Success

We found our childcare place. Unbelievable!

Okay, so I sense this is a delicate subject. If I start criticizing the different centers we visited today, I might say something obnoxious about the place where your child, nephew, or friend's neighbor's cousin goes. For the sake of being diplomatic, here's what I liked about the places I hated:

- They seemed safe.

- They seemed clean.

- The staff seemed nice.

- The kids did not seem miserable.

And now I will offer three pieces of criticism to the centers we did not choose. Take it with a grain of salt, for I am a fussy, fussy man.

- Must your staff wear khaki pants and over-sized polos with your logo on it? Does hideous fashion improve morale? (That sounds shallow. I'm a teacher who wears jeans every day. If I had a dress code, I would feel stifled and robotic. Maybe it's just me. Maybe it's that polos and khakis are also worn by teenagers at part-time jobs. Is this McDaycare?)

- When we ask if your center uses baby sign language, do not become confused and say, "Well, we do have one deaf child here."

- Speaking of McDaycare, we do not care that today is chicken nugget day for your toddlers and how exciting that is for them. Not only is our child not a toddler, but we haven't decided if she will eat a chicken nugget ever.

When it comes down to it, it's a feeling straight from the gut that tells you that a place is right for your kid. In truth, any place would probably be fine. But here are some things we like about the place we chose:

- Every teacher has at least a four-year degree.

- They have specific curricula in music, Spanish, sign language, and more.

- The crib area is dim and away from the play area.

- They have an on-site nurse.

- Jeans.

A large part of it was that gut feeling, that resounding "Yes" as soon as we walked in the door. Those feelings are not to be ignored.

By August, my goal is to identify which arm and which leg I can live without, because that's approximately what it's going to cost.

Ball

Today was quite good. How can you argue with a noon game on a Thursday? My friend's girlfriend works for the Twins (not as the mascot), and besides being cute and cool, she gets tickets behind home plate. Therefore, they must never break up. If they do, I might try to date her on the side.

(Note to future-Lyla: Daddy's kidding.)

I passed a major fatherhood test today by not sacrificing Lyla in order to catch a fly ball. It was two rows in front of us, and had I dived, I probably could've caught it and only maimed a couple people. Had Lyla not been in my lap, this is probably what would've happened. Instead, I shielded her with my arms just in case the ball were to ricochet. Go me!

I did unfortunately have to bring her into the men's room for a diaper change, but she touched nothing. I also blocked her from the hideous view of drunken trough-pissers. She cried pretty much the whole time, expressing the anguish of us both.

But what a great game! The Twins came back to win, thus putting Lyla's record at 1-1. And the Twins mascot got to meet Lyla, so it was a big day for him, too.

Nutrition

I like the mystery books of Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child. They publish one book a year together (except for last year, which sucked) starring Special Agent Aloysius Pendergast, a type of Sherlock Holmes who solves unsolvable murders, battles his evil-genius brother, and rarely goes by the book. It's brain candy, and my brain is very hungry for candy.

Their new book is called Cemetery Dance, a title so candy-coated that I think my frontal lobe just got a cavity. I'm not giving away anything not revealed on the dust jacket, but in the first chapter a regular character is murdered with a butcher knife by a man...WHO'S SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD! Slurp, goes my brain.

If only Lyla would allow me time to read. Today I woke up before 6:00 and took care of Julie, who's been sick the past two days. Then I crept down to the livingroom, poured a cup of coffee and a bowl of cereal, and basked in the knowledge that yesterday Lyla awoke at 8:30.

But two bites of cereal, three sips of coffee, and four paragraphs later, Lyla's internal clock went kablooie. "Squawk squawk!" she said from her crib.

Oh well. Hanging out with her is more brain-nutritious anyway.

Twiddle

Sometimes I'll look down at my hands and see a toy there, such as the seahorse rattle. I'll be twiddling its rings without realizing it, with no idea of how it got there. Must have picked it up at some point. What a boring toy. Twiddle.

Or the musical animal buttons. Push the cat button once, it meows a horrifying meow. Twice, it says "cat." A third time, "gato." A fourth time, you get a bit of Beethoven's 5th. Beethoven offers the friendly reminder, "You're an adult. You're an adult. Dun dun dun dun..."

But I can't stop. I don't know if it's nervous energy, A.D.D., the need to fidget, or an honest fascination with these toys. Lyla will be in bed and I'll push the toy box away from me so I can't reach it. Still, moments later I'll realize that I'm playing with something, and it'll be the bead rattle with the attached stuffed sun. The sun has this bucket-eating grin on his face as if daring me to shake it and be easily entertained once again.

Mud

Julie took the day off today, so we took Lyla to the zoo. In the process, we managed to answer an age-old question. Since Julie's ovaries predate this picture, the egg came before the chicken.

We witnessed a milestone today, too, the first time Lyla reacted when an object was taken away from her. The object happened to be Julie's coffee cup.



Lyla had a meltdown when this cup was taken away. I would've taken a picture of it, but when your baby has a meltdown at the zoo, photography is an inappropriate first response.

I guess when she sees her parents suckling from the coffee teat day after day, she figures it must be something special. When she's a little older and demands to have a taste, she will likely (as I did when I was younger) equate the taste with mud and be cured of her curiosity.

At least for awhile.

Day

A good friend of mine from high school is an amazing artist. Check out some of her work here. About a month ago I contacted her and asked if she'd do a watercolor portrait of Lyla that I could give to Julie for Mother's Day.

The actual painting is 11" x 14". Here's a photo of it:


Happy day to mothers everywhere, especially to mine and to Lyla's.

Mission

Julie's favorite pop culture mini-icon is Clinton Kelly from the show What Not To Wear on TLC. This morning we were watching the news and discovered he would be at Southdale hosting a fashion show in conjunction with Macy's and signing copies of his new book. Tomorrow is Mother's Day, so this opportunity couldn't really have knocked any louder.

At Macy's, we learned that the only way to get his book was to spend $100 in the women's department. Julie found nothing she liked and decided she didn't need an autograph anyway. I knew better, but we'll get to that in a few paragraphs.

In the mall outside Macy's, Julie was having reservations about staying for the fashion show. It started in an hour, they hadn't even opened the seating yet, we had Lyla to deal with, etc. I could see crankiness brimming, so I told Julie to stay there, get a good seat, and I would stroll the mall with Lyla, no worries. Once she agreed, they cut the ribbons blocking off the seats, and Julie bobbed and weaved her way to one on the middle aisle.

I left her with a bottle of water, some coffee, a snack, a magazine, and a lotion sample from Crabtree and Eveleth because she complained that her hands smelled like a sandwich.

So Lyla and I wandered the mall for a couple hours, both thankful to not be at a fashion show. Julie loved it, texting me at one point to say "Having SUCH a good time!"



Regarding the book signing, I had some time to kill, so I convinced a manager at Macy's to give me a book for buying a $100 gift card. I promised that Julie would use it at a later date for clothes and not for a coffee pot or bedsheets or whatever.

Then after feeding Lyla a bottle, I got in the book signing line (second in line) and texted Julie to meet me there when the show was done.

After seeing Clinton in person at the show, Julie was of course thrilled to actually meet him. Despite the now absurdly long line, Clinton and Julie had a leisurely conversation in which she welcomed him to Minnesota, complimented the way he worked the crowd, and introduced him to Lyla. In her book, Clinton wrote, "Julie - Happy 1st Mother's Day!" before signing his name.



She's been giddy ever since. Mission accomplished.