Fail. But kind of pass.

Fail? What have you done, Ben? On the surface, I spent yesterday morning at Children's Hospital with wee Eva, having the cut on her forehead glued back together. Before worry sets in too much, she's okay. The cut is small (and now glued back together). She is in good spirits and hasn't missed a beat.

However, walking into Emergency with your toddler, as a dad, in the middle of summer: I could sense the shaking heads and rolled eyes. I walked in, the stereotype of poorly conceived jokes. Yet, all I had done was go to work that morning. Eva had tripped, as she often does, and caught her head on the baseboard. Oma had patched her up amazingly well and I simply swooped in to take her to the hospital as it was a pretty good gash.

Arriving at the hospital, the staff at Children's were fantastic. They were professional and kind. They had videos and crayons. The only moment that was cringe-worthy was when I was commissioned to help restrain poor Eva whilst they cleaned the cut and held the skin in place for the glue. The doctor did advise me that it would be the worst 10 minutes of my life--and it came close. While she screamed, even the casual observer must have seen how her eyes told the tail of betrayal. Her own father holding her while these strangers fiddled with her "owie". I felt sick. And clearly so... when the ice lolly was delivered to Eva after all was said and done, they brought one for dad too. It was well timed. I needed a lolly. Eva was spent. She's quite good at goodbye these days and as I said thank you and goodbye to the nurse and doctors, she literally screamed "GOODBYE!" For all the betrayal in her eyes earlier, it was nothing compared to the tone in her voice that was one of hearty good riddance to the kind staff who had patched her up.

Despite having her buggy, I carried her back to the car as she collapsed into my shoulder and clung to my shirt. The two of us were shattered and, really, in the grand scheme of things, it wasn't so bad.

So, apart from having to take my youngest little girl to the hospital, how has it gone? I think we're doing okay. Let's measure:

Melt-downs: Hmmm. Cut foreheads aside (which you can't possibly include in my definition), there weren't any yesterday. The day before, there was one... though, it wasn't the kids--it was me, on discovering pen marks all over Eva's carpet. Repeated pleas for Anna to keep her pens out of reach went unheeded and new rules were rushed through that involve "items whose primary use is to make marks on paper or the like," are now to be kept downstairs. Apart from the clean up, we got through that pretty quickly. The day before, it was Anna over the inherently unfair distribution of toys that pervades in our home. So, let's call it 2 over 4 days, giving us an average 0.5 melt-downs/day. Pass.

TV Time: There are some unavoidable TV times in our day. Dinner preparation ranks among them. I flopped down with the kids while the corn-on-the-cob was boiling for 10 minutes and became acutely aware of just how rubbish some of the kids' programming is. The kids (Anna and Caleb... Eva was arranging ever so tiny bits of play-dough around the living room in what might be an effort to make it seem like a beach) were watching a program called Arthur, which appears to be based on the books by the same name. What a completely crap show. As far as I can tell, all the characters are in constant conflict, name-calling, and one-upmanship for 99% of the show until the very end when they all make up and quickly establish some lame moral. Why isn't the moral inherent in the story? Like "be nice to each other" or "resolve differences kindly". I was so appalled that I dragged out Postman Pat and Kipper. Quality British programming where the characters are gentle and kind, even if the stories are ever so slightly pants. I believe I've already seen a change in behaviour... and if I see Arthur I'm going to kick his ass. I also took them to get a movie. In the instance it wasn't transparently obvious by the cover or childhood memories of your own, Alvin and the Chipmunks are really annoying. Overall, I declare a pass.

Getting out of the house: I've got this one down. It helps that the weather has continued to cooperate. I've made it to the North Shore to take the kids on a walk 'round Rice Lake and swimming at our friend Jack's house. I've been to White Rock to the grandparents. I went swimming at the wave pool in Newton (cut a bit short for the safety concerns that maybe should have been more obvious before I went in with three young children). We've been to the water splash park twice. We've been out to rent movies and play at the local park. We've had friends over for a BBQ and played nearly endlessly in the garden with the new water table. We met friends at the Yacht Club (clearly we were guests) and had dinner on the beach. We've done really well on this one. We weren't even kicked out of the Yacht Club.

Eating Well: Mostly. They've definitely eaten vegetables and been hydrating. There have been times on certain days when I've been on the lookout for some sort of nitrate induced hysteria, but noting that melt-downs seem to be statistically normal, I shall assume that we've not yet tipped any internal balances.

Minimize sugar: Yeah. Not so good. There have been a lot of ice lollies. Caleb's lunch request for today was for a Wagon Wheel, Starburts, and a "treat". Clearly he believe the first two items to be food groups in their own right and not worthy of the "treat" moniker. I've turned my focus to brushing teeth thoroughly until Ange gets back.

Getting something non-kid done: it's been okay. The house is clean. I had a beer the other night. In the garden. By myself. Lisa came up on Sunday night and I got to go to the Safeway! Ummm... that is all.

So, we're half way. Thursday and Friday are the toughest because every kid has to get somewhere different for care on the Thursday morning (and Anna needs to move care at lunch) and then I have to get Anna to Maple Ridge and then get back to put the other two to bed and then I go pick her up the next day after work, having picked up the other two... fingers crossed!

Being Dad

When Ange is away, there really isn't any play. Or is there? I fear writing about my efforts at solo parenting when Ange is away because I have only just returned home. In my being away, Ange was alone with three kids. She didn't blog. No complaints have made it back to me. It was all very matter of fact. Ange is that way: matter of fact. I, however, have tendencies to embellish and exaggerate while keeping mostly to "the way it really happened."

Notwithstanding Ange's world view and demeanour, there's nothing matter of fact about 2 weeks alone with three young children whilst working. It's going to be chaos. I am sure it was chaos for her. It will be chaos for me. Ange will be quick to point out that it's not actually 2 weeks either. It's 12 days and my trip was 2 weeks. But if we're getting picky, mine was actually 13 days.

In mental preparation for this, I re-read some blog entries from the Spring of 2009, when Ange went to China for work for 2 weeks (14 days). For those who have any questions about my ability to cope, I submit Day 4 to you. Clearly it's possible (even probable) that I won't cope this time around. It may be a day shorter, but I've actually added a child to the equation. Sleep will be key. In fact, 6 years into this parenting thing and I think there's one fundamental truth to being a parent: you're a better one if you're getting enough sleep.

Interestingly, I established some "day success measurables". They are quite good actually. I'm fond enough of them to apply them again to this round. Copied in large part from April 2009, here they are again:

• Melt-downs. How many in a day. And we're not talking incessant whimpering over some sugary candy or mild-but-insincere crying over leaving the park at a time perceived to be "too early". I'm talking screaming that makes you wonder if they might be doing permanent damage to their vocal chords; lying on the ground kicking; flailing about like a fish out of water; and, of course, feet being stamped. A good judge of the scale is when stranger, neighbours or people who would have no interest in your child's well-being feel compelled to as if "everything is alright?" to which, in a true melt-down, your only response must use your in-your-head-voice which goes something like, "No. It's not 'all' right. Does it look like it's f$#king alright?" 
• Today: 0. With three, that's unmitigated success.
• TV time. How much time is spent in front of the TV in a day. This is tough, because TV is the ultimate cheat with kids. Sadly, it doesn't do much for them and even a little bit too much usually leads to the melt-down described above. Back in 2009, I strove for none but seldom achieved it. So seldom did I achieve it that now less than an hour would be successful. I'm well happy to be past the Disney Princesses movies and onto Pixar movies and the like. At least I can indulge in the adult humour the flies over their heads. 
• Today: 0.5 hours. Caleb was obliterated from his World Cup Soccer Camp and needed to check out while Eva and I got our things together for a drum concert in the local park. Without Eva's help, it might have been 5 minutes of TV, but what do you do? It was less than an hour. Success.
• Getting "out of the house". This probably comes from my parents and I am pretty forgiving if the weather is pants, which it has been nearly without exception for the better part of two years. But it remains critical to a successful day, even if you only make it as far as the garden. Thankfully the weather has turned. It's summer. We've only had 4 days of it, so it's a novelty since summer didn't really happen last year. 
• Today: The park. It included the aforementioned drum concert of dubious quality, playing in the splash pool and time at the play park. Success.
• Eating well. In my mind this has a direct correlation to the quantity and diversity of vegetables consumed. Fruit is a close second. Chips don't count as potatoes and the greener the better when it comes to veggies. 
• Today: Hmmm. Pizza at the park for dinner. Augmented by vegetables. Carrots and broccoli and a few snow peas. The cauliflower was rejected out of hand. Lunches were pretty well balanced. There was definitely not enough calcium... which I won't point out because Anna is too clever and would use that as rationale for ice cream. Today was maybe a pass. Pizza always feels like a fail no matter what you coax them into eating with it.
• Minimize sugar. This, of course, ties into eating well. However, with Anna and now Caleb, it is a category in its own right. Those two devote more energy to negotiating for treats than I would have thought possible. They wear you down. It's never ending. I've gone from being somewhat indifferent about junk food to actually hating it, if only because it's the thing that is most discussed in my whole life. I feel particularly weak as a parent in this category. I have friends whose children have never had refined sugar cross their lips and some of the kids are nearly in kindergarten. 
• Today: a handful of sour candies and Twizzlers and one fruit leather each.  Complete success as long as you remove from your memory that they had pizza for dinner. And, I promise you, we discussed other treats extensively, including what and when they will be eating them tomorrow.
• Teaching and creative out letting. This has been dropped from my list of measurable objectives this time around. It was loosely based on those parents who do all sorts of amazing art and creative learning projects with their kids. You know the kind. The ones who manage to pull together bowls of different textures (rice and flour and sand and cat food or whatever) and the kids just spend time "exploring"... or the kids get time to assemble a dinosaur that's been pre-cut by mum or dad--the glue sticks out, armed with glitter pens and bobbly eyes (where the hell do you get those things?) and pieces of fabric cut out from old clothes salvaged from a trip to the Sally Anne. The other parent comes home and the 2 year old has made their own "That's Not My Dinosaur" book. Well I'm crap at it. Let's face it, if I had to make my own book out of materials salvaged from the recycling bin, it's going to look like a some kid in pre-school did it. Anna is already much better at anything like this than I will ever be. Caleb is only sort of into it and Eva is a third child, so seems bound to skip all sorts of stages anyway. Might as well skip creative out letting that your dad is rubbish at anyway. I read to my kids. I try to teach them things I know about, like riding a bike or kicking or throwing a ball. Maybe we'll build a birdhouse this week. Or maybe not. We can assume I will largely fail at this nearly every day so don't need to bring it up each day.
• Getting something 'non-kid' done. This was pretty random the first time around, but I believe my standards have dropped here too. I gave examples like throwing in a load of laundry or washing the dishes. It may feel like a bonus, but actually it is a necessity. I will also add going to washroom in peace and having a glass of scotch to this list. Hell, I've got another kid, the bar has been lowered. 
• Today: Three lunches made. Dishes washed. Load of laundry in. Kitchen swept. Plants watered. Scotch poured and I will get that visit to the loo in peace as long as Eva sleeps... something she's particularly good at.... so, Success.

In fairness, Ange left at midday today, so today's only a half day. But I've still pulled it off.

Proof of sleeping child before 11pm. Anna is the most unlikely to sleep too. 

Dill Pickles

Today was customer appreciation day at Safeway. Every first Tuesday of the month, Safeway extends an olive branch to loyal customers (and any other customers that happen upon the store that day) by offering them 10% off or 10x the Airmiles on their purchase. The net result of Safeway Customer Appreciation Day is that I use the opportunity to buy things that either I don't need (because I wasn't paying attention and bought them two days previously) or that I could practically get cheaper at Costco, even with the 10% off.

Their ploy to rope people in is clearly directed at individuals like myself. Individuals who, when walking the aisles of Safeway, feel the need to seize the moment of this extraordinary savings event to purchase condiments, junk food, overpriced cheeses, and pickles. I can rationalize that this savings event is neither extraordinary (only 10% off) nor particularly rare (monthly). Yet, I am invariably compelled to buy more ketchup. We have ketchup. The posh cheese already in the fridge requires sections of mould to be cut off before one can eat it already. And yet I buy more. I kick myself for eating those confounded Bits & Bites, but not only are they 10% off, but there's a two-for-a-special-price deal on. I buy more.

The pickles. Well, I avoided buying pickles today. I bought the much more consumable cousin, the cucumber. Thankfully, no more pickles. Still, the pickles haunt me. All the new refridgeration-required food needed a place on arrival home. I was about half-way through this process of positioning the new food next to the old food in our entirely reasonably-sized fridge that my spacial awareness kicked in. It clearly was not going to fit seamlessly. Rearrangement started in earnest. Packages of this and that were removed and placed on the counter. Left-overs in their precariously stackable containers were removed and placed on the counter. Milk was removed and placed on the counter. Anna was convinced that she was thirsty and given a pint of orange juice so that the large container that once held it could be culled. Despite plans for a meal of fresh food, left-overs were bumped up the priority chart and served for dinner. And, after much re-packing, it all fit.

In my moment of smug organizational satisfaction, I turned around to find the large dill pickle jar staring me in the face. Seriously? Where the hell are these going to fit? I open the door and just stare. I go to move the margarine but am suddenly confronted by the potential knock-on effect of such a brash move. I hesitate. The permutation and combinations are too vast to thoughtfully consider. Perhaps I could move the impossibly large ketchup squeeze bottle? No. Whilst not loved by us parents, its frequent use by the kids and diminishing contents means it has to sit upside down and it has been balanced between the sour cream and the humous. I am keenly aware that I now have new ketchup, but it remains sealed and doesn't require refrigeration just yet.

I am left with few options and consider the fate of the pickles. No one but me actually eats them. I don't particularly like them. In fact, these ones were bought some time ago. There's no obvious best before date, but I consider whether I would even eat them at this point without giving serious consideration to their suitability for consumption. Can you just throw out a nearly full bottle of pickles though? It doesn't seem right.

"Who eats pickles anyway?" I find myself asking. My step-dad does. He really likes them. In fact, he's probably responsible for the few that have been eaten. They get pulled out at every BBQ to be overlooked by everyone but Opa (Rick, my stepdad). Indeed, I recall as a teenager a pickle incident. Being what I believe to be a typical teenage boy, I would often eat vast amounts of food. I didn't often bother with the niceties of preparation and, on many occasions, would consume large amounts of single items for the simple ease of having to only deal with one set of packaging. On one occasion, I reached for the pickles. Rick got unreasonably upset (or so I felt) over the rather sudden disappearance of what he must have assumed were his personal jar of pickles (being that it was basically only him that ate them). Being a parent and having a great deal more perspective now, I look back and realize that Rick was probably saying, "Why don't you clean up after yourself, you lazy SOB?" or "why the hell can't you help out more around the house?" or "did you seriously just spend the little bit of money you make on beer and CDs?" But Rick's string is too long and his generosity nearly without bounds, so in the end, I got mildly chewed out for cleaning the house out of pickles.

In true teenage fashion, I chose to remember it. The irony is that now I shake my head at myself for feeling indignant. So, 25 years later, the jar of possibly off Bick's pickles cannot be thrown out, if only so I can offer one to Rick at the next BBQ. I determine that they can be delicately balanced on top of the two, stacked egg cartons and just fit under the light. It's not a perfect solution, but we'll have omelettes or scrambled eggs tomorrow morning and see if we can't reduce that to a single carton stack.

Gratuitous Eva photo. Fan of many things, but not pickles.