The Baby Expert

May 27, 2014

Make a Wish

Before we had Caitlyn, I would zip around town in a Toyota Vios, the cheapest, smallest, most reliable car that could be had for people on a budget. There was really no concern for space. But after Caitlyn came around and there was a need to put in a car seat along with lugging countless diaper bags and various knick-knacks, space became an issue.

Even with me pulling the driver’s seat all the way forward so that my knees were practically touching my chest, the wife would still complain about not having enough space in the back. This would only be magnified when my parents would come to visit for extended periods of time and space became an even more precious, limited resource.

Even after I traded the Vios in for a bigger sedan, complaints would still arise from time to time. It was then that I decided it was time to say the one word most men dread when it comes to buying a car - “mini-van.”

They’re the complete opposite of sporty and sexy, but what it lacks in physical appeal, a mini-van more than makes up with physical space. I realized that to give the wife the space she was looking for was to add a second row in the back. Any extra passengers or bags could be thrown into this row when needed without the wife sacrificing any of her space.

In my eyes, the Toyota Wish was the perfect car for us, especially if we ever plan on expanding our family. It has decent gas mileage, two rows of seating in the back, and is actually smaller than our previous sedan for easy maneuverability in the city. Thinking that the wife would see eye to eye with me, I laid out my well-thought-out plan to finally get her the car she needed.

Unfortunately, her response merely confirmed that women just aren’t the logical and rational creatures they like to think they are. Instead of jumping up and down for joy over the prospect of having all the space she could possibly want, she stated that it was ugly and that it reminded her of a taxi car.

Well, first of all, this isn’t a beauty contest. Beauty is only skin deep. Second of all, having taxi drivers everywhere driving this car is probably a good sign, as it means that it’s a reliable and useful car for transporting people around town.

After much heated debate and discussion, I finally wore her down, and she reluctantly agreed to the car, though she warned me that it didn’t mean she was going to like the decision. But after having ridden around in the car for about two weeks now, I haven’t heard a peep from her yet, which is the wife’s way of telling me that I was right and she was wrong.

And it couldn’t have come at a better time because my parents unexpectedly came up for another two-month visit without any real prior warning. What better time than now to put this bad boy to use! The icing on the cake is that for whatever reason, Caitlyn has now started insisting that the wife sit in the front passenger seat instead of next to her. Win-win for everybody.

Happy times

At the beach

Long way home

Picture time!

Run, Forrest, run!

Kisses!

View from room

Taking a stroll through the grass

Balancing beam

Picture perfect

Strike a pose

Kickin' it

Look what I caught

At Ocean Park

Flying in the water

Feeding time

Looking for jade

River stream

Looking for Mommy

View from the lake

May 13, 2014

Fright Night

First and foremost, a happy belated Mother’s Day to one of the hardest working woman in the world who holds down the fort day in and day out and puts up with my annoying habits and shenanigans. Your tops in my book!

After an early Mother’s Day dinner on Friday, the wife and I were cozied up watching True Detective on TV late at night, when out of the blue, Caitlyn comes out of the bedroom and walks to the end of the hallway to the living room. This, in and of itself, is surprising because she never does that. If she ever wakes up, she’ll always choose to shout out our names and wait for us to come to her instead of actually climbing out of bed to find us.

But what happened next was creepy. Instead of looking at us and speaking as one might do when seeing someone for the first time, she had a glazed-over look in her eyes and proceeded to walk silently into the kitchen. My first thought was, “Oh my God! She’s been possessed by a ghost or demon!” My second thought was, “She must be sleepwalking.” My third thought was, “Yup, she’s definitely been possessed.”

As the wife and I watched Caitlyn wander into the kitchen, we weren’t sure what to do. This has never happened before, which made it all the creepier. My mind started racing through all the horror movies I’ve ever seen with scary kids as I began to get goose bumps all over my arms. What's the correct protocol for dealing with demon-possessed children?

A few seconds passed in which there was no sound or movement, so we decided to get up to see exactly what she doing. What we saw was enough to give me chills down my spine. Caitlyn was just standing in the middle of the kitchen blankly staring at the rice cooker. “Why the rice cooker,” I remember thinking. But I suppose looking at a harmless rice cooker is better than looking at the sharp knives on the counter that can slice and dice.

After about ten seconds of this, she turned to look at us. Oh, snap! This is the part where she says, “Time for you die,” in a demonic voice while pointing a finger at us. The wife finally broke the tension by going in and picking her up, at which point, the glazed-over look left Caitlyn’s face.

Looking back, I don’t know if I would have had the testicular fortitude to go in to pick up Caitlyn after something like that. I’ve seen way to many movies where the child suddenly lunges at the person and proceeds to bite and maim the victim. I would have kept her at a good stick’s length and told her to get back into bed by herself, and when I was sure she was asleep, secretly lock the door.

I love my daughter, but I’m not about to have her turn all Paranormal Activity on me. You can never be too careful.

Caitlyn's best bud at school

Happy Mother's Day!

It's stuck on my finger!

Making chocolate-covered pretzels

Serious about candy-making

Who says I'm scary?

April 29, 2014

Bully for You

Recently, the wife informed me that Caitlyn’s teacher had told her about a situation at school where a student had taken away a toy that she was playing with. Instead of running to the teacher and telling her what had happened or crying like most children would, Caitlyn just stood there silently watching the kid play with his newly acquired toy. When the teacher brought the boy over and asked her if he had taken her toy, Caitlyn refused to say anything. It wasn’t until the teacher led her away from him that Caitlyn said, in an extremely quiet tone, that the boy did indeed take her toy.

This concerned the wife a bit, though by no means did it take her by surprise. It's not like this is the first time we've heard of such things from Caitlyn's teacher. Our child does lean more towards the shy, timid side. However, that doesn’t mean it’s OK to be taken advantage of or perhaps bullied, in the future.

The wife told Caitlyn that she has to fight back, to take back what is hers. An eye for an eye. Personally, I’m not so sure about that. I’m more of a lover, not a fighter kind of guy. I believe in diffusing a situation, not escalating it. Surely there are more peaceful ways of settling problems than with force, fists, and fighting.

When I was in middle school, there was a kid that bullied me. I would ignore his comments or laugh them off. One day, he decided to punch me in the stomach while in the locker room for no good reason. I tried not to show that I was in pain, but at the same time, didn’t do anything about it. Thankfully, I had a friend who was pretty intimidating looking, and he saw the whole thing. He chewed out the bully and said if he ever tried to bully me again, he would regret it.

A few weeks later, the bully came up to and asked me for a piece of paper to write his homework on. I obliged and in turn, he said, “thank-you.” I still clearly remember this even though it happened years ago because it really threw me off guard to hear that word coming out of his mouth.

Did my act of kindness move his heart? Or was he thinking of my friend’s ominous warning. Maybe the wife and I are both right. Caitlyn does need to stand up for herself, but at the same time, be a person of kindness and compassion. It almost seems conflictory. I’m gonna shake my fist in your face, but afterwards, I’m going to give you a hug. Confusion might be our best friend when dealing with bullies.

March 24, 2014

Who's Got Talent?

Every parent has hopes that their child can be gifted at something, whether it be playing a musical instrument, singing, drawing, or sports. We look at what their interests are and send them off to various extracurricular activities, hoping to find the next Mozart, or Picasso, or Michael Jordan in them.

In that regard, the wife and I have started mulling over which types of classes to send Caitlyn to. She likes taking pictures with her camera and pretending to cook, but photography and cooking classes will probably have to wait until she's a bit older. So, first up is art class, which Caitlyn starts this week. What kid doesn’t like drawing or doodling? Caitlyn is just starting to develop a more lasting interest in drawing these days, and while her art pieces consist of squiggly lines, they are still pretty fine looking squiggly lines.

Next up on the list will probably be dancing and swimming. As long as Caitlyn’s having fun, I have no problem with whatever class she’s signed up for. But that’s where the wife’s view and mine start to differ. I knew I was in for trouble when she came home one day saying she had read the book, Tiger Mom, and how she agreed with the author about “pushing” her kids to be better.

For example, if we take Caitlyn to piano class and she doesn’t like it after the first lesson, I might encourage her to try it for a few months before making a final decision. If she still doesn’t like it, then she can stop. As long as she tried her best, I wouldn’t really call it quitting. I'd just call it saving Daddy a lot of money.

The wife, on the other hand, thinks that talent doesn’t come naturally to most people; it has to be pushed out. Her favorite example to use is Yo-Yo Ma, the famous cellist. If Yo-Yo’s mom had let him quit, would he have gone on to greatness? Is it feasible to believe that Yo-Yo had the self-discipline to want to practice hours upon hours as a child, or was his mom behind him cracking the whip?

On a side note, I have a funny story about Yo-Yo Ma. When I was in elementary school, my mom brought home this VHS that she had borrowed from her friend. The title read, “Yo-Yo Ma: A Day in Tanglewood.” I thought this was two titles of two different movies. “Yo, yo, Ma,” which I took to be a black comedy, and “A Day in Tanglewood,” which seemed like a boring family movie. Well, was I in for a surprise when I started watching. I kept wondering when the black people would show up, and I kept wondering why the movie kept showing a Chinese guy playing a cello. It wasn’t until later that I realized I had misread the title and had been duped into watching a documentary.

Anyway, so that’s the wife’s argument. We can’t let our child quit whenever she wants to. We have to push her to greatness. I have no problem with encouraging when one is frustrated, but when does encouragement turn into forcefulness. And what’s the big deal about learning to play an instrument? Sure, it enriches our lives and we appreciate music more, but unless that person actually likes playing the instrument, why force them to?

As a kid growing up, I was lucky enough to experience a nice range of activities, such as swimming, drawing, karate, tennis, and soccer. With each of these, my parents never forced me to practice, and whenever I wanted to quit, I was allowed to. But when I started to learn the piano when I was in preschool, their attitude was completely different.

My mom would sit in on my piano lessons and record them, so that we could “review” over it whenever we got home. She would take notes and sit by my side while I practiced. And if I didn’t perform up to her expectations, she would make me practice over and over again. And if I still couldn’t do it, the ruler would come out, as if hitting me on my hands and arms while I was playing would make me play the song correctly.

Sometimes, my practices would last long into the night, sometimes until one or two in the morning, with me crying and wailing to my mom to let me stop. Rest would come in the form of kneeling and facing the wall for being disobedient. No matter how often I would tell my mom I wanted to quit, she would never let me. Instead, she would just push me harder. But after about 8 years, she mercifully allowed me to stop going to lessons. All in all, it wasn’t a very pleasant or happy experience, and one in which I would never want to put my daughter in.

While the wife says she would never take it that far, I’m pretty sure my mom said the same thing when she first started out trying to turn me into a Mozart. But at the very least, after all those years of blood, sweat, and tears, I can bang out the tune to “The Wheels on the Bus,” to the delight of my daughter.