No place like Home

Well, happy Monday.

There are 11 days, six hours and 35 minutes until Mommy comes home. And today we begin the first week, since she left, with nothing on the schedule. Swim lessons are over, so there is no built-in excuse to leave the house; no place to go.

I am considering preschool for Sonwun, which begins either this week or next. I got a phone number from one of the mommies at swimming lessons Friday. She tells me it's a good program and that the leader, or supervisor, is a great lady. I will call her today.

I have mixed feelings about preschool. On the plus side, it will give Sonwun a chance to mingle with munchkins his own age. It will give him a chance, as swimming did, to participate in group activities, learn to share, learn to cooperate, learn to get along.

On the down side, I will be putting my boy into "the system" where I do not have complete control over what he does, what he's taught, what he eats and so on. It's a little unnerving. Not that I believe they plan to feed him chocolate frosted sugar bombs, lead him in a rousing version of Hail Satan and then teach him to make fake Gucci purses for the black market. I believe they save all that for Grade 1.

I'm just not sure I'm ready to let go, even if it is for only a couple of half days a week. I'm not sure I'm ready to just drop him off somewhere and leave. This feeling is aggravated by the fact that I'm in a new city and I don't know anyone. I don't know the kids who will be there, I don't know their parents, I don't know the teachers or their backgrounds or anything. It is very, very difficult to entrust my child to this system, based on one recommendation by a woman I've met three times and don't know from Eve.

All that being said, I will be looking into it. I will take him a few times, probably hang out for a while until he settles in and then make my decision. The other option, and the one I'm more comfortable with, is to wait out the two-week pool closure and then put him back in swimming lessons.

But I know my comfort level isn't what's important here. What is important is Sonwun's social development.

Unfortunately, he does not have what I had growing up. I had a safe neighbourhood, complete with a dozen or so kids around my age. My parents were comfortable opening the door in the morning and sending me out, secure in the knowledge that every parent in the neighbourhood knew who I was and would keep an eye on me. They would be there if I got into trouble; they would snitch on me if I did something I wasn't supposed to do.

We don't have that here. I am only just getting to know my neighbours. But I don't KNOW them. I would not be at all comfortable with them welcoming Sonwun into their homes. In fact, I would probably call the cops if they did.

Once again, it's the RCMP lifestyle. Move to a new town every once in a while, try to adjust, make new friends and find a way to make life as normal (whatever that means) as possible for my kids.

Anyway, it's a new day, a new week and, this morning, I have to take Sontoo in for this 18-month vaccinations. At least it's a start and another excuse to get out of the house.

Cheers.

Salamanders will have to Wait

So the two weeks of intense trials, training, blood, sweat and tears are over. The Sea Turtle swimming lessons have come to an end.

Sonwun did his best to learn all of the Sea Turtle skills: Entries and Exits, Jump into Chest-Deep Water, Front Float and Recovery, Basic Kick on Front and so on. And today was graduation day.

After lessons, the kids were handed their report cards and, well, it's hard for me to say, but Sonwun will remain a Sea Turtle for another round of lessons. He will not advance to Salamander. That crazy Bohemian teacher feels my boy is not ready to be a Salamander. Is she nuts?! I got your Salamander right here, complete with some concrete water wings.

I mean how dare she? I demand a recount. I've never seen anyone grasp the PDF and Me (assisted) skill better than my boy. He's the king of Shallow Water Movement. And Intro to Rhythmic Breathing: Breath Control? He's a natural.

Oh, the humiliation. Sure, he was the youngest in the class. Sure, the other kids have taken it two or three times already. But this is MY BOY. He should be skipping over Salamander and Sunfish and moving right through to Crocodile, all the while deciding which lucrative product endorsement contracts he will sign today.

And as if that wasn't enough, one of the other mothers actually stopped me as I was pulling out of the parking lot. She's never done that before.

"So . . ." she said.

"So what?" I asked.

"How did he do?"

"He's going to do Sea Turtle again," I mumbled.

"Oh, that's too bad. My boy's moving on to Salamander."

"Yeah, well, your boy is fat. And, just between you and me, aren't you a little concerned with the way he's looking at the other boys in the change room? Just something to think about."

Okay, I didn't say it. But I thought it, really hard.

But seriously, I am happy with the way things went. In spite of his effort, and progress, Sonwun is still a little leery about deep water, even when wearing a lifejacket. He's got some work to do before he's ready to hit the rough-and-tumble, cut-throat, dod-eat-dog world of the Salamander.

I know, the most important thing is that he thoroughly enjoyed his time in the pool. Every day, he couldn't wait to put on the swimsuit and hit the water. The teacher did an excellent job with all the kids and I'm looking forward to the next round of lessons and, hopefully, some improvement in the weaker areas as he gains more confidence in the water.

There will be no lessons for the next two weeks, as the annual Norplex pool draining and cleaning will be taking place. So that gives me 14 days to pump him up for a return to Sea Turtles. I've been in contact with a sports psychologist, who has agreed to see Sonwun tonight. But before that, he's got laps to run and then we're off to the weight room. No pain, no gain.

Forgive me . . .

Okay, first things first. I know you've all been wondering, waiting with bated breath . . . 91 per cent of Canada AM "Your Say" respondents believe that the Obama family has a right to privacy on vacation.

Hope you will sleep well tonight, secure in that knowledge. I know I will.

And now back to our regularly scheduled ranting and whining.

Forgive me fathers, for I have sinned. (Note "fathers" is not capitalized. Not sacrilegious, not meant to be. Just meant to be funny. But now that I've had to explain it . . . never mind).

It has been, well, forever, since my last confession. But last night, I gave into temptation, I gave into peer pressure, I gave into Sonwun. And yes, rather than cook a healthy, nutritious, vegetable-filled meal, I loaded the boys into the van and drove to McDonald's. I am a bad father. I fed my children a "Happy Meal."

And it doesn't end there, I'm afraid. I didn't get them the "healthy" one, you know, the chicken fingers, apple slices and milk. No, I went for the cheeseburger, french fries and root beer. I am a bad father.

But, in my defence, cooking has become more and more difficult in a mommy-free environment. (15 days, 23 hours, seven minutes to go) While I enjoy cooking, the motivation just isn't there any more. It seems the labour is less appreciated by my young charges.

I would love to cook a nice roast beef, do something interesting with potatoes and steam some asparagus. But I know it would be met with disdain, I would have to fight the entire meal to get the vegetables into my preschooler and the dog would end up with the lion's share of my toddler's meal.

Sonwun, the elder, turns his nose up at anything that is not intimately familiar and anything that does not involve one cup of ketchup. Sadly, he's the one that can talk.

Sontoo, the younger, will eat almost anything. And while he doesn't speak just yet, he will make the yummy noises at the appropriate time during a meal. On the flip side, when he's had enough, or when he disapproves of the offering, he dumps his plate and wears it like a hat. And, once released from his booster seat, he heads straight for the dog's bowl for dessert. And yes, he makes the yummy noises there too. It kind of takes the shine off his compliments at the dinner table.

And so, yesterday, with my will to fight and my desire to cook both at all-time lows, and my eldest son begging for "restaurant food," I gave in. I fed my children the fat-rich, vitamin-free offerings of Rotten Ronny and his crew. And yes, I felt guilty. No vegetables, but plenty of carbs and sugar. I am a bad father.

But help is on the way. This afternoon the boys and I were invited to dinner tomorrow night. It would seem that before the wife left, she asked her colleagues to check in on me, to make sure I wasn't wandering around naked looking for a clock tower. And one of them has taken up the challenge. So, tomorrow night, it's roast beef, potatoes and adult conversation! Hallay-freakin'-lujah.

Tonight, it's basic spaghetti. I know they'll eat it and it is bath night, so any and all collateral damage will be dealt with immediately.

Hey, do you think the Obama family eats at McDonalds while on vacation? Should they? Should the press be allowed to photograph them there? What's your opinion?

What do you Think?

So what do you think? Does the Obama family have a right to privacy on vacation? Do you think Canada's witness protection program is effective? Do you care? Do these things impact your life in any way?

Me neither.

Polls in general give me gas. They are useful only to those who pay for them and, more often than not, are skewed to provide a predetermined response. And polls create statistics. Not a fan of statistics. But I digress.

Let's talk about the "informal polls," which I come across way too often during my morning news hunt. They can be just plain stupid.

The first question, about the Obama family, was today's informal poll on the Canada AM web site (the "Your Say" segment). That bugs me for a number of reasons. First off, I assume the question is the result of the "scandal" over Mrs. Obama's choice to wear shorts on vacation in the Grand Canyon. Wow. Who gives a flying fuck? Seriously.

She was photographed while wearing said shorts . . . by a photographer . . . while stepping off Air Force One, while on vacation. So now we must, apparently, ponder the privacy question. But why, tell me why, is this a question on one of Canada's national news sites? I mean seriously, we are connected with the U.S. and when it comes to trade, border policy and war, we should be concerned, we should be watching. But when it comes to the First Lady's clothing choices . . . is there really nothing going on in our own country that is more important to Canadians than how much leg is shown by the wife of the leader of our neighbour to the south?

If we must debate inane crap, could we at least find some inane Canadian crap to discuss?

At least Canoe, another major Canadian news site, kept this morning's stupid question within our borders. "Do you think Canada's witness protection program is effective?"

This question followed a rather insubstantial news report on the RCMP-administered program, under the headline: "Concern over few approved for witness protection."

If you'd like to read the "full" story, you'll find it here.

In brief, it offers statistics on the program, but very little on its effectiveness. For example, last year 103 people applied for the program and 15 were accepted. (Does that make it effective, or ineffective?) About $6.6 million was spent on the program, the lion's share going to admin and salaries. (Does that make it effective, or ineffective?) Six people were kicked out of the program for failing to follow the rules and 11 quit because they "could no longer live within the strict confines of the program . . ." (Does that make it effective, or ineffective?)

In addition, according to the story, many of those applying for, and granted, protection, have criminal backgrounds. (Does that make it effective, or ineffective?)

Now, the question. Is this program effective? How the hell would I know? And subsequently, why does my opinion on this matter?

You want my opinion? Tell me, how many witnesses have died or been seriously assaulted as a direct result of being rejected by the program? How many witnesses have died or been seriously injured after being accepted by the program? Can I see a list of the 103 applicants, along with the applications for acceptance? Give me a week to interview the front-line people who work within the program, NOT the ones at the top who must concern themselves with budget cuts. And grant these front-line workers immunity from punishment for being honest.

Then, and only then, will I have an opinion worth offering. But based on the story offered up by Canoe, I have no opinion, so don't ask. And, as an average Canadian (okay, maybe a little above average) my personal knowledge of the witness protection program is nil. And I suspect the same for the vast majority of Canadians who read the Canoe story.

The good news is, I just checked back. No one responded to the question. My faith in Canada is somewhat restored. And I say somewhat, because a fair number of people did respond to the Obama question on the Canada AM poll.

And one final note. The summary of the witness protection story, placed just before the area where we are to leave an opinion, includes the following sentence:

"Of that 15, six people were kicked out because the witness failed to follow the rules, and the remaining 11 decided they no longer needed protection."

I'm pretty sure that adds up to 17.

My World is Shrinking

It's happening. I didn't want it to happen, but it is. I am becoming one of those people who lives his life through the little box on the desk.

Yes, it seems my friends, my social calendar, my contact with human beings outside of the home is all happening on the computer. I hate to admit it, but I start each day (usually at 5 a.m., before the bosses wake up) with a cup of coffee and a visit to my favourite internet communities, to find out who's done what, who has responded to my posts and how many people have read the blog.

I've been thinking a lot about this in the last week or so, while the wife's been away. Is it a bad thing? Is it just the best option for me right now?

I'm a stay-at-home dad, my closest family member is more than 1,000 miles away, I've just moved to a new town, I haven't had the time or opportunity to make friends, and I have two young charges that limit my social activity in a big way. I'm not complaining, understand, I'm just stating the obvious.

So why turn to the computer? Because there aren't too many folks like me within driving distance.

Stay-at-home dads are still a rare breed (but growing) and there are not as many SAHD groups as there are "mommy and me" groups. Yeah, I can and have attended those meetings. They're good to a point, but I'm not a mommy. I can't contribute to the discussions on birth and breast feeding, cosmetics and clothes. And although I can't speak to it personally, a number of the SAHDs I've spoken with have even been turned away at the door by some of the mommy's groups.

And so, to find folks like myself, I turn to the box on the desk. And here I found Dadstayshome.com. You'll see the link to the right of this text in the "My Blog List" section.

It is an active site run by, run for and used by stay-at-home dads. The guys, SAHD's from all over North America, feel like friends. At this site, I find guys who know what it's like to wait for mommy to get home from work, just so they can get a few things done. Guys who have advice for cleaning hardwood floors. Guys who have found a trick or two for feeding a fussy toddler and guys who just want to shoot the shit about sports, politics, plumbing, photography, brewing techniques, cars, news and the funny stuff kids do. These are guys, like me, who no longer know what it's like to eat, shower, shave or poop without an audience.

Yeah, we also swap recipes and bitch about our wives. I've even been virtual golfing (http://www.wgt.com/) with a threesome from the site, after the kids have gone to bed. More living in the box, but hey, I won.

If you happen to be a SAHD reading this, check it out. It might just keep you sane.

I also find myself turning to the box to maintain my writing skills. This is personal and important to me. I want to continue to amuse and piss off the world in my own special way. To that end, I try to write a daily blog and I have joined a dadblog web site. I can read other blogs, critique them and have my own critiqued. Again, contact with and feedback from a segment of society that is not readily available in Thompson.

As for news, I get it from a number of internet sources. Another throwback to the old days I suppose. Must know what's going on in the world and I just don't have the opportunity to buy a newspaper every day.

And yes, I have a Facebook account, but I don't spend a lot of time there. I check it every now and again to see pictures of old friends, brothers, sisters, nieces and nephews. And I send virtual drinks. Why? Not sure.

Anyway, that's what's on my mind today. And writing about it helps me sort it all out. For those of you seeking humour today, I would suggest clicking here. This was a blog entry I discovered at the dadblog site. If you are easily offended by colourful language, don't go. But it's really funny, and appropriate for work. So enjoy. See you tomorrow.

I Asked for It

Well that'll teach me. Yesterday morning, I finished the blog entry with: "Have a good day all. I'm pretty sure I will."

Apparently whoever controls what happens here found this amusing and decided I needed to be wrong, yet again.

The day started poorly, with Sontoo's morning bottle. We use the kind with the disposable liners. (Had plastic ones with Sonwun and then that BPH warning came out, switched to this system - grrr) I warmed the milk, poured it into the bottle and, well, missed. Forgot the liner and, for whatever reason, didn't notice it was missing until half of the milk was flowing across the counter.

Okay, no big deal, grab the paper towels . . . okay, grab the empty spool that once held paper towels. Check cupboard . . . add paper towels to the shopping list. Still no big deal. Clean up with j-cloth, add liner, add milk, hand bottle to annoyed child and move on.

At breakfast, I managed to get a bowl of cereal and banana into Sontoo, which is good. Sonwun had the standard toast and jam, banana on the side.

Sontoo was satisfied, so I cleaned him up and let him go on his way. Sonwun, the elder, wanted a yogurt as well. Great! S

o I got him a strawberry yogurt and went about cleaning up the kitchen. Nature called, so I answered.

I came back downstairs to find Sonwun painting the table with yogurt. I was angry. As I got closer, I saw yogurt on the floor; obviously slung with a spoon, I'm gonna say five to 10 times. I was more angry.

And then I saw the dog, with yogurt all over its back. It's a good size dog, a Golden Retriever. So that's a pretty big back and it was well covered. I was furious. The countdown was on for swim class and now I had a dog to bathe. I don't like yelling, but I y

elled. I sent him to his room and sent the dog outside. I found a cloth and took it upstairs, handed it to the offender and brought him downstairs to clean the floor and walls. (He did a decent job).

After cleaning the table and the remainder of the breakfast dishes, I let the dog back in, took her upstairs and put her in the tub. Quick wash, quick dry and into the mud room to complete the drying process. Didn't want the smell of wet dog throughout the house.

Swim class went well, and Sonwun even provided me with a smile while we were leaving. He saw this sign and said, "Look

Dad, no letters allowed."

Following lunch and nap, I needed some time with the boys. It had been a rough day, relationship-wise. So I sat downstairs, we built a train track (Geotrax - cool!), watched The Lion King and had a great time. I had neglected my supper-making duties, so I called Boston Pizza and ordered up some chicken fingers for the boys and a rib dinner for Daddy.

We got the chicken fingers, but the girl who took my order: "Slow Roasted Ribs," a dinner; somehow heard "Cracked Pepper Dry Ribs," an appetizer.

But that was yesterday. Today's a new day and it sounds like Sontoo's awake in his crib. And, as I sit here listening to him on the baby monitor, it actually sounds like he's saying, "Dad? Daddy? Dada!"

I haven't heard him say that in the morning before. And while that brings a smile to my face, I will not make the same mistake twice.

Today is looking like one crappy day.

No Title Today

Well, good morning. It's Day 4. Mommy comes home in 22 days, six hours and 42 minutes. Not that I'm counting.

So, what to tell you? Yesterday was a long and somewhat frustrating day as it seems Sonwun is working hard to figure out which of Daddy's buttons to push next. I suppose it's a normal part of development, but without a break, it's hard to deal with.

He's at that phase where his language skills are right up to par, but that little filter between his brain and his mouth has yet to develop. Each and every thought that enters his brain proceeds immediately to his mouth and out into the world. There isn't a question, relevant or not, that he holds back.

"Sonwun, pick up that blanket and put it back in your room."

"This blanket?" (There's only one within 50 feet of him and he's sitting on it).

"Yes, that blanket."

"In my room?"

"Yes, in your room."

"Why do I have to pick up the blanket?"

"Because I want to keep the living room clean."

"This blanket."

"Yes, Sonwun, that blanket."

"Why do we want the living room clean?"

"So that it looks nice."

"Why does it look nice?"

"Because we keep it clean, now take that blanket upstairs, let's go."

"Daddy?"

(Frustrated now) "Yes Sonwun?"

"I love you."

He at least knows enough to slip that one in at the end when he hears me getting annoyed.

But that was yesterday. Today's a new day and I'm looking forward to a good one.

I slept a little better last night. I am trying to implement the Better Sleep suggestions that I've found on various sleep disorder websites. Last night, I made it from 11 (my chosen bed time) to 5:30 without waking up too many times in between. That, for me, is a vast improvement.

I don't think I'll be taking any of the sleeping pills prescribed by my doctor on Tuesday. I had time to look them up on the net and HOLY CRAP. Wikipedia tells me it's a "highly potent, anticonvulsant, muscle relaxant . . . high potency, long acting drug and is a frequently abused street drug."

It is prescribed for, among other things, epilepsy, anxiety disorders, panic disorder, mania, hyperekplexia, bruxism, restless legs syndrome, hallucinogen persisting perception disorder and akathisia.

I don't know what half of those things are, but I'm pretty sure I don't have them. I just want a good night's sleep. Not a coma.

So, as I said, I don't think I'll be taking any of those - at least not while Mommy's away. On the other hand, I may just have found a way to make a little extra money to help with household expenses. Just kidding. Put down the phone. No need to call the police.

Anyway, it's six degrees here in lovely Thompson, Manitoba and the forecast is for rain. It's Day 4 of Sonwun's swimming lessons and I'm really looking forward to it, mostly because he is. There is a small mountain of laundry that requires my attention and two boys that always require my attention.

Have a good day all. I'm pretty sure I will.

Be (a) Patient

Well yesterday morning was a fun one. It started with a visit to the doctor's office, two energetic boys in tow.

Waiting for 15 minutes is no big deal, if you're alone. But if you have inquisitive children it can be a trial. While Sonwun sat in a chair and asked a million questions about everything in the room, Sontoo, the younger, set about trying to collect all of the equipment needed to perform a pap smear. Why, tell me why, don't they put that stuff up higher? Am I the only parent that must spend 15 minutes waiting in an exam room with two small children? I only have two hands.

Anyway, the point of the visit was to go over blood test results from about a week ago. In case I haven't mentioned it, I was diagnosed with Type 2 diabetes about a year and a half ago. So we must monitor. And the bottom line today is that my glucose levels are too high and I need to get them under better control. I knew that. I monitor daily. But there are some issues, Catch 22 style.

For those of you not familiar with this, um, challenge, there are a number of factors that impact blood sugar levels. The obvious one is food. But it is only one of the factors. Of equal standing are stress, sleep and exercise. And the past five months have increased stress, deprived me of sleep and trashed my exercise plan.

Let's start with stress. Regular readers will know that we just moved from Gimli to Thompson. And moves, as you know, are one of THE big stresses in life, right up there with divorce, weddings and driving around Thompson at midnight. But that one's behind me now. Mommy being away is the new one and I'm getting better at dealing with that one daily.

Moving on to sleep. Stress interferes with sleep. See above. The doctor gave me a prescription today for a sleeping pill, but I am nervous about taking one for two reasons. I don't want to sleep through Sontoo's crying, or coughing. And I don't want to get hooked on them. (Oh, the warning on the medication? May cause drowsiness. Seriously.)

Exercise. We bought a treadmill about two years ago. I used it regularly for a while and it does help with the glucose levels. I actually got to the point where I was off the meds and doing fine. Then I got lazy and cocky and slowed down. And that's how I got to where I am today. Finding time to run these days is difficult. But I have to make time and I know it. So, tonight when the boys are asleep, I will get on it. It's the only time of day that I can be sure Sontoo will not attempt to join me and find himself flying toward the wall, or rolling at a high rate of speed that I'm sure would not be healthy for a 1.5-year-old.

I think if I start with exercise, I will see improvement in stress levels as well as sleep problems. Triple bonus. Time will tell. I've done some reading on sleep problems and I've learned a few things:

1. I need to set a regular bed time.

2. I should have a wind-down routine.

3. No coffee before bed (duh!)

4. I need to cool off the room.

Go figure, it's just like the stuff they say about the kids. I'm pretty sure I can handle it, but Sontoo's gonna have a hard time giving up that nap time latte.

In other Thompson news, the Boil Water Advisory has ended. That's good, cause I was just about out of bottled water. I have run the taps to clear the system and made this morning's coffee with tap water. It's funny, I know it's all good now, but I can't help but feel just a little leery. For the kids, I think I'll finish up the bottled water before switching back to tap.

On the agenda for today, Swim Lesson 3 for Sonwun. He is still loving the water, loving the lessons and loving the competition. Even at 3.5, put two boys in the water and you're going to see competition at work. Both boys have to be first to the edge of the pool when told to go there. I don't hear much through the glass in the viewing area, but "I win" generally comes through loud and clear about a dozen times a lesson.

Anyway, that's the news. Have yourselves a great day.

A test

Okay, this one is just a test to see if I can upload video without screwing things up too badly.

The video, in case you don't see it, is of Sonwun's second swim class. He's the one in the teacher's arms at the start. We are in the viewing room, so the only sound you will hear is Sontoo's commentary. It's not very long - 30 seconds I think, but it's cute.

I am one of Those Crazy Parents

I will not be one of those crazy parents.

I will not be one of those crazy parents.

I will not be one of those crazy parents.

I will not be one of those crazy parents.

Well, we're back from swimming lesson number one. And I have to write lines. Seems no matter what school I go to, or visit, or watch . . .

Okay, the lines are self-imposed. I really have to step back, chill out. I'm learning and I will get better.

Upon arrival (15 minutes early) I took the boys and had a seat with the other moms in the viewing area. Everyone was nice, asked the boys' names and so on.

"You have your hands full this morning," said one. "Every morning," I replied. The moms quickly learned the boys' names and, minutes later, even remembered them. I did not remember any names. Note to self: remember names tomorrow.

Anyway, at the appropriate time, I took Sonwun and Sontoo to the change room, got Sonwun changed and led him to the pool. There, we met Sarah, his teacher. She seemed nice and quickly took control. I didn't have time to ask her about her teaching ability, her rescue training, her medical background, of if there's any history of mental illness in her family. I fought the urge to remain poolside to monitor Sonwun's every move, and instead, beat a hasty retreat back to the viewing area.

"You did the right thing," said one of the moms upon my return.

Perhaps.

I watched as my eldest son, at 3.5 years, made his way around the pool with Sarah. The only other student was a boy about Sonwun's age, but maybe a little bigger. The other boy held the teacher's hand all the way around while my boy skipped ahead, touched everything and made my heart jump half a dozen times as he skipped too close to the edge of the deep end. Be cool, be cool.

And then it was into the water, which was up to his armpits as he tip-toed around the pool. I was happy to see he was eager to get in, eager to get involved under the ever-watchful eye of . . . he slipped . . . his head's under water . . .

I just about went through the plate glass viewing window in the 0.5 seconds it took for Sonwun to regain his footing. But during that fraction of a second, I had visions of him taking in a huge amount of water, choking, never wanting to go near water again and passing on his fear of water to his children. The other mothers kind of chuckled, rolled their eyes. It's nice to be the new guy.

I will not be one of those crazy parents.

I will not be one of those crazy parents.

I will not be one of those crazy parents.

I will not be one of those crazy parents.

It took a few minutes, but I managed to adjust myself to the devil-may-care attitude of Sarah's teaching style. I mean, she let him get more than an arm's length from her. She took her eyes off him for more than two seconds. Okay, you're the boss. I'll try to be cool with your Bohemian way of teaching children to swim.

In spite of it all, things went very well. Sonwun had a blast and went about each task with huge smile on his face. Yeah, he had to be warned about splashing the other boy once or twice, but he'll learn. And he can't wait to get back to the pool tomorrow.

All in all, a good time, a good experience. And now I have something to keep us all occupied, every day, for about an hour, for two weeks. I may just survive.

Day 2

Good morning and welcome to Day 2.

The boys slept well last night, which is good. I did not. Which is bad.

As the only adult in the house now, I am more concerned with Sontoo's cold. When the wife is here, we both assume one of us will hear him if he starts the seal-like cough that goes with croup. So we sleep okay, and we've always heard it. Now, I'm the only one that can do anything about it if it starts. I was up at 3 a.m. listening to him breathe. And I didn't get back to sleep.

Fortunately, I went to bed pretty early, so I got enough sleep to get me through the day.

So, what's on the agenda today? Well, after breakfast, I will start getting the boys ready for Sonwun's swimming lessons, which start today. I am hoping against hope that he will enjoy the class, listen to the instructor and do what he's told. Listening is not one of his stronger attributes. But we've talked about it, we'll talk about it again at breakfast and we will talk about it on the way to the pool. Hopefully it will sink in.

Last night, and this morning, we talked to Mommy through the miracle of computers and webcams. It was great to see her face and talk for a few minutes. Having been born in the era of rotary dial telephones, I am impressed with how far technology has taken us in my short lifetime. It's wonderful that Mommy can see her boys every day while she's away. I think, and hope, it makes the separation just a little easier to take.

As for life in Thompson, we are into Day 4 of the Boil Water Advisory. The water mains are being flushed as we speak and, when that's all done, they'll be doing random testing around town to make sure all is well.

And just in case you were wondering, it is 8 degrees here today. That's 46.4 F for those of you down south. It's a chilly day, made just a little more pleasant by the constant drizzle and wind. So it's an indoor kinda day. Maybe we'll pick up a video or two on the way home from swimming lessons.

Again, wish me luck. I'm feeling a little better today. The initial shock has worn off and we're slowly working back into the routine of normal life. Should get a little better each day. Cheers!

Mommy's Gone

Oh man, is this going to be tough.

I just got back from the airport, where I said goodbye to my wife for a month. I never thought it would be this difficult. She's been away before, a week or two at a time. But I've been in familiar surroundings; had friends nearby, access to a babysitter. Now I'm in a city where I know four or five people, and not very well.

The house feels empty, even with my two boys. Mommy's absence is palpable. It's not like the days when she's at work, coming home by 4:30. She's gone for a month and I can feel it. It sucks.

I don't think the boys understand it just yet. They said goodbye at the airport, but I'm pretty sure they think she'll be home tonight. I'm not looking forward to bedtime, theirs or mine. In a word, it's lonely.

So I guess I must throw myself into this new reality full force. I must get out of the house, take the kids to the park and that kind of thing. Call the wife's colleagues, who have offered to help. Sontoo's swimming lessons tomorrow will be a good start.

So what else is new? Well, there's a Boil Water Advisory out in Thompson right now. Seems they have some trouble at the water treatment plant. No one is getting real specific on what the problem is, including the local newspaper, but they say it should be cleared up in four to six days. In the meantime, I have purchased a couple 18L bottles of water and am thanking my lucky stars we didn't sell the water cooler at the garage sale. Although I suspect a couple of potential buyers are kicking themselves.

Anyway, must get back to feeling sorry for myself and get over it. The next few weeks will, thankfully, be busy ones.