tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-320951432024-03-13T23:00:03.088-05:00Newdaddy!buddaddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14095556344790625571noreply@blogger.comBlogger245125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32095143.post-45592188215474479812010-09-07T19:27:00.002-05:002010-09-07T19:37:04.202-05:00Newdaddy Times Two!!I am proud to announce that there will soon be a new member of the Newdaddy club: me! Yes, folks, Newmommy is pregnant. <div><br /></div><div>It shows how poor of a blogger I've been: due date is five weeks from today. </div><div><br /></div><div>In an effort to balance my too-busy-to-write-long-posts with the enjoyment I had last time around with sharing my adventures, I've decided to start a twitter feed: NewdaddyInNJ. When I've got a lot to say, I'll still use this blog, but for the bits-and-peices, follow twitter. </div><div><br /></div><div>Looking forward to going around this crazy merry-go-round again!!!</div>buddaddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14095556344790625571noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32095143.post-68016016693237225522010-04-18T08:54:00.003-05:002010-04-18T09:04:28.110-05:00Q: What would Quagmire's kids wear?<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>A:<img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 180px;" src="http://www.childsplaysussex.co.uk/images/thumbnail/kiddopotamus_bibbity_green_a.jpg" border="0" alt="" /><br /><div><br /><div><div style="text-align: center;"></div></div><div><div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div><br /></div></div>buddaddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14095556344790625571noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32095143.post-61552234301338710902010-03-20T09:12:00.005-05:002010-03-21T09:39:06.018-05:00An Open Letter to Bad Parents<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://southparkstudios.mtvnimages.com/media/images/714/714_image_19.jpg?width=100"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 100px; height: 64px;" src="http://southparkstudios.mtvnimages.com/media/images/714/714_image_19.jpg?width=100" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />Dear Parents-With-the-Six-Year-Old-the-Three-Year-Old-and-the-Baby-Who-Brought-The-Whole-Family-To-Hooters-Thursday-Night-at-11-p.m.,<div><br /></div><div>Seriously?!?!?!?!</div><div><br /></div><div>Taking a cue from the great Michael Scott, I (a grown adult) joined three other grown adults Thursday night at Hooters to watch round one of the NCAA tournament. (By the way, I went 22-10 in the first round, with 15 of my sweet sixteen still alive). I am not necessarily proud of my selection of venue and, I must say, being the father of a little girl, I felt mildly sleazy. However, one can't argue with their wings and the cost of pitchers. </div><div><br /></div><div>But then, in you came, at 11pm, with a six-year-old, a three-year-old and a baby. I ask again...seriously?!?!?!?!? It's like a kid getting arrested for DUI, there are SO MANY things wrong with that. First, it's 11pm. Your kids should be in bed. They should have already eaten. Your three-year-old looked like he was about to pass out. Even with the giant rack in his face. (I do realize that a giant rack in a baby's face is quite typical, but this isn't exactly how it works.) Also, it's Hooters. Despite the fact that <a href="http://newdaddy.blogspot.com/2007/01/taking-breastfeeding-to-whole-new-level.html">they have promotions aimed a kids</a> for some reason, and a <a href="http://www.hootersaz.com/documents/kidsMenu01-08.pdf">kid's menu</a> (which I had to take home with me for the comedic value), it's not exactly a kid's restaurant. It's even less so at 11pm. I'm not going to get into issues of nutrition. </div><div><br /></div><div>I'm going to go out on a limb here and say: children shouldn't be in bars at 11pm. </div><div><br /></div><div>Sincerely,</div><div><br /></div><div>Newdaddy</div>buddaddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14095556344790625571noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32095143.post-81771993567515036222010-03-14T13:29:00.002-05:002010-03-14T13:35:25.988-05:00Awesome Stuff You Can Get Away With at Age 3<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihqZi42ydQTC6AL4tqYRJ9qCh_B2UOc3rIOLzPr6Fz9GJFBetRSm9TnJjzWdUXUrLXM0W5VR7ylpQTw_L3BEnNOv8nq6CkAeTKdEgpMc-b3X3XbjnXq9qhw3ppmw9NQVfFsd98/s1600-h/downsized_0314001315.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihqZi42ydQTC6AL4tqYRJ9qCh_B2UOc3rIOLzPr6Fz9GJFBetRSm9TnJjzWdUXUrLXM0W5VR7ylpQTw_L3BEnNOv8nq6CkAeTKdEgpMc-b3X3XbjnXq9qhw3ppmw9NQVfFsd98/s320/downsized_0314001315.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448559842997919778" /></a>buddaddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14095556344790625571noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32095143.post-77511332221527205222010-03-13T09:32:00.003-05:002010-03-13T09:37:41.139-05:00Kidcabulary<b>Yesternight </b>(n), last night. "Daddy readed me a book yesternight." [I guess "readed" would also be kidcabulary.] <div><br /></div><div>P.S. As I was writing this, I hear, "Dad, here's your tutu!" Uh oh....</div>buddaddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14095556344790625571noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32095143.post-67659069201080604042010-03-07T10:53:00.006-05:002010-03-07T20:02:41.946-05:00I Don't Get ItAm I getting old? Because I don't understand kid's TV shows these days. <div><br /></div><div>Max & Ruby....where are your parents? Ruby's not all that old, is she really responsible enough to be taking care of Max on a full time basis? That's quite a burden to place on a young rabbit. Also, she doesn't seem all that attentive to her brother...I am watching an episode right now where Ruby's trying to make a clubhouse and Max keeps bothering her. Basically, she keeps trying to get rid of him. Some parenting. And I'm not sure how comfortable I am with this creepy Bunny Scout Leader coming by without parental supervision. </div><div><br /></div><div>Yo <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Gabba</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Gabba</span>. Look, I respect <a href="http://www.google.com/url?q=http://s0.ilike.com/play%23Biz%2BMarkie:Just%2BA%2BFriend:25039:s321606.12566160.14484910.0.2.173%252Cstd_9c91cd29bf5c4c458b52f680500a3223&ei=UM6TS_2pN4iXtge3nfTUCg&sa=X&oi=music_play_track&resnum=1&ct=result&cd=2&ved=0CAcQ0wQoADAA&usg=AFQjCNHBALVIzQh7a5eNPlqxJJF7K91YGg">Biz <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Markie's</span> lyrical abilities</a>, but I think Bud's educational focus at age three should be on something other than <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">beatboxing</span>. (For us adults, however, it's never too late to brush up on the basics:)</div><br /><object width="640" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/q1qZ8rjI3DU&hl=en_US&fs=1&"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/q1qZ8rjI3DU&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="385"></embed></object><br /><br />That being said, there's probably more educational value in a creepy robot teaching kids to wash their hands and not to eat glue than what I watched...a cat and a mouse beat the living shit out of each other.buddaddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14095556344790625571noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32095143.post-90731809009237191782010-03-01T21:29:00.003-05:002010-03-01T21:32:35.157-05:00And Where the Hell Was I?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJr8Mbw1AKgc793iae4AMFRaC2X68YW_ZFWHT6N2oulwQlZzSKzOmvyeFC8QW4GRbKQukI1bX68dpHDU0c6g6A0-pBUd9tQegRMnhENTH9yzG4K3TsSTXpzAEcGf5I2hYJsQf4_g/s1600/Frank+Drebin.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 313px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJr8Mbw1AKgc793iae4AMFRaC2X68YW_ZFWHT6N2oulwQlZzSKzOmvyeFC8QW4GRbKQukI1bX68dpHDU0c6g6A0-pBUd9tQegRMnhENTH9yzG4K3TsSTXpzAEcGf5I2hYJsQf4_g/s1600/Frank+Drebin.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>Where have Newdaddy, Newmommy and Bud been for the past year and a half? Coming soon...buddaddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14095556344790625571noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32095143.post-35785041419441409762008-11-20T20:24:00.004-05:002008-11-20T20:39:18.541-05:00Covering the Basics<a href="http://www.extrememortman.com/wp-content/uploads/2007/07/Schwarzenegger%20Kindergarten%20Cop.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 312px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 188px" alt="" src="http://www.extrememortman.com/wp-content/uploads/2007/07/Schwarzenegger%20Kindergarten%20Cop.jpg" border="0" /></a> <em>"Boys have a penis and girls have a vagina." - </em>Kid from "Kindergarten Cop."<br /><div></div><br /><div>I realize that I am now that guy who you dated for a few months, had some great times with, and then stopped calling you. And now I'm ringing you up for a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">bootie</span> call. Why should you give the time of day to someone who's been MIA for almost three months? Because this is a good story.</div><br /><div>Bud has gotten the whole girl/boy thing down. She turns to me tonight and says "Daddy is a boy and mommy is a girl." Duh! Then, we quizzed her...What's Jacob?...a boy...What's Ali?...a girl...What's Nana...a girl? She <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">went</span> 9 for 10 (and the 1 may read this so I am not going to say who it is). Then, she proceeded to list everyone in her class, and their gender. </div><br /><div>She then decided to brush my hair, and give me a headband. As she put the headband on, she said, "there you go big boy." And not "big boy" like in the way a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">tranny</span> would say it...more like the opposite of what <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Newmommy</span> says when she puts the headband on her: "there you go big girl". In other words...she's starting to get it.<br /><br /></div><div>Now, how to I convince her to stay away from the boys until she's twenty-one? </div>buddaddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14095556344790625571noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32095143.post-32732527616863273162008-09-08T13:43:00.003-05:002008-09-08T14:49:12.264-05:00Back to School<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.geocities.com/Hollywood/Studio/8290/rodney.GIF"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 218px; height: 168px;" src="http://www.geocities.com/Hollywood/Studio/8290/rodney.GIF" alt="" border="0" /></a>It's quite a day: Bud turned two, and started preschool. It's hard to imagine that just two years ago yesterday, I was trying to fall asleep on a hospital floor while awaiting Bud's first appearance, and today, I was sitting in a mini-classroom, trying to squeeze my ass into a bright yellow kid's chair. Neither was comfortable...and I wasn't ready for either. But, like life and parenting, you've always gotta keep moving forward.<br /><br />6:40am, and I was still feeling the effects of yesterday's second birthday party. No, not a hangover, not from alcohol, at least. Running around chasing kids, while manning the camera, and putting down pizza and cake (more than I should in an attempt to justify what I was paying for!) followed by opening and assembling the new toys will take its toll on anyone. By the way, the toys have moved from music-y, block-y, plastic-y baby toys to girl-y, princess-y, ballerina-y girl toys. Newmommy wakes me up. I'm taking today off from work, but yet, I'm waking up at the same time.<br /><br />7:35am, we wake up Bud. The wake up routine is somewhat easy: we look at her, she looks at up with a big "Hiiiiiiiiiii. Have good dre-ams." We sing happy birthday.<br /><br />8:25am. We give ourselves an extra 15 minutes before the trip to the preschool for pictures. What is this, a friggin' wedding? Bud alone...Bud with mommy....Bud with daddy. Daddy with the backpack....Mommy with a bagel, etc. 30 pictures total..what did they do before digital photography?<br /><br />8:55am. Bud's running through the school towards the classroom, not realizing that her two-decades full of studying, tests and state capitals are awaiting her at the other side of the door.<br /><br />9:00am. Studying, tests and state capitals are obviously a long way off. This year it's dress-up, <strike>blocks</strike> manipulatives and art. She begins playing with an animal/barn set very similar to what she has in her own playroom. She seems to like it.<br /><br />9:15am. Bud shows little interest in the art project, but seems to be slowly acclimating to the environment. A bit hesitant, until the teacher announces that we're heading outside to the <span style="font-weight: bold;">playground</span>. She said the magic word.<br /><br />9:30am. Newdaddy asks his first neurotic-parent question of the teacher: "How can you watch 12 kids in such a big playground." Answer: we're more spread out than usual because we have the parents here...but we usually focus on a smaller area. When more classes are out here, the teachers take "zones." OK, acceptable answer.<br /><br />9:45am. Snack. Bud is very interested in Cheerios....and drinking water out of a cup. She got about half in the mouth and half on her dress. That teacher better improve that ratio before June! <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/184/473292404_a6eef874c6.jpg?v=0"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/184/473292404_a6eef874c6.jpg?v=0" alt="" border="0" /></a>10am. We leave. It's a short session today, parents admitted. On Wednesday, it's a full day, parents optional. <br /><br />When Bud gets up from her nap, we're going to celebrate in a more traditional style: with some ice cream. All in all, I think Bud did great. Newmommy...well, she has more adjusting to do! I'm sure she'll do great too. That is, of course, until it's time to drop her off at college. But that's a few years away!buddaddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14095556344790625571noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32095143.post-24064052878903556642008-09-06T22:28:00.002-05:002008-09-06T22:46:24.649-05:00Things I Learned in Pre-School Orientation<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://content9.flixster.com/question/41/37/21/4137219_std.png"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://content9.flixster.com/question/41/37/21/4137219_std.png" alt="" border="0" /></a>Bud starts <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">pre</span>-school on Monday, which also happens to be her second birthday. This past Thursday night, I attended <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">pre</span>-school orientation. Here are some things I learned.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">1. "Peanut Free" is different from "Peanut Aware." </span>When asked if the school is "Peanut Free," the administrator responded, "no, but we are <span style="font-style: italic;">peanut aware</span>, meaning that we don't serve peanuts or anything with peanuts, but don't control what kids bring to school." Nobody I knew growing up had a peanut allergy- how is it that this has suddenly become such a huge issue?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">2. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Pre</span>-Schools have their own "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" policy. </span>If you kid gets <span style="font-style: italic;">bitten</span>, you are notified, but they won't tell you who bit your kid. Isn't that unconstitutional...isn't there something in there about confronting your kid's biter? The administrator did point out, however, that the kids usually tell their parents who the culprit was.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">3. Toys are now called "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Manipulatives</span>." </span>The <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">pre</span>-school gives kids the opportunity to stack, sort and play with "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">manipulatives</span>." Back in my peanut-loving preschool days, they were called "blocks."<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">4. The kid of the parents in the row behind me is potty trained. </span>Honor student. I hope they grade on a curve here.<br /><br />In all seriousness, this school looks like it's going to be really fun for Bud. If you were to close your eyes and picture a nursery school teacher...her new teacher is what you'd come up with. The place looked to be run very professionally (much more than I expected from a nursery school), which made me feel like we made the right choice. On Monday, Bud's formal education begins...and I'll be taking the day off.buddaddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14095556344790625571noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32095143.post-4290163797899432052008-08-31T07:50:00.002-05:002008-08-31T08:02:48.634-05:00Rock On...Yesterday, while trying to find Bud's latest favorite episode of "Little Einsteins," on <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">OnDemand</span>, I stumbled upon <a href="http://www.thekaraokechannel.com/">The Karaoke Channel</a> which conveniently had a "Kid's Karaoke" option. I put on "Twinkle, Twinkle" and Bud's wheels began to turn. During the first pass through the song she was pointing out letters, "B for Baby", "D for Daddy"...and she started singing the song on the second pass. <br /><br />Karaoke has got to be a great activity for kids- not only can they rock out to their favorite songs, but it also must be helpful in develop reading skills, as the words light up as they sing them. <br /><br />Of course, at the end of the song, an announcer says, "For more information, visit our website..." For some reason, Bud became obsessed with this part, and went the whole day asking "for more information." Or more like "Good Morning, A Mission..."<br /><br />(For more information about Karaoke, please visit the Karaoke Channel website, or go to K-Town in NYC and rent a private room.)buddaddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14095556344790625571noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32095143.post-7257492060220676102008-08-24T10:01:00.003-05:002008-08-25T20:48:48.306-05:00The Scariest WordToday I heard the scariest word from a woman since <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Newmommy</span> said "Ring." The word is: "Mine." Yes, two weeks shy of the second birthday, Bud has used that oh-so-common word that declares to the world the sense of self. And that pretty much nothing else matters.<br /><br />Not that Bud hasn't declared her sense of self already. She is now regularly telling us what to do ("Daddy, sit for you!")...what she wants ("More strawberries!")...and to leave her alone and let her do it herself ("No hands, daddy!"...."[Bud] do it!!").<br /><br />And, she absolutely insists that we play her favorite games, which so far consist of "Looks Like So Much Fun" (which is pretty much just spinning around in circles saying "looks like so much fun") and "Restaurant", which is basically asking her what she would like, and giving her pretend French toast. I win every time.<br /><br />Bud starts <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">pre</span>-school in two weeks (I know, right...) Her teacher sent the class postcards welcoming the kids to her class. Bud wanted to play with this "teacher book", and when we took it back to go in the upcoming scrapbook, Bud yelled, "Hold it! Mine!!"<br /><br />Uh oh.buddaddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14095556344790625571noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32095143.post-20014731752300841252008-07-28T12:59:00.003-05:002008-07-28T13:08:38.791-05:004 Year Old ManipulationI was having lunch at a friend's house recently, when his four-year-old daughter began taking chips from an open bag on the kitchen table. My friend asked his little girl to stop taking the chips, and she complied momentarily. Then, as if to "challenge" her daddy, she slowly stuck her hand in the chips while staring directly at my friend, and grabed a chip.<br /><br />Angered, the daddy asked, "why did you take a chip while looking directly at me??" As if to ask, "you know what you're doing is wrong...and you know that I know what you're doing is wrong....so why did you do it??"<br /><br />Not missing a beat, the little girl replied, "because I love you."<br /><br />Game. Set. Match. <br /><br />How do you argue with logic like that?buddaddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14095556344790625571noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32095143.post-63147137008496040062008-07-12T19:08:00.002-05:002008-07-13T14:54:45.272-05:00What is Love? Baby don't hurt me...Bud dances now. But when she does, she really only moves her head around. I think I've seen that dance before...<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/51N73FNSDML._SS500_.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/51N73FNSDML._SS500_.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>While she danced the other day, I started to sing the theme song, until I realized that the last thing you want your kid repeating in public is "don't hurt me."buddaddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14095556344790625571noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32095143.post-64424318901411235382008-07-12T18:49:00.003-05:002008-07-12T19:06:40.463-05:00We Don't Throw Food......except that one time in college when me, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Bluto</span> and Pinto wanted to get back at those damn Omegas...wait that was someone else. <br /><br />There are a few sure signs of adulthood...if being thirty-two years old isn't enough. Preferring <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">VH</span>1 to MTV is one. Appreciating history (damn, that John Adams series was good!) is another. Knowing that Freddie Mac is not a McDonald's character is another. And saying "We Don't Throw Food" more than ten times in a week is certainly one.<br /><br />Yes, my friends, we have entered what some might call the "Terrible Twos," although I cringe when I hear people use that expression much in the same way I've been cringing during those damn Mohegan Sun commercials. "M-m-m-my Mohegan....shut up!!"<br /><br />Until now, we haven't had many "behavior" issues, so this is my first brush with being a disciplinarian, and I sort of feel like the principal in You Can't Do That On Television...("OK, Moose, for your detention I'd like you to copy pages 5 through 1,523 of this dictionary..." ) Tonight, as we walked into a Mexican restaurant, Bud threw her <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">sippy</span> cup at the hostess and grunted "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Meeh</span>!" We had to explain to her why that type of behavior was not right, and broke out the big guns when she refused to eat and kept throwing her food...no watching her Grover DVD tonight. <br /><br />Part of me feels like a real A-hole because Bud really doesn't understand and fully appreciate all of life's rules. So, it must be really hard to be doing simple things like dropping her fork, or pulling her straw out of her drink or dipping her crayon in the guacamole, or dropping her peach in my morning coffee, and constantly being told "No!" On the other hand, she has to learn the rules, and the only real way to learn is to be constantly reminded. <br /><br />I considered whether the food-throwing is a behavior "problem," but I figure that all 22-month-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">olds</span> act like this in some way. So, for now, I've gotta be a cop and constantly stop Bud when she breaks the rules. I'm sure she'll get it. Until she goes to college, I guess, and then all bets are off. Still, I've got some time before I have to worry about that.buddaddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14095556344790625571noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32095143.post-10933536094456155562008-06-29T19:28:00.003-05:002008-06-29T19:38:08.454-05:00My Daughter the Frat BoySign my daughter up for a frat. <br /><br />Friday night, she walks into our family room, "watch the Yankees." Not Elmo...not Dora...the Yankees. "See Joe De-a-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">magio</span>." OK, a few years too late...but the right idea. At least she knows "De-lick <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Je</span>-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">ler</span>." <br /><br />Saturday morning, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Newmommy</span> asks, "What do you want for breakfast?" "Beers." The fact that she said beer<span style="font-style: italic;">s</span>...plural...made that priceless. <span style="font-style: italic;">Not 'till you're fifteen.....</span><br /><br />Today, we told her we were having a bar-b-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">que</span>. All day "bar-b-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">que</span>...bar-b-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">que</span>...." Of course, by the time the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">grillin</span>' was almost done, she was, as <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Newaunt</span> would say, a "hot mess," so we needed to put her down for a nap. First thing she said when she woke up: "hot dogs! hot dogs!" <br /><br />Sports, alcohol and meat. Damn, I'm a good father.<br /><br />[N.B.: No...of course I don't give Bud beer. But, I do give her hot dogs....kosher hot dogs...(<span style="font-style: italic;">what kind of dad feeds kosher hot dogs??</span>). And, I expose her to the Yankees like all good fathers should.]buddaddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14095556344790625571noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32095143.post-51121535741333013722008-06-17T21:54:00.002-05:002008-06-17T22:06:42.870-05:00World's Best Dad My Ass...Dear Guy-at-the-beach-on-Sunday-wearing-the-"World's-Best-Dad-T-Shirt,"<br /><br />You <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">sonofabitch</span>.<br /><br />How dare you wear a T-Shirt that says "World's Best Dad" on Father's Day? Father's Day is the one day out of the year when all of us fathers get to stop, look at our families, and take pride in what we've accomplished for our children. It is a day when we get to bask in the pride and admiration of our wives and children. And you have the nerve to publicly announce that you're better than the rest of us.<br /><br />Are you <span style="font-style: italic;">really</span> the World's Best Dad? Who made that decision? I am unaware of any international committee that tabulates research results or surveys from all over the world to arrive at one person who can truly claim the title "World's Best." And even if there was, I would question their methodologies...I doubt any group can truly and accurately obtain and sift through all of the world's information regarding fatherhood, and arrive at one certain "World's Best." But, I don't think you were chosen by <span style="font-style: italic;">any</span> committee. Methinks your kids just <span style="font-style: italic;">bought</span> you the shirt, without doing any <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">friggin</span>' research at all. That's pretty presumptive.<br /><br />Plus, I saw you spending most of your time on the blackberry. I am pretty sure that the World's Best Father would spend zero time on his blackberry while lounging with the kids. In fact, World's Best would probably not even OWN a blackberry...he would spend all of his non-office time with his kids.<br /><br />I award you no points, and may Gd have mercy on your soul.<br /><br />Best,<br /><br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Newdaddy</span>buddaddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14095556344790625571noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32095143.post-59346927515879206992008-06-14T14:43:00.003-05:002008-06-14T14:52:07.480-05:00Goin' to the 'po...I don't get you Home Depot dads...these guys who spend every weekend morning at the '<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">po</span> (as my former boss used to call it) and every weekend day doing a house project. I spend my weeks busting my ass in the office; I can't imagine spending my weekend re-siding my house, extending my garage two towns over, or putting in a new anything. I spent my afternoon today putting together a small plastic <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">climby</span>-wall-thing-with-a-slide for Bud, and that was a pain! Plus, every time I go to Home Depot, I end up getting the wrong thing, and having to turn around and go back. No, I don't bring home a toilet flusher when I was going for a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">lightbulb</span>...but, without fail, every time I buy anything, it's always 1/8 inch off.<br /><br />Someone asked me, after I gave this rant, if the problem is that I'm just not handy. I don't think it's that, although I've never really tested out my skills in that area.<br /><br />Two exceptions. One...electronics. I can wire a stereo together pretty well, add speakers, etc. Of course, if I need to rewrite the outlets or install speakers in the wall...I'm out. Two...my grill. I love that <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">friggin</span>' thing...ever since we got it earlier this summer I've been addicted to grilling burgers, hot dogs, chicken, you name it. A moth landed on the grill as I was cooking last night...and I thought, just for a moment, that it wouldn't be <span style="font-style: italic;">so </span>bad to see how that would come out blackened...!<br /><br />I realize that grilling has nothing to do with being handy...I just wanted to bring it up.buddaddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14095556344790625571noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32095143.post-64523506915855478782008-05-24T12:08:00.003-05:002008-05-24T12:23:06.691-05:00The "L" Word**No, not <span style="font-style: italic;">that</span> "L" word.<br /><br />Almost every population has an associated slur that's typically offensive to that type of person. Races, religions, nationalities, disabilities, people who excel at certain activities, people who are prone to certain activities...one thing they all have in common is that at some point, someone dreamed up a word to offensively describe them.<br /><br />And, today, I learned that little girls are offended by the term "Little." Let me explain...<br /><br />Bud is in the point-out-everything-she-sees phase. Playground. Slide. Pizza. Today, we were at the playground, and Bud sees a little girl. She said, "Little girl." The girl whipped her head around and said, "I'm <span style="font-style: italic;">not</span> little. I'm a <span style="font-style: italic;">big</span> girl 'cause I'm <span style="font-style: italic;">four</span>!" My one-year-old offended this girl! The <strike>little</strike> big girl turns to her father and says, "Daddy...she called me little!"<br /><br />Uh, oh. Seems like I have to sit down with Bud and explain to her that she just can't go around spouting ageist slurs like that.<br /><br />Let this be a warning to you all. I wasn't aware that this was offensive. The next time you're in a bar and the population is predominantly women under the age of seven, make sure you avoid using the L-word.buddaddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14095556344790625571noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32095143.post-52934223298206827642008-05-14T19:09:00.007-05:002008-05-14T19:28:31.392-05:00The Newdaddy! Hall of FameThe <span style="font-weight: bold;">Newdaddy! Hall of Fame</span> recognizes individuals who have provided substantial support or advancement to the field of parenting. And today, I honor, <span style="font-weight: bold;">Professional Family Portrait Photographer from the Babies-R-Us I Went to Last Weekend.<br /><br /></span>Only someone with patience and dedication can truly put up with an anxious father looking to get the perfect mother's day present, a twenty-month-old who can't, won't and has no interest in sitting still for a fifteen-minute photo shoot, and the proud-yet-embarrassed mother wanting perfect photos from the prettiest yet most squirmy little girl in the world.<br /><br />Only someone with cat-like speed and reflexes, and the timing of a Superbowl quarterback, can capture the millisecond-held smiles between the frowns and cries. Only someone with an advanced degree in child psychology and the experience of a hundred grandmothers can figure out how to get an u<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIFi1oJI93fUirRlKJDsl5LV4rQUSeLDZ4_xwUZ712TzYAka5eUc6X9qo3YlNz4Ba69aPlE0nHKaJLJEBFN4b1ubfqpBTUQtgyShJ8c44p8D-O8QtcqwG3z3hzvCOuzOgNB1iq/s1600-h/in+laws+057.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 260px; height: 195px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIFi1oJI93fUirRlKJDsl5LV4rQUSeLDZ4_xwUZ712TzYAka5eUc6X9qo3YlNz4Ba69aPlE0nHKaJLJEBFN4b1ubfqpBTUQtgyShJ8c44p8D-O8QtcqwG3z3hzvCOuzOgNB1iq/s320/in+laws+057.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5200393685359868834" border="0" /></a>pset, tired, hungry child to even put on those smiles.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">Professional Family Portrait Photographer from the Babies-R-Us I Went to Last Weekend, welcome to the Newdaddy! Hall of Fame</div>buddaddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14095556344790625571noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32095143.post-73938875483473128082008-05-11T20:10:00.003-05:002008-05-11T20:13:36.680-05:00Mother's Day MemoriesHappy Mother's Day!<br /><br />Today makes me think of Mother's Day two years ago, when <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Newmommy</span> was pregnant with Bud, and I didn't get her a present or otherwise acknowledge the day for her, thinking that Mother's Day didn't apply to pregnant women. <br /><br />As it turns out, Mother's Day applies to pregnant women.<br /><br />Make a note.buddaddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14095556344790625571noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32095143.post-3154939810419047412008-05-10T20:10:00.003-05:002008-05-10T20:22:55.629-05:00Get Your Hibachi On<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Newmommy</span> and I went out on a limb tonight and took Bud for hibachi. We figured it would either be really cool or a complete disaster. Bud is going through something of a whiny phase, and if you mess with her eating routine it only gets worse. It turns out- hibachi is a great place to take your young kids.<br /><br />First of all, its loud, and the sizzling of the hibachi and clanking of the knives drown out any whining, crying or loud talking. Second, the "show" keeps kids occupied. Third, they serve a variety of food over the course of the meal, so if the kid doesn't like one or many items, there are still others to choose from. <br /><br />Well, that was a pretty good seventh grade three-point-argument paragraph.<br /><br />Bud did really well- she was in somewhat of a bad mood when we first got there. (Today was particularly tough as we spent the morning taking professional family photos. More on that later.) But, when the food started coming, she was trying everything and loving it...<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">miso</span> soup, fried rice, noodles, steak (I am so proud, she <span style="font-style: italic;">loved</span> it!), chicken...this chick really went to town. She did get a bit freaked out when they lit the fire, but handled it very maturely...turning away, no crying, and clapping her hands when it was done. Oh, and she ordered rice from the waitress...looking at her and yelling "RICE!" <br /><br />I recommend giving it a try.buddaddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14095556344790625571noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32095143.post-38650284524541537012008-05-07T20:04:00.003-05:002008-05-07T20:20:09.505-05:00I Suck at BloggingWow, do I suck at blogging. This thing started with the proverbial "full head of steam," and now I realize that this is the longest intermission between posts since I started. No, I'm not looking to give it up. To avoid sounding like an erectile dysfunction commercial, I've been under a lot of stress lately...really busy at work. Of course, that's a total lie. Well, not a total lie, as I am quite busy at work, but I actually do have time to write...I've just been, how you say, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">hella</span>-lazy. I have been watching the developing train wreck that is the 2008 Yankees (yes, I do realize they have a better record then they did at this point last year, but I also realize that you can't make a serious run with only two-and-a-half pitchers in your starting rotation.) <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Newmommy</span> turned me on to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Facebook</span>, and I've reconnected with a whole bunch of high school friends...if by "reconnected", you mean accepted them as a friend, wrote one e-mail back-and-forth, and then recommenced where we were immediately prior to the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Facebook</span> discovery. <br /><br />I guess part of it is a temporary lapse in good post ideas. Bud's doing amazing things every day, so that really shouldn't be the case, although a lot of times I can't think of a good "spin" for the story, and I don't report to avoid simply pouring details about my kid. Like George Carlin said, "We'd don't care about your kids, that's why they're <span style="font-style: italic;">your kids.</span>" <br /><br />But, now that I've gotten the blood flowing through the fingertips, I hope to get back on the blogging horse, and not put a tent around it on the track. <br /><br />I think Abe Lincoln said it best, when he said, "Be excellent to each other. And...party on dude."buddaddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14095556344790625571noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32095143.post-83516121821545989302008-04-24T19:23:00.004-05:002008-04-24T19:33:44.963-05:00Bud Knows the Alphabet...all Twenty-Seven LettersShe picked it up from the Sesame Street Sing-a-Long DVD, which goes:<br /><br />"A, B, C, [...], L, M, N, O, P, <em>everybody, </em>Q, R, S...."<br /><br />So, now, between P and Q is the letter "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">bali</span>."<br /><br />But, more importantly, she's starting to learn the <em>real </em>basics. Ask her who's in her "Yankee Book." "Joe Di-a-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">magio</span>." Hey, close enough. Oh, and "Derek <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Je</span>-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">ler</span>."<br /><br />I'm sure there's a "Big <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Poopie</span>" joke somewhere in there, but I'm too lazy to look for it.<br /><br /><br /><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://us.st11.yimg.com/us.st.yimg.com/I/yhst-72265240912547_1995_17909253" border="0" />buddaddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14095556344790625571noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32095143.post-89098815354871271252008-04-22T21:33:00.003-05:002008-04-22T21:47:01.012-05:00The Bread of AfflictionTrying to get a one-year-old to sit through the entire Passover <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">seder</span> is a bit of a challenge, but <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Newmommy</span> and I figured we'd get as far as we could. Apparently, someone had tipped Bud off to the fact that the first <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">seder</span> marks the beginning of eight days without bread or food with any sort of leavening. Early in the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">seder</span>, the leader holds a piece of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">matzah</span> and declares, "this is the bread of affliction, that our forefathers ate in the land of Egypt." As soon as those words left my mouth, my daughter, on perfect cue, replies, "Pizza." <br /><br />Exactly. <br /><br />In all fairness, she did enjoy everything on the menu. And I mean <span style="font-style: italic;">everything</span>. This one-year-old eats chopped liver (<a href="http://newdaddy.blogspot.com/2007/09/what-am-i-chopped-liver.html">but we already knew that)</a>, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">gefilte</span> fish, stuffed cabbage, brisket, and anything else that comes out of a Jewish grandmother's kitchen.<br /><br />P.S. We welcome A-Rod (back) to the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Newdaddy</span> club; he and his wife had a baby girl last night. Now, let's try decorating that chick's room with a world series trophy!buddaddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14095556344790625571noreply@blogger.com0