for 30 minutes every Half-Hour all night long.)

Ask for it by name, the Red-Faced Boobie Juicer 2010, the juicer that really sucks.

Operators are standing by to take YOUR order.

Have a good weekend,
Busy-Dad-E
CEO, Bab-E Brother Brand Products

Big Brother Explains Lego Mania

At the age of (almost) 5, Big Brother has declared himself as the technophile of the family.

As I've said before, he can pursue whatever career elicits his passion (so long as it's legal).

However, it's still fun to wager a guess, and at this point he appears destined to become some kind of architect/structural engineer.

Lately, Big Brother has been captivated with Legos. He likes the "regular" Legos, but he also still has a penchant for Lego Duplo blocks (probably because he can build bigger things more quickly).

For a while now, Big Brother carries a bag with 6 yellow Legos most everywhere he goes. He started making all kinds of designs, and can change from one to another quickly.

What's been cool is that he'll ask, "Dad-E, what do you want me to make?" and just like a balloon animal artist, 10 seconds later he's got it.

Only very recently has he added a few more Legos to his bag (I guess he got frustrated when I asked him to make the Sphinx with only 6 yellow Legos).

And so, in pictures, Big Brother asked me to show you some of his favorite Lego creations.

These are his own designs. While Dad-E enjoys playing Legos, too, I didn't make any of these.

Presenting Big Brother's Lego-Mania! Enjoy!

See you on Fatherhood Friday,

Busy-Dad-E

Legos from busy dad-e on Vimeo.

MLK Day

Happy MLK Day, everyone.

My children have taught me many things, but one of them (that I've said several times before), is that prejudice is a learned behavior.

On this day, which encourages equal rights for all Americans, regardless of their background, I take a moment to pause and reflect.

I think of my (recently-turned 97) grandfather, who shared stories of his friendship as a younger man with an African-American colleague, during an era in which this was uncouth. Their friendship continued for many, many years until his colleague's death.

Thank you to my friends who are from cultures different from my own. You have added to the richness of my life's experiences, and I have learned much from you.

It is my hope that my children will see that Mom-E and I choose friends based on character, and not the amount of mealnin in their skin, just as my grandfather did years ago.

Have a good week
Busy-Dad-E

Preschool Psychotherapist

Happy Fatherhood Friday, everyone!

Big Brother, The Psychiatrist is IN.

And in case you still need more therapy after reading this post, check out the other great bloggers over at dad-blogs.com.




As I've recently chronicled, we've struggled to transition Little Brother to his toddler bed.

We first thought that the novelty of having a roommate whom he adores would make for an easy transition...

We thought wrong.

We then thought that tough love was the answer...

It wasn't (only worked for a little while).

Apparently, third time's a charm (aka hits you over the head like a ton of bricks): We put Big Brother in charge.

We have bath taking, tooth brushing, bladder evacuating, story reading, prayer saying, and goodnight kissing.

Then we leave. Big Brother was instructed to just "talk to Little Brother."

(To clarify, we further explained to him that Little Brother was a little scared about being in a new room and bed, and just needed reassurance. We also emphasized that it was a special time for the two of them to talk.)

Big Brother took the ball and ran with it. Granted, it's taken a few days to adjust to the new routine.

The first night, Little Brother partially climbed into bed with Big Brother, but ended up falling asleep in the precarious position below:


After that, it's been all downhill. Big Brother has become a therapist of sorts for Little Brother, a la Lucy from Peanuts.

Just tonight, 5 minutes after an utter screaming fit from BOTH boys for DIFFERENT reasons (Big Brother was hungry after picking at dinner and Little Brother didn't want me to leave him), they were lying in their beds chatting away.

The discussion is hysterical. We're lucky not to wake them up while we easvesdrop outside their door.

"Now, Little Brother, when you're a big boy you can't pee or poop in your pants."

"Yeah. I want to be a big boy."

"If you pee your pants, you need to change your clothes."

"I need to change my clothes."

Insert long pause. Little Brother finally breaks the silence.

"Where's my Dad-E? Is he helping Mom-E?"

"ZZZzzz..."

"Where's Dad-E?"

"ZZZzzz..."

Next thing you know, they're both asleep.

And now we know why his advice only costs a nickel.

But he's worth his weight in gold when it comes to getting Little Brother to sleep in that toddler bed.

Have a good weekend,
Busy-Dad-E

Great Things About Newborns

As a "new" father for the third time, despite the insomnia, I've enjoyed reminiscing and reexperiencing all of the wonderful things about newborns/having a newborn.

I'll share just a few here below:

-Newborns smell AMAZING (their skin, that is). Here's a free business venture for you (I'll take 25% royalty): someone should market a cologne with the newborn smell for guys called "Newborn." Talk about making you a chick magnet

-Newborn baby skin is unbelievably soft. I'm jealous, and I don't even like lotion.

-Only newborns can get away with looking extremely cute while farting. It's the smile--gets you every time.

-Newborns get to sleep like 20 hours per day. Again, I'm jealous. Enjoy it while you can, kid.

-Newborns have the unique ability to sneeze, poop their pants, and fall asleep in one fell swoop.

-Newborns are extremely cuddly, which offers the side benefit of a portable heating pad.

-Newborns fart and fart and fart, striking you with terror that they've "blown out" their outfit (we define a blow-out as poop that goes up the top of the diaper, onto their back, and dousing their outfit).

Of course, after all that farting and worrying there's only one teeny tiny seed of poop.

On the flip-side, it's always the teeny tiny farts that precede the blow-outs.

-Newborns love to be put into straight jackets swaddled. When they're all swaddled, I think newborns look like little (non-edible) burritos.

-Newborns can utter belches rivaling those of 200 lb men.

-Somtimes, when newborns poop, it fizzes like one of those "snakes" you light on the 4th of July.

-"Getting dressed" for newborns = putting on new jammies.

-Newborns exert the greatest degree of control over adults, per pound of body weight ,of any living creatures (so far, Bab-E Brother has made us buy a minivan and build a new house.)

-Newborns also require you to tote around the most "stuff", per pound of body weight, of any living creature. Sometimes I wonder if our diaper bag is bigger than "Her Royal Highness's Matched Luggage" from Spaceballs.

-If they want, parents of newborns can let their appearance go, because, let's face it, friends and family now only come over to see the baby, not you. :) (j/k)

-Having a newborn means you, as a parent, have a built-in "excuse" to play with toys for several years.

-Paternity leave (especially when vacation + sick leave = "complimentary paycheck.")
Of course, in Scandinavia, maternity leave is for one year. Again, I'm jealous.

See you on Fatherhood Friday,
Busy-Dad-E

Hey Bab-E What's Your Name?

Many moons ago, when Mom-E and I were first dating, I noticed something peculiar whenever I visited Mom-E and her family:

Both Gramm-E and Grampap, but moreso Grampap, always seemed to call Mom-E and her sisters by the WRONG name.

I'll admit that my first response to this was "SHOULDN'T THEY BE A LITTLE EMBARASSED THAT THEY CAN'T EVEN CALL THEIR KIDS BY THE RIGHT NAME?. (And none of their names started with the same letter.)

I really didn't intend to be hypercritical with this observation; in retrospect, I think it reflected my naivete' about such things. I was blinded by personal experience, being and only child (and my mother was an only child).

As I paid more attention, the usual pattern was to name the siblings in birth order (Mom-E, Aunt-E, CY Aunt-E) until you got to the right one:

Mom-E usually got called by the right name.

Aunt-E would be called Mom-E, no Aunt-E

CY Aunt-E would be called Mom-E, no Aunt-E, no CY Aunt-E (you can imagine how happy this makes a teenager.)

(As an aside, my all-time favorite name mix up came a few years ago when GRAMM-E called OUR house and left a voicemail that started out "Hi, CY Aunt-E this is Mom-E." Oops, poor Gramm-E. Still have that one on tape. :)

I of course wondered if this was a genetic thing. Gramm-E said her dad would always have to rattle sibling's names off in birth order before getting to the right one. Of course, the fact that Grampap was the more frequent offender sorta blew this genetic theory out of the water.

*****
Again, in my naivete', I vowed to call my children by the correct name.

I'll admit that when it was just Big and Little Brother, we'd occasionally interchange their names.

I'll also admit that when we were really tired, we'd interchange Big Brother and Pupp-E's names (which start with the same letter.)

Fast forward to the present day.

Both Mom-E and I (but moreso Mom-E) are having a really HARD TIME calling Bab-E Brother by the correct name. (Again, none of ours kids' names start with the same letter.)

I'd say about half the time we end up calling him Little Brother. As a joke, we've started calling him Little-Bab-E Brother when he's in his crib.

And so, I've figured out that this name mix-up thing has nothing to do with genetics.

I think that as new parents, you're just so UNBELIEVABLY EXHAUSTED that you're lucky to:
1. Call your child by a human name (as opposed to a family pet, mineral, or vegetable.
2. If you are able call them by a human name, your mind goes to times during which you were similarly exhausted. Hence, the propensity to mix up your children's names.

By the time you start to recover from this fatigue (of coursse you NEVER will), the pattern of mixing up names is ingrained and life-long.

I'm sure we'll call Bab-E Brother by the right name, eventually.

I just hope we don't cause any permanent damage.

*****
Any other experiences or explanations?

Have a good week,
Busy-Dad-E

A Bab-E Story

Happy Fatherhood Friday, everyone! I still have that "new dad smell."

*****
Dear Bab-E Brother,

Your whole Bus-E Famil-E is so excited that you decided to join us "on the outside." Everyone, yourself included, is adjusting well. Of course, we've loved you from the moment we first learned we were expecting your arrival.

Your Mom-E is particularly glad that you decided to join us 6 days early. We're not sure which was longer: the last weeks of pregnancy or Big Brother's soccer season. We'll interpret the fact that you came early as evidence of intelligence (or an attempt to kiss-up to Mom-E.)

I wanted to write you this letter to tell you the story of your birth and the first days of your life (and maybe offer a few predictions).

While there are certainly indelible personality traits that are shared between our Famil-E members, your unique personality is also shining through (in a very good way).

Mom-E had an induction of labor with both of your older brothers. You, as an apparent "free-spirit", came on your own terms at your own time, despite having been served with an official Eviction Notice.

It was about midnight. Dad-E and Mom-E were enjoying some "quiet time", watching a little tv while Mom-E cut out fabric for curtains for the new house (we wanted to buy a new house when we found out you were coming to have more room for 3 wild growing boys.)

Suddnely, Mom-E told me she'd been having some contractions that were a little more painful that others for about 2 hours every 20-30 minutes. We started timing them (with a rather cool iTouch application). When the contractions continued in the 10 minutes apart range, we decided it would be prudent to go to the hospital.

We put Gramm-E and Grampap on alert to come in the morning. We called Kid-neE, who had graciously agreed to watch your Brothers in the event Mom-E went into labor at night, despite his having to work the next morning.

We left for the hospital about 1am. We were most of the way to the hospital, Mom-E said "I haven't had another contraction since we left the house. Maybe we can go back."

Her words were followed by the most uncomfortable contraction to-date, so I kept on driving.

When we got to the hospital, they took us straight back to the delivery room, given that Mom-E was at least 4 cm, as of her last appointment. That was a good thing, because after we got settled in, it turned out that Mom-E was already 7-8 cm. She was able to get her epidural pretty much "in the nick of time."

You were born just after 4 am (no doubt you'll be a night-owl). You showed off your prominent lungs right away, and then "chilled" and just took everything in. (No doubt you're a confident guy, knowing when to "speak up", and when to sit back and enjoy the view.)

You were visited in the first day of life by Gramm-E, Grampap, your brothers, and both of your aunts and uncles, who surrounded you with love. Family is very important.

Upon entering the post-partum room, Big Brother asked "Mom-E, do you feel better? Are you not tired anymore?" (He'd heard a few times in the past few weeks that having a Bab-E in her belly made Mom-E tired.)

Your brothers were drawn to you with instinctual magnetism (either that or they were very thankful for the Transformers you "bought" them, but I think you guys were just plotting future mischief together).

Little Brother has hardly stopped kissing you (Coneheads style, he presses his forehead against you) and saying "I love Bab-E.") We bought him a baby boy doll (we though it'd help with jealousy issues if he could change his baby's diapers while we were changing you), but he just carries it around in the Spider-Man gift bag that it came in.

Big Brother has been very sweet and affectionate towards you as well. He made it known to everyone that you "only drink milk because you're little."

You're a very cuddly guy. Your first night home from the hospital was awful you would only sleep if we held or rocked you. Fortunately, by night #2 you'd figured out how to sleep between feedings.

In the style of Monica Geller from Friends, you're "freakishly strong" despite your size. We've been impressed with your ability to lift your head a little bit (no doubt to beginning learning mischevious tricks from your brothers).

Both Mom-E and I (though moreso Mom-E) keep calling you Little Brother instead of Bab-E. More commentary on this phenomenon to follow on Monday.

Your Mom-E and I just wanted you to know that we are and will always be proud of you.

We will support you in every (legal and moral) endeavor, and will do all in our power to help you achieve your dreams (so long as they're legal and moral). We want nothing short of the best for you.

No doubt you'll make some lucky girl very happy one day, and you'll be a good Dad-E, too.

You can accomplish anything you put your mind to.

The roller coaster of life will undoubtedly have its ups and downs, but if you always do your best, are honest, and have faith, things will settle out as they should. We will always be there to support you.

We love you, little buddy,
Busy-Dad-E

P.S. Have a good weekend, everyone!

Trifecta!

Tantalizingly close to a tax deduction, yet too late to be first baby of 2010 in our area, Mom-E, Brothers Little & Big, and I proudly announce the arrival of Bab-E Brother.


The rest of the story to follow on Fatherhood Friday, except to say that Mom-E and Bab-E Brother are both healthy and well.

See you then,
Busy-Dad-E
Director, "My 3 Sons"

Nighty Night Fights

I hope everyone's New Year got off to a good start.

I recently chronicled our efforts to transition Little Brother to a toddler bed.

This transition was made largely out of necessity, as Bab-E Brother will usurp Little Brother from his crib. (Not to mention that Little Brother was starting to demonstrate the capacity to climb out of his crib.) Besides, Big Brother was about the same age when we made this transition.

We hoped that the combination of having a new roomie that he really looks up to, a new "big boy" bed, and new Thomas the Train sheets would make for a smoother transition.

We thought wrong.

Apparently, we forgot just how hard it was when Big Brother made this transition. At that time, we had a gate for him to knock over repeatedly to keep him in his room. In fact, it took quite a while before we had a smooth goodnight routine.

We've had similar horrors with Little Brother, who gets better naps in the minivan than he does in his bed.

Whether it's a fear of monsters or he's just not ready, we've had good practice at sleep-deprivation trying to get Little Brother to actually sleep in his bed.

We tried rocking him, dancing with him, staying in his room, just leaving his room, it pretty much didn't matter.

You can rock him for an hour until he's sound asleep. The moment his body touches the bed, he wakes up and screams.

You can sit in the room with him, and the moment you move 1 milimeter towards the door, he's sitting up giving you the mal ojo.

Apparently, his body is equipped with some touch-sensitive GPS sensors.

In the rare event that you get him to sleep in the bed, he's beeng waking up at 2 am, and it's just about as hard to get him to go BACK to sleep as it is to fall asleep. Then, he'll wake up again at 5:30 am and decide he's up for the day.

***
So this weekend we opted for nighty nite via tough love: after bedtime stories and a little rocking, we put him in bed, said goodnight, and left. We proceeded to shut the door (and lock it from the outside).

Fortunately, Big Brother can sleep through a thermonuclear warhead going off, and so on NIGHT #1 the HUGE HOUR-LONG SCREAMING FIT that ensued didn't faze him a bit (nor was he able to assist with opening the door).

And of course, when I went in to go check on the boys, Little Brother had positioned himself as a doorstop, asleep on the floor.

Fortunately, I didn't wake him up when I wedged myself through the door, scooped him up, and put him in bed.

On NIGHT #2 the screaming fit lasted only 20-30 minutes, although we did have some pounding on the door with that plastic screwdriver he sleeps with under his pillow.

And amazingly, last NIGHT (#3) he fell asleep on his own in his big boy bed; all I did was linger on the floor beside his bed for a few minutes.

Hopefully this trend will continue, because it pretty much has to. :)

Like I've said ad nauseum, parenthood is not for the feint of heart.

Go to sleep, already.

Have a good week,
Busy-Dad-E

Happy Bloggiversary

Glad you came to the party. There's lot's to celebrate here!

Of course, wishing you a Happy New Year and all the best in 2010!

Happy Fatherhood Friday, too!


Thirdly, Happy 1st Bloggiversary to me! What started out as an online journal of sorts is now a regular part of my life. With over 150 posts, 7500 page loads, 30 followers (plus a few regular non-followers), and a place amongst the "Top 25" bloggers at dad-blogs.com, I've been pleasantly surprised at the direction of this rewarding endeavor.

As always, I've love to hear your comments about the blog, or at least let me know about your favorite posts over the last year.

And lastly, I greatly appreciate you, the readers, and your many comments. I need to be MUCH better about responding to them, which will be a New Year's resolution for 2010.

Have a good weekend,
Busy-Dad-E