Tim Hortons Rocks!

Well, happy June 1!

Eight years ago today, I married my wife. So happy anniversary to us!

First off, I know I haven't written in a while. And, if this was truly a great blog, I would explain it all. But it isn't, and I won't. Been some rough times and there is still some rough stuff ahead.

Truly great writing, be it blogging or a newspaper column, is wide open. The writer will open up and cover everything, no punches pulled, no holds barred. I'm not there yet. Some things I still want to keep to myself. Greatness will have to wait.

But I digress.

Started a new fatherhood phase last night . . . that of co-soccer-coach. Sonwun has officially entered the organized sports world. And last night the Dutchies went head-to-head with the Pumpkin Spices in 40 minutes of end-to-end action at the Juniper School soccer field.

And yeah, I think our team of orange-coloured sports stars picked up the worst name in the league. Pumpkin Spices?? Really? Of all the donuts in the Tim Hortons franchise, why did it have to be the Pumpkin Spices. I mean how do you cheer that one on? GO PUMPKIN SPICES!! Ugh.

I mean GO DUTCHIES, at least sounds kind of cool. Or GO KRUELLERS!

Oh well. I think the poor Honey Dips have it almost as bad as we do. GO HONEY DIPS!! Yeah, that's not easy to shout from the sidelines.

Anyhoo, the Dutchies started slow, but came on strong in the end to win a decisive victory over Pumpkin Spice.

The game itself was fun to watch. Doesn't really resemble soccer. More of a clump of children moving about a field, legs and arms flying and, occasionally, a soccer ball pops out of the clump, followed by the biggest kid who manages to run down the field toward (hopefully) the OPPOSING goal.

The clump follows and sooner or later swallows the ball once again. Lather, rinse, repeat for 40 minutes.

And, in spite of the team names, I have to give a whole lot of credit to the good folks at Tim Hortons. They supply the shirts, medals and some of the other promotional stuff to make the league run. And they do it for, at least, all of northwestern Ontario, Manitoba and Saskatchewan. That, in my opinion, is a fantastic way to spend marketing dollars. It will inspire me to buy at Timmies in a way that an expensive television commercial never will.

And the best part? On the inside, front of his pumpkin-coloured soccer jersey, down at the bottom, is written "I just played. I'm thirsty."

And, in keeping with Tim Hortons "Roll Up the Rim" promotion, when Sonwun enters the local Timmies after a game, he just has to roll up the front of his jersey, show the secret code, and he gets a free soft drink, or milk, or hot chocolate. And that's after EVERY game.

That's just cool and I have to give Tim Hortons a world of credit for it. Thank you! Well done!

Anyhoo, it's Tuesday. Preschool day, swimming lessons and a whole lot of yard work.

Have a great day!

Still Smiling

You'll have to forgive me for dwelling on Sonwun's art, but I'm truly fascinated. In spite of the tongue-in-cheek "critiques" I've offered in the past, I do believe the art is a reflection of what's going on inside his little head. And I just think it's really, really cool to see it expressed on paper.

The latest evolution is stick figure stories.

Up until now, he's pretty much stuck to individual works, Rainbow Hands for example.

But yesterday he really started into the stick figure stories. And again, there was no prompting for it. He just sits at the dining room table and goes about his business while I clean or fold laundry or whatever.

He called me over and showed me his latest work. It was a stick figure standing beside a boxy-looking thing.

"What's that," I asked him.

"It's me, and that's a swing."

"Cool!"

"And I'm going to make you," he said, "so you can push me on the swing."

And he did. He drew a bigger stick figure which apparently represented me, standing on the other side of the swing. I just think that's cool.

This morning he drew another picture. This one of two stick figures, one larger, one smaller, standing on either side of a boxy-looking thing that seemed to have a knob or handle on it.

"What's that?"

"That's you and mommy," he said.

"And what's this," I asked, pointing to the box.

"It's the refrigerator. You're getting breakfast for me."

Okay, we don't have arms in the picture, which would make getting breakfast a little more of a challenge, but I do notice we're both smiling. That's kind of a relief for me, as I'm home all day, every day with the boys and, yes, I do get annoyed and frustrated at times with their antics. I'm not always smiling.

It's just nice that, inside that little head, and on paper, I'm still smiling.

Have a great Monday!

Evil Bitty

As a parent, I hate to admit it. But there are some toddlers in this world who really piss me off.

And no, I'm not talking about my own. I'm talking about little Bitty at playgroup. And I hate to admit that she pisses me off because, well, she's just a toddler.

Bitty is about three years old, maybe two and change. But she's got a nasty little streak in her that rears its ugly head just about every time out.

Bitty, by the way, is short for Bitch In Training-t-y.

Like most little toddlers, she has a deceptively angelic face. Sweet kid, you think, when you first see her. But then you start watching. And you see that behind those angelic little eyes, there lurks a less-than-angelic mind. And it seems to always be thinking, "How can I make life miserable for my peers?"

This little bugger pissed me off for the first time a few weeks ago. Sontoo was happily doing what he does best at playgroup. He had gathered three Matchbox cars and was pushing them around, carrying them around and finding places to drive them around.

Well, Bitty saw this and decided she needed to get involved. And she didn't want just one of the cars. She wanted all of them. And she didn't want to play with them, she just wanted to take them, run away and hide them . . . for no other reason than to deprive Sontoo of his fun.

She grabbed those cars, one by one, and then tried to run. But she dropped one. Now you might think, well, she still got two of them. It will still make Sontoo unhappy. But no. Bitty stopped short, turned around and ran back to collect the one she'd dropped, and then dashed off again. Two-thirds miserable is not good enough. She was looking for a complete morale-crushing victory and would not be denied.

And I've watched her before. I know she has no interest in playing with cars. Her only interest, it seems, is depriving other toddlers of the things that they enjoy.

At our most recent playgroup outing, I was keeping a closer eye on Bitty. This kind of evil intrigues me.

The toy chest at playgroup includes a dozen or so little Flintstone-style cars. The kids get in and move around using their feet. And last time out, I spotted Bitty sitting in one that is designed to look like a police car. Interesting choice. I watched. She wasn't driving around like the other children. She was just sitting there, studying her environment, seeking an opportunity, plotting. And then she saw it. Another toddler started to walk behind the car. I could see her little wheels turning, her mind calculating the precise moment to push backward with all her little might, and run over the other kid.

Well, she didn't actually run him over, but she did knock him down. Mission accomplished, exit vehicle, head for the hills.

About half an hour later, I spotted her again. This time she was at the slide. Was she sliding? Hell no. That's not what she's about. She was sitting at the top of the slide, just sitting, while two kids were lined up on the ladder awaiting their turn to slide.

I know, you're thinking, Bitty Mission Accomplished. No one slides today. But no. Merely depriving the other children of the chance to slide was not the goal here. She sat, she waited and she waited some more.

And when the child behind her, about 18 months old I'm guessing, finally struggled to the top of the ladder (not an easy feat for this barely-a-toddler), Bitty leaned back as fast and violently as she could, attempting to knock the other little girl down the ladder.

And this, my friends, is the challenge at playgroup. You want to step in and get involved, explain to this nasty little child what is acceptable and what is not. But you know mommy's hanging around in here somewhere. Watching? I don't know, but I hope not. If she's watching, why isn't she swooping in, laying down a little tough love? My guess is she's not watching. She's chatting it up with her friends and has no idea that her little angel has progressed from simple theft to aggravated assault.

Nevertheless, I did get involved on that one. If only to catch the other little girl so that she didn't begin a domino effect on the slide stairs and on those waiting in line at the bottom of the stairs. I suggested to Bitty that she head on down the slide as other were waiting their turn.

I got a blank look in return. Behind the hollow, evil eyes, I could almost read her little mind.

"Aren't you the guy with the kid who likes cars? Maybe I'll just go see how he's doing . . ."

I actually got a chill.

Anyhoo, it's Wednesday. Playgroup day again. We'll be there and I'll be watching my back, watching Sontoo's back and trying to figure out who spawned this evil.

Have a great day.

Enunciate!

So . . . Sontoo is at the repeating phase of his short little life. At almost-two, he latches on to a word, or phrase and rattles it off, time and time and time again, until Daddy's eyes cross and he's about to go postal.

What's more, if you don't respond each and every time to his request or statement, he'll get a little pissy about it. This is especially true if he fakes a fall.

"I tumbleweed dada, I tumbleweed dada, I tumbleweed dada, I tumbleweed dada."

Each successive declaration increases in volume and irritation factor. It's one of those days. Patience is rapidly dwindling (Sonwun, surrounded by a mountain of toys: "I'm bored.") and I've got a mess of stuff to do today.

After feeding the boys and cleaning the kitchen, I got a load of laundry in, completed my grocery list and headed for Safeway. Upon arrival and prior to exiting the van, Sonwun recited his self-styled and traditional oath of good behaviour (believing it would earn him Mario Kart time) and then proceeded to shatter said oath 30 seconds into the fresh produce aisle.

Sontoo, on the other hand, decided it was a good time to break out of his shell. He offered a chipper "Hewwo" to anyone within 15 feet and, keeping with his newfound joy of repetition, continued hewwoing until he either got a response or out of sight.

And he saved his best for the checkout. In the magazine rack was a Thomas the Train colouring book. Sontoo loves Thomas and all of his friends from the Island of Sodor. In particular, he recognizes and knows the names of Thomas, James and Percy.

And, at the checkout, he started reciting the names. He got stuck on Percy and kept repeating, at successively increasing volume, the name Percy.

Problem is, his enunciation is still a little on the weak side. And so, while I knew exactly what he was saying, the checkout girl, the three people standing in line, the next checkout girl and the people in her line, heard my 2-year-old son was repeating the word "pussy" over and over and over and at ever increasing volume levels.

And, because he's feeling quite social this day, he's actually speaking to, and looking at, the checkout girl while saying this.

I've got nothing else to add. Have a great day.

Cabin Fever

Well, Happy Monday!

I'm afraid cabin fever is setting in. And it's only January.

But it all kinda got kicked into high gear when Neomom was away for three days last week, two of which were supposed to have been days off.

There's been snow on the ground since mid-October, it's been too cold to be outside most of the time, the boys are going a little nuts and if I have to play one more game of Candy Land, you may just find me running through the Gumdrop Pass with a rifle, on my way to the Peppermint Forest to hunt for Lord Licorice, cause he pisses me off. Miss a turn my ass. YOU miss a turn.

But, um, I digress, or something.

In an effort to stave off the insanity and excitement of laundry, shopping, dishes, cleaning, laundry, shopping, dishes, cleaning, I've read the two books I got for Christmas. One was a James Patterson novel (entertaining as always) and the other was Andre Agassi's autobiography, OPEN.

Agassi's book was interesting and very readable. And, thank goodness, it was not a whiny celebrity, blame-it-on-everyone-but-yourself kind of thing. It just came across as a description of a part of one man's journey through life. Yes, a somewhat extraordinary life, but with the same common, base problems as everyone else.

We've all got obstacles to deal with, we've all got to find the tools with which to overcome the obstacles. Some of us have bigger obstacles, some of us have better tools to deal with them.

I don't want to spoil anything for any of you who might like to read it, so I won't elaborate a great deal. Overall, good book. Very readable and very interesting to me, one who was a big tennis fan during much of Agassi's heyday.

That being said, as with any celebrity autobiography, I would now love to read the autobiographies of the folks mentioned in Agassi's book, just to see how they interpreted the same events and time frame. Just want a more complete picture.

Well, that's all I've got for today. More laundry to fold. Oh, and the Mini Pops? Those annoying prepubescent kids who are recorded singing popular songs of the day? I hate the commercials for their CDs. It just seems one step down on the white-trashometer from the child beauty pagents. One more commercial of them dancing and singing songs they can't begin to understand, and I'm gonna put my foot through the TV. That, or whoever's responsible for them will join Lord Licorice on my hit list.

Happy Monday.

One Day at a Time

You know, sometimes, like this morning, I am blown away by the world in which my boys will grow up.

As I sit down with my 5 a.m. coffee, I see that a guy in my Grade 3 class, about 35 years ago, is a big fan of Bob Dylan, the Romantics and music in general. I see that a girl I went to school with in Grade 3 recently celebrated her 20th wedding anniversary.

My sister in British Columbia is home from Vancouver where she enjoyed an excellent dinner at the Dockside Brewery on Granville Island. My brother and his wife in the Niagara Region apparently have a new dog.

Two friends from our last RCMP posting, in Gimli, Manitoba are enjoying a trip to Disney Land, and another from the same posting now lives in Fort Providence, Northwest Territories, but wishes he was in Regina celebrating the Stampeders' win.

A friend from high school also recently celebrated his 20th wedding anniversary, another is living in the Grand Caymans and still another is suffering from pet allergies.

My sister-in-law, in Toronto, loves to sing karaoke, and I can listen to her sing in my kitchen in Thompson.

My nephew from Kansas has moved to Colorado and my niece in Niagara celebrated her 19th birthday at "The Pepper."

I'm not sure if that's the same Red Hot Chili Pepper where my friends and I, about 20 years ago, used to hang out in downtown St. Catharines, Ontario.

I don't know, because I haven't spoken to any of them. I'm just checking Facebook to find out what's going on in their lives.

About 25 years ago, when I was graduating high school, none of this existed. The internet was in its infancy, accessible by only a knowledgeable few. The latest video technology was the amazing VHS tape. And cell phones did not exist, at least not on the same scale. Apparently, today, they are a mandatory accessory for everyone over the age of 10.

Neomom is not a fan of computers. They are a necessary evil in her world, but she'd prefer to study in a library and write by hand.

I like computers and the internet. To me, it's an amazing tool, but at the same time, an amazing danger. It has opened up the world to my living room— the entire world; the good, the bad and, yes, the ugly.

My challenge, one of many in raising two boys, is to stay on top of this technology because, to them, it will simply be a fact of life. And, given that I started my family a little later in life, I know that I'm behind the eight ball right off the hop.

I own a cell phone but rarely use it. I don't know what, exactly 3G means or how useful it is. I own a DVD player, but not a Blue Ray. I don't own a plasma or LCD TV. And I don't understand texting. Why not just call?

But I must do my best to understand it all, so that I can introduce my boys to this world in an intelligent, positive, tempered way. It's good stuff, but it's not all good stuff. So much of it seems designed to part the fool and his money. So much of the stuff that was free when I was a child— television and radio to name two— can or must be paid for monthly, along with a cell phone and access to a video gaming network.

I don't know where the world will be in eight to 10 years when my boys will really start to "need" the technology. But I know that I must do my best to keep up and work to instill basic life lessons that I hope will guide them into whatever lies ahead.

When shopping for a new house, I start in the basement. If it has a solid foundation, I will overlook minor imperfections elsewhere. And I think the same applies to kids. I need to provide the tools for them to build a solid foundation upon which to base their life decisions. There will be mistakes— minor imperfections— but as long as they have the foundation to fall back on, I must trust that they'll be okay.

Wow, now my head is really swimming. Time to step back, take a deep breath. Sure, I have to keep an eye on the future, but live in the present. There's so much good stuff to enjoy with the boys right now and plenty of life lessons to be taught, each one a brick in what I hope will one day be a very solid foundation.

As Abraham Lincoln said, "The best thing about the future is that it comes only one day at a time."

Or, from Roman Emperor Marcus Aurelius, "Never let the future disturb you. You will meet it, if you have to, with the same weapons of reason which today arm you against the present."

(And yes, I found those on the internet.)

Some things seem timeless. Sontoo and his truck. I had a truck when I was young too.

His has lights and sound. Mine did not.

Five Things that Make me Smile

Breakfast with the boys (almost) always makes me smile . . .

Okay, in honour of the weekend, such as it is, I've decided to try to keep track of things that make me smile during the week, and things that make me, well, smile less and post them on Saturday or Sunday.

So, with just the right amount of adieu,

Things that make me Smile:

1. Wake-up time with Sontoo. No matter how much he's squawking, I can count on a smile the moment I open his door and turn on the light. He's just so happy to start the day. And I just love his morning routine. If he's standing in his crib when I open the door, he'll smile and then he'll do a bum drop, which is to say he jumps up, puts his legs straight out in front of him and lands on his little tushy. He then gathers his three gramma blankets, and hugs them while I take him from the crib to the change table. I'll miss that when it ends.

2. In a similar vein, my morning hug from Sonwun. When he wakes up, usually at about 6 a.m., I am downstairs either writing my blog entry or checking up on my other on-line activities. He, without fail, thumps down the stairs, enters the kitchen, says "Good Morning Daddy," and gives me my hug. Great way to start the day!

3. The smell of fresh ground coffee. Once you get a grinder, you'll never go back to the pre-ground stuff. The smell, the taste, the kick - oh joy!

4. Trying something new and succeeding. This week it was home-made bread. I always thought that this was one of those things that was extremely difficult and best left to seasoned stay-at-home moms and dads. It was so much easier than I thought and it tasted soooo good. Sonwun loved it and even ate the crust!

5. The sound of my boys playing together. It's not something I hear often, as they are usually fighting over a toy or blanket. But when they are doing something downstairs that is making them both laugh, I can't help but smile.

Things that make me smile a little less . . .

1. People who think the drug store is a casino. I don't know why, but they always seem to end up in front of me at the check-out. I am buying one thing and, with two kids in tow, am anxious to complete my transaction before one or both of them are arrested for shoplifting. The senior in front of me, however, must have their 50 weekly lottery tickets and scratch tickets individually checked. Then they must get their cash and then they must pore over their options for new tickets this week. Drives me up a freakin' wall, especially here in Thompson where there is rarely more than one clerk at the check-out.

2. The big purple dinosaur and his minions. I can't stand this show and have banned it from my home. The combination of the dopey-sounding dinosaur and his ever-smiling Stepford children co-stars just leaves me cold. And hey, a note to the writers, when you want the big purple goof to give an example of "rhyming," maybe "fiddle and diddle" are not your best options. Seriously, give your head a shake. The show creeps me out enough without adding that to the mix.

3. Whining. Especially whining for an extended period of time. Daddy has things to do during the day and can not, and will not, carry you around while I'm doing them. Sorry, not logistically possible. I love my boys with all my heart, but the sound of them whining when I'm tired and folding laundry, or making supper, is like nails on a chalkboard.

4. The moron who thought it was funny to attack our snowman. You know, that was a fun, family project. It was placed outside of the living room window so that we could look at it all winter long. You ruined that and you pissed me off. Here's hoping we get the chance to build another before the real cold sets in. Oh, and I know that temperatures that hovered around zero in the days leading up to your attack made the snowman into a pretty solid chunk of ice. I hope it hurt, you little shit.

5. Discipline. I hate it. No matter what method we choose, it's just no fun. Something as simple as "no dessert if you don't clean your plate," sucks. This week, Sonwun and I worked together to make a carrot cake - his favourite. At supper, however, he refused to finish, or even make a real effort at his taco salad. As such, the cake remained in the fridge, untouched. I hate that. The fact that we made the cake together, with supper last night in mind, made it that much worse. I was really looking forward to seeing him enjoy the fruits of our labour. I know it's a necessary and critical part of parenting. But it's never fun.

But hey, let's end with a smile . . .