Go-To-Market Strategy: Finding Teaching Oppotunities Everywhere

No longer is the free cookie at the bakery department our motivation for getting to the market. I’ve really learned that taking your time in an isle may be time consuming but very fun and rewarding if you have the time to begin with….I realize that not everyone can spend two hours at Wegman’s but after growing tired of the stress induced by rushing through the market in an effort to  beat the meltdown clock with a tired and bored little girl who wants to walk, then be carried then be placed in the cart…I decided to view the supermarket as a classroom and as a playground.  It makes for a much less stressful errand… and I no longer get those apathetic looks of annoyance from the masses of fellow shoppers I used to stop just short of smashing into with every turn or acceleration of my cart.

Bringing a shopping list and hunting for items at the grocery store with Catherine has proved not only to be fun but also serve as practical Montessorial exercises in reading, conceptual math and coordination.

Now, we not only look for the specific items we write on the list, but also the appropriate size and weight…which we translate to “units” thanks to our good friends: Team Umizoomi.

Today, I had Catherine sit in the cart while I placed a 1lb bag of rice in her lap. I told her it was 1lb or 1 “unit”. Then I replaced it with a 10lb bag of rice. I plopped it right in her lap while announcing that “This one is 10 units!”.  I asked her to describe what the bags felt like and which one felt heavier. I then began asking her over and over again to make sure and repeated this exercise until she couldn’t stop laughing. The take away here: Bags of rice are “squishy” and 10 units is heavier than 1 unit….and half of the people shopping at the market today probably think I smoke pot.

Analytics: Breaking Down Gender Role "Reversals"

I can’t help but think of my mother (or any other mom I’ve ever known) who never seemed worn from the challenges of keeping a house and raising children. I do remember plenty of performances by my parents that began with the following address to my father (who would be reclined in a chair watching football): “I need some help around here!!!”…but I can also remember thinking …”help with what!?”

Past performances dictates that when a man is the bread-winner of the family, he typically: mows the lawn, shovels the snow, changes light-bulbs, walks the dog, pays the bills, gasses up and fixes the cars, deals with vendors and contractors , etc…  But it now my understanding that when a hard-working woman is the bread-winner of the family, most of these household responsibilities are not assumed…rather they remain the “man’s work”.

Whether this is a result of pre-established gender identity or (as in my wife’s case) simply not having enough time due to an insane work schedule, I still find it pretty interesting.

I can therefore predict that, just because I’m filling, what is traditionally, a woman’s role in child rearing….my wife is not going to suddenly start taking out the trash or turning the lights out downstairs when it’s time to go to bed.

If she gets home early enough and is not feeling like she’s “cutting in” on my routine (I’m often guilty of taking on too much myself and not yielding or asking for help) my wife enjoys making dinner occasionally. Most often, and understandably, my wife prefers to spend some time with our two year old when she walks through the door and If I was working 80 hrs. / day and was able to come home early one day...I’d prefer to have more than just story-time before bed as quality time with my daughter. 

My wife also empties the dishwasher from time to time (although it is, admittedly, her least favorite thing to do on Earth) so now I’m trying to be more conscious about saying “Thank You” for that. Not only because I do appreciate it, but also because I’d like a few more “Thank You’s” myself.  After all... panti-pretzles don’t pick themselves up off the floor you know.

Critical Mass: Dad's Breaking Point

This is my Hell Week.

My wife has been on-call more nights than not and my load has doubled overnight.

I sometimes wonder if what has become a painfully monotonous routine for me, is actually a healthy and stable environment for a two year old….and then I realize that a daddy whose brain is turning into tapioca can’t be healthy for anyone. 

I read somewhere that the human mind craves complex problem solving and if it’s one thing I feel more than anything, it’s the absence of that.

My greatest challenges this week are:

1.)Fighting the feelings of guilt associated with loving my daughter more than anything in the world but simply seeking an end to the adorable but non-stop chatter that often prevents me from being able to form a complete thought and on the occasion I do...actually get it out.

2.) Developing a comfort-level with abandoning any and all game plans at any given moment and completely changing direction on a dime. 

3.) Taking our debilitated dog out to go to the bathroom in the backyard with a little girl. I’ve tried allowing her to stay inside on a couple of occasions when she didn’t want to go outside with me but, to be honest, I just can’t take knowing that something bad could happen to her and I’d never hear it.  When she DOES come outside with me, she demands constant attention and the look of complete heartbreak rises up in her when I don’t rush to collect the leaves... or dandelions... or whatever she’s found and lovingly offered to me as a present.

It's not so easy to quell my inner riot when I'm trying to get a dog which is mirroring my energy and lacking full use of it’s hind legs, to relax long enough in order to generate a solid bowel movement...  and at the same time, mentally prepare for the possibility of having to give our 120lb long-haired dog a bath in the event her shit gets all over her fur…as it usually does when she has diarrhea as a result of stress. That's an intimate moment neither of us enjoys. 

4.) Taking a shower. Frequently, when I’m in the shower, I suffer a level of anxiety that seems just a bit north of rational. I’m paranoid that something horrible is going to happen and I’m not going to hear it. I imagine my daughter bleeding out or not being able to breathe as a result of some accident that has just occurred close-by without my even knowing. Sometimes I think I hear a thud or her crying out and I’ll back away from the showerhead ...or worse, run out of the shower (as I have done on several occasions) only to find her quietly playing with her i pad... safe and sound) It’s kinda like being so sure you hear your cell phone ringing….so you stop for a second… and listen… intently… and then realize it never did. Well…I guess it’s like that... times 1000.