I'm not going to make excuses. Its been busy.

I don't really know where I left off with you all.  And I am too lazy to go back and read, so here's the latest:

Many of my loyal readers (including those in Europe; which still blows my mind that people that far away and whom I have never even met read my blog) know my better half was pregnant, again.  (And if you didn't know, now you do)  On March 24th of this year we welcomed our newest DAUGHTER (Yes, now I live with four women) to our family.

Wait, that might be a bit too gory.  Lets try this one:

That's better.  Anyhow, Josie's story starts like this:

The plan was to drop off the soon-to-be middle child off at preschool and head out to the hospital for our scheduled C-Section.  The aforementioned preschooler gets dropped off at 9 and we were not to be at the hospital until 11:30.  What can two grown adults do for two and a half hours that didn't involve food? (Because no eating before surgery)  So we meandered on our way, stopping at the book store to get a book about pets moving onto the afterlife for our friend's child that recently lost a beloved dog.  That killed about 15 minutes.  Then to the card store to hunt for an "I'm Sorry Your Pet Has Died" card.  Surprisingly hard to find.  Another 10 minutes burnt.  But we were also 25 minutes closer to the hospital.  So we decide to just go early and see what happens.  Good idea, right?  Or so we thought.  We get to the place where they fix people (Hospital), head up to L&D, wait, check in, wait, get our staging room, wait, wait, watch the other birthing women on the monitors, wait.  There was a backup in the O.R.  The nurses contact our surgeon to tell him not to rush because of said backup.  I went to get something to eat, ya know because we couldn't kill time eating before.  I was back maybe ten minutes when it was go time.  But no "We are going to start to move you," or no "The doctor is here and the O.R. had been cleared for takeoff."  Just a mass of nurses and staff whisking us down the hall.  Not so much me.  I was lagging behind with all the bags and left over food, and whatever I could carry.  The bed couldn't carry all that stuff AND a bag of clothes.  

The wife gets taken into the sterile environment while I get to wait (again, alone this time) and change into my very stylish and sexy scrubs. Then some more waiting.  The Dr. pops his head out to tell me that my wife has a nice back and the epidural went in without a hitch.  Thanks for that.  It's strange what people notice.  We were instructed to make a playlist for our delivery, which we/I did.  And it kicked ass.  So much ass that I forgot the iPod when I was finally called to join the party.  So back I run to the partner waiting area to gather said Apple device and hustle my way back.  Now I didn't think my playlist was that cool.  Just some Beatles, maybe some Beach Boys and some G'n'R.  But the staff raved about my soundtrack.  It was fun.  It was mostly appropriate.  

About an hour after I got to the party, my daughter Josie Catherine was born (to "Here Comes The Sun").  Both mom and baby did fine.  

I stayed at the hospital that night to help change diapers and such, seeing how post C-Section moms can't do any heavy lifting.  I changed 12 poopie (baby poop, merconium, the stuff they tar roads with).  One thing we knew after that night was this kid can poop!  It is a major life skill, after all.  Really a key to survival.  

Like I said, I stayed one night and then back to tend to the other offspring.  They missed mommy. But they were excited for their new sister.  The next few days we all spent time going back and forth to visit and tend to both mom and child.  Then homeward bound and things get real fun!

A few weeks before the birth, the oldest picked up this attitude.  Lots of back talk and general nastiness.  It could have had something to do with the baby.  It could have been the weather.  It could have been school.  I think she's just blossoming into her teenage years sooner than we thought.  Needless to say, we have yet to curb this new peachy attitude.  And, boy, is it fun!

Some other things that happened:

We took a mini family vacation to Boston.  That went well.  

The garden got planted.  I had to expand one garden and reduce one.  All told, I now have 1080 square feet of garden.  So what do you do with a plot that big?  I put in 34 tomato plants, corn, squash, zucchini, beans, spinach, eggplant, watermelon, other melon, lettuce, kale, basil, thyme, oregano, dill, parsley, beans, peas, and strawberries. You know, because I have a screw loose.

This past weekend we just attended the two girls dance recital.  Usually their recitals have one or two major catastrophes.  No one ever gets hurt.  Things like the sound shuts off, or the preschoolers cry throughout their entire routine.  This year I lent my audio expertise to the sound issues of years past.  At least that part was under control.  No sound dropping on my watch!  The first show went rather well.  Nothing too, too bad.  Just a broken "stretcher" (table on wheels) and minor logistical issues that go with the territory of getting 100 or so (or more, or less.  I lost count) women and girls where they need to be at the time they need to be there.  Again, no one got hurt.  The second show.  Ahh.  The second show.  We all should have know that something was going to happen.  The first show went well.  In the second show, in the very first number, the lights go out.  18 minutes later we figure out what in God's name happened and restart the show.  Major crisis resolved, or so we thought.  Somehow in the blackout and rebooting of the light board, on light stayed on.  It stayed on, illuminating the stage during set changes, shining right on the crew moving props.  The real stars of the show were now THE show.  Now I have been back stage for a great deal of shows of all kinds.  The back stage folks do not want to be seen.  We are the people that make the show run smoothly and we are not used to being seen.  But the crew never let it bother them and kept right on going.  Intermission came and we were determined to fix this rogue light.  And right when it was resolved, the board shut everything down again.  Another 5 minutes of extra intermissioning (now all told 23-25 minutes behind schedule) we got it figured out.  And I am just the sound guy.  All shows come with their own stress.  But this show was the most stressful show I have done.  Ever.  The rest of the second act went off with out a hitch.  (Thank Goodness)  

All said and done, we have been very busy these last few months.  And now that my wife is back to work I should have more time to blog.  Sitting at the computer while she was home didn't feel right, with the baby around and all the other work that had to be done.  Now I can goof off in peace.

I am sure I left out a bunch of stuff that happened.  It must not have been important, otherwise I would have remembered.  Or living with four girls has already turned my mind to mush. 

Here is what I do remember, and not just because there is a photo.  Here is me and the three kids on Easter.  

Until next time!

Stand your ground ammendment

First off I would like to state that my personal beliefs have no bear on the Stand Your Ground law stories that have been in the news recently. If I make a humorous statement about the case or the person(s) involved, it is just for the sake of a laugh. This is just another thought from a parent's standpoint.

The other night I made a wonderful (or so I thought) dinner. The other parental unit as well as the younger of the offspring thought so.  However the eldest child was not in the same Praise Camp. To her it was "messy and disgusting looking," and "It tastes repulsive."  All while not even trying a tiny bit of it.  How does one know if a meal is repulsive tasting if one does not even put a single bite in their mouth is beyond me. We all ate our respective meals while the newest hunger strike member campaigned for a new meal.  Over cries, tears, yelling, gagging, and defiance.  We calmly said that this is dinner and there will be nothing else to eat for the duration of the night.  I do a great deal around the house.  I cook.  I do laundry.  I clean.  I make meals.  ONE meal per sitting.  I am not a personal chef; I don't get paid enough. We all eat the same meal.  If you don't like it, you don't eat.  (I know some of my grandparent readers will say "Just give her her own meal.  You can't not feed her." But it is not my job to be at the beacon call of their culinary desires. It is the grandparent's job to do that.)

Kids won't starve.  If my children had a food allergy or some sort of dietary restriction, then I will make a special dish for them.  Most likely we would all eat the same meal with consideration made to said restriction. That being said, my kids have neither.  They aren't even picky eaters (aside from this instance). Needless to say she had a few bites and went to bed.  I'm sure the food-borne tantrum was directly related to the fact that she was tired.  Do you know what happened the next morning?  She woke up.  She didn't starve because she didn't have dinner. She didn't turn into a pile of dust during the night. She woke up and had breakfast, just like any other day.

Back to Stand Your Ground.  What I am proposing is that parents should not be looked down upon for malnutrition if their child doesn't eat a single meal.  It is just one meal. The parents should not be forced to make a new meal just to please one child.  We work hard and the last thing we need is to make more work for us.  Again, kids won't starve. The meal put before them is the meal.  Eat it or don't.  Their choice. Parents, stand your ground.  You work hard doing your jobs plus all of the other parental things you do.  Don't make more work for yourselves.

Maybe Mr. Zimmerman was just trying to get Mr. Martin to eat his meal. Maybe he didn't eat the fish or the broccoli or the flafel.  Even if that were the case, I am not saying we should all injure (or worse) our children if they refuse to eat the meal of the night. Remind them that One Meal, One Sitting is the law of the land. Unless that is, if you live in Florida.  Then all bets are off.

(Apologies to the Grapefruit State)

Its Valentine's Day

Happy Valentine's Day, all. Happy holiday created by Hallmark to sell you stuff and make you feel guilty for all the stuff you haven't done yet. And if you say Happy V-D you better be saying it to an ex that told you that Star Wars was stupid or someone that killed your cat or dog because they were taking too much of your attention. Because VD is the best gift you can give that person.

So it is no surprise that I am a horrible gift giver. If you have ever gotten a good gift from me, it probably came from my wife. I lack all thought and preparation. I usually don't think about the occasion until it is very, very near.  Like the day of, or even in some cases the day after. So if you've gotten something totally weird, inappropriate, or downright idiotic it most likely came directly from me.

That being said, I had this great idea for a Valentine's Day gift for the Mrs. I will call it the Why I Love You Project. Over the last week or so, I wrote down the reasons why I love my wife and planned to give them to her throughout the day.  After I sent the first one I added #wily, hoping she would get the reference.  She didn't and I had to explain it. We so aren't Twitter people. It is no secret that I despise the hashtag.  Check out the Fallon/Timberlake skit about it, here.  I'm with ?uestlove on this one. He is the best. If you don't know him, check him out. But I had to use the hashtag (#).  Mainly because I was too lazy to type Why I Love You after every thing.  It was all about time management. The hashtag:  the perfect combination of laziness and efficiency.

I won't go into all the reasons but here are a few that I have sent so far:

Why I love you

You are beautiful

Your pretty blond hair

You support me in whatever I do

Your determination and 

Your drive 

The way you help people

Your (mostly) even tempered parenting style

You look good in anything you wear

The way you brighten any room you enter

Sappy? I know. But it's Valentine's Day and that is what Hallmark wants. I do not want to upset the capitalistic Gods. 

There are more. I am not going to post them here because my wife is a loyal reader and I don't want to spoil it for her. Trust me. They are sappy, some are funny and all are from the heart.

So married, dating, friends-with-benefits friends, families, random strangers, please join the project. Tell someone why you love them today and every day.  You can use the "#" if you want, but I will NOT be checking. I am already cringing at thinking about it. 

#rantingsofastayathomedad (cringe)

Its Been A Long Time...... Since I've been writing.....

My life pretty much stays the same. Day in. Day out. Occasionally something comes by and throws a wrench in the schedule, but even the wrench doesn't bother me that much.  Occasionally. But this day was the same, aside from some snow and some more snow and then some more snow.

This is the before photo.  

I don't have an after because I am too lazy to go upstairs and take another pic.  

You can use you imaginations.

Many know that we are expecting another mouth to feed in late March. And if you didn't know, you do now. While we were getting pummeled by the biggest winter storm of the year (it was just a normal Connecticut storm; only twelve inches. Hardly anything to bat an eyelash at. We've had worse. Like the year we got almost 100 inches, most of which were major storms. None of this two inches of snow that shut down the south. That year we got storms that dropped FEET of snow, so one measly foot ain't nutin) we thought (and by we, I mean my lovely beautifully pregnant wife) it would be good to ready the baby's room in case things needed to progress faster than the scheduled C-section. Things happen, I understand. High blood pressure, PUPS (A.K.A. itchiness from the depths of a really hot, despicable place), alien hijacking, and any and all other random things that can happen to a pregnant woman.  I agree to tidy up and wash baby clothes and get all the other things in order to lessen the load IF something progresses quicker than the schedule.

Side note: Laundry is relaxing for me. Watching some Cheer's on Netflix and tackling the load of the day.  Half hour and I'm done. That's normal people's clothing. Folding baby clothes takes forever.  There are way too many things for one load.  Tiny socks. Tiny Onesies. (I can't figure out how to put in a registered trademark sign here so Gerber, don't come after me for using your product name. I mean, everyone calls them Onesies. I don't think I've ever heard anyone refer to them as "body suits." And besides, aren't body suits the things girls wore when I was in middle school? Those snaps were impossible) Little pants. Little hats. Little blankets. Little everything. I guess its just been quite a while since I've done a load of baby clothes. Like three years.

Back to the story, I arrange the tiny washed and folded clothes (all of which are unisex colored because we don't find out what we are having. Something has got to be a surprise these days.) in drawers and in the closet the way I think will be most logical. Honestly, I really don't care. I was just trying to do something so I didn't look outside and think about shoveling.

I would like to say I finished organizing everything and the room looked immaculate. I would like to tell you that I am an organizational mad man. I would like to be a millionaire. Unfortunately none of those things are true. But I did get a head start.

What happened while I was out shoveling, snow blowing, and playing the Driveway Clearing Fairy (I cleared off my neighbor's driveway while they were at work and it felt good to do good) the room mysteriously tidy'ed itself. Thanks to my wife for finishing what I started. I would have gotten to it, eventually. And besides, she knows where things are supposed to go. It's not like I don't know where everything else is in the house. I think she just did it to keep my on my toes. Throw me a curveball. Making me learn a new room. Or she just didn't like my organizational skills. Whatever the reason, it is done.

The moral of the story is people think and organize differently. What works for you probably won't work for them. One can't know for sure what the other is thinking, unless they are twins because they have that twin thing where they communicate with each other telepathically and freak people out. (We AREN'T having twins. Just one, that's all we've seen on the funny machine that looks into the belly) And if I were to know what another human was thinking, I would be a lot richer (see above about what I would like) and women wouldn't confuse the living daylights out of me.

[And I would like to thank my band mate for inspiring the title of this blog. (Just sing it and it will come to you) And if you want to hear what I mean, by all means come to Torrington tomorrow night (2/8) and catch our set. Sorry International readers, we don't have streaming. Just hop on a flight and it will be a fun adventure. We will be done by 9 so you can still get home to catch the late news! Unless you are catching a flight back to Europe.]

I have found A secret

This week the other parental unit (a.k.a. my lovely, breadwinning, awesome, beautiful wife) is away again on business.  At least that is what I was told for the reason for the trip to sunny Disney World Florida.  I know she is having a tough time.  Sitting by the pool.  In the warm sun.  When she really is longing for the confines of snowy, negative seventeen degree (windchill) New England home.  But someone has to take one for the team and I guess this time it was her.  Thanks, darling.  We all appreciate it.  I mean which looks better?

This?

Or this?

You all said option B, right?  I thought so.  

So I was giving the hellians a bath, and as usual they were berserk the second they get into water.  I don't know about you parents out there, but once my kids hit the bath water they go insane.  Throwing water.  Splashing uncontrollably as if they were having a seizure (which they aren't.  I've checked).  So last night as the bath was filling up they wanted it to go faster.  So I did what any semi-psychotic parent would do.  I filled a small bucket, usually used for rinsing, with water from the sink.  COLD water.  I have a well so it was really cold.  Seeing this the girls knew of their impending doom and calmed right down.  I put the bucket next to the bath within reach if things got out of hand again.  The rest of the bath went rather smoothly aside from the normal bumping and pushing to "get into warmer waters."  One kid was all washed and had gotten out of the tub.  The other, older and wiser child decided her ears no longer worked and ceased to heed my requests for tub exiting.

Oh, Looky here.  There's a big bucket of water here.  I sprinkled a little on her.  Still no compliance.  So I poured some out.  Onto her naked, yet submerged behind.  Oh the screams.  You'd think I put hydrochloric acid in the water and her skin was being devoured by tiny OH molecules.  I asked again for her to exit said tub.  The not-so-warm water must have unclogged her ears because she snapped right up and made a B line for the towel. Success!  Kind of.  I just hope I didn't scar her for the rest of her life.  Nah.  She's a trooper.  Much too strong for a little chilly water to forever footnote her childhood.

You may think of my actions last night down right cruel or sadistic.  I'm okay with that.  I had to do something.  Otherwise the mutiny would spread through the troops like wildfire and I would have had to turn the hose on them.  On a frigid night.  (The bucket doesn't seem so bad now, does it?)

I doubt they will try to pull that stunt again.  Until tonight at least.  Maybe I should grab a bucket of snow just incase.

Tonight is special

For those of you who read my last post, you know I have been playing single parent for a few days.  No big deal really.  Just another stroll in the park.  (Cue whistling and nonchalant stroll)  BTW bedtime last night went off without a hitch.  The girls stayed in the same room - ALL NIGHT - without incident.  Will that ever happen again?  Shake your Magic 8 Ball to find out;  I bet "Chances are Not Likely" will come up.  

Back to the topic du jour.  Tonight being special.  It is special because the lady of the house is returning home.  Please do not ask what time she will come home.  That question has been asked more than a million-gazilion times since she has left two days ago.  At least they spread em out over the entire span of their mom's absence.  Because if they asked that many times all at once, or all in a row, I would be curled up in a ball in the corner rocking myself to insanity.  

ANYWAY.....

My beautiful wife is coming back today and we have a date tonight.  These two occasions weren't planned to be in conjunction, but when God gives you limes, you make margaritas.  This date night isn't like the normal date night.  Its not "Oh, I'll watch your kids tonight so you can go out to dinner."  This is a full on, pre planned, dinner and a show date.  A while back I got tickets to Phil Vassar at a local venue.  (Honestly the only thing I know of Mr. Vassar is his song on our wedding CD that we made for our wedding favors.)  But he can't be too bad.  Adult Contemporary Country with a little hipness.  As long as it isn't One Direction or Ms. I-Can't-Really-Sing Swift.  I have heard enough of those two in my head when I wake up, when I go to sleep, when I drive the car.  Sometimes I think I have a brain tumor, then I just remember we only listen to Radio Disney.   (Woah, we have veered quite far from the topic.)  Maybe there's some validity to Radio Disney causing brain diseases.  I'll get back to you on that.  Please people of Disney, there is no scientific proof to my theory.  I am totally positive there is no correlation between your quality Satellite Radio Station and any body damaging sickness.  Please don't punish me by making me ride It's A Small World for eternity.  It will never happen again.  

We are planned to drop the kids off for a sleepover at the grandparents and head to our show.  I'm sure there will be some date stops in between.  Some really romantic stops.  Like the clearance isle at Target or a romantic stroll through the drug store on our way to pick up pictures that were printed, yet we have no room for any more photo albums.  And since the rise in popularity of digital cameras, who has photo albums anymore?  (I'm noticing a theme today - not staying on topic.  Mental note:  Don't blog in the morning.)  If we can keep ourselves under control on our romantic stops, we should be able to get to our show a little early for a pre dinner cocktail (for me) and an unleaded beverage for the one with the baby bump.  

And after the show we are to pick up the older one from her slumber and return her to home in preparation for her upcoming school day and leave the younger child to sleep.  (Don't worry, we aren't leaving her there for good.  She'll be dropped off in the morning.  If we haven't run off to Tijuana.)  All in all it seems like a good plan.  I'm excited for a night off.  The Wife has expressed her excitement for a night out.  The kids are excited to take over The House That Grandpa Built.  

Everything looks great, on paper.  What could possibly go wrong?

Its that time again. The time where I make a blog post.

Its that time again.  The time where I make a blog post.  The first post of 2014.  Big news, I know.  Try to hold back your excitement.  Naahh.  Get excited.

This week my co-habitator/significant other/wife/baby-mamma is away on work business.  At least that's what she's telling me.  I think she just needed time away after the holidays.  Or she might actually be doing work things;  she's always doing work things.  So its just me and the girls doing what we do.

A funny thing has been happening lately at bedtime.  Usually we (the mother of said children and I) break off and each read stories or are read stories to, by the children.  Then its off to la-la land for them.  We just get some quiet time together.  Which means we watch some TV or clean up some giant mess that was left from the daily kid tornado.  Lately the older one is getting frustrated with her younger counterpart.  She is really into reading and genuinely likes it.  Who knew?  Must take after her mother.  Needless to say she needs peace and quiet, and anyone with a three year old knows, peace and quiet are things only read about in science fiction novels.  Or after the offspring have grown and moved out.  So she reads her books in our bed, usually reading herself to sleep.  Its great.  Unless you create a pattern and she is reading herself to sleep every night in your bed and you are transporting a sleeping first grader to their bed without trying to wake up her younger sister.  But that's my gripe with it.

Her sister on the other hand does not want to fall asleep alone.  She is fine playing alone.  She is fine watching the iPad or Idiot Box alone.  She's probably fine blowing up a building alone.  But sleeping?  That can't happen without a partner?  I feel her pain.  Sleeping alone isn't the same.  But my experience with solo sleeping and her's vary differently.  She just wants another human in HER ROOM.  My wife has been stealing my covers, stealing my body heat, and leaving socks in the bed for almost eleven years all the while building a fortress of pillows around her.  It has turned into a modern day Goldie Locks and The Three Bears.  This pillow is too flat.  This pillow is too hard.   This pillow is not hard enough.  This one is not soft enough.  I swear my bed is starting to look like one of those beds you see on HGTV where the pillows take up 95% of the bed space.  How are you supposed to sleep in it?  If they all are going to end up on the floor, what's the point of all the pillows?  You need one pillow.  Just one to rest your noggin on while you sleep.  And I'm not even sure about that.  I'm a little off topic here.

After last nights mini tantrum about falling asleep alone, I calmly break the news to Me. Sleepypants that she needs to keep quiet in order for her sister to sleep in the same room.  And after a few more coddling words, she finally agrees (basically I told her that it isn't going to happen) that for tonight, she will go off to sleepiness bliss without the company of her elder sister.  But maybe tomorrow night.  If she can keep quiet.  Here's hoping.

One day they won't want to be within earshot of each other.  But for now, I'm glad at least one of them wants to be with their sister.  And they will have to band together and form an alliance once the new baby comes along.  That will go over like a fart in church.