A Trip to the Museum

It is easy to fall into ruts when exposing your child to things. In our instance, Gabriel has been quite happy to sit on a curb and watch construction and excavation equipment at work and gawk in wonder at the noise and quick accomplishment of those heavy machines.  He is always eager to plunk down in front of the television for a while and zone out as well.

Music classes, gymnastics and soccer have stretched him out and broadened his horizons, but that the same time we have made sure that we have not over-scheduled him (or ourselves) to the extent that raising him becomes a matter of scheduling and logistics rather than on going spontaneous interaction where he can let us know what his interests and talents are.

The trucks regularly capture his attention and his talent for spotting them is preternatural.  We have regularly exposed him to all kinds of music and I'm not sure if he has taken any interest in the jazz that I've tried to slip past him but he has a sharp knack for singing along and identifying what he's listening to.  He has been to plays on a regular basis and there have been other efforts made to get him out and exposed to new things.

When we have been on holidays, we've seized the opportunities to take him to aquariums and have struggled to find the right time or age to engage him in the exhibits there.  When he was two he just wanted to splash around in the contact pools and when we took him again at age three he did not take as much interest the second time around. (I did, however, enjoy him calling the shark "Bruce" while all the other kids were calling the clownfish "Nemo.")  We took him to an outhouse museum in July when we were in Nova Scotia and that kept his attention for a while.

I'm not sure how the outhouse museum ranks amongst other institutions that we could have taken him to, but his first visit to a "real" museum was earlier this week when we headed to Drumheller to visit the Tyrell Museum which is replete with the dinosaur fossils that would hold the attention of many a boy.

Upon arrival at the museum, Gabriel was immediately captivated with the dinosaur sculptures that were between the parking lot and the building.  Once we got in, there were the landmark exhibits with the models of T-Rex's and other dinosaurs that were found in the area, along with the "lesser" dinosaurs from the badlands of Alberta.  He managed to keep his attention on the exhibits that were around.  There were a few interactive pieces int he museum that he did not have a knack for figuring out the proper use of but he found his way with the other exhibits that more closely resembled the dinosaurs he had expected to see - alive and active at the museum.  To that extend the animatronic dinosaurs at the Calgary Zoo may have been more appealing to him.  He enjoyed the exhibits, I think. He scampered around the museum, following the intended path as well as he could though he ran much more than he wanted to walk.

He seemed intrigued by the exhibits throughout the museum, but for a near-4 year old the quick progression through the museum was likely enough for him.  We got out and we even managed to get him out of the gift shop without incident.  It may have been more of a rite of passage for my wife and I than it was for him, but it will likely be something that we check in on as we revisit the topics of dinosaurs and museums in the time ahead.  We will likely be back at the Tyrell in a few years and we will try to gauge his memories of the place when the subject of dinosaurs comes up again in the future.  There will be other museums as time goes along and they will be age appropriate for the next few years as well.

The Making of a Dad Band

One of my outlets on a regular basis has been to get together with a few friends to play guitar.  We actually started playing together 11 1/2 years ago, a mark that certainly gives me pause about how quickly time has passed since we first started gathering in the basement apartment I was in at the time. We had religiously stuck with the routine every week on Thursday nights. over the course of that time, doctorates were completed, musical trends came and went and I slowly discovered 1990's alternative rock, which I had essentially missed due to my travels or only discovered via the back door route of covers played by jazz pianist Brad Mehldau.

Those evenings were simple affairs.  We'd unpack, play our first three songs and order pizza that we could normally count on having in another 30 minutes or so. There were musical discoveries, challenges that would turn into benchmarks of progress as we found a way to master them, rules about forbidden groups or songs. I still, after all this time, refuse to waive my Eagles veto.

We have seen our circle expand and contract over that course of time and we are at a solid core of three despite our open door to additional dad-players, especially those with drums or a bass. Obligations expanded as one of our trio became a Dad. He furtively missed a Thursday while he was getting acquainted with his daughter. A few months later twin daughters arrived for the most talented of our trio.

The weekly ritual disappeared with those demands but we are working our way back into a routine of at least a month. Those night continue to be blessed with as much conversation as ever, but the talk turns to the kids where it once turned to music trivia and whether or not our mention of certain musicians at certain times coincided with their deaths.  I assure you we have never played Boney M and probably only mentioned them in reference to their contribution to the Christmas muzak we had grown familiar with.

The nights are less frequent and the pizzas even less so. Guitar is now on Fridays instead of Thursdays and there is a dram of scotch rather than a 2 litre bottle of soda water, which we named "flavourless" in mild self-deprecation of the pop we played as well. Over the years the conversation has continued to be good as we have marvelled at the achievements of those we have played, occasionally cursed the slow wheels on the studio recorders the Beatles used, made copious references to The Big Lebowski, Spinal Tap and Christopher Walken's seminal appearance on SNL.

Those things are balm and magnet that keeps us together as regularly as we come together every couple of weeks. We muse occasionally about performing for an audience and conclude that it will most likely be at a birthday party. If that is the case, we will have to hurry up and do it while we are still cool to the kids. It amy be nothing more than a distant goal and one that would require a bit more work that our intermittent meetings might allow. There may be an unplumbed symbiosis that we would unwittingly draw upon, or a sense that the stakes playing without a net would be minimal or minor compared with other things that we have grappled with over the last decade and change.

The one thing we all share is a desire to pass the baton on to the kids, especially if any of them take up an interest in bass or percussion and share our fondness for Crowded House, Talking Heads or R.E.M.  All of the kids are exposed to music in various ways and taking lessons and their progress probably give us more pride than any progress we make with more esoteric chord progressions that were beyond us when we all began.

Street-proofing the Extroverted Child

It was evident from very early that my son was going to be an extrovert. I can cite several occasions where he has "worked the room" like a campaigning politician out on the hustings while my wife I and fell consigned to the background. We look on in wonder while we try to assess everyone else's tolerance for this three-year-old who can be remarkably charming when he wants to get to know people. My wife can cite occasions where trips to the zoo involve meeting a fellow tyke, bonding at the penguin plunge and then visiting the rest of the animals and having a bit of lunch over the course of the rest of the day.

It has been the case throughout his life, whether visiting his grandfather in the hospital or starting day care on the cusp of turning one and leaving Dad behind without the least trepidation about being in this room full of unknown kids. In our condominium, he has been introducing himself to everyone since her could say his name.

Earlier this summer, however, he wandered off from his day care group while out on an excursion. It did not surprise us, but we were just as horrified at the possibilities. 

From early on we have been conscious of the need to make him not so trusting and open with people and not expose himself to the risks with strangers, but at the same time we have not wanted to erode his innocence and unduly inhibit him from interacting as freely as he does. He is incredibly open and friendly in most situations with people of all ages and we do not wish to deny him that aspect of his personality. There are risks in him walking up to that stranger that we would most likely prefer to keep him away from, but at the same time he may also be building a pool of people who would recognize him and look twice if they saw him with an adult other than my wife or I.

I believed that he has the confidence with people that would make him a harder target. He is likelier to be at the centre of a group of friends rather than the periphery and in need of being at the centre. In our condominium he has incidentally built a network of vigilant eyes who know him well enough to get suspicious if he is not with us. That was the case with him wandering off from his daycare group, but that is a consequence of the safeguards that are part of the routines and procedures at the daycare. In our condominium, where he knows half the puppies in the building and most of the adults who are on our floor there is a sense that there are people who know him and recognize him and us well enough to know when something is awry if he is in the wrong company. But that network has not been tested and we do not wish test it.

We can not be certain that he will always be that confident with his friends and that he will not make himself vulnerable by seeking the attention or friendship of strangers who may be waiting for such an opportunity to pose a threat to him. There have been times when his attempts to strike up a friendship or a brief period of companionship at the playground do not succeed and he is at a loss for what to do on his own while other kids play together or simply go home with their parents.

We have tried nudging the matter of caution with strangers onto his radar with various children's books that attempt to address the issue and the best of the bunch is still "Little Red Riding Hood." (There is a version populated by trucks instead of wolves and girls but that is too cringeworthy.) Other books on the theme strike me as too didactic to hit the mark in the memorable but carefree way I think is required. My wife and I seize our teachable moments as well with the emphasis on generalization rather than "stay away from her," but there is no certainty that the objective of this lesson is ever achieved. I heard from a mother a few weeks ago that there was a test with children on how they would behave with a potential lurer or children predator. The test showed that despite the training and safe words that parents drill their kids on, they are still prone to being tempted into danger. (Damn puppies!)

There is the hope that there will be something about my son's extroversion - whether his confidence with strangers or his ability to make friends - that would make lurers more reluctant to fix on him, but I know that is mere wishful thinking. A parent's hope is not enough and we can only hope that the daily routine imparts some caution to him over time and keeps it rooted there without making him more frightened that he ought to be. Open, but cautious.

Dad On Duty

A few months after Gabriel was born, I was able to attend a New Dads course. At this point, 3 1/2 years after the fact, I can't recall if it was two or three sessions but I can remember those of us who chose to converge being representative of a new generation of men, whatever that might be. We caught and corrected ourselves when we risked talking about babysitting our children. Others in the group bristled with the tension and challenge that came with fatherhood and in some there were hints of baggage that would cause or had already caused difficulty and left some overmatched for the task of being open and vulnerable to their prime vocation.

I have been capable of talking or writing a good game when it comes to being a father, but there are, granted, times where patience runs thin and there is a reversion to whatever offers expedience or an easy response.  In those moments where I'm losing my temper or just cutting corners to get out the door or the like I feel like the laggard of the partnership. For example:

When brushing teeth during the bedtime routine, I more often than not forget to wash his hands and face.  Same thing with sunscreen when heading out for the day.

Last week, I left a developmental screening report from his daycare in my backpack neglected long enough to become a sopping wad in the torrential rains that fell last Friday. A great "my dog ate it" variant.

I've let him stand instead of sit. (Discuss in your groups.)

I often forget his water bottle when heading out and have to buy him bottled stuff en route.

I mix up his indoor and outdoor shoes at daycare and bring him home in the wrong pair.

I had refrained from slathering every part of his zone with cream before sealing up his diaper.  I also preferred the pull-ups over the tape tabs even though I recall practicing with pins and cloth in the 1980s when I took a babysitting course and was willing to go the cloth route for the first few weeks of his life until I was overruled in favour of more sleep.

I occasionally rush ahead a step or two on a Lego project when his attention has drifted instead of trying to recapture it or setting things aside. I mean, c'mon, it's Lego!

I skip entire pages rather than mere adverbs in his books when it is time for him to nod off and he is adamant about his quota before turning in.

I've laughed when I shouldn't such as the time that he squeezed a bottle of ketchup and geisered a wad of the red stuff onto his shirt, his hair and myself.

Those little things out of each week or day or hour leave me conscious about the opportunities that are constantly available to me and leave me convinced that I'm the second-stringer or the laggard in the task of raising Gabriel.  I wonder if I have taken the verb "father" more literally than I care to admit.  "Father" doesn't have the long term connotations that the verb "mother" does and perhaps there is something wired in me, despite my better intentions, that prompts me to slack off or become reluctant to put on the original Disney score that he prefers when my jazz is playing.

I do, however, remind him to look someone in the eye when he says, hello, thank you, good bye or sorry.  I stroke his forehead or rest a hand on his stomach when he is too restless to find sleep and I get the chance to tuck him in or settle him down.  I've gently pointed out the proper use of "because" and "so" which he has mixed up regular in phrases such as, "It's raining because I'm wearing boots." I've even tried to work a second language into his head by practicing Japanese and a bit of French with him.

Perhaps it all stems from being the first one to leave the house after he arrived and in the nearly four years since he was born, starting with that rush to the pharmacy to get some formula while we were still waiting for the milk to come in.  In that time there have been so many moments that I have missed out on, things I have only heard afterward, secondhand.  I have not been synched with his every need the way that my wife has whether it is from the moment of his arrival or going back to the closer synchronization that they once shared.

Regardless of the cause, when I am on duty alone there always seems to be an error or two or an oversight to make me self-conscious. My wife assures me that there isn't a wrong way and that is a brief bit of balm. Last week, though, when I had full on Dad duty to put Gabriel down for the night, he was finally signalling it was all right for me to go with the see-saw rhythm of his sleepy breathing. I slipped out of his bed as stealthily as a could and promptly activated the hard rock guitar riffs of one of the toys that did not get put away (by me? by him?) before turning in.  A froze on the spot as a litany of curses went through my head.  I paused to see if I could detect some disturbance in his sleep. On the crest of his snoring he uttered a drowsy, "I love you," and remained asleep.

Whew.

Renaissance and Revelation on the Trail

As the summer of 2015 winds to its end, something harshly portended by a 24-hour cold snap that included freezing temperatures and snow, we took Gabriel for a hike in the mountains.  He had gone on a hike or two around the city on well-worn public trails, but today he took on a 4K hike with a gain in elevation of 250m.

Mum was in her element, having grown in the shadow of the mountains we hiked through and honed her rock climbing skills at the place where we peaked for the day.

She has regularly promised him that she will take him to Nepal and he in turn has promised to take her to Madagascar.  (I am not certain if it is the real one or the animated version he has in mind, but he has been earnest each time he has made the promise.) As we ascended the trail, Mum opted for the tougher trail and laid out the courtesies and the strategies of the hiking trails: step between, not on, the roots and rocks that obstruct the way; step aside for the faster hikers and make sure you say, "You're welcome," to those who thank you; to roll a needle between your fingertips and know that it is from a spruce by square edges make the roll rough.

I could see a long-dormant side of my wife resurfacing as she had a chance to initiate Gabriel into a long-held passion that she has set aside over (at least) the last four years and is now getting the opportunity to share the fundamentals of.  Whether or not he takes up this passion to the same extent that his mother has, it is a thrill to see that side of Mum emerge for him and flesh out one of the main characters in his life while she rekindles a spark that has idled for too long. He will see her, eventually, as more than just a provider and healer but as someone who has lived with this particular passion: to hike, to climb, to travel and so many other things that he still does not know about her. Perhaps there is knowledge of this in him already, aspects of her that will resonate and possess a trace of deja vu in a story she will tell about her achievements or hard-earned scrapes on rock-face.

He climbed his first big climb easily and with more enthusiasm than fatigue.  When we got to the top he was preoccupied with dogs that had made it to the top, but he did take note of the rock climbers who ascended by the toeholds that took them even higher than we went.  He confessed to preferring the hike down, despite the utilitarian scenery of an old fire road setting the background instead of the rock staircases and the approaching roar of waterfalls. Don't we all, though?

More importantly, Mum is already eager to get the next hike in sooner than later and is sorting through the terrain of the mountains and parks that formed the backyard of her youth and the landscape of her imagination. One thing that seems possible or even evident as Gabriel closes in on age four, is that we will be sharing more of ourselves on ventures such as this. It will be good to show more of ourselves to him as time goes on.

Mom and Dad Dare to Get a Babysitter

Letting ourselves out of the house, as adults, sans Dude, took us some time.  After a few months of having the memory of the clunker of a movie Tower Heist and an indulgent trip to Five Guys as our last "date," just hours before Nadine conceded we ought to go to the hospital just to see if everything was okay, we let ourselves go out for an evening to see the Blue Man Group.  The tickets were purchased long before Gabriel was born and it was the night of or night before my birthday.

Gabriel has been a low maintenance little guy almost straight out of the gate, but we still felt reluctant to not so much trust him with anyone as to ask for the favour or impose on anyone who dared to offer.  Even so, we settled on asking close friends first rather than asking one lone teenager to take him on. We basically enlisted a team: mother, father and their then 4-year-old who had been doting on him since his arrival and may have been ready to shoo her parents home to take over.  Instead, her parents shooed us out before we could complete our eighth utterance of the double checking, "Any questions?", with the assurance that they'd babysat before, or something like it and that Gabriel was in good hands.  We reviewed all of the things that might occur and reiterated our desired turn in routine and time as we retreated.

We trotted off to see Blue Man Group at a theatre that was a 12-minute walk away from home.  I'm still not sure if we would have let ourselves out that night if it was a 20-minute walk or drive.  We sat and never really allowed ourselves to acknowledge or enjoy the fact that we were out for the night. For the first part of the evening my cell phone sat on my thigh and kept glancing at it on a constant basis.  Eventually, the show grabbed a bit more of my attention, but (no offence intended) I never quite got fully immersed in the program.

We returned home after 2 hours and 23 minutes of entertainment, walk there and sprint back to find that the dude was sleeping as he was intended, but that the routine we had requested had not been followed to the letter.  Our "sitters" varied the routine as they were comfortable with and Gabriel responded well and, much to our surprise, was not thrown off kilter by the variation. There was, it seemed, even a broadening of horizons after the 4 1/2 months of being locked into the patterns that my wife and I established for ourselves.

It was not only good for us to get out, but it was good to realize that we did not need to be spot-welded to our routine.

We are still on our first hand when it comes to counting the times we've left Gabriel with sitters, other than my in-laws, for a night out whether it is dinner, a movie or something else but we are getting a little more daring.  Last week we even arranged to have that competent team of mother, father and now-8-year-old take on the first stage of the babysitting until a teenager - yes a teenager but she has graduated high school and is headed to university in a few weeks - could get to our place after finishing her day job.  We did spend a good part of the night texting to the team and the teen to ensure that the handover went as smoothly as it did and to let her know our ETA at the end of the show and we even allowed ourselves to be out for 5 hours.  We first used our new solo babysitter last October and we plan to use her again in November while we make a 12-minute walk to see a show...

Sleepy Bones

Gabriel was a great sleeper early in life.  While other parents from our prenatal class were quick to cite the sleep they had lost due to feedings and random dark AM crying, we were doing our best not to be conspicuously quiet during those laments.  We'd nod vigorously and add a well-timed, "I hear you," to avoid boasting and express our relief to one another when we were alone.

Those salad days have been long gone and apparently, according to The Walrus we are not alone. We now wake regularly to a cry of some sort from Gabriel as something disturbs his sleep.  There are occasions when he - despite our interventions - rolls out of bed with only a thud (and no howl or cry whatsoever), the soft patter of his bare feet wakes us as he comes down the hall or we stir at 4am to find his form wedged between us and eking out more space.  A recent conversation was something like this:

Nadine: Stop kicking!
Gabriel: I'm stretching.

Whereupon Gabriel is escorted back to his room and slept with until he is asleep again.  Often, Nadine or I fall asleep first and stir an hour or so later and return to our bed.  We have tried to implement a bit more of a routine and get him to stay in bed - quietly - when he wakes up rather than come to our bed or call out to us.  Nadine has come across a plan where she cues Gabriel to be in bed when the 7 is up on his digital clock and stay there until it reappears.  It has worked relatively well in the evenings but asking him to lie still and stare at the clock until the hour turns from 6 or 5 into 7.  As I type, it is 6:39am. He is just stirring now and heading to bed with Nadine.  A decent achievement, but still not enough sleep. We know that this will end eventually, when he is in his teens and the lethargy of growth sucks out all desire to move.

In the meantime though, there is the challenge of getting him to sleep through the night or cope with his interruptions on his own.  There hasn't been much luck.  Last night over dinner we talked to him about staying in bed and staying quiet until 7am, but he replied that he wanted someone to sleep with. Nadine reminded him of the retinue of stuffed animals that he shares his bed with each night and even suggested a rotation if there were new favorites that he preferred amongst, Sully, puppy, Thumper, and everyone else.

He replied, "I want to sleep with someone who has bones inside."