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...