mccullochblog

Time's Up Mr. Tarantino. Step aside Mr. Coppola.

William is getting into the movie business.

William's First Time Behind the Wheel

You may have heard that American youths learn to drive at a much earlier age than would-be motorists in other parts of the world. 

To give him a jump start on his peers, we took William to Happy Hollow today. As you'll see from the video below, he gained some excellent experience of driving on a highly monotonous route at low speed. This should prepare him well for his eventual entry into the workforce, and the many hours of Silicon Valley commuting that are sure to follow.

I should add that while I don't get this type of enthusiastic support on my commute every day, I do also clap my hands in glee when I finally park at home.

Me and John McEnroe

 There's a wonderful passage in John McEnroe's autobiography in which his then wife, musician Patti Smyth, is consoling the distraught John about his guitar playing. 

McEnroe, who in this phase of his life was no longer the world's number one tennis player, had reasonably assumed that the determination that had made him the top man on the court, could also bring him to the zenith of rock music.

"John," says Patti. "You don't get to be John McEnroe and Ronnie Wood in the same lifetime."

I take solace from these wise words every time I ponder my ineptitude as a gardener in comparison to my reasonable level of competency as a PR practitioner.

Things in the garden have gotten quite bad of late.

My neighbors now openly mock the brown patches on my lawn, the odd shaped bell peppers on my stunted plants, and the poorly-chosen placement of my strawberry patch.

I bought a new miniature palm last week. "Oh, we bought one of those and it flourished!" said my neighbor Adelle, as I knelt to plant it in a pot on the front deck. "Mind you, we did remember to water it!" she added, with an evil chuckle.

The truth is, I'm a pretty terrible gardener. I love the simplicity of laboring with soil and plants, and the joy of harvesting the fruits of my hard work. But I'm not good at it.

My front garden really does have brown patches, despite many hours spent attempting to fix the performance of the sprinklers. (Adelle has taken to secretly watering those patches out of fear that my lawn will bring down the reputation of the neighborhood).

And the truth is, that corner of the garden WAS very sunny when I planted my strawberry plants there one Sunday afternoon. But that was possibly the only hour of sun that little patch gets all day. I think I harvested a total of eight strawberries this summer. None of them were edible.

And yes, my bell peppers only seem to grow in two dimensions: wide and round. Not deep.

I do, however, take solace from the fact that my tomatoes are pretty fantastic. So fantastic, in fact, that William has taken to feeding himself directly from the plants when we're out in the garden pottering about together.

The fact that my plants produce so few tomatoes that once William has had his one or two per day, there are none left over for Emma and I doesn't bother me. All I care about is that William thinks daddy grows lovely tomatoes.

So where do I go from here? Well, I continue gardening of course. After all, John McEnroe recorded an album of music despite Metallica's Lars Ulrich saying he "couldn't sing to save his life".  

In fact, since I looked up the symptoms of the brown leaves on my orange tree (caused by a lack of water) and started watering it, it's really looking quite good. 

Next year, I hope to beat my record crop of oranges from that tree. My current record is one orange, grown in 2009. The orange was green when it fell from the tree, and never turned orange. I'm pretty sure I can beat that in 2011.

William and Daddy's Five Most Awesome Things

 William's Most Awesome Things

5. Going 'Ouwseye'. Going outside holds such unbelievable mystique and awe for William that he uses the word only in hushed tones. "Ouwseye" he whispers, mimicking daddy...and then a softer-still "yesth" if asked if he'd like to go there. Everything else, he shouts, yelps or screams, but going outside....that's so awesome it has to be whispered.

4. Activating the Car Alarm. Like a delighted Pavlov's dog William yelps "Caaaaar" whenever he hears the inimitable beep of a car alarm being set. Yet more fun is pinching daddy's car keys from the coffee table and repeatedly making his car alarm beep while the car is parked on the drive. I'm fairly sure our neighbors think my alarm is defective.

3. Getting the basketball from the Garage. The being-carried William kicks his legs like crazy when we go to the garage. Put simply, the garage is full of the most amazing things: mysterious items hang from the ceiling, multiple vehicles lurk in the shadows and of course the basketball sits alluringly on the shelf next to the paint. "Baww! Baww! Baww!" cries William. Ball. Awesome. (Note: strangely, William chuckles at mummy when she is playing basketball, and especially when she misses her shots. It's true!)

2. Trashing the Book Shelf. Trashing the book shelf would undoubtedly have been #1 a month ago, but as William passed the 14 month landmark, he started to lose his enthusiasm for systematically pulling two dozen or so books onto the floor on a several-times-a-day basis. Currently, the floor is still littered daily, but I think the day when William picks just a handful of books at a time are just around the corner.

1. Diving into the Daddy's freshly ironed shirts. Closet diving is the new book shelf trashing. Every morning, as daddy gets ready for work, William dashes, arms outstretched into the open closet and dives headlong into neatly arranged row of my work shirts shouting "Aaaaaahhhhh!" Not content with trashing mummy's ironing, William then curiously throws himself into a recline position on top of our collection of shoes and giggles like a mad fool. Shirt diving and shoe lying are the most awesome things in the world, it seems.

Daddy's Most Awesome Things.

5. Mummy's Carrot cake

4. Spare money

3. Ahi Tuna Tartare

2. Snorkeling

1. The World Cup.

Being the Other Parent

Being the dad of a social toddler is odd sometimes. 

Occasionally it makes me feel like I'm the spouse of a Governor or a Prime Minister.

You know...you show up to functions, smile, and shake hands with strangers.

These days those strangers are the parents of other toddlers who attend the same playgroups, schools, swimming lessons and reading circles as William.

And of course, half of those strangers aren't strangers at all....they're mums-in-arms and the best-of-friends of each other. But the other half -  we dads - we show up alongside the mums and take smiling to a whole new level to compensate for the fact we don't know anyone as anything other than "Dexter's dad".

Tonight was one of those nights when we dads were required to mingle. In fact, it was more than that...we were required to share our innermost thoughts about the challenges of parenting as part of a moms and dads 'pajama party' at William's play school.

Gulp.

Share innermost thoughts? With a group of people about which you know absolutely nothing except that they too are parents!?

But that's what William's teacher asked us to do as we obediently sat around a table on 14"-high chairs. (picture above, courtesy of an eaves-dropping wife!)

She might as well have asked: "Has anyone had any problems with their bowels recently?"

For a long moment there was a stony silence in the circle as twelve men struggled for an answer and wished they were somewhere else. 

Anywhere else.

Then a brave soul spoke out: "Well, it's quite hard to set boundaries You know. I mean, how many times can you say 'no'?"

"Yeah, yeah..." muttered a few around the table.

Then more silence.

Someone else offered a thought in response to some quiet urging from the teacher:

"What about TV? Is it bad that my kid watches TV already?"

"Only if he's not watching the Seahawks!" someone answered, and everyone laughed.

The relief in the room was palpable as the dads sighed a collective sigh which signaled that the conversation had shifted from awkward innermost thoughts to the universally popular subject of sports.

Well...what did she expect, right? We're dads! 

We throw balls. We throw our kids around. We read them books punctuated with animal noises. We roll around on the carpet with our kids and we try to make every bath time more exciting than the Shamu show at Sea World.

When you only get to spend an hour or two a day with your child, there just isn't time to worry about the challenges of parenting. Dude...it's great just to BE a parent! 

Anyway, William's teacher is great, but if I was her, chairing another dads discussion, I wouldn't ask them about the challenges. 

My opening question would be: "OK, would anyone like to say anything about why being a dad is awesome?".

Hell, yes! Me first! I just saw William take his first steps today!

"The Librarian's Nightmare" performed by William.

We've been trying for a while to capture one of William's favorite (destructive) habits on film. 

At last, Emma managed to stay out of sight and earshot long enough to record it on our Flip. 

Here is is...with apologies to librarians everywhere!

 nonpublic

Christmas is Fantastic!

I am a big fan of Christmas. What's not to like?! 

Everyone dresses up their homes to be festive and welcoming; old friends who haven't been in touch with each other all year send at least a card, and, inexplicably, people are friendlier to neighbors and strangers alike. Like I said...what's not to like?

Christmas officially kicked into full swing today with the arrival of the Christmas Train in Burlingame.  I've never seen anything quite like it...a crowd of several hundred parents and children welcoming Santa's carriage! Now THAT's some Christmas spirit!

Anyway, it was William's first brush with Santa, and so of course it's here for you on video!

Like Father, Like Son

After scuffing my knees on the living room floor, I might have considered taking credit for teaching William how to crawl (at the tender age of 7 months!) if it wasn't so obvious from this video that he needs very little help from his dad in crossing great distances in short moments!

It's Been A Hard Day's Night

and I've been working like a dog
It's been a hard day's night, I should be sleeping like a log
But when I get home to you I find the things that you do
Will make me feel alright

The Moment We Become Our Parents

I remember my mum absolutely freaking out one day when I was seven or eight years old. I had got home from school about 25 minutes later than usual after stopping to play on the slide at the park with my friend Paul Saunders.

Why was she so worried???! It was only 25 minutes!

When we're young, our parents seem such strange creatures. When we're teenagers we dread the prospect of becoming OLD like them. In our twenties, we're so busy just getting STARTED with life that parenting seems unimaginable. And then, suddenly, we're in our thirties and the prospect of becoming exactly like our parents comes at us like a big fast-moving truck!

I have a crystal clear vision from 30 years ago of my mum following Ron and I around the house turning off lights we'd left glowing behind us like a trail of electronic breadcrumbs. 

"Wait until you pay the bills!" she would shout from some other room in the house as we stumbled on regardless, lighting up new rooms as we went.

Today, I follow Emma from the bedroom to the kitchen to the lounge via the bathroom, flicking off light switches as I go, saying pretty much the exact same thing! 

When he was still a working mariner, my dad came home from two and three month trips to sea as if all he'd been thinking about for those months was getting into the garden.

He would spend hours - days! - pacing our yellow-and-red-colored tile garden pathways between the cabbages and the lettuces inspecting his crops, followed at every step by our cat, Whiskey.

Now, yes, you've guessed it, I've become an avid gardener too. Is there a 'gardening gene' in the genetic sequence?

Tonight I was exstatic to pluck a ripe red strawberry from my hand-planted strawberry patch. Tomorrow, I might even eat it! 

And then there's worrying. (Like the incident with the slide and Paul Saunders.) Since becoming a dad, I worry about my boy all the time.

I've probably thought up six excuses so far for checking that William is still breathing at night: A glass of water. Is the light still on? Did you hear that? Just need to check my schedule for tomorrow....I might as well check on William while I'm up.

Sorry mum. I understand about the slide now.

Of course, I should point out that the transformation to becoming a perfect replica of mother/father is not quite complete.

I have yet to chase my son around the garden with a large whicker carpet beater (my mum).

I have also not yet cursed my lazy son with colorful Dutch expletives for mowing the lawn with one hand in his pocket (my mum again).

And finally, I have yet to trade (for a four-pack of beer) silence to my wife about our son's secret house party while (he thought) his mother and father would be away at the same time. 

Of course, you know that day will come!