Introducing the Next Hal Blaine

Waaaaay back when The Boy was born (it seems like so long ago), I told P that I wanted to get the baby one of those cute mini-drum sets you see at music stores. I've got to admit, despite my recent guitar playing adventures, deep down I'd really love to see him play the drums.

"Are you crazy?!? There's no way he's getting his hands on drumsticks until his at least two years old. He'd poke his eyes out!"

This afternoon while P was taking a shower, I thought I'd set-up my snare and cymbal for The Boy before they get packed away, just to see what he'd do. He... loved... them! He grabbed the sticks and starting beating the skins like an old pro. What technique! I almost got all teary watching him. And look honey, his eyes are fine.

Billy Ocean Must Die

We're up to our eyeballs in boxes at the moment, moving into a larger place so we can accommodate The Boy and his expanding world of stuff. It a nice neighbourhood we're moving to, great family area. But unlike the neighbourhood we live in -- chock-o-block full of cafes, shops and restaurants -- it's pretty much void of any urban experiences. The closest coffee shop is a (ugh) Starbucks about a mile down the road and there are a couple of fast-food joints. I can't wait to eat at Sushi-GO!

This morning I spent time on the phone moving our utilities to the new address. I'd been avoiding it, mostly because I hate spending half my time on hold, but like death and taxes it's inevitable. The hold time was actually reasonable today, but the music they play while you wait - oh my freaking gawd! Why do they all choose to play "Soft Rock Favourites'? Favourite of who? I refuse to believe there are any people who aren't mentally challenged a Simpleton that like this genre. I've heard that companies choose soft rock because anything 'harder' might piss a few people off. So instead you'll play Billy Ocean and piss everyone off? Good plan. How about some cool jazz or blues instead.

The gas company was the only company that provided some sort of relief by breaking up the music with service reminders. "If you smell gas, or this is a gas emergency call 1-800-663-9911." I think they're missing the most critical piece of instruction - Run! Run for your life! I could just imagine... "Okay sure, I'll just dial this 1-800 numb... **BLAMMO**!"

So the family is on the move. Not that I've been posting that regularly as of late, but I might go silent for the next week as the computers get packed away. Next post, we'll be in our new digs.

Video Fixed

Okay, so I've had some sort of server meltdown, or the tape got stuck in the VCR, or whatever, but I've finally got the video loaded (on a new server) and working.

If you still would like to watch The Boy play catch, this is the new link.

Thanks for all the emails letting me know it didn't work.

And if any of you would like a place to host your little slices of cinema, I recommend Blip.tv. Free video hosting and blogging service, very cool indeed.

A Spitball in Every Sense

I mentioned a few posts ago that The Boy is playing catch with me, and clapping his hands. Here's undisputed video evidence that he can actually do those things. Right up there with Big Foot and the Loch Ness Monster.

"Watch as The Boy plays catch with his Dad."
"Watch as he licks the ball before tossing it back."

Really I'm not one of those parents that pulls out the wallet-sized photos of their kid at every opportunity (I say while writing my 131st entry). So why post this video of The Boy then? Why would anyone besides immediate family care to watch this? Because I think it's fucking adorable that's why. Do I need a better reason? It's also one of the few times he hasn't frozen up like a deer in the headlights whenever I point the camera at him. I've got hours of video of The Boy, mostly of him staring blankly towards the camera.

If you'd like to watch 2:30 minutes of pure, unadulterated cuteness, follow this link.

***Link has been fixed*** Thanks LHM for pointing that out. And thank everyone for even trying to watch The Boy's little opus.

You'll need Quick Time on your computer to watch. If you don't have Quicktime, you can download it for free.

Ewwwww... Icky

I've always had a problem handling certain textures, in particular our cats' vomit and their magical litter box treasures. Everytime I had to deal with it I'd supress a gag.

Back when The Boy was just a fleeting afterthought ensnared in P's IUD, she used to chide me about it. "You know, if we ever have a baby you're going to be changing diapers. So you better get used to handling goopy [sic] stuff."

But suprisingly I'm fine with diapers, and spit-up, and vomit, and anything else The Boy manages to excrete from his body. I didn't build up my immunity, discovered my courage or anything like that. He's my son, and from the moment he was born I had no issues with cleaning him up. Afterall blood is thicker than water, or poo.

So after handling all the things he's served up to date, you'd think I could handle anything. Today I was cleaning up after a especially messy bagel snack. Wouldn't you know it, soppy, soggy, slimey bagel makes me gag.

Bring on the diapers, at least that I can deal with.

Remedial Math for You

I've mentioned that The Boy has no interested in going mobile. I think he'll go straight to walking, P hopes not. Apparently kids that don't crawl never fully develop the right side of their brain. I guess if my theory holds true, it's the 'Leg Up' program for The Boy.

Nine Month Review

Today is The Boy's nine month birthday, so I figured I should come out from under my rock and get posting again. Why has it been so tough for me to blog lately? Let' me count the ways.

1) Work
My plate has been loaded full at work recently. I'm talking "Spilling over onto the tray and touching the dessert" full. I used to be able to rip a post off over lunch, but lately I'm stuffing my cake-hole at my desk between answering emails or reading documents. I like the work I do, and I like being busy, but it seriously cuts into Bloggin' time.

2) Attention-hungry, ego-centric baby in our home
Work is only part of it, obviously. The Boy eats up a lot of my time. He wants attention and we're happy to give it. I find hanging out with him a great way to unwind, but it leaves little free time between rounds of "Me! Me! It's all about me!". Most nights lately I don't even crack open my Powerbook to check email, let alone blog.

3) Exhaustion
So all this leaves me tired (cry me a river dude; welcome to parenthood). After The Boy is put to bed, dinner is finished and the kitchen cleaned I can spend my 10 minutes of free time writing, or tuning out on the couch. Lately I've opted for the latter.

4) Muse
I lost if for a while. I just couldn't seem to come up with anything I wanted to write about. I think it has to do with the fact that The Boy's been in cruise control the last couple months. He's not crawling, so he hasn't embarked on any amazing adventures into the compost tub, cat box or lard barrel. P says he's so predictable lately you could even set your clock to his bowel movements - our son, the shit powered clock.

So each day is like previous one, he sits, plays, eats, sleeps and craps. Not a lot of subject matter in there. Not to say there haven't been a lot of cool developments, there's been tons.

My two favourites developments have got to be hand clapping and playing catch; the first two (and possibly the last two) things that I've actually managed to teach him. Weeks of holding his hands and clapping them together have paid off. Now he can't get enough of it. P or I start clapping and he joins in, it's also his new 'happy' gesture. Playing catch is just as fun. The Boy will pick up his big rubber ball and throw it at me, and I throw it back. He loves this game. Now if I can only get him to put his weight behind it, he's have a wicked Fast-ball.

He's a couple ounces over 20 pounds now and still not crawling. The Boy's content to stay in Larva stage for a while longer it seems. He'll reach for toys, but if they're too far away he doesn't get frustrated and trying to move towards it, he'll just go from something closer, or look up at me with some sort of, "Hey buddy, want to bring that here" look. Personally I think he'll never crawl and go straight to walking, P doesn't think so.

Insanely Busy

Too busy to do anything except work, eat, play with The Boy, sleep and repeat. No time to blog, which makes me sad. Next week is looking better, will post something then. Lots of fun happenings with The Boy.