I spoke too soon

It’s not over. There will be another yellow wiggle.

Who in their right mind works as an understudy to a wiggle anyway?

I don’t know who they are, but I’m glad its over

Apparently the lead singer of The Wiggles has left the band due to an illness called othostatic intolerance.

As much as I don’t like to gloat over another’s misfortune or ill health, I’m pretty happy knowing there is one less group of goofballs out there who wear different colour t-shirts and sing crappy kids songs for a living.

Besides the world is a much better place now that AC/DC will be back on top as Australia’s top-earning entertainers next year.

That guilty feeling

After finding out the train was down last night, Doug and I headed for the bar.

In the past, I probably would have hung out guilt-free for a couple of hours after calling Momma J to tell her I was stranded. Now, knowing that I’m needed at home for the evening shift, I found myself continually looking at my watch wondering how I was going to get home by eight.

I don’t think Doug noticed too much because he was itching to get to a band practice, which amazingly all of the members made in the end. But I found it odd to have my mind occupied by the weight of responsbility to my family.

For some I think this feeling is a burden, and they find themselves thinking of the good old days. But I can truly say I love coming home to them both. When I walk in the door, I usually rush over to grab the little fella’s big cheeks, which always makes him smile and laugh.

In the end, things turned out fine last night and I was at home in my PJs by 7:30. By 9 me and the little guy had passed out in the living room. And when he woke me up at 11:30 with his feeding whine, I promptly handed him over to his ma and hit the sack, leaving the blog for another day.

Home life may not be too exciting right now, but I love it just the same. I wonder if I’ll be singing the same tune when he is teething in four months.

Moving on to other things

On the way to work this morning the SkyTrain apologized to everyone for the crappy service it had provided its customers this week.

Like any good father, I can forgive and forget. But before I do, I want suggest SkyTrain’s CEO Doug Kelsey watch this clip to really understand how we all felt this week.

Thanks for the clip Beckstar. I’d be a duller nerd dad with out your blog.

No train, no blog

The trains were down last night, hence no post.

So today it’s just some admin work. I’ve joined technorati: <a

Technorati Profile

Another day, another battle on the train

If yelling at the woman yesterday was bad, I managed to top it today by almost getting in a scrap with an some crotchety forty-something on a downtown bound train.

When I left the house this morning I was in a pretty good mood. I left late to miss the rush and get a few more hugs in on the little guy. To my dismay, when I arrived at the station the throng of people was triple the previous day.

I start the day by listening to traffic reports on the radio – yes, I still use this archaic device every morning to gather information about the outside world before entering it. Since I hadn’t heard any reports of line ups at stations, I figured all was good.

Waiting at my station would mean an hour in the cold, so I opted to ride back a stop. This is good strategy for two reasons: One, there aren’t as many transit users at this station, and two, this station is Burnaby where people’s elbows aren’t as sharp.

My strategy worked, and after two trains passed I was heading into the city on the third. There was only one problem, I had to stop at my station.

Being the last the person to squeeze on, I was pressed up against the door. Knowing as I did that the people on this platform tend to be pushy city folk, I braced myself when the train pulled up in front of the angry throng that was jostling for position.

When the door opened nobody wanted to wait for the four people to get off for fear of loosing a coveted spot on the train, so I held them back explaining people were getting off. This caused a grumpy forty-something to start to curse at me and push forward.

Unfortunately it’s at these times when my Northern Irish blood begins to course through my veins. To scare the guy, I pushed him back and called him a jerk for not letting people off the train.

He swore back, but I could tell he was a little afraid at what would happen when I mentioned we were going to be standing side-by-side when the doors closed due to the fact we were all packed in like sardines. Being a sane and rational being, I wasn’t going to hit him. I did, however, want to throw a bit of scare into him. I thought his would make him think twice about being a jerk the next time.

As we began to move, I elbowed him a bit and he swore back. I told him to look forward to another half an hour of it. Adding to his anguish were the constant barbs he was receiving from the rather large and mildly senile senior standing behind him – I always feel better about confronting a jerk when others join in the festivities.

Thinking he was rather witty, the jerk responded by saying he was only riding one stop, a distance he could have covered by foot in the same amount of time he spent jostling to get on the train. When we stopped, he got of quickly with a few more curses for me and the old guy.I couldn’t help wondering if he did this for sport.

I wonder if I’ll see him tomorrow – the trains are supposed to be pretty crowded again.

How do you teach a kid manners in this pushy world?

Once again in the face of adversity Vancouverites proved they can be the pushiest, passive aggressive idiots in the world.

After a day of snow, people in the city braced themselves for a day of commuting on ice-packed roads this morning. Those who wisely stayed off the roads opted to push their way onto transit. I was one of the many who had to scrap their way onto a train today.

When I first arrived at my station I knew fewer trains were running due to the crappy weather, so I was mentally prepared to wait awhile. After I climbed the stairs to the platform, I was pleasantly surprised to see people actually lining up for the next train.

But, of course, this would not last long.

As soon as the next train came a woman who was at the back of my line made a dash for the door. Being a true Vancouverite, she acted like this wasn’t a problem by ignoring everyone else who had been waiting in the cold for seven minutes.

Strangely nobody said anything. Knowing people would let her sneak onto the train, I quickly confronted her, telling her to get back into line. She apologized, saying she didn’t see the line. Yeah, right.

But my efforts were in vain, as the line I had fought so valiently for lasted another two minutes after this mini drama unfolded.SkyTrain, being the poorly a engineered transit system that does a substandard job of carrying heavy passenger loads, runs trains of different sizes that stop in different positions on the platform. People lining up for one door are soon overrun by people scrambling to get in the doors of another train that has come in a different position.

This situation causes an ongoing chaos at busy stations where people jostle to get on trains. I’ve seen people almost come to blows more than once due to the lack of order created by this crappy system.

Anyway when the next train came, I quickly moved with the guy I was standing beside at the front of the line to get into the door of a car that was three feet from where the previous train cars had stopped three times in a row.

Unfortunately, his elbows weren’t as sharp as mine, so he ended up being bumped by a guy and his girlfriend who had strategically positioned themselves a little way down the platform to capitalize on such a situation when it arose.

The trip downtown was a slow and pushy one.

This gave me plenty of time to think about how I’m going to socialize my son in a city the encourages individualism over the collective good – there are many more examples of this that go beyond SkyTrain, a recent example was the fights that broke out in supermarkets over bottled water during the boil-water advisory.

When I pushed my way off the train upon my arrival in the city, I had only one conclusion to my dilemma: either move or teach the little fella to take what he can get.

Since we’re not moving any time soon, I guess he won’t be a child that shares with others well.

Northern instinct

It snowed a ton in Vancouver today.

This morning we were supposed to head out to Coquitlam for a visit with Momma J’s sister. Because of the road conditions, we chose not to risk an accident or being stranded with the little guy in the car.

As a guy who grew up in Prince George where it was a good year if it hadn’t snowed by Halloween this decision was tough to swallow – especially when I own an all-wheel drive Subaru that is designed for conquering these types of weather conditions.

So when I got the call from the guy who organizes our Sunday hockey to say the game was still on, I was thrilled. Because the guys “need the goalie”, I had an excuse jump in the car and test out its mettle in these adverse conditions.

Even with all season tires, the car was great in the snow and I arrived safely at the rink. Unfortunately only three others showed up, so we didn’t play.

For a minute I was thinking my decision to risk being hit by some idiot who was driving around with bald tires was a dumb one. That is until Rob showed up in his all-wheel drive with a huge smile on his face. Like me, he grew up where there was a ton of snow, so he was itching to get out and spin his tires.

Even though I’m a new dad and am a lot more responsible these days, I’ll never be able to suppress the northern blood that courses through my veins. If I see snow, I have to go out and pull the e-brake at least once.

First snow

Baby G experienced his first snowfall today.

As you can see, his snowsuit is pretty ugly. But that’s the beauty of being a baby. You look cute in just about anything.

Ouch!

So the little guy got his first shots today. I think it was more traumatic for Momma J than it was for him.

He’s usually a pretty quiet little guy, so hearing him scream at the top of his lungs as the doctor stuck him with four needles was a bit much for his mum. I didn’t hear the screams because I was out in the waiting room watching the buggy and all of our valuables.

When the little fellow emerged from the room, he didn’t look any worse for wear and was pretty calm. We had planned to return home if he was fussy or agitated, but he was so peaceful we were able to go out for lunch and do a bunch of shopping too.

Upon returning home, he had a huge crying fit – something very rare for him. Momma J thought it had to do with a lingering pain from the needles, so she asked I give him some Baby Tylenol. I don’t really believe in drugs unless they are absolutely necessary, but I followed orders.

My instincts told me his crying was due to the fact he had just spent five minutes peeing all over himself and the change table while half naked. Usually he gets a little angry after we take him out of his warm car seat, and his changing room was a little cold. I know I’d be angry if someone woke me up and yanked my pants off after a few hours of napping in a cosy chair.

Like all babies, once he gets worked up it takes awhile to calm him down. The circumstances of the day and his unusual behaviour freaked his mum out, hence her decision to feed him the drugs.

A few minutes later, we figured out the root of the problem when he dispensed one of his legendary poops for us to dispose of. Once this was done, he returned to his usual mellow self.

Later when I bathed him, I felt a little more empathy for little guy when I saw his five blood-soaked bandages on his legs. It’s no wonder babies want to stay in the womb. As soon as they are introduced to this world they are poked and prodded with needles and the like.

Apparently the next time we go for shots, I’m the one who has to go in the room. Momma J can’t take another experience of seeing the little fellow in so much pain.