HDL, LDL, blah blah blah.

UberDad had a good time visit with the Doctor a few weeks ago for my annual physical. In my book, the 'annual' physical takes place every four years or so. If it's good enough for the Olympics and presidential elections, it's good enough for me. The conversation went like this, as far as I can recall (I tend to block horrible events rather effectively):

Doc: How you feelin'?

UberDaddy: Really great, thanks, and yourself?

Doc: Any problems?

UberDaddy: Nope.

Doc: Great, I need to check your prostate and bleed you out a bit. Drop trou, bend over and put your elbows on the table.

UberDaddy: :::GULP::: Wanna have a beer first?

So a week or so ago, I get a call. Not from my doctor, but some nice, young woman at some testing lab.

LabGirl: Mr. UberDaddy, please.

UD: Speaking.

LabGirl: I'm LabGirl and I'm calling on behalf of your physician. Your LDLs are too high. He said you need to exercize and watch what you eat.

UD: Is this a joke? Who are you and why are you harassing me?!

LabGirl: Have a nice day!! :::click!:::


I have to be honest, this is wholly disturbing to me. I just can't imagine what is going on...

Hmmm... Well H and I do eat eggs or pancakes for breakfast about 6 of 7 days, but still. High Cholesterol? Actuall, my overall number was fine, and my 'good' was excellent, but there's just too much goop (read:LDL) mixed in. Fantastic.

I could go on and on about how this happened to me. How the rigors of marriage and parenthood took me from this:

to this:

in just 5 short years, but I will spare you.

My health is my responsibility, and I need to take better care of it.

OK, I'm not exactly a blimp, but clearly I must stop eating so many egg yolks and giving in to late night candy lust.

UberDad is already on the right path, you'll be glad to know. I learned a trick from the cleavage-bearing Italian woman on the Food Network. In a feat of incredible skill, I can now SEPERATE THE YOLK from the whites without an enormous mess. So our morning meals can still be yummy, without further clogging going on.




Giada De Laurentiis is so hot. Even Henry stares...








ciaofernow

"DADDY BIKE!"

Henry was sitting on the living room floor reading this morning, when he grabbed the Velo News from a couple months ago. He looked at the cover, looked up at me and said, "DADDY BIKE!" My smile could've parted the Red Sea.

How upset he'll be when he finds out that, while cycling courses through my veins, I am no pro. I'm not even an amateur racer. I'm barely an amateur anything, besides Dad. No degree on the wall for this, but I am clearly a world champion parent. That is so much less cool to a little boy than pro bike racer, however.

Your first disappointment in your Dad. Sweet.

* * *

Here's a joke I just made up, tell me if you like it:


What do uptight web people and asterisks - * - have in common?



They're both kinda like assholes.



I have been taught my first lesson in proper net etiquette. Interesting. I have had the very same reaction as I did when, as a 13-year-old Sunday School student at a Baptist church, my youth group leader taught all of us that it was a sin to dance.

This is TOTAL Bullshit.

Last post, I put up a short essay by a seemingly cool fellow who is an artist and a new dad. I dig new dads that openly celebrate their love for their kids. I immediately received a comment from someone that my post was "totally uncool" and "very bad netiquette". She went on to say that she felt the need to alert the author 'via email'.

Being brand new to the 'blogoshpere' (I am feeling less like a nerd knowing there are people who actually USE this word), I had no idea that posting a short essay with full credits and positive commentary was a naughty thing to do. OOOOhh, how wrong I was.

The author of the post DID read his email from 'ms. anonymous uptight web author lady' and felt compelled to write to me.

From: r___@m_____________s.com
Subject: Posting From My Blog
Date: March 19, 2006 6:41:40 PM EST
To: bkoppbikes@adelphia.net
It recently came to my intention that you lifted an entire blog entry of mine (from Heading East) and posted it on your site. While I'm glad you enjoyed the post and I see that you have attributed it, it's not cool to do this. The whole point of the web is that we link to other people's content. The proper way to do this is to post a link with a short description or a to post a short excerpt with the link below. I don't know if you are new to blogging or not, but if you continue to lift other people's entries attributions notwithstanding you will invariably piss people off.
all best,
r

Ok. In the range of responses from "Do this again and I'll sue your ass!" to "Its cool, man, thanks for the kind words!" - what he sent is somewhere in the middle. So mr. r is not an *. He wished me all the best.

But he really needs to rethink what the 'whole point of the web' is, because I'm fairly sure it has little to do with 'linking other people's content' and more more to do with an 'open exchange of ideas'.

We'll call it a misunderstanding, and leave it at that. At the end of the day, we both love our kids.

Did I learn my lesson? Yeah, I learned. I learned several things from this whole experience:

1. Moral elitists piss me off. Not far removed from religious zealots, those who believe that they know the 'proper' use of a world-wide media, or anything for that matter, can bite me.

2. This here interblogweb is ours. And it has lots of channels, so if you don't like mine, hit the, um, remote. Yeah.

3. People who get pissed off when receiving a compliment are loco.

4. I will try to be good about asking before I borrow other people's things, even if I intend to praise, promote, etc.

5. People who use the word 'via' outside of a professional setting are loco.

6. I am still the greatest parent in the world.

7. People who make lists may be compulsive in nature.

I hereby give everyone permission to use and reuse any and all anything you find on my interblog site. Copy it, sell it to your mother for a hundred bucks, or tell your wife that you wrote it. Its cool with me.


ÜberDaddy is the Grateful Dead of the blog world. Copy and trade, my friend.

I need a miracle.













ciaofernow

We are the pedal blocks.

UberDaddy, like other great parents, spends time considering the ways that we can use our time to best benefit our child. It is my desire to expose him to as many things as we can, and let him choose what he pursues in depth. For right now, at 18 months, that means lots and lots of laughing, playing and exploring the house and yard.


I attached some blocks to the pedals of Henry's Schwinn a couple of weeks back. He can just now reach the pedals, but isn't able to turn the wheel over yet (We practice pedaling in the air while on our backs). And this morning - while watching him push along Fred Flinstone style, try the pedals, fail, and repeat- an interesting metaphor formed in my head.


I am the pedal blocks in Henry's life.



How am I like a rectangular chunk of wood, you ask? (My wife has a very differnt answer to this than I...)

Consider that one of a parent's greatest roles is as the enabler of our child's discovery.

We are ALL the pedal blocks, actively but quietly supporting until they can thrive on their own.



Holy crap, his trike is cool.

He will be getting a 12" two wheeler here soon, but the trike is great to safely learn how to turn the pedals.




In other ÜberDaddy news:

I read a brilliant essay by a man named Raul that I thought I'd share with you all.

Then I got reamed for posting it.

I had posted the text here, because I thought it a proper tribute to a great essay. I had included a link to the author's blog, and given his name and proper credit. But apparently this is bad 'netiquette'. Sorry Raul, wasn't trying to steal your words or pass them off as my own, just smiling at them, and hoping to have others do the same. When I choose to use another's words when I write professionally, it is acceptable as long as I give proper credit. This is good for professional papers and journals, but not blogs?! Total Bullshit.

Ms. Strauss (writer of the comment), instead of taking the alarmist action of alerting the author, wouldn't it have been a little more direct (and mature) to email me directly and point out my indiscretion?

Mr. Raul, you are a fine artist and author. If you happen to come across this because of the email you received to 'tell on me' for crediting and posting your essay, please feel free to comment and let me know if I can post your words here. I had not seen the copyright at the bottom of the page and the request for permission. Please excuse.

All that said, you can find the post titled "The Undivided World" here

You can visit Raul's blog here.

and his photo blog here.

Sheesh. Who knew the blog police were up so late at night?




ciaofernow

In the words of the immortal Keanu Reeves...

Whoa.




OK, so that is the extent of Mr. Reeves' influence in my life, but it is, nonetheless, a valuable contribution.



We need to slow this muthafuckin' roller coaster down around here; the ride is getting a little too furious, even for the greatest parent the world has ever known. Lately I've been OverwhelmedDaddy.

See this?

Fuck it.


Not to complain, but this particular piece of shit literature has brought me as close to REAL self-abuse as I have ever come. Fortunately for my family, I do most of my work at the library when Mommy gets home, at the lame Starbucks, or very late at night when the house is asleep. This is good because they don't have to witness me trying to convince an inanimate book of the necessity of its own destruction. In flames.

I finished the midterm this morning around 2. Sweet.

UberDaddy is feeling a little better today, but my normal caffeine addiction has ramped up significantly of late, causing an interesting odor around the house. Those few warm days when we could open up the windows really helped, I hope they return soon.

Now for a couple of pics to prove that we do actually get out and have social lives. Actually to tell the truth, we are really lucky to have some of the greatest friends in the world. Henry really loves playing with other little ones, especially Grace Burke. She is an older woman (by 3 months) so he really has to do his best to impress her.









Good lookin', my little man.



ciaofernow!

Warning: This lifestyle not recommended by doctors.

ÜberDad has no problem with not sleeping. I need sleep about as much as a fish needs water.

This schedule is kicking my ass. I was up until 2:45 this morning working on schoolwork that is due Thursday. No problem. But when Henry, who has decided that he enjoys getting up with the sun, was ready to be up and out at 6:15 this morning there was a bit more of a problem. My brain wasn't working at all. Good thing we've got a pretty good routine, because the diaper change and trip down the stairs were a complete blur. Some morning milk, eggs in the bowl to be beaten, bread in the toaster, we're doing good. Henry, thankfully, is really cooperative lately (knocking on my desk) and climbed up into his chair quite happily.

On a side note, I cannot believe what an amazing eater he has become. He chows ALmost as much as I do in the morning.

Breakfast is finished and the dishes washed right away (ÜberDaddy NEVER leaves dirty dishes, he SWEARS). So now I get a minute to relax and finish this cup of RFG (really f'n good) coffee. Mmmm mmm mmm... as Henry would say.

The next two days are non-stop. H and I will head to our buddy-sitter's house by 10, and I have to head straight to Bmore. I'll close the shop tonight at 8 after kicking out the damn racing team that spins on Wednesday nights, and drive the 40 minutes home from Mt. Washington. THAT is when the real fun begins. Working on 3 1/2 hours of sleep again, and spending all day at the shop, I have the pleasure of HOURS of school work to do when I get home tonight.

Fortunately my stimulant of choice is easily obtained at Starbucks, perfectly legally.

You would think that the lack of sleep and stress of keeping a perfect GPA would be cause for worry, wouldn't you?

Nah. Not for me. I'm ÜberDaddy. I can do anything if it helps secure a better future for our little boy.

1.5 years (that's 18 months for you parents)

Today is my little guy's 1.5 year birthday. ONLY a new parent, and possibly a over-bearing grandparent or two, would ever EVER celebrate, or even consider, such a non-event. That said, I AM a new parent (relatively), so I get to be as Übergoofy as I choose, without care for outside ridicule. It's not like we hired a clown.

ÜberDaddy loves his little baby boy. Henry is growing up so quickly. Not to be cliche, but it seems like it was yesterday:

ÜberDaddy is ready to help... take pictures.

You worked SO hard to get your little lungs to work. Good job, kiddo.

You were SO big! 9 lbs and 15 oz.! WOW! (Poor Mommy!)

You are so beautiful!

I am so in love, and it just grew and grew, just like you.

You have become such a great little friend, companion and confidante. I love to dance with you, run with you, play drums while you play harmonica, and watch you cuddle with your Mommy.

I will always be there for you, as long as I live.

3 1/2 hours

Today feels just like those 'precious' first months when Henry came home: my brain is severely sleep deprived. You see, ÜberDaddy has gotten quite comfortable with the 6 hours of sleep I normally get each night. Let's back up to last evening.

Production and Operations Management class from 6:30 until 10. The professor is the Deputy Director of Health Services (or some similar title), so he feels the need to use EVERY minute of his allotted time. On the road from Owings Mills VJC campus to home just north of the PA line for about 50 minutes. As weird as this is, after being home all day, I love the drive - curvy roads at 60 mph are always a good time (ÜberDad says it is OK to go fast as long as you are not reckless). Get home a few minutes before 11 PM; mommy is SOUNDly asleep on the couch. I am wired; perhaps the coffee at 8:30 wasn't a great idea. Eat, drink, burp, scratch- it's midnight. I stir Mommy off the couch to go upstairs to bed, and as we pass by his room, Henry hears us and wakes up screaming. Awesome. Oh no! That's right! I lose my super powers at night, I can do nothing to help!

Seriously, for the last month, when I go in to sooth Henry when he wakes up at night, he flips out worse - angry that its not Mommy who has come to his rescue. Seems ÜberDaddy needs the yellow sun to give me my powers.

Up every 15 minutes until almost 3 am. OMFG. So when he was, again, crying out LOUDly to get up at 6:40, I was none too happy. Since the sun was up, however, my superpowers had returned, and Henry was glad to see me.

I am SO tired today. This morning's hot breakfast has been replaced with fruits and bread. I don't want to collapse onto the hot stovetop and end up with an over-easy face.

Funny, I was just beginning to think I was ready to have another one. Clearly there is NO way to prepare oneself for the lack of sleep that accompanies parenting an infant. Maybe I'll feel differently after more coffee.

Poor Mommy, she is at work right now trying to be a responsible professional. She clearly has superpowers as well.

The Reason I Do What I Do

Henry is just the greatest. He's a great companion, a great jumper, and steals my heart away every day. Even on busy mornings, he and ÜberDaddy laugh and laugh. He giggles if somebody burps or farts; and don't let those "experts" fool you, ÜberDaddy says it is OK to laugh at gas.

Yesterday in pictures:


"Mmmmm... NaNa! NaNa!"


On the road again!


I love hanging out with Kaileigh ("kay-LEEE!").

ciao fer now.

Stinkin' Thief

This is a great little article I found online... SO I STOLE IT. Okay, since I am giving proper credit, we'll call it "borrowing."
I especially like the last one. Enjoy:

Don't Call Me Mr. Mom!
What Not to Say to an At-Home Dad
by Buzz McClain Oct 2000

Men who chose to stay at home to raise the children while the mothers commute to work experience things most fathers do not. Not the least of these are the insensitive comments by people who can't comprehend the concept.

It's the price at-home dads pay for being daring and non-traditional. After all, it's not everyday you encounter an at-home dad -- then again, maybe you do and just don't realize it because they look like ordinary fathers, except they have slightly more spit-up on their shoulders -- so you can't be blamed for saying the wrong thing. Well, we're here to help.

Here are a few things that make at-home fathers cringe, according to the members of the National At-Home Dads Association, who have heard it all.

"What are you going to do when you go back to work in the real world?" Oh, how at-home dads hate this. It implies raising children isn't real and it isn't work. It is lots of both.

"Wouldn't it be better for the kids if the mother stayed at home?" No offense, but no. Studies show that working mothers are more involved in their children's lives when the father stays at home than when given over to professional day care; and because of the circumstances, the fathers are far more involved with the children than the dads who see their children only briefly after work and on weekends. The kids get two parents with strong influences.

"What do you do with all your spare time?" No matter the ages and numbers of the kids, the statement is baloney: There is no spare time. Besides seeing to the children's feeding, clothing, bedding, amusement and education, at-home dads typically assume command of household chores, from laundry to kitchen duty to lawn care. And you can't punch a clock after eight hours and go home. You ARE home.

"Who wears the pants in the family?" This implies staying at home with the children makes you less masculine; true, at-home dads are likely to wash more dishes, fold more laundry and go to the tot lot more than the father who commutes, but when mom is home dads play and watch just as much sports, ogle just as many women and perform just as many testosterone-driven activities than other fathers. And they do it with more gusto because getting out of the house means more to them.

"Oh, so you're Mr. Mom." Don't call us Mr. Mom. The kids already have a mother. At-home fathers do not replace mothers, they simply assume duties traditionally performed by them. If you must call at-home dads something, try Mr. Dad.

"That's a nice Mommy Wagon you drive." Ahem. It is NOT a Mommy Wagon. It's a marvelously functional all-purpose utility vehicle that just happens to have enough room to seat more than half of the Stingers Little League soccer team.

"What does your wife think about you not working?" Ordinarily a fair question, but often asked to see how the woman is handling the pressure of being the primary breadwinner. Get real: The empowerment is a heady sensation, one most women don't get to experience, and she loves it. As a bonus, she goes to the office each day knowing her baby is in good hands. Real men deal with the role change just fine, thank you.

"How can you stand to change diapers all the time?" This is likely to be asked by the "traditional man," the kind who will overhaul a greasy auto engine but can't bring himself to wipe a baby's butt. We know of one such man who, when confronted with a messy diaper, put the baby in the bathtub until the mother came home. Diapers are easy, pal. (Plum-and-sweet potato spit-up is another thing altogether.)

"Do you miss the security of having a job?" Maybe at first, but who isn't disillusioned by the general lack of loyalty companies express these days? Mergers, takeovers, layoffs, forced relocations and a slavish devotion by corporations to the bottom line are enough to rattle anyone's sense of security. An at-home dad has the job of a lifetime -- you can't be fired or transferred to a lesser position.

"What do you mean you didn't get a chance to finish the laundry?" Most often asked by frazzled wives coming home from work. Well, honey, things got really fun at the tot lot with the playgroup and we stayed a few hours longer than we expected . . .
----

Copyright © 2000, Buzz McClain.

ÜberDaddy preps the greatest breakfasts!

ÜberDaddy always provides a delicious, nutritious breakfast for little H. Today, Henry was STARVING coming out of bed. After the fastest diaper change humanly possible, we rushed to the kitchen to provide belly relief in the form of much-desired lolo (Henry uses the French term for milk). Next, chop up some fresh kiwi, and toss some multigrain bread in the toaster. But wait, I need coffee... one second, son. OK, back to the chopping block... Finishing the prep work, I went to find my little bud, and found this:

I mean, seriously, how lucky am I to not only be the greatest parent in the world, but also have the cutest kid in the world. He is clearly the world's next Lance Armstrong, but UberDaddy would never put pressure on his child to fulfill UberDaddy's dreams. If he wants to be an astrophysicist and help tweak Eistein's theories, that would be fine too.
Going to see Kaileigh at Ms. Kimmie's (our amazing buddy-sitter) today, so we'd better get moving.
ÜberDaddy is NEVER late.