She’s cool as a cucumber and stopped needing the diaper early. Not that it’s a competition.
This is perhaps the first post that AT might one day in her teen years actually be a bit pissed at me about. Please sweetheart, forgive me in advance and tell your therapist that I am not a monster. Recently, at the behest of her pediatrician, we setup a visit to discuss bed-wetting. This provider instilled a level of worry in my ex-wife that was slightly below the nuclear option. The provider thought we should come in to discuss “the issue”.
This started as a harmless 4 year check up appointment setting and the passing comment, “Is it a bit strange that she’s still wearing a diaper at night?”
She’s been sans-diaper all-day since before she was two, but she still doesn’t wake up in the night to pee… and she ain’t holding it.
Fina and I have experienced the failed experiment of just ripping the bandaid off – peeing her (as Pappa Goob says) before bed and hoping she doesn’t wet the bed. The result thus far is that we’ve been changing the sheets daily by letting her pee the bed night after night for a week. This as you might imagine, was not productive.
AT’s mom was smarter about it and just didn’t take the diaper off for sleeping; and the guilt pouring into her emails planning this emergency doctor’s appointment echoed that of a mom who woke up one day and realized it was probably weird to still be breastfeeding her 13 year old.
AT ended up having a pretty unnecessary, if not mildly reassuring, visit with a healthcare provider — but it wasn’t her pediatrician. He was a 20-something Doctor of Herbs and Massages (or Naturopath for short) from Bastyr. He was super chill, said don’t fret, and told us that if she was still doing it at 6 start trying some home remedies.
The ARNP that serves as her pediatrician (pretty great, so I guess busy) wasn’t actually able to see her when we went to the appointment that had been scheduled in the previous day’s panic. So, thankfully we’ll be back in a couple weeks for her actual check-up.
In this 4th edition of RockStar Podcast we got right into the heart of pop culture: Frozen. It’s a phenomena like cholera: Frozen. AT also discusses a bit of the perception of her classmates at school re: 2 moms, 2 dads. Deep, yet completely surface.
This most recent podcast was much more disjointed and significantly longer than any other podcast we’ve ever done. The format and feel are reminiscent of an experimental art rock band’s first show – with a dab more angst. It’s pretty deep. If you don’t like it it’s probably because you can’t appreciate art.
Rockstar Visions #3 is a 3 part experiment with 3 distinct elements: 1) Do’s and Don’t’s of Rockstar (hint: something you shouldn’t do on a plane), 2) Eatin’ Burgers and Talkin’ Bout Life (cousins in Ukraine), 3) The marriage of the married girl Elsa to King Diamond (with exciting sub-story about our brothers and sisters of the animal kingdom, the majestic Giraffe). ~ Enjoy
Rockstar Visions Co-host A-Tay swinging – Eurovisions-style. Photo: ALT
Setting for the inaugural RockStar. Like a rock star, included many locations and states of facial hair.
Some might say we’ve gotten to the point of saturation (saturation point, for short) in terms of channels to our fans. We’ve got the website, e-store, chiclet distributorship, garment factory consultancy, t-shirt gun, and on and on. To those people we say, hooey. The next natural iteration for Worlds Best Daddy (DOT O – R – G) is to launch a podcast.
AT decided on the name RockStar last night at dinner. No equivocations. It will be a mix of Ellen and Judge Judy with sprinkle of Telletubby. Please feel free to send us your questions or any subject matter you’d like us to tackle.
Please bare in mind that this is our first shot at this. And we only needed 1 take. So don’t worry if there is a couple (periods) of (20 seconds) of silence, it’s about to pick right back up. It’s good from there. Don’t even think of fast-forwarding. So, voila, enjoy, and you’re welcome! And thanks~ AT & WBD
I think this is getting a bit ridiculous. Please someone correct me if my assumptions are way off, but I thought the obsession over boys or a boy in particular might not happen until her early teen years. It’s happening now in preschool!
I always assumed that with our advancing modernity we could expect our kids to experiment with drugs earlier. However, the trend is actually going the opposite direction according to recent annual reports by the NIH – which shows kids are waiting longer to experiment with hard drugs and protecting their little underdeveloped brains to focus more clearly on boy obsession!!!!???!! I’m having a hard time deciding whether I’d prefer she started on bath salts earlier.
Pretty hard to find more damning evidence of mainstream culture encouraging underage marriage than Bratz! These girls are supposed to be teenagers!! All rights reserved by MsWatermelon813
In the end there is not much that separates us from them. We are meant to give to them. We are meant
to be a bottomless source of love to them. But we use them in the same way. We demand of them
bottomless love and at least some service. Service and love. Sounds like a Sunday sermon. But I am
not talking about service to God, or God’s love. I am talking about the future, our children. (A terrifying
thought that something that I produce would be responsible for anything, but hell, why not. I’m pretty
responsible.) I would put emphasis on the bottomless part of the third sentence of this paragraph. Not
that we as parents are tried or that we don’t fail, but the expectation is there, that expectation that our
patience will not end.
Parenting can make us all lose identity, but then they do things like this and you don’t care.
I think I’m pretty good at not letting what my 3 year old says in the heat of an argument about TV, eggy burritos, or going to bed (our 3 biggest topics of disagreement) really bother me. She will scream, she will throw a torrential downpour of tears and feigned violence upon me, and it’s really stressful and my blood pressure definitely rises, but I am reasonably good at getting her off the ledge without resorting to my own hysterics. That being said, yesterday was the first time she’s ever dropped her trump card, “I DON’T LOVE YOU DADDY!”, and I have to admit, it stung a bit. A lot bit.
Now, I’m as macho as any self-actualized-urban-dad-impersonator (SAUDI) out there, and I was raised not to complain,¹ so I’ve perfected my stoicism in the face of these outbursts. She generally has no idea how upset I am in inside.
Yesterday, however, she was displeased that I was picking her up and not her mother and when I dropped MY usual trump card for everything, “I love you, sweetie²”(seriously, try it on ANYONE in ANY situation, IT WILL WORK), she threw the “I don’t”royal flush response right back in my face. Lame poker references aside, I was floored.