Sometimes it takes me a while to master the obvious. It's probably because I tend to ignore things unless or until they impact my life in some way, shape or form.. It's a truism that when something has an impact on our lives, whether positively or negatively, it is only at that point do many of us take notice. As I said, I've been slow on the uptake a few times in my life. Thankfully, there are loved ones around who have helped to keep me grounded and have been more than willing to give me a "duff in the arse" whenever I have needed it most. Perhaps I'm being a little hard on myself. I'm not stund all of the time, just some of it. (And yes, that is the correct spelling of "stund", at least here in Newfoundland. To spell it as "stunned" would be....., well, stund!)
My one shining example of an event that impacted my life was when babies arrived in our household around 12 and 10 years ago. I was at an extremely busy point of my policing career. I was spearheading a new program for the RCMP in Ontario and was partnered with two drug sniffing dogs, Bandit and Max. These Labs were with me 24-7. Their ability to perform well was solely my responsibility and one that I took seriously. There was no down time and no relaxing weekends with family and friends as there was always exercise needed for the dogs, obedience sessions or drug detection training to undertake. That is not to mention the after hours call outs to help combat crime and the hundreds of demonstrations my furry partners and I did for just about every conceivable kids' group, school and charitable organization within hailing distance. Oh yeah, I also punched a regular forty hour work week sniffing around Toronto International Airport..
I had an inkling that life as I knew it was about to change when the kids arrived. It was just the wrong inkling. I erroneously figured life was about to get a little easier, at least for a while. After all, Lynda would be off on maternity leave. For a year after each of the kids were born she would be home all day. No longer would she have to leave the house so early each weekday morning to beat the insufferable rush hour traffic as she and the rest of the suburbanites made their way from Burlington to Mississauga, only to repeat the process to get home each evening. With so much more free time, Lynda would be able to cook, clean and be the perfect mother to our children (and to me!). Surely a hot breakfast awaited me each morning. The added bonus was that I would have all of this extra time to devote to my job and passion, which was playing..... I mean working with my detector dogs.
Reality turned out to be vastly different from the world I had envisioned. Who knew that a new mom actually sleeps very little and she even has to get up a couple of times a night to feed the baby? I had encouraged Lynda to breastfeed. It seemed like the perfect situation - free food and a delivery system that didn't involve me so I would sleep soundly and be well rested for work the next day. Plus it provided a chance for Lynda to bond with the kids, which was important because I wouldn't be home too much because I planned to spend more time perfecting my craft as a dog handler and making the streets safer for my children. I was the one making the big sacrifice in the relationship. Right? Wrong again. Another duff in the arse for me.
On the breastfeeding issue, my advice to new dads or those of you who will be a daddy sometime in the future is simple. Listen to your partner - she will have already researched this to death and have spoken with her mother, sisters, and girlfriends, so you have nothing important to add; look her in the eye and nod a lot when she talks to you about her position on whether or not to breastfeed; whatever feeding choice you make as a couple, tell her that it's the best one for your child (and tell her that again and again); lastly, watch and help out as much as you can. Watching and holding your baby are two of life's simple and most joyous pleasures. Even I figured that one out before it was too late.
So when did the light come on entirely for me? When did I finally realize that Lynda, Kendall and Avery were better off having a husband and father at home rather than a workaholic, slave to the man, poop scooping, dog loving, public servant who called his mobile dog pen home? Perhaps it was 10 years ago, soon after Avery was born? That was when I resigned as a dog handler and turned my dogs over to officers who I hoped would care about them as much as I had. Perhaps it was four years ago when I realized that even though I no longer had a dog for a partner, I was spending even more time on the trail of the scoundrels who use the drug trade and the human weakness that supports it as a means to line their pockets with material riches? Or maybe it was two years ago when I finally left my policing career? The oath I took 23 years ago and the weight of the badge I carried in my wallet were lifted from my shoulders when I finally retired. In the subsequent two years I have continued to "untrain" myself from looking at everyone and everything from a policeman's perspective. It's work-in-progress, but it sure is liberating.
I guess the true answer is I'm still learning to be the best husband and father I can be. I am so lucky to have an understanding partner (the two legged variety) and awesome kids. I'd be the first to fully understand if ever one, or all of them, comes up to me and says "Daddy, why were you so stund for all those years?" and then proceeds to give me a good duff in the arse. I earned it.
Monday, September 24, 2012
Friday, September 21, 2012
Silent But Deadly
How do you know when you have a rock solid relationship? What's the one thing that tells you that your friendship can endure when times are tough? It's not a thoughtful gift, a kind word or gesture, and it's not even making huge personal sacrifices to help out your BFF in his or her time of need. The answer may surprise, but when you read further and reflect on what I have to say, I suspect that you'll be nodding to yourself in agreement. Each of you will have (hopefully) experienced this phenomena, likely many times over. If you haven't, then get off your high horse and join the real world. It's time to smell the roses. I'll use a couple of examples to illustrate my point.
A few days ago, my daughter, 10 year old Avery, had two of her friends over to the house for a play date. Her friends are sweethearts. They are polite, thoughtful and fun. As much as Avery enjoys their company, Lynda and I also love their visits and the way house comes to life with their innocence of youth. I happened to be walk down the hallway on my way to the laundry room and passed the bathroom and its open door. Well, the invisible cloud of poop odour almost floored me. The fan was on, the window open, but neither seemed to be having the needed effect. It was the type of odour that is so offensive that it leaves a taste in your mouth. You probably get the idea! I proceeded to my daughter's bedroom, where the kids were playing. I asked which one just went to the bathroom? Avery and friend #1 quickly responded that they had not, while friend #2 was silent. I looked at her and said "Wow, that was some poo!" She turned a bright shade of red and nodded sheepishly. "Good one." I said and headed back to the living room, although at a quicker pace as I traversed the hallway and the still lingering invisible cloud. I wouldn't give such high praise to anyone that I didn't truly like. I was also elated that friend #2 felt comfortable enough in our home to do #2. She is welcome any time. The only thing I'll need to do is to teach her how to light a match!
Lynda is my life partner, best friend, confidante, lover........Once again, you get the idea. Well, it was probably several years into our relationship before I knew with 100% certainty that she could fart. I suspected that she knew how and likely let'em rip with the best of them. It's just that I never heard evidence to say that she did, nor did I get a sniff or taste of any of her bombs. Then it happened. One day, right out of the blue, my girl told me that she was mine forever and she did it without speaking a word. With a simple toot, followed by a meek "excuse me", our relationship was forever solidified. As a guy, I had been letting them go since day one of our relationship, but to have the fairer sex join the dark side is really the pinnacle of relationship building.
So there you have it. The pivotal "tell", that one clue that tells you that you are liked is as simple as understanding that people poop and people pass gas. Maybe that's why flatulate sounds so much like infatuate. So please, don't hold back.
I have one final word of caution for you ladies. Your man may be so overcome by your show of affection that he may feel the need to reply in kind. It's sort of our way to say that we get the love message that you've laid on us. Here's what you can expect: it's known as a Dutch Oven and it's performed when a couple is in bed together. The guy flatulates and at the same time raises the blankets over the head of his chosen one, thereby letting her enjoy the full effect of his inner aroma. What can be more romantic! My last piece of advice to you ladies is do not....DO NOT try to light a match while inside the Dutch Oven. It's a very bad way to ignite a relationship.
A few days ago, my daughter, 10 year old Avery, had two of her friends over to the house for a play date. Her friends are sweethearts. They are polite, thoughtful and fun. As much as Avery enjoys their company, Lynda and I also love their visits and the way house comes to life with their innocence of youth. I happened to be walk down the hallway on my way to the laundry room and passed the bathroom and its open door. Well, the invisible cloud of poop odour almost floored me. The fan was on, the window open, but neither seemed to be having the needed effect. It was the type of odour that is so offensive that it leaves a taste in your mouth. You probably get the idea! I proceeded to my daughter's bedroom, where the kids were playing. I asked which one just went to the bathroom? Avery and friend #1 quickly responded that they had not, while friend #2 was silent. I looked at her and said "Wow, that was some poo!" She turned a bright shade of red and nodded sheepishly. "Good one." I said and headed back to the living room, although at a quicker pace as I traversed the hallway and the still lingering invisible cloud. I wouldn't give such high praise to anyone that I didn't truly like. I was also elated that friend #2 felt comfortable enough in our home to do #2. She is welcome any time. The only thing I'll need to do is to teach her how to light a match!
Lynda is my life partner, best friend, confidante, lover........Once again, you get the idea. Well, it was probably several years into our relationship before I knew with 100% certainty that she could fart. I suspected that she knew how and likely let'em rip with the best of them. It's just that I never heard evidence to say that she did, nor did I get a sniff or taste of any of her bombs. Then it happened. One day, right out of the blue, my girl told me that she was mine forever and she did it without speaking a word. With a simple toot, followed by a meek "excuse me", our relationship was forever solidified. As a guy, I had been letting them go since day one of our relationship, but to have the fairer sex join the dark side is really the pinnacle of relationship building.
So there you have it. The pivotal "tell", that one clue that tells you that you are liked is as simple as understanding that people poop and people pass gas. Maybe that's why flatulate sounds so much like infatuate. So please, don't hold back.
I have one final word of caution for you ladies. Your man may be so overcome by your show of affection that he may feel the need to reply in kind. It's sort of our way to say that we get the love message that you've laid on us. Here's what you can expect: it's known as a Dutch Oven and it's performed when a couple is in bed together. The guy flatulates and at the same time raises the blankets over the head of his chosen one, thereby letting her enjoy the full effect of his inner aroma. What can be more romantic! My last piece of advice to you ladies is do not....DO NOT try to light a match while inside the Dutch Oven. It's a very bad way to ignite a relationship.
Tuesday, August 07, 2012
Throw Those Ones Back
It's early August, the height of summer holidays. It's the time when families venture off to their favourite places to soak up the sunlight that is fading more with each passing day and to bask in the glow of what it means to be loved. Or maybe these trips are exercises to keep the kids from killing each other (or from you killing them) because you've all spent more "quality time" together in the the last six weeks than you did from September to June. A trip may be just the thing to get the family over that last hurdle before that elusive finish line, often referred to as the start of the new school year.
Here are a few thoughts that are swirling around this stay-at-home dad's head. I hope this collection brightens your day - sort of like an ice pack on a twisted ankle or perhaps something more preventative, such as applying a band-aid to cover your nipples before setting off on a marathon-like run or that brisk walk with your neighbour and chatting partner.
The Summer Olympics are presently taking place in London. Lots of great athletes, all of whom are dedicated beyond belief. To be at the Games requires talent, skill, some luck, but mostly it requires a Herculean commitment. I admire all of these people for that. Have you ever noticed that with every victory or defeat each athlete has someone close by who shares in the glory or the tears. So many people seem to go unnoticed and they all seem okay with that. Road bikers have entourages following them through the streets in cars packed with replacement parts; those inside bikers, who go around the roller derby looking track, have coaches who push them to the starting line and hold them up so they don't fall over because their feet are welded to the pedals; weight lifters always seem to be escorted to the platform by five or six people, as if their presence will somehow help get that 500 pounds high into the air.
I recently volunteered at my daughter's swim meet that was held in Halifax. Part of my role as a chaperon was to help provide healthy snacks for the swimmers. Often, before the athletes woke up or after lights out at night, my fellow chaperones and I worked diligently behind the scenes cutting up fruit and vegetables to ensure that the swimmers would be nourished and on top of their games. It wasn't the Olympics, but it gave me a taste of the amount of effort and dedication that is required by so many before any serious athlete is even able to compete. My hat is off to all of you and thanks for the gold medal performances.
The recreational cod fishery is on the go and I've been out jiggin' like an Olympian. Brother Bill has a nicely outfitted boat for such an adventure and doesn't mind that I borrow it often. His 3 year old son, James, seems to have a different take on my taking. Whenever I arrive with my truck and hook up the boat that sits in Bill's driveway, James shouts to anyone within a square kilometre that "Uncle Jim is taking daddy's ship again!" The fish are plentiful, the weather has been unbelievable, the humpback whales entertaining and the views spectacular. Young James is just going have to get used to the idea that I'm going to continue to steal his daddy's boat - over and over again.
One more note on ocean fishing. At the bottom lurks a devilish looking fish known as a Sculpin. Perhaps it more resembles a dragon that a devil, but you get the picture. Sometimes it will swallow our hook and take the long ride from the darkness of the sea bottom to the deck of the boat. These things are certainly not "keepers" and readily find there way back into the water once someone gathers the nerve to grab their thorny bodies to remove the hook. I've taken my kids and several of their friends out this week. It has been pure joy to watch their faces as they reel in a cod that can be almost half their size. It's even more fun to watch them whenever they come eye to eye with the nefarious Sculpin. Cod and whales must be deaf because the screams from boys and girls alike have been simply world class. Thankfully, they haven't been scared off.
My sister arrives later today from her home in Ontario. She lives in Milton, which is where I worked for several years. She moved to Ontario from Alberta just a few months after I moved back to Newfoundland. I'm still wondering about that one! Her two girls are similar in age to my kids and they all get along wonderfully. I'm sure my sister, Margaret Ann, is looking forward to visiting old friends and reacquainting herself with Newfoundland. She'll take my car and my family will entertain her kids for the next few weeks. It'll be great, but I'm guessing I'll have to remind her to take her kids with her when she's leaving to go back to Ontario. It's not that she doesn't love them tremendously, it's just that she's a teacher and they've spent each and every day together since school got out in June. After that much time together, even our own precious kids kind of start looking a little sculpin-ish.
Enjoy the rest of the summer.
Here are a few thoughts that are swirling around this stay-at-home dad's head. I hope this collection brightens your day - sort of like an ice pack on a twisted ankle or perhaps something more preventative, such as applying a band-aid to cover your nipples before setting off on a marathon-like run or that brisk walk with your neighbour and chatting partner.
The Summer Olympics are presently taking place in London. Lots of great athletes, all of whom are dedicated beyond belief. To be at the Games requires talent, skill, some luck, but mostly it requires a Herculean commitment. I admire all of these people for that. Have you ever noticed that with every victory or defeat each athlete has someone close by who shares in the glory or the tears. So many people seem to go unnoticed and they all seem okay with that. Road bikers have entourages following them through the streets in cars packed with replacement parts; those inside bikers, who go around the roller derby looking track, have coaches who push them to the starting line and hold them up so they don't fall over because their feet are welded to the pedals; weight lifters always seem to be escorted to the platform by five or six people, as if their presence will somehow help get that 500 pounds high into the air.
I recently volunteered at my daughter's swim meet that was held in Halifax. Part of my role as a chaperon was to help provide healthy snacks for the swimmers. Often, before the athletes woke up or after lights out at night, my fellow chaperones and I worked diligently behind the scenes cutting up fruit and vegetables to ensure that the swimmers would be nourished and on top of their games. It wasn't the Olympics, but it gave me a taste of the amount of effort and dedication that is required by so many before any serious athlete is even able to compete. My hat is off to all of you and thanks for the gold medal performances.
The recreational cod fishery is on the go and I've been out jiggin' like an Olympian. Brother Bill has a nicely outfitted boat for such an adventure and doesn't mind that I borrow it often. His 3 year old son, James, seems to have a different take on my taking. Whenever I arrive with my truck and hook up the boat that sits in Bill's driveway, James shouts to anyone within a square kilometre that "Uncle Jim is taking daddy's ship again!" The fish are plentiful, the weather has been unbelievable, the humpback whales entertaining and the views spectacular. Young James is just going have to get used to the idea that I'm going to continue to steal his daddy's boat - over and over again.
One more note on ocean fishing. At the bottom lurks a devilish looking fish known as a Sculpin. Perhaps it more resembles a dragon that a devil, but you get the picture. Sometimes it will swallow our hook and take the long ride from the darkness of the sea bottom to the deck of the boat. These things are certainly not "keepers" and readily find there way back into the water once someone gathers the nerve to grab their thorny bodies to remove the hook. I've taken my kids and several of their friends out this week. It has been pure joy to watch their faces as they reel in a cod that can be almost half their size. It's even more fun to watch them whenever they come eye to eye with the nefarious Sculpin. Cod and whales must be deaf because the screams from boys and girls alike have been simply world class. Thankfully, they haven't been scared off.
My sister arrives later today from her home in Ontario. She lives in Milton, which is where I worked for several years. She moved to Ontario from Alberta just a few months after I moved back to Newfoundland. I'm still wondering about that one! Her two girls are similar in age to my kids and they all get along wonderfully. I'm sure my sister, Margaret Ann, is looking forward to visiting old friends and reacquainting herself with Newfoundland. She'll take my car and my family will entertain her kids for the next few weeks. It'll be great, but I'm guessing I'll have to remind her to take her kids with her when she's leaving to go back to Ontario. It's not that she doesn't love them tremendously, it's just that she's a teacher and they've spent each and every day together since school got out in June. After that much time together, even our own precious kids kind of start looking a little sculpin-ish.
Enjoy the rest of the summer.
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