40YrOldDad’s Christmas Advent Blog Post

Photo on 15-12-12 at 2.01 PM #3

On the 8th day of Christmas my Facebook stalker, militant communists Aussie Dad Bloggers gave to me – a story about why men can’t see sh#t, right in front of their face. You asked, we answer… in the Christmas spirit, us Aussie Dad Bloggers are answering the questions raised by readers.

Q: “Are men ACTUALLY visually impaired when it comes to locating objects inside the home?”

The short answer…NO.

The slightly longer answer…NU-UH.

Trust me, there’s plenty of objects inside the home we have absolutely no trouble locating with our eyes closed. The corner of the coffee table in our shin, the die-cast metal hot-wheels car underfoot, our own playground equipment downstairs.

Men are like dolphins, and use echo location sonar to find objects we can’t see. Dolphins use a series of clicks and whistles to locate objects underwater like fish, sunken treasure and universal remote controls. Men use a slightly more complex version of sounds such as, “Where’s the bloody car keys?” or “What happened to the potato masher?” With dolphins, the sonar bounces off the objects and back to the dolphin, helping him to determine it’s location. With men, the sound bounces back in a more female tone such as, “Did you try looking in the kitchen drawer?” or “They’re right in front of you on the bench!”

However…if you are a theoretical physicist or even a keen fan of Doctor Who, then you will no doubt realise there is an actual phenomenon that exists in the universe, known as “Brittany Spears” or in scientific terms…

“Temporal Displacement”

Which sounds like something you do when you momentarily lose your mind, or skim rocks off Japanese battered fish…wait…that’s tempura. (Really, I thought was a car?)

But in reality, there are tiny wormholes in space and time and the universe is simply teeming with them. As the earth spins through space, it collects these temporal displacement wormholes like a spat out Cool Mint collects lint. And certain objects are placed in their path like car keys, tin openers, nail clippers, remote controls, socks, pacifiers, did I mention car keys? And of course…car keys.

Kind of like when you accidentally suck your wife’s earring into the vacuum cleaner by mistake, or your son swallows a penny. For all intents and purposes, it has temporarily been removed from the present, only to be returned a small time later in the not too far off distant future. And that’s why we can’t see them. It’s not our fault…it’s the universe.

So, men are simply the hapless victims of temporal displacement…or God’s just f@#ing with us.

But universal subatomic string theory aside, some men (like me), occasionally wear glasses.

So, it can be argued that there is a certain level of visual impaired-ness among men, that the universe just cannot account for.

Male visual impaired-ness relates to a variety of categories, such as…

MEASUREMENT: 3-5 inches is…a foot, (either your man is trying to bolster his own ego, or wears tiny sneakers).

HOUSE REPAIR: Actual time to perform repairs…5 mins. Actual time to getting around to actually perform said repairs…6 months – 20 years.

LISTENING: I know listening isn’t a visual impaired-ness, but if we’re not looking at you, we’re probably not listening. Men listen with their eyes, not their ears. So, make sure we can see you so at the very least, we can read your lips.

READING LIPS: Men cannot read lips.

PRIORITIES: Family ALWAYS comes first, before anything else. (Excluding sport, alcohol, watching sport while drinking alcohol, drinking alcohol while playing sport, anything related to electronics, procrastinating, talking about procrastinating, Mythbusters, monster trucks, ourselves, Bigfoot or…boobs).

Which only goes to show, there’s no accounting for good taste, universal laws or people who don’t keep track of their receipts.

So, I hope that clears things up. Remember, it’s not your man’s fault…(cue Milli Vanilli)…”Blame it on the (substituting “rain” for “universe”, “Einstein”, “Stephen Hawking” or “The Big Bang Theory”).

Merry Christmas, y’all 😆

Psst: Oh and hey, be sure to check out the other Daddy Blogger Advent Posts on our Facebook page here at Aussie Daddy Bloggers.

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Aussie Daddy Blogger Advent Calendar Challenge 2012

Well, the Aussie Daddy Blogger Kris Kringle Advent Calendar Challenge 2012 has kicked off into high gear with some surprising questions and answers that make 50 Shades of Grey look like a Greeting Card. So, rather than repost everything here, it’s easier to see it all under one roof, (just like a Daddy Expo or dare I say…Exposé?).

So, for all the weird and wacky, click on the Official Daddy Blogger Seal for the full rundown of hilarious posts by our uniquely minded, Aussie Daddy Bloggers.

With contributions from BIG FAMILY, little income, Reservoir Dad, The Melbourne Dad, Being A Dad, daddownunder, Torkona, The Illiterate Infant, TackleNappy, 3am Dad and myself (who was that masked man?), you’re guaranteed to never be short of a smile or at the very least, a curious eyebrow raise. So, jump on over and take a “look-see”, then watch out for my post on December 21st where I’ll definitely have some things to say about…stuff’n’that as I unlock the secrets to the universe…(and drive it around a bit without my parent’s knowing).

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The Twelve Days of Christmas Dad’s

When the NorthPole’s Dirty Dozen conjured the lyrics to the 12 Days of Christmas, how little did they realise that years later, that idea would be pilfered by a group of Dad’s from Downunder.

In the style of the traditional Advent Calendar, for the next 12 days of Christmas, twelve Daddy Bloggers will be posting the answers to life, the universe and everything, as asked by YOU. (Well, maybe not YOU specifically, but possibly someone who looks very much a lot like you…but smells different, or drives a similar car).

There will be one post from each Daddy on each day and with this lineup…

BIG FAMILY little income, Illiterate Infant, Being a Dad, TackleNappy, Torkona, daddownunder, Reservoir Dad, Melbourne Dad, 40YrOldDad, 3am Dad

You could be left wondering…just how secure is our future?

So, stay tuned and enjoy the rantings complaints musings of my fellow Dad Bloggers. Look out for our Official Daddy Blogger Advent Calendar Posts featuring this official seal.

Click here for the Official Aussie Daddy Bloggers Facebook Page.

And remember…

We ARE among you…and we’re raising your kids!!!

Merry Christmas 😉

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A Bit Less Than Everything

Well, I guess it was inevitable that this day would come.

For close on ten years, our worlds have revolved around each other. She is the world to me and I am the world to her. Soul mates. The love of each other’s lives and we would tell each other every single day…

“I love you more than ANYTHING.”

And that still holds true.

The birth of our beautiful son only helps to cement those feelings even further…

Buckling our little man into his car seat this morning for a quick Mummy/Bubba visit with Granny, his beaming smile…uh…“beaming” back at us, we kissed and embraced in the garage, our usual fond farewells. My love squeezed me tight and whispered lovingly in my ear…

“I love you more than ANYTHING…except him“.

THE CROWD ROARS!! — As she knocks it out of the ball park!

Translation:

I LOVE YOU…a bit less than everything.

We laughed hysterically.

(But somewhere on a tiny island in my heart…Jeff Probst snubbed my torch out).

Way to make me feel Number Two.

And with a cocked eye-brow and a cheeky wink, she smiles…

“I can’t be disingenuous with you. You can’t tell me you don’t feel the same way, that he’s the most important thing in your life?”

And while my mouth said, “No”, my heart said…

“Shit.”

She’s right. The only difference is…I would never actually say that. I prefer to keep my feelings…in writing…on the internet…for all of prosperity…or until the server goes down in the great Skynet Battle against the machines sometime in the distant future.

The fact remains, the scales of balance are tipping in his favour. Tipping? Who am I kidding? The scale has already tipped so far in his direction, it’s doing cartwheels down the hill.

And as I process this further, to say to each other “I love you…a bit less than everything”…from his perspective, means…

“I love you…a little more than nothing”.

And THAT, is so far from the truth…you need the Hubble Space Telescope to see it.

The Lone Ranger

“A fiery horse with the speed of light, a cloud of dust and a hearty “Hi Ho Silver, Away!”

It’s amazing how much easier it is to sleep without all the usual gurgling, farting, snorting, cooing, squeaking, squawking that normally goes on of an evening. And now that Indy’s in his own room at the other end of the house…he shouldn’t be able to hear any of it!

That’s right, Indy has saddled up his trusty steed and headed out west to the open pastures of his Big Boy Cot on the sweeping plains (or at least, some light vacuuming), of his very own room. And although he’s still sleeping for about the same length of time (every 3-4 hours), it has improved the quality of sleep, somewhat.

Not his…ours.

And in the few minutes of actual sleep that we do get, it seems to be a much deeper sleep. Which is why my wife sounds like Barry White(and I sleep with one eye open).

But just because he’s now up the other end of the house, does not mean he’s out of sight nor out of mind (though at times, it feels like both of us are out of the latter). We still manage to keep a close eye and ear on him, as well as monitor every farty-party aspect of his behaviour, through the ever watchful eyes and ears of the Baby Monitor.

Indy’s time in the Big Brother HOUSE has begun.

And the monitor we bought way back when at the Baby And Toddler Expo (see post here), has some cool features like infra-red video, audio, temperature readout, lullaby music control and night light, all controlled from our handset. It does have another function that was probably good in theory, but not so much in practice. It’s a Push-to-Talk feature. In other words, you can push a button and talk to Indy to calm him down when he’s upset, from the warmth and comfort of our own bedroom, kind of like an intercom. HOWEVER…you can’t hear s#*t, when his air-raid siren is blaring. So, in essence, it’s just like the phone coverage we get from 3 and Vodaphone. We stand there yelling into the damn thing until we just give up and text each other or walk over and talk to each other in person.

And the other thing I discovered about having Indy in his own room, is sneaking out of the room when he’s asleep is a lot like stepping off a land-mine or diffusing a bomb. You move slowly and stealthily. You’re under the exact same pressure to leave that room quietly, as you are asking yourself, “do I cut the red wire or the green wire?”

Because all it takes, is one wrong step and…

KABLOOEY!!!

It’s back to square one for you.

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Swanee How I Love You How I Love You My Dear Old Swanee

What an amazing year so far. Plenty of exciting times and a few bumps along the way. There’s been highs and lows, heartbreaks and tears. Moments of pure and utter joy and others tense with stress and disappointment. All culminating in the most anticipated and stressful 2 hours of our journey together so far.

I’m not talking about Indy. I’m talking about…

The 2012 AFL Grand Final

And the tremendous journey of our beloved, Sydney Swans!!

And what a journey it has been this year. I won’t bore you with the details (too late), but after spending a majority of weeks on top of the AFL ladder, it seems only right that after knocking off Adelaide in the first final, we got to face off against our arch nemeses, Collingwood (see: Mamma’s team), for a shot at the Grand Final. After suffering 10 straight losses to Collingwood (see: wash my mouth out with soap), to finally get up and defeat them by 26 points in the Swans’ Jude Bolton’s 300th Career Game, to give us a shot at the Grand Final in the same year that my son was born (take a breath before I explode)…is the stuff that dreams and Hollywood Movies are made of.

Made more so by the fact that I now get to share my love and support of the Swans, with my boy. A privilege that until now, was something that I only shared with my Grandfather. And with him, no doubt, watching the Grand Final with eager anticipation from on high, I’m sure he will be just as proud to see the tradition shared with me and my son, down here.

And the reason my son is a Swans supporter is this. The simple fact of the matter is, Mamma can live with Indy being a Swans supporter, but there’s NO WAY ON EARTH can I live with him being a Collingwood supporter. Case closed.

And it’s been simply marvellous to share our triumphant journey together each week. Watching the games together and drilling the Club song into his little mind (and subconsciously penetrating Mamma’s mind as well: rubs diabolical hands together…hee, hee, hee, all part of my cunning plan).

But the best part is, in the past, the Collingwood/Swans rivalry has always divided us as a family. My brother, his wife and of course my wife, all barrack for Collingwood. And even though the Swans finally got up to beat them for a shot at the Grand Final, The Hatfield and McCoy’s have saluted a truce and offer their allegiance and support for ONE GAME ONLY…

The 2012 Grand Final against Hawthorn on Saturday.

And it’s ONLY because of Indy. (There’s some great pics of Indy’s Uncle supporting his nephew’s Premiership campaign below).

But where one rivalry ends (temporarily), another begins…

My cousin is a Hawks supporter and he too, has a new son, and you guessed it…he’s a hereditary Hawthorn supporter.

So, this weekend, it’s definitely on…for YOUNG and OLD.

And nothing would be more glorious, the icing on my cake, than to have a Premiership Win AND the birth of my son, all in the same year.

So, if not for me, at least…think of the children.

Do it for Indy.

GO SWANS!!!

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Tears Of A Clown

The moment all Dad’s dread has finally reared it’s head…

Falling face-first into an old Egyptian tomb and coming eye-to-eye with a deadly cobra!

That is, if YOU are Indiana Jones and the deadly cobra is…

Taking care of the baby…ON YOUR OWN!

WHAAAT???

Okay, time to put everything you learned from reading those “How to look after a tiny person that isn’t yourself” type books, into practice. (Is now a good time to reveal I was actually reading comic books disguised in a Baby Book dust jacket?)  Books I didn’t read like Rich Dad Poor Dad, which I assume is all about life before and after having kids. How to Alienate Friends and Exclude People by Dale Carnegie and his followup book, For One Second Can We Talk About Something Other Than The Baby? And not to be outdone, today’s current best seller…Fifty Shades of Brown.

Books-schmooks. I have life experience and instincts on my side...(as well as fries and onion rings).

And as my wife’s car becomes a tiny dot on the driveway horizon, I feel the cobra’s shadow looming over me.

But prepped with a blazing torch and gallons of fuel (milk) on hand, I’m all set to grab this challenge by the bullwhip and get crackin’.

And nothing could be smoother until…

He woke up.

Like a deer in headlights or Sam Neill faced against a ravenous T-Rex, I’m frozen to the spot and pray that if I don’t move, he won’t see me. And as prepared as I am, the one thing he’s not used to, is having to wait 5 minutes to be fed. Usually, when he’s hungry he has instant access to the pantry, no download lag time, no queueing at the DMV, nothing. It’s a simple FLIP-FLOP-POP system. FLIP the shirt up, FLOP the boob out and POP him on. But feeding with daddy is like interviewing via satellite. There’s a slight 5 minute delay while I heat up the bottle.

And when I’m holding him in my arms, he’s no problem. But I can’t hold the baby in one arm and shake and test the temp of the milk in the other. So, I have to put him down in his bouncer while I test the waters. And as each minute passes, so does his reaction:

(1) No rush. I don’t mind waiting.

(2) Take as long as you like daddy, I know you’re doing you’re best.

(3) I am a little peckish, if you wouldn’t mind speeding things up a bit.

(4) What’s the holdup? Don’t make me come over there.

(5) Gimme my milk, b#tch!!

And finally, when the milk is ready and I scoop him up to save the day. My heart breaks as I see before me…

His very first teardrop

Trickling down his little face.

Awww. Our little man is growing up. He’s started producing tears and no doubt, the subtle art of…emotional manipulation.

And if you think for one second that either of us will give in and be fooled by that?…

It works every time 😉