SavvyBlog

Topic —  SavvyDad,

Road Trip Anyone?

July 23, 2011
Trevor Bond

When Amy was in her third trimester, we visited a local baby store to shop for the few items that hadn’t been passed down or gifted to us. First on our list was a baby car seat.

What you need to know about me is that I love taking advice; it seems so much easier than researching. I do realize that advice from salespeople is somewhat tainted by commissions, product availability, trends, and personal opinions, but I view it as a starting point. In the case of shopping for our first car seat, the salesperson was a teenager who spoke like a valley girl, stating everything as a question: ‘Cha, I’m sorry? Like we don’t carry car seats here?’ And as if that wasn’t bad enough, ‘Anyways, car seats are like, really bad for babies?’ Amy informed the youth that perhaps this wasn’t sound advice to provide to new mothers, especially when it significantly restricts their mobility options (like getting home from the hospital, for example). The girl retracted her statement but still suggested a two-hour maximum car seat allowance to prevent ‘like, the spine from curling up?’ As much as this dimwit’s opinion infuriated me, I was haunted by visions of my hunched-over 10 year-old trying to play with the other boys and girls but only being able to stare at his shoes.

Dire outcomes aside, Baxter successfully went on lots of errands in his new car seat, falling soundly asleep on almost every occasion. He visited Amy’s friends and family in Sarnia, then Brantford, and only bellowed when he had a legitimate beef (Sir Pukes-a-Lot demands a rapid mopping up).

A week and a half later, the wagon was packed to the brim and we were heading out on our first major road trip to Boston where fun and adventure greeted us around every corner. Stay tuned.

Topic —  SavvyDad,

Baby Baxter vs. Boston

August 05, 2011
Trevor Bond

It’s funny how tourists sit on statues of Mrs. Mallard and her ducklings. Inspired by McCloskey’s Make Way for Ducklings, the brass mom was just the setting for our family portrait (yes that’s Baxter strapped to my chest). It was there that I realized I can’t smile normally when other people take pictures of me. Can you blame me? I was excited! My new family was traveling in a new town with friendly people. I had a happy wife and a more or less behaved son on my sweaty chest.

Thanks to the generosity of friends on the occasion of our recent marriage, we were treated to a stay at Beacon Hill’s newly renovated former city jail, now the Liberty Hotel. It’s like Toronto’s Drake Hotel taken to the next level with lots of “look-at-me’s” who come out at night to be seen.

So it’s Saturday night and there’s a buzz of multiple parties going on inside the chic, modern hotel with seventeenth century granite walls. In walks the Bond family with a stroller the size of a Humvee. We’re a little sweaty and we smell like pretty-good Indian food. 90 feet under the soaring cupola and guard’s catwalk, we weave through the sudden evening crowd, past the white leather high back chairs, around the Bloody Mary Bar, and past the friendly concierge on our way to the elevators. Once settled in our room, we attempt to keep our uber-cool neighbours awake with baby Baxter’s screams. Now this is living!

In our two-day visit, Baxter made one very fancy dinner miserable but the lack of any discernable schedule excused his evening exorcisms. All in all, he was a gem. He always drew the attention of adoring fans and we began to understand the depth of this new fraternity we’ve joined as we came across so many sympathetic parents with kind, silent stares that communicated a book-full on patience.

As the mercury rises we drive up the coast to Topsham, Maine where we will visit friends who are also new parents. Excited to continue our journey, we’ll be totally oblivious to their lack of air conditioning and lovely loft accommodations.

Topic —  SavvyDad,

Sibling Reveille

August 19, 2011
Trevor Bond

Amy sits in the passenger seat as Baxter sleeps during the majority of the long ride back to Toronto from Maine. I’ve become a chauffeur. As a new dad, I’m noticing countless, minute occurrences that I would never have considered before, like when your wife gets into the backseat while you’re left in the front alone (without a black cap). Fortunately, for the majority of our last day’s drive, I had the pleasure of sharing the sights with Amy while she rode up front with me.

While driving together, we discussed the possibility of growing our family. Our friend, Stephanie, whom we had stayed with in Maine, was pregnant with her second child faster than either she or her husband could say, ‘perhaps we should try for a second’. By their calendar, Baxter would be on the fast track to having a sibling in a few months!

As the youngest of three in my family, I am the one who got away with murder and enjoyed the breakdown of family rules when the chaos became difficult to control. Amy is senior to her brother. Both of them were brought up with strict morals but benefitted from the lessons only siblings can teach each other such as the art of negotiation and communication (read: arguing), defensive and offensive combat skills, and the granddaddy of them all, sharing. Sure parents can teach all these things to a singleton, but not with the impatience, imprudence and immaturity of a sibling.

So before Baxter’s arrival, Amy and I decided there would be another Bond, something that could not have been further from our minds until this visit with Stephanie in Maine and seeing 18 month-old Amos casually poke his brother, the innocent, 4 month-old Obi, for two days. Beyond the competition for attention was a simple, sweet love and affection, a kind of abusive adoration.

As we return home, oblivious to the fact that Baxter will soon SCREAM during the ride from the Toronto suburb of Pickering to Queen Street, downtown, we’re once again thrown back into the blinding ignorance of that fraternity we barely feel valid to claim membership to, parenthood.