I’ve gotten used to Jamie being present, but not fully aware of his surroundings. A couple of weeks ago, that officially ended. As I gathered up his bag to bring him to my parents’ house for the day, I asked if he was ready, only I slid a nickname in. “Are you ready buck-o?” I wasn’t ready for what came in return. “Buuuuck-o.” Now he can say duck as well. We’ll be starting a pool for what word comes next. I’ve fallen into the pattern of doing things like watching Sons of Anarchy with him in the room, or not paying attention to which songs have swear words that I listen to in the car while he rides with me. I’ll also admit to not being the best personal influence with this particular matter. It took a kid to realize how swear words just make any story better, and why it’s important to accept no substitutes. Shucks, jeepers, and son of a biscuit simply do not have the same literary effect. Kids really do have brains like a sponge. My prediction for later in life will be that Jamie begins to associate certain swear words with watching his dad complete home improvement projects.  It’s at that point I’m sure he’ll pick up a whole new vocabulary. Let’s just hope he learns the words he’s supposed to learn...

I’ve had this idea for a blog post brewing in my head about how if the Blackhawks were to repeat, my son would have then seen as many Stanley Cup championships in his less than two years on this earth, as I have now seen in my entire lifetime. Well, the L.A. Kings had something to say about that in game 7 overtime late last night, at the Madhouse on Madison. If my son were a little bit older, last night’s Blackhawks game could have provided a very teachable moment about Chicago sports, and how to handle losing. When Alec Martinez of the Kings put the puck in the back of the net, it silenced an entire Metropolitan area of 10 million strong, dooming them to the fate of watching a baseball team that hasn’t won anything in more than a century. Fans from the south side can smirk, but their team hasn’t fared that much better. Either way, the boys of summer play like it’s freakin’ cold in this town. The blog post that I wanted to write would have touted how lucky my little boy would be to “witness” two championships in less than two years.  While he didn’t have to wait long for his first, this is a city that won’t spoil you that way. Here’s a running tally of the last 3-and-a-half decades of Chicago championships in case you’re keeping score: Bulls: 6 Blackhawks: 2 Bears: 1 Sox: 1 Cubs: 0 Wait ‘til next year. That’s what Cubs fans have to continue telling themselves. I don’t care if the Cubs land a few short outs from the World Series, don’t start making plans for where you are going to watch it. Sure, you have to have faith. But having faith and holding your breath are too different things. “Wait ‘til next year” sounds about as promising as the bar in my college town that posted a sign advertising free beer tomorrow. The Bulls were a force to be reckoned with in the 90s. Michael Jordan is easily one of the two greatest athletes I’ve seen in my lifetime (Walter Payton being the other). It’s teams like that that get us interested to begin with. But what do you do in the down years? What do you do in the strings of years built up in this town where the competition isn’t worth a damn? You appreciate the sport and learn how to handle loss. A Chicago sports fan must learn patience, tolerance or perspective. In the words of Dennis Leary, “Life sucks, get a helmet.” If all else fails, they will need the name of a good therapist.            ...

Fact: We all like a clean home. And let’s face it – we love our young children, but they can be little germ-infested factories, leaving a trail of gobby, gooey messes behind. They can also leave your home looking like its been overturned by a tornado on steroids, in a fraction of a second. Afflicted parents need to repair this damage, and don’t necessarily have a schedule that allows them to wait until naptime. Here are some suggestions for how to keep a decently clean home with a toddler running around: Unloading and Reloading the Dishwasher Step #1 – Remove all hazardous objects from child’s immediate reach and make sure all nearby outlets are capped, doors are child-locked, and garbage cans are unreachable.  (After all, safety is our #1 concern.) Step #2 – Sprint into the kitchen, leaving toddler befuddled in the other room. Step #3 – Rinse a dish. Immediately place in dishwasher. (It is important to act quickly here. Toddler is crawling to catch up.) Step #4 – Close dishwasher door as frantically as possible. (Make sure that there are no fingers trapped in the door. Even if you don’t think your child could possibly be quick enough to find you paying attention to something else, I assure you that they can.) Step #5 – Repeat steps 3 and 4 for every dirtied dish and utensil. Expect to spend an estimated 25 times as long as you previously spent with dishwasher. Alternative method – Wait until toddler goes to bed. Then do it as you were accustomed to previously at normal speeds. Vacuuming Floors Step #1 – Locate child’s favorite toy. The one they can play with for extended periods of time without suspecting anything awry. Step #2 – Place child in adjoining room out of the way, playing with said toy. Again, choose something they will be entertained with for more than a fraction of a second. Step #3 – Go to closet.  Retrieve vacuum. Plug in and begin cleaning floor. Step #4 – Be sure to avoid hitting your child with the vacuum as they crawl immediately up to foreign moving object. Make double sure they do not attempt to lick it. You didn’t really think they would stay where they were, did you? Alternative method – Wait until toddler goes to bed. Then proceed with no distractions. Straightening Toy-Bombed Front Room  We have an expression in our home. It looks like the toy bomb went off. It simply means that there is an explosion of your child’s books and toys scattered across the floor. Here’s how to straighten it up: Step #1 – Take three large deep breaths and come to the understanding beforehand...

My wife Meg and I have a normal morning routine. Usually we’re up at about the same time getting ready for work, and prepping our 1-year-old son Jamie for leaving the house. Part of this ritual includes making a bottle. We have a bottle warmer, which has actually saved us a ton of time. It heats the bottle, and as it is done, it beeps. The other morning I heated one, before Jamie was fully awake. He hadn’t made any noises in his room indicating he was awake, but we needed to keep the schedule moving. As the warmer beeped in the kitchen, he screamed “Ba!” over and over from the nursery down the hall.  We can draw two conclusions from this incident: One, it is scary what he can hear from behind his closed door, and Meg and I will need to keep that in mind. Two, our Pavlovian training is complete. Jamie is definitely becoming more aware of his surroundings, and he’s trying more and more to talk. This means toddler talk, which I’ve never been a huge fan of, but I’ve found it more of an alluring force than I originally thought it might be. It’s harder than I thought for us not to refer to his bottle as his ba. It quickly becomes habit-forming. The problem with this, as I see it, is that we start speaking his language, instead of him speaking ours. As Jamie develops, it’s interesting to determine what qualifies as a new word, and what comes out as mere gibberish. He’s starting to string long sentences and paragraphs together verbally, but none of it makes any sense whatsoever. He does have a couple other words he’s picked up lately. He began pointing at the ceilings and saying something that sounded like “that.” After quite a bit of discerning, he actually is saying “light.” He also has a toy that says “hola,” and he’s started repeating that as well. At first it sounded more like a karate chop (Haaaaaaya), but it has progressed to the actual word. I’m pretty sure mastering this word qualifies him as bilingual, since he knows almost as much Spanish as he does English. The struggle for me has been not resorting to speaking his language. I thought I’d be strong enough to coach the conversation through this stage of development. But it is amazing how quickly you adapt to his world, and find yourself calling things what he calls them. The goal is to be more insistent about it than he is, so that he learns over time. So I try to say “bottle” to help him figure it out. The word “ball” also sounds the same...

How weird it must have been to grow up before color television.  Some of the things that our parents told us made them seem so old. Well, surprise! Now it’s our turn. Here’s my start at compiling a list of things that will make me sound ancient as I impart them on Jamie. You had to leave the house to rent a movie. It’s the weekend and you want to relax and watch a movie? We had to go to the store to rent the VHS or DVD copy. You couldn’t simply find it On Demand or through Netflix. It required its own errand. Sometimes using the phone meant being at home and standing in one location. Phones were something that sat on the furniture, and were grounded to that location with a cord. You couldn’t just get up and walk to the other side of the house as you talked. There was also that little matter of needing to be at home to accept a phone call. Books were the best place to find facts. The idea of Googling something didn’t yet exist. If you wanted to conduct research, you needed to consult an encyclopedia, or go to a library. Knowing how to use a card catalog was a necessary skill. You could smoke in buildings. You used to be able to smoke in bars and restaurants. Whether you lit up or not, if you wanted to grab a beer or a bite to eat, your clothes would reek of smoke. Bring a map. If you got lost in your car as you made a trip, you had one of two options. You could either drive around until you find what you are looking for, or you could stop and ask for directions. If you stopped at a store, you could always buy a map – on paper. Phones with maps were still a thing of the future. Cameras had film. You couldn’t immediately see the picture that you just took. You had to drop film off at the store, and return to pick it up sometime in the following week. What are the things that will make you feel old? Leave them in the comments.      ...

Our cat doesn’t hate people. She just hates people who don’t have the last name Brennan, and who don’t live under the same roof. We’ve had friends with kids over before Jamie was born. Some of these experiences frequently ended with her hissing, or swatting at them, or otherwise acting out. They rarely ended well. To say that we were nervous about her cohabitating around a newborn was an egregious understatement. We brought Jamie home from the hospital, and our home life was not what we expected. She sniffed the infant carrier, and showed a strong indifference to everything. She never even seemed too upset at our attention being poured into the new addition to our household. She didn’t hate him. She simply chose not to care about any of the changes occurring around her. Victory for all. As Jamie became a little more aware of his surroundings, his infatuation with the cat grew. My mom made a book with photos of everyone in the family. The picture of the cat elicits the strongest reaction. He tries to pet the picture and lets out a sigh. He’s now becoming a much faster crawler, and the cat’s tranquil existence is being called into jeopardy every moment of every day. Jamie hasn’t quite grasped the idea of stealth as he chases after the cat. The grunts and other various noises he makes give the cat plenty of lead time on the ensuing approach. When he does find her, the pursuit begins innocent enough. He’ll pet her softly, with his miniature digits. Then, it goes downhill. He’ll grab a tuft of her fur, pulling. At that point, my wife and I try to teach him the word gentle as we show him by patting her on the back softly. To her credit, she still hasn’t so much as hissed at him. I’m not sure when or where our cat was switched out for a more child-friendly model, but I’ll take it. We’re to the point that if she reacts negatively to him, he probably did something to deserve it. It’s the perfect cause and effect lesson. Jamie has a way of getting what he wants, especially when it’s troublesome, and even as we’re watching him closely. I’m waiting for him to yank a tuft of hair and eat it. For a little guy that barely knows the words “Da Da” and “Ma Ma,” the word “gentle” still seems a bit off in the distance. For now, the cat can sit on the other side of our baby gate, and mockingly stare. It’s the only sanctuary she has....