Sinking in a Winter Wonderland...

Knee deep in the snow, I stand, immobile, immersing myself into the silence offered by my pristine surroundings. It is tempting to use the phrase “dead silent” as there are few signs of life. Yet despite the blanket of snow which dominates every inch in my vicinity, suffocating life beneath it, I know full well it is only a temporary state of affairs. In the distance, just beyond the conifer sporting a tall, white hat lies a portion of the Georgia Straight, shimmering golden thanks to a few of the partially hidden sun's shafts reflecting onto the waters. The sky above is predominantly overcast, except for a single brilliant strip of blue sky close to the horizon. The contrast is striking and the sheer clarity of the blue reminds me of my baby boy's magnificent eyes.

Gabriola Island is a winter wonderland. Normally a vivid, soggy green due to rain, the cedars, ferns, bushes are all weighed down by several inches of the magical, fluffy white stuff. Why even the giant gunnera which set such a lovely backdrop for our wedding a few months ago are completely buried under the weight of the snow. I, for one, could not be happier about these odd weather patterns, Then again, I am not in the city and I don't have to leave the house except to go out and play. And I'm not stuck in an airport either. Another being that keeps welcoming more and more falling flakes is Flea. Her deer-like bounding through the forest - as natural as if she had done it her whole life - is a sight to behold. Few Taiwanese street dogs are able to boast about the thrill of bounding through snow two-feet deep. Supposing she went back for a visit and was hanging out with some of her old buddy's, how would she even begin to describe the experience to her canine pals back home?

I've been on vacation for less than a week and already I'm fearing a return to a working man's routine. Ah, the luxury of time. Time to write, time to play with Kael, time for long walks in the woods, time to listen to music, time for just sitting around – that's what the holidays are all about. And of course the holidays are about family. It's only natural that I think of my own family firmly entrenched in winter's grasp in Ontario and Quebec. At least with a blanket of white covering everything, not to mention the constant worry over driving conditions hovering in the air, it really “feels” like Christmas in BC this year. I heard on the news that it will the first time since the 1970s that Canada will enjoy a white Christmas coast to coast. That is definitely something to celebrate.

This will be Kael's second Christmas experience. Last year, he – I mean, we – were given the best gift ever in the form of a jiggling chair that shook our colicky little guy into a comatose on Christmas day. It sounds mean, but we were all better off with him a little more “relaxed”. And as the picture shows, the stocking was bigger than he was. This year, he will at least match the stocking in size - if not outsize it. He will also be more aware that something extraordinary is happening, though he is still won't quite get it. Proof came when he was exploring around the tree and tried to use one of his presents as leverage . His hand pierced right through, and with a simple lift of the loose paper he could have had a sneak preview of his gift. Yet instead of stealing a glimpse, he merely ignored it and continued with his original plan: to grab the shiny ornament hanging on the tree and stick it in his mouth.

The fact that he is not yet interested in the gift part of Christmas is a blessing because in our family, as with many of you who do celebrate, it promises to be very low key year in the gifting department. And that's fine with me. Michele calls me a scrooge for having this attitude, but the truth is that I do find it difficult to summon that Christmas spirit. Maybe it's because I'd rather be inspired to give rather than pressured to do it. And the barrage of same old tunes everywhere (none of which is James Brown Funky Christmas) and the same old sentimental movies on Tv don't help one iota. 2008 is teaching us that it takes a recession – a forcing of the hand – for us to realize that it isn't the gifts that makes us happy during the holidays, but the time off. For his part, Kael is oblivious to the point where we could wrap up his existing toys and he wouldn't know the difference. Of course, I'm not so frugal as to not get him anything, but the truth is, the kid is happy to run around house which offers plenty of space and dive bomb down the staircase. Toys at this particular stage in his development, do not interest the lad.

Well, let's see what is on today's to do list:

1)perfect the snow angel
2)gulp excess amounts of hot chocolate with a hint of Bailey's
3)listen to Brazilian music for contrast
4)nap just for the hell of it
5)use the time to send out positive vibes to all friends and family scattered around this planet

Much love to one and all

oj

Philosophical Funk - Vol 1

There may be no decade that is easier to make fun of than the 1970s: bell bottomed slacks, afros, ludicrously large cars, loud-coloured clothing etc. Yet as ridiculous as some of these styles to emerge from that bygone era were, there was also something fantastically important to come out of the 70s: funky music. And the more one delves deep into the funk music library, the more often one hears the the same shared themes of equality, moral righteousness, togetherness and openness, which only add to the funky beats. The message is in the music.

Every song included in this mix espouses a sound philosophy. Listen hard, my friends, because these are words to live by and to groove to. Just copy and paste the URL link below, look for the "click here to start download", and you're good to go! And if you're looking to get real nerdy about the selected music and its relevant philosophy, the playlist with added comments can be found below.

www.mediafire.com/?m5zydthmygd'

My only wish is that this mix brings joy, positive energy and a little reflection to your life as you bring in the new year, wherever you are.

oj


Funk Philosophy – Vol 1.

1)Kool and the Gang – Heaven at Once

On a side which includes heavyweight tracks such as Jungle Boogie, Hollywood Swinging, Funky Stuff and More Funky Stuff, Kool decided to break things down with this cheesy dialogue. Or is it? And when asked, “What are you doing to make things right?”, Kool answers, “You see, we are scientists of sound/mathematically throwing it down”. Amen to that, Kool.

2)Skowa & Mafia – Deus Me Faca Funky (God Made me Funky)

A cover of the Headhunters classic by Brazilian outfit Skowa & Mafia. God made me funky is simply another way to say, we are born to create.

3)Isaac Hayes – Do Your Thing

We lost a good soul earlier this year when Isaac Hayes passed away at the age of 65. In this classic track, he lets us know that whatever it is we want/need to do in order to be happy – whether screamin' to let off steam or makin' love all night – to just do it.

4)Chocolate Milk – Action Speak Louder Than Words

The first thing you hear is the guiro, then the slow, heavy groove kicks in and, well, it's on. Lots of talk in this world, but as the saying goes talk is cheap.

5)The Meters – People Say (Rejuvenation)

Bar none, one of the top funk bands of all time. Drums, bass, guitar and keys, the no frills basics of The Meters is often mimicked, but never duplicated. It's a sure bet they'll be another Meters track on volume 2, but can you guess which one?

6)The O'Jays – For The Love of Money

As the economy enters its own funk, the O'Jays remind us how money changes us in ways we often aren't even aware of. As we all strive to make that mean green, how many of us stop to think about what is essential to our happiness? If it involves possessing lots of it while accumulating possessions, it may be time to re-evaluate .

7)James Brown – Take Some and Leave Some

“I don't want it all/ I just want a little bit”. James Brown at his funky buddhist best. Nuff said.

8)Kool and the Gang – Life is What you Make it

We often feel swept away by the forces around us, but Kool reminds us that we are the ones who create our lives. Whatever your situation, the choices you've made have got you there, and the choices you make will alter your reality. You can pretend that it's all beyond your control, but the truth is, it's all on you, in every moment of every day.

9)The Universals – New Generation

Some of the finest funk to ever come out of Florida, this 1970 recording never found its way to the distributor and was released in 2006 by Jazzman records. Too bad, that generation could have used it.

10)Mandrill – Positive Thing

Funk-rock heavyweights Mandrill released this gem in 1974. The simple message of love and togetherness is delivered with an ultra-heavy groove and accentuated by punchy, catchy horns.

11) Skull Snaps – It's a New Day

The instantly recognizable beat at the beginning sets the tone for this classic promoting positivity and new beginnings.

12)Charles Watts and 103rd Street Rhythm Band – Express Yourself

Sampled and popularized by NWA in the early 90's, Charles Watts and company urges us all to tap into our creative selves with this soulful groove.

13)Notations – Superpeople -

A Curtis Mayfield sounding joint whose message is perhaps even more relevant than the day it was written. In a world of egos gone wild, it's time to get grounded.

14)Donald Byrd – Change (Makes You Wanna Hustle)

Touching on the topic of impermanence, Donald Byrd reminds that “nothing stays the same/things just rearrange”. With his distinctive horn and use of funky strings, Byrd encourages us to act rather than sit there and be overwhelmed when life changes course.

15)BT Express – Do It (Till You're Satisfied)

Many will recognize the much sampled intro to this danceable track which, like Do Your Thing, encourages us to follow our dream, whatever it is.

16)Brass Construction – Movin'

This song is about getting your shit together and feeling groovy because of it.

17)People's Choice – If You're Gonna Do It (Put Your Mind To It)

This Philadelphia outfit reminds us not to do things half-assed. If you gonna do it, might as well put your mind to it.

18)The Isley Brothers – Fight the Power (part 1)

With “all of the bullshit going down”, the Isleys remind us to not give up the fight against those who insist on keeping the status quo for their own personal benefit rather than for the good of the whole.

19)Gerardo Pino – Shake Hands

Bought this one in a record store in downtown Nairobi (AKA Nairobbery), this is by far the rarest track of the bunch. It's moody, raw African groove about unity.

20)Black Heat – Love the Life You Live

If you don't get sent into orbit by this intense cover of the Kool and Gang original, then you need to get yourself checked out (or checked in!). The brilliant chorus' lyrical reversal of “love the life you life/so you can live the life you love” says it all.

21)Brass Construction – Take It Easy (Kenny Dope Mix) –

In times of stress, Brass Construction offers some sage advice: relax our minds and take it easy. You ain't gonna solve anything by stressing out about it! Brew up a bowl of mate if you need some help relaxin' that busy mind of yours.

22)Frankie Beverley's Raw Soul – Color Blind

Pre-Maze Frankie Beverley confronts racism in this track, wondering why we get so caught up on the colour of skin. Shouldn't we all be colour-blind by now?

23)Roy Ayers – People and the World

A plea for all of us to make the world a better place by living together by the living legend himself, the preacher of love and goo vibes, Bid Daddy Roy.

24)Earth, Wind and Fire – Shining Star

Every single person has the potential the shine and no one says it better than Earth, Wind and Fire in this funk-disco classic from 1975.

25) Tower of Power – Only So Much Oil

This jazz-funk brass powerhouse from Oakland warned us back in 1975 of our limited oil supply. Given the controversy surrounding oil prices and supplies that exist here in 2008, not to mention a war over it, maybe it's time finally time to listen.
Veggie fuel anyone? www.mofilms.org (Freedom Fuels)


26)Cymande – The Message

Among the best funk bands to ever emerge out of England, Cymande's bass-heavy grooves are complemented by soulful voices with rastafarian messages of peace and unity. “Together, we can grow/Forever, like it was before”.

27)Ellen Mcllwaine – Higher Ground

A riveting cover of the Stevie Wonder track featuring Mcllwaine's unique vocal stylings along the lines of Janis Joplin accompanied by some amazing bluesy guitar work. An unforgettable version of a song that encourages us to persist until we reach that next level of consciousness.

28)George Carlin – Values

Another great human soul was lost in 2008 when George Carlin passed on to the great gig in the sky. Think about it: What will you do with $10 and what would you do for $10? The revolution indeed is about values. RIFP (rest in funky piece, George)

All Hail Kael (#1)

(In the tradition of Cliff)

All hail Kael
Who today turns one
Congrats on being the first Pady male,
The first Chrishele Blady bun.

You emerged from the womb
On a rainy day in November
Into a forgettable hospital room
Gifting us a memory to remember forever.

You cried and cried and cried
All through the first fourteen weeks.
We lied and lied and lied
Saying all was good - even though it was a little bleak.

We tried myriad ways
To calm you down and console you.
But nothing would eliminate the greys
Prompting Dad to exclaim: "The kid is inconsolable!"

And then one miraculous morning,
A grand grin suddenly spread wide across your face.
It came from nowhere, without warning
To light up our tiny, little place.

From that momentous moment on
The "K-man" has been a happy boy.
His mysterious blues are long gone
An empty yoghurt container his favourite toy.

He's got big blue eyes
And wrist and ankle bracelets too.
Everyday he drops off a stinky surprise
In his wearable loo.

He doesn't yet talk, but he likes to babble
Recounting his day's adventure's before sleep.
He doesn't yet walk, but he does like to straddle
Getting studier by the day on those little feet.

Kael puts anything and everything into his kisser
Including mud, rocks and random dangerous things.
And when momma leaves the room, he sure does miss her
Wailing so loud it makes poor Daddy's ears ring.

He's an EXTREMELY active baby
Which sometimes drives mom a bit mad.
He sneakily gets into all the places he shouldn't be,
As if it were the latest fad.

He's headstrong and determined
And knows exactly what he wants.
Sometimes his parents' patience grows so thin
They consider shipping him off to Vermont!

Of course, we would never do that
Because K-man, you bring us too much joy.
Even if you occasionally drive us to the edge of the vat
You will always be our precious boy.

We look forward to seeing you blossom
In your second year on the planet.
May your next year simply be "totally awesome"
And, well, full of joy damn it!

Diaper Changing is the New Gym

I used to scoff at people who moaned about the difficulty of changing diapers. What's the biggy? Your wee angel just lies there on the changing table, sedate, patiently staring at you with adoring eyes, until the new diaper is secured and clothes are back on. What is so hard about that? It wasn't until Kael was six months old - the age where we first introduced solid foods – that I began to realize what all the stink was about. Along with the most potent smelling of daily poos, our angel turned into a little ball of pent-up energy as he began to explore the art of movement. Apparently, stagnant is boring. He's got a point, but did he have to figure it out so quickly? With every squeal, screech and kick on the changing table, I can't help but wonder if the funky president himself, James Brown, was reincarnated into the Kman.

Whereas changing diapers or clothes used to be cinch, it has turned into a dreaded duel. He wriggles like a fish, twists into pike position with the grace of an Olympic diver, struggles with the ferocity of a caged tiger, and protests as loudly as a howler monkey; in short, he is slowly driving Maman and Papa insane. Recalling Jon's words of wisdom, a proud papa himself, “distraction is key”, I conjure up a toy he can stick into his mouth or attack him with an unexpected zerbert, providing a momentary break for my sobbing, pleading eardrums. And yet, the distractions never lasts long enough to finish the job. Before I know it, he is on his tummy threatening to launch himself over the edge of the changing table like Blondin in a barrel.

I've meditated on ways to sedate him, from tranquilizer shots (what!? they do it to elephants), straightjacket (thereby also eliminating the need to change clothes), to good old fashioned shackles. And don't be fooled by their miniature statures, babies can be very strong. In fact, after a few months more of training, I do believe myself ready to enter the next Stampede. Those calves have nothing that our “determined” boy can't dish out.

Now just over 10 months, the evolution of the K-man is progressing at a fast and furious rate. He learned first to pull himself up into a sitting position. Not a week later, he had hoisted himself up to a standing position using the window sill. The first time he succeeded, he turned around with a wide grin, wildly happy with himself because he was able to look out the window. His current favourite trick is to get himself into standing position, and then slowly dangle one arm out, as if publicly demonstrating his amazing prowess to the world. Check me out! A couple of times, he has thrown caution to the wind (I wonder where he gets that from...) and just lets go completely, wavering in the air for a few nano seconds of hang time, before losing balance and plopping back down to earth landing on his bottom with a thud that would be sure have papa sitting on a rubber donut for several weeks. Of course, you can't learn without falling flat on your face so we will undoubtedly witness many more bonks, close calls, and fortunate landings in the months to come to go along with the scratches that already adorn his chubby cheeks.


Baby proofing our cubicle of a home has been challenging to say the least. Nothing that is beyond grasp will escape from his persistent little hands. More amazingly, I'm beginning to suspect our boy has telepathic powers because he seems to have the uncanny ability to beeline towards whatever object I'm thinking to myself I hope he doesn't go for. “Not the mate, not the mate...shit!” Anything and everything that you don't want him to grab turns into his main target. Supervising Kael is not like being a lifeguard because you actually have to be aware and present of the baby's actions at ALL times. We are forced to constantly shift, rearrange, toss, move and hide things or they end up in his mouth or spilled onto the floor. And even though we went out and bought him some fancy Fisher Price toys that take up more space than our furniture, his favourite toy continues to be Flea's red and black sequenced dog leash. He loves to just sit there and twirl it around like a ribbonist (can you tell the Olympics are still fresh from my similes) before inserting the metal clip on the end in his mouth, After all, who doesn't love a good bite on something metallicky to quench that...what the hell does that quench for him anyways?

And speaking of chewing, he now has six teeth with which to munch his meals with. And he now insists in his determined way to eat by himself, refusing to depend on us parental units for delivery anymore. So we do what all parents must eventually do – give in. And so we plop a mound of mixed up food onto his tray, and watch as he reaches for a handful and then shoves it in the general direction of his mouth. Initially, maybe 10% of the grabbed nourriture made it to his mouth. The leftover after a feeding session would have been enough to feed an ant colony for an entire year. Lately though, I have to admit, he's getting pretty good as his manual dexterity improves. He still winds up with food in his ears, hair and worst of all, up the nose (broccoli up the nose really tickles, you know) but Flea isn't exactly getting a full second meal courtesy of Kael anymore.

Finally, the dreaded period of disciplinary action has begun. I despise discipline. Never wanted to enforce it - even as a teacher. But just as it is crucial to instill in the classroom for there to be any productivity, you must also ingrain it into your children so you don't wind up with spoiled brats. The Kman has definitely reached the age of mischief with intent and therefore instilling discipline early could save us much chagrin in the future.




Flea and Kael's relationship is a one-way affair, but in the opposite direction from what it used to be. In the beginning, Kael would ignore Flea as if she never existed, going on about his business without even acknowledging her presence. My how times have changed. Poor Flea can no longer get a moment's rest without Kael's face lighting up at the prospect of grabbing onto her fur and then beelining as fast and as determined as he can. The maniacal grin that paints his face reminds of Jack Nicholson in the Shining. Flea simply growls, gets up and moves. The scene then repeats itself dozens and dozens of times in the span of a few minutes. The real issue is that there really aren't many options for poor Flea. And now that winter approaches, the outside getaway will no longer be viable either. This has been going on for weeks now with no sign of either one of them ready to change their ways. Again, I don't think Flea will actually ever hurt him, but she does growl pretty deeply whenever he approaches and has come close a couple of times when Kael grabs a hunk of her fur not-so-tenderly- receiving severe reprimand from both mama and papa bear afterwards.

All in all, I'm so in love with my family. Kael's eyes are no less mesmerizing, Flea's no less wonderfully ferral and Michele is no less beautiful and funny in her role as mother. Things may not be perfect in terms of job, house, finances and whatnot, but we've got love and that overrides all else. Now let's hope that we can get rid of this cold virus we've passing back and forth to each other for the past few weeks so we can have our health back to!

I'll leave you with a quote from Alan Watts, which of course made me think of my little guy when he's in the stroller just staring around in amazement at the world going on around him. I just hope I can play a part so that some of that wonder and curiosity never leave him completely.

“Wonder, and its expression in poetry and the arts, are among the most important things which seem to distinguish men from other animals, and intelligent and sensitive people from morons.”

oj

Mr Mom

Regret, mixed with a hint of humour of the “how could I have been so stupid” nature, is written all over Michele's face as she lays down on the floor, staring upwards at the ceiling. It's the quiet moment after the an action-packed sequence of events.

Kael was in crib, gregarious for well over half an hour: “What is it with these people, George? Can't they tell I don't want to sleep? I'm clearly letting the out the 'I'm not tired screech”. Grrr, my parents are so dumb!” Finally, the dialogue dimmed until it was silent. I had gone into his room stealthily to check out the situation and saw him twitching ever so slightly, eyes three-quarters closed. It is absolutely vital for him not to see you during this delicate phase of the nap process. If he does, it's game over. He's up and he's screeching with more vigour than you can possibly imagine coming from such a tiny little being. I tippy-toed back out of his room unnoticed, intending to close his door in a couple of minutes when there was no chance of a wake-up.

Unbeknowst by me, Michele reappears from our room and also decides to investigate the nap situation. She pokes her head in but cannot get a proper visual. She inches forward but still can't see as he is hidden from view at the front of the crib. She ventures further, risking much at this final stage before sleep. Suddenly, Kael perceives movement or hears something and with the quickness of gopher popping its head out of the hole, his head shoots up over the edge of the crib to see what's up. Michele panics, ducks and then lunges out of the room onto the floor as if she were an extra on A-team episode after Face had just launched a grenade nearby. Kael screams, as if to say, 'I saw you! I saw you!” “Merde”, is all Michele can say in a half-giggle/half-frustrated tone.

Later that afternoon, it's my turn to get caught. Kael has been in there about twenty minutes and there is the baby monitor expresses only the hum of the humidifier (used primarily to drown out other sounds). I sneak up to the doorway and bam! I'm dead in the water just like that. I didn't even get the chance to pretend I was a ninja tis time. It's like getting ambushed 1 minute into a paintball game. Splat! Hmm, that was fun. Kael happened to be positioned at the back of the crib, facing the doorway. In consolation, I never had a chance.

Mr Mom - Day 5

Groan. Quick glance at the clock. 6:02 .He has just been fed and should be going back to sleep like he does most every other morning. But he isn't. We gambled last night by staying up a little later so we could finally spend a little alone time together, and now we are being burned for it. No one ever said life was fair... Neither one of us is in the mood to officially get up and out of bed just yet so we decide to bend the rules a bit this morning by bringing him into our bed.

Not surprisingly, once sandwiched between us, he doesn't doze off instantly (he only sleeps in his crib now). He is too curious about his new surroundings – especially Daddy's hair, lips and cheeks. Gouging daddy's eyes is a particularly amusing activity, too. There is much staring at one another, like two people staring at the board wondering what their opponent's next move will be. His eyes are beautiful; they are oceans; mesmerizing; whirlpools I drown in over and over again. Yet, they hold no secrets as to what is going through that tiny, ever-growing seed of a brain. Poor Flea is jealous. Back in Taiwan, it used to be her that would be beckoned up on the bed to cuddle with us. Michele motions for her to come to the side of the bed, which Flea, the opportunist, interprets as an invitation to join the party on the bed. Ca y'est! The whole family is in bed. Fun, yes, but it won't satisfy that desire to sleep...

His schedule throughout the enire morning remains out of sync. He is uncharacteristically fussy and out of sorts. His teeth must really be bothering him. Great, only one more year of teething. It takes him 40 minutes of grappling with his bedmate, Curious George, interspersed with a few attempts at escaping, before he finally collapses from sheer exhaustion.

Our baby boy's day winds down after dinner with a daily bath. I think the purpose of the bath is to calm Kael down before sleep. That is not happening anymore. While he used to be content to lounge back, full stretch, sucking on a bath toy (all that was missing was some candles and a glass of wine) while papa held his head and momma wiped in all his nooks and crannies, he now uses bathtime as his aquafit session. Gone is the relaxed personna, having now been replaced by a much more animated K man who would rather march in the tub rather than lie down. Washing his hair, as you can imagine, becomes a challenging task to say the least. And the fact that he is getting stronger doesn't help matters either. There are times when I forcefully try to coax him to sit, but he just won't budge. I foresee trouble in the future...

After the bath, Kael is dried off and has his pj's put on, afterwhich he has a little feed. It is just about 8 pm. We perform the last leg of our nightly ritual - one which I have grown to adore - by forming a circle and singing him a gentle lullaby. Then we set him down in his crib, give him his blanky, tell him we love him and leave him to fall asleep on his own. After some talking and flailing - the duration varying by day – he finally lies peacefully in his world of vivid dreams. It's a sight beautiful enough to make this grown man cry.

Mr Mom - Day 4

We had our friend Steph come over to baby sit this morning so we could run an important errand for the wedding that we had to do together. Steph came precisely at the time she said she would. The problem with babies – in our adult minds anyways - is that they are inconsistent. To go one further, they are down right unpredictable. It makes it rather challenging in this world of schedules and time tables.

He had woken up in good enough spirits and happily eaten breakfast as usual. Afterwards however, he wasn't so interested in going back to sleep. He didn't look tired so I suggested maybe skipping a nap for once. Michele shook her head. “No way. If he starts making the rules, it's game over for us”. She's right, of course.

Miraculously, he fell asleep just prior to Steph's arrival. Predictably, it didn't last. Just as we were slipping our feet into our flip flops to head out, we heard the dreaded Kael wail come through loud and clear on the baby monitor. Sometimes those devices are just a little too good (ie cover your ears). Michele attempted to wield her most potent of mama magic to try to coax him back to sleep but it was no use. We decided to keep him up for another half hour and tried to put him back down again (as the author of Wiped noted, “put him down” is an awful term – springing to mind an old dog whose on its last legs - but I'm not sure how else to say it either). We warned Steph before we left that there was a definite possibility of a Kaelstorm brewing on the horizon. Sure enough, when we returned an hour later, our little guy was up and wired. Understandably, she could not handle leaving our baby boy screaming bloody murder in his crib. Steph felt bad. The truth is, she never stood a chance.

When his afternoon nap came around, he was out like a light. No wrestling with Curious George and no conversations with Sophie the giraffe. Bam! Out cold in seconds flat. Michele had just left for another appointment at 1 pm. When 2:30 came around, I started to get antsy. It's been an awfully long time, I thought to myself. I didn't really know what to do with myself at this point. I'd finished the important business and was hesitant to begin any new project because he'd be bound to wake up as soon as I begun. Should I just peek in to make sure he's ok? Just one quick glance? Thankfully I resisted all temptation and he finally rejoined the waking world at 3 o'clock much to my relief.

It seems like I just can't win. If he doesn't sleep long enough, I get frustrated by a lack of time to myself. On the other hand, if he sleeps too long, I miss him and want him to get up so bad that I get tempted to wake him up prematurely – something the books say never to do.

One final observation today ( I lied. I just thought of another one) has to do with his head whipping habit. When I'm holding him in my arms, he tends to look away. Everything and anything aside from me is most interesting to him. Or maybe he is hinting that I've got the dragon (listen to Biz Markie's classic song if you need schooling on what its meaning). Without warning, he'll often whip his gargantuan head around with the speed of a shot putter in full momentum just before release. Most of the time, if I'm paying attention, my reflexes are quick enough to move back just in time to hear the whoosh of his noggin fly right by the tip of my nose. But if I'm distracted, I have no chance and our heads collide. He doesn't even bat an eye. Meanwhile, I'm trying to hold back the tears. It friggin' hurts. I'll say it again: babies are tough, man.

Finally, something that'll make you go “awww”. It's something that happens outside. While playing in his playpen this afternoon, a sudden summer breeze swung through our patio that made Kael feel so fine that he stopped in mid-gum to absorb this scintillating natural phenomenon. At first, he couldn't understand what was making his thin hairs on his head dance in the air. But then he did was the majority of us adults don't do. He quit thinking about it and simply enjoyed it for what it was, letting the wind ruffle his hair in its heavenly way. Afterwards, he did not dwell on how amazing it felt either. He just continued playing like nothing even happened. He let it go. I thought that was amazing.

Mr. Mom - Day 3

Kael is so close to crawling it's scary. After rolling onto his stomach, he gets himself into the scorpion yoga position, craning his neck up as far as he can, and then tries to grunt himself forward. He gets nowhere fast. I'm quite sure he's not into yoga yet, despite the fact that everyone is in to yoga around here, as the severe grunting tells me he is not concentrating on his breathing whatsoever.

The fact that is on the verge of crawling is exciting, yes, but equally petrifying for we are not remotely close to having our little capsule that we call our apartment (think of one of those Japanese rent-a-room capsules filled to the brim with crap) ready for the epic day when he tears around the living room. All that is stopping him at this stage is sheer mass – he's carrying a little heavy at the moment. But make no mistake, it's coming.

They say you should get down on all fours to get the child's perspective when baby-proofing your place. I asked for Flea's input, as she's just about the same height, but she said there was nothing worth chewing on. After crawling around and repeatedly banging my head on the corner of the table, I was able to get a good handle on the possible hazards for out little ball of kinetic energy ready to burst. Tomorrow's mission then, is to start babyfying the pad.

Speaking of hazards, I was reading a book called Wiped! that Michele passed on to me during one of his morning naps (gee, tiring business being carried everywhere, having your food prepared for you, have someone dressing you and then playing). It's about a writer who shares her experience as the Mom of a newborn. It's very O.T.T. (over the top) and hyper dramatic for effect, but all in all I can sympathize with some of it and empathize with Michele for the rest of the more womanly aspects of it all,

At one point, she relates how she accidentally bumped her child's head against a projector on an airplane – hard. Afterwards, she stakes the claim that everyone unintentionally hurts their baby at least once. Well, I'll tell you that I would never... oh wait a second, I already got mine out of the way.

It happened a few weeks back when we were in the bath. I was struggling to hold him as he was standing up in his mini tub because he's not into the whole maxin' an' relaxin' in the bath while his servants scrub him down like he used to be. And if he had just stood there quietly, with relatively little motion, it wouldn't have happened. But the K man likes to wriggle as if someone was secretly sending mini shocks of electricity through his body at all times. Take a wild guess at what goes down next. Kael is leaning forward with all his strength, reaching for a toy, and my hand loses grip on his slick, slimy from soap frame. He tumbles forward, head colliding not so gently with the metal nozzle where the water comes out.

To her credit, Michele did not freak out even though she was sitting right there. Instead, she calmly snatched him, consoling him with soft words. Kael is crying but thankfully there are no piercing screams. I feel awful. Once safe in momma's arms, we hold him up for inspection. Oh yeah, we definitely have indentation. And is it just me, or does our nozzle have a funny shape? So it appears to be true. It's all about our reaction. If we remain calm, then so does he. Although babies may be fragile, they are also tough, man. Meanwhile, I remained mortified by the “slip up” for several minutes, apologizing profusely. “Sorry buddy. Is it really bad?”, I kept asking, “He'll be ok, won't he?” Of course he was and still is. Just glad I got mine over with early..

Mr Mom - Day 2

The morning passed uneventfully – that's a good thing these days. No Kaelstorms, only sunny skies blessed our apartment as it is did our city.

Our little guy is teething though. Aside from his chubby cheeks which are the colour of poppies, there was also another not so subtle sign when we put him down for a nap. Basically, he would square his jaw in such a way that it made him look like a grumpy old senior with constant arthritis. I couldn't figure out what was going on. “What's he doing?”, I wondered aloud. “His teeth, the ones we can't see yet on top, that are bothering him.” Sure enough, upon closer inspection, he was gnawing rhythmically on his upper gums with his two recent and sharp-edged bottom teeth. I guess it's like having a sore tooth, you keep wanting to touch it, just to make sure it still hurts (Ow!, yep). Babies don't think that way yet, do they? To help him out, Michele initiates what she calls the teething dance, alternating between a wet cloth, his teething ring (not to be confused with his preciouses that he gums when he eats) and a carrot every five minutes or so to soothe them until he tires out enough to doze off.

I was left in charge pretty much the whole afternoon as Michele took advantage of me being home to go to the mall to buy some things in preparation for the wedding. I did not want to go to the mall. In fact, I hate the mall. I don't hate many things, but the mall is one of them. If you ever want to see me grumpy, take me to the mall, on a Saturday, when it's a beautiful sunny day outside.

Lord K and I had lunch date on the patio, rolled around together on the floor, sang French songs, ate books, drooled lots, stared off into space together (he certainly picked up that personality trait from daddy) and did all that other every day normal stuff.

The big outing for the day consisted of a jaunt out to the local park to do something real summery: a trip to the water park. I was real good, remembering to apply baby sunscreen, bring his water bottle, put on his sun hat and even Flea-proof the house (she rummages through the garbage just to spite us when go out without her) before going. When we parked in the shade at the park, I stripped off his pants and beelined towards the screeching kids and spraying water. I anticipated a refreshing splash, but we both received a shock instead. The water felt like it was sourced directly from one of the melting ice caps. And if I found it freezing, I can only imagine that Kael's sensitive skin had his nervous system ringing the alarm bells. So instead of getting right in there, something I tend to be overly fond of doing, we hung out on the periphery, standing in a 2 mm deep puddle, happily watching the other kids play.

I was surprised that Michele still wasn't home when we returned. I felt mildly panic-stricken as I knew he needed another nap, but was also keenly aware that a nap is pretty much out of the question without momma's milk. Since he was already seemingly content in the stroller, I made a quick decision to grab Flea and keep moving. There was a time when he would fall asleep in the stroller, but those days are long gone. There's a whole world of sensory pleasures to explore now.

And then it happened, the one thing I dreaded most. He began to cry. What I thought was just his gangsta lean was more like the result of having squirmed himself into an uncomfortable sideways position that even a contortionist would have found awkward.

Can I tell you that nothing – no thing – stresses me out more than my baby crying? Can you tell I'm a new parent? I try to console him by putting on my happy voice and telling, “Hey little buddy, there's nothing to worry about. It's a beautiful day and all is right in the Universe”. He doesn't buy it. Apparently my Universe and his are in different galaxies. So I quicken the pace to an almost jog to try to get home as fast as possible while cooing “almost there, almost there”. Poor Flea doesn't even have a chance to poop. We make it home without incident, He is fussy but at least there is no storm to blemish this lovely afternoon. Mommy is home and it isn't long before he is suckling. All is well.

You know, it's funny. A several hundred thousand dollar transaction goes awry at work and it doesn't stress in my least, but when my baby boy lets out one single wail and my whole body, from head to toe, starts to panic.

Mr. Mom - Day 1

It's Monday and I'm at home. Weird. Kael is taking his afternoon nap so I am taking advantage of these precious few moments to write a few words about my first day on parental leave. Before making the decision, we debated about whether or not we could afford it as you only receive 55% of your salary – already meager earnings in the expense trap of Vancouver. But then I thought of it this way: how can I afford not to? Kael will only be a baby once so if I can find a way to spend some extra time with him now, while he is soaking it all in, then I've got to do it. Might as well use the sytem. And hey, if there is ever a time to be off work in Canada, it's in the summer.

When I told people at work that I was going to take time off to be with my son, reactions were mixed. Many of the women thought it was a wonderful idea; most of the guys saw it as an extended vacation.
Tell you what fellas, a vacation it is not. It's work. I never fooled myself for a second by thinking it would be cakewalk. Taking care of an 8 month old mini-me is in fact tireless work that never ceases. You can't take breaks when you want or take an extended lunch. Nope, one thing Michele has made abundantly clear is that it's all about the baby's schedule. He's my new boss.

Following a stormy 6 am wake up where only the boob would do, Kael's morning chatter began at 8 am, which was my cue to wake up. I think it translates to something along the lines of, “Hey, I'm up now. Should we get some breakfast? This plastic giraffe just isn't doing it for me anymore. Hey, I'm up now...”, whereas the 6 am screaming was more like, “I'M STARVING MY ASS OFF OVER HERE. I WANT SOME MILK NOW!” I have to say that I much prefer the 8 am Kman's morning show than my alarm going off at 4 am like it did when I was on the early shift. I sang the good morning song while I changed his diaper - weighing the equivalent of a bowling ball following a night of urination - and then brought him into the kitchen for breakfast.

I put on some baby French music, and then got his breakfast ready while he munched on his plastic rings in his highchair, which we have come to dub the “throne”. That then, makes Kael the Lord of the Rings. This is a duty I am comfortable with, by the way, as I have previously prepared his meals on weekends. So far, paternity leave feels like an extension of the weekend. I added water to his brown rice cereal and poured some prunes from a jar into a bowl et voilà, le petit déjeuner est prêt.

Eating is messy business. Perhaps I should have changed his white shirt beforehand... He is good eater, my little bruiser, ingesting all that we offer him in between breaks from chewing on his beloved rings. I noticed that he enjoys the blunt part of the spoon more than the end where we put the food. When the feeding session is over, he starts to get tired. I can tell because he rubs his eyes , without taking into account that his fingers are sticky and slushy from a mixture of pureed prunes and cereal mash, and he is still holding the rings with their serrated edges. That can't feel too good.

When breakfast is done, it's time to wake Mamma up so he can get a little milk before going straight back to bed. It seems odd behaviour for anyone who is not a teenager to sleep all night, wake up, eat and then go right back to sleep. When I questioned the logic, I was told that this is how it's done and that I should read the book baout sleep patterns (ie Sleeping Baby = Happy Mother ) before making any more comments.

So be it. I take advantage of my free time to take the dog out for a walk and enjoy the summer morning, repeating to myself the entire time, "Jeez, this sure does beat sitting at my computer, staring out the window wishing I was outdoors.”

As I enter through the gate leading to the front door after the stroll, I hear the familiar sound of baby crying. These days, it is the sound emanating from my apartment and not some other poor sucker's place like it used to. We are right in the middle of a Kaelstorm. Our wee man is teething and he is not so enthusiastic about it. It takes him an hour before he stops hiccuping from wailing so intensely in protest and calms down enough to fall asleep.

An hour and half later, Lord Kael awakens happy as a clam, as if the torture before slumber had never occurred. It's playtime. We let him roll around on the floor until his troglodyte grunts get very deep, which is his way of telling us to change up the program. I prop him up on his feet. He sways and staggers, reminding me of myself back in my univeristy days.

"Hey, what are you doing?", Michele suddenly yells from the bathroom, "It's lunchtime! We have baby group at 1 PM." Work, work, work. We all know who the real boss is. I tell Kael he is getting the prix fixe menu consisting of: mashed turkey, with mashed potatoes, mashed green beans and for dessert, you guessed it, mashed blueberries. Oops. Forgot to change that white top again before feeding him blueberries.

I get 15 minutes to myself after lunch to shave, shower and eat my own lunch. I guess that's my break.

At baby group, there a host of Moms sitting on mats watching over their fellow mini humans as they crawl clumsily around. Oh look, little Mary just accidentally gave little Ahmed a swift kick to the temple as she zoomed past. This is the cruiser group, that is, 6-12 months. I am the only man there, yet I am comfortable enough with my metrosexuality not to feel awkward. There are babies of all shapes and sizes enjoying each other's company, playing with toys, as new mother's chat away about the various calamities of caring for their respective cruiser. While the mother's converse, so do the babies, only their conversations consists of loud groans, squeals and squawks, something the mother's have all learned to ignore. I find it all very dizzying.

The guest speaker at baby group is a nutritionist here to enlighten us on finger foods. Similar to life, the key to learning how to eat for babies is by play and experimentation. We also learned that all food does not necessarily have to be mashed up into sludge and that giving Kael a third of a banana is fine, too. He acts as the test baby that all the other mothers observe. The nutritionist offers him the banana. which he accepts rather unenthusiastically. He admires its gushiness as he squishes it with his fingers. Then he hastily decides to shove into his mouth rather barbarically. “See”, the nutrtionist proudly exclaims, “he loves it!” Perhaps instead of his beloved rings, we will now start to give him finger foods to gnaw on instead.

By the end of baby group, Kael is overtired and needing of a nap. The rest of the day goes by smoothly, as dinner and bath time are old hat for me. Where did the time go? It's been constant, rewarding work so far. But I'm not doing it completely alone as my wife-to-be has done this entire time. And, the fact that I do not breastfeed makes my new job ten times easier. Kudos to all women who do it. Day 1 has been great. Let's see if I still feel the same way after Day 30.

amazing feets

“Oh my God, did you see that!? He actually picked it up. He must be the smartest baby in the world...” Michele

They say that love is blind. Based on my short foray into parenthood, I cannot argue. Why, just the other morning, while propping Kael up on his feet like a marionette, he stooped forwards and picked up his beloved peacock, then had to let go of it immediately upon standing erect again to retain balance. Astounding, non? Non? Well, believe it or not, it is to us. Minor and perfectly natural developments such as picking something up off the floor, become minor miracles highlights of the day to a new parent - especially when they are your child's first.

Another, um, more solid example, is pooing. Most of us, if we are lucky, spend several minutes of each day on the porcelain throne getting rid of food previously ingested. But Kael's digestive system, which is not yet running at full capacity, drops the kids off at the pool on a somewhat alarmingly irregular basis. In fact, he sometimes goes almost 12 days without excreting that excess waste festering in his young colon, which Doctor J assures us is not abnormal behaviour for breastfed babies*. Sure, it makes for less stink and mess to clean up, but on other hand, notre petit trésor is obviously uncomfortable during those periods when he's all bunged up. He gets cranky when he hasn't pooed in a while, as do you and I. So when at last I get that text message from Michele announcing “Poop there it is!” or something along those lines, a mix of elation and pride prompts me to involuntarily emit a boisterous “woohoo”. Afterwards, I must of course explain to my curious co-workers that I haven't won the lottery, but that my son has just defecated. Their blank, confused stares hint that they just aren't as impressed as I am.

I'm quickly finding out that parenthood, such as life, is all about the small victories.

Spring arrived early here in BC and the signs of blossoming and joy were everywhere, including our wee man. He is now fully awake and those big, blue eyes of his that even I can't help get lost in, reflect the tremendous growing curiosity he has for his surroundings. Just as Dr Karp had assured us, it took him a full three months to accept that he can't retreat back into the womb and that this outside world is here to stay. Besides, maybe he's starting to realize that his parental units aren't that evil after all...The hair dryer was officially retired in March, though it still sits in the same spot, gathering dust, reminding us of trying times past. But we haven't forgotten its integral contribution to our keeping us somewhat sane. We are even considering encasing and donating it to the museum of colic as a former war hero.

The latest trend continues to be putting anything and everything within grasp into his mouth. (“Kael, be careful, you don't know where Papa's fingers' have been!” warns Michele. She's right of course). And I'm talking anything within range of those chubby little fingers he clearly had the misfortunes of inheriting from Daddy’s genes. He also enjoys chomping on his own feet. It's really quite impressive. He discovered his feet while lounging on the changing table. The insert-into-mouth reflex immediately sprung into action as he instinctively grabbed onto the heel of his foot and proceeded to shove it into his mouth like a Popsicle. His fans, ogling over him, went mad with excitement, egging him on for more, and finally daring him to stick them both in at the same time - which he eventually succeeded in doing thanks to some great persistence. What talent! What a feat! Ah, definitely another perk to being a new Dad is to finally have licence to get away with the dad jokes...

Even though the colicky period is officially done (big sigh of relief), that doesn't stop us from still having a Scorpio to deal with. He knows what he wants and he finds a, shall we say, very direct way to let us know when he doesn't get it. His vocabulary for expressing disgust is quickly evolving, as screeches are longer lasting and higher pitched while grunts grow angrier and deeper resounding; and yet, at the other end of the gamut of emotions, his grins also spread wider and his eyes sparkle with joy. Indeed, for the vast majority of the time, he is a healthy, happy baby. Who would have thunk after the trials of those first three months? You really do think it’s going to last forever. If you know any expecting parents, do be sure to let them know that even if their little bundle of scream doesn't seem to enjoy the outside world in the beginning, to persevere to show love and patience. The transformation will happen eventually, no matter how improbable it seems when he prefers the drone of the dryer over your own kisses.

At six months, he began to wear his own food. I mean, he started eating solid foods. Let's face it, more of it winds up on his face, bib, seat, floor and dog than in his mouth. Just prior to his first feed, he'd been anxiously watching us at the table while we ate dinner as if to say, “Yo, that looks good, hook me up!” So we did, though not exactly with the same shit as we ate. My favourite part is watching his reaction when introducing a new food. It catches him off guard initially so it begins with a look of bewilderment, which is closely followed by a scrunching of the face similar to the look you get when biting into a lemon. Finally, you get his verdict. If the face stays sour and he cries, it means that he's not crazy about this time around but maybe he'll find it more pleasurable next time. And if his regard remains neutral, it means he adores it. He also likes to suck up the water, too, gulping it down as if he had just spent 40 days and nights crossing the Gobi. He often ends up gasping and panting, or more commonly gagging to the point of his face almost turning blue. It's all or nothing with this kid – or, to use Michele's code, he's very intense - which is what I love about him already.

********************************************************************************

A little while back, I was waiting outside La Grotta del Fromaggio while Michele went in to purchase some mate and cheese – standard achat n'est-ce pas? - rocking a dozing baby and keeping a jittery Flea out of trouble with other canine and miniature humans alike. A couple with a young baby about half the size of Kael were sitting outside on the patio enjoying a coffee in the spring-like warmth. The Dad, noticing my load, struck up a conversation. We agreed on the miraculous nature of parenthood and learned that our respective offspring were born just four days apart.

- “How is he?” I inquired, expecting to hear of a string of long sleepless nights and intense battles to put him to bed.
- “He's an absolute joy”, the jolly man in the Montreal Canadians cap responded as his boy smiled from ear to ear, “he's been like this from the very beginning.
- “Yeah, fine, but what about the lack of sleep?, I probed, beginning to become suspicious of this new dad's relaxed and much too well-rested vibe.
- “11 hours a night, from the day he was born”, he answered proudly, with a touch of nonchalance – as if it were standard behaviour.
- “Pardon? As in1-1 eleven? As in 7-11? Here's a free a piece of advice that could save you from an evil glare, don’t tell Michele what you just told me when she comes out!” I warned.

Kael does not sleep eleven hours a night. Not even close. In fact, he continues to wake up two or three times a night, out of habit rather than necessity at this stage of the game. Michele faithfully stammers out of bed to take care of his mammary needs. He only wants one thing, and daddy is not equipped to supply it. But that will all change, we hope, when I take my parental leave from work in July. Not the booby part, but him not needing the booby... hey, come to think of it, I could get that contraption De Niro was wearing in Meet the Fockers. Anyways, while I'm on leave it will be my turn to wake up every three or fours - something I haven't done since his colicky days - to soothe him back to sleep and, with any luck, out of the night-time feeding habit.


If you're wondering why it took so long for me to write, it's because I've been busier than a colony of ants that just had their mound knocked over by a clumsy child. In an attempt to make up for the half of the salary I will be lacking, I took an extra part-time job as a soccer coach to make up the amount I won't be getting. In order to pull it off however, it also required me to work the 6-2 shift at my main job for the 2 ½ months I coached. That's a 6 am start incidentally. And a dog to walk before work. And the Vancouver Whitecaps to cover on weekends. And a travel writing course to take. And spending as much time as I can with my son. And hey, why not sprinkle a few dj gigs in there to really ensure maximum busy-ness. One day I did all three: work, coaching then djing. I kept thinking of the In Living Colour skit with the hardest working West Indian family. What? Only 3 job!? Oh, and there's Michele, my bride to be, my spiritual partner, waiting in the wings, wondering when I'd make some time for her. A jack of all trades and master of none, it's long been my vice. I want to do it all NOW. Unfortunately, Michele is often the one who gets put on the backburner and I don't thank her enough for being so patient with me and for being the best thing that ever happened on planet earth.

The thing is: the corporate environment is getting to me. Don't get me wrong, as far as financial company's go, my work is decent. The people are very nice, my bosses are supportive and not in the least bit overbearing, and the company's benefits are excellent. For that I am grateful. It's just that, I don't care for what I'm doing. I go through the motions. I accept my situation, but I can’t bring myself to be enthusiastic about it. They (the royal they) will try to spread the word that you can’t be doing what you love and make money, but there are those who ignore them and do it anyway. I believe I can be one of those, too. Why not? What I do need to bear in mind is that it probably won't happen overnight and that I will have to be more patient. As relaxed and tolerant as I am with most things, I'm not a patient person at all when it comes to me not having things go as I deem they should.

Overall, everything is wonderful as we celebrate one year in Vancouver. Summer took its sweet ass time arriving, but now that its here, it has put the whole city in a good mood. The other day I took Flea out to Mt Seymour to do some hiking while Michele and Kael were away visiting grandma and grandpa on the island. From the time we left our apartment to the time we were frolicking among the giant, moss covered cedars was twenty minutes max. Later this afternoon, we'll be bbqing at the beach. You just can't beat this city – when it's nice.

Coming home after work is still the best part of my day. Flea and her oversized ears, having heard the distinct sound of my bicycle from 2 km away, is there to greet me at the gate. Amazingly, she hasn't lost one ounce of enthusiasm in all the years I've known her. And when I walk in the door, Kael, who is as elated to see me as I am him, never fails to break out into that beautiful smile, showing off his single bottom tooth. And then I get a soft kiss from Michele to top it all off. At this point, all is perfect in the universe, even if for just one fleeting moment, every single day. And while we may not live in the biggest apartment, or have a fancy car, I sure am thankful for what we've got.

Viva espana! Viva Torres!

oj

* This was started a few months back, before things got a bit crazy, which is pretty much ancient history as fast as the Kman's developments go. He has now joined the realm of regulars since he began eating solids.

Final word: George Carlin passed away recently. The man was not only funny and witty, he was able to break down social behaviour with the intelligence of of a Phd. Case and point, check this video out: http://www.jibjab.com/view/87283

Blowing Hot Air (Feb 08)

Blue skies smilin' at me
Nothin' but blue skies do I see
Bluebirds singin' a song
Nothin' but bluebirds all day long

Never saw the sun shinin' so bright
Never saw things goin' so right
Noticing the days hurrying by
When you're in love, my how they fly

Blue days, all of them gone
Nothin' but blue skies from now on
(Blue skies smilin' at me
Nothin' but blue skies do I see)

Never saw the sun shinin' so bright
Never saw things goin' so right
Noticing the days hurrying by
When you're in love, my how they fly
Blue days, all of them gone
Nothin' but blue skies from now on
Nothin' but blue skies from now on



Life just wouldn't be very derned interesting if there wadn't a little irony tossed in every once in a while to throw you off kilt; you know, to spice it up tobaski style.

During Michele's pregnancy - which lasted a challenging ten days beyond the due date - I held secret, future visions of the perfect little angel (strangely sexless at the time) sleeping peacefully in Daddy's arms or looking around quizically and observantly at the world around him/her, patiently eager to learn all about life outside of the womb. Most of us were expecting that Kael would be a relaxed, calm baby, much like both his parents were as babies and continue to be as adults (so long as there are no “Michele Specials” involved of course). I held visions of a perfect little Buddha; mindful; quietly alert, in harmony with his/her surroundings. What I neglected to consider during these moments of ridiculous fantasizing was another character trait shared by both Mama et Papa : highly sensitive.

“Inconceivable!”. One of my all-time favourite lines from the classic, The Princess Bride, quickly turned into “incosolable!”, around the apartment as every time he seemed on the verge of falling asleep or finally quieting down, Mt. Kael would suddenly re-erupt. I have come to call these outbursts “Kael storms” (difficult to forecast) or a “kalestrom” - depending on the intensity of the wail. So you try every trick in the book and still, the kid is acting as if his fingernails are being ripped out. “Inconsolable!”. Mind you, he's been fed, his diapers changed, he's warm enough – so what else could he possibly need? During those first few weeks, you are tortured by that helpless feeling of being at a loss as to what your screaming child desires. When we mentioned our son's condition to the nurse, who came to visit us at home early on, she kindly said that these uber-sensitive babies are common, and moreover, they are the ones that turn out to be world leaders. How flattering! Come to think, of it, I now recall the mentioning of Gandhi's mother almost losing it on her future saint of a son after his 60th straight day of crying for world peace after his birth. Thankfully, she kept her cool, just as we must with our little spirited angel.

So, while very looking forward to Kael being inaugurated as Prime Minister or awarded the Nobel Peace Prize for his groundbreaking work with the Dalai Lama, we must somehow learn to deal with our little fussy-gussy of a baby boy. Enter “the formula”. No, I don't mean the evil, overpriced concoction they warned us of in breastfeeding class. No, I'm talking about the “Cuddle Cure”, invented by a hippie doctor in California. We learned of the method from a book called “The Happiest Baby on the Block”, donated to us generously by friends of ours who have graduated on to “Happiest Toddler on the Block” with their son – and Kael's future partner in play crime - Rhys. Now, I admit to being rather skeptical of the gazillion baby books and theories out there (much to Michele's frustration), but I do recommend this one to new parents. It's a wealth of pertinent non-preachy information, well written, witty, and the theories jibe with the evolution of our species. Without going into too much detail, the jist of it is that babies in modern times actually come out three months earlier than they did during our cave-dwelling days; therefore, in the first three months, it is important to mimic the conditions of the womb as closely as possible. Let's not forget that they've got it good in the womb: fed on demand, no germs, no bad breath for parents etc. And then one day boom, they are released from this den of comfort into a bright, overstimulating world. It is said that birth is the most traumatic experience of our lives – though I name a few of the bathroom experiences in China as close runner's up.

The Cuddle Cure, or the 5 Ss, goes something like this: 1) swaddle, 2) side/stomach, 3) ssshhh, 4) swing and 5) soothe. The swaddle, or creation of a baby straightjacket, creates the snugness inside the womb and prevents senseless overstimulation by unpredictable, flailing arms. The stomach or side relates to how he was positioned in the womb. The ssshhh is the most interesting one to us because it is the most important of the Ss when attempting to tame a Kaelstorm. Shhhh, quiet! Don't disturb the baby...Wrong! Apparently, it's loud, very loud, in the womb. We're talking vacuum cleaner at full blast loud in there, what with the blood rushing up and down tubes, swooshing around to and fro. Sshhing in his ear as suggested in the book, however, has not worked once. So, during desperate times, I attempted to use the hair dryer as an alternative. I plugged it in unconvincingly and brought our screeching ball of joy within range of the blasting sound, more expecting it to at least drown out his crying than soothe him. Lo and behold, he zipped right up instantly, staring blankly into space, as if he had never been upset in his life. Ever since that magical moment, the dryer has become our new best friend and we are never more than a few feet away from it at all times. Some friends are predicting he will be strangely drawn to hair salons in the future, but we are willing to take that risk for a few moments of peace.

Kael's next S is the swing, although it isn't so much a swing that he likes as a jiggle. We've gone through a whole host of different dances and jiggles, but the one in favour currently is the Richard Simmons, an aerobic-inspired back and forth step the man? himself would be proud of – though it can be quite demanding on Mom and Dad in the middle of the night. And when the dryer's drone gets a bit tiresome, oj throws on the funk, latin or whatever other booty-shaking grooves he's got and tries to appease him through dance. It rarely works as well as the Richard Simmons, but at least Papa keeps his sanity.

To say the first 6 weeks were not easy is a gross understatement. However, incorrigeably positive, I am happy to report that, on the doorstep of the 3 month mark, the worst of the collicky period is behind us. The situation did become somewhat more tolerable when we finally accepted that we were not doing anything wrong. Cause I tell ya, when your baby's only waking moments, aside from being silenced by the power of the booby, are spent wailing and screaming (I wish I were exaggerating), you start to wonder what the %^^$ you are doing wrong. My tank of patience, usually a rather large tank, was emptied until I was running on fumes almost daily. Coupled with limited sleep, I was actually on the brink as it were. I am prepared to wager that nothing is as uncomfortable as the sound of your child wailing in agony. The experience has also surfaced a side of me I had yet to see, a side that can easily be pinpointed as learned behaviour from my own father: a strong temper. Strangely, a punch in the face or being chopped down in a soccer game has never made me mad, but piercing screeches eminating from my son's impressive chops have. Go figure.

And yes, a kaelstorm is often what I came home to, sometimes after a long day's work. Ahh, poor baby. No, poor Mom actually. Michele is the one who primarily had to deal with the kaelstorms day and night. Jiggling became so constant and intense that she has developed tendinitis, sporting the splints on each hand respectively. Add that to a case of thresh and a general eating disorder that many of you are already fully aware of. Yet, as with the pregnancy, Michele has been a trooper and has admirably kept her sense of humour throughout- mostly anyways. Sleepless nights and non-stop fussiness will take its toll on even the most dedicated parent and we are no exceptions. But, it is Mom who has bared the brunt of it and I wish to pay homage to her at this time. Men just couldn't do what women do.

And now that I've got my typical whinging out of the way, let me say that it has all been worthwhile, beyond shadow of a doubt. All the cliches of being a parent are entirely true. Just looking down at that cute, handsome face sleeping peacefully comes this indescribable sense of joy that arises from deep within my heart. It is a feeling that remains unparaleled. It's Beauty. It's Love. It's Creation. And this time, it is very, very personal. Do you want me to go on? The ladies do, but the men are like, move on there fruitcake.

A few weekends ago, bless it, we got our first taste of baby sans constant fussiness. Kael actually had a few minutes of quiet awareness – something I'd heard babies' do, though was beginning to suspect only a rumour- where he would stare up at me, eyes wide open with pursed lips soundless. It was amazing. We were really able to enjoy him. The notion of even the remote possibility, at some point in the future, of life with Kael without wail, sent shots of positivity rushing through our veins.

Now at virtually 3 months old, Kael is becoming more and more expressive with each passing day. The best part of each day, by leaps and bounds - provided the skies are clear - is coming home from work, and seeing Kael's face light up when he sees me. Priceless. No matter how elated I've ever felt, whether at the best party or winning a championship, nothing compares to the feeling of my beautiful boy smiling up at me with his huge blues eyes. We usually just stare at each other for awhile, unable, unwilling, to steer our gaze elsewhere.

And yet this angel of a boy remains a “spirited” one, challenging Mom and Dad's patience to the max at times, by refusing to go down (ie sleep) without a fight or fuss. His spiritedness confirms our appropriate choice of names for, as Kael is a Gaelic name meaning mighty warrior. His signals, which initially were as indecipherable as the map of the Tokyo subway system, are slowly starting to make sense as we get to know and trust one another. Patterns emerge, though they are still about as reliable as the weather at this point. We aren't completely out of the woods, but we're close.

And when I recall those first few days at home, when, sleep-deprived and exhausted, you suddenly find yourself home with this helpless, screaming little being - completely dependent on you for survival – and you look at one another with that, “Ok, now what?” expression, it does seem like a long time ago already. You spend the better part of a year preparing for that moment, and then when it arrives, you just don't know what to do. We've already witnessed quite a change in our little guy during that period. He's doubled his birth weight and outgrown his first set of clothes faster than Flea gobbling down a piece of meat.

And, of course, even when his “spirited” phase cools down, we know there awaits an equally challenging next step phase on deck to put us to the test. These stages of his development, I suspect, are precisely what makes parenting so rewarding in the end. To gradually witness and be a part of his evolution until , he reaches adulthood, is a journey worth looking forward to. As natural and common a process as it is, it really is the miracle of life when it happens to you. Or, at least, it is as it is happening to me.

Recently, we had a full week of sunshine here in the rainy city and it has given everyone a little extra skip in their step. The stunning backdrop of scintillating golden, snow-capped peaks, seen from any vantage point around Vancouver, has indeed been an amazing sight to behold. And while walking back from my morning walk with Flea today, I happened to pass by the winter's farmers' market only steps away from our building, where some musicians were swinging to a great rendition of the wonderful classic “Blue Skies”. Yep, no matter happens, with Kael and Michele in my life, there'll be nothin' but blue skies – and blue eyes – from now on.

oj

And speaking of music, I've compiled a top five list of Kael inspires tunes. See if you can guess the real song by replacing the word in italics with a real word.

1) “Booby Nights”
2) “Wrapped like an Egyptian”
3) “Peein' (Over You)”
4) “Jiggling Baby”
5) “Burp It Out (Loud and Clear)"

Can you guess the real song?

Also, if anyone wants to see more pics, check out Michele's Facebook site. Just search for Michele Black.For now anyways...