Noah

We had a few dogs growing up but they weren’t really mine. They belonged to my mom. One dog died when I was very little and two others came into our lives when I was a teenager and rarely home long enough to spend much time with them. I have no memory of cleaning up after them, feeding them, or taking them to the vet. That was all on my mom. While I was away at college, my mom had to give up her dog because she was moving. Although I felt sad for her, it didn’t really faze me at all.

When I met the Dude, he often talked about his family dogs. He treated all of his dogs like they were his siblings and, whenever a dog passed away, it was devastating for the entire family. I was moved by their dog stories, but I didn’t really get it. However,  the Dude and his family loved their dogs and I knew that to be married into this family meant having a dog of our own one day.  It took me a while to get used to that idea.

I really did like dogs, but I didn’t necessarily like the idea of one living with me. They shed, they bark, they drool, they chew and, in general, they’re a big responsibility. Plus, we were living in a San Francisco apartment and I didn’t want a dog living in such a cramped space without a backyard. Then we had our Monkey and there was no way I was going to take on a new dog with an infant in the apartment.

By the time the Monkey turned 2 and we had already moved into a house, I finally came around to the idea that a dog would be a good idea. I had no doubt that a dog to grow up with would be an incredible experience for our kid. But when a few rescue agencies did their home inspection and informed us that it would take a long time to place a dog with us because of our toddler, I began to lose interest again. Yet, over the course of the next year, it became more and more evident that the Monkey loved dogs. He was fascinated by them. I could no longer refuse my kid the opportunity to grow up with his own dog.

A few months after the Monkey turned 3, and after much research, we found our ideal dog. The Portuguese Water Dog. Yes, just like that adorable dog in the White House. The PWD doesn’t shed, loves water (obviously), is great with kids, is incredibly smart and trainable, and doesn’t get that big – 50 to 60 pounds max. Sure, we were told that the puppy stage lasts a bit longer than other breeds, that they are very “mouthy”, and also jabber-jaw to communicate, but I felt those were all things I could deal with…kinda.

We brought Noah home in March when he was about 8 weeks old and 8 pounds. He was very much a puppy. He pooped and peed everywhere, chewed on everything, and would steal the Monkey’s toys. The Monkey was not amused. In fact, he really didn’t enjoy him very much for the first few months and would shy away from him. It was strange to see my son, who loved to chase 80 pound Labradors around, be a little nervous about a small furry creature under 10 pounds. It was like there was a Gremlin living in our house. And one who wasn’t even house-trained, to boot.

As for me, I quickly came to the conclusion that bringing a puppy home was nearly as challenging as a newborn baby. We would have to wake up a few times during the night to take him outside and also deal with multiple daily accidents. We couldn’t leave Noah alone for very long for several months. He would jump up on the table and steal food. He chewed a few rugs, table legs, two electronics cords, a duvet cover, and countless toys. Now at 7 months old, he still jumps too much and occasionally chews the wrong things, but we’ve recently hired a trainer to help us with those issues. I also had to get used to the fact that I will never be able to keep my dark hardwood floors as clean as before. I’m still getting used to that.

It was quite an adjustment to have a dog in the family, but it’s safe to say that we are now a dog-family. The Monkey went from running away from the tiny fur-ball to pouncing on the now 40 pound dog as if he was Hulk Hogan. The dog will sometimes run away from the kid these days, but it’s pretty obvious that they adore one another. I often find them snuggling on the couch together and Noah tends to end up on the Monkey’s bed during the night. It’s a beautiful thing. As for me, I can’t imagine living without Noah. As a stay-at-home mom, Noah is mostly my responsibility. I feed him, clean up after him, walk him, and take him to the vet. In turn, he follows me everywhere and gives me, as well as the Dude and the Monkey, unconditional love.

I recently told the Dude that Noah is just another reason why we could never divorce  – because I am unwilling to ever give him up. It really hit me in that moment that I have officially become a dog person. It was about time.

This newly updated blog has been a work in progress for well over a month and nearly all credit must be given to the Dude – lawyer by day, web designer/developer by night. No one else could have possibly been able to capture my vision, make it functional, and exceed all my expectations…or maybe they could of, but certainly at a much higher rate. Being married to your web designer does come in handy.

During this time, the Dude captured a few images of the work in progress. Click through the images below to see the evolution of the AYMB design process:

We are still working out a few kinks here and there, so please let me know if you come across any issues.

Hope you like the new site and come back again soon!

The Dude photographs monkeys of all kinds.

One Sunday morning at the beginning of last year, I read this piece in the New York Times Magazine, which postulates that parenting today is defined by the process of archiving digital media of our children.  More morosely, it explains that

American children in 2010 have a bright, clear reason for being. They exist to furnish subjects for digital photographs that can be corrected, cropped, captioned, organized, categorized, albumized, broadcast, turned into screen savers and brandished on online social networks.

Tongue even more firmly in cheek, the article describes the initiation process into digital parenthood:

The marching orders come immediately, with the newborn photo, which must be e-mailed to friends before a baby has left the maternity ward. A conscientious father . . . must snap dozens of shots of the modestly wrapped newborn. . . . Back at a laptop, he uploads the haul, scrutinizing pixels. . . . He selects a becoming one. The mother signs off, often via e-mail, from her hospital bed. . . . Thus a parent is minted.

Indeed.  And it doesn’t stop at the hospital. We all take virtual piles of pictures now that digital cameras have become nearly disposable in price and cameraphones ubiquitious.  But for all of the advantages of digital media — immediacy, bottomless storage, etc. — there is one serious disadvantage: It takes but a small computer problem to lose it all.  Anyone who’s experienced a hard drive crash can attest to just how many precious memories can be lost in an instant.  And, disaster aside, I think we’ve all grown a bit overwhelmed by the sheer number of files and sources of our digital media.

So, given my role as Archivist-in-Chief in our household, Aimee thought I might be able to give AYMB readers some helpful advice by describing what we do in terms of documenting the Monkey, how we archive/curate it all, and how we secure and back it up.  But first, some background.

The Dude, Digital Archivist
If digital archiving is the hallmark of 21st century parenting, then I had been minted as Dad long before biologically becoming one.  For reasons only a psychiatrist could explain, I’ve always been a bit of a digital archivist.  By the time I graduated law school, I had stored on my computer not only every paper I had written since high school, but also, freakishly, every email I had ever written and every digital picture I had ever taken.  Then, I undertook the project of digitizing my collection of thousands of CDs.  Throw in, over the next few years, a concert photography hobby, a side-gig as live-show archivist for a band, and another pile of music, and I was juggling a few terrabytes of data before the Monkey was even a proverbial glimmer.

In short, I was well prepared for tackling the project of documenting, archiving, and curating all things Monkey.  I packed for the Monkey’s birth as I did for any other adventure: neatly stuffing into my camera bag 2 digital SLR bodies, 4 lenses, an external flash, gig after gig of memory cards, more chargers and batteries than you could imagine, and a digital HD video camera.  My bag weighed more than the Monkey at birth — and the replacement value eclipsed the hospital bill.  But it was worth it in every way. Aimee did indeed sign off on a picture, and we used it to announce the Monkey to the world before even leaving the hospital.

Parenting by 1s and 0s
I’d bet dollars to donuts that this long walk down a short digital pier resonates with many AYMB readers — if not in scale, then at least in theme.  If it does, consider following advice for managing your digital memories:

1. Take lots of pictures and video (and voice memos). Memory and storage is cheap these days.  A 4GB SD card can be had for $25 bucks.  4GB!?!  That’ll hold thousands of pics.  Snap away.  Don’t be shy.  You can delete later, but you can’t recapture lost moments.

2. Dont forget about your smart phone. With smart phones getting much cheaper, we have access to a lot more ways to record life.  That iPhone (or equivalent) in your pocket takes pretty darn good pictures, records pretty good sound files, and (the newest generation, at least) shoots some pretty incredible video.  Your phone is the one electronic device you almost always have with you.  Don’t forget it’s there.

3. Find a workflow that works . . . and stick to it. As with anything in life, you will be more likely to stick to it if you can find a routine that works for you.  On a computer, we call that “workflow.”  It’s what you do, start to finish, to get your media off your devices, onto your computer, onto the web, and backed up safely.  Everyone’s workflow will be different, and you need to find the one that works for you.  Here’s mine:

• I create a topical folder for each photgraphed “event.”  For example, we took The Monkey to play in the snow over the weekend, bringing with our two iPhones, Aimee’s point-and-shoot, and my SLR.  When we got back, I dumped the media from each of those four sources into one folder entitled “2011-01-08 (snow-day).”
• I generally sift and edit photos in Picasa.  Although I use Lightroom and Aperture for more extensive editing jobs, I find Picasa to be the most intuitive, fastest, and most complete program (especially because I use Picasa for online storage and sharing).  Picasa is free and, for those who care, non-destructive.  iPhoto is great, I’m sure; I’ve never used it.
• I take a couple “laps” through a set of pictures.  During the first lap I flag (in Picasa, I use the star system) the pics that should be deleted.  Those are the ones that are just plain bad — bad exposure, bad framing, blur, someone eating with their mouth open, etc.  I would guess that I delete almost 2/3 of all pictures in this first lap.  After deleting those, the next lap is dedicated to culling the pics that are passable and worth editing and sharing.  Generally, I’d say about half of the pictures make it out of this lap and into a “final” subfolder (and then online for sharing with family and friends).  This time, I don’t delete the “non-final” ones; I keep them for future re-editing, alternate versions, etc.  Again, storage is pretty cheap.
• I finish up by dragging that folder onto my external storage device for backing up and safe keeping.

4. Use effective naming conventions and folder structures. This one sounds dorky, but it helps a ton.  As I mentioned, I organize my photos by “events.”  I always use the YYYY-MM-DD (event name) convention because it will sort/alphabetize property, and because it allows quick identification.  I then place those topical/event folders within folders by year.  2008, 2009, 2010, etc.  If you don’t take a lot of pictures, these yearly folders might not be necessary.  It helps me a lot.

5. Backup early and often. I have literally hundreds of hours and thousands of dollars invested into my photos.  And that’s just the tip of the iceberg.  Their sentimental and historical value is truly beyond measure.  And it could take as little as a three-year-old spilling water, electrical spike, or hard drive crash to wipe it all out.  Everything.  In a second.  And, yes, hard drives do fail.  Often.  They’re tiny magnetic discs that spin400,000 times per hour.  Even the best ones eventually break.

So, I remain vigilant about backups.  I’ll describe my backup system below, but mine is almost certainly more complicated than yours needs to be.  The casual photographer probably can get away with a simple external hard drive; amazon.com has several 500GB ones for much less than $100.  You can manually drag your prized data onto it, or could use any number of free or cheap backup programs.  Apple users should consider Time Machine, for example.  For those into idiot-proof solutions, I’ve found the Click-Free auto-backup external drive to be a nice solution.  My mom has used one for a couple years now, with not one complaint.  (And she set it up without me!)

If you’re as paranoid as I am, you might consider a bulkier setup.  I have a 6TB RAID-configured Network Attached Storage device in the closet with our networking and stereo equipment.  That’s a fancy way of saying that I have a very big, very reliable hard drive stored out of harm’s way.  The Monkey can’t spill on it.  I can’t accidentally drop it.  And, because it’s attached to a $40 UPS (uninterruptible power supply), it can shut down safely in the event of a power outage.  As soon as I’m done sifting/editing, my pictures get stored on that drive.  And then, because I’m truly paranoid, I have a second drive that I store at my office and bring home once/month to clone the home drive.  The off-site drive gives me a second backup that should add protection against theft, fire, flood, earthquake etc.

Your Tips?
Do you have any tips you’d like to share with AYMB readers?  We’d love to hear from you.

Happy shutterbugging.

My Monkey with his two favorite things - his iPhone and his monkey. A pic taken with my iPhone, of course.

My two year old has his own iPhone.

Now, before you think I am absolutely insane to buy an expensive phone for my toddler, let me assure you that I did not run out and drop $300 on a new phone for him. No way. However, being the ultimate tech-geek that he is, the Dude did run out a few months ago to get himself the new iPhone 4G. This meant that we had his old iPhone available to be donated to a good cause. We quickly realized that the best cause was our little Monkey.

The Monkey has been playing with our iPhones since around his 2nd birthday, nearly one year ago. When I discovered how toddler-friendly certain iPhone apps could be for him, I researched the most educational and creative apps and loaded them up on our iPhones. I was so impressed with certain apps, that I wrote a post back in April about my favorite iPhone apps for toddlers. With thousands of hits, that post quickly became my most popular blog post. Either there are a ton of other parents out there letting their toddlers play with their iPhone and iPads or people are simply curious to learn more about it.

It does seem that more and more people are discovering that it’s smart to let your kids play with smart phones. An iPhone or other smart phone can, with proper guidance and supervision, be used as a valuable teaching tool for children. The interactive content on an iPhone can help developing brains learn how to problem-solve and figure things out quickly and, when exposed to educational apps, a toddler’s learning process can actually be enhanced. Consider apps to be a valuable supplement to the teaching process already going on in your home or in preschool.

There are pros and cons to letting a toddler use an iPhone, so here are my helpful ideas on safe iPhone play:

• It’s easy for adults to drop and break an iPhone (*raises hand*), which means it’s even easier for toddlers to drop one. Buy a hard or sturdy case and screen protector to safeguard the phone as well as possible.
• If you’re giving your child an old iPhone, make sure to remove the SIM card. If you’re handing your phone over, put it in Airplane mode. You don’t need junior making calls to long-distance relatives.
• Make sure to remove content that is not appropriate or that may cost you money if used. For example, I had to remove the “Mad Men” cocktail app (a toddler is a little young to learn how to mix a martini, right?) and my Woot app. I really can’t afford for my child to purchase a random t-shirt or a case of wine every day.
• Load up the iPhone with toddler-friendly apps, pictures, videos, music, and even movies. Need ideas for toddler-friendly apps? You’ve come to the right place. Check out my top 15 apps for preschoolers.
• Limit the time your child can use the iPhone. 20 minutes is a reasonable time limit for toddlers.
• Considering that the iPhone has access to the Internet and websites like YouTube, watch your child use the device and monitor his or her activities to ensure that they are not accessing anything inappropriate.
• Play with your child using the apps or at least check in here and there to see what they doing. Not only is it for their protection but it also helps you evaluate how they use it and what they are learning.

If you’re the parent of a toddler, preschooler, or kindergartner, do you let your children use interactive media or devices, such as an iPhone? Why or why not? Would love to hear your thoughts.

His & Her jeans. Guess which is which.

The Dude is about 2 inches shorter than me. On a good day.

There are days when we’re about the same height, like when I’m in flats and he’s wearing his fancy Cole Haans. And then there are days when I’m about 5 inches taller. Those are the days I wear heels. Those days are few and far between. It’s not because I care about being so much taller than the Dude. It’s because I’m clumsy enough as it is wearing flats.

I’m 5’9 and, before I met the Dude, I usually only dated men taller than me. I didn’t have anything against dating shorter men. Really. In fact, it was quite the opposite. Shorter guys never approached me and I was much too shy to approach anyone, let alone a cute shorter dude that didn’t even look my way. As soon as I sprouted in junior high to become the 2nd tallest girl in the class, the guys immediately stopped teasing and flirting with me. Instead, they asked me to play on their recess basketball teams. In high school, the cute short girls snagged all of my crushes, many of whom were my height or shorter. I never saw tall girls and short boys together. It was only when Tom Cruise married Nicole Kidman that I believed that there were people out there that didn’t give a crap about height.

How many times have you heard a woman say that she would never date a man shorter than her or a man say that he only likes women a certain height?  It’s the kind of stuff I heard in high school and continue to hear well into my 30′s. What gives?

I suppose there is some sort of biological or societal instinct for women to date taller and bigger men. Big and tall men are seen as protectors and women like feeling secure in their man’s arms. Many men also have that urge to protect and shelter their woman. Is this need based on the hunter-gatherer mentality passed down through the generations, is it something biologically driven, or is it founded on simple vanity influenced by media images and societal standards? The only thing I left out is simply this – men, on average, are taller than women. Heterosexual couples usually include a taller man and a shorter woman because that is what is usually available. But what if the best man or woman for you comes in a package that’s shorter or taller than you expected?

Here’s the thing I wonder about – how many amazing people have  been ignored by others only because they didn’t meet a certain height criteria.  How many incredible love stories have never been told because a man or woman was too short or too tall.  If I had cared that much about height difference, then there is a good chance I never would have dated the Dude. He clearly didn’t care about the height difference and pursued me anyways. That kind of confidence was something I had never seen before in another man. Getting to know him early on our relationship, I found everything I had been looking for in a man (and then some) but had never found. We’ve been together over 7 years now and the only time the height difference comes up is when we joke around about me keeping stuff out of his reach on the high kitchen shelves.

I see a lot more couples these days that don’t care about height. Every time I see another taller woman/shorter man couple on the street, I want to give them a high-five. I have to be honest, it’s very cool to see. Thanks to Tom Cruise and other celebs, we’re seeing it a lot more in the media as well. As soon as I see a love story in a movie about a much taller woman and a shorter man (and not one portrayed by actors that really are but have been disguised for us to think otherwise), I’ll know that our society has moved forward with this whole height difference hang-up.

All of this is to say that if your height criteria is the first thing you assess (and then reject) in a potential partner, you have no idea what you might be missing out on. Reject someone because they don’t treat you well or have an attitude problem, not because they’re two inches shorter than your standards. If you’re looking for love, don’t initially discriminate against those aren’t as tall or short as you had hoped.  The love of your life might be right under your nose. Literally.

The best moments in life are not filled with words. Only love. The Dude and The Monkey, on vacation, in 2008.

Seven years ago, this week, I was introduced to the Dude by my sister.

Before I met him, there was a trend with most of the guys I dated. The more I got to know them, the less I liked them. The opposite was true with the Dude. After every e-mail, phone call, or date, I liked him even more. Within a month, I knew this guy had *The One* potential. But what really locked my heart up was something he said to me shortly after we started dating.

During one of our many conversations about life ambitions, goals, and dreams, the Dude mentioned that he could not wait to be a father. That really floored me, mostly because having kids was the last thing on my mind. I had too many other important things to do, like finish my graduate degree and get a promotion. But here was this highly ambitious and successful 26 year old man telling me that the most important thing he ever wanted to become was a good dad. In that same conversation, he questioned how he would be able to handle the task of working grueling hours at a law firm and being present for his future kids.  He wanted to be there for every milestone, every first day of school, every parent-teacher meeting, and every soccer game. In fact, he wanted to coach the soccer team.  He told me right then and there that he would quit his job if it meant he couldn’t be there for his kids. Despite not knowing him very well at the time, I believed him. Seven years and one kid later, I still believe him. Because it’s true.

When I became pregnant with the Monkey, the Dude became more and more anxious. He was a fast-rising star in his San Francisco law firm, but he (and we) paid the consequences for it. Working late hours and all weekend became the norm. Dinner reservations would be canceled, trips would be postponed, and many hot meals that I cooked became cold leftovers for the next day. It was a miracle if we could get to bed at the same time. We were not able to spend quality time together and neither one of us was happy about it. When our Monkey was born, the Dude took 2 months off of work to help with the baby. It was a financial and career sacrifice, but it was something the Dude insisted on doing for our family. Being with his newborn son 24 hours a day was an incredibly special time for all of us, which made it all the harder when he finally went back to work. Once again, the late nights at the office and working weekends became our routine.  We started talking about Plan B but, what that plan was, we didn’t know. All we knew was that something had to change.

Something did change. When the Monkey was 5 months old, the Dude received a job offer in Southern California. It meant that he could work normal business hours. It meant dinner at home every night and family weekends. It meant that vacations didn’t need to be postponed. It meant that family life was the priority and that the Dude no longer had to worry about missing anything. It also meant a pay-cut and that he was no longer on partner-track at a law firm. But, if you ask him, that wasn’t much of a sacrifice. The ultimate sacrifice in life is when you’re sacrificing valuable time with your kids and family.

I know now why I never anticipated having a child. It’s only because I had never met anyone I wanted to have a child with until I met the Dude.  I knew from the start that he would make a good dad and I was right. It’s the best thing I’ve ever been right about. He is a good dad and one that only gets better at it each and every day. That alone makes me love him more every day.

Happy Father’s Day to the Dude, my own wonderful father, grandfather, father-in-law, brother and all the other good dads out there. You are loved and appreciated. Keep doing what you’re doing…and continue to help inspire the next generation of good dads.

I walked over to the polling station down the street from me with my toddler in tow. I didn’t have to take him with me. Grandma is coming over later to babysit and I could have waited until then. I also could have gone later today when the Dude returned from work. But I didn’t want to do that. I wanted to bring my 2 year old with me because I want him to be a part of this day, even if he’s 16 years away from casting his first vote.

It’s not the Monkey’s first election. He was first introduced to the election process at 2 weeks old. I remember strolling him down the street to our local firehouse in downtown San Francisco. Sure, he slept through all of it but I was glad he was there with me while I performed my civic duty. I hope he is always with me on these important days.

I have great memories of going to the polls with my parents. We would walk down to a neighbor’s garage and I would go into the polling booth with one of my parents while they filled out their votes. I remember talking to them about their decisions and why they voted a certain way. I didn’t always agree with them (I still don’t!) but it always made for interesting conversations. I still enjoy talking to both of my parents about our elections, especially when we have differing points of view.

Shortly after I turned 18 in 1994, I once again walked down to a neighbor’s garage with my mother. But, this time, I got to cast my first vote.  It wasn’t a big Presidential election, but I was able to voice my opinions on a number of other issues and elections. I remember feeling really good after I left the polling booth. I felt like an adult and true citizen for the first time in my young life.

Not an election goes by that I do not vote. When I move, one of the first things on my to-do list is to register to vote. It’s sometimes a challenge to get to the polls, especially when we have kids in tow, but it’s something that can’t be be ignored. I was contemplating whether or not to register for a permanent vote-by-mail, just to make things easier, but the Dude had a good argument against it. It’s important to bring your kids to the polls. It’s important to introduce them to the democratic process, no matter how young. We may be frustrated if the line is long, but those minutes spent waiting to voice our political opinions are worth it. Children are never too young to witness the power of voting and democracy in action

Unlike so many other countries, we’re able to express our political opinions on a regular basis. We should never take that for granted. Don’t let your kids take it for granted, either. Take them to the polls and talk to them about the process. If they’re old enough to question your beliefs and votes, don’t hide from that conversation. Discuss, inform from all points of view, and then let make their own decisions. Modeling how to be a responsible citizen with an informed and educated opinion is one of the best gifts you can give to your children.

But this time was different.

This mom was really cool and I liked her immediately.  We simply had one of those conversations that just *clicked.* Within a matter of minutes, we learned a great deal about each other and discovered we had quite a bit in common. I felt a connection and wanted to get know her more. I could tell she felt the same way, too. But, then the Dude arrived at the park to surprise the Monkey and, after an introduction and a few more minutes of chatting, she turned away to run after her boys and we started getting ready to head home. I didn’t quite know how to approach her after that, so I left without getting her digits.

I learned something that day. Picking up on other moms is hard to do.

It’s one thing to meet new mom (or dad) friends at playgroups, sports, lessons, or through school, but how do you ignite a friendship with someone you just met and connected with…but have no way of knowing if you’ll ever see them again? Is it weird to ask for a number or e-mail address (or offer your own) in a matter of minutes? I don’t have much, if any experience with this sort of thing. Nearly everyone I call a friend just somehow became a part of my world, mostly through regular interactions at places like work or school or through mutual friends. Between my real life friends, acquaintances,  and online community of blogging buddies, I don’t actively look to expand my social network.  But, just like when you’re looking for romance, friendships can often be found when you’re least expecting it.

I have a new appreciation for the men and women who are confident and brave enough to ask someone they just met for their information. I’m sure they fail at times, but I’m certain they ultimately succeed as well. And what’s the big deal if someone says no, right? At least they took a chance and asked.

I think I missed an opportunity to become friends with someone I thought was really cool. I hope I see her at the park again one day. And, if I do, I’ll make sure to take a chance.

I love outdoor shows, especially on a beautiful summer day or warm evening. Bringing your kids along can be one of the best ways to introduce them to music.  Some of my earliest childhood memories center around music and live shows so, needless to say, music has always been important to me.  Before pregnancy, live shows were something the Dude and I ventured to regularly and would even plan vacations around. That didn’t stop when I got pregnant. The Monkey probably went to about 30 shows in the womb, from bluegrass and classical to jazz and popular rock. My last concert was about two weeks before my due date. I’m still not sure how I waddled my way to that show, but I certainly got plenty of dancing space!

There is no better way to expose children to music than to introduce them to the live creation of it. To actually experience the formation of beautiful and complex melodies is a wonderful way to stimulate the senses of children and help cognitive and physical development. However, as important as it is to expose young ears to the gift of music, it’s even more important to protect those ears. The type of venue, music genre, the type of crowd, and the acoustics are important pieces of information to gather before you buy your tickets.

If you have an infant, a comfortable wearable wrap or carrier is the ideal way to bring your baby along to a show. If your child is walking, running and exploring, it’s best to bring them to shows that have a safe space for them to do those things (with someone watching them, of course). It’s also very important to buy a good pair of headphones for your child.  If the show is acoustic, headphones won’t usually be necessary. However, even local summer shows in the park can be loud. You may not need the headphones, but always make sure you have them handy. Before we go to a show, we practice with the Monkey by putting the headphones on at the house while playing music. Making a game of it or giving your child a sticker or treat when they leave the headphones on is a good way to make sure they keep them on. You can also buy a wax substance to put in their ears, but the Monkey prefers the headphones. So do I. That stuff is hard to use!

When you’re going to a show, make sure to pack like you’re going on a picnic or to the beach. Bring plenty of sunscreen, a hat, a change of clothes, water, and enough food and snacks. There is a chance your toddler or young child will get bored or tired, so make sure to bring them some toys or books. A blanket is also a good idea for them to rest on or use if it gets chilly.

One of the reasons I especially love outdoor summer concerts is because I do not bring the Monkey to indoor shows. In fact, I advise against bringing infants, toddlers, and very young children to indoor shows and concerts (unless they are specifically geared towards children). If the show is a sit-down concert, it will be difficult to keep a child seated and quiet for an entire show. If the music is standing only, it will often be too crowded and overwhelming. The acoustics are much louder indoors and there is also usually smoke in the air. Although you’ll find that at most shows, it’s easier to steer clear of smoke when you’re outdoors.

As fun as outdoor shows can be for the family, just make sure to keep checking in with your kids during the show. If they’re bored, cranky, or simply not into the show, don’t force it. Maybe they’re not comfortable or simply don’t enjoy the music. I’ve had to leave a few shows early or decided against bringing the Monkey to particular concerts.  That’s just a part of parenting and it’s why we have babysitters on speed dial.

When there is an upcoming outdoor show in your area that seems like a fun event for your child, don’t pass up the opportunity. Your infant and toddler probably won’t remember the actual experience, but the impressionable mark of live music will forever be etched into their mind and soul.

Have any live music experiences with children you want to share – good, bad or otherwise? I would also love from those who have concert recommendations, especially for toddlers.

perfect Sunday breakfast (click to enlarge)

According to Ben Franklin, “Beer is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy.”  Much as I’d like to believe that, I find bacon more reliable proof of divine benevolence.  Combined with the some good ingredients, patience, TLC, and the right soundtrack, that cured pork treat serves as the foundation of a perfect Sunday morning frittata. (More pics after the jump.)

The Setup

Put the White Album on the hi-fi, turn your oven to 350F, power up your espresso machine, park the little one(s) in front of a blank notebook and crayons, and begin prep.

The Ingredients

• 4 slices of thick bacon, diced
• 1 onion, small dice
• 4 small zucchinis, sliced into 1/8”-1/4” rounds (use the slicing disc on your food processor or a Japanese mandoline)
• a handful of freshly-grated parmigiano-reggiano
• 8 organic brown eggs (six plus two egg whites)
• lemon pepper
• chili powder
• tbsp of freshly-minced garlic
• fresh-brewed double-shot Americano

Cooking

After prepping the  ingredients, place a large oven-safe Teflon fry pan — egg dishes being one of the few acceptable excuses to use Teflon — on your stovetop at medium heat.  Add the bacon.  The goal here is to render the fat from the bacon without cooking the meat too quickly (or, worse, burning it).  So, keep the heat moderate and use the slow rendering process as a chance to enjoy that Americano.  By now, Clapton is wailing on While My Guitar Gently Weeps, you’re caffeinated, and the house smells like bacon.  Life’s good.

Once the bacon has melted and there’s a healthy (“healthy” here a synonym for “sufficient”) layer of fat in the pan, slowly add the onions.  Remember what you learned in elementary school: Oil and water don’t mix.  And here you’ve got very hot bacon fat (oil) and onions (basically, water).  You don’t want splattering.

Toss the bacon bits, onions, and liquid pig candy every couple minutes to ensure that everything cooks evenly.  Once the onions start to caramelize, add the zucchini slices.  Same warning as before: Zucchinis are basically all water, too.  If you add them too quickly or too early, you’ll risk splattering, will overcrowd the pan, and will end up with soggy vegetables.

While everything slowly sizzles and you ponder Rocky Raccoon’s plight, crack the eggs into a mixing bowl.  Pour in the cheese (yes, into the liquid eggs) and season with chili powder and lemon pepper.  Grab a fork and whisk well.

Once the zucchini has shrunk to about half its volume and the onions are golden brown, add the garlic.  Sauté for a minute, then pour in the egg mixture.

I’ve never been a fan of frittatas cooked well on the outside, but soft on the inside.  So, even though you ultimately will finish the frittata in the oven, I suggest first par-cooking the eggs on the stove.  The best consistency seems to come from quickly folding the outside edges of the eggs into the middle as they start to firm up in the pan.  Repeat a few times until the mixture resembles half-cooked scrambled eggs throughout.  Place the pan in the oven for approximately 20 minutes.

One of the best parts about meals that finish in the oven is the ability to do most of your cleaning before you eat.  Take a few minutes to wash and dry everything while the frittata cooks to perfection.  You’ll enjoy breakfast that much more knowing that the kitchen is already clean.

Once the top (soon to be the bottom) of the frittata has browned, remove the pan from the oven.  Don’t forget that the metal handle on the pan is now 350 degrees.  Use a good silicone potholder to move the pan to your countertop and leave a rag or potholder on the handle to remind you that the handle is hot.  (This is a mnemonic to remind our brains, typically accustomed to seeing fry pans on stovetops with cool handles, to be careful.  I’ve made the mistake of grabbing them before; it ruins your week.)

Now it’s time to flip over the frittata.  Place a cutting board on top of your pan, and then quickly (but carefully) turn both over.  There’s enough bacon fat that the frittata should slide out easily.

Slice into 6 or 8 pieces like a pizza and serve with a second Americano (you’ve earned it), a slice of whole-grain wheat toast, and the Sunday paper.  Easy like Sunday morning.

Bon Appétit!