Superman to the rescue

I've been around a lot of kids in my life. My mom used to have a daycare, most of my cousins are older than I am, so they had kids way before me, and my little sister had kids before me. So when Matthew came along there really wasn't anything that I thought would surprise me.
Notice I said - "thought."
Matthew is absolutely the most energetic little boy I've ever seen. He goes non-stop from sun-up to sundown. He runs and plays. He has an imagination that would make Leonardo stand in astonishment, and through it all, he has no concept of fear.
This became quite evident when he started crawling. Or, let me rephrase that - when he started climbing. See, Matthew began crawling very early in life. About 6 months, he was crawling all over the house. With that crawling came climbing. Apparently, ground level was not where he wanted to be. He wanted to sit up on the couch or in the recliner with me, his mom, or whomever else might be seated. Then, he would decide that wasn't "exciting" enough, so he decided he'd get down.
No, he didn't whine, cry, or even point down. Nope, he got down all on his own. How, might you ask, did he get down. He didn't climb. No, he went couch diving.
That's right. He just pushed himself off and fell to the floor.
Of course, this made me and his mom very nervous.
"Oh my God! What if he gets a bruise or breaks an arm? They'll call DHR on us for child abuse!"
Yep, those conversations happened a lot. Matthew did a lot of couch diving, porch diving (once he started walking - well, running), and yes, even a little bit of truck diving.
Fortunately, no broken bones or really bad bruises. In fact, he usually landed on his feet or one of us. We had the bruises (and sometimes, pain in really painful places). He was fine. Not scared at all.
Now, at 3-years-old, he's still not scared. He wants to climb up ladders with me, he's already wanting to climb trees, and yes, he's still couch diving - and bed diving - and well, whatever else he can jump off of. After all, he is Superman, and he's off to the rescue! Blanket cape and all.

The Nightly Fight

Bedtime. For most of us, it's simply a time we look forward to. It's the time when we can simply collapse on the bed and just sleep. Heck, we even want to kick back at work in the middle of the afternoon and just "rest our eyes" for a bit.

Matthew, he isn't one of those people. Nope. In fact, sleeping, napping, or just plain resting isn't really a part of his vocabulary - or desired daily routine for that matter.

Now, I know at 3-years-old we all probably fought napping. Matthew, however, doesn't just fight napping. He literally runs from it. At bedtime, he not only runs from going to bed, he will fight you to keep from going to bed. He simply doesn't have time for it. There are other, more important things, like playing with his tractors or playing ball to do.

So let me tell you just how a typical evening goes in the Biggs' household.

Supper. We all sit at the kitchen table and eat as a family. It may be something as simple as a sandwich or pizza, but we sit and eat as a family. Then, if it's not too late (as in 7:30 p.m.), Matthew gets to play a bit longer before heading off to get a bath. Then, the fight begins.

Matthew used to love taking a bath. He literally asked for one every night. Sometimes twice. Now, he's not interested. He will run through the house trying to avoid me and Kiley. He tries to "hide" under the sheets, in his playroom, or just run from us. We have to literally "trap" him and take him to the bathroom. Once in the bath, he's fine. He wants to play for a while in the bath. He'll sing, play with his bath toys, "make ice cream", or whatever.

Then, it's on to Round 2.

After bath time it's time for Matthew to wind down and go to bed. And then, the chase begins anew. Running through the house,dodging his mom and me, fighting bedtime. "I'm not sleepy!" "I'm not ready!" "I wanna call pawpaw!"

Ok, so we give in and let him call his grandparents. He doesn't talk to them. It's simply a distraction to buy more time. He takes off and runs through the house while we're on the phone.

Round 3.

We finally catch him (yes, he's that fast!) and head off to bed. By this time he's so tired and sleepy it'll usually be a matter of 5 minutes or less before he's asleep. That is, if he hasn't totally rejuvenated himself with energy. So one of us will lie down with him to get him to sleep.

That can bring Round 4.

Yep, fighting in the bed. "I need this Horsey!" His stuffed horse, obviously. "I need snuggy blankie!" (A little satin on one side, fuzzy on the other thing.) "Sing me a song!" "I want a kiss! Mommy! (or Daddy!)" "I want some milk!"

Yep, all that and sometimes more. But, after about five to 10 minutes of arguing, struggling, and whatever else it might take, he's out. Not just asleep, but snoring, teeth-grinding, hardcore sleep. No cover, no animals, in the middle of the bed sleep.

That is until the fight to wake him up in the morning begins. Unless it's the weekend - when he doesn't want to sleep late.

Potty-training, um, what's that, and where'd that come from

Ok, I'll be the first to admit that I've always been the kind of guy that got grossed out pretty easily. I wasn't even a kid that especially enjoyed getting dirty. Yes, I know, a little dirt never hurt anyone, but it just wasn't for me.
Matthew, well, he could care less. He likes getting dirty. Mud, wet grass, food, and yes - poo. So when he came along, let's just say I wasn't exactly excited about diaper duty.

Oh sure, I'd outgrown most of my gagging by the time my nephew was born. I mean, it's better to clean it up than let it just sit and get "ripe." Right? My niece, well, I could change her diaper just as easily, too. Although, since she was a little girl, it wasn't quite as easy. Fortunately by the time Matthew arrived, the gag reflex was gone - most of the time.

Yes, I know, blood, guts, cleaning fish, deer, cows, hogs, whatever - it's guy's work. Shoot, I even documented butchering a cow once ... in pictures. But sometimes that's not as bad as what comes packaged as a surprise in a diaper.
I mean, seriously, where does that stuff come from? It can be green, yellow, red, brown. Heck, I think one time I even saw the colors of the rainbow.
But we all know it's not the color. No - it's the SMELL! Please, he just drank a bottle of milk, or ate some strained peas or something. Where did THAT come from?
(You know you've asked yourself the same thing. Admit it.)

Well, fast forward a few years and let's talk about getting rid of the diapers. Let's talk potty talk.

Now, I've always heard it's more difficult with little boys than it is with little girls. On this, I don't know. At least not yet. With Matthew, it was challenging at first. He'd just as soon pee or poop in his pants as he would his diaper. At first that is. He was just too busy to stop and go to the bathroom. Afterall, this is the child who has more energy than an entire schoolyard of kindergarten students.

Well, cleaning dirty underpants shouldn't have been that bad, right? WRONG! Something about it being underpants brought the gag reflex back. Maybe the fact that it just squished. Maybe it was the fact it spread everywhere (and I do mean everywhere). Or maybe it was the food that was causing all the, all the, well, you know - stuff.

At any rate, potty-training was an adventure. Pull-ups are a joke. Matthew just thought they were diapers that could be pulled up and down (which also added to the enjoyment). Going to "pee pee" though, that wasn't a big deal. Matthew didn't have - and still doesn't - really care. He'd just jerk his drawers down and let it fly. (Hey, he is a boy - and that's what little boys, and sometimes big boys do.) After a few accidents though he learned he didn't like the feel (and daddy didn't like the smell), so the potty became his friend. And that led to the following question being yelled through the house more than once, "What did he eat? It just keeps coming!"

Potty-training has also led to the something that everyone should experience at least once - "Daddy, I'm finished, come wipe my butt!"

Yep, it's time to go. We had Mexican for supper. "Daddy duty" calls.

Let me introduce myself

Hi there. My name is Jeffery, or as some folks call me, JB. I'm a dad and husband with a little boy named Matthew who definitely keeps me on my toes. I hope to make this blog an entertaining little slice of the internet, a place where folks can come and enjoy just a little bit of my experiences as a family man.

From time to time I'm gonna try and bring a bit of humor, a bit of seriousness, and a bit of shared experiences. In essence, I want to make this a place just to tell a story.

I'm not an expert at being a dad, I don't think anyone is (even Dr. Spock), but what I am is a dad who has a lot of stories and maybe just a bit of insight.

So, where do I start? I guess I better introduce you to Matthew. He's a blonde-haired, blue-eyed little boy with the energy of a thousand suns (and maybe sons). He came into mine and his mom's life three years ago. Oh, yeah, his mom, that's Kiley. She's my wife. We've been married since 2005. Together, we've shared quite a few adventures. From a stormy wedding day - literally, there were tornadoes, Matthew's arrival, and then our daily lives. It's been one big adventure, and being a daddy, well, that's just made it more fun.

With that said, let me just welcome you to ... Adventures in Daddyville.