Wednesday 30 April 2008

FAMILY

I ran into a stranger as he passed by,
'Oh excuse me please' was my reply.

He said, 'Please excuse me too;
I wasn't watching for you.'

We were very polite, this stranger and I.
We went on our way and we said goodbye.

But at home a different story is told,
How we treat our loved ones, young and old.

Later that day, cooking the evening meal,
My son stood beside me very still.

When I turned, I nearly knocked him down.
'Move out of the way,' I said with a frown.

He walked away, his little heart broken.
I didn't realize how harshly I'd spoken..

While I lay awake in bed,
God's still small voice came to me and said,

'While dealing with a stranger,
common courtesy you use,
but the family you love, you seem to abuse.

Go and look on the kitchen floor,
... read more >>

crabbydad - Computer: Set Blog to Auto-Post...

 

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Computer: Set Blog to Auto-Post...

The Old Lady's out at some fancy perfess'r-party tonight, so it has been just me and the spawnage all afternoon/eve'n. Hence, I barely have a fucking will-to-live, let alone an ounce of will-to-blog. So, instead, I'm just gonna post some doodles of Mr. Z's that I found tucked in his math book.



I was a little concerned about the fact that he really dislikes math so much, even though he's really good at it. But after seeing these drawings, I couldn't give two shits if he never listens in a math class again. He's basically got a ready-to-program video game idea right there that'd make him (us) millions. I'm calling Nintendo first thing in the morning. Look for it this Xmas: Big Huge Brawl for the Wii!

Crabbydad could be retiring early!


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Monday 28 April 2008

Travelling with your baby

We recently travelled to Cairns, Australia where my mother lives, its hot and the humidity is a killer! The thought of not only having our little girl in the heat, was a little off putting but also the first hurdle was more of a worry – Travelling with a 6 month old overseas!

We obtained a passport for her last year, now have you ever had to hold a 3 month old baby still for the camera and making sure that she doesn't have any facial expression on her face at all – this is crazy, the lady behind the counter ended up photo shopping the photo to make it look normal and also something that would be excepted by the officials.

Now one good thing about travelling with her is that we can still take a 20kg luggage allowance for her and any excess of our's will go in her, now don't make the same mistake of thinking that she might be allowed an alcohol allowance – she isn't. ... read more >>

Tuesday 22 April 2008

Daycare centres

Pyper has been going to day care twice a week on a part time basis for just on 3 weeks now, and although this is great, I wonder sometimes how they treat her?

It's not as if they can tell you at the end of the day "Daddy that lady was mean to me ..." so I guess you have to just trust your judgement and hope that they really are being nice, and everything is being taken care of!! So I found myself thinking "hmm I'm not sure this place is for her, maybe she should just stay at home with me? Does she get anything out of it? Do I get anything out of it?"

Then it struck me that the one thing that I was resisting was the one thing that I wanted for her – being able to interact with other children. I felt a little selfish. Like, why would I pay all that money to then not trust the process. ... read more >>

Thursday 10 April 2008

crabbydad - Putting the "Ow!" in Workout...

 

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Putting the "Ow!" in Workout...

Sorry I missed a day -- work has been wacky and I've just started a freelance gig with a ridiculously hasty deadline, so excuse me if I don't have an extra few minutes to tap out my latest fascinating musings about woodpeckers and poop.

Speaking of which, can the YMCA purchase toilet paper that could possibly tear out my delicate anus flesh any more than it already does? And the answer is "no." My day, and perhaps then next few weeks, was ruined by the tree bark they're try to pass off as fucking "bathroom tissue." Holy shitstain, I don't think I'll be able to sit down for at least 96 hours. I'm not sure, but this afternoon, I'm pretty sure I heard my road-rashed a-hole crying.

And is shitty toilet paper really that much cheaper than "okay" toilet paper? I mean, I'm not asking for 400 threadcount Egyptian cotton here -- I'd just like something that doesn't have burrs on it. Something that doesn't unintentionally give me a Brazilian while I'm taking care of my business. Something that comes in packaging that refers to its "ply" instead of its "grit."

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go change my gauze after I throw away my underwear.


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Sunday 6 April 2008

Where the Wild Books Are

What does every kid love?

Because I am the TA's dad (and she is my TA), I want to say that she loves books.

And the TA would no doubt agree she adores books. Lots of 'em. And preferably scattered everywhere. Books at bedtime. Waterproof books in the tub. Coloring books in the diaper bag. Board books underfoot in the kitchen.

But who is kidding whom?

The truth is that TA's one true love is not books, but stairs. Lots of stairs. Stairs to go up. Stairs to come down. Stairs to run toward with open arms. Stairs to stare at lovingly before ascending and descending infinitum.

But because I'm the Dad, we started our day not in pursuit of stairs, but in pursuit of books. And when it comes to books, Barefoot Books, in Cambridge MA, is probably the coolest bookstore on the planet. Titles like Alligator Alphabet, Counting Cockatoos, Zoe and Her Zebra, and, of course, Bear's Busy Family are staples of the TA's expanding library. Although maybe exploding library would best explain the scene in her room. Let's just say the Dewey decimal system is nonstarter.

Barefoot Books is street level (i.e., no stairs), but she was thrilled all the same.

The TA runs wild through the offerings of Barefoot Books.
For whatever reason, she kept grabbing titles in Spanish
and asking me to read them to her.
What did I do?
El punto en cuadros y arregla cosas!
(Point at pictures and make things up!)

In the end, we bought Yoga Pretzels for the TA to share with Mama, and some African Wildlife Finger Puppets for her to pass the time en route to our next stop.

The venerable Grolier Poetry Book Shop in Harvard Square is renowned both for being the oldest bookstore in America devoted exclusively to poetry and for its epic struggles to remain open. The public may be indifferent to poetry, but Grolier is a hidden jewel.

Spacious as a phone booth, but boundless in her offerings, Grolier is worth the trip from anywhere on the planet. We discovered a copy of Rodney Jones' "The Kingdom of the Instant" and were on our way. Later, I read some poems to the TA, while she provided interpretation with assistance from Ms. Giraffe and Mr. Lion.






The next stop was Harvard Yard. It's a short walk across the street, and it gave me an excuse to cut the TA loose for a romp.


Legend has it the Widener Library contains 53 miles of books.
This might make Dad's book-loving heart go pitter-pat,
but the TA had other plans.

With an immediate about face, the TA bolts for the Memorial Church

There are few books in a church (actually, just one).
But for the TA, it was all about the stairs.
Twenty-five minutes of her go up and down unmercifully hard granite steps wore me out.
I tossed her in the backpack, and we wandered towards the Barker Center.

Helen Vendler's office.
It's not every day you can introduce your toddler to a living legend.
Organic chemist. Mathematician. Keats scholar.
The first woman offered an instructorship at Harvard.
Introducing the TA to as many accomplished independent
women as possible can only help.
Unfortunately, she wasn't home.
I wasn't sure what we were going to do if she was home.
Maybe just wave and ask her to sign the TA's
backpack copy of "The Runaway Bunny."

The next stop was Curious George Goes to Wordsworth.
The monkey, of course, needs little introduction.


Of course, the TA simply ignored the books
and insisted instead on walking up and down the stairs
for the next 20 minutes.
(All the while, liberating random monkeys from their pails.)


All in all, it was good trip, but I've been mulling over some possibilities for our next jaunt into the world.



Like maybe a lighthouse . . .


or maybe something further east . . .

or maybe we'll just stay home with a video, while
the TA breaks in her newest toy . . . .


*


Source: http://studiorumprolatorum.blogspot.com/2008/03/books-and-ladders.html
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Friday 4 April 2008

crabbydad - Birth of the Anti-Crab...

 

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Birth of the Anti-Crab...

I don't know how I'm feeling about this new, above-ground crabbydad. I don't know if it's the higher concentration of radon-free oxygen, or the constant bombardment of the UV sun rays, but he's kinda douching my crabbybuzz. Por ejemplo, yesterday, after picking up the spawnage from school, I rallied said spawnage (whose natural instinct is to scurry inside and stay there... as is mine) to go on a fucking bike ride around the neighborhood.

Who am I... Ozzie McHarriet?!

Oh, and they actually enjoyed the ride, by the by. For like a half an hour! They fucking loved it -- didn't argue, didn't complain about their legs hurting, didn't plow into the back of any parked cars. (Well, Mr. Z did get his wheel stuck in a sewer grate, momentarily, but he didn't even rack himself.)

And then yesterday morning, on my way out of the Y, I picked up this little ticket for the circus that's coming to town.



Now, I've picked up the exact ticket for the past three years, always thinking, "Hey, maybe I should take the spawnage to the circus. They'd probably dig it." Then I'd stick the thing in my pocket and forget about it. You know -- the time-tested, crabbydad way.

This time, though, the new above-terranean (is that that opposite of subterranean?) crabbydad got online tonight and ordered four row-three tickets to the goddamn circus! Can I get a "what the shit?!" Row three! The fucking clowns are going to be all over us like... like stink on clowns. We'll be close enough to feel the warm mist of elephant whiz raining down upon us, and when one of the motorcycles goes spinning out of control and bursts through the walls of the metal death-sphere, we'll be the ones ripped to shreds, as the steel-spiked tires tear through our sallow-usually-inside-people skin.

And it's all because of this dick: Go-Get-'Em-Dad.

The dude's gotta be stopped. If I don't keep his gumption in check, he's gonna do something really fucked, like volunteering to run the school rummage sale or, even worse, signing the spawnage up for after-school soccer practice. I think I'll go sleep in the basement tonight and force him back down into the dessicated, lifeless husk of my crabbycore where he belongs.


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