Ok, so I’m moving back to Typepad.

WordPress won’t let me run any ads. That’s right, no ads. I don’t need to get rich, but I would like to pay for my hosting and internet fees with the site itself. WordPress (at least this free version) won’t let me do that. Poo.

SO…http://daddydaze.net will now redirect to the Typepad site. If you’re using that url, http://daddydaze.net, you’ve got nothing to worry about. Ok? Cool.

Colleen Pavelka of Chicago, Il. had labor induced this past Sunday so that her husband, Mark, could attend the Chicago Bear’s championship game against the Saints. Said Colleen:

“I thought, how could [Mark] miss this one opportunity that he might never have again in his life…When the doctor said I could be induced so he could go to the game, that’s the train I got on.”

You give that woman a kiss, Mark. She’s a keeper.

[Found at Blogging Baby]

My boy is about to turn two, so I thought this an appropriate time to sit him down for some fatherly advice, man-to-man. We talked about beer, music, and women:

“…please understand that Van Halen is, and always will be, the greatest rock ‘n’ roll band in the world. Just look past all the bickering between the brothers, the revolving-door policy regarding lead singers and the dreadful 2004 tour. I want you to get into your (practical, mid-price-range hybrid) car, roll the windows down and play Women and Children First all the way through, really, really loud…”

You can read the rest here.

Here’s an idea. Wait until the game-winning, last minute drive to throw an interception. Jerk.

While I was watching the Ellen Degeneres Show this morning,* I saw a segment with the woman who created Aqua2Go. It’s something so simple and so wonderful that I can’t wait to place my first order.

The inventor is a mother of a three year old, who was fed up with giving her daughter juice box after juice box. After all, those things contain a lot of sugar. One day she offerehed her girl some water which, of course, she refused to drink. “If we could only get water in a juice box,” she mused with her husband, “I bet she’d drink it.”

Hence, Aqua2Go was born. It’s a “juice” box that contains water. I love it.

*Yes, I watch Ellen. Wanna fight about it?

Hop on over to Noodad to request your free stickers! I just ordered mine. Once you’ve got yours, why not slap one on the changing table at Wendy’s?

The other night, Grace called my wife into her bedroom. She said that there was a “…scary dinosaur” outside of her window. She was soothed easily enough, and went to back to sleep readily.

This had me thinking about the inevitable emergence of “scary monsters” in a child’s imagination. Must it be inevitable? I’m interested in trying to curtail the whole thing.

If I think about it, I realize that Grace has “known” many monsters for years now. Elmo, Grover, Telley Monster, Zöe, Cookie Monster, Oscar and so on are all monsters, and characters she loves. She hasn’t complained about scary monsters yet, but if she does, I wonder if I’ll be able to get away with that comparison.

Dadventure is working on the problem as well, and he lists some of the tactics he’s been using. A couple of the more amusing items on his list include: “That’s why we painted your bedroom pink. Monsters hate pink” and “Monsters don’t want to eat us. We taste awful.”

Pretty cute and clever, but there’s still a tacit implicaiton that, yes, scary monsters do exist. I don’t know about you, but when I read the 2nd explanation, I immediately generate an image in my mind of a monster actually consuming me. I know that wasn’t the message, but the image is unavoidable. It’s like saying, “Don’t think of a giraffe.”

It’s not my intention to criticize Mr. Dadventure. I’m just hoping (naievly, perhaps) that I can nip this whole thing in the bud by convincing her that monsters don’t exist outside of Sesame Stret. Wish me luck.

My wife and I work largely opposite schedules. I’m typically home during the day, while she holds down the fort at night. On Saturdays we’re home together, and we sometimes find that, in each other’s absense, our parenting styles have drifted apart. I don’t mean drastically, just a bit.

For example. This past Saturday, we were all home. The kids were in the playroom, threatening each other’s lives over some toy. My wife was closest to the room, and I flashed her my “here we go again” look. Strangely enough, she didn’t go into the room. “You, ah, going to step in there, hon?” I asked. “Nope,” she said. “But they’re going to kill each other,” I said. “I let them work it out,” she said. “And no, I won’t let them actually kill each other.”

It irked me to let them argue and struggle, and I eventually succumbed and broke them up. “They aren’t going to learn if you don’t give them the opportunity to deal with each other effectively,” she said. “Someone was going to get hurt,” I said. “William doesn’t understand her and she can’t understand that…the whole thing would have escalated into violence.”

She disagreed.  So, what’s the right call? What do you do? Intevene, or let them work it out?

Imagine a world in which people were nice to each other, on their own volition. Imagine strangers greeting each other warmly, and engaging in friendly small talk, just for the fun of it.

I can happen. I’ve seen it. How? Two words: Baby Bjorn.

Esquire Magazine has produced a great list of 71 things Every Man Should Know About Fatherhood. It’s exhaustive and funny. Highlights follow.

[Found at Blogging Baby]

• #4 "Never tell anyone that you and your wife are ‘trying.’ We don’t need the visual." I totally agree.
• #16 "Reason boys are better: They cannot get pregnant."
• #17 "Reason girls are better: They’re less likely to get arrested." Tell that to Lionel Richie
• #34 "At a certain point, your child will appear to survive
  exclusively on peanut butter, french fries, Cheerios, and hot dogs." I
  recently had this conversation with one of the moms at ballet. I joked
  that pasta and blueberries were keeping my Gracie alive (it could be
  worse, I guess), and she launched into a tale of their nightly mealtime
  battles. I admitted that I once succumbed to that pointless
  back-and-forth until I realized: 1.) No child has ever starved itself
  to death, 2.) Her body tells her how much food she needs to eat. I’d rather she respond to that than external pressures to stuff her gullet  3.) Her
  stomach is about the size of a tennis ball. So relax. If she wants to
  eat mac n cheese, give her mac n cheese. I call this moment in
  parenting, "How I learned to stop worrying and love the Kraft."
• #46 "There is only one reason for a teenager to
  burn incense, and we think you remember what it is." Let me add: If he
  suddenly requests a fan for his bedroom window, you need to have a look
  around.
• #47: "Unfortunately, those books that say
  motherhood makes women desire more sex are referring to women who are
  not your wife." Amen, brother. Amen.
• #71: "If you’re thinking that fatherhood means the end of life as you’ve known it, you, sir, are, of course, absolutely correct."

Just great. Let me add: When jr. is standing in front of the fireplace,
as still as a statue, and emitting little "umh" sounds (as mine is
doing this very second), he’s making a little present for you.

Got to go.