On July 6th, 2009, Adayah and I braved the wilds of IKEA in search of a bedside table, a better understanding of how IKEA names its furniture, and eternal happiness. Unfortunately, we came up empty. Fortunately, we did have a fascinating trip into the belly of the beast. For the sake of transparency, its only fair to let you know that the day before this Daddy Day Care Adventure, our whole family unit (me, Adayah, Nayezca, and She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named) took a trip to IKEA in search of a new children’s bed. It was lovely (and by lovely I mean I would rather have someone kick me in the balls with steel-toed boots before I ever go to IKEA on the weekend again). I had a meltdown. Seriously, I felt like a two year old. Instantly I created a fight with She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. I started shaking bunk beds under the pretense that I wanted to see how sturdy they were but knowing I was visualizing shaking people. I sent a text to a friend saying I was on the brink of tears. I alienated my whole family from me. I was entirely disrespectful to some guy in the loading area who tried to help me load furniture into my car. It was awful. It was an emotional train-wreck; the kind of train-wreck where the track is shut down for weeks while investigators sift through the rubble. The worst part was that I couldn’t help it. It was an out of body experience; I watched myself morph into a monster for two hours and couldn’t do anything to change it. And you know what the kicker is, after having reflected on the trip and having some space to think about it? I still assume no responsibility for this. Totally not my fault. Obviously, I’m not particularly proud of the whole incident, but if Dan White can get away with murder because he ate Twinkies, I think I can get away with acting like a two-year old because I entered IKEA on a Sunday. Did I mention I voluntary went back less than 24 hours after, what from where on out will only be referred to as, “The Incident”?
Sigh…
1. Fun For Baby. We arrived at 9:45, which was, in fact, early, given that IKEA doesn’t open until 10. However, they do open the restaurant at 9:30, so Adayah and I shared a breakfast of bad coffee, Swedish pancakes (read: crepes folded into quarters) with dingleberries (lingerberries?), and ice water. Adayah enjoyed the grub and I enjoyed the relative serenity of an almost empty IKEA. We took in the views from the restaurant and pointed together at semis as they came down the connector from I-880 to I-80. She seemed content, even with the over anxious shoppers ogling her (going out in public with a cute baby is about as close as I’ll ever get to celebrity. Everywhere you go people fawn over you, or, in this case, the baby. Its really quite an experience, I think I’ll keep having babies until I’m well into my 60s).
As the store officially opened, I had to wrench the water away from Adayah (as noted in earlier blog entries, her kryptonite) so we could look at glamorous pieces of particleboard. We mazed our way through the upstairs display areas, stopping only at places where I remembered the “Incident”. Because the store was practically empty, and because I didn’t want to have an episode of PTSD, we went quickly. Adayah was entertained when I had a moment looking at different bedside tables and ended up slipping back into that dangerous, dark place that preceded the “Incident”.
As we ended the labyrinth of the upstairs floor, we arrived at the kids’ area, which includes toddler beds (stupid), lacy hanging things (more stupid), and toys (usually stupid). In the spirit of being a “good dad”, we stopped in this area for quite some time so that Adayah could play with the toys. As far as I was concerned, this was fine. Especially because she had blast. She played and climbed and walked and picked random things up and put them back into different places and smiled the whole time. She didn’t get fazed when some 3-year old psycho took a toy from her, and she even tried to share with that same demon a few minutes later. Best of all, she was walking all over the place (major milestone? Check).
Overall score: 9. Lots of toys, lots of smiles, no injuries.
2. Fun for Dad. Considering I had a meltdown the previous day, I’m not sure how to objectively evaluate my own experience in IKEA that morning. Adayah had a great time, which is a plus. I didn’t throw a temper-tantrum; also a plus. She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has not served me with divorce papers yet; big-time plus.
Overall score: 10. Let’s be clear, this is an extremely skewed score. Normally, I wouldn’t set the bar so low that the absence of bad deserves a perfect score, but considering the location of this adventure, I feel comfortable giving IKEA a 10.
3. Cash Money. Operating under the assumption that you are going to IKEA as a recreational outing for your child, IKEA is a cheap trip. Entrance is free, parking is free, food is incredibly cheap ($1.49 for pancakes and coffee? More on this later), and you can stay as long as you want. Brilliant! I think I’ll start going on many more outings with Adayah to corporate shitholes.
Unfortunately, once you are in IKEA, you put yourself at extremely high risk of buying things you don’t need. Even if you only go to watch your child play. You see, Adayah was having such a good time with this one toy that I ended up buying it. It only cost $7.99, which isn’t bad, but you can see how a once free outing can get nasty quick. And then she loved this 3-pack of bouncy balls, so I got that, too ($.99). It’s really bad when your child toys with your desire for her to be a professional athlete. Adayah could point to almost anything sports related and I’d probably buy it for her, rationalizing to myself that the payoff will come later. What’s worse is that you could go into IKEA, play for an hour, and leave with a $300 table that you’ll spend 8 hours putting together.
Overall score: 5. The fact that you need nerves of steel to leave without spending anything is not a positive attribute.
4. Transportation. Very easily accessible by car. The AC Transit #57 bus goes right by. In addition, there is an Emery-Go-Round shuttle, which is free (lines P, BS, CS). Emery-Go-Round serves MacArthur BART and other exciting locales in Emeryville such as Chevy’s, Old Navy, the Oaks Card Club, and the abandoned building formerly known as Circuit City.
Overall score: 8. I’d love to hear a firsthand account from someone who has actually ridden the Emery-Go-Round aside from my friend Josh.
5. Morality Content. In the fleeting moments that I wasn’t overprotectively guarding Adayah from imminent death at the hands of a Swedish-designed toy made in Vietnam, I used my time there to partake in some high-quality people watching. Throngs of people passed through IKEA, and most of them were happy! Happy to be spending their money on what everyone knows to be faux-furniture. I don’t particularly have a problem with feeling happy about buying something and I sure won’t sit here and claim to be above that. However, I like to think that when I’m happy about buying something, I’m actually excited to own the product and have faith that I’m purchasing a good (or at least decent) product. When I buy from IKEA, however, I feel quite the opposite, more like I’m looking at myself in the prison mirror and admitting that I’ve got no shot at outmaneuvering Tiny (read: buying nice furniture) so I might as well give up and get it over with without a fight (read: going to IKEA). To bring this diatribe back to the realities of Daddy Day Care, what values and morals will Adayah learn by spending time at IKEA? That we should be excited about buying shit? (note: in all fairness, IKEA should only assume partial blame for this phenomenon. Our consumption-based mentality surely shoulders some responsibility) Sorry, I don’t want Adayah growing up to excited about shit.
Overall score: 3. If Adayah does grow up being excited about shit, may she be a gastroenterologist and help those poor saps who consistently eat out at IKEA.
6. The “X” Factor. There is something about a full breakfast (eggs, bacon, and potatoes) for $.99 on the way in and a hot dog for $.50 on the way out that really irks me. And the fact that you can get 15 meatballs for less than $5. A lot of people go crazy for IKEA’s food, and I understand why. Its cheaper than fast food (well, it is fast food. To be more specific, cheaper than McDonald’s, Burger King, etc.) and tastes better. Go here for more detailed information about how you, too, could increase your chances for colon cancer: http://www.ikea.com/us/en/store/emeryville/restaurant. There’s just something about dirt-cheap food that turns me off. Call me an elitist, that’s fine.
Overall score: 4. The upside is that, apparently, on Wednesday nights, for only $7.99, you can enjoy a baby-back rib dinner. What a great place for a first date! “Hey there, I’d like to take you out to dinner at this great place in Emeryville. Its casual, and we can share some dingleberries. Whadda you think?”
Final score: 39.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Friday, July 3, 2009
Adventure #2, Habitot
On June 26, 2009, Adayah and I visited “Habitot”, a smorgasbord of toddler toys that my wife bought a membership to a month ago. Speaking of my wife (insert Borat voice here), a wonderful woman named Sonya who I’m truly blessed to have in my life, she will be assuming a new moniker from this point forward in the Daddy Day Care Adventures. Adayah has turned a new corner in her development, and while she still can’t fully speak, read, or shoot dice, she can now say, “Momma” and “Dada” clearly. Very exciting. When she wakes up from a nap and wants Sonya, she calls out, “Momma”. When I come home from throwing temper tantrums on the golf course with my friends, she looks at me, points, and says, with a smile, “Dada”. “Who cares?” you might ask yourself. “Big deal” you might think. Isn’t this simply a developmental milestone that all babies get to? Well, it is, in fact, a big deal because beyond being able to say “Momma” and “Dada”, she understands the meaning. This all become apparent the other day when Sonya called from work, her picture came up, and I unwittingly blurted out, “It’s Momma on the phone.” Woops. Adayah immediately burst into tears and was imploring the world to deliver her Momma to her. The only problem was that Momma was in Vallejo looking at women’s vaginas (she’s a midwife, not a frequent patron of strip clubs). So, as I mentioned earlier from this point forward, my wonderful, beautiful, better half will now be referred to as “She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named” in the interest of not toying with my daughter’s emotions. Yes, it’s true; I’m comparing my wife to Voldemort. I hope I ever get to have sex again.
Onward and upward, let’s dissect Habitot!
1. Fun for baby. Habitot is a brilliant concept. They take a relatively small space (I’d say total square footage is about the size of a large house), fill it with a slew of different toys and activities, and even have a bubbly staff floating in the area. Its not that I’ve never seen those toys before, I’ve just never seen them all in one place. If there were an adult equivalent of Habitot, it would be the Super Longs on 51st and Broadway. The Super Longs has everything from first aid and medicine to fishing supplies and hardware. Habitot has everything from a toy-lending library to a weird, netted wall to crawl in (and the netting even comes off in case you need to rescue your stuck kid). Brilliant.
We began our time in Habitot at the Brio train tables, where they’ve laid out two elaborate train schemes for kids to play with. Adayah plays with trains at home, so she enjoyed this area, although she was thrown off by some of the older kids who had no qualms about stealing her locomotive. I put on my best “I hate you but it would be socially unacceptable to cuss out a 4 year old face” and smiled graciously as the hoodlum stole from my baby. This encounter with a future felon threw Adayah off, and she seemed reluctant to fully enjoy the buffet of baby paraphernalia. Not a great start.
She perked up, however, and we read a book together to get back in the mood to put random things in our mouths (well, her mouth). And, then, we saw it. The mother lode of Habitot: water toys. In a corner of the “museum” (what do you call Habitot, anyways? A museum? A play place? A breeding ground for germs?), there is an area set up for kids to pour water into different buckets, into various contraptions that simulate rivers, and, mostly, onto themselves. Adayah’s Achilles heel is water, and she will happy spend hours splashing about in water (much to my chagrin, most of the time). In this case, it was exactly what we needed, and it put her back in a playful mood. She even let me put a water apron on her (think lassoing at the rodeo).
We dabbled in some more trains, decided that the clay and paints are not for us (this was a huge relief, I must say. When Adayah gets a hold of a paint brush and actually enjoys it, I’ll look like a bad piece of modern art) caught magnetic fake fish with magnetic fake fishing poles, and acted civilly towards other kids. Adayah even got mad when we left, which was a good thing.
Overall score: 8. Habitot is the Snicker’s bar of Baby Adventures. Not particularly flashy, but have you ever had a bad Snicker’s bar?
2. Fun for Dad. Anytime Adayah has fun, I have fun (ok, that’s definitely not true, I just felt some obligation to pretend I’m one of those corny parents who are selfless to a fault. In fact, most of the time Adayah is having fun, I’m cleaning something up, getting ready to clean something up, or getting ready to dial 911. By the end of this whole parenting thing, I’m convinced I’ll have developed a Pavlovian reaction to fun that will end with me in the fetal position with a rag, non-toxic cleaner, and Desitin).
I went into Habitot the following question: Besides relishing in my child’s happiness, how else can I enjoy my time here? The answer? People watching. As I’ve become more accustomed to spending large periods of time surrounded by moms, nannies, and dads with their babies, I’ve become fascinated with watching and observing them (just to clarify, I watch my own child most of the time, I’m not some weirdo who goes to Habitot, puts his kid in the corner with water, and stares at strangers). Part of it is for my own learning as a parent; I’ve seen lots of little tricks from strangers that make a lot of sense for my own parenting (I’ve also seen lots of tricks from strangers that are crazy and will only lead to creating future train thieves). Part of it is making this whole parenting thing feel normal to me. Its actually comforting to see another kid totally flip out when his mom takes something from him because it always makes me realize that this kind of stuff just happens while parenting a baby, that other people go through the same thing. And, finally, part of it is indulging in the running monologue in my head using the poor adults at Habitot as fodder. It’s a lot of fun to look at a complete stranger with her baby, give them the quick up and down, and 15 seconds later you have a life story, including future predictions for both baby and mom. Oh, yeah, and participating with your child when she plays in the water, does art, throws toys, or anything else is pretty fun.
Overall score: 8. I always gauge how much I’ve enjoyed a place by how surprised I am at the time when we leave. Snickers really satisfies.
3. Cash Money. This is actually a complex category. We have a family membership, which costs $115 for a year, so we went in for free. We’ll be going to Habitot at least weekly, so over a 52-week year, a membership is money well spent. We had to pay $1.50 for street parking as well. So, we were in and out for $1.50, not including the membership fee (but my wife bought it, so for me it really felt like $1.50).
If you go, admission is $8 for an adult, $7 for a kid, and kids under 12 months are free (wow!). I remember seeing someone use a AAA card to get some discount, so that helps, too (I’m not sure what the discount is). When I first saw their admission prices, I thought it was steep, until I remembered the merry-go-round. You can get in for $15, stay as long as you want, and, theoretically, your child’s brain and fine motor skills will have developed. Not so bad, considering you can pay $10 at the merry-go-round, be done in 15 minutes, and develop vertigo. I will forever use the merry-go-round as a litmus test for how expensive outings are.
Overall score: 7. I was going to give it a 6, but how cool is it that a baby/kid oriented place doesn’t charge for below one-years old? Take that, pinche merry-go-round.
4. Transportation. Habitot is on the corner of Kittredge and the random street that connects the Berkeley Public Library and the YMCA, in the basement of the building, next to the Hall of Health. It is a block from Downtown Berkeley BART, served by the 1, 1R, 7, 9, 15, 18, 19, 51, 52L, 65, 67, 79, 800, 851, and F buses.
Overall score: 10. How could the score be anything less considering AC Transit basically routes its entire system towards Habitot. In fact, let’s really throw caution to the wind and award Habitot a bonus point. 11.
5. Morality Content. Besides learning that clothes get wet when doused with water, I assume that Habitot is a place where Adayah will learn to express herself, use and manipulate objects (such as her parents) to build fine motor skills, and engage positively with other children. Can’t argue with that, can you? For a better, more professional explanation of some of the goals Habitot has set for itself, go here: http://www.habitot.org/hab/about_mission.htm
Overall score: 6. Everything is wonderful, except the fact that Habitot is in a basement. What message does this give? Positive child development belongs in a basement? Also, please see “X” Factor for another unfortunate event that hurts Habitot’s morality rating.
6. The “X” Factor. All in all, our trip to Habitot was pretty mundane. Not a bad mundane, just kind of normal. Nobody got hurt, nobody got swine flu, pretty normal. That is, of course, if you consider thongs all in your face a normal thing. Let me explain…
I’d like to start this explanation off with a disclaimer. Generally, I like thongs. They’re a pleasant accoutrement to a nice outfit on She-Who-Must-Be-Named, as well a nice touch to any rap video. Its just that I don’t need to see some random lady’s ass and her thong hanging out (I’m talking the entire thing, not one of those seeing the tip of the thongs, I could see the entire thing. The entire thing. Am I clear?). Especially not in Habitot. So, it was a little unsettling when Adayah and I turned the corner of Habitot to go to the farm area and we were assaulted by some woman’s thong. What does one do in that situation? Kindly shield your child by distracting her? Point to the trains and hope she wants to play there? Point to the woman’s thong and tell Adayah, “Don’t you ever do that to me!”? Nudge the nanny next to you, point to the woman and her thong, and do the eyebrow raise? File a formal complaint at the front desk? Walk up to the woman and tell her that everyone in Habitot just decided they’ve become celibate? It’s a tough call, and to be honest, I was stumped. I resorted to spitting up a bit of bile into my mouth and going with Adayah to look at some molded plastic.
Overall Score: 4 points. The thong wasn’t cool, but at least we made it home without any swine flu or venereal disease.
Final Score: 44.
Onward and upward, let’s dissect Habitot!
1. Fun for baby. Habitot is a brilliant concept. They take a relatively small space (I’d say total square footage is about the size of a large house), fill it with a slew of different toys and activities, and even have a bubbly staff floating in the area. Its not that I’ve never seen those toys before, I’ve just never seen them all in one place. If there were an adult equivalent of Habitot, it would be the Super Longs on 51st and Broadway. The Super Longs has everything from first aid and medicine to fishing supplies and hardware. Habitot has everything from a toy-lending library to a weird, netted wall to crawl in (and the netting even comes off in case you need to rescue your stuck kid). Brilliant.
We began our time in Habitot at the Brio train tables, where they’ve laid out two elaborate train schemes for kids to play with. Adayah plays with trains at home, so she enjoyed this area, although she was thrown off by some of the older kids who had no qualms about stealing her locomotive. I put on my best “I hate you but it would be socially unacceptable to cuss out a 4 year old face” and smiled graciously as the hoodlum stole from my baby. This encounter with a future felon threw Adayah off, and she seemed reluctant to fully enjoy the buffet of baby paraphernalia. Not a great start.
She perked up, however, and we read a book together to get back in the mood to put random things in our mouths (well, her mouth). And, then, we saw it. The mother lode of Habitot: water toys. In a corner of the “museum” (what do you call Habitot, anyways? A museum? A play place? A breeding ground for germs?), there is an area set up for kids to pour water into different buckets, into various contraptions that simulate rivers, and, mostly, onto themselves. Adayah’s Achilles heel is water, and she will happy spend hours splashing about in water (much to my chagrin, most of the time). In this case, it was exactly what we needed, and it put her back in a playful mood. She even let me put a water apron on her (think lassoing at the rodeo).
We dabbled in some more trains, decided that the clay and paints are not for us (this was a huge relief, I must say. When Adayah gets a hold of a paint brush and actually enjoys it, I’ll look like a bad piece of modern art) caught magnetic fake fish with magnetic fake fishing poles, and acted civilly towards other kids. Adayah even got mad when we left, which was a good thing.
Overall score: 8. Habitot is the Snicker’s bar of Baby Adventures. Not particularly flashy, but have you ever had a bad Snicker’s bar?
2. Fun for Dad. Anytime Adayah has fun, I have fun (ok, that’s definitely not true, I just felt some obligation to pretend I’m one of those corny parents who are selfless to a fault. In fact, most of the time Adayah is having fun, I’m cleaning something up, getting ready to clean something up, or getting ready to dial 911. By the end of this whole parenting thing, I’m convinced I’ll have developed a Pavlovian reaction to fun that will end with me in the fetal position with a rag, non-toxic cleaner, and Desitin).
I went into Habitot the following question: Besides relishing in my child’s happiness, how else can I enjoy my time here? The answer? People watching. As I’ve become more accustomed to spending large periods of time surrounded by moms, nannies, and dads with their babies, I’ve become fascinated with watching and observing them (just to clarify, I watch my own child most of the time, I’m not some weirdo who goes to Habitot, puts his kid in the corner with water, and stares at strangers). Part of it is for my own learning as a parent; I’ve seen lots of little tricks from strangers that make a lot of sense for my own parenting (I’ve also seen lots of tricks from strangers that are crazy and will only lead to creating future train thieves). Part of it is making this whole parenting thing feel normal to me. Its actually comforting to see another kid totally flip out when his mom takes something from him because it always makes me realize that this kind of stuff just happens while parenting a baby, that other people go through the same thing. And, finally, part of it is indulging in the running monologue in my head using the poor adults at Habitot as fodder. It’s a lot of fun to look at a complete stranger with her baby, give them the quick up and down, and 15 seconds later you have a life story, including future predictions for both baby and mom. Oh, yeah, and participating with your child when she plays in the water, does art, throws toys, or anything else is pretty fun.
Overall score: 8. I always gauge how much I’ve enjoyed a place by how surprised I am at the time when we leave. Snickers really satisfies.
3. Cash Money. This is actually a complex category. We have a family membership, which costs $115 for a year, so we went in for free. We’ll be going to Habitot at least weekly, so over a 52-week year, a membership is money well spent. We had to pay $1.50 for street parking as well. So, we were in and out for $1.50, not including the membership fee (but my wife bought it, so for me it really felt like $1.50).
If you go, admission is $8 for an adult, $7 for a kid, and kids under 12 months are free (wow!). I remember seeing someone use a AAA card to get some discount, so that helps, too (I’m not sure what the discount is). When I first saw their admission prices, I thought it was steep, until I remembered the merry-go-round. You can get in for $15, stay as long as you want, and, theoretically, your child’s brain and fine motor skills will have developed. Not so bad, considering you can pay $10 at the merry-go-round, be done in 15 minutes, and develop vertigo. I will forever use the merry-go-round as a litmus test for how expensive outings are.
Overall score: 7. I was going to give it a 6, but how cool is it that a baby/kid oriented place doesn’t charge for below one-years old? Take that, pinche merry-go-round.
4. Transportation. Habitot is on the corner of Kittredge and the random street that connects the Berkeley Public Library and the YMCA, in the basement of the building, next to the Hall of Health. It is a block from Downtown Berkeley BART, served by the 1, 1R, 7, 9, 15, 18, 19, 51, 52L, 65, 67, 79, 800, 851, and F buses.
Overall score: 10. How could the score be anything less considering AC Transit basically routes its entire system towards Habitot. In fact, let’s really throw caution to the wind and award Habitot a bonus point. 11.
5. Morality Content. Besides learning that clothes get wet when doused with water, I assume that Habitot is a place where Adayah will learn to express herself, use and manipulate objects (such as her parents) to build fine motor skills, and engage positively with other children. Can’t argue with that, can you? For a better, more professional explanation of some of the goals Habitot has set for itself, go here: http://www.habitot.org/hab/about_mission.htm
Overall score: 6. Everything is wonderful, except the fact that Habitot is in a basement. What message does this give? Positive child development belongs in a basement? Also, please see “X” Factor for another unfortunate event that hurts Habitot’s morality rating.
6. The “X” Factor. All in all, our trip to Habitot was pretty mundane. Not a bad mundane, just kind of normal. Nobody got hurt, nobody got swine flu, pretty normal. That is, of course, if you consider thongs all in your face a normal thing. Let me explain…
I’d like to start this explanation off with a disclaimer. Generally, I like thongs. They’re a pleasant accoutrement to a nice outfit on She-Who-Must-Be-Named, as well a nice touch to any rap video. Its just that I don’t need to see some random lady’s ass and her thong hanging out (I’m talking the entire thing, not one of those seeing the tip of the thongs, I could see the entire thing. The entire thing. Am I clear?). Especially not in Habitot. So, it was a little unsettling when Adayah and I turned the corner of Habitot to go to the farm area and we were assaulted by some woman’s thong. What does one do in that situation? Kindly shield your child by distracting her? Point to the trains and hope she wants to play there? Point to the woman’s thong and tell Adayah, “Don’t you ever do that to me!”? Nudge the nanny next to you, point to the woman and her thong, and do the eyebrow raise? File a formal complaint at the front desk? Walk up to the woman and tell her that everyone in Habitot just decided they’ve become celibate? It’s a tough call, and to be honest, I was stumped. I resorted to spitting up a bit of bile into my mouth and going with Adayah to look at some molded plastic.
Overall Score: 4 points. The thong wasn’t cool, but at least we made it home without any swine flu or venereal disease.
Final Score: 44.
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