Does Iron Man Rust?

Time for another parenting observation. More of a question really. How do you teach someone how to stop peeing mid stream? Think about it for a moment. Now describe it to a four year old. The word kegel means very little to them, and reading the original article written by Dr. Arnold Kegel means even less. There has to be a way of describing the action so that they can relate and then figure out how to control those muscles on their own. Why am I asking this question? Good question. Let me describe the circumstances that lead me to try and teach this to my son.

I had brought the kids home from my mother's house and forced them to go play outside, while I prepared dinner. I had completed the prep work, and was just getting into the delicate dance of sauteing all the ingredients to perfection when I heard the pitter patter of my oldest running to the bathroom chanting “I gotta go pee, I gotta go pee!” I responded with my usual, “Way to listen to your body buddy!” Moments later I heard my son calling to me from the bathroom. “Daddy, I'm peeing!!” Of-course he was, that is what you do when you go to the bathroom. I looked up ready to praise him for a job well done, when I saw my sweet boy, pants and Iron Man underoos around his ankles, standing in the middle of the bathroom floor, with a steady stream of wee pooling around his feet. This brought on a moment of decision, do I shout instructions to him while I continue to cook dinner, or do I risk scorching my onions and rush to his aid. It was an easy choice, but there was a brief moment of feeling pulled in two directions at once. I flipped the burner to low, and quickly made my way to the bathroom, swooped him up and set him on the toilet, but by that point he had completely evacuated his bladder so not a drop made it in the bowl. Side note , it is amazing how much pee can be stored inside a little person. I mean they are ¼ our size, yet they hold as much urine as an adult, or at least it seems that way when you are mopping it up. Which by the way I managed to do with very little contact thanks to the new and very absorbent towels my wife recently purchased. They soaked up the piss like Brawny Paper Towels soak up spilt juice. Great purchase babe, thanks! Before I started the clean up of the floor though I had to take care of the wet, and slightly embarrassed boy looking to me to make it all better. I had him take off his wet shorts which meant that he got them down to one ankle and then kicked, slapping the wall, and splattering me ever so gently with his preschool piddle. Into the shower he went. This gave me time to first wash my hands, stir the onions, then scoop up the wet towels and shorts, add them to a load of whites, and make a dash for the washing machine. All the while having him sing a song in the shower so I can hear that he is alright, and peaking my head around the corner at his little sister who was playing with an old paint brush and a bucket of water on the back deck. All of that is easy though compared to what I tried to do next.

As I dried my son off I began to try and describe how to stop peeing once one started. Now I will tell you how I described it to him in a moment, but I expect, even plead to have some comments and suggestions from my loyal readers on how to describe this action to a little boy. I have since done some research, and of all the websites I consulted the one called “How to Identify the PC Muscle” has the most helpful description. Step 2 says to “Stop the urine midstream, without moving or squeezing your legs.” Helpful if you already have some voluntary control over that muscle, but that would not really reach my four year old. The other web sites I found seemed to talk about two things. The most common was bed wetting. This is not a problem in our home, and so not helpful. The other websites seemed to focus on how regular PC Muscle exercise can increase male performance. I honestly hope I never have to have that conversation with anyone, let alone my first born. “Son, you know you can increase your performance in the bedroom if you do your kegels. I do mine on the commute to work each day. At every stop light I flex and relax my PC Muscle repeatedly until the light turns green. Your mother seems to be grateful.” No I have found nothing on the world wide web that can help me teach my boy to pinch off the stream until he makes it to the toilet.

Here is what I said to him, and again I welcome any advice. “Buddy when you start to pee before you get to the toilet you have to try and stop the pee from coming out. I want you to practice something for me. Try sucking your pee-pee back into your body." (Pee-pee in this context means means penis for those of you who don't have kids.) "Yeah try squeezing, and sucking your pee-pee back up into your tummy.”

You can see why I need your help. So right now if everyone reading this could please flex your kegel and then post a comment I would really appreciate it.

Giving it the Ol' College Try

This week marked my 13^th wedding anniversary, and my gift to my beautiful wife is a new patio table. Times are a bit tight for us, so buying one is just not possible, well let me rephrase, buying something that is better than the beat up old patio table and chairs that we already have would be implausible. So I have gathered together as much free lumber as I could find, and settled into the garage for the week to build an eight foot banquet table with detached bench seating. Below is a picture of the four foot table I am using for my design inspiration.

Why am I telling you about this? Good question. When you are alone in the shop, wearing goggles, face mask, and earplugs you have a lot of time for introspective thought. In fact sanding is almost like the old sensory deprivation tanks that remove everything but your thoughts, very therapeutic. I have been thinking about how my life has changed for the better since I left my job one year ago with the intention of earning an engineering degree with a focus on renewable energy.

Before that life altering decision I would never have been confident enough to take on a project like a patio table. I would have dreamed about it though, I may have even bought some supplies with the intention of building it, but I would never have done it. I would always have put it off, weekend after weekend I would have had an excuse as to why I couldn't start it. Then it would be fall and what point is there in building a patio table that I couldn’t use until the next year, and in one fell swoop I would have put it off until the following spring. The cycle would have gone on like this indefinitely, and in fact I have been talking about building a table for the back yard for about 3 years now. The problem was not in my “know how.” Though I am not an experienced carpenter, my father is, and I could have asked him how to build the table. The problem was that I had no confidence in myself. I was certain that it would turn out horrible, not only would it be wobbly, but it would probably collapse as soon as the first paper plate grazed its surface.

College has all but eliminated that nagging self doubt. Its not that I am taking classes that have taught me anything new about wood working, or even design. This fall will be my first actual engineering class. No my knowledge has not increased when it comes to DIY projects. The only thing that has changed is my outlook on life, and an improved self image. I have finally realized that I am worthy of a chance. I am worthy of an education. I am actually a fairly smart guy who has something to offer this world other than customer service with a smile. Even if I create a table that is obviously home made, and even if it does have a little wobble to it, that doesn't matter. Ever bite of back yard BBQ will taste better while sitting at that table because it will be a symbol of confidence, of taking a chance to succeed. That and remember it is a wedding anniversary gift, so it will symbolize my love for my wife, be a testament to the amazing thirteen years we have already shared, and will serve as a stable platform to support countless years to come. Yada, yada, yada, blah, blah, blah.  ;-)

Just a little update to this post. I finally finished the table on October 19th. It took me nearly two months but I think it turned out pretty good. Here is a picture of it on my back porch the day I finished it.

What did you just say?

My children constantly amaze me. Consistently I am surprised at what comes out of their mouths. It is a little window into how their brain works, and what is important to them, or what seemingly insignificant statement or action they deem worthy of pondering and talking about. In the last month my twenty month old daughter's vocabulary has exploded, and she has moved from single words to joining 2 or 3 into a sentence. You can see the wheels turning as she discovers that if she combines 1 word with another she can convey her desires. In fact is was the words “Baby Time” that brought this new awareness to my attention. I was changing her diaper, and she had found her old pacifier and was taunting me with it. Next thing I know I hear her say “baby time” and then slap the binky in her mouth. I believe she put at least two different experiences together in her mind to communicate to me that she was going to suck on that binky, and she was going to give that action a name. First, she has been watching her brother play Mario Cart ®. His favorite character is Baby Mario, who when selected says “Oh Yeah Baby time”. So she has heard these words together many times, but in a completely different context, having nothing to do with the binky. Second, she has heard me say, “oh you don't want that binky. That is for babies. You're a big girl.” It seems to me that she is pulling these two different experiences together to create a completely new time of day. Lunch time, nap time, and now baby time. Perhaps I am reading to much into it, but I don't think so. I believe my baby girl is becoming a big girl with complex thoughts that she wants to communicate.

My son also brought to my attention this week that I need to be aware of what I say and how it may be perceived by someone still learning the language. I was visiting with my neighbor while the kids were playing in the yard. My neighbor was sneezing, and this got us on the discussion of allergies. I mentioned that I sneeze every time I look into the sun, so I must be “allergic to the sun”. (This by the way is an actual medical condition that is believed to be passed on genetically called Achoo Syndrome so no laughing.) Anyway, a few minutes later my boy walked up to me and said in a sad, questioning voice. “Daddy, you are allergic to me?” Of course I immediately gave him a big hug, and told him no, and explained I was not allergic to my S-O-N, but to the S-U-N. I showed him by looking directly into the sun, and sneezing my head off. (Well I suppose I should rephrase that. My head did not actually fall off my body. I just sneezed uncontrollably about six times in a row)

The moral of the story is that kids are amazing little individuals with incredibly complex things going on in their disproportionately large heads, and we would be wise to not underestimate them just because they may not be able to communicate their thoughts as well as we supposedly can. They are truly little sponges that soak up everything. We need to be aware of the incredible impact we can have on kids. Intentional or not, what we expose children to, and especially our words have an immense amount of power, and can change the way they view the world. Imagine if my son had not said anything, and spent the rest of his life believing I was allergic to him. As he grew up he would not even think about it, it would just be a subtle and quiet “fact” in his mind that he never really thinks about or questions. The world is round, the sky is blue, and my dad is allergic to me. I know I will be more careful what “facts” I teach my two beautiful, brilliant little humans.

Swim Lessons

This week I have had the joy of taking my four year old to his first swim lessons. This experience has lead to some mixed emotions for me. It is such a treat to watch as he learns to respond to a new authority figure. My boy is a great listener, and follows instruction wonderfully. This fills me with pride, his mother and I must be doing something right to have such a well behaved child. Initially I left the first swim lesson feeling pretty darn good, however as I looked back at the pictures and video that I had taken I realized that something else was happening. Upon completion of each instruction issued by my son's teacher, he turns to her with hopeful eyes eagerly searching for approval. Up until this week I have only seen this look with me, his Mom, and his Grandparents. It has made me realize that my first born is growing up. Soon he will be going to real school, and be gone for most of the day. Worse yet, his little sister will do the same thing in just a few years. What will I do without them? How can I protect them from the world, when they are out in it?

I know that it may be a little premature for me to start worrying about what my life will be like when my kids start school, graduate, and eventually begin a life without their mother and I, but there is a valid lesson to be learned here. When it comes to raising my kids I can only do my best. Their life is their own, and many other people will influence them despite my approval or disapproval. My goal should not be to protect them and make good choices for them, but to teach them to make their own good choices, thus protecting themselves. I need to become a quite and loving voice in their head that helps them swim through the waters of life. 

What was the best day of the week when you were in school?

Mine was Friday. It was not just the last day of the school week, but more of a symbol of freedom and fun. Friday for me was better than Saturday or Sunday because it was the day I was most likely to break out of the norm. The day that my standard routine was broken, and excitement was bound to be waiting around the corner. Friday was the day I was most likely to get on my BFF's bus and go to his house to stay the night. I would of-course be treated to strange and exotic foods. What made tacos exotic had nothing to do with the spices. No it was the simple fact that my mother had not prepared them. Friday was also the day that your teacher was most likely to play heads up seven up, read "My Side of the Mountain", or just let you visit without making you learn stuff. These things always made up for that darn spelling test that always came on Friday and that I never seamed to do very well on. (Do kids these days even have spelling tests? Or do that have Spell Check tests? The child that can write a document with the least amount of spell check red lines gets an A.)
Yes Friday was the best day of the week. Friday was the day that the lunch lady would hand out pizza and chocolate milk, the finest two foods ever created by man, or at least that was my opinion when I was eight years old. I'm sure as an adult it must have been enjoyable to see the joy on every child's face as they gobbled down floppy cheese pizza. To listen to the sound of one hundred tiny hands shaking one hundred tiny milk cartons so as to make the contents a perfect blend of chocolaty frothy goodness. Yes I imagine Friday was the best day of the week for the teachers too.
I miss those days of anticipation and delight. Perhaps I should start playing the lottery and drinking an iced mocha on Fridays. I doubt I will win, and I know I don't need the extra calories, but maybe, just maybe I can recapture that feeling I had when I was eight.