Tag: kids

Daylight Savings blows, 2025 edition

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

At around 5:20 am, I heard #1 outside my bedroom door, panicking in the dark about how she couldn’t find her sister.  The fact that my child was out of her room in the pitch black of the morning was enough to get me to pop out of my bed, but upon hearing that my other child was allegedly missing immediately put me into a state of panic myself.

Worse off, for some reason there was a light on in my sunroom, which I knew wasn’t the case when I went to bed because I’m neurotic and always make sure all lights are off prior to going upstairs; I would later discover that there was a power surge during the night, and since that room’s lights are controlled via remote control, it light switch is usually in the on position permanently, and stuff like power surges or outages usually result in lights coming on upon reconnection.  However, I didn’t know this, and it immediately put the fear of god into me that #2 was in some sort of danger.

I walked #1 back into their (we let them sleep in the same room on weekends sometimes, on the unfolded futon) room to have her wait for me while I would investigate downstairs, but upon entering the room, there’s #2 snuggled up like a little taquito on the futon already, still sleeping.  Relieved, I set #1 back onto the futon as well, covered her, gave her a kiss on the head, reminded her that it was the middle of the night and hope she bought it, and implored her to go back to sleep; she didn’t need to know her circadian rhythm was correct at thinking it should be 6:20 am, when she’s normally up for school on weekdays, because obviously I really wanted to get some more fucking sleep.

Nope, by 5:30 am, I can hear activity on the baby monitor, both girls are now awake, and it’s only a matter of seconds before I hear doors opening and shutting, and #1 is marching back into my bedroom, with moments later, #2 freaking out in the darkness of the hallway, wondering where everyone is.  I bring them both into the master, and get them into our bed, in between mama and dada, hoping they might actually go the fuck back to sleep for a little bit longer.

Naturally, that doesn’t happen, and by 5:40, I give up, get out of bed, usher the kids downstairs, and concede that the day is now beginning.

The thing is, I actually had a tentative plan about this morning, because I figured there would be some monkey business with the time change, and the chances of me having breakfast ready for awakening kids wasn’t going to be high, which was that we were definitely, going to go to Waffle House because who doesn’t love Waffle House?

It’s just I was not anticipating them to be getting up within the 5 o’clock hour, but here we were.

It actually wasn’t that terrible, I got them dressed and we were at Waffle House by like 6:30 adjusted time, and I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised that we were not the only customers there.  They were definitely the only kids there, and a part of me was hoping to have seen some other parents under similar circumstances having the same plan that I did, but alas, it was just me who was carting my kids out at this ungodly bullshit adjusted time.

But the point remains, daylight savings remains the antichrist, and it’s abundantly clear that the people in the BC years who came up with the idea were a bunch of selfish fucks who either did not have children, or had the privilege or were bad parents enough to not take into consideration the effects of the time change on parents who did have children.  And I hate them for all eternity and hope their descendants are wholly unimpressive pleebs who have nagging gastrointestinal issues.

I like to imagine that if the originators of daylight savings actually had any children, that they were obligated to actually care for, ranging from ages 0-7 years of age, they would think twice about the whole concept of rolling clocks back and fucking with their circadian rhythms and suddenly having to deal with them at ridiculously early AM hours, while people under most other circumstances would still be getting to sleep, regardless of what hour it actually was.

And as I’ve said before, I didn’t care much for it prior to children, but now that I do have kids, I fucking loathe it, and I like to think I’m pretty serious about sticking to my claim that I’d vote for absolutely anyone who prioritized the abolishment of this bullshit antiquated concept, including, those Somali pirates.

The complaining will likely happen yearly, until either this bullshit program is killed off, or my kids get to the age where they want to sleep in, and therefore my entire house can actually benefit from the rollback instead of bemoaning it.  Not going to bet on the former, though.

Dad Brog (#157): the shittiest morning possible

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

Full disclosure, I don’t write this with any sort of anger or festering rage about the morning that I had, but more with astonishment that such a morning could have been had that I have no other option than to write about it, primarily to one day be able to recall this to embarrass the ever-living snot out of my child.

But long story short, one of my kids absolutely pooped all over themselves this morning while sleeping, and naturally it was me who discovered it, me who had to deal with it, and me who had to clean everything up.

For real though, I wasn’t mad about it at all, because something like this happening, the first question was, and should be, is everything okay?  The answer was quickly discovered to be yes, but it was rather a child who was too afraid of monsters in the dark to get out of bed to take care of their bowels, probably compounded on top of being in a state of deep sleep, and instead just soiled their bed and slept in it.

Regardless, given the fact that on any given morning, cleaning up a ton of poop isn’t typically a part of the routine, I had to pivot and quickly resign myself to the fact that the morning was going to be delayed, and that the recovery of my child was priority.  I took them into my walk-in shower to use the flexible showerhead to give them a nice warm cleansing, got them dressed and started with breakfast before I had to go back upstairs to really survey the damage and get to work.

White people, would be quick to declare the sheets and comforter a complete loss at this point, but me, not being white, and knowing that I can rescue these things on account of the fact that I’m not a pussy and afraid to get children’s poop on my hands, took the soiled sheets also into the walk-in shower and gave them some good scrubs, and pretty much salvaged them.  I still need to give them a through spin through the washing machine, but by the day’s end, they should be ready to be back on my kid’s bed as if there was no Armageddon in the first place.

I coached my child that they should never be afraid to call out for me on the monitor in the middle of the night if they have to go potty, and that under no circumstances will I ever be mad at them for waking me up in the middle of the night to take care of business.  Quite the contrary, I would be super stoked and happy, and I mimicked the groggy, but rejoiceful reaction I would give them should they ever take my up on the offer, and hopefully they will in the future to avoid such similar mornings.

But good lord almighty, what a nightmare scenario of a morning to encounter.  I still feel like I can smell it in my brain to this very moment.  Truly a literal, top-3 shittiest mornings of all-time in my parenting career; and honestly I’m hard pressed to even recall two other poop nightmare mornings to round out a top-3, which means this might really have been the shittiest morning of all time, by default.

I look forward to this post circling back eventually on my On This Day plug-in, so I can troll remind them of the bullshit they put me through when they were but literal babies when they’re older, so they can really appreciate the kind of dad that I’m trying to be.

Dad Brog (#156): I am a better parent than you

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

…at the park, at least.

With the weather getting nicer (read: not balls sticking to your leg hot anymore), I’ve really wanted to capitalize and let my kids play outside more, before it starts getting to be too chilly for outdoor play.  That said, usually on weekends where there’s really nothing on the agenda, I’ll take my kids to one of the numerous parks in my area where they can run around and play on a playground, burn some energy, and interact with other kids.

It’s not at all surprising, but it’s still a little disappointing for me to see, but whenever we go to most any park, it’s almost always the same scene; kids running around and being kids, and their parents usually posted up on a park bench, aimlessly looking at their phones.

Obviously I get it, and sometimes there’s little else I’d rather be doing than doing the same thing and indulging in mindless content and memes and games as opposed to having to be on in dad-mode as if I’m not already in dad-mode for the other 90% of my life when I’m not working.  And I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t occasionally look at my phone myself when at the park with my kids, or if I’m lucky enough to be there with another trusted adult, indulging a little bit myself.

However the thing is that my phone is absolutely not the primary thing I’m paying attention to while at the park at my kids, because my kids are what I’m paying the most attention to while at the park.  Making sure they stay safe, making sure they’re getting along well with other kids or each other, and making sure nobody else’s little shits are bullying my kids.  And of course, I’ll play with my kids as well, whether they want me to chase them and play tag, push them on swings, or if they want my assistance at doing some of the things that they’re apprehensive about, like monkey bars, rope bridges, or climbing higher things.

Not that any of my fellow parents who have resigned themselves to phone zombie status would even notice, but it’s like I kind of make a point to be more active, more present and more focused on my children, because even at 5 and 4 years old, I already feel like time has zipped by, my kids are enormous, and the next time I blink, they’ll be teenagers too cool to be with their parents, and will outwardly resent and hate everything I do despite remembering they still love me.  I love watching their faces when they come down a slide, or hearing their laughter when they’re playing with each other or other kids, because I know this isn’t forever.

And I’ll even indulge other parents’ kids, if they’re playing with mine, and I’m typically happy to engage them in tag, or push them on swings or see-saws or merry-go-rounds.  Occasionally I’ll look up to see if other parents are cool with such, only to see them face-buried in their phones, completely checked out and handed off, which I find to be kind of sad.

Yeah, this does make me feel like I have a right to say that I’m a better parent than those who don’t do close to what I do, and are completely at peace with handing their kids off to the park so they can get some phone time in.  Your kids will be grown in the blink of an eye too, and if you don’t have any memories of casually playing outside with your own kids, then that’s your regret to hold and lament about, not mine. 

I typically save my phone time to when we’re at home, and I’m letting my kids get some screen time in; this is usually the time in which I indulge in my phone, while they’re watching Little Einsteins or Superkitties for the 250th time.  But when I’m outside with my kids, it’s important to me to be vigilant and be active and be participating in the things that they’re doing, and yes I do judge all the other parents who don’t and feel bad for the disingenuous memories that they’ll have for the future where they won’t be able to remember the sheer jubilation or excitement on their kids’ faces when they’re having fun, because they didn’t see them.

It’s never too late to become better.

Shitty game alert for parents #2: Crazy 8’s by GamesHub

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

I don’t know how my family came upon this game, but when my kids brought it out and asked if they could play, my knee-jerk reaction was, oh cool, this seems like a pretty age-appropriate game that my kids can probably get.  But after about 15 minutes and the game not ending, my mind started formulating this post, and pondering that if I really wanted to commit, I could probably create a lengthy series of questionable toys/games being made, for the kids of today.

The premise of Crazy 8’s is kind of like a really junior-fied version of Uno; the cards have colors and numbers, and the objective of the game is to empty out your hand before everyone else.  8’s act as the wild cards that the player who plays it can dictate what number or color comes next.  There is no calling for Uno, nor are their any malicious Draw Twos or Fours, but the way the game is, there may as well be Draw Twelve, due to the systemic flaws of this game in general.

In all fairness, it’s not really so much a shitty game as it is just poorly balanced and becomes a nigh impossible game to win under certain conditions, especially when playing against a five- and four-year-olds who want to try and bend the rules as soon as their attention span begins to wane.

Basically, there is an extremely disproportionate amount of yellow and greens versus all the other colors; 12 yellows, eight greens, four reds, blues, pinks and four eights.  The number 10 cards effectively add four yellows and blues due to them being two digits of different colors, but the point remains that there are way too many yellows and greens, and not enough of any other color.

As games progress, and everyone gets a gist of the rules, inevitably player 1 has no reds or pinks after another player 2 plays an 8 and asks for one of them, so player 1 keeps picking cards until they can find a red or a pink or an eight, but because there’s so few number of cards in general, player 2 or 3 is already sitting on all the reds and pinks, so player 1 ends up with a boatload of yellows or greens, and the game turns into this perpetual stalemate of changing up the colors with eights, nobody having the swapped color, and then another eight being played on top of it, and asking for a color that nobody else has.

My kids and I have played five games of this, two of which I won, #2 won once, and the other two my kids losing interest because they wouldn’t ever end.  My kids became wise enough to the game’s system to know that I probably had all the green cards, and every time I played an eight and declared the next card to be green, they’d just draw out enough cards to get another eight, and switch it back to pink, and then the cycle would just repeat until we realized it was a push.

Even expanding on the rules and trying to incorporate accessories like party hats or glasses as a variable to switch things up fell flat, because there just aren’t enough cards or variables to make it a viable expansion.

Either way, this is a game that has some potential, but the lowest of ceilings of quality before any players with brains basically break it due to critical systemic flaws.

So, shitty game alert it has, and I would advise all other parents not to spend any money on this, and even consider covertly regifting it if acquired as a gift.

Dad Brog (#155): the 2025 Famiry Disney Cruise

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

I’m a day removed from having gotten off of the Disney Treasure, and hoo boy do I really feel my age these days.  For the first time in all of the cruises that I’ve done before, did I feel a little motion sick on a cruise before, but thankfully that was very short lived, and I was able to sleep it off and remain normal throughout the duration of the trip.  Driving back home all the way directly from Port Canaveral, I found my back hurting pretty badly to the point where I had to take some ibuprofen, thus making it the first time that I’ve needed painkillers, just to make a long distance drive, something I’ve done countless times in my life previously.

And unsurprising, the sea legs sensation of feeling boat rocking on solid land is hitting hard, and it’s mostly when I’m standing still or trying to remain as motionless as possible does the rocking sensation kick in, and I anticipate this will be the case for the next week or so, as it has been for me on previous cruises.

But anyway, big ass famiry trip in the bag, and do I have a lot of thoughts about it.  As curmudgeon as it may sound to say, I don’t necessarily refer to this entirely as a vacation, because the truth of the matter is that wrangling my two kids, on a boat, is still a colossal amount of effort that leads to a lot of aggravation at times, and I’d be lying if I didn’t get fried and pissed off at undesirable behaviors throughout the week long journey through the Caribbean on an egregiously overpriced boat.

#2 hijacked almost every single evening of the trip, mostly on account of fatigue and a lack of napping, but it usually amounted to her refusing to eat, behaving like a little shit at dinner, and then me needing to walk her out of the restaurants or carry her from point A to point B, and thusly being unable to really enjoy large chunks of time.  I don’t love her any less, but that’s about as succinct of a description of what happened throughout the course of this trip.

Oh, and I’m sure she’ll never live this down, she also barfed on the very literal center of the boat; in the grand hall of the main concourse, right at the center of the stage, where they had a photographer taking pictures of guests.  Immortalized, and definitely one of those stories that we as parents will always be able to recollect whenever we want to embarrass her in the future.

Still though, there’s little I won’t do for my kids and famiry, and despite the fact that I was probably burning out more than I was at any state remotely close to relaxation, there were still numerous pockets of happiness that makes it all worth it, and when the day is over, I want my kids to experience things and see things and visit places, and in those regards, it’s easy to say that the trip was a success. 

My children stepped foot onto the soil of other countries, experienced things that aren’t easily available to us elsewhere, and they got to experience a boatload of things that made them smile, rejoice or just be plain happy to see a bunch of Disney characters.  As a famiry, we went swimming with stingrays and sea stars, ate a ton of decadent foods, and enjoyed beaches, pools and a whole lot of fucking sunshine.

Some other observations about the trip were that this was apparently a tremendously busy cruise on account of two major factors:

  • It was the fall break for numerous school districts in the country, with a large quantity of them being from Georgia; I’m not even joking if I said that probably 2-3 fifths of the cruising populous were from Georgia, with quite a bunch of them being from my county specifically. The shore excursion we went on, our boat was literally over half from my exact zip code, as we were all on the same fall break.  Mythical wife even had one of her own students’ family assigned two tables away from us, so we saw them literally every single night.
  • This particular cruise was a Halloween at Seas cruise, which meant that there was a specific evening dedicated to Halloween, complete with characters all donning Halloween costumes, décor changing to be Halloween themed, and most importantly for the littles, trick or treating on the ship.

However, let’s stay on that latter bullet, because I feel like that was a big contributor to what I did not necessarily enjoy about my cruise experience as a whole.

Continue reading “Dad Brog (#155): the 2025 Famiry Disney Cruise” →

That “as long as I’m living” part seems ominous

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

Toronto Star: Author Robert Munsch, currently 80 years old, approved for MAID which is medical assistance in dying, intends to go out on his own terms

This wouldn’t be the first time Robert Munsch has been brought up in the brog, as at one time, and I still fully believe, that one of his iconic works, Love You Forever, should come with a trigger warning, because for people like me, it’s impossible to make it through reading the book without breaking down into uncontrollable sobbing.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s a marvelously beautiful book, and something that all parents who genuinely love their kids should (attempt to) read to their kids in their lives, but at least for me, it’s moving to the point where even just thinking about it right now has gotten my eyes a little bit watery.

Anyway, I came across the news that up in Canada where he lives, he has been approved for MAID, which for lack of a better term is legal assisted suicide, in the sense that he is being allowed to end his own life.  I mean, it’s a lot of murky area and the details are in the terminology, but the end result is that he is voluntarily ending his own life at his choosing.

Ordinarily, I’ve not minced words how I’ve felt about people in time who have committed suicide, which is that I think it’s a coward’s way out.  But all the details around the news of Munsch’s approved MAID are definitely different, and are kind of like, at least for me, uncharted waters when it comes to thinking about how everything is proposed to go in the near future.

Long story short, Munsch is 80, has both dementia and Parkinson’s and has already witnessed what a slow expiration looks like, seeing his brother succumb to ALS.  If there were ever someone who should get a little grace and understanding of why he might want to be able to go out on his own terms, it’s Munsch.

And the more I think about it, in spite of my general disapproval of suicide in general, I think the idea of MAIDs is substantially different, and despite the fact that both end with the expiration of life, the circumstances, intentions and executions seem different enough to where it’s not nearly as, negatively connoted.

Like in the case of Munsch, I’d hope that in the times where he’s still lucid and sound of mind, he’s been getting affairs in order, got all his legal loose ends tied up, wills, trusts, inheritances, etc.  And if and when his afflictions begin to worsen, and in his own words,

when I start having real trouble talking and communicating. Then I’ll know.

…I imagine things will (hopefully) go rather smoothly, albeit no less tragic and devastating at the sheer reality that a life will be ending.

However, here’s the one thing that I do still find a little bit concerning about MAIDs:

He said a date has not been set yet, but he has to choose while he can still actively consent.

Like, how does anyone choose a date in which they voluntarily end their own life?  As progressively compassionate the potential of MAIDs provide, it still seems a little short-sighted and rigid to make a person set a date.  Maybe I’m missing something here, but I feel like this is probably more likely to be a game-time decision, or something very close to it, and not necessarily something that a person has to lock in, weeks, months or even years in advance.

As I said, there’s so much gray area and so many hypotheticals, that way smarter people, and actual legal ones at that, have probably presented the whole idea of MAIDs in the first place as legally tight as they can make it, regardless of the subject matter of the whole concept.

On the flip side, there seems to be potential for a person on their way out to have an unprecedented farewell tour, to life, and it be completely legal, or at least without any personnel trying to stop you.  Hopefully, Munsch and his family have a bucket list of things that they want to experience and accomplish, and it not be too complicated if and when the inevitable proposed go-time approaches.

The bottom line is that as sad as the whole thing is on account of the main thing being the expiration of a life, in this particular instance, I can’t say that I blame Robert Munsch for going in this direction.  I know that if my mind were going, and I couldn’t remember my kids, my wife or my family, and my body were deteriorating to where I was falling regularly, I’d begin to think that maybe I’ve had a pretty full-ass life, and perhaps it would be best for all parties involved that I left the party and everyone else could exhale and move on with their lives without me and all my burdens putting everyone’s lives on hold.

However, I will say that when thinking about the song from I Love You Forever:

I’ll love you forever
I’ll like you for always
As long as I’m living
My baby you’ll be

That third line, as long as I’m living, is something that I don’t necessarily agree with, because I like to believe that even after I kick it, whatever afterlife or aether where my soul or essence of life that might be swirling around somewhere, the love for my kids will still be around, and as I tell my girls regularly, they’ll always be my babies.

And with that, I have to wrap up this post, lest I be reduced to full on start sobbing about this sad topic.

Dad Brog (#153): the State of Parenting

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

I realize that as the passage of time has progressed over the last five years, the frequency in which I’ve written these very dad-centric brog posts have petered off.  As much as how things change, the amount in which I write is one of those things that I don’t want to ever fall into that category, but such can’t necessarily be said about the topics in which I do write about.

However, over the last few weeks, part of my chaotic morning routine includes checking the sheets of both my kids when I wake them up, because this household is now diaper-free, and has been for the better part of the last few months now, and now we’re at the stage of life where they’re going to bed without any safety nets, and bedwetting is very much in play. 

I realize that at one point I probably was planning on making a dad post about the glory about no longer needing diapers at all, but it’s been pretty seamless into feeling relief, mostly financial, at the fact that we don’t have to participate in the escalating cost of diapers and always needing them, but going into night-training where there are periods of time in which we have more wet beds than not in the mornings, and the new aggravation and disappointment of having to do laundry just about every single day has taken its place.

But yeah, we’re trying everything we can at this point to expedite the process, like cutting off water consumption at a certain time, repeatedly taking them to the bathroom before lights out, and even trying to incentivize having as many dry nights as possible to get each kid closer to upgrading to big kids’ beds, to the point where we’ve even taken them to a store to look at beds to give them understanding of what awaits once they get their bedwetting under control.

However, like I said, there are times in which it feels like it’s never going to improve although I know it eventually will.  At the time I’m writing this, both kids are on like a four-day streak in the wrong direction, with sheets being wet every morning, and there’s a part of me that’s debating on whether or not to have the kids go back into overnights although I definitely won’t cave, I’d be lying if I didn’t think it.

Unsolicited parenting tip for those going through a similar journey: dog pads.  Stashed under the fitted sheet primarily where the child sleeps, they’re low profile and effective at preventing any overnight leakage from soaking into the mattress itself.  Costco has the biggest bang for the buck, and if you’re like me, you’re going to need them during this stretch.  Perhaps in the future there will be a dad brog championing the lack of need for these that I’ll never get to.

Otherwise, as mentioned in the dad brog prior to this one, my eldest is now in kindergarten, officially in elementary school.  #2 still has one more year of pre-K to complete before joining her sister, and my wallet will definitely be thrilled to not have to pay the cost of private pre-K, but it doesn’t change the fact that it is a truly fantastic school to send my kids to.

But as a dad to a five and four year olds, I have to admit that this is probably one of the hardest stretches of being a parent I’ve felt in a while.  Mostly on account of the fact that my kids are at an age where they’re tapping into their wills, which are extremely strong, and it results in a lot of just not listening, a lot of fighting, and a whole lot of exasperation on my end.

I admit to getting flustered and frustrated more than I want to be, but it’s like asking my kids to do anything is usually like having to ask no less than 13 times, occasionally requiring some sort of bargaining or threatening to leave without them, which results in a separate meltdown, and if I weren’t afraid of losing my hair, I’d be pulling it out on a regular basis.

Bath time, bed time, time to go, time to do anything usually results in a whole lot of defiance if not straight up not listening, and I’m finding myself exasperated pretty much any time I have to try and get my kids to do anything.  Getting them to leave a store, while holding my hands in the parking lot, while trying to steer a shopping cart – by the time I’m in the driver’s seat pulling out, I’m pissed and sweaty and not wanting to speak to my kids, and my kids are upset that I’ve probably had to raise my voice at them because they’re not listening.

And then after bedtime when the dust settles, I think about how much I love my kids and how shitty I feel about having ever gotten exasperated with them.  Their motives aren’t ever malicious or remotely detrimental, it’s usually they just want to explore, experience or spend more time with the family instead of going to bed or getting into the car, or being told what to do, regardless of it’s for safety purposes or not.

Yet when it inevitably happens the following day, and then the day after that, it’s like the cycle that keeps perpetuating itself.  I love my kids more than anything on the planet, but damn if they don’t get on my nerves sometimes, and I can’t help but feel exasperated when they just don’t listen to anything.

I know most everything when it comes to parenting happens in phases and all things that annoy will eventually come to pass eventually, but I’ll be the first to admit that this current juncture of parenting definitely has been patience-testing almost as much as how things were pre-pandemic, pre-au pair, when I was having to do double duty, an inordinate amount of time.

And then I’m sure there will come a point in my life where I’ll look back at miss these young formative years, and try to remember all the good times that came from them as opposed to all of the stuff that I let bother me, and maybe then I’ll write Dad Brog #181 then.