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Ben finally finished his swimming classes. Wow, how 9 weeks flies by. There are no passes or fails, just check marks. Ben managed to get a check mark on all the categories. But he still can’t swim. He can’t even put his head underwater yet. When we do (accidentally), he inhales. Not the reaction we want underwater. So, we just need to get him use to being in the water. Lucky for us, we have a salt water pool in our condo. We plan to get him in the pool at least once a week. The “puker” will learn to swim soon!

Oh ya, Ben’s got the nickname a few weeks back when he “fouled” the kiddie pool at Centennial Community Centre. Sheila didn’t follow the “one hour rule” (ie. don’t eat anything one hour prior to swimming). I guess it applies to infants as well. Ben was fed 30 mins prior to entering the pool. Suffice to say, the milk didn’t stay in his stomach long. Sheila caught most of it in her hand, and she managed to “scoop” most of it out of the pool, but another mother (we’ll just call her the “screamer”) called out “He puked in the pool”, pointing at Ben. Well, the lifeguard had to evacuate the entire kiddy pool! Police tape went up like it was a fricken crime scene! All the kids were shuffled into the adult pool where the lessons continued. The “puker” was born

A few years ago, Sheila and I were taking the elevator down to the ground floor when on the 16th floor, a woman and her two little dogs came into the elevator. I looked down at the little dogs and commented “Oh, what a chubby little dog?”. To the horror of “Dog Girl”, she responded with, “He’s not fat!”. “No, you’re not sweetheart”, turning to her FAT little purse dog. Then the long awkward ride down to the ground floor continued…in silence.

She hasn’t spoken a word to me ever since, even when we ride the elevator together. I’m going to profile Dog Girl as a single white female (never seen her with a man, even on the streets), lives alone with her dogs and an intravert. She rarely smiles but that can be attributed to the fact that I’ve affended a member of her immediate family, Fat Dog.

So, let’s fast forward a years. Ben and I were coming home from a stroll in the neighbourhood, and low and behold, who do we have the luxury of riding the elevator with? You got it, DOG GIRL! Here’s a play-by-play by floor:

Ground floor: Damn elevator 1 door takes forever to close (always). Ben stares up at Dog Girl. She smiles at him. Door closes.
Third floor: She muscles up some courage and asks, “How old is he?”
Fourth floor: I smile and say he’s almost 4 months.
Fifth floor: With a devious smirk, she responds, “Wow, he’s quite big for 4 months” (thinking I might be offended by her statement)
Sixth floor: “Ya, he’s pretty HUGE!” was my response. Her disappointment proved evident in her facial expression.

The long awkward elevator ride continues to the 16th floor…in silence. “See ya” was all I could mustard up. Dog Girl just smiled and exited the elevator.

At 17lb and 6oz, Ben continues to defy the growth charts and propel himself above the 90 percentile. And if he were to wrestle Fat Dog, Ben would still win!

This is for those parents who have daughters…

So, there it was. Sheila’s first MOTHER’S DAY! With all its glory and pageantry, I think I came out of it looking like a rock star. Sheila spent 3 hours at the spa while Ben and I spent the afternoon making her first mother’s day card (or trying at least). The grand plan was to have Ben’s hand prints on the card itself. His aunt Patti bought a kit that you can either plaster his hand/footprint or paint them onto plaster. So, I attempted to do the paint thing. What a disaster!

In the picture on the box of the kit, it looks so simple. You mix the plaster (or paint the kid’s hand), and then you just press the child’s foot/hand into the plaster. SIMPLE!!

Ya right! The kid in the picture must have been tranquilized with a dart of some sort. No infant I’ve seen in my short “dad” life has been able to sit still, especially when you put foreign substances on their feet or hands. Their first reaction is to squeeze or move. Suffice to say, by the end of my adventure to put hand prints on Sheila’s card, I had paint on both hands, Ben had paint on one hand and parts of his body (yes, I planned ahead and made sure Ben’s clothes were off…I knew it was going to be messy). The real fun happened when he tried to put his hands into his mouth…his dad’s quick reflexes prevented a near catastrophe!

 In the end, the one and only attempt at a hand print turned into something resembling nothing like a hand and more of a “blob”. Sheila got her card and pretty nails to match!

A conversation in our office brought about the following list. I’m pretty sure there are thousands of other things that can be written, but here is what I’ve put together at lunch.

Here is a list of things that you don’t hear guys say to each other:

• “So, when are you and your wife procreating?”
• “Last night I dreamt that your wife and I….”
• “Yesterday on Oprah…”
• “This daiquiri is amazing!”
• “Those pumps look really nice on you”
• “Did you get those at Winners?”
• “Nice murse!”
• “Let’s go to the washroom together. I have something to tell you”
• “It must be HIS time of the month”

I love food! I’ll eat almost anything now; that wasn’t the case growing up. But over the decades, I’ve learned to appreciate the foods we grew up with (but hated as a child). I’m willing to taste anything once, just so that I can say I’ve tried it and either like it, hate it, or just “it doesn’t agree with my palette”…which means I hate it.

I’ve never had any inclination to try Sheila’s breast milk. What if it’s gross? I could lose my status as a “breast guy”. What if I liked it? I can’t compete with Ben for his only food source? I’d lose! Besides, Sheila probably wouldn’t want her 2 best men sucking away her hard work…at least not the older one. So, I’ve stayed away. The thought hasn’t even crossed my mind to try it….UNTIL LAST WEEK!

During a brief feeding moment, Ben was passed out after feeding for about 5 minutes. I was just picking stuff up around the room, when I noticed that Sheila was “dripping”. So, spontaneity took over and I asked if I can lick it up. Sheila was somewhat shocked, but obliged.

In the span of 3 seconds, I had questioned 1) what was this going to taste like, 2) how was the nipple going to feel and 3) is Sheila going to…but before I could finish the last question, I had 2 drops on my tongue. That was it!!

The verdict! IT’S SWEET!! It’s warm too! I can see why Ben prefers the boob over the bottle!  To be honest, I was kind of shocked to taste how sweet it was. I expected something plain like soy milk.

So, there it is! Ben’s main food source is sweet. He won’t have to compete with his dad. I don’t have a sweet tooth

Besides, it’s that milk that’s made him at a healthy 17lbs, 3oz today!!