My three-year-old and I go to the grocery store every Sunday morning. He gets a free sprinkle cookie and a doughnut each time. I get a few things for the week and a newspaper. It’s one of our fun traditions.

One thing he does each week as we’re leaving is ask the cashier for a balloon. It seems innocent enough. But once we go outside, he lets it go. Every time. Living in Florida, he’s a big fan of space and the space shuttle. He says he likes to see the balloons “go up to the astronauts in space.”

Today, after the balloon release, he said, “Maybe the astronauts will use my balloon to have a party.”

Maybe they will since Atlantis returns to earth today.

Like clockwork, every time we return from a plane trip our three-year-old gets sick. This time Jack has a sinus infection and pink eye. Giving him medicine has never been a problem (he loves it),  but this is the first time we’ve had to try to put eye drops in his eyes. That’s fun.

Here’s the backstory…

Jack woke up from his nap yesterday, right eye all crusty, and said, “Daddy, since I’m sick I’m just going to keep this eye closed (he couldn’t open it anyway) so it feels better.”

After he allowed a warm rag on it, the eye opened up. Later, I asked Jack how his eye felt.

“Not good,” he replied.

“Well, we’re going to take you to the doctor tomorrow,” I said. He agreed that a doctor’s visit was what he needed.

I talked to my wife this morning after his appointment and she said the doctor told her she would not prescribe a nose spray. Jack heard “nose spray” and said, “Noooo!!!! No nose spray.” Jennifer told him the doctor said he wouldn’t need the nose spray and that she would prescribe eye drops.

“Noooo!!!! No eye drops,” he cried.

Jennifer told Jack he needed the eye drops so his eyes could get better and he could go back to school on Friday, which he loves.

“Noooo!!!! I don’t wanna go back to school,” he cried again, with a more dramatic flair this time.

We kind of got the eye drops in this afternoon by bribing him with one Peep left over from Easter. But now that he’s wise to the process and realizes he doesn’t like drops being put in his eyes, he may become more difficult.

Tonight should be interesting.

Got any tips on keeping your kids healthy while traveling? Tricks for putting in eye drops? Dispense your wisdom in the comments below.

We ventured out of town for Easter this year. A nice, six-day getaway to see both our families.

Our three-year-old has flown a lot during his young life, so we’ve never had a problem with him on a plane. Actually, we don’t have a lot of problems with him at all. But when he visits the grandparents, he is nothing but an angel. Maybe they give in to his requests more than we do. Maybe it’s because he has more entertainment options around him. Whatever the case, on this trip, he didn’t whine for nearly a week.

Best. Kid. Ever.

Then we had to fly back home. First, Jack, understandably, said he didn’t want to leave and cried a little. Then he wanted his chocolate bunny to make the pain go away. I think we underestimated the effect of the bunny on an exhausted toddler. There were no meltdowns, but he was irritable and extremely talkative the entire flight (lucky for us it was only an hour and a half). By the time we got home we were ready to let him sleep in the garage.

I guess Jack knew what his five-year-old cousin verbalized after we left.

“I’m really going to miss Jack,” Gavin said. “Now my life will go back to being the same old thing every day.”

If only we could figure out how to make Jack act the same way every day. Then we’d be on to something. But then I guess he wouldn’t be a toddler, would he?

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To me, baseball is something you have to see in person. Kind of like hockey, except that I like baseball. In person. I just get bored watching it on TV. Short attention span, I guess.

In person, the sensory experience of baseball is different. When you’re at the ballpark early in the season, the smell of spring is in the air. So are the smells of burgers and sausage dogs on the grill. The sounds are unique to America’s pasttime: the crack of the bat, the music that is synonomous with ballparks everywhere, the P.A. announcer’s words bouncing off the outfield wall and filling the stadium, the chants from the crowd, the belligerent fan. The sights are pretty good, too: the guy keeping score, the people throwing shirts into the stands, the super fan, the father and son. 

Last weekend, I was finally part of the father-son combo. 

Jack is now 3 1/2, and we probably could have gone to a game sooner, but I wanted to wait until he had a feel for what was happening. Back in December I wrote about his first football game. Big success. He was really into it. I knew he’d enjoy the baseball game.

Seeing new excitement in a child’s eyes is part of what makes parenthood great. When we pulled up to the stadium, Jack’s eyes lit up as only a toddler’s can. As we walked closer he started asking a lot of questions. He does that anyway these days, but this night he was in rare form. He asked about the big stadium lights and if there was a potty. He wanted pizza. And a snow cone. And candy.

Once we got to our seats, he asked about the white things (bases), orange stuff (infield dirt) and the colors of the players’ jerseys. He imitated the crack of the bat. I even got him to heckle some of the opposing players. He thought it was “silly” that the players were hitting the ball into the netting behind home plate (foul balls).

There aren’t too many “first times” in life, but I’m looking forward to many more with Jack. Especially if they’re as fun as our last two sports outings.

An outdoor football game with a three-year-old — his first — is kind of like Forrest Gump’s box of chocolates reference: you never know what you’re gonna get.

Our alma mater, the University of Southern Mississippi, was visiting Orlando to play the University of Central Florida right down the road from BBA headquarters. Jack and I have watched a lot of football through his first three years, so we thought the timing was right. I asked Jack if he wanted to go see the Golden Eagles play and he answered with an emphatic “yes!”.

Perfect.

We parked a 20-minute walk from tailgating and the stadium, and Jack had it easy. A comfortable ride in the stroller to the Southern Miss alumni tailgating area left us a little winded, but Jack was just hitting his stride. He got a brownie, a button for his shirt and some shakers for the stands. His “Go Eagles” chants began there and continued into the stadium. As we walked to our seats with Jack riding on my shoulders and UCF fans filing by, he shook his shakers and continued loudly cheering for the Eagles. It was hilarious.

Once in our sun-drenched seats, Jack cheered and yelled some more. The UCF fans around us couldn’t help but smile. He could have continued for hours, but we were exhausted. The game was less than entertaining (Southern Miss won 15-7), so we decided to leave at halftime. The 20-minute walk back to the car seemed longer this time, but Jack, enjoying another stroller ride, was an angel. We got back to the car and headed home. Jack was asleep in minutes.

His first football game was a success. And for a three-year-old, he was into it much more than I expected.

Before Jack was born, I wasn’t too sure about swaddling. I knew Jesus was swaddled, but how he got that way was a mystery. Despite my uncertainty, once I watched a helpful DVD and had an in-hospital lesson, I was a swaddling pro. Jennifer was a natural; like other things in parenthood, I had to learn on the job. But something happened between the hospital and home. We somehow forgot about swaddling.

After a couple of rough nights with Jack, we realized we hadn’t done it since we were at the hospital – a big mistake that was quickly corrected.

Once we started swaddling him again, he slept like a baby (pun intended). We hardly heard a peep between feedings, as long as he was wrapped up nice and tight.

He may go off to college with his swaddling blankets.

Someone back in Baby Jesus’ day must have known a thing or two about kids.

Previous Dad’s Diary entries:
:: Hospital Lockdown
:: 12 Days Early?!
:: Breastfeeding Class
:: Beyond the First Five Minutes
:: Goodbye, Pacifiers
:: And More…

Our son came into the world in grand fashion. Not only did he arrive 12 days early, but he also managed (with the help of his uncle) to launch a full lockdown of the hospital.

Jack’s ankle monitor fell off and it was put aside to deal with later. When Uncle G arrived at the room, he pulled it apart to try to get it back on Jack’s leg.

Big mistake.

Almost immediately, a nurse called the room to see if we had the baby, the elevators were stopped and, as far as we know, the rest of the hospital was briefly as secure as The White House. Oops.

Heightened security like that should make parents feel good, however, especially considering what happened down the road from BBA Headquarters a few months ago.

With Jack nearing his third birthday, I’ve been thinking back lately to the day he was born. As prepared as we thought we were, that’s how utterly unprepared we were. We took all the classes – child birth, breastfeeding and infant CPR – but nothing really gets you ready for The Day except The Day itself. For us, The Day came 12 days before it was supposed to.

Jennifer was as typically uncomfortable as a very pregnant woman could be, but we just chalked it up to her inching closer to the due date. We had never done this before. We didn’t know she was actually having contractions during that episode of Lost. So the next day Jennifer went in for a scheduled appointment and never left. Turns out the non-stress test showed Jack was under stress (why do they call it a non-stress test anyway?) and needed to get out pronto. I had just gotten home from work when Jennifer called to ask if I wanted to have our baby that day.

In near shock, I muttered something like, “Do we have to? How about tomorrow?”

No dice. The baby wasn’t waiting.

But we were supposed to have 12 more days! We had a farewell to D.I.N.K. (double income no kids) dinner planned at Ruth’s Chris that weekend. I still had to buy the video camera. Was the nursey ready? It didn’t matter. We were going to have our first child in about five hours.

I grabbed Jennifer’s bag, zipped over to Best Buy to pick up the camcorder, then sped to the hospital. Total time from call to hospital arrival: 40 minutes. I was impressed. Soon after, Jack arrived into the world on a beautiful October evening. We had a son. Everything that happened before 6:01 p.m. that day didn’t seem to matter anymore.

No, we weren’t ready, but you adjust. We had a happy (relatively) and healthy baby that made us forget just how unprepared we were to be parents a few short hours ago.

So he’s almost three. Where did the time go? Now instead of wondering when he’ll get here and what he’ll be like, I’m wondering about what food he’s swiping from the pantry and if he’ll ever actually tell us when he has to make #2.

:: Dad’s Diary runs Sundays on BabyBlogAddict.com ::

WHEN it was time for our breastfeeding class I was nervous. That’s a weird place for guys to be. But Jennifer assured me that other husbands would be there to support their wives. After all, support is one of the keys to successful breastfeeding right?

As we prepared to make our grand entrance into the hospital’s classroom, I couldn’t help thinking about the possibility I’d be the only guy there. Thankfully, I wasn’t. There were two other guys in a room full of pregnant women. My first thought was, “Where are these guys? They’re letting their wives do this alone?” Then it dawned on me that they might have realized in advance what I realized once the class started: maybe we shouldn’t be there. Case in point: one of the first things we witnessed was the lactation consultant massaging a fake breast (a lot) then sticking it into a fake baby’s mouth.

Despite the intense mental scarring, I did retain some useful nuggets. Did you know a cabbage leaf can be used to soothe engorged breasts? I also found out about positioning, suction and the type of stool breast milk produces. All things guys need to know. Just in case the wife forgets.

It’s all about support. Even if we’re never able to look at breasts the same again.

:: Dad’s Diary appears Sundays on BabyBlogAddict.com ::