August 12, 2012 at 10:41 pm , by Nick Shell

20 months.

There is a buzz on the Internet I intend to start right now about the idea of handcuffing your toddler during their time-out sessions for bad behavior.

I am one of those parents who is attempting not to spank my child; instead focusing heavily on setting concrete expectations and follow-through for age-appropriate discipline, which does not include any form of hitting.

So by going the time-out route, I am ultimately saying this to my child:

“Instead of me physically punishing you by smacking you on the butt with my hand or a fly swatter or a paddle, I am going to socially separately you from the society of this house.

Sure, it will only be for about 2 minutes since you are about 2 years old, but you will despise it.

You will be separated from the people you love the most and who love you the most. You will be contained in your crib, which has bars like a prison. Your freedom will be temporarily be taken away.

I intend to punish you psychologically, which will in turn hopefully help to discipline you.”

Granted, I always explain to my son why he is being sent to what I call “Baby Alcatraz.” He has to say he is sorry to the person he hurt and/or offended.

I hug him afterwards and remind him that I love him. Then I say something like, “Okay, now let’s have a fun rest of the day.”

This past weekend, my sister, her husband, and their 13 month-old daughter came to visit us here in Nashville from two and a half hours away.

Though my son doesn’t have trouble sharing his toys in daycare, he evidently does here at the house. Because as he kept reminding his younger little cousin, the toys she was playing with were “MINE!”

He ended up pushing her down on the floor and hitting my sister really hard on the shin with a TV remote.

Needless to say, I escorted him upstairs to Baby Alcatraz. Twice within 20 minutes.

During that dramatic escapade, I thought to myself, “Why aren’t I arresting him with plastic toy handcuffs when I do this?”

Maybe it would help drive home the point that he is not permitted to use his hands to hurt other people.

Is “arresting” your toddler with play handcuffs really so horrible of an idea? Whether you spank them or put them in time-out, you’re still punishing them in the process of discipline.

I want to avoid physically striking my child, though I’m obviously okay with physically restraining him. What would be so bad about putting him behind bars and handcuffing him on the way there? Seems consistent to me.

Having to discipline your kid is weird and annoying anyway; are toy plastic handcuffs during time-out really so awful?

Stop me from buying plastic toy handcuffs to arrest to my son for time-out. Or support the absurd idea.

Okay, go…

Top image: Plastic toy handcuffs, via Shutterstock.

Bottom image: Adorable funny baby boy, via Shutterstock.

July 12, 2012 at 9:31 pm , by Nick Shell

19 months.

Earlier this week I published a similarly named article about how my son looks nothing like me. And people agreed; as I have gathered from the comments.

There were some people who saw me in the shape of my son’s eyes, forehead, and potentially his nose.

Even though I felt the article was a stand-alone work, I now see the need for the sequel. Time to compare my son to his Mommy, this time around.

When people try to figure out who Jack looks like more, they by default choose my wife. I want to dissect that.

Granted, no one has ever said, “Your son looks just like your wife!”

At best, they say, “Your son sort of looks like your wife… a little bit.”

The fact that our biological son doesn’t really resemble either of us makes me think of the classic sitcom, Full House.

Sure, it was great. But it always bothered me that DJ, Stephanie, and Michelle shouldn’t have looked the way they did.

Danny Tanner was played by Jewish actor Bob Saget. And his unseen wife and the mother of his kids was a Greek-American; her extremely dark-featured brother Jesse Katsopolis made that evident.

Well, the Tanner kids sure came out vanilla.

And then to make matters worse, when Uncle Jesse and Aunt Becky had twin boys, Nicky and Alex, they were even more fair-complected and blonder than the Tanner girls.

The casting always bothered me on Full House because the kids didn’t look like they should have come from those parents.

But boy, am I one to talk.

If my wife and I were cast as parents in an 80′s sitcom, our son Jack wouldn’t be cast as our son. Unless the casting director was the same as the one for Full House.

So go ahead, help me see how Jack looks like my wife Jill.

I would have said they have similar eyes, but that was one of the few ways he resembles me, according to some.

Maybe their noses… from the front?

I agree that he will have my Italian nose when it’s all said and done.

(Though my wife is just as Italian as I am.)

When Jack was an infant, I said he reminded me of Jill’s dad, who passed away a few months after Jill and I got married 4 years ago.

Looking back through pictures from the weekend of our wedding, I found this picture of him. I still believe Jack resembles her dad; who was pretty much half-Norwegian and half-Irish.

So help me sort this out.

Does Jack look somewhat like his Mommy? And do you see the resemblance I see between my wife’s dad and Jack?

Oh, and I’ve been told several times that my wife and I could pass for brother and sister.

Even if we look alike, our son doesn’t.

 

July 9, 2012 at 7:53 pm , by Nick Shell

19 months.

“We’re home!” Jack said as we pulled into the parking lot of his daycare last Friday.

Sure, he doesn’t yet understand the difference between the words “home” and “here” yet, but what if it was a Freudian slip?

I put the pen to the paper, then used a calculator to check my less than awesome math skills. My number-crunching revealed to me that Jack is at daycare for 45 waking hours each week.

Contrast that to the 38 waking hours he’s home with Mommy and Dada.

We the parents have 7 less hours with our son each week than KinderCare. I’m letting that though settle in right now.

He’s been going to daycare for almost a year now and I’ve just never realized that paid professionals technically know our kid better than we do.

But like most parents, we don’t have a choice, financially.

On the positive side of it, we’re very aware of how confident, independent, and knowledgeable he is for his age.

It’s not up to us; he has to go to daycare.

But tomorrow I’ll get a taste of what it would be like to be a stay-at-home dad, or househusband: Jack had a fever of nearly 102 when I picked him up from KinderCare today.

However, on the car ride home and after dinner he was more hyper than ever. I don’t believe he’s actually sick.

So even if he’s perfectly healthy tomorrow, by policy of his daycare I can’t take him in. My wife has taken off more than her share of “sick days” from work on account of Jack having a fever. Now it’s my turn.

I will see what it’s like to actually take care of my own kid all day while my wife works. By today’s culture and standards, that’s hardly ironic. Yet still, I have little experience staying home with him all day when, technically, I should be out working.

The title of this reminds me of just how ridiculous it is that both of us parents have to work full-time to keep our own kid in daycare; where the daycare workers will spend more time with him than we do.

Ridiculous, yet normal.

We’re happily married but it feels like we have legal custody of our own child but with limited visitation rights.

 

June 27, 2012 at 9:52 pm , by Nick Shell

19 months.

One of the highlights of my day is always picking up Jack from daycare, because I know he will come running to me with a big smile on his face.

Then, he’ll cuddle up close to me like a koala bear as I hold him and collect his things before taking him out to the car.

With Jack, moments of cuddling like that are rare. It’s safe to proclaim, he’s just not a cuddly kind of kid.

I want to say that I wish he was. But that would be me being selfish.

Because he was designed to be an adventurer and an explorer, so it’s not in his nature to want to let me squeeze him like the Snuggles bear whenever I feel like it; which is actually quite often.

Jack wants to be led into swashbuckling missions. He wants to see the unknown. He wants to ride in the bottom storage part of the shopping cart at Whole Foods Market.

I have to let Jack be Jack, even if that means that at least for right now, I can’t just lay on the couch with him, being close and cuddly. Because that’s what I want.

So I accept that his love language is probably not physical touch.

Instead, I think Jack interprets love through quality time and acts of service.

That typically involves me exerting a lot of energy and burning a bunch of calories and not having much time to just chill out when I’m with him.

It’s not so much that I’m constantly having to entertain him; it’s that I’m constantly needing to engage him. Interestingly, the activities that best express my love to him in a way that he accepts as valid are the ones that most wear him out and cause him to need to take a nap.

Now I can understand even better why roughhousing with my son is so vitally important.

Chasing him like I’m a lion, then gently tossing him on the random air mattress in our living room is the equivalent to snuggling with him. That’s how Jack sees it.

And perhaps my subconscious realization of that naturally makes me want to play rough with him in the first place.

It’s been no secret that Jack and my dad have always had a special bond.

Even when Jack was only a couple of months old, he always appreciated my dad carrying him around the house, showing him the insides of bedrooms and the pictures on the walls.

What is it about that special bond between grandfather and grandson? It’s not just their same first and last name.

I believe it has a whole lot to do with the fact my dad does a perfect love of expressing love to Jack in a way that Jack can best understand it.

Remember the whole water hose incident last weekend?

Prime example. Put Jack and his Papa together, and they’ll figure out something fun to do.

My son isn’t the Snuggles bear.

But I do think he might be Curious George.

May 29, 2012 at 10:18 pm , by Nick Shell

A year and a half.

Whenever I say or type the phrase “thank you,” I instantly assume I actually just said “f— you.”

To me, the words sound so similar.

It’s not that I’m a vulgar person. In fact, my constant suspicion of my subconscious has much more to do my preoccupation of not being vulgar.

My habit of questioning my automatic actions bleeds into my parenting abilities.

Each time after having just strapped my son into his car seat and starting the ignition, I run the following questions through my head before looking over my shoulder at him:

“Did I actually strap him in all the way? Is he crawling around right now on the floor of my car? Is he outside, behind the car? Will I back over him?”

I just don’t want to commit some huge crime on account of running on autopilot. It’s not that I question my abilities as a dad.

Instead, I question my most unguarded moments in the midst of my daily dad duties. One little slip-up can instantly morph into an avalanche; in regards to protecting the life of my child.

I don’t fear being a bad dad. I fear being a good dad who in one careless moment throws it all away.

What if I somehow accidently cause my son to lose an eye or allow him to choke to death on a piece of bread? What if he suffocates during the night, trapped under his blanket and I’m not there to stop it?

It’s not that I’m overcome by the fear of “what if’s?” but instead, like a good Boy Scout, I always want to be prepared to keep these things from happening.

I want to prevent these catastrophes like Desmond repeatedly saved the life of Charlie on Lost in season 3.

Taking this “2nd guessing concept” a step further in parenting, there are so many controversial topics when it comes to deciding what is right in raising a child.

Are you wrong or right for letting your child “cry it out?” Should you regret letting your child receive immunizations? Why are some parents against letting their toddlers drink juice?

After having made a decision for your child, do you second-guess it or are you proud to have done what is right for you as a parent?

There will always be something to question yourself on as a mom or dad. But it’s my goal to make the best-researched and most-educated decisions and then follow them through.

If I’m wrong for letting my son cry it out, we’ll find out eventually. As for now, I’m confident in how wrong or right I am in my decision.

I just don’t have the mental capacity to honestly worry about that, in particular. I’m too busy trying to make sure I only just said “thank you” and not its evil counterpart.