Category: Television & Movies

In about 8 hours, it’ll be boys’ night here at Casa Green! My wife’s going to a postal workers’ convention, or she’s going postal at a workers’ convention, or she’s working on going conventionally postal or something. At any rate, she won’t be here all weekend, but Evan and I will, and, of course, Obi and Olivia will be hanging out too. As much as I sometimes get frustrated being “stuck” with the baby when there’s someone else inthe house who could be taking him off my hands for a bit, I don’t find myself feeling that way when it’s just the two of us and I know it’ll continue to be just the two of us. There’s a different psychological expectation there, I suppose – you know you’re running a marathon with no chance for relief, so there’s no light mocking you whilst standing perfectly still at the other end of the tunnel.

I just spent the better part of the last two hours listening to this SyFy Radio podcast, which is actually a bit of a hard news piece about the ignominious and not-just-a-little-bit-suspicious collapse of a recent convention in Dallas (the show was cancelled mid-morning on the day that it started!). It’s fascinating listening, though one’s advised to also visit Syfyportal.com and read the accompanying text articles for some additional context. But it’s a lot of drama, and it’s a legitimate news topics because a lot of people lost a lot of money – and may or may not have realized that the wizard behind the curtain of this show was the same fella who solicited donations to save Star Trek: Enterprise back in 2005. Between this and Flack’s podcast (which has just done its fifth installment), I’m reminded – cruelly – of how much I’d like to take on the podcasting beast and try to tame it, and then I hear my son roll over noisily in his crib and remember why I don’t even think about podcasting most days. At this rate I don’t think I could even guest on anyone else’s podcast. I mean, unless you people really want me to start podcasting baby feeding sessions…I mean, what’m I gonna use my old Radio Voice for now? Public service announcements about not misplacing your binky?

Evan’s entering that Extremely Clingy Stage of separation anxiety that little ones go through anywhere from the 8-month mark on; supposedly this passes at around the 1-year mark. Can’t wait for that. It’s not that I mind keeping him company all the time, but there are some times – i.e. showering, cleaning litterboxes, engaging in the taking of a dump, loading the dishwasher – that it’s just impractical, if not impossible, to haul him around and get this other stuff done that needs to happen. (Especially the dumps. Those are way important.) Basically, he’s at the stage where, if you set him down and then step out of sight to do something, he starts shrieking because he’s been left alone. Sometimes you just have to let him cry it out, because this stuff has to get done, but it makes me feel like the Worst Dad Ever. I don’t ever see this happen with Evan’s mom, so I guess it’s official: he looks at me and sees, more or less, his primary support system. The feeder of baby food, changer of diapers, mixer of bottles, and the bringer of darkness (i.e. the guy who keeps putting him down for a nap every 3-4 hours). If someone had told me, this time two years ago, that any child on this planet would ever look at me that way, I would have happily told them that they needed their head examined pronto.

One thing I’m thinking about doing, though, is putting a curtain over the “long” end of his crib – i.e. the side that faces the bed across the room where I sleep. In the mornings, if he wakes up early, he’ll sometimes be content to just sit up and play with the stuffed animals in his crib. But if he sees me move, even if I’m turning over in my sleep, GAME OVER, time to wake up! Get up, dad! I saw you move! I know you’re awake! FEED ME! 😆 He’s suddenly been getting up at about a quarter to five, ready to eat, which isn’t my favorite time of day to wake up. Where he gets this early bird trait genetically, I don’t know – it ain’t on my side of the family. 😛

One last baby note: he held and crank his own cup of water on Friday after lunch. Not a sippy cup with some kinda quasi-nipple thing on top, but a real live kid-sized cup. I’m sticking to my earlier theory: he’s got a big head because he’s scary smart. Case closed.… Read more

Sorry for the stretch of non-bloggification there – this time it wasn’t my idea. My hosting service had a bit of a databalse server hiccup, so I could literally add nothing to the site. There wouldn’t even have been an update for theLogBook.com this morning if not for the fact that I’m making a conscious effort to “work ahead”. Given how many upheavals come into my schedule just from being a dad, I’m not sure the site would be here still if I wasn’t ahead of the curve – whatever curveballs get thrown at me right now won’t derail the coming weekend’s update, because I’m 2-3 weeks ahead of it whenever and wherever possible.

In between baby time and household chores, I’ve been watching and/or listening to a lot of Doctor Who lately. Why? Okay, here’s the deal: in April, when the new season begins, theLogBook will be doubling up on Doctor Who episode guide entries, one from the original series and one from the new series each week. In looking over what hadn’t been covered from the original series – mainly from the B&W years – I discovered that there were 13 episodes that hadn’t been included in the episode guide section yet. That’s also how many episodes are in the upcoming season, so I’m watching that backlog of episodes now, writing episode entries as I go, and when we reach the final episode of the new show’s latest season, there’ll be a complete 45+ year guide to the series. Neat how that works out, huh? To be fair, many of the missing installments have been listened to in audio form only while I work around the house or work at the farm, because that’s the only medium in which some of them exist. Shoveling horse poop passes so much more quickly when Patrick Troughton and the Yeti are chasing each other around in your head while you do it. The real irony of it all is that, as you might expect, the one Doctor Who I have been saving for last is the one I want to watch the least. Just today I finished my journeys with William Hartnell; yesterday while working at the farm I said farewell to Patrick Troughton. The one I’ve been putting off, which I’ve seen before and have little or no desire to see again, is…Meglos, starring Tom Baker. Or, as I call it, with apologies to another British science fiction show I love, Smeglos. Now, perhaps my long-delayed revisitation with Meglos will show me that it wasn’t that bad in the first place – I’m open to that – but I just don’t remember it as being too great, the last gasp of indulgent silliness in the Tom Baker era. Still, I have it, and I’m giving myself until the new season starts to watch it in its entirety. Maybe I ought to chase that accomplishment down by going to Lulu.com and turning the whole thing into an “unauthorized! unexpurgated! unbifurcated!” book or something. You know, with all that spare time it probably sounds like I have.

Evan’s teething pains are back with a vengeance, but something even more worrying is asserting itself too: independence. He doesn’t want dad to hold his bottle anymore. He wants to hold it. He’s also scooting himself around on the floor at a pretty good click, laying on his butt and his back and pushing with his feet and legs. (A quick examination of my mother’s baby book reveals that I did this too, thus earning the nickname Scooter.) I know none of these things are on par with, oh, watching him go down the street on a bicycle for the first time, or watching him go off to college or anything, but it’s the first step on that path. It makes me realize how fleeting my time with him is. If he leaves home when he’s 18, and he’s six months old now, that means that 1/36 of my time with Evan is over. It’s gone. That’s a bit sobering. I’m already keenly aware that every moment is precious, every story I read to him is precious, every bit of playtime is precious. I get other stuff done while he’s sleeping, but as long as he’s awake, daddy is all his.… Read more