Day 224 - Introduction to Recycling and Toliet Paper Unwinding

Recycling. No one is ever going to claim that recycling is a bad thing. Of course not. The whole 'Reduce, Reuse, Recycle' is definitely good for Planet Earth. That being said, I do occasionally find myself relatively uncertain as to whether something may or may not be recycled. 

I knew there was a fourth 'R' I was forgetting...

For example, that glass jar with remnants of marinara sauce stuck to the side for all eternity. Try as I might, I can never scrub all of that off. So, can I still recycle that or does it have to be trashed due to the nastiness? Same thing goes for that plastic container of strawberries that I forgot about in the back of the fridge until it molded. Can the plastic container still be recycled even if it's covered in mold? The world may never know.

I bring this up because Ellie actually provided me with a problem in the same vein as these last week. Honestly, I feel like it required an answer that I felt totally unprepared as to what it would be.

Flashback to Friday. As soon as Ellie awoke from her morning nap and had her cup of milk, it was time for that most valued of morning traditions. That being me actually getting the opportunity to grab a shower. You see, Ellie's ears are still finely-tuned instruments that pick up the slightest hint of noise. Flushing toilets, pouring cereal into a bowl, opening any door on our top floor: all will end up alerting Ellie to my presence. Therefore, I wait until she's a awake to grab a shower more often than not.

What is that I hear? Doth my ears deceive me?

To ensure Ellie stays out of mischief, I shut her into Bethany's and my bedroom and leave the door open to the master bathroom so she can come as she pleases. I also will normally leave our closet door open so she can play with our shoes all she wants (weird foot fetish, I guess?). Normally Ellie is quite well-behaved but this was not the case on Friday.

As soon as I completed my shower, I slid open the door to find toilet paper strewn across our tiny bathroom and heading out the door into the bedroom. You see, Ellie had gotten bored while waiting on me to complete my shower and had actually unrolled an entire roll of paper (seriously, only one square was missing). As if I needed further confirmation it was her, Ellie was proudly sitting amidst a mountain of toilet paper right outside the bathroom door laughing happily.

While I was irritated, I saw no harm in it so began rolling the paper back onto the roll. After looping the roll about 12 times, I ran out of things to roll because Ellie, in all of her excitement, had actually not just unrolled the paper. She had also decided to shred it. At this point, I did feel it was necessary to tell her she was a bad baby since she has been punished for touching toilet paper rolls before. Of course, all that accomplished was drawing a ridiculous amount of tears from my daughter as she sat amongst her toilet paper mountain (the better to dry her tears with). With no recourse, I balled up the remainder of the shredded paper and condensed it down from its original basketball size until I could stuff it in the garbage can. 

In case you're wondering, I did consider recycling. One particular reason kept me from not doing so, though. I just imagined the mess that would spring forth if it happened to rain on recycling day. And well, that was a mess I just had no desire to clean up ever. #DaddyWrite

Day 221 - Ellie Versus the Vacuum

Everyone's got some kind of fear. Ok, maybe not everyone. I can't confirm that though as various searches for people without fear on Google only gave me Taylor Swift's 'Fearless' album and the superhero, Daredevil. 

The T-Swift/Daredevil mashup you never even knew you needed...

That being said, I really do believe everyone's afraid of something. For example, I really don't like mice for some reason. I know that they're tiny and really incapable of hurting anyone. For some weird reason, I just don't like them. Unless you're talking about Mickey; I really do like Mickey. In the case of Bethany, she absolutely hates storms. The louder and more intense it is, the more she finds herself afraid. Don't even get me started on how she reacts to being alone during one. 

Ironically, while Bethany and I have some silly fears on display there, I've really thought Ellie is fearless. Now, I know for a fact that there is no one without fear. Obviously, Google taught me that. I just assumed Ellie was as close as they come. That's especially true when considering all of the trips tumbling down the stairs, all of the times she's been tossed in the air and caught, and all of the times she has had to eat my cooking. Well, now I realize that's no longer true. Ellie is indeed afraid of something and it might be just as silly as mice and storms.

One of Ellie's favorite traditions in the Holt household is that of the afternoon snack. Normally taking place at some point between 3 and 4 pm, it's a moment that she may just wait all day for. Ok, I might be overselling it. It's not that special. That being said, she does enjoy it. It's not something that we put a ton of prep work into as the snack is usually something like animal crackers, goldfish crackers, or yogurt. Basically the purpose of said snack is just to tide Ellie over until dinner time.

So, you're wondering something along the lines of what exactly was on the menu and how is this blog-worthy. The snack of the day was a mixture of graham crackers and goldfish. Now, more often than not, when feeding Ellie a snack such as this, I just let her sit on the floor with her milk cup beside her. I figure this gives her a nice change of pace from being in the high chair. I will say this normally goes well but today was the exception to the rule.

Like any reasonable person, Ellie will reach a point where she's full and doesn't want to eat anymore. She generally will show that she's reached that point by just crawling off and leaving her bowl and cup where they lie on the kitchen floor. For some reason, she decided to mix it up today. She instead decided to mark being done with her snack by turning the bowl upside down and spilling crumbs all over the kitchen floor. After I picked up all of the large crumbs, I still found myself with an overwhelming amount of tiny crumbs covering the kitchen floor.

With no other recourse, I went to our coat closet and pulled out the vacuumed. As I wheeled it over to the kitchen, I saw Ellie immediately become apprehensive at the sight of it. That was nothing compared to me plugging it in. The second the motor kicked on and air started whirling around inside the cylinder, Ellie stood up and pulled at my shorts frantically. This actually would continue until I turned the vacuum off. I then took pity and picked up my baby to calm her racing heart.

Maybe it's a bad attitude but one hopes Ellie learned something from this experience. Although I think the only thing to learn here is don't dump your food on the kitchen floor and the vacuum won't get turned on. Maybe that is a good life lesson for all I know. #DaddyWrite

Day 219 - Time to Spank the Baby...

I had to discipline the baby today. You're probably slightly curious what exactly Ellie did to deserve discipline. Well, don't think about it too much because she totally deserved it and had it coming. That being said, it still wasn't fun at all. Just so I don't leave you wallowing in anticipation any longer, I'll go ahead and hop right to it.

Today started off basically like every other. Well, not every other if I'm being totally honest. A 4:00 am wake-up call from Ellie is not standard operating procedure. That tidbit isn't really integral to the story though. What is important to the story is that everything else for the morning went according to plan; Ellie ate her breakfast around 6:45 am and went down for her nap around 7:15. See, nothing too out of the ordinary. 

Once Ellie woke up from her morning nap during the 8:00 hour, I promptly picked her up, gave her a hug, and set her down on the floor to play. It didn't take long though for me to notice the stank emanating from within Ellie's pajamas and for the accompanying gag reflex to kick in. That's right, Ellie needed a diaper change! Just in case you're wondering, I am aware that I have shared other diaper stories over the lifetime of #DaddyWrite. This one's slightly different.

Just like every other diaper change, I laid Ellie down on her changing table and unzipped her pajamas. Just as I suspected the diaper was definitely soiled. Therefore, I removed her pajamas and set about diaper duty, taking great precaution to lay out a fresh diaper and as many baby wipes as I assume would be necessary. Then it's time to get to work.

Ellie's diaper changes can be such a dirty job, not even Mike Rowe would tackle it.

I open up the diaper and use the minuscule piece of clean diaper left to wipe remaining residue off of Ellie's skin before hitting it with the wipe. Here's where things get rough. You see, Ellie has developed this weird habit of trying to grab the used diaper's tabs while laying on the table. In fact, that very action on Sunday night led to me getting my hand covered in her poop. As you can guess, I was not stoked by that turn of events. Therefore, each time I saw Ellie's hand inching close to the used diaper, I made certain to slap it away. Once, twice, three times I followed through with slapping her hand away. 

Finally on the fourth time, I wasn't quite fast enough and Ellie got a firm grasp on the diaper. It so happened that Ellie wasn't just content to hold the diaper. She instead wanted to work on her lifelong ambition of being a calf roper in the rodeo. She took the diaper and began whirling it around over her head just as a cowboy would a lasso. Luckily, I got the diaper away from her before its contents added some new colors to her pretty, green walls. 

Now, as you can probably guess, I was pretty much fuming after this. Quickly cleaning Ellie's backside off, I then grabbed her legs and raised them in the air, proceeding to give her three swift swats to her bare butt. As Ellie has never been spanked before, she looked up at me, tears beginning to stream from her big blue eyes. Her bottom lip began to quiver, finally opening wide and letting out a primal scream. I wasn't really in the mood so I quickly diapered Ellie, sat her down in the floor, and walked out of her room to ours across the hall. Honestly, I was still mad at her despite the spanking and needed a little time to calm down the rest of the way.

It didn't take long for Ellie to come wandering into our bedroom. However, she didn't come alone. Instead she came, dragging her borrowed copy of "10 Little Rubber Ducks". She would then stand up next to our bed, holding the book aloft for me to take. If that wasn't enough of a hint, she also audibly followed it up with a "Muh Uh" which is Ellie's way of asking for something. As I looked at her, I realized I couldn't stay mad at her. I picked my daughter up, plopped her on my lap, and proceeded to read aloud to her.

I'm actually really glad for Ellie's desire to smooth things over quickly. I had been feeling really, really bad about spanking her (I still do). However, I know this won't be the last time she gets spanked. It also makes you think a little. As Bethany eloquently stated, it gives us a little hint as to how God feels when he has to punish us. 

And well, if you didn't know, it pretty much stinks. Kind of like Ellie's diaper. #DaddyWrite

If you need confirmation that all is well between Ellie and I, this photo from this afternoon should do the trick...

Day 217 - You're a Heartbreaker (aka The Playdate)

Be honest with me, is this a weird topic for a blog?

Oh, what's that? You say that I haven't done or said anything yet? I guess it might be helpful if you knew where I was going with before I asked you to tell me if it's a weird topic or not. Ok, here we go.

Everyone has a type. You know, the type of person that you're interested in. Without getting too detailed (or incriminating), I remember I always liked brunettes when I was growing up. So needless to say, I was happy when I ended up with Bethany and her brownish/blondish locks. You know, I was right; this is a weird blog topic. Too late to turn back now so I might as well dive on in. 

You know, it's not just the blog that's weird...

I'm fully aware that if Ellie continues on the path she's on now, she may end up as a heartbreaker. Platinum blonde hair and baby blue eyes are something that a lot of guys go for.  Needless to say, I'm already taking the necessary steps to ensure that I'll at least be the type of dad that can slightly intimidate some of the guys that will come a courtin'. I've even enlisted the help of Ellie's "Uncle" Malachi to train me! That being said, I wasn't expecting to see Ellie already breaking hearts at the tender age of one. Shows how much I know.

One thing that I've learned since being a stay-at-home dad is that play dates seem to be a big thing. Seriously. I really don't know many stay-at-home dads, but I am Facebook friends with a good number of stay-at-home mothers. Therefore, all it takes for me to learn more about being a stay-at-home parent is just a simple browse through my news feed. Now, as a SAHD, I don't really seek out play dates or anything like that for a variety of reasons. Probably the largest is that I view myself as being awkwardly independent and I've got a reputation to keep up (says the daddy blogger who talks about his feelings).

Taking all of that into account, any time we have the opportunity to have Ellie interact with other kids, we try to take advantage of it. Luckily for us, that opportunity presented itself when our old college friends, Brendan and Laura, stopped by on Wednesday evening with their two-year-old son, Matthew, in tow. As they were just killing a little time before picking Brendan's mom up from the airport, we only had a couple of hours to hang. However, it was long enough to see young Matthew get acquainted with Ellie.

The two definitely played together really well. From looking out the window together to playing in Ellie's ball pit to taking turns on Ellie's swing, the two pretty much were inseparable for the better part of an evening. However, all good things must come to an end. Once 7:15ish rolled around, I knew it was time for me to get Ellie her bath so that she could get ready for bed. Side note, I say just me as Bethany was serving at our church's VBS for the week.

Once I had Ellie in the tub, washing her up, it was only a short amount of time before I looked over to see Matthew watching over my shoulder as I bathed her. You know, if he had been older, I may have taken action but I instead just chalked it up to the innocence of a child. Surely he wasn't checking her out, right? Soon enough, Ellie was cleaned, dressed, and was ready to be put to bed. So with a touch of milk and a couple of pacifiers, I put my daughter down for the night and headed downstairs to rejoin my friends.

Imagine my surprise when I reached the living room and saw Matthew with tears running down his face. It seemed that he had certainly become attached to his little play date over the previous couple of hours and couldn't imagine being separated from her. Either that or he was just really tired and wanted to sleep himself (It's probably that one). 

Legitimately curious, is that official ASL? Someone let me know...

So, as you can see, Ellie is indeed breaking hearts at the tender age of one. If she's already driving men (or boys) to tears at this point in her life, I can only imagine what I'm in for as she gets older. Good thing Malachi is going to teach me everything he knows about being a man. I may just need it. #DaddyWrite

Ed. note: There's obviously a fair amount of tongue-in-cheek to this article. No offense meant to Brendan, Laura, or Matthew (Not that they would likely ever take any). :)

Day 215 - Cut them on Tuesday...

When I was growing up, pets were a constant and an inconstant. In other words, we always had them around, but they inevitably didn't last too long. It wasn't from abuse or neglect or anything like that in case you're worried (don't sic PETA on me). It was more just a by-product of living on a road, that despite being in the country, saw an abundance of travel. Needless to say, we had our fair share of saying goodbye to pets. I still remember the time my parents sat me down at the kitchen table to tell me the news of poor Pepper's demise. My response: "Guess we need to get another doggie." Of course, it wasn't just dogs around the house. 

PETA's Elite Police Force...

My parents eventually decided we might have better luck keeping cats alive so the time came to get me a kitty. Our first cat, Smokey, rode home on the bottom of my mom's car. He was a nice cat even if he did smell of exhaust fumes, hence the name. Since he was just a garage cat, it was only a matter of time until he got out. When that happened, it didn't take long at all for Smokey to reach his final resting place, flattened and spread eagle on the side of a bale of hay. 

You know, it's just what Smokey would have wanted...

At this point, you're probably trying to figure out why I'm sharing stories of my pets meeting their demise. For the record, I did leave out the epic stories of Dog Dog, Joker, Coco, Ace, Whiskers, and Ginger. I'm on a little pet kick right now because I found myself thinking about all of the care that went into owning one, especially cats. You have to feed and water them, change litter boxes, and keep them cleaned and well-groomed. 

If I'm being honest, there's one part of cat care I hated more than anything else: trimming claws. It was essentially a two-person job with one person holding the cat and three of its limbs in place while another cuts the claws on the remaining paw. It inevitably would end with the cat essentially cursing you out before finally sulking off to pee on your pillow or something for your transgression. This all came up because I found myself thinking about my least favorite part of Ellie-care. That being trimming her nails.

I'm talking about the shift in topics from pets to Ellie, of course.

I'm not exactly sure how it happens so quickly, but Ellie's nails grow at a ridiculous pace. Seriously, it feels like three days after they're trimmed, her nails are approaching goblin status all over again. While this might not seem like a big issue, the fact that Ellie hates having her nails trimmed make it difficult. I can't really speak from experience since Bethany hasn't allowed me to cut Ellie's nails after I drew blood the first time I tried. However, that doesn't mean I haven't studied what occurs.

Bethany will first sit Ellie down in her lap and present the nail clippers to Ellie as an initial peace offering. Ellie will then turn the clippers over and over in her hands, studying them as one would study a can of food without a label. Once she appears to be satisfied, Bethany takes the clippers back, puts her arm around Ellie, and holds her tightly while attempting to cut her nails. I say attempting because Ellie inevitably starts wiggling as soon as her mother makes the first snip. Before I know it, Ellie is screaming and kicking violently until Bethany finally has to let her go. With that, Ellie will usually snatch the fingernail clippers from Bethany's hand in an attempt to hide them where they will never resurface.

We've even tried the two-person method to get this task done. All that does though is make the baby angrier. I can't say I blame her though as I probably wouldn't like being forcibly held in place while my nails are finally manicured. We've even tried using books, toys, milk, and food as distractions to get Ellie's nails trimmed to no avail. Normally after about one nail, she's done with it and ready to fight, bite, claw, and scratch until she finally gets loose. And well, our arms can only take so much until they're done taking abuse.

At least there is a consolation to this whole thing. With cats, we absolutely had to trim the claws or else they would curve into its paw pads. Ellie's fingernails won't do that though. If anything, they'll just grow super long and curly like that guy in the Guinness Book of World Records. 

When that happens, then I can actively say I am a proud father of a Guinness World Record holder. And well, that'd be pretty cool! Right? #DaddyWrite

On second thought, ewww.