AWOL blogger

"Life happens" my dear blog readers.

My inner-self and maybe some readers respond: "Sure, sure, but by you not posting for many moons, Matt, you have, in a sense, failed at keeping up with something you said you'd keep up on."  

OK, yeah, I failed.  But, I'm glad I did and can and will live with it.  I have been spending less time on a computer and more time with other stuff that does not involve a screen of any sort.  Sure, I got an iPhone and played around with that and Instagram (look me up @ scaredforthecat -  to see my totally unique, hipsterish images).  However, more importantly I'll always be a sucker for going out on a beautiful day to spend time with family and friends.  A few reenactments have been thrown in the mix as well.  Also, I'm a slave to my house and yard, which suck time from me like ravenous vampires; vampires made of vines, weeds, leaves, chipping paint, ants and allergies.

As a true update to what being a daddy has been like over this period of blogless-ness, I'll offer the "big news" which is undoubtedly Ben's adventurers in potty training.  Or, as I like to call it: how we keep the makers of Resolve and paper towels in business.  I won't ask for any tips on how to make it easier, he'll get it . . . right?  He simply just doesn't yet know the shame or embarrassment of #1 and/or #2 ending up in his Thomas undies rather than in a ceramic vessel full of water.  

I'll depart for now my few, dear, loyal readers.  There is much more to tell, so perhaps another post later this evening. I already have a topic in mind that has been swimming merrily along side Ben's growing up.            

Planes, trains, and trains, and trains, and . . .

I wish I could figure out the genius behind "Thomas and Friends".  About a year ago, Ben watch one episode and suddenly wanted nothing more than to watch it again.  Now, not a day goes by that he doesn't play with his toy trains.  He knows every one of their names, knows the "Thomas Song".

The premise is ridiculously simple:  Talking trains being "Very useful", while having their own personal traits usually hurting THEN helping the scenarios as they play out.  They interact and talk to other trains and humans.  

Haha!  OK, even simpler version:  it's a bunch of brightly colored trains, that talk and mimic the personalities of little kids!  As with many/most kids' programs, if you try to find reason or put anything near a deep into it, you've already gone too far, walk away, read a book, delve into social media . . . or sit and learn the lyrics to the damn songs.  

As a guy who has his own passions, interests and hobbies, I'm happy to see Ben enjoying one thing in particular.  If nothing else, it has been helping mom, dad and the grandparents out ten fold when it comes to finding a gift, book, stickers etc. that will tickle him the right way.  This weekend, we plan to head to the Railroad Museum of Pennsylvania, which should make his head swirl, inciting toddler drunkenness, which can lead into toddler grumpiness and moodiness when getting ready to leave, as we saw at a model train expo not all that long ago.    

A guessing game I can't help but pay with myself as I watch him send Thomas around the track is "how long will he be into this?" and, moreover, "what's next?!".  It could be anything, but for now time for a beer as he drifts off to sleep on his Thomas pillow.  

not forgotten

Sometimes there are just those other things in life that take priority over others.  Sometimes there are those things that distract you into putting more time into them than into others.  Sometimes . . . ok, you get the idea, I haven't been posting to this blog in a little while.

It is amazing, however, how fast time goes by when you keep busy at work or having fun.

This past weekend, I donned my Civil War era duds and took a trip with a good friend down to Point Lookout State Park, in Maryland to meet up with others history dorks for the weekend.  After I got home on Sunday, I thought on how, in recent history, I hadn't spent this much time with "just the guys" in quite a while.  (We had a few spectators come by who were female, but all the reenactors were male)  

I can't imagine what it would've been like to step into the barracks as an outsider to the event.  The smells and sounds alone were probably like nothing else nature or man could have created in any other setting.  You could argue "Well, that's just called a fraternity house!".  Perhaps, but only after the addition of tobacco and fire smoke, moist wool and beans all set inside a drafty wooden building.  

What I think I gleaned the most from the weekend was the fulfilling sense of camaraderie between fellow males.  All backgrounds of religion, politics, ethnicity, etc. etc. were set aside.  Our common interest in a time period and portraying it accurately (including the willingness to subject our bodies to every aspect of it) acted as the glue.

While every hobby has it's vices to avoid or be moderate around (alcohol and smoking stands out in this), I would truly relish the chance to share this sort of experience with Ben; an old fashion form of bonding and friendship, not contingent on internet speed or text messages, only on who you happen to be standing near or singing with or sharing a flask with.

You might ask, "OK Matt, but what if you took those vices out of the mix?  Can this sort of 'old fashion bonding' still take place?"  In my case, yes, because I already do it without them.  At least once a month I get together with other history dorks to sew.  Yes . . . to SEW!  Talk about the opposite of the description of last weekend!  Again, an activity based on being around each other, working together, sharing information and, many times, laughs.  I want Ben to experience this style of bonding as well.

I'll close with this thought:  Some might argue that taking my son to a sporting event or watching a game with him and some buddies is a better way to bond.  I fail to see how guys getting together, eating wings and other junk food, drinking cheap beer, all the while yelling at a TV screen is a better place for my son to witness camaraderie than my past weekend.  I already have small regrets in having already had him witness the belligerence and drunkenness at baseball games we've been to.

Indeed, any scenario can play out to show our children vices and the black eyes of men and their actions.  That's reality and history.    

Class reunion

And I was doing so well posting consistently over the past two months.  I think I went into a sort of hibernation mentally and physically once I got home from work each day.  This weather is killin me.  

Anyhow, onward.  

I know not all of my readers are my age.  Which I'm reminded of with observations like: "Ha!  You ain't seen nothin yet!", "Just wait, Matt!  Just wait!" and "It's only begun."  All in reference to the fact that, yes we only have one child who is two; therefore I have a grand total of two years of being a dad under my belt.  I'm a newbie, a softy and ignorant mass of daddy-ness.  

That all being said, I'm going to write about high school, which, for me was almost 15 years ago.  I know!  I know!  You've been out 25 years, or 20, or 30 . . . I get it, I'm young.

This past weekend we got together with a friend I graduated high-school with and his family.  His wife went to the same high-school, they were "sweet hearts", so my wife was the odd Ohioan out, but that didn't matter one bit.  It was a nice evening with fellow parents, they have a 2 and a half year old and are expecting.  

The most surreal moment came with the thought that 15 years ago, my friend and I would have been at band practice or at lunch together.  Now here we stood, having beers and watching our sons play together.  Worries weren't about upcoming tests, but about our kids falling and, yep, potty training.    

We had plenty of laughs, parent talk, high-school talk about classmates, it was nostalgic and comfortable.  It was comfortable in the fact that while we may have changed in some ways over the years, we realized the roots of our friendship were still there.  It's something I'm sure most of us fear; running into an old friend and realizing enough has changed in either one or both of you to make it uncomfortable.  So maybe we lucked out or maybe we came full circle.  

And yes, it all "made us feel old".  

Frozen

Well folks, I think I'll go and place the blame for the lack of a new blog post in several days on the weather.  Why not?  I thought I'd crank out several posts as the snow blew, ice formed and temperatures plummeted.  Instead, I hunkered down with my new Roku, the wife and kid and zoned out into a pseudo-hibernation mode.  The cold was not good motivation.  

Look for a new post soon as the weekend is here and more snow is due!

Look to the chimps!

Something that has become an absolute favorite, pretty much daily, occurrence of mine is when Ben says things like, "See Daddy?  See?!  Geese, over there!" and "No, over there!  There."  

I think it's the idea of a two year old giving instructions to his dad who is 30 years his senior that is both cute and something to be proud of.  Pride in the fact that he's absorbed something, thought about it and wants to insure I "get it" too.  He sees something he likes and wants to share the excitement.  That something could be an animal, a song, a train or simply that the snowman decoration out front fell over and needs help - "Daddy, snowman fell over!  Help him!".   Of course, from my last post, going "pee-pee" is also an exciting event to share.     

I'd like to think this sort of thing has firm roots in the manner in which my wife and I have been striving to teach him.  While technology is that ever-present, ever-growing elephant in the room, in the home and wherever we go, there are so many other means for Ben to be exposed to and learn from.  I know I've brought this up before in passing via a previous post (See "Fear itself") but figured I'd bring it up again and expand on it a bit. 

The habits of my wife and I, and our daily routines, already put technology in the equation of raising our little man; watching TV, using computers, cell phones, etc.  It would be hypocritical, a disservice even, to deny these things exist in the world we live in and deny Ben access to them.  I can see, even if my wife and I didn't really talk it over thoroughly, that we both prefer him to learn primarily by doing, interacting, talking, playing, tasting, etc. etc. whenever possible.  The tactile means of understanding the world. It seems logical to me, a very primal, natural approach. 

No, I'm not getting "all hippie" on you!

I'd be willing to bet most people reading this have seen some sort of documentary or even read about chimps and/or gorillas and how they learn, act and communicate.  (Now the title of this post begins to make sense!  Right?)  They don't have technology to turn to to help explain why it would be a bad idea to eat a certain plant or touch a certain insect, they have their surroundings and their instincts.  If they can't learn from them, they'll learn by making a mistake. Though I wonder what they'd Google.  "Most effective way to hurl poo in self defense"; "Why do humans stare at me, chimp", "Single, hairy male, looking for . . .".  OK, I'm done.

 

 

I sincerely believe we can learn a lot from them, other animals and "the good old days"; I'm talking pre-TV at least, but further back has some valuable lessons and skills that can be valuable in raising our children.  Not only can it be a benefit in becoming that "well-rounded" individual, but also capable, functioning members of society.  While we're at it, if we're looking to teach our children this way, leading by example is a powerful booster. 

 

My wife is wonderful at this, taking Ben on walks in the neighborhood, going outside to look at the full moon, looking and listening for birds . . . wow, that all does sound a little hippie.  Well, whatever you may title it, maybe it's what we all need to keep in mind as we walk our children into and through this crazy world.       

 

Number 1

I don't get very good cell reception where my office is at work.  So when I hear the short melody telling me "You got a text (or voicemail)!", it could be an hour or so after it was actually sent.  

The roads got fairly icey Friday morning.  I made it in just before it hit, my wife and Ben left a good bit after me, right in the middle of the freezing rain.  Of course, I had that worry of them making it safely to Daycare and work.  When I heard the ring tone, I wasn't sure what to expect to see or hear.  

It was a voicemail, beginning with a muffled noise then: "Tell Daddy what you did, go ahead".  A distant, tiny voice I couldn't understand.  Then my wife's voice "He went potty Daddy!" Repeated by that tiny voice, "Potty Daddy! Potty!".  

I chuckled to myself in relief, never thinking a phone call about someone going to the bathroom would be comforting and/or exciting, or really anything other than too much information; see: in college, from a drunk friend, at 3am.  

But for Ben (and for Mommy and Daddy), this is a big deal.  Mommy is totally ready to get Ben into "big boy undies!".  Though I'm not so sure Ben nor I are ready for only a think layer of cotton protection.  At any rate, time to celebrate successes.  For Ben this means a few M&Ms.