I'm a good samaritan!

In another chapter of "My life is a Sitcom", here's a story for y'all.

So I was on my way to go deal with a child and bed time issues (read "My wrist hurts"and "my leg hurts" and "I can't fall asleep.  I tried really, really hard", etc.) when I spotted some geese and a duck in my front lawn.  Normally I would think its pretty cool to have such exotic wildlife in my lawn, but I also remembered that a few weeks ago a neighbor searched my woods for some of her foul that had been run amok the night prior.  After I laid down the nighttime law, I went over the the aforementioned neighbor's house to altert them of their runaway feathered pets.  There was no answer at the door; pitch black inside.  Either they are being really, really quiet, or they are away.  I wonder which is the logical answer.  I mean, they have kids and I know how hard it is to keep kids quiet for a second let alone a few minutes.  They must be hiding....

After I gave up on the neighbors are hiding from me theory, I followed the mini flock up the street with the intention of coaxing them back home.  How?  I had no idea.  I've never moved geese before.  I tried whistling at them.  Calling them.  Chirping at them.  Kissing and click noises.  They were not amused or even remotely interested in me.  I felt that they would be fine and eventually make their way home.  The neighbor told me that they are very good at finding their way back home so I felt confident that they could fend for themselves until they meandered home.

As I was walking back to my lovely abode, I looked back up the street to see my new feathered friends crossing the road. (Please no "Why did the goose cross the road" jokes)  I live on a very busy main route.  People come flying by all the time.  Last year a very intoxicated woman decided my mailbox looked better 50 feet down the road than at the end of my driveway.  I just wish she used her words instead of her car at a high rate of speed.  So I am motioning to the coming cars to slow down to give my feathered comrades a fighting chance of crossing the busy thoroughfare.   One gentleman thinks I was waving at him and kindly waves back.  Eventually he realizes what I was alluding to and stops to let them cross.  As for the other lane of traffic, not so much.  I can only be in one place a one time.  This one driver didn't see the birds until it was too late.  Two of the five hollow boned animals met their maker with a feathery, automobile-ic thud.  The guy that hit them was very concerned and apologetic.  I really felt bad for his tween daughter in the passenger seat who witnessed the whole episode.  She seemed to be taking it quite well.  He felt so bad that he called the police then ran to BJ's for a few things.  But he said he'd be back to check in before going home.  What a nice guy.

So he leaves.  I get the rest of the very sad flock (if you can call it that) into the back yard and into their pen.  Then the police officer arrives.  I fill him in on the situation, who the rogue birds belong to and whatnot.  This officer and I spot another lone bird and decide to reunite hime with his feathered brethren.  This bird is a little more agile and astoot.  It was one of the city's finest and me, chasing a duck, trying to steer him this way or that.  We succeed to get him back to the pen after about 20 minutes or so.  It must have been some sight.  Then the driver who assaulted the geese/ducks came back.

A car pulls into the driveway of the house that houses these birds.  I'm thinking the owners came back from dinner or a night out on the town or discovering some far new land or something.  But nope.  It was just the duck-sitter; the person responsible for locking up these guys at night.  Then another (or the same one) bird is spotted.  Now its on!

For the next HALF AN HOUR (or so) me, the duck locker-upper, and a couple of neighbors try to get this fast, smart, ornery, sly, insane, black duck back home.  And the cop just drove right by.  I guess he is only good for one wildlife call per night.  I'm sure he will be talking to this call to all his cop buddies for a while.  Back to the runaway duck.  We corner it.  It gets away.  The helper takes a few dives to try to grab it but it gets away.  It was quite comical.  Finally we get him cornered in a bush and he is captured.  Ordeal over!  Just use your imagination and try to see us chasing a duck around the neighborhood.  Laugh at will.  I did.

All in all it was an unexpected turn of events that broke up the normalcy of a Saturday night.  And I did some good samaritan work.  Maybe this will get me off the fast track to the bad place when I meet my maker.  I just hope it won't be  as I'm crossing the road with my feathered friends.

And I forgot....


HAPPY FATHER'S DAY TO ALL MY DAD READERS

Well, Its been a while... But here's an amusing story

Ok.  You caught me.  I will plead to "I haven't felt all that creative and I'm kind of lazy" in the first degree.  But I will change.  I promise.  Just give me a slap on the wrist, a verbal reprimand, 15 lashings across the....  Oh never mind.  I will try to be better.

So since I've been gone some stuff has happened.  One band fizzled.  I pseudo-joined another, which has slowed.  And another is in the works.  So that's the musical update.

The dog is good.  He's a little stinker at times, but we (most of us) love him.  Its hard to imagine but its been almost a year that we have had him.  Time flies.

Kid wise is a different story.  We have gotten into our groove with school, errands, playing, and what-have-you.  Bayly is doing great in school.  Reading.  Writing.  Spelling everything.  And I mean EVERYTHING.  I can't even spell out "bad words" anymore because she will figure it out.  Why do they have to be so smart?  I blame the schools.

Cali is coming into her own; her own devilish character.  For instance, I would be cleaning up, kids playing together and as soon as I look up I see Bayly do some sort of bodily harm to her sister.  The first couple of times I reprimanded the elder child and imposed a fitting punishment.  After the fifth or so time this happens I realized that it was the younger offspring that was instigating.  Bayly was just defending herself.  The little (insert adjective here) was timing it just so that she wouldn't be caught.  This is going to make for great teenage years.

This past week has been one of Cali's "best" weeks.  And I use quotation marks to show sarcasm.  (I think that is understood, but adding these few more words makes the whole post seem longer, and in turn making me feel like I have written more than I actually have.)

The other day while playing together during relaxation time, (for those of you who do not know what relaxation time is, its after lunch when I get to do laundry/watch TV/look for jobs on the internet/research garden ideas/goof off/etc. and the kiddies play upstairs.  Play is usually what they do in between screaming at each other.) the two of them made a whole poop-storm of a mess.  Not actual poop, just a big F'ing mess.  The older one blames it on the younger one and vice-versa.  Long story short, they are not allowed to be freed of their mess until it is cleaned.  After some time, they clean it up and all is well in the world.

The next day relaxation time again (it happens every day for sanity's sake).  Laundry folded and I get to chill for a bit before I get the "Can we come down yet?" hollers from the stairs in their most angelic voices.  Only this time its a little different.  "Daddy, Cali's pouring water on the bed."  WHAT?!  It make perfect sense to pour water onto you bed if it were on fire or smoking or was a fish.  But her bed was and is none of these things.  So up the stairs I go to investigate The Great Waterbed Caper.

I need to preface the bed thing just a bit.  Cali has been potty trained for a long time.  It was recently that we kicked the pull-ups for bed and were going with gotchies a.k.a. undies.  A couple of weeks prior she was a super star.  Waking up dry, after us getting her up at 11 to sleepily put her on the potty.  Then she regressed.  One night was three sets of sheets in one night.  Then it was a couple days of bed wetting.  On the morning of the GWC, she was waiting for me when I came out of the shower, wet P.J.'s and all.  I clean her up, clean the bed up, put the sheets in the washer, etc.  Now before relaxation time, I had made her bed.  She saw me do it.  She witnessed the putting on of the new, non-urine smelling sheets.  Mind you they were the same ones that she soiled because I work that fast!

Back to the story.  So I enter the room of play to find a very wet bed and a very devilish Cali grinning.  She may be a psychopath.  Or she may be three.  Or she's both.  Well I was not pleased to say the least.  There may have been some talking in loud tones, I'm not sure, but I was ready to lock her in a tower until she was 45.  (Anyone got a tower I can borrow?)

The funny thing about my kids, and it may be the same for other families as well, when one is in deep do-do, the other one is overly helpful and polite.  It changes from one to the other, but when it hits the fan the other one knows to be an angel.  Which is nice.  But why can't they just act like that all the time?  So Bayly quietly and without so much as a peep cleans up the disastrous play-room while her sister is wondering if she will have the same fate as Rapunzel.

She was marooned to her tower.  That was until mommy got home and freed her.  Damn Price Charming.  Always ruining everything and freeing the princess.  I blame Disney.

Long story short, the Stay-At-Home-Dad thing is great.  There is always something new to keep me on my toes.  I wouldn't trade it for the world.

P.S.  If anyone wants to make a sitcom of my life, let me know.  I'm sure it would be amusing.  And I said sitcom.  None of this reality TV B.S.  There's enough of that on already.  I mean they have a show centered around duck calls.  Whats next?

That's it.  I'm done.  For today.  For the week.  For a few months.  Maybe.  Maybe not.

Nonsense

So here in New England the flu has arrived.  I am not sure it has touched down in my abode and I am hoping it steers clear.  Although, I did get a lovely gift from my wife:  Her cold!  We can only hope it does not get passed onto our little angels.  I am crossing my fingers, toes, ears and tongue.  (I can't cross my eyes; I'm not that talented)

To make it worse, there's a storm a brewin'.  And I mean a real doozy of a snow storm.  Three to six inches of the white fluffy stuff.  Now I haven't been out to the grocery store today, but I am certain it is pandemonium there.  And why?  If the storm, or any storm for that matter, is that bad you are going to loose power.  And it is always said to get milk and bread before a storm.  So with that rational when the power goes out, you will loose your new milk when it goes bad.  But thank goodness you have bread; at least you can feed the birds!

Ugggg

So since the dawn of the New Year, I have revisited some things I have let go by the wayside last year. One being this blog.  Another is that place where people sweat, lift things, and run in place; the gym.  I have been being active at the gym for about a week and it is really starting to take its toll on my body.  My legs are tight; my back hurts; I'm tired.  These are not the side effects I was looking forward to.  I wanted to see rock hard abs, a chiseled physique, and the ability to run a six minute mile.  It is really true what they say: Rome wasn't rebuilt in a day.

And since this blog is supposed to be centered around my life as a Stay-at-home-dad, I probably should talk about the kids at least once.

The kids are fine; growing up faster than a blink of an eye.  The older one has acquired an attitude that will rival any teenager;  Lord help us when her hormones really kick in.  And all of her bad habits are wearing off on her sister.  That can mean nothing but good things to come.

As a follow up to a prior post, I have started thinking about making a drum.  It is not going to be easy, to say the least.  But I do have a good friend that is a great wood-worker and I hope he will lend a hand and his expertise to the project.  I will keep you posted on the progress, as long as brightly, colored, shiny things stay away.


OOOhhhh, Look at that......

Perhaps I was a little over zealous

SO its been a few days since the last post.  Hey, I'm slowly getting back on this horse.  Rome wasn't rebuilt in one day - or something like that.....

Sometimes I feel the need to pass the time on the interweb and look for jobs.  Not that I need a job, per say, but it fills a curiosity that I could find a suitable job.  That is until I start looking.  There isn't much out there.  Granted I am not looking for a retail job or some other mindless, mundane job.  I am looking for something I will be passionate about.  I have spent too many years of my "adult" life doing a job that didn't do anything for me other than a paycheck.  If I am looking, I want something that I will enjoy, fulfill me creatively, and put food on the table.  (Now I don't want anyone offering me a job for food - its just a figure of speech!)  And since those job are dwindling the search continues, so to speak.

Which brings up another related topic:  What to do when the kids are in school full time.  A whole six hours just by myself?  What to do?  I'm sure after laundry, shopping, faux-job searches, cleaning, errands, goofing off, playing with the kids toys, gym (yea....  right....  the gym.....  isn't that the place downtown with lots of strange weights and things??), and whatever else may come up I will be hard pressed to find free time.  Perhaps I should find something I can do at home that won't take too much of my time.  Who are we kidding?  Anything undertaking I assume will take all of my attention.  That is until something shiny comes along......

The other day I read an article in the local newspaper about a luthier (guitar maker).  This fella, an accomplished musician started making guitars in his basement with his father.  Now I am not an accomplished guitar player, or can play much on the guitar, but I thought I could make my own, custom drums.  I know you can get drum shells from wherever, but I wanted to make my own drums from scratch.  A little internet research later, I found a few links for such an endeavor, but then came along that shiny thing again.  Hey, I am a drummer after all.......

Maybe someday I will start making my own drums.  Maybe someday I will find the time.  Maybe someday I will find something to do when the kids are in school.  But until that day arrives my full time job is my kids.  And we all know that is more than a full time gig.

Its been a while.

As 2013 starts, I figured I should revisit my blog.  That's right, I have a blog.  You probably forgot about it; I did for a while.  I will try to bring you all up to speed on all the crazy things, or just normal things, that have happened since I abandoned this blog like the Titanic.  

I'm not really sure where I left off and I am too lazy to go check, so I will just start where I think I ended.  

The spring was the spring.  The garden showed promise.  I picked up a couple of lawns in the neighborhood to supplement my Stay-at-home-ness.  The garden was doing well.  WAS.  I refer to it in past tense mostly because we went on a few vacations.  But while we were away, the highly invasive party of vermin called weeds moved in and decided they were better suited than all my plants.  But we did get a good harvest anyway.  My loving wife made pepper jelly, blackberry jam, apple butter (not from apples that we grow, but from a lovely day trip to an orchard), froze herbs and other things that grew despite the new undesirable neighbors.  I even think she made stewed tomatoes.  What a woman!  

Bayly started Kindergarden.  Yes.  I am the parent of a school aged child.  That first day, as the bus rolled up she gently walked away, said "Bye mom," and never looked back.  No tears.  No hesitation.  Nothing.  The only tears, and boy were there tears, came from her Godmother and Grandmother.  

And while one of my angels is away learning all the things there is to learn, I find way time to do things that are now som much easier to do with one child.  Grocery shopping.  Banking.  Random errands.  Saving the world.  You'd be surprised how easy it is to save the world while only toting one child.  

Around Bayly's birthday we got a dog, much to the chagrin of my wife.  We found a great breeder of Labradoodles near by that came with a great review from a friend.  We had to choose the less than manly sounding yet hypoallergenic dog because of asthema and other health concerns.  Toby is a great dog, most of the time, gets along well with the kids, and even seems to enjoy life in our family.  But he is growing on my wife.  He knows how to turn it on.  He always finds time to cuddle with here on the couch at night.  I guess he takes after me.  Smart dog.  

Halloween was uneventful, aside from a hurricane/annual October CT storm.  

Then Thanksgiving.  No biggie here.  Same ole, Same ole.  

Newtown.....  My kids were lucky enough to not really know anything happened.  They are just too young.  It was very hard to grasp.  I, like so many other parents, hugged my kids tight that day.  

Christmas was insane mostly because I have a school aged child and a toddler.  Not a bad insanity.  A normal insanity.  If you have kids, you know how it is.  If you don't have kids, you are missing the best time of the year.  Or are you?  

Which brings us to New Years.  My wife and I were saying last night that 2012 was pretty quiet for us as a family.  No major things going down.  Lets hope the next year will be much of the same.  

Happy New Year my loyal followers/readers.  I will try to keep this going longer than last year.  Here's hoping!

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.