Parenting from the Up Side Down: The Wait is Over...

"Monday, Monday," the Mamas and the Papas sang, and I think what they were trying to say is "Mondays suck, they always have." As a kid going to school, an employee going to work, and now as a stay-at-home dad enjoying the luxury of co-parenting on the weekends, Monday's quite simply blow. Being a dad is still the best job I've ever had, but it's definitely designed for two or more people. When Carrie's home, we both get to share in the joys but more importantly we get to give each other timely and necessary breaks. Monday then becomes a transition, a mental shift to accepting that the breaks may not come.

Today they didn't.

Normally Amari will either take a couple hour-long naps, or an epic mid-dayer, but today she slept for all of forty minutes. Normally, Grannie C will give me an hour or so to get some exercise or do some chores, but today she had her own break-free day of chores and errands. Normally, I feel rested, even energized after six hours of sleep, but today no amount of caffeine, or sing-along books, or pre-game World Series hype could get me going. Normally, Amari makes up for all of this with her ever-changing, always engaging, sometimes surprising personality...

Today was no exception.

When I arrived at the Calvert's for Amari's morning socialization, even though the Giants were one win away from their first World Series Championship since moving to San Francisco, I was feeling pretty blah. That changed in an instant. Little Hunter, whose behavior was exceptional when we saw him yesterday, continued to be sweet and loving during the early part of our visits. Although Amari isn't terribly into his lingering hugs, it's better than him hitting her. I think her boundary setting of flailing her arms aggressively in his general direction may have gotten through to him after all.

Toward the end of our visit, however, Hunter came up to Amari who was sitting in front of me, reached his arm back and whacked me instead. I may or may not have given him a stern, "No," but what I do remember is that Amari jumped to my defense and whacked him several times in a row. For a moment I was disappointed, a feeling which was quickly replaced with pride at her loyalty. Not to give away the ending of the blog, but I think I felt a little like Barry Bonds when the Giants finally won the World Series tonight. I couldn't do it myself, but it was nice to see the organization get the job done. Good work, Amari. You get a big fat contract extension.

Monday was beginning to look brighter

Later on, in the wake of a whining binge coupled with finicky food refusal, I decided it would be best if Amari and I ran some errands with Grannie C just to get out of the house. To preface this story a bit, Amari has begun saying a couple of words. Her first word, although at first we weren't entirely sure she knew what it meant, "Hel-la," a greeting she commonly used when she'd see Grannie's horse or donkey or dogs. Later it evolved into a greeting for everyone, and we reinforced it by repeating it back to her. Today, while we waited for Grannie C in the car, I said, "Hello Amari," and she said, "Hel-la." I asked, "Hello Dada?" and she forever endeared herself to me by slowly saying, "Hel-la Da...Da."

It was awesome. It almost made up for a complete lack of naps.

And finally, my beloved San Francisco Giants are the 2010 World Series Champions.
When I was a kid my dad raised/brainwashed me into loving all things Los Angeles. I was Dodgers fan by the time I was six, a Lakers fan by the time a could pronounce Abdul-Jabbar, and a Rams fan by the time I could feather my hair a la Vince Ferragamo. In the days before free-agency, I could count on the Dodgers infield of Garvey, Lopes, Russell, and Cey remaining intact more than my own family. I admired Cey's hitting, Lopes's speed, Russell's fielding, and Garvey's giant forearms. I was never any good at baseball myself, but when I imagined being anyone of these players striking out somehow felt a little bit better.

My first baseball game was a late summer Giants-Dodgers double header at Candlestick Park. I don't remember who won, but I do remember a Dodgers fan being so brutally heckled and pelted with sunflower seeds that he left by the fifth inning. I also remember my dad buying us Dodgers hats and asking the same hecklers if they would allow us to wear them. The bleacher bums sized up my four year-old brother and my slightly broad six year-old frame and said, "The kids can, but not you."

As I grew older and began to make my own decisions, a couple of things happened simultaneously to convert me into a nearly life-long Giants fan. First and foremost, I was raised in the Bay Area and quickly realized that loving anything below San Luis Obispo was not a good way to make friends. Second, the Los Angeles Rams moved St. Louis. And third, the San Francisco Giants put together a lovable team with characters like Will Clark, Matt Williams, and Woody. Winning attracts new fans, and I was no exception. The Dodgers won in '88 and I was happy for them, but the conversion had already begun. By the time the Giants made the World Series in 1989 I was wearing orange and black.

And not just on Halloween.

Speaking of which, before I close this entry, rather than telling you how cute Amari was in her first Halloween costume, let me just show you.

Congratulations San Francisco - you've waited a long time for this. Enjoy the celebration.