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No April Foolin’ – it was 5 years ago today that our lives changed beyond anything we could have imagined, due to the birth of a boy known infamously around the world as “The Dude.” Damian Lucas Straus was born at 3:47pm on April 1^st, 2007. It was Palm Sunday, and it was opening day for that year’s baseball season. And here we are, 5 years later, with one very funny, entertaining, frustrating, exasperating, kind, caring, lovable, insane little boy.

The past year has definitely been a roller coaster ride with this kid. The more he learns and the more independent he gets, the wider the spectrum of his emotions run. He can go from super happy and polite to a screaming demon with just one poorly-timed word or some other innocuous action on our part. It’s like bi-polar disorder crammed into a 5-year-old brain – but at this age, it’s just called “being 5.” His energy level is seemingly inexhaustible. He plays soccer on Sundays, dance club on Mondays, and he will be starting tee-ball at the end of the month. He loves riding his bike to school, and he can just run and run and run for hours. His biggest passion is still airplanes, and his vision of becoming a pilot one day remains unchanged. His is also fascinated with technology, and can figure it out faster than any adult. His grandpa handed him an iPad yesterday (not to keep), and within seconds he was playing games and looking at apps without any guidance.

His relationship with his little sister continues to evolve. There is definitely a higher level of jealousy now than earlier – with each new milestone and the commencing of walking, more attention is being paid to baby Lucy, and unfortunately we seem to be paying more negative attention to the Dude than usual. At some point his logic and reasoning functions have to kick in – right now he inexplicably demonstrates poor behavior knowing full well what the consequences will be, but still gets extremely upset when we discipline him for that behavior. We are trying very hard to not lose our patience, but he really makes it difficult for us. Most of the poor choices he makes are while at home – usually when we are out somewhere, he behaves very well. He’s also usually better when playing at home with friends instead of just us. And he’s always perfect when a babysitter is present. He has no behavior issues at school whatsoever, so it’s something about being home with just his family that makes him lose his mind (not that I can’t relate).

Speaking of school – his pre-K class is now less than 3 months from graduation, and it couldn’t be going better. He’s made good friends, he learns so much – he sang this long song about Martin Luther King the other day that made us just beam with pride. His teachers have given us progress reports, and they say he is by far the most academically advanced kid in the class. Naturally we chalk that up to his genes. We love that his school is only a few blocks away, and he’ll be there for the next 6 years (providing we don’t leave the neighborhood, which we don’t plan on). That means that Lucy will start pre-K there when he’s in 3rd grade, so they’ll have a few years together in the same school, which we are looking forward to.

If someone had traveled back in time 5 years ago and showed me what the next 5 years with my little boy would look like, I wouldn’t change a thing. There have been many trying times with him for sure, but the fun times have far outweighed the bad. It’s so nice to have someone laugh hysterically at my fart jokes, to snuggle up and watch Charlie Brown Christmas or Toy Story, to gaze with awe at the glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling, to sing and dance to Phish, moe., the Beatles, Harry Belafonte, and even a song by Finnish death-metal band Korpiklaani, and to soon become a big Star Wars geek too (hopefully). I can’t wait to start teaching him how to play tee-ball, and I really enjoy playing soccer with him. Plus he’s starting to ask more questions about his genitalia, and I’m happy to impart my knowledge unto him about such delicate matters…because he’s my boy, and I’m his daddy, and that’s what we’re supposed to do. And as I will watch him at his bowling birthday party today bowl a higher score than his mommy, I will grin with satisfaction. He may have his issues, but overall he’s a very intelligent, articulate, affectionate, and fun little dude. 5 years ago I would have been happy if I had known he’d turn out half as good.

Happy 5^th year, little buddy. I love you with all my heart. No April Fools.

I came across an interesting article today that described a study that tried to determine if there was some inner biological reason why people believe in god. You can read the whole article here, but what it boiled down to was that people who used intuitive reasoning as the basis for their decisions were far more likely to believe in a higher power than those who question their instincts and rationalize their decisions. This makes sense, and to me it's not a surprising result of the study, but there was one part that stood out to me, quoted below:

"Shenhav and his colleagues investigated that question in a series of studies. In the first, 882 American adults answered online surveys about their belief in God. Next, the participants took a three-question math test with questions such as, 'A bat and a ball cost $1.10 in total. The bat costs $1 more than the ball. How much does the ball cost?'
The intuitive answer to that question is 10 cents, since most people's first impulse is to knock $1 off the total. But people who use 'reflective' reasoning to question their first impulse are more likely to get the correct answer: 5 cents.
Sure enough, people who went with their intuition on the math test were found to be one-and-a-half times more likely to believe in God than those who got all the answers right. The results held even when taking factors such as education and income into account."

Is it me, or is a more simple way of expressing these results that people who used intuition - and therefore are more likely to believe in God - are less intelligent? "...one-and-a-half times more likely to believe in God than those who got all the answers right." Sounds like getting all wrong answers = not smart = believing in God.
Those of you who know me know whether or not I agree with that simplified statement, but I'm not bringing this up with regard to my own beliefs. I'm curious what you think about the study and my interpretation of the results of that test.

The last six months have brought some crazy changes to the Straus House. Let’s see – the guest room/Cali’s room is now a little girl’s room; the finished room in the basement now resembles a somewhat livable space; and…oh, there’s been this baby girl filling up our hearts and our eardrums. Yes, the Dudette is six months old today, and she is thriving.

Over the last few weeks she has begun sitting up – she can hold herself up on her own for about five seconds before she topples over, much to our amusement. She is incredibly close to crawling – she can get her arms and legs moving, and she gets her butt in the air, but she can’t seem to coordinate it all just yet. I’m predicting she’s crawling in the next two weeks. She is getting her hand-to-mouth coordination down – she can take her cereal spoon (she eats baby cereal once a day with the ferociousness of a rabid badger) and shove it into her mouth pretty well. Plus she puts just about everything in her mouth anyway. She chews a lot, so her teeth are on their way in – so far it doesn’t seem to bother her too much, but we have been giving out Tylenol a little more frequently.

Her main issue right now is sleeping – she had been getting into a decent groove, going down around 8:30, getting up between 3 and 4 for a short while, and then going back to sleep until about 7. But recently we got the ok from the doctor to introduce solid food (baby food), so on Thursday and Friday we gave her some sweet potatoes. She ate them up just fine, but those two nights were terrible – she tossed and turned and cried and whined for hours and hours. Then yesterday we didn’t bother with the real food, just the cereal, and she slept great. Plus the real food made her poop thick and stinky. So maybe we’ll try something other than sweet potatoes for now.

She continues to think that her brother is the most entertaining thing on the planet. When he enters the room, he garners her full attention – she fixates on every sound he makes, every movement he performs. And at this point, he is still an amazing big brother for her. He loves making her laugh, he wants to help feed her (sometimes), and he is usually very careful around her. He always kisses her goodbye when he goes to school in the morning, and kisses and hugs her goodnight. Not sure how he’ll do once she starts taking his toys and such, but we’ll hope for the best.

She is still a pretty mellow, happy baby most of the time, and her nearly ever-present smile lights up the room, and is pretty much what gets me through the day, especially if I haven’t had enough sleep. I’ve started introducing the game of throwing her into the air and catching her, and she pretty much enjoys it (although I have gotten a few “What the hell are you doing?” looks). She seems fascinated by books and loves manipulating toys (as much as she can). She also seems to really love singing and music. If I sing to her, I get an instant smile (I’m sure that won’t last either), and if a song comes on the TV, she instantly focuses on it.

She is noticing her doggie more now – she tries to pet (or grab) her when she’s near, and seems to be ok with the occasional dog tongue on her face. I checked my blog post when the Dude was six months, and it’s surprisingly similar as far as development goes – go figure.

Her name means “light,” and as much as the sleeping issues frustrate me, she really is the light of my world. I could just stare at her blue eyes for hours, and making her smile is about as good as things can get. There was some stupid Hallmark commercial for Father’s Day on TV last night, and I’m so upset at myself for even getting the slightest bit sentimental at it, but it is what it is. I’m not sure what this unspoken bond is between a father and his little girl that I keep hearing about, but it’s there. And I know it won’t last – or it will at least wane – so I am taking full advantage while I can. Happy half-birthday, Lucy!

It’s been quite a while since I checked in and let you all know how my foray back into the academic world has been going. To refresh your memories, I've been taking a math class for non-majors as part of the liberal education requirement at St. Rose. I ended the last post on the class with “Hopefully at some point we'll discuss something I can actually apply to anything.”  Well, as it turns out, this never happened.  This math class - again, supposedly for non-math majors - ended up being a straightforward math class that held no practical value for me whatsoever. Linear regressions? Standard deviations? Gigantic equations that sucked the life out of me? Yup, they were all part of this horrendous class that thankfully ended yesterday. 

The book that we were instructed to purchase for this class now has a thick layer of dust on it. We used it for the first class, and not a page since. Which is too bad, because I perused the book before the class began and it looked mildly interesting, as far as any math textbook can look. But our professor, without any explanation, decided we didn’t need it.

The class itself was not too difficult in that the professor went over every problem that was to appear on an exam, often going over things multiple times. For the last two exams we were allowed to write notes on handouts that he had given us, so basically the last two tests were open-note.  But even with the extensive reviews and using notes, the concepts that we learned were so over my head, so unappealing at any level that I have struggled to get through the semester.  If this is math for non-majors, a regular math class would make my eyeballs bleed and cause my skull to implode. 

But the good news is that I am now officially enrolled as a St. Rose undergrad! No more of this non-matriculated crap – I’m one matriculated dude. It’s still going to be several years before I get my degree, but thankfully I won’t have any more math classes, so it’s looking good. It looks like for the fall, I’ll be taking a Spanish class.  Yeah, I know, where the hell are the English classes? I’m restricted to taking classes at night, so my options are limited. There are only certain classes that will go toward my degree, so I have to wait until they’re offered in the evening. I do need to take the Spanish class, and I took four years in high school, so I’m hoping it will go smoothly.  It can’t be any worse than this semester was.

So now you’re caught up; hopefully you’ll sleep better tonight.  Stay tuned for more wacky adventures with Straus Mouse, the college student!

It was 4 years ago today, Sergeant Pepper taught the band to play.  No, wait…it was four years ago today that I became a father. Yikes.

Yes, the Dude is four today, no April Foolin’.  It’s strange, because while it seems like those four years have flown by, it also seems like it was ages ago that the Dude was as small and helpless as his baby sister is right now.  He completely shed his toddler-ness about 6 months ago, and has developed into a loving, affectionate, silly, goofy, maniacal at times, energetic boy.  As difficult as this age can be sometimes, it also provides the sweetest moments a parent could ask for.  On a given afternoon I’ll hear from the other room, “Daddy?”  “Yes?” I’ll reply, and then I’ll hear, “I love you!”  It’s just heart melting.  When he’s in a good mood, he is the most polite and well-spoken young man I could imagine. He’ll say “please” and “thank you” without any prompting, he engages those who address him, and listening to him carry on conversations with his grandparents on the phone is fantastic. 

The biggest change in all our lives during the past year was obviously the birth of his sister.  Leading up to that event, he was very excited, helping to sort through clothes and dust off his old baby toys and such.  And during the past 3 ½ months at home with the Dudette, he has been ridiculously sweet with her.  Even if she’s wailing away while he’s trying to watch TV, he doesn’t get mad at her.  He’ll try and calm her down by talking to her or dangling a toy in front of her. Or if that doesn’t work he’ll politely (sometimes) ask us to take her out of the room.  He always wants to kiss her goodnight and then goodbye in the morning before he goes to school.  We asked him this morning what shirt he wanted to wear for his birthday, and he picked the “I’m the Big Brother” one he got when she was born.  He’s so proud, and so are we. 

But of course, having to share mommy and daddy’s affection with another kid isn’t always easy, and while he’s never acted out against her, he definitely has moments where he insists we devote our attention to him.  He’ll purposely behave badly if he’s feeling neglected – a few weeks ago he walked into the dining room, bare-ass naked, sat down, and peed on the floor, grinning.  Yeah.  Look forward to that kind of thing, new parents.  But luckily those moments are lessening and should continue to do so, we hope.

He continues to thrive at school – his handwriting is getting much better (he writes his name pretty well now), he knows most of the planets and other space stuff, and right now he’s really into rhyming.  He’ll just spout off two words that rhyme at random times, even if the words aren’t real words. “Milk and dilk! Those rhyme!”  I’ve been trying to get him to think of real words, and now he’s very proud when he rhymes two actual words.  The other night I was lying down with him saying goodnight and he was rhyming words, and at one point he went “Sock and cock! Those rhyme!” Giggling, I asked him what a “cock” was. He giggled back and said, “It’s a made-up word.”  And for now, it is.

Having an infant at home really accentuates the great qualities a four-year-old possesses.  As frustrating and trying his growing independence can be, it’s also an amazing thing to watch.  But what I enjoy most about my little boy is just being silly with him.  My wife once told me - long before we decided to have kids - that I’d make a great dad someday because I was such a goofball.  Turns out she was right on the money (at least the goofball part).  It brings me so much joy to trade knock-knock jokes with him, or to watch the Backyardigans and giggle like idiots at all the same parts.  I don’t know how long the special father-son bond we have is supposed to last, but I sure am enjoying it while I can.  Happy Birthday, Dude. Thanks for four years of awesomeness.

I have a fuzzy memory during college (well, most of those are fuzzy memories) of taking a verbal quiz of sorts; a kind of morality test or something, and the one question I clearly recall had to do with making jokes.  The question asked: “Can humor be found in anything?”  Another way to ask that would be: “Is there anything too serious to make fun of?”  This question was thrust to the forefront of my cranial cavity today after I read the news about Gilbert Gottfried being fired as the quack-tastic voice of the AFLAC spokes-duck, due to the jokes he posted on Twitter about the tragedy in Japan.  A professional acquaintance of mine posted a joke about the same thing on Facebook the day after the tsunami, and it really made me question if it’s ok to laugh at any and everything.  Because as horrible as the joke was and Gottfried’s tweets were, they still made me groan and chuckle.  Should I feel guilty about that?  Should anyone feel bad about what strikes them as funny?  Is laughing at tragedy just a way of dealing with it?  I have to assume that if this disaster affected me personally, I wouldn’t find anything humorous about it.  But would it be wrong of me to condemn anyone who did make jokes about it? 

I don’t know the answer to these questions; all I can do is gauge my own reaction.  I don’t blame AFLAC for firing Gottfried; while I of course support his free speech rights, and his right to tweet anything he wants, he should have expected this consequence.  Companies drop their endorsees because of controversy all the time (Tiger Woods, Michael Vick, etc.), and Gottfried should have restrained himself if he wanted to keep that particular job.  As for the general public – anyone who follows Gilbert Gottfried on Twitter has to know his style of humor: crass, insulting, etc.  So if any of his followers who were offended by his Japan-related jokes, it’s their own fault.  And regarding my colleague who posted that joke on Facebook, chances are anyone who is “friends” with him knows his style of humor.  So I wasn’t shocked that he posted an offensive joke; but I did feel a little guilty about laughing at it. 

Email me if you want to hear the joke; I don’t feel posting it on Facebook is the right thing, but that’s just my opinion – I certainly don’t condemn my colleague for posting it on his page. 

So what’s the answer? Is it really ok to laugh at absolutely anything?  Is there anything too serious to make fun of?  I guess the answer for me – and it’s probably different for everyone – is that it’s ok to laugh at anything, but expect to feel a little bad for doing so.  Whatcha think?