It been a tough go at it

For the past couple of days I have been alone with the ladies while Keri was away galavanting.  Well not really galavanting, she WAS working.  Working in Newport, RI.  I'm sure she was hard at work.  (Really, she works her tail off.)  I have come accustomed to the single parent life, but only for a couple of days at a clip.  This stretch was particularly hard.

Some time ago, a near and dear friend was diagnosed with cancer.  A rather large tumor was removed and we all thought that was it.  Not so much.  Either they didn't get it all, or it came back, but it was back with a vengeance.  He was given the necessary treatments, but alas the disease was too big for one man to handle.  There was a benefit for him not too long ago and he didn't look particularly well.  I thought to myself that he had a few weeks, tops, until the end.  I came to grips with the fact that I would lose my friend, or at least I thought I did.  He toughed it out for about a month to the day.  When a friend told me of his passing, I was saddened.  I began to remember of our times together, the funny jokes, sometimes if not most of the time, off color to most, but always funny.  The next day it really hit me and hit me hard.  As I read through Facebook post after Facebook post on how he touched so many people, had been integral parts of so many people's lives, it was very had to keep my composure.  As I read story after story, I fought back tears.  It finally set in that I would never see him again, never be graced with that British humor that I took for granted.  I was grieving.  Something I don't think I have ever done.  I had lost people in my life before; my mom's mother and dad's father when I was fourteen, a great aunt a few years later, a kid I knew in high school, and so on.  But none of these people touched me in a way that my friend did.  It sounds bad to say, that a friend, not even a friend I hung out with all that often, touched me more than my grandmother or grandfather, but something about our friendship stuck with me.  

We were friends of friends in high school.  We ran in parallel crowds, occasionally intermingling.  It wasn't until driver's education until we connected.  And that is where our friendship really started.  He was in our band for a while and after that didn't work out, for whatever reason, he subbed when we needed him.  And he enjoyed it.  We enjoyed it.  We were running in parallel groups again.

We would ride to and from gigs occasionally.  On one of these trips, we somehow struck up a conversation about old school metal (i.e. Judas Priest and Iron Maiden) and how it would be cool do start a cover ban doing only this genre.  We laughed about all the cool costumes we'd have to wear.  While this project never got off the ground, it makes me think of him every time I hear a song by one of those artists. So I spend yesterday playing Maiden and Priest, non-stop, on Spotify as I read through his friends wishing him well.

Then today rolls around.  I woke up feeling calmed, almost knowing I was close to the end of processing The End.  Somehow I found my was to his Facebook page.  Oh, boy.  Here we go agin.  I guess I am still in the process, which is good.

I do not know why this is hitting me as hard as it is.  Is it because it's the first "friend" to go onto bigger and better things?  Is it because tomorrow is my birthday and I am getting older.  Did I just realize that he was about a year and a half older than I?  Is it the fact that I have become a wuss since I've become a father?  All I know is that the wake and funeral will be hard.  Hard on me, my friends, his family, and everyone that he came in contact with.  He was that powerful of a soul.  I always say everything happens for a reason.  This anecdote usually is enough for me.  Not this time.  This time we all knew what was happening.  Maybe I didn't realize the severity of the situation.  Maybe I was too caught up in my own bullshit to see what was happening.  But I honestly believe he was taken away to do a higher work.  Even it that higher work was to show us all we are imortal, that may be all.  But there was a reason.

Cancer sucks.  I miss my friend.  Hug your loved ones.  Cherish every moment you have with the ones you love.  Memories don't die.  Paul Peter Butcher will live on as long as we keep our memores of him alive.

I miss you Paul.




 

The Fens

I had this bright idea to take the girls to Fenway Park for the open house.  After much self debating, I decided to enlist some backup for the trip, my mother.  And thank goodness I did.  I would have been out of my mind going at it alone.  She was a big help.  I couldn't have done it without her.  Or anyone for that matter.  What was I thinking attempting a trip like that, two toddlers and one adult?

For those of you who don't know what in the world I am talking about, Fenway Park is where the Boston Red Sox play baseball.  I am and have been a fan of the aforementioned Red Sox for many years, if not all my life.  My first trip to the beloved and historic park was last year for my first game.  I am hoping I can make sure my ladies do not go without seeing and experiencing this national landmark.   I was hoping they would get to do something that I had never had the chance to do as a child.  And now they have.

We got to tour the park, walk the warning track, peer into the Monster's manual scoreboard, one of the last, if not thee last in the majors, and walk around the park at our leisure.  It was a terrific day.  The weather was phenomenal, the behavior was stellar, and I couldn't be more proud to show my children a place that holds a special place in the fabric of my life (albeit mostly in from afar, but it is still deeply rooted in my life).  I am not sure who had more fun today touring the park, feeling the dirt, sitting on the dougout, doing special things in a park that is 100 years old that will stay with me, and hopefully my girls, for a long time.  I did get a feeling come over me when we walked in and we all looked out over the grandstands to the outfield.  It was a feeling of pride; proud to expose my girls to a national treasure that is Fenway Park, the home of the Boston Red Sox.  Honestly, I did get a tiny bit choked up.  I think it was sharing something so special to me with my daughters.  Or was it the fact that I go to bring them to the home of the Red Sox before the Yankee fans got to brainwash them and lure them to the Darkside?  Either way, I hope it stays with them. I hope they will never forget the time their father took them to the Fens.  Lets hope they return the gesture and become members of the Red Sox Nation for life, at least to make their old man happy.

I promise to be better.....

So, again, it has been some time since I last instilled upon my loyal readers the trials and tribulations of my kids and my life happenings.  I will do my best to do better, write more often, and not slack off so much.  Do I notice a theme happening?  Nahhh.  Its just that we've been busy.  Yea.  That's it.  Honestly.  I haven't been that lazy.  The kids really have been working me to the bone, and some days my last nerve too.  The following will get up to speed, and it may or may not be in chronicle order; my memory isn't that good anymore.

In the file: Cali is darn near indestructible, we had a Stay At Home parent play date at the Jump Zone.  For all of you that are unfamiliar with this beacon of light to children, it is a warehouse that has been converted and filled with the inflatable bounce houses and activity centers usually reserved for carnivals and birthday parties.  Kids love it.  I repeat, kids LOVE it.  And from what I can gather, parents like it too.  No, we parents don't jump and bounce like we once did in grade school, this place seems to knock our kids right out after a few hours of rambunctious jumping and running.  (My hat's off to the genius who thought of this concept.  One of these days, I will think of something that cool.)

Getting back to indestructible Cali, she walked square into a wall, looked up at my friend only to acknowledge that it indeed happend, rubbed her head and continued on her merry way.  It sounds much less traumatic in writing, but upon closer inspection I found a bruise from her forehead to her cheekbone.  And she was no worse for ware.  Tough cookie!

Easter - Kids, candy, family, candy, adults and candy, etc.  My teeth still hurt.

Bayly had her first real sleep over.  Well, kinda.  It was her cousins, but they did sleep over and the plan was for them to sleep in the same room.  I say plan because my daughter is four and a half and four and a half year olds don't quiet get the concept.  They did what I assume all little girls do on sleepovers; stay up late, chit-chatting about Justin Bieber, playing dolls or whatever kids do these days.  I had heard som noises coming from where the girls were supposed to be sleeping; didn't think much of it.  Just kids being kids.  But when 11:00 rolls around and one comes down to say there are tears flowing, an investigation needs to be commenced.  11:00 is late for a four and a half year old to be up, not to mention her 9 and 7 (maybe upper 6, I really can't remember) year old cousin's to be up as well.  So tears do not surprise me at the least.  It boils down to someone looked at someone wrong, may or may not have said some rude words, and the world stopped spinning in turn causing all life come to a screeching halt.  All said and done, the sleepover turned into a mommy, daddy, and Bayly sleepover in mommy and daddy's bed.  Yea, her first sleepover went pretty well.

There was something in the air today.  Perhaps because it is Friday the 13th.  Ooooooohhh.  Scary, I know.  Anyway, Cali just didn't want to nap.  She was quiet for the duration of laundry folding, at which any sane parent would think she was asleep.  Not so much.  I go see why my little angel is crying to find out she bonked her head on the crib.  "Ok.  You're fine.  You'll live."  Come back ten or fifteen minutes later to find her stark naked, pants and pull-up on the floor saying "Potty!"
"Do you have to go potty?"
"Yea."
Noticing a small wet spot on the mattress, "Did you go already?"
"Yea."
So I put her on the potty, and change the sheet and mattress protector.  I hear her tinkle more, inside I am happy.  "Yea!  Pee Pee on the potty!"  Outside I am very perturbed.  "You couldn't hold it for 5 seconds?"  I get things changed, Cali back in bed with a quarter of the animal/playthings that she needs to sleep with, and head back on my way.  Another ten or fifteen go buy and more crying.  This time she has thrown something out of her crib that she now cannot live without.  This scenario plays out a couple of more times, until I finally buck up and ignore her and she lulls herself to sleep with the soothing sounds of whimpering.  Great, she's now asleep.  I only have to wake her up in an hour to go pick up her sister.  She should be in a spectacular mood for the evening.  Normally she will be in the clutches of the sleepy time fairy for a couple of hours.  Just one hour should be CrapTastic!  She proved me wrong.  She wasn't perfect, but she was cordial and moderately behaved.  Who knew?  Not this guy!

For the past few days, I have been getting back into my old drummer mindset; listening to drummer supergroups, checking out some of my favorite drummers on YouTube, feeling totally inadequate as a drummer.  The kids also have been enjoying a good clinic video every once in a while.  The CD's bring me back to college and back to those inadequacies I had back in those days.  Its nice to see somethings never change.  Its nice to see them take an interest, albiet a tiny one, in something that I enjoy.  It only lasts a few moments, but it's there.  Lets hope they will keep their old man proud and continue to let him think they really want to do things he wants to do.  (I know they won't and probably don't now, but I can dream).

Tis the eve of Easter.  That's the day of the living dead, for all of you non Christians out there.  Its also the day where children fall asleep dreaming about the basket of confections and possibly some sort of toy or other "There is a holiday here and I will give you this for the occasion" gift that some lovable rodent is supposed to hide in their houses (at least that's the way I was taught). And why the bunny?  Jesus wasn't tied to the mammal that, when put in a room with an opposite sex of the same mammal, would procreate faster than Superman flies through the air.  (Total speculation)

As I was shopping for the elusive Cadbury Mini Egg today, (Late, I know) I overheard someone say something about Valentine's Day is just like Christmas.  That got me thinking.  We do live in the most Capitalistic nation, where anyway to make a buck is the norm.  Its just like how the Christmas decorations come out right after Halloween, or even earlier, and our calendar is based on the sales at Target or that other bass-akward box store.  So I blame Halmark for the commercialization of Easter, Valentine's Day, Flag Day, and any other random holiday that occurs.  But without President's Day the auto manufacturers would go bankrupt.  So I guess it's not totally Halmark's fault.  Its all for the children.  Its for the children to tell their parents that they want that toy, that candy bar, that ball of lint, that they saw on TV.

Does that mean it's the fault of the box with moving pictures?  After all, television needs advertising to survive.  And advertising needs kids to watch and then go nag their parents (which mine don't do...yet) for the aforementioned toy/candy bar/lint, so the cycle can continue.  I guess its just the perk of living in a capitalist nation, where we will overblow a religious holiday and replace the true meaning with some fictional character with super human (or super bunny, in this case) powers, to make a buck.  I'm not complaining.  Just venting.  When all is said and done, we have to teach our children the real meaning of the holidays; why a holiday is a holiday, aside from the day off of school/work and no mail.  So teach your children well.  If you are unsure on the details, do what I do; make it up.  It can't be that far off of what is already thought of the masses.

Happy Easter.

Ramble on, and on, and on

Again, it has been some time since my last post.  I apologize to ally of my loyal readers.  I get busy with the kids; they tire me right out.  And some days I just don't feel I have anything witty to say.  Plenty happened today and hopefully I can translate it into something enjoyable to read.  I will try.

Today started like any other day.  Wake up, make breakfast for myself and the kiddies, make Bayly's lunch, and ship off to school.  On the way, I noticed the car pulling to the left.  I just shrugged it off to badly worn tires and a much needed alignment, all of which are in the cards for the near future.  Drop off goes well, like most mornings.  But you would have never known it was going to.  Some mornings the girls push, and push hard.  If I'm lucky, it will be only one.  If I'm really lucky, they both will be in the pushing mood.  Luckily it was only one today, but she wasn't into a full on pushing match.  Just the normal four and a half year old pushing.  But I am getting off topic a little....

While I was leaving my child in the very capable hands of daycare, I was informed by another parent that the truck over there has a flat tire.  Oh, that truck?  You mean, My truck?  Sweet.  I go check out the severity of the flat to see if I can limp home on the hopefully not-so round rubber thing.  No so much.  As I gather my thoughts to try to remember where my jack, tools, and spare are located, I realize that both car seats have to come out; more of an inconvenience but still annoying.  I locate all the necessary tools and start on the task of changing a tire.  I have no problem with changing or even rotating tires, I just prefer to do it in my driveway and not in the parking lot of the daycare.  The good samaritan who clued me into the fact that one of my tires was no longer in the business of holding air, was good enough to help.  He is a friend, but I think he would have helped a complete stranger if he was put into that situation.  No random act of kindness for this fellow; just acts of kindness.  (Sorry, rambling and off topic again.  I will try to not let it happen again.)

Tire gets changed, pack up the other child to go home and find my new and improved round rubber rings.  I find that I can get them for less through one of those dot com's and I can save on the shipping if I go pick them up.  A perfect way to spend the afternoon.

As promised, I will not ramble on off topic and will cut to the chase.  The kids, the young one usually has no problem falling asleep in the car, do not sleep for more than a quarter of the trip, ONE WAY.  This translates to a cranky, ornery two year old.  I can deal with that, she'll have to go to bed a little earlier.  It would have been better if she ate any of the potato leek soup I made for dinner, but that was just asking for too much.  I thought I did a good job on the soup, but both kids didn't buy my culinary skills.  Oh well.  What do they know?  At least they got something to eat. And dessert.  Without eating all of their dinner.

Kids these days have it so easy.  

Indian Winter

Its been so long since I have blogged, I figured I would do two tonight to make up for lost time.  (this is the second)

The other day, Cali and I were playing with her shape sorter.  I was trying to teach her shapes and colors. It reminded me of the time when Bayly and I did the same thing.  Its funny how they get fixated on certain shapes.  And its not easy shapes; not square, circle or rectangle.  Bayly's favorite shapes were diamond and oval.  It is seeming like Cali's favorite if a crescent, with the triangle gaining ground.  Shapes?  Sure my kids know shapes.  And not just your everyday, borring shapes.  They know cool shapes.  Crescent?  Check.  Semi-circle?  Check.  Square?  Not so much.  Circle?  I'll get back to you.  (Totally just joke.  She's got a few of these.)

When I talked about getting serious about teaching Cali the shapes, Bayly turned to me and told me not to teach her the tough ones yet.  "Ya know, like rectangle prism and cone."  I don't even think I could tell you what a rectangle prism is.  I knew it at one time, but that time was many moons ago.  Needless to say, Cali is still working on the basic shapes.  Someday soon we will branch out into the weird land of shapes like rhombus', cubes, and parallelograms.

Living in New Enland, we are never surprised about the weather.  "If you don't like the weather, wait five minutes."  Now it seems we are in an Indian Winter.  (Very similar to an Indian Summer, just its winter's repeat performance)  While there was minimal snow this year, and gratefully so after the endless dumpings of the white stuff that we got, the sky is forecasted to drop some of the white stuff on us this evening.  This after the week of 70 degree days, my tulips and daffodils came up, and started my seeds (in pots) for my garden.  Now I can barely have them outside to sunbathe; its too damn cold.  And don't get me started on golf.  I played 18 holes at Torrey Pines last night.  Yup.  The weather got us golf types all hyped up for the season.  Now we are relegated to playing a simulated course in an old grocery store.  I did shoot a 112.  I'm not sure I should print that.  Its a pretty bad score.  It was a tough course, simulated or not.  That's my story!

The winning ticket

Like so many others living in the 42 states that take part in Mega Millions, I have the winning ticket.  Sorry to all the others out there who think they have it; I got it.  And like all of the other Kagillion people out the hoping and praying that the little piece of paper their friendly connivence store clerk gave them, my wife and I were fantasizing about what we would spend roughly three hundred something million dollars on (if you took the lump sum and after taxes, according to the news).  Pay off some things, buy some things, do anything I want.  I will be sure to let you know after I win and the endless line of wheel barrels stops transporting loads of cash to my house.  

Good luck to everyone with Mega Millions Fever.  I hope you win.  More importantly, I hope I win.

Influx of..........Play dates

We had a play date set up for today.  Us and two other Stay At Home's or Semi Stay At Home's.  Well one of the families in today's play date had to back out.  Something about kids coughing all night, coughing himself to throw up, and not wanting to spread germs.  Its  better that they didn't come.  I couldn't handle any sick kids with this weather.  The other mother and two kids did attend.  All kids played well together.  Cali did her best to try to keep up to the older ones, mimicking, copying, and even butting into their imaginary world.  Bravo, little one.  Way to get involved.  All in all, it was a good idea for the kids.  They ran around, played while the parents chatted about this and that, and even had a great PB&J lunch.

After my house was put back together from the play date, we relaxed and got ready for the art show at daycare.  They seem to do this a couple times a year and its great.  You see that they actually do something at school other than play, trace letters or numbers, and identify patterns.  Every level, every age of child did a wonderful job.  Even my child was highlighted, even though she only goes three half days a week.  While we were there, we found our way to the other parents that are in our little circle of friends that share the same daycare.  Its kind of like a little click within the daycare.  I am sure we aren't the only ones with our own little click.  I remember at Bayly's birthday, the other parents from daycare were very chummy chummy with each other.  Who cares?! Let em.  We are much cooler anyway.  (While I am sure this is the case, I am not closely familiar with any of these other parents and cannot confirm nor deny this.  I am sure they are cooler than a cucumber, I have no first hand knowledge.)  After talking over snacks and cookies, we decide that the kids need to the park to run off the day's energy; mostly burn off those cookies the kids devoured.  A popular park is picked and we decide to make it a pot luck dinner at the playground.  This particular park is set up with picnic tables and an eating area; we have had lunch there many times.  The weird part was being a parent, walking in with a Crock Pot full of chicken cacciatore.  Who brings a Crock Pot to the park?  Then the next family rolls up with a pizza.  Now we're taking.  Then the next comes with hummus, bread and chip-like snacks.  All perfectly normal for an evening at the park.  But who brings a crock pot insert with chicken cacciatore to the park?  Classy people, that's who.  The kind of classy people that spell classy with a "K."  That's us.  We all ate, played and enjoyed the great weather.  And it was good, if I must say so myself.  And we fought off those dirty looks from all the other parents who came to the park without so much as a snack half as good as our dinner.  Jealousy is for the weak.  (Yea right!  Whatever.)

Then we got home, bathed, and did bedtime without incident.  That hasn't happened in a very long time.  I am going to chalk it up to the vigorous playing that they did.  Either that or they finally are getting that their parents have things to do after they go to sleep.  I think I'm going to stick with the my first assumption.  But stranger things have happened.  Only tomorrow will tell.  What do you think?  That's what I thought.  It was the playing!

The tulips! The tulips! The tulips are coming!

So its been some time since I have blogged.  I know, I know.  I am a horrible blogger.  In my defense, the weather is getting warmer and the outdoors are calling.  My bulbs are coming up and the heat if off.  Give me a break, ok?!

Now that spring has made an early entrance, me and the little ones are spending time playing outside and breathing in the wonderful warm, fresh air.  Some yard work is getting done.  Some seeds have been started in pots.  Some birds have even braved our bird feeders for a quick bite.  All of this late spring like weather got us thinking:  Lets get the kids fed, washed/bathed, and lets take em for a walk so they will be tired when we get back.  Great idea!  Day 1 goes rather well.  They eat.  They wash/get washed.  They RUN for a mile or so each.  We get back.  Brush teeth/wash up again/medicines, etc.  Get to bed and they are wired.  Bayly has been tough to get to sleep lately.  Mostly missing her mommy, but partly because she's four and wants to see how far she can go with it.  Cali was bouncing off her crib like a kid with ADHD on speed.  We try to get her down; she'd go down, only to be up again in 10 minutes.  Turns out she comes down at 11:00 in her mother's arms asking for a pear.  With her cherished fruit she plops down beside me on the couch with the intention of becoming totally engrossed in Mad Men.  As I look over at her to make sure she is still breathing and hasn't lodged a giant piece, or the whole pear, in her mouth, she turns to me and pulls on muy cheeks and says, "Tickle Tickle."  How can you not love that.  A few minutes pass and I sneak another couple of looks.  She was totally engrossed in the drama of 60's advertising men and their shenanigans.   My wife said she was a spitting image of me, staring intently at the television, immersed in the plot.  I'm not recommending you go out and start your toddlers on Mad Men or any other intense drama, or even any mindless nonsense that may be beamed onto your television by the government so they can read your thoughts and make you buy COKE or drink Ogalvie.  What I am saying is its ok to let the kids stay up a little late once in a while.  11:30?  A little late?  Minor details.  But she did sleep till 9:15 the next morning.  Come to think of it, bedtimes the past few days have been tough.  It might be time to start shrinking her nap time.  Who the hell am I kidding?  I need those two hours in the middle of the day for my sanity.  And to fold laundry.  But mostly for my sanity.

I think the next time we do a walk trip at night, we might try walk first, then dinner and cleaning and etc.  Its worth a shot.  What's the worst think that could happen?   She could be up till 1:30!

A short one

I have been lacking on this blog.  My bad.

The kids have been as good as can be expected.  We are learning each other.  What they can get away with and what punishment(s) will work; it changes daily.  Mostly I think they are finding new ways to push the boundaries.  And my buttons.  Par for the course.  The weather is getting nice out and we are finding playing outside a Godsend.  Exercise and fresh air.  The only drawback is the house work is falling behind because we are all having so much fun outdoors.  Oh well.  That's what rainy days are for.  I guess I just have to find a way to juggle the outdoors and the indoors.  Life is so complicated.

Trifecta? Impossible.

Its been a long two days since the last blog entry.  I feel like I am letting down my loyal readers (if there are any out there.  Perhaps in Europe or Australia).  Yesterday I went to get Cali up from her nap and I was surprised to find she had poo'ed her diaper, stuck her hand in it, and proceeded to wipe it on the rail of the crib.  How psyched was I?  So I calmly tell her that it was gross and that is something we do not do and it is yucky.  I clean her up.  Disinfect said rail; somehow she didn't get feces anywhere else, and we go about our day.   Both girls found it necessary not to listen to a word I said for the rest of the day and wen to bed at 7 without incident.   They must have known they messed up.  God knows I didn't hide the fact that I was to be listened to.

Today rolls around.  I was not looking forward to an encore of yesterday.  It can't happen two days in a row.  It was just a freak occurrence.  The kids seem to be total angels apart from their sibling counterparts.  Its when they join forces, the seas part and all listening ceses to exist.  Usually parting bodies of water waits until after nap time/relaxation time.  Today was set to be different.  Had a good morning with Cali while Bayly was at school.  Vacuumed the house, washed the floors with the best cleaner known to man; VINEGAR, picked up her sister and got two loads of laundry folded.  Bayly and I took advantage of the great weather and played outside while her sister napped, going in every so often to check if she had awaken.  Then it happened.  She woke up, again smeared poop on her crib rail, and was quite chipper when I went in.  Again, I clean up the little pooping machine, disinfect the crib, and go outside to try to burn off some energy.  About 20 minutes of cordial and polite frolicking and playing ensue.  Then, like a switch, they stop listening to anything I say.  So then it's time to put a kabash on the what seems to be blocked ears and go inside.  They were playing so well together, minds well move it inside where they can be contained.  They run off upstairs to seemingly play nicely together while I start whipping something up.  They somehow found time, in 15 minutes, to make one heck of a mess of Bayly's room.  Bayly blamed Cali.  Cali ran off to her room.  No one listens to clean it up.  Crying, screaming, tantrum-ing, and finally cleaning.  That's done.  Back to dinner.  Nothing burning, nothing cooked beyond recognition, nothing unidentifiable.  We all go down to be in the same vicinity, mostly so I can watch what trouble might ensue.  Keri comes home unnoticed while we are checking on the grill.  Finally some back-up.  Maybe a fresh face will deter this behavior.

Not so much.  The total disregard for parental orders continued.  Its nice to see it doesn't happen to just me.  Maybe, hopefully, Lord Please don't let there be an encore tomorrow.  I am supposed to take them in public tomorrow night.  At least there is something I can hold over their head if they don't behave.  But that won't be needed.  They will be the angels that they are.  It can't happen THREE days in a row, right?


 

My little girl is 2

Today there was a birthday party for my little girl.  And, Yes I knew about it.  It wasn't a total surprise to me.  'Twas a Pancake and Pajama Party.  A novel theme for a child's birthday, if you ask me.  Kids (both mine and other strays that roam the neighborhood) were well behaved.  There was the normal birthday party drama; and then there were the kids.  Just kidding.  Its late and I'm tired.

My little one is two.  My, how time files.  It seems like a month ago I was holding my wife's hand in the operating room (planned C-section) both thinking we were having a boy, when Cali burst into our life.  I guess they weren't kidding when they say time files when you have kids.  I am going to wake up and they are going to be going to school.  Really that's only a handful of months away for Bayly, but you catch the drift.  I think Ferris Beuler had a quote about that.  Google it.  I'm way to lazy right now.

Last thing....  Did you remember to set your clocks ahead?  (This last point if for my American readers.  I cannot say without reasonable doubt if my German and Russian readers follow Daylight Savings Time. )  Spring ahead.  But not too fast.  The kids are growing up fast enough.

One day I will teach these girls....

On the eve of my youngest daughter's second birthday party, I have to remind myself that my kids are good kids.  Today they have put that theory to the test.  Both kids wore me out, and not in the they ran me around town doing fun things.  They were on my last nerve since their mother left the house.  Cali was pulling Bayly's hair to the ground.  I was feeling kind of bad for Bayly.  She wasn't even fighting back.  Could it be her "lover not a fighter" mentality?  Could it be we taught her so well not to hit and fight?  Is she just a pushover?  My only thought is that we will teach her not to lay down and take that in due time; when she understands that you don't fight to fight, you fight for what you believe and for your honor.  Both things a four and a half year old can't quite grasp yet.  And I don't think her sister really needs a black eye at 2.  She may deserve it, by the hand of her older sister, but she doesn't need it.  Sisterly love!

But Bayly wasn't a saint either.  She is on this baby talk kick.  Its really annoying because she is so well spoken.  At a eight months or so, she told the daycare director that she was parched.  What eight month old uses parched in a sentence?  And correctly, for that matter.  So when she talked very baby like from school, through the grocery store and back home, I can't help but get annoyed.  And to top it off, she would not listen to save her self.  I understand when Cali doesn't listen she just doesn't know any better.  But Bayly does know better and still she does it anyway.  I guess I shouldn't expect her to be an adult.  She is only four and a half.  Yet she does act better than some of the adults I have met in my life.  A credit to my parenting?  I like to think so.

She requested me to come up and see her after her mother put her to bed this evening.  I go up to her sanctuary (yea, right.  Its a room in my house that has her clothes and that she sleeps in - no sanctuary at all) to find her being lulled to sleep by Mr. Bieber.  Being a father, I ask why she likes JB so much?  Is it his singing?  Is it the songs?  Her response: "I like the way he looks."  I have my first crush on my hands.  At least he can't break her heart too bad.  I have to wonder if she really thinks this or is it just a mimic of all the girls in the movie?  I'm going with that.  She's FOUR, for crying out loud.  I know people say that girls are growing up faster these days from all the estrogen they ingest from all the plastic in the world, but this is a little much.  I just have to keep telling myself that it is a phase and one day, it will pass.  I mean, all those girls got over the New Kids when I was younger; she will get over this.  One day, she will discover another teen heartthrob, a different genre of music, an activity that pulls at her heart strings, and even a real boy.  Lord help me when that day arrives.  By then she will know how to fight back, not get taken advantage of (at least by someone other than her younger sister), and know what she really wants.  And to this yet to be named boy, watch out.  You have got your hands full.  If you hurt her, you will have to answer to me, and her younger sister.  I'm sure she is the brute of the litter.  Lets hope she finds an activity.  She's good at dance.  Decent at soccer.  A damn fine artist.  And has the perfect personality to run for public office.  Lets focus on the activities for now.  Boys are a bad influence.  That may be the father in me talking, but lets be honest.  Activities are more fun, more work (mostly), and have a better long-range outlook.  Lets hope Cali doesn't get struck by the same crush.  Then Bayly just might fight back.

Spring is in the air

In the Northeast today it was very spring-like.  So much so we went to the park and played like animals set free to return to the wild.  The problem with this is we live in New England where if you don't like the weather, wait five minutes.  And by golly, it is looking like that is the case.  The powers that be (i.e. the always accurate weathermen and women of the secret fraternity of liars - meteorologist) are calling for up to an inch of snow tomorrow night.  What the hell, man?!  What are you gonna do?  Just be happy the kids got out and played in the fresh air for hours today.  Yes, hours.  I am betting we will all be excited when we can do this everyday.  When I was a kid, all we would do is play outside; riding our bikes, playing home run derby, rummaging through the woods searching for nothing and everything all at once. It seems these days all kids want to do is play PacMan or whatever is all the rage and watch the YouTube.  I am going to raise my kids the way I was raised; by making our own adventures with our imaginations, getting, into sticky situations, and finding ways to not tell the parents about said situations (mostly innocent fun).  Days like today make me miss my day-long bike rides around the neighborhood, finding trails in the woods, or playing street tennis.  (for clarification that is tennis in the street)  I want my girls to explore, get dirty, and have fun.  Not sit in front of a television munching on ghosts and watching some idiot put on a million t-shirts.

To change the subject for one moment, I was thinking about an expansion project.  Expanding what, you ask.  While I would love to expand our house to have a kick ass garage with a man room; this is not, will not, or can not be in the budget.  Expand the garden?  While that has to be done, it is not what I was thinking (Crap!  Now I have to do that, too).  I was thinking of expanding the family.  Now before all you loyal readers get all excited and start getting us baby stuff, I was thinking four legged and furry.  NOT a cat.  I repeat, NOT A CAT.  They are gross, lazy, and we are all allergic.  My apologies to the crazy cat people of the world, but no cats are welcome here.  I was thinking of a hypoallergenic dog; a labradoodle.  But in order to be certain it will not cause major spikes in our medical bills, we/I have to be certain it is a true labradoodle.  Which means I must go through a breeder.  Some of my friends say don't do it; Don't get a dog.  They smell.  They chew.  They are bad.  You can't go away without worrying about feeding/letting it out.  Exe cetera, exe cetera, exe cetera.  I don't know.  We always said we'd like the kids to have a dog when they are young.  And since I am home, I thought it would be a good time to have one.  I'm sure all the readers of this will tell me not to.  Fine.  You may win, but as of now it doesn't seem that bad.  It would be fun.  What can go wrong?

Four star day, My ASS!

Every day I try to read my horoscope.  Mostly for fun; if they are right 1% of the time that would be a lot.  Yesterday I was to have a two star day.  All in all it turned out pretty well.  The kids were well behaved, my house didn't blow up, and there were no fatalities (at least not my fault anyway).  Not what one would call a two star day.  So this morning, while reading my totally truthful and accurate horoscope to see I was to have a four star day, I should have known it was a steamy load.  Nevertheless, I was expecting a good day.  Why?  Because the newspaper horoscope lady said so.  As it turns out, she got her days reversed.  FedEx messed up my delivery.  Did you know dispatch has no way of contacting the driver?  UPS contacts their drivers.  I guess that's the difference between a dented package and a crushed one.  I missed him by 5 minutes.  He probably drove by my house four more times during the course of the day where he could/should have dropped it off.  Then Staples.  "The Office Superstore," no longer carries FireWire cables.  Staples!  Apparently they don't think the FireWire thing will catch on.  I guess it's too slow for the genius buyers at Staples HQ.  Oh well.  Their loss.  Then the day really starts living up to its aforementioned star rating.  Tantrums, waking sisters during nap time, refusal to clean up after the A-Bomb goes off in dress up land, more tantrum, daddy getting slugged in the kisser, no stories, no dessert, more screaming, dinner,

"I don't like couscous!"

"Have you ever had it?"

"No."

Exactly.  Now I sit here and blog away, trying to decompress from the awesome telekinetic power of Ms. Horoscope, or whatever her name is.  She mind as well be a meteorologist; they have just about the same batting average.  I guess I should do some Power Yoga, clear my mind, work my daddy physic into some sort of shape, grab a beer and watch some Idiot Box.

Four star day?  Yes it was a four star day.  They all are; with the right attitude!  You just need to see it from a different angle.

Rush hugs??

To fill my "me" time (I try to do things I want to do to keep my sanity), I was looking to join another band.  Just something to do, something fun.  I did audition for a band, but I think I will pass on it.  I did fairly well, but I don't think its the right fit for me.  Maybe I am getting old.  Or maybe my musical tastes have changed after I've been rocking out to mid-tempo Americana tunes.  But I just couldn't bring myself to play music that I don't respect.  Why cover a song that I don't think is that good anyway?  And smelling like smoke isn't an aphrodisiac for me.  

When I am not in "me time" mode, the kids and I find ways to fill our days.  Usually its laundry and housework.  Sometimes its fun little outings.  Occasionally its lunch out.  But most of the time I, we hang around the house and play.  Not a bad gig at all.  While I was filling my "me" time today, I expected to return home to my lovely wife all frazzled, the house a disaster, and the patients running the asylum.  I walked in the door to find none of the above.  All of my beautiful ladies were doing crafts at the table, the house was in reasonable disarray, and there were no frazzles to be found.  The girls were well behaved.  Some days the stars and planets align, the seas part, dogs and cats get along, Rush Limbaugh hugs a hippie (well maybe not, but you get the picture).  Today was one of those day.  Come to think of it, I don't think there was a big blow up about nothing today.  Yes today was a good day.  Now we just hope the alignment stays for a while.  The hippies need the hugs.  

Russian Yoga

My wife and I started Power Yoga a couple of days ago.  It is a very fun and powerful workout.  That is if you can balance, which I have some issues with.  But eye on the prize; we will be stronger, more fit, and one step closer to the land.  Look out world.  A couple of hippies were born!  Next stop a Prius, farming, and no more meat.  (now that is just preposterous, on so many levels)

I don't have anything else tonight.  I am boring.  I hope you enjoyed today's post.  And a big shout out to the readers in Russia.  I don't know who you are, but thanks for reading.

Feb is the time to hate snow/Sounds

Every year, around this time, I start to get sick of winter.  And this year is no different.  One would think that since we didn't get much snow, a self proclaimed snow lover would be in his glory when we finally got the white stuff.  Alas, this is not the case.  I think its time for spring and I think the kids are on the same wavelength.  We are all sick of being cooped up in the house.  Sure, they run around and make a disaster out of every room that would make FEMA proud, but deep down, all they want to do is run free in the yard, with the wind in their hair, sun sining on their skin.  I know the day will come when it will be possible to be outside from sun up to sun down, but that day is not today.  I guess we just have to wait.

While I am writing, I was thinking of sounds I love today while I was in the shower.  I do all of my best thinking while I cleanse myself, which is where I do most of my pre-blogging brainstorming.  Call me a dork if you like.  At least I'm using my brain.

Anyway, sounds that I love:

I love when I get out of the bathroom every morning, after I shower, Cali says "Hi Daddy!" as excited as could be.  You'd think we havent seen each other in years.

I love when I walk in the door and the girls come running, while screaming, to greet me.  While this isn't an everyday occurrence, and it may burst your eardrums, its still nice.

I love hearing each of my children laugh uncontrollably.  Usually its my fault, or better yet the Tickle Monster.  It is an infectious laugh, you can't help yourself but to smile.

I love the sound of quietness when you go in to check on them at night.  So, I love the sound of no sound. I believe many parents are with me on this one.

I love a good low end sound in music.  While this has nothing to do with my kids, I love a good bass sound, and good drum sounds.  That is what makes a good song.  (unrelated to anything of importance here)

I love the sound of my kids singing.  They may sing JB songs.  They may sing silly children's songs.  They may sing nonsense song made up off the cuff.  They may not sing them well.  But its the sound of happiness of a child.


I love the sound of the ocean.  Again, not kid related, but its my list.  Back off!


I love the sound of my kids when they are happy.  Because when they are happy, I am happy.  And when I am happy, things seem to go smoother.  While this may not happen often, when it does happen, boy is it nice.

So I have been lazy for a few days.  We had a date night with a bunch of friends and enjoyed ourselves; some had a little too much enjoyment, if you catch my drift.  I know children have a much easier time learning second languages at younger ages, so we were thinking of enrolling Bayly in a foreign language class they are offering at daycare.  Keri thinks Bayly should learn French.  I think its just because we have a friend with a French National for a boyfriend and Keri wants to secretly (or not so secretly) be their best friends.  Either that or she wants to move the whole family to Oh La La Land and didn't tell me.  I hear they have very good health care.  Oh well.  I'll just go with the flow.  I guess I can pick it up at some point, if need be.  But I don't want my kid swearing at me in another language.
"I don't know what you are saying, but I'm sure its not good!  So you are grounded, Missy!"
Or she could become some well rounded scholar and be a very successful, multi-continental  businesswoman.  Or she could be gearing Bayly up for a move north to be closer to her real true love, Mr.  Bieber.  Whatever floats her boat.  Lets go with it and see where it takes us.  No harm, No foul.

My Emmy is coming

So that TV spot I did wasn't in some guy's bedroom, I wasn't abducted and I wasn't forced to sit through the Direct TV set up channel (a la Family Guy), but it was weird.  Like cable access weird.  It was, for those of you familiar with Cable 5,  like "The Not So Late Show" weird.  But it was fun.  I may have been the oldest person in the building except for the camera guys.  I did feel like I was some sort of "expert" on lightning.  Especially when I was asked what is lightning.  Of course I channeled my inner Todd Correll and spewed something on positive and negative electric charges that go from ground to sky and so on.  Yup, pulled that one right from....Oh nevermind where it came from.  It is based mostly in fact.  And it was only slightly creepy knowing the guy went looking for ME.  Actually ME.  Apparently there aren't too many people out there that have been struck by lightning that have lived to tell about it, or at least able to tell about it.  So I guess I am luck in that regard.  The only thing I have to complain about ist I won't be able to see it.  But those of you that have NutmegTV in Avon, Farmington, Bristol, Burlington, Berlin, Canton, New Britain and Plainville can watch me make a fool of myself at 10:30 tonight.  Well, I don't think I made a complete fool of myself. I have done far worse on my own.   

While I do applaud the boys and wish them the best, things could have run smoother.  Maybe it was just that it was the FIRST show they've ever done.  Maybe it was the fact that the entire show is run on Starbuck's version of "Box-o-Joe."  But if you get a chance to catch Weird TV, do it...at least once, just to say you have, so you can die a complete human being.  I think you can get it through the web site, NutmegTV.org  But don't quote me on that.  

On the bright side, I did get to read a bunch of the old articles about the lightning strike.  Had I remembered it happening the first time, it would have been nice to relive it.  It was nice to read what really happened, or at least the paper's version.  Three different papers, three different accounts, three different spellings of my last name.  Oh well.  I'm not bitter, but it'd be nice if someone did their research.  It was 17 years ago.  Standards for the press are much higher now.  I'm sure had it happened today, my name would be correctly spelled in every news outlet from here to Constantinople.  That will help me sleep tonight.  

Since this is a Daddy Blog, I guess I should mention my kids.  They were good today.  Bayly is earning her things back, Cali is a mad woman.  All is right in the world.  Oh, should I say more about them?  It was a slow day.  

Sun seeker

I am addicted to the sun and today was good for that.  I did get to clean the inside of my car and transfer the car seats over to the smallest car on the planet.  The kids played, didn't run into traffic, get hurt, or get abducted, and the car looks nice.  Now I need to do the outside.  But it's gonna rain tomorrow, so I'll let Mother Nature take care of it.  Too bad there is no acid in the rain water.  It would be great if She could wax it too.  That'd be something.  

The kids played well with each other; there's a first time for everything.  No, really.  They play like sisters, fight like sisters, and together they trash the house like any two kids.  What more can I ask for?  Oh, yea.  I could as for a bunch of cash, a new baby to get the wife off my case, or just world peace.  But I won't ask for those things.  I have two little girls that get along, at least for a few waking hours of the day, a loving wife, a clean car, and the best job in the world.  

Another thing to be thankful for, I will be taping a spot for a local access television program tomorrow.  I was approached by a man about my lightning strike in '94 right after I started this blog.  So 17 years later people want to hear about some kid getting struck by lightning,  I doubt it will break any Nielsen records, but someone may be watching and say "I remember that kid!"  I will find out where and when it will air.  Or this guy is just luring me to his home to steal my identity, admire my boyish good looks and eat my brain.  So if I don't blog anymore after this post, you know what happened.  Just hope my brains don't taste that good and I survive with majority of my noggin.  Wish me luck!

Retirement Plan

My kids were great today.  It seems that the marathon tantrum is over.  We may have hit a nerve with taking her most prized possessions away, like choice in shoes, her paper and crayons, her boom box (yes, my four year old is that old skool that she has a boom box).  I didn't go so far as to leave her with one of each shoe, so she'd have to wear two different shoes.  I just picked a couple of pair that she can wear comfortably and will go with a number of outfits.  That was until she slapped a pair out of my hand.  Now she is down to one pair of sneakers.  What's the big deal?  I wear sneakers every day.  They do their job to protect her feet and are quite stylish, even for a four year old.  I can only imagine what I can take away if this keeps going.  She may come home one day without a bed.  Or lights.  Or clothes; God knows she has enough of those.

Now we have a feasible threat.  And she knows we mean business.  And by we, I mean I.  Hopefully it will sink in this time.  I'm not holding my breath.  All I am trying to do is raise productive members of society that will one day make enough money to support my ass so I can retire early and play golf often.  And by the looks of it I will be knocking off early and playing lots of golf.

My only hope for tomorrow is that the weathermen will be right for once.  My car really needs to be cleaned and the kids need something to do.  Are you catching my drift?  Picking up what I'm putting down?  Feeling my flow?  Yea, they can play outside while I clean my car.  That's what you were thinking, right?  I know what you were thinking.  That woud be cruel.  They are only kids.

All I have to do is keep them from playing in traffic and we are golden.  I got this in the bag!




*Remember the sarcasm faucet is flowing*

Trying to please my audience

It has come to my attention that some of my readers might think I treat my children unfairly.  I think they get treated just fine.  Besides, they get a roof over their heads, three nutritious, warm meals, heat AND hot water, not to mention a hug and a kiss once in a while.  I'm sure I am going to have to send them to some sort of higher education and foot the bill for some part of wedding or civil union (hey, whatever makes em happy).  How much nicer do I have to be?  Do I have to wipe their bottom's too?  After all, I had to walk to school, up hill both ways, in three feet of snow, with holes in my shoes.  These kids have it made!

Sarcasm doesn't translate well on paper, or in written word (or even typed word).  I would never harm my children, intentionally or otherwise.  So if you think what I write comes across as hurtful to my kids, that is not the case.  And if you readers who know me think that, then you really don't know me.  I have a hard time curbing my inner sarcasm, I blame my parents.  To me, what I write is funny.  My analogies are amusing to ME, and if it amuses someone else, then it was worth it.  And if you aren't amused, I am sorry.  Maybe you will get it.  Maybe you won't.  Good luck.

The moral of this blog is not to read too much into what I write.  I started this blog to amuse myself, kill time, and share the kooky things my kids do.  I may rant.  I may rave.  I may brag.  And I may bitch.  But remember, I do it all with a sarcastic glow.  Read on with caution.


On a totally different note, Bayly was just doing the Robot.  She wasn't that caught up in Kids Yoga and dove right into the Robot.

Yoga Kids is dedicated to Artie the Buda Kitty.  In case you were wondering.  I know you were.

It will get better. It will get better? It WILL get better.

So for the past two days Bayly, my four year old, has been throwing a tantrum.  Yes a two day/48 hour/2880 minute/172800 second tantrum.  Not just any tantrum.  We have hitting.  Throwing objects and food.  Yelling.  Screaming.  Building WMD's.  Ok I cannot confirm the last one, but it wouldn't surprise me.  For what reason, you ask?  Name it.  Its here at home.  It was at church.  There is no real pattern, other than that she is a diva; a real bitch.  I don't know how to "adjust" her attitude without high voltage or  causing bodily harm.  We have taken everything imaginable thing away short of blankets, clothes and running water; the heat may be next.  Its hard to understand why things don't quite skink in yet.  "They" say to stick with time out; it will sink in.  But they don't know how stubborn Bayly is.  They don't know that both of her parents are very mild mannered and aren't stubborn at all.  We are really having a hard time figuring out where she get it.  (C'mon really?  We know.  It comes from her mother)

Just now, a cool, calm and collected politely asked to have "Little Bunny Foo Foo" so she can go to sleep.  Upon hearing that she will not be listening to "LBFF," or anything else for the next few days,  she flailed about on the floor like a fish out of water, kicking and screaming.  Now we have reached the apex of punishment.  She will have to chose outfits to match either her black sparkly shoes or her Nike Air's.  What else can we do?  I say we call The Super Nanny.  Maybe then we will get a spin off or even a reality TV show (because that's all that is on TV nowadays).

It will get better.  Cali can't be this bad.  It will get better?  Or maybe she will pick up her sister's bad habits.  It WILL get better.  She will be broken of these habits.  Either that or I have a big problem on my hands.  I can't take this for the next umpteen years.

Anyone got any ideas????

What did you do today?

So a few things happened today.

First Tim Wakefield retired from baseball after 19 seasons.  My hat's off to you, master of the knuckle baller, for a great career and being the sportsman you have been.  Thank you from a tried and true Sox fan.  Good Luck!

Second, we as parents have hit another parental milestone; witnessed a passage of rites that only select few parents get to witness.  Bayly has given herself a haircut.  Her hair was obviously too long and needed to be trimmed.  So who better to do it than her?  Her mother always said, if you want something done right, do it yourself.  So I guess my daughter is taking initiative to get things done right.  Right?  Her new look doesn't look bad.  Honestly you can't even notice she chopped a clump of hair off.  Not like the time I did the same thing.  I had cut a sizable portion of hair out of the front of my hair, only to leave avoid similar to missing a tooth.  Front and center where no one could look away.  I remember being reprimanded rather sternly by my mother.  After Bayly was told what she did was wrong, I think she got off rather nicely.  My how times have changed.  Kids these days have it so easy.  (I feel like my father saying that-well he never said that, but it's something a fantasy father would say)

The third thing happened yesterday, but it still counts.  Gary Carter died of brain cancer.  Now why would I, a Red Sox fan, care if Gary Carter, a Met partly responsible for the 1986 World Series victory, has died.  Wouldn't I be happy, you may ask.  Not at all.  When I was a kid and collected baseball cards, one of my favorite cards was of Mr. Carter.  I do not know why?  I can't even begin to tell you how or why I was drawn to the catcher of the Mets.  But he was a favorite nonetheless.  And I was saddened to hear of his brain tumor and even more saddened of his passing.  I guess I just love baseball and good, all-around baseball players.  NOT head-cases or prima donnas.

Fourth hasen't happened yet, but it will happen soon.  My wife and I are going out on a date.  We have a sitter.  Its gonna be a good night.  Sure the kids are asleep already and it will be the easiest babysitting gig in the history of babysitting, but its a night out for me and my beautiful bride.  Don't be jealous (I'm sure your're not), but some alone time with my wife, in a bar, listening to a band is better than sitting in front of the TV.

Fifth, it doesn't matter because there isn't a fifth.

The fever has spread!

Calm down folks, its not the fever you are thinking about.  Last night the sickly one slept through dinner, which was great because she didn't sleep during relaxation time like I wanted.  The only trade off of a dinner time nap is a child that's up late - like super late, like 11:00 late, like falling asleep after I fell asleep late, like too late for a four year old to be up late, you get the picture.  I think she arose from her slumber around the time she would normally be heading to never never land.  With hopes of lulling her back, my wife gave her the iPad to build cupcakes or do whatever it is kids do with that thing.  Turns out, kids watch a young boy sing and dance.  Yes that young boy; the current apple of my four year old's eye, Justin Bieber.  She has watched the movie before and has since been infected by Bieber Fever.  But her symptoms have faded, almost subsided, until last night.  Now its back to pandemic status.  We had to listen to the CD on the way to school today (by the way, thanks TINA for giving that to her).  She had to listen to it during relaxation time.  I'm sure she will soon be asking if Justin can come over for dinner.  What does he eat?  Canadian Bacon?  Isn't that ham??  Do I have to stock up on Molson?  Or Labats?  He won't come anyway.

And I am fine with all of this.  Even though he's Canadian (eh), he seems like a nice boy.   He's a little old for my Bayly, but a girl can dream I guess.  We've all had some pretty irrational fantasies.  When you are four you are supposed to have those irrational fantasies.  When you have those at 16, 10. 35 or 50 is when you need to talk to someone in a white coat.

So yes, the fever has spread.  At least Cali still wants to hear Yo Gabba Gabba.   (hum Yo Gabba Gabba theme here)

Kindness isn't random

No, this post isn't about Radiohead.  Or law enforcement of any kind.  Its about random acts of kindness that I may do from time to time.

While throwing something away in the garbage outside the other day, I saw a piece of paper in my yard.  In the garbage you go, rogue piece of trash.  I pick up the offending envelope and realize it is sealed.  However the elements have had their way with it.  The address was faded beyond recognition; the adhesive no longer sticky.  The envelope opened upon investigation and there was a check inside.  $20 for girl scout cookies from a gentleman in California.  So I do what any nice guy would do; go inside and Google the name on the check to see if I can return her property.  A neighbor!  Even easier.  I won't have to use a stamp.  Hey, 44 cents is 44 cents.  I will just drop it off, that way I can get instant recognition for my nice guy deed.

Yesterday I go to the what I think is the correct house to complete my good deed for the week/month/year.  Knock on the door only to be greeted by a very elderly man.  Not the Sue I was expecting.  I explain who I was and why I had their mail.  I leave and go deal with my sick child (see previous days blog for an explanation).

Today I get a visitor.  Now, no one usually comes to my house without calling first.  Through the window, vaguely looked like my mother, only with hair a shade or two redder.  It turns out it was the Sue I was expecting yesterday.  She explained to me that her mail was always falling out of her mailbox and thanked me for returning the check.  So the gratification was delayed, but its nice to know that good deeds don't go unnoticed.

There may be something to this nice thing after all.

That was a boring post, but I can't be exciting every day.  And I couldn't blog about my sick kid again.  I wouldn't put you through that again.  I will try better next time.  Or I will keep the boring, nonsensical diatribes coming.  At least I have options...

Hate is a strong word.

There are a few things in m life that I truly hate.  Most people that know me would say that I hate a whole bunch of stuff.  While that may be true, the top few is what I was thinking about.

First off, hate is a strong word.  But there are things, not people, that are ok to hate.  Inanimate objects are perfectly fine to hate.  They don't have feelings, a conscience or the ability to fight back.  Windshield wiper chatter drives me up a wall.  (While they may fight back, you have other issues if you loose a round in the ring against a windshield wiper.)  The wrong use of their/there/they're is a big turn on (sarcasm here!!!).  (Grammer is a tough cookie; pay attention in school.)  Driving below the speed limit on a sunny day on a major thoroughfare ranks right up there.  (Some people are have places to go, no matter what time of day it is, and I'm usually one of those people.)  And today I have found another thing to hate; the attitude my sick, helpless child.  Attitude may not be the correct term, but it sure feels like it.  And its not her attitude, it's the cold's.  She is just the vessel.

The dreaded Daycare phone call came today at lunch.  Not the phone call that is about your kids inability to play nicely.  Or the call that your child has been taken away by aliens.  It was the call of the dreaded fever.  The only worse call for a parent is the diarrhea/throwing up phone call.

So the call came,which starts the phone tree of calling her mother, the doctor, a fill in babysitter for her sister, and all other things that need to be taken care of to get your little peanut on the road to recovery.  It turns out that my little angel has contracted a viral cold of biblical proportions, at least that what she would have you believe.  And there is nothing anyone can do to cure this lovely virus.  We can make her more comfortable with ibuprofen/Nebulizer treatments/Benedryl (read, drugs, drugs, drugs to lessen the uncomfortableness), but she is four.  She doesn't understand.  She was just happy she didn't have to get a shot at the doctor's office.  Anyone in their right mind would be miserable in her situation, but most of us have been there before.  We can at least deal with the hand the "Cold" is giving us.  Not so much with my little Goober.  So my wife, Cali and I have a lovely Valentines dinner to the sweet sounds of a four year old whimpering and crying on the couch because she cannot breath/stop coughing/etc.  How romantic!?  Communicating with her is out of the question.  Believe me, we tried.  On can hope she will fall asleep soon and we can all hope tomorrow is better.  Here's hoping.

Which leads to my newest hate.  Yes, she is sick.  Yes she is helpless.  Yes, I am the more rational one (at least this time).  But it breaks my heart to not be able to help, at least in some way, my daughter.  It looks like we both have to ride this one out.  Wish us luck for a speedy recovery, and hope no one else in the house goes viral.  I hate when my kids are sick.  I hate not being able to help them.  I hate viruses.

Hate is a strong word.

Happy Valentines Day.  I'm off to get chocolate for the wife......Yea, that's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Huston, We have a man down!

Yes you read correctly, We do have a man down.  Well not really a man, more of a child.  And not really down, just sick.  

This morning Bayly walks into the bathroom while there is bathroom things going on, and says "I'm sick. Too sick to go to school."  Apparently someone planted the seed of the idea if she didn't feel better after sleeping the whole night, she wouldn't have to go to school.  That's fine.  But boy did I try to get her to go.  So after a morning of laying on the couch, boycotting lunch and an all around blah demeanor, a nap is the agreed course of action.  Sweet!  Sick kids and naps are great for each other.  They work hand in hand to cure the blahs along with the aforementioned cold.  One is napping; the other is napping.  Quiet time!  What's that like?  Oh, I remember.  Then there is an inquiry from the upper reaches of my house.  Then louder, then even louder.  Buy the time I get to what I believe is a child that has either thrown up, by wich the likes of Sissy Spacek would be jealous, or a limb is missing, I find a child that would like to come out of her room; all the while waking up her sound asleep sister.  Now its time for lunch.  What?  Lunch?  Alright.  We had our lunch an hour and a half ago.  So lunch goes fine.  A special someone eats like a horse.  Now we have a bunch of energy.  "I feel much better.  I guess I'm not sick anymore."  The great attitude and lack of sickness lasts until the second her mother walks into the door.  Then its a carbon copy of the days events.  Lethargic, grumpy, and blah.  Could the ibuprofen have worn off?  I am just going to chalk it up to a child being sick.  I hate being sick and I guess she does too.  But really, who like being sick.  

Tomorrow is a new day.   

Grammy's for all

Yes, it is Grammy Sunday.  Most people don't give a rat's about the RIAA's week of awards, most of which are never seen or cared about outside of the bowels of the shrinking music industry.  That being said, we all have our Grammy's.  They may not be physical awards given to us by an academy of esteemed know-it-alls or masters in our trade.  No, our Grammy's our the little things that make us proud of who we are, what we do and what we have taught to others.  While we may not have a shiny piece of metal (or probably plastic by now because its cheaper), we do have our pride.  Take pride in what you do.  Take pride in how you raise your offspring.  Take pride in your surroundings.  No award can match that feeling.  Sure its nice to hear "You did a good job with such and such." but YOU know you did a good job.  You don't need anyone to tell you.

Enough about the music industry and the parenting analogy.  Time to bring it down a notch or two.  Today I was holding Cali and she politely told me she had "Boogers" and proceeded to put her finger in my ear.   Yes, I had  two year old's nose goblins in my ear.  I am so proud.  That's my Grammy!

Week 1 in the bag

As week one comes to a close, I played hooky last night with the blog.  I am sorry to disappoint all of my loyal blog readers, but a guy's got to have a day off sometime.

So yesterday was a pretty good day.  The normal stuff,  Bayly goes to school, comes home, relaxation time, Cali up from nap and all Hell breaks loose.....AGAIN.  But during the "laundry folding time" of relaxation time, I was mixing some songs my band did in a rehearsal.  I finally got the files all organized and where they needed to be and Bayly wanted to cuddle.  So I do what any audio geek father would do; teach my daughter to mix songs.  Alright, I may be weird and a total audio geek, but it made me proud.  Considering the events of the last few days, it was a good bonding time.  And the mixes aren't half bad.  It seems "we" do a pretty good job mixing quick!  Who knew?

Today was the Valentine's Party for our friends; translation a party for the kids to run around and get all hopped up on sugar.  It wasn't all that bad.  The normal screeching girls, and then there were the kids.  But really, they were all quite well behaved.  I found a new friend for life in a little boy that wants to play my drums all day.  He may actually take a bullet for me.  I cannot confirm such things, but I have my suspicions.

All leave and we mostly clean up the house and its bath and bed time.  The outcome is rather good.  All in, clean and to bed relatively quickly.  Then Bayly wants her new toy that sings a song buy the "Hey There Delilah" people, but not that song.  Now there were 9 kids and parents for most of them at my house today.  My wife and I turned my house upside down again looking for this thing.  Under every imaginable piece of furniture that a small stuffed animal can weasel itself under, all the while waking up the younger Cali a few times.  Perhaps she wasn't exactly asleep yet, but I'd like to think she was.  All in all, no luck finding the elusive toy and we substitute it with something just as meaningless.  The moral of that story:  We will do anything for our kids, no matter how nasty they were the week before, no matter how many times they yell at us and swing with anger even though they don't know quite what they are doing.

So I love my kids.  Love them so much I will tear my house appart after I put it back together to look for something that could fint in my shoe.  I may bitch about my kids, but they are great. Kids are great.  My kids are great.  

It feels good to be loved

So, if you know me you know I bleed sarcasm.  The title of today's blog entry can be taken either way.

To start off the day, I get an email from my most recent boss, saying that there is a job opening and I was doing very well, fit right in, and basically if there were an increase could I be persuaded to return to work.  So all day I have been thinking of the job that could have been and the potential within said job.  It feels good to be loved.  I am going to call tomorrow to see what he had in mind and see how loved I am.  Maybe I will sleep tonight (don't bet on it).

So I should have known that the kids wouldn't get along today because Bayly went to school.  I know, a four year old should blossom from interaction with kids her own age and transition fine to and from social interactions at home.  Not the case, at least with her sister.  The normal drop off, pick up, get home, go for "relaxation time" for Bayly nap time for Cali while I fold laundry, chill out until the latter wakes up, and play/do projects/tear the house appart until dinner.  The first five in that list go fine.  Its the last one that gets their panties in a bunch every time.  I thought it was just the 4:30-daddy's making dinner time slot where something clicked in their little brains that every last rational thought went out the window and Bat Shit Crazy was the norm.  But I see today its just sisters "getting along" the way a shark and a bleeding seal do.  One antagonizes the other and vice versa.  And after numerous trips to the stairs, and subsequently to the bedroom without toys one would think it would set in.  But not today.

Finally bath time comes and get one in, out and into bed fine (guess which one).  Time for the 4 year old. Water's too hot.  "I'm cold!"  The soap is in my eyes -no soap has been applied yet.  Finally in, out, medicine, teeth brushed and story read (only 1 tonight because of the piss poor behavior).  Finally time to turn out the light and all hell breaks loose again.  She wants the light on in the hallway with the door open.  I calmly explain that because of her behavior today that it was not an option; also since her sister wasn't asleep yet the light would distract her from na-night bliss.  Screaming, yelling, kicking, face slapping ensues; yea, she slapped me, TWICE.  Now we have never raised our hands to either of our children so I blame society.  (not the place or the time for that fight)  Finally get her calmed down.  Go in to check on her sister who is now calling for "MOMMY."  I go in, in the dark, to reach out and find a naked but diaper clad baby in her crib.  How in God's name did she get out of her footie pajamas?  So finally get them back on her and back in to bed and , oh crap.  I forgot I have to get her Brobee.  One sec.....

So she managed to unbutton and unzip her P.J.'s again, at least she was still wearing them.  I hope they stay on for the duration of the night.  At least her diaper was still on.

It feels good to be loved, sarcastically for the second half of the day.

Yes, It feels good to be loved...

All three in one house

So today was the first day I had both girls all day.  Up until now, it was Bayly going to daycare for 4 hours while I "bonded" (i.e. played and cleaned) with Cali.  And come to find out, the girls play rather well with each other when they are with their sister all day.  There have been fights and sisterly "playing" the past few days they have been at each other's throat.  I guess the alone time has brought on some fight in the little one.  A proud day indeed.

This afternoon I felt like a bum.  We watched too much TV today; by we I mean Bayly and I.  In my defense, it was cold and cloudy and kind of drab.  Cali even slept for 3 hours.  We will make it up tomorrow.  It supposed to be nicer and an trip outdoors sounds good.

I am getting into a groove with these kids and I hope it gets easier as we learn each other.  But I guess now that will blow up in my face since I stated it.  Oh well.  Wish me luck....

Day 2

First off, I have a little bone to pick with Stop and Shop pertaining to their gas rewards program.  Apparently if you have more than 50 cents off a gallon the system shuts out and you have to go in and prepay.  The kind lady behind the counter clued me into this after I complained that it never works for me.  "Oh, no one told you.  If you have more than 50 cents off per gallon, it locks out.  It does at every Shell." Normally I wouldn't make a stink about it,  but today it was cold and I had to take Cali out and hold her while I pumped gas.  On the bright side, she got to pump her first gas with her dad, indirectly.  Something to make every father proud.

So yesterday I had to use the bathroom, exciting I know.  I come out to the girls playing nicely at the kitchen table.  Then I see why its so nice, nice.  They are painting their faces.  In their defense it was face paint.  But it just goes to show how fast they can get things done when you stop to pee.

On a lighter note, Cali insisted she vacuum today.  My plan is finally falling into place.  Soon they will be cleaning machines.  I'm not going to hold my breath.....

I'm a newbie

So my friends thought I should start a blog since I have entered the realm of being a (cue dramatic music and cinematic entrance) "Stay At Home Dad!"  While I have never blogged before, I am willing to give it a try.  It may suck big toes.  It may rock like AC/DC.  We shall see.  It may just turn out to be an account of the crazy things my kids do to me each and every day.  I will try to be entertaining, but few will get joy out of it unless they are, in fact, parents.

I currently have two beautiful girls, ages 4 and a half and almost 2.  My wife keeps not so subtly hinting that she feels the desire to have a third.  Something about a hole in her heart for a third child.  I have tried to talk her off the ledge of another "joyous" pregnancy by reminding her of all the ailments that popped up with the last two.  No luck with that approach.  I once had a friend that said that women forget what pregnancy felt like the second the baby is out and will repress those feelings until the next one is on its way out.  This friend is very wise and should go on tour spreading her truths to other women who one day would like to have more than one child.  In all truthfulness, the thought of a third doesn't strike fear into my heart as it once has.  Sure, the normal "Who is going to pay for this rugrat?", "Who is going to watch the kid?", "Do we really want to go through diapers AGAIN?" thoughts pop up.  But since I am now Mr. Mom/Dad Extroidinare it is kind of growing on me.  I would like to do something else.  But it is also the first day of Stay At Home Dad-dom, so I may not be thinking all that clearly.  Ask me again in a month or so.

Until then, I will try to teach the kids something worthwhile and stay up to date on the chores.  Maybe I will teach them to fold laundry to begin with...