Daily Archives: March 18, 2013

Turn on that 2nd Stereo (or d.A.D.D.)

“Creativity requires the courage to let go of certainties”
-Erich Fromm

“Well, its my old friend the future again; continually restoring the old face; reacquainting it with that which has yet to be.”
-Sun City Girls

IMG_0949

oh no, dad took over the drawing table again

IMG_0450

my block stacking ability hints at the repressed desires of an would-be architect

Though I have never been diagnosed with any attention issues, I am willing to spend time arguing about how boring things are and how much more engaging and exploratative conversation can be when jumping from subject to subject and back. Even regarding learning I find that when we leave the matters open to constant slight tangents, we make the interaction of learning more relevant and meaningful, no matter how silly the tangent may seem…. may be I would even argue that schools are failing (in the most generalized, agreed upon sense) because they are boring rather than the students home lives are hyper-stimulated through electro-media.

Anyvays….I find the constant juggling of roles and responsibilities, or the metaphorical spiraling of day-to-day engagements best handled when having the space and ability to jump from interest to interest. I say that cause I have this functional vision of spinning through a vortex of relationships, engaging with my partner, my 9 year old, my toddler, my friends, my work, my projects, my father and sister, as well as with food, drink, intoxicants, and all the other funk. I find this visualization useful cause it acknowledges the cyclic reality of habit structures. If I feel like if I was un-engaging in any of my relationships, I can address it again soon. I also see the day like this, as if our brains are spinning like the earth, handling our biz while we face the sun, until we spin some more and switch conscious states towards rest.
Some projects, I dream up with no realistic sense or situation of achieving them, for now, and they drift off into some future time when the conditions or necessary partners comes into site, often through some long drawn out triggering of unknown trajectories…

All that’s just some blab bout the manifestation of ideas and the patterns of necessary human interactions, I mention it cause we all possess deficits in attention to some things, yet we still go on with our lives and interactions. I may seriously have an attention deficit to paying bills and doing stupid shit. So we define it as a lack in amount or quality, a deficit, that is. It’s latin root describes it as wanting. Attention wanting disorder? So do we lack a want to be Attentive, or do we want to be paid attention too? Either way, my answer is still the same. Shits too boring. I blame the centralization of popular culture and non-development of local relevant culture. But really…I blame that junk for everything.
This is not why I chose to write this, damnit. I am a dad that gets bored getting kids to do boring stuff.

I often turn on a 2nd stereo with music I have picked. That may be what sparked some of this. If you have to turn on a second stereo, you may be easily bored, or your house may not be super stereo wired to kick speakers off and on in different parts of the house and yard. I guess I’m both.

wheres the dad shit? Oh, right. D.A.D.D.
So you know it takes quite some grooming and instruction to get these human types to not piss and shit themselves. Theres no set date or month but it takes almost 3 years to let go of the sweet satisfaction of shitting yourself. Say you pee 5 times a day and poo about once. That’s 1000 shits you are going to take that some other adult person/parent is going to clean off of your junk. About 5,000 bladder drains. And we think we so smart.

IMG_0612

my creativity oozing forth through mr. potato head

Ahem, so uh, as I uh…became a dad, or whatever, haha, uhm. ..
I have my 9yold with a previous partner and we did cloth diapers back then and homebirthed her and gave her, her own last name. With my partner now, we also homebirthed, are doing cloth diapers, and gave her the same last name as her sister. When Azs was in diapers, we had a cloth service that would pick up a giant bag of shitty diapers 2 and 3 times a week. It could sit on the doorstep for a few hours in the sun before the diaper fairy would snatch them. I cant imagine why that went out of business. This time around, we are washing them at home in the wash. Its normally no big deal, but we are almost 2 years deep into this and the other day I (hope I) hit one edge of the extremes.

Now when I dad-out or bond with other stay-at-home-moms, we relate on this basic level of dread when discussing the cleaning of diapers. Its mostly left at that, the gory details are left unspoken like the idiosyncrasies of your own bowel movements. I want to point out though, that unless you have hand washed the “fiber,” or the shit off of a dirty diaper in shit water with your bare hands daily, your diaper woes just aint the same.
You can kind of cue in to the behaviors and expressions of your toddlers, develop a pattern of food intake and output, but not always. I think this baby dumps 1 every 21 hours or so. I bring it up to this babe, Indy, and often she responds acknowledging but not excepting.
“Are you wet?”
Defiantly, and definitely, “No.”
“Do you need a diaper change?”
without pause, “No.”
I do not make it a big deal, nor do I reprimand. I’m just aiming for understanding.
You also have night time diaper changes where the parents/partners try to do the least amount of work as possible…often a quick, prepped change, with the soiled shorts finding a temporary home on the floor until morning when you actually admit you have to get up and do things. In between the quick change and the standard changing table change is a giant grey area with a number of variables. Its an extra sketchy situation when two drowsy adults experience a “night poop” and have to be brought form out of a dead sleep and hastily handle wiping unexpected shit off of a sleepy baby.

The other day while moms was scrambling to get dressed, done, and out the door, I dropped the baby onto the bed for a quick change, popped the snaps open to handle one of the quickest changes ever, only to reveal a heap of dark fibrous stank.
Fuck. I panicked and tried to contain the funk within the diaper, yet the baby who was already squirmy, quickly smacked her hands into it.
“Ahhh!!! Moma, I need help. Fast” darting to the bathroom, she had already smeared her mud paste onto the sleeves of my light grey sweater and her shirt as well. I felt like I was tasked with disarming a bomb and it had already gone wrong. Red wire, green wire. Fuck! I’m holding a shitty diaper with the surface spread of a half jar of chunky peanut butter, an irritated baby with a contagious stanky funk coating her grasp, wearing a contaminated sweater, feeling like a helpless confused puritan unable to fathom the next step towards soul sanitation. I was caught cursing the function of processing organic matter and our desire to shit ourselves. I doubt I could have handled this shitty situation if moms hadn’t grabbed the baby and threw her into the tub. Finally, sense was restored in the universe and this disastrophe had reached the final scenes.
While I am interested in carrying-on about funny and silly interactions between me and the tiny, we are already 1200 words deep and theres a few diapers I must be washing…