Author Archives: Peter

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Mr. Steal Yo’ Fries

  
Having a kid finally paid off… Went to dinner tonight with the family.  Nice establishment.  Market Place in Woodbury.  “From farm to table.”  

Ordered myself a gargantuan ribeye… garlic mashed and some string beans. Amazing.  But what kind of guy orders fries to go along with that??  No one does… So you just sit there and wish you had some fries to go with your juicy steak. Eyeing everyone around the restaurant who did order fries.  

What is a guy to do?  Umm… Hello… Order your son something from the kids menu.  Everything on the kids menu comes with fries.  Spaghetti and meatballs… Comes with fries, chicken noodle soup… Side of fries.  Jax loved his cheeseburger and four French fries… Dad enjoyed the rest!

Nothing better than eating french fries that you didnt even order. Makes you feel less unhealthy.

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The Toy of Choice

  

Can someone explain to me why this child has thousands of dollars worth of toys?   
 
What was the point of everyone bringing these amazing gifts water tables and sandboxes and trains and wagons for his birthday. Does anyone really think he needs an original Radio Flyer? Or two kiddie laptops?
Every time somebody comes to visit their bringing this kid something new I’m surprised he doesn’t have a selfie stick yet. It’s not that we don’t appreciate the gifts for him and it’s not that he doesn’t like them for at least the first 15 seconds that they’re being opened… But realistically this kid is old school…

Doesn’t need any newfangled toys doesn’t need anything that lights up or uses batteries. There’s no reason for Fisher-Price or baby Einstein to even market anything for our son. He’s not high maintenance, you know?  

How do I know this… Because our house looks like a Toys-R-Us outlet store and all he wants to play with is a bunch of Tupperware.    

   

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The Only Thing we Have to Fear is Fear Itself- (Not True)

There was this feeling of dread, like one of those deep pits in your stomach as you take your first few steps into a haunted house. Even if it’s only for a second, its still there. That feeling like you know something is might go wrong, but you just can’t figure out what it is. 
Only I new what was wrong… I knew exactly why I felt that way. I knew I hated the idea and yet knew it was in his best interest. Even still, walking though the door and having to be buzzed in, put me on the other side of the fear that goes through every parent’s mind as they leave their child in the care of someone else. 

My mind slowly began to shift from dad mode to administrative mode… The words flowed from my lips like water from a hose… “What is your security procedure for entering the building?” “Do you practice fire drills and lock down drills.” How often do you check that your doors are locked?” “Are your staff members trained in CPR/First Aid?”  

A reassuring look from the wife told me I needed to take a deep breath and listen to what the woman had to say. Problem is, I didn’t care what she had to say. I could find fault with Mother Theresa if she was sitting across from me explaining how she would care for my child.  

I wasn’t happy with the “curriculum” (he’s one), I didn’t like knowing he had to nap later than he usual does (kids at my school learn to do it without any problem), I was completely enraged when I saw the back door wide open (mistakes happen and become a learning experience). Again, I wasn’t happy because I don’t think I wanted to be happy.  

You’ve heard the horror stories… Kids getting fed mass quantities of NyQuil to shut them up, people picking up the wrong kids, kids being abused… Hell I work in a school named after a student who was tragically killed at Sandy Hook Elementary School. I know the dangers, I work tirelessly everyday to ensure the safety of the children in my building as if they were my own. 

Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe I know too much; I’ve seen too much on my end to allow myself to relax. Then again, I don’t want to think I’ve left any stone unturned when it comes to Jackson.  

Im an educator of young children; I have been my entire life. I have convinced numerous parents the benefits of early childhood education, if not for the academics than simply for the social skills and language development that is gained from being surrounded by peers. I have studied research on the brain and philosophies of how young children learn. I can rattle off the increased background knowledge and character development that students gain from structured social interactions away from their parents. I’ve seen first hand parents who are were just like me before the school year started and convinced them we would take care of their most precious possession in the world. 

Yet still…

That feeling of dread that permeated throughout my entire body that day, only increases as the we creep closer to the possibility of leaving Jackson at a daycare facility. (Even just typing that caused a knot in my stomach). It could be for 1/2 a day once a week… I’m still not sure I’m going to be OK with this. 

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Of Slides and Swings (and Sprinklers)

Someone screwed up royally.  There was never any mention before today about a splash pad. Where in the parent handbook was this Field of Dreams described? How did I miss this?

Let me set the stage:

1. Exhausted baby who wont nap

2. Dogs wont stop barking

3. Three cups of coffee deep

4. Every toy blown through

Nothing left to do… no where else to go… I was in deep trouble. I was sweating in places that shouldn’t sweat on your day off.

Then… The amazing idea of heading to the park for a brief and hopefully calming ride on the swings.  Laughter drowned away the screams and tears and filled the air with the sweet sound of giggles that only a park swing can create.

But there is only so much swing time one 14 month old can endure before its time to move on, and we hit that stage pretty quickly.

Panic set in, I could feel the wood chips closing in around me… There was no where to go… Nothing else around to entertain this little beast who was slowly beginning to dislike his dad.

I began to think about driving to another park… You know switch things up. Try some new scenery. Problem is the other parks we’ve tried out are scary.  I know that sounds asinine but the last one I went to  was a death trap.  It was pretty much the Hunger Games. Children running around with sticks in their hands doing whatever the hell they want. Like I’m talking The Wildwest… And there is no Wyatt Earp to keep the Cowboys in line.  Borderline scary.

I mean don’t get me wrong, I used to play at Old Parloa Park in downtown Bethel. The double headed Dragon Slide, the silver beast from hell as it was so often (never) called.  Every time you climbed to the top of that thing you were taking your own life into your hands.  You never knew when got to the top of that slide down might be your last.  And if you were lucky enough to make it all the way down, you still had to deal with the third degree burns from the sizzling hot aluminum that had been baking in the sun all day. It was an adventure every time, perfect for the thrill seekers of B-Town because that old ass slide was about two bolts shy of having no bolts at all.

 

Dramatisation of the old Parloa slide. RIP

Clearly we were out of options… That is until the heavens opened up and that giant slab of circular concrete, that I assumed was used for Medieval jousting matches, turned into a water miracle. I can not even explain to you how quickly Jackson did a completely 180 when he heard the water smack down on the blacktop (PS why is the splash pad base concrete?  Seems a little dangerous, no? Then again better than the rusty merry-go-round that claimed the finger of at least three children a year at Parloa).

The water was cold and more importantly clean and kept Jax busy for hours (20 minutes). He looked like Barry Sanders escaping from defenders as he went from water spout to water spout with the biggest smile on his face.


When he was worn out we headed home… And when we got home he napped for two hours.


  
 Dad 1 – Jax 3,467

Thank you splash pad… Thank you from the bottom of my exhausted heart.

  
  

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Five Fingers are Better Than Four

  
I know I keep harping on this fireworks thing.  I know I described my feelings on fireworks before.  But, let me be clear: I have no real issue with firecrackers or bottle rockets.  As a kid it was part of your initiation with the neighborhood kids. Those are pretty awesome when you’re eight*. 

I can live with out the large firework displays that require 14 people to light them off.  Maybe it’s because I’m not actually lighting them off?  Maybe that’s why I prefer your run of the mill ladyfingers to the mortar shells you see from outer space.  (Did we just have a therapy-breakthrough?). Interesting!

Anyway… Tonight’s post has seemed to get away from me… Point was going to be that the fireworks were more about sitting around with family.  Not having to do anything but relax and enjoy each other’s company!

    

*PS: you would think that if an eight year old has the sense to be careful around fireworks than a grown man (who makes enough money to pay 500 people to light off fireworks for him) would have enough sense to not blow off their own hand lighting fireworks off. 

Way to go JPP

 

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Best Friends (Especially Now) 

WARNING: NSFL (Not Safe for Life)

This is exactly why I started this blog… In order help myself deal with these exact situations… Putting these things in writing and knowing others are reading about them helps me deal with the fact that I continue to fail as a parent… Maybe even as a human being.

Last Warning: Vomit Inducing

  

Yup… He finally did it… Buster ate an entire poo patty.  Not pieces of the diaper or got a little lick of crap… He ate a hockey puck sizes patty of poo.  Just pulled it off the changing table and cleared his plate. I probably could have reused the diaper it was so clean.  

I have seen a lot over nasty stuff since this little dude was born… I smelled some things that should have burned my nostrils, but this was the first time I actually hurled.  I literally can not fathom how a piece of shit tastes appealing.  

The thought of Buster trying to give me a kiss makes me throw up in my mouth.  Although I may have forgotten to tell Steph and I promise I only laughed for a few seconds when buster licked her cheek. 

i guess eating poop brings you closer together?

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Hollywood D-Lister

Click here for the original story from ABC6

  

 ABC 6 NEWS Featured Story:

Wednesday, July 08, 2015 05:41PM

Fatherhood can be a hilarious, nerve-wracking, heart-warming, eye-opening journey for new dads.

That’s why a Connecticut father, Peter Fragola, decided to start documenting all the funny things he’s learning along the way.

Using the name, Carmine, Peter started a daddy blog titled: ‘Sorry Son: Chronicles of a New Dad.’

One of our favorite entries involved Peter’s idea to get a feel for the nervousness, excitement, and determination it takes for his 13-month-old, Jackson, to learn to walk…. by learning to walk on stilts.

At first, it seemed like Peter had it down as he took slow, wobbly steps with a little help from a friend.

But that was soon followed up with a little reality check.

Watch what happened when he got too confident and decided to let go of his friend’s hands

Not as easy as it looks!

Luckily, Peter says his little boy has a better sense of balance than his father as he learns to maneuver through the world.

And now his dad has a better sense of the pain of learning to walk again.

You can check out more of Peter’s musings on the world of fatherhood by clicking on the link below:

https://newdadchronicles.wordpress.com/

The last 24 hours have been a whirlwind (I’ve always wanted to call something a whirlwing, it sounds very Casablanca… very Sleepless in Seattle). A few tweets, a few emails and a phone call and all of a sudden Chronicles of a New Dad is featured on ABC News at 4. Crazy to think how far the blog has come since that faithful day in late April 2014. From a pregnancy selfie to the nightly news!

We here at CND want to thank everyone who has read, liked, shared and commented on the blog over the past 14 months. Thanks for visiting and we hope you keep coming back to read about the events that make us laugh and cry day after day.


  

Almost 500 Views since the news story

 

 

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‘Murica


Another year, another 4th of July come and gone.  Anytime I get to spend a long weekend with the family is a weekend well spent.  Anytime I get to spend a long weekend with the family and get to eat food that I didn’t have to prepare and enjoy other people’s backyards that I didn’t have to set up or clean afterwards is a weekend worth its weight in gold.

Thanks to Betty and Tony for having us on Saturday!

Those of you who know me, know I am a Revolutionary War Era nut.  I love the holiday… but mostly for its history and less for the stupid traidtions of fireworks and hotdogs.   

In my opinion fireworks are the most OVERRATED holiday tradition.  Nothing is more overrated Every SINGLE year I all I hear about is where the best fireworks are, when are they going off in certain towns so that everyone can coordinate firework watching parties.  Everyone just sits around and watches them like its some amazing feat… something they’ve never seen before… and then its over and your left wondering, “is that it?”  OVER-RATED.  I can see if you were a colonist sitting on a hill watching fireworks to celebrate the surrender of General Corwallis… then maybe I’d enjoy them… but now… in 2015… I’ll pass!

 

I will give in and admit that the Bomb Pop is what the 4th of July is really all about (food, beer and bomb pops)… I’ve recently noticed that there are at least five or six new Bomb Pop flavors… but nothing can and nothing ever will top the RED, WHITE, and BLUE Bomb Pop… it is the OG of Bomb Pops

SHOUT OUT TO THE MOST AMERICAN SONG IN THE HISTORY OF SONGS:

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Dad Chair, Son Chair

See here’s the thing, there is something about being a guy that is innately passed down from father to son.  Fixing stuff, yard word, stone building… and sitting around doing nothing on your favorite chair. 

Busy, busy day today… Man stuff… Boy stuff… Dad stuff… Son stuff… (Dr Suess style right there).  

Dad raised rock walls, son sailed ships across the narrow sea… And both ended their day with a cup of the finest mead on their own iron throne.   

   

Every guy needs his own man.