Happy Holidays to y’all.
What does December 25th spiritually mean to my family? Not much, we celebrate Chanukah in our home. The day off though was much welcomed; we kept the kids home from school and spent time as a family. Our project for the day was making doughnuts. Robin made the dough, the kids cut out the doughnuts and I fried them. After they cooled we topped them off with cinnamon, powdered sugar and regular sugar. The kids really didn’t eat a good dinner that day…..hmmmmmmmmmmmmm, I wonder why.
On another note, when there are kids around and you feel the need to swear, if you have common sense you would replace the word with something less harmful. You’d say Frickin instead of F*c”ing or crud instead of S*it; you kind of know what I mean, right, right?. The art of substitution must be paramount for a parent with young children.
With that said. I’m very good with substituting this for that but I am a firm believer now that being silent is better. I heard my five year old son tell his younger sister to give him the frickin ball. That word although much better than it’s relative still sounded bad to me.
Instead of substitution I’m going to be silent the next time I have the urge to swear. I figure if the later rubbed off on my son, this should too. Now, if my son starts to keep quiet, is it an indicator that he’s got all these disgusting swear words running through his head? …………………..Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah Shit, I mean Crud.
Showing posts with label Me the Dad. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Me the Dad. Show all posts
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
The Adventures of “What In The World Were You Thinking”
There comes a time in every parent’s life where the thought of purchasing chains and locks makes perfect sense. Why is it that during the school year our children try and sleep later in the mornings, but during the summer they must get up between 5:30 & 6am (including weekends)? WHY?”
Not to long ago on a Sunday morning I found myself at our local park (1 block from the house) with a coffee in my hand watching 3 of my 4 kids having a blast on the monkey bars. This was all happening before 7AM. You would think that we would be the only nut jobs in the park at this crazy time of day……. You would be wrong. I found out that day that there is a place where the walking dead inhabit the earth. They even have their own language and indulge themselves with coffee. The mommies and daddies of the these, I guess you can call them “children”; I like little demons, were walking around aimlessly, slumped over, obviously wearing what ever they could easily find that morning, grasping their beverage, glancing at each other and without opening their mouths saying: Help Me, Please Help? They would look at me then look towards the entrance of the park as if saying “we're going to make a run for it, are you in”? I wanted to say yes but thankfully the coffee started to kick in and I heard my kids giggling.
Not to long ago on a Sunday morning I found myself at our local park (1 block from the house) with a coffee in my hand watching 3 of my 4 kids having a blast on the monkey bars. This was all happening before 7AM. You would think that we would be the only nut jobs in the park at this crazy time of day……. You would be wrong. I found out that day that there is a place where the walking dead inhabit the earth. They even have their own language and indulge themselves with coffee. The mommies and daddies of the these, I guess you can call them “children”; I like little demons, were walking around aimlessly, slumped over, obviously wearing what ever they could easily find that morning, grasping their beverage, glancing at each other and without opening their mouths saying: Help Me, Please Help? They would look at me then look towards the entrance of the park as if saying “we're going to make a run for it, are you in”? I wanted to say yes but thankfully the coffee started to kick in and I heard my kids giggling.
Sunday, May 20, 2007
Friday, February 02, 2007
Pressure
I was directly reminded of the age old question that has not been properly answered since the beginning of time. The planet that I have been living on for the past 35 years felt as if it had stopped spinning and that someone had placed a “you are here” sticker marking the latitude and longitude over my current position. Although I was within the confines of my comfortable warm home, I could feel the pressures of world weighing down on me and the souls of past waiting to see how I would respond to the uncomfortable situation that I had not welcomed. My heart started to beat noticeably faster, I started to sweat. I contemplated an exit strategy that would not, could not be executed. I made a quick assessment of the situation and answered with tremendous precision that would allow me to continue my evening peacefully.
What is a father to do when changing his newborn sons diaper and the little bugger decides to puke and finish pooping at the same time while the diaper is off, having the fear that at any moment he could pee on me and everything else within a 4.5 ft. radius?
Have a nice weekend.
What is a father to do when changing his newborn sons diaper and the little bugger decides to puke and finish pooping at the same time while the diaper is off, having the fear that at any moment he could pee on me and everything else within a 4.5 ft. radius?
Have a nice weekend.
Monday, January 08, 2007
20/20 Baby!
I went to the eye doctor this morning and left with some good news (it’s about time). Doc told me that my eye sight was actually improving. Something about people who are near sighted improve as they get older. Yup, that’s probably one of the few things that improve with age judging from all those commercials that are on for guys that have “MAN” issues, and no it’s not the prostate problem. So I walked out of the office with my head held high grinning from ear to ear, just like “smiling Bob”, the Enzyte guy.
I had to purchase new contact lenses and was told that I should replace my eye glasses as well. I use contacts as my primary aid for sight and only use glasses between the hours of 8pm until I go to sleep. However, I was told that I should give my eyes a rest by wearing glasses more often. Looking at glasses I discovered the reason why I haven’t purchased a pair in the last twelve years (yes the glasses that I have been wearing in the evenings are twelve years old and have a twelve year old script in them), it's because there are to many styles to choose from and I can’t make up my damn mind. After trying on about 22 pairs, I settled on this nice little number from Marchon. A very nice simple rimless titanium frame that will blend in nicely. People won’t see the glasses coming, only me.
$350, what the hell. I said to the guy “Jeff, these frames DON’T Even have a frame, they have a freaken lens with a couple of things attached to it so they stays on my face.” After he stopped laughing at me he told me that I could choose from this area over “there” were the frames are about $149. I looked briefly and concluded that the $149 Elton John look was not for me. I ordered my contacts and told Jeff that when I come back to pick them up I will probably take the Marchon’s, but only after shopping on ebay and at other online retailers for a better price.
Jeff happens to be a good guy and we have done business together for many years so he is not easily offended when I go all ape shit on him. The fact of the matter is I found them on ebay and at this online retailer for half the cost, but I have no idea what size frame and adjustments I’m going to need. Jeff knows that I’m going to come back and give him the business. He also knows that I’m going to try and beat him down on the price until I’m either blue in the face or in handcuffs.
I had to purchase new contact lenses and was told that I should replace my eye glasses as well. I use contacts as my primary aid for sight and only use glasses between the hours of 8pm until I go to sleep. However, I was told that I should give my eyes a rest by wearing glasses more often. Looking at glasses I discovered the reason why I haven’t purchased a pair in the last twelve years (yes the glasses that I have been wearing in the evenings are twelve years old and have a twelve year old script in them), it's because there are to many styles to choose from and I can’t make up my damn mind. After trying on about 22 pairs, I settled on this nice little number from Marchon. A very nice simple rimless titanium frame that will blend in nicely. People won’t see the glasses coming, only me.
$350, what the hell. I said to the guy “Jeff, these frames DON’T Even have a frame, they have a freaken lens with a couple of things attached to it so they stays on my face.” After he stopped laughing at me he told me that I could choose from this area over “there” were the frames are about $149. I looked briefly and concluded that the $149 Elton John look was not for me. I ordered my contacts and told Jeff that when I come back to pick them up I will probably take the Marchon’s, but only after shopping on ebay and at other online retailers for a better price.
Jeff happens to be a good guy and we have done business together for many years so he is not easily offended when I go all ape shit on him. The fact of the matter is I found them on ebay and at this online retailer for half the cost, but I have no idea what size frame and adjustments I’m going to need. Jeff knows that I’m going to come back and give him the business. He also knows that I’m going to try and beat him down on the price until I’m either blue in the face or in handcuffs.
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
Oh Sh*t
Did you ever have one of those days where you just knew that staying in bed was the better choice?
Sometimes you just feel like giving the one finger salute to the world because it feels like everyone in it has just one objective (refer to picture).
But
I will have my revenge, oh yes my actions will be swift and discreet.
Monday, November 20, 2006
Chop Chop
So I finally had the surgery to remove the Basil Cell Skin Cancer from my ear this past Friday. I mentioned in an earlier post that the procedure the doctor was going to use to remove the cancer was called Mohs. They essentially slice the infected area then freeze the removed piece and slice it into very thin layers to analyze the tissue. If they find that no cancer exists in the bottom layer than you’re done, but if they find that the cancer still exists they will cut deeper. The time between cuts takes approximately 1 ½ hours; I had to be cut twice, so that meant that I was there for a little over 3 hours.
The whole experience was quite comical. My mother went with me because the doc said that I shouldn’t drive after the procedure. I'm not sure which was more dangerous, my mothers driving or the surgery. My wife stayed home to be with Amanda and to relax in her ninth month of pregnancy. I wish I had brought my video camera because the experience was laugh out loud hilarious, even though I didn’t make a peep in fear that I met get thrown out. You basically go to the doctors office where everyone in the waiting room is there for the same surgery, on different parts of their body of course. So it was 7am and people start to trickle into the waiting room. I would have to say that there were about 18 patients there when all was said and done. They all looked healthy and fine, a bit older. I must have been the youngest by at least 35 years. Again, everyone looked fine. All of a sudden the nurse starts to call us back one-by-one (I was the second called). You go back to where they perform the surgery, they take a picture of your ear, audio document it, analyze it, numb it, cut it, cauterize it, bandage it, then send you back into the waiting room for about an 1 ½ hours so that they can check the tissue. So again, I was the second one called back which meant that I was the second to return to the waiting room. The funny part was, me included in this, everyone that appeared healthy just 20 minutes ago started to return with bandages all over their faces obviously without various parts of their body. It was absolutely hilarious, you walk through this door looking spiffy and you come out looking like Frankenstein. People had multiple bandages on their face, some on their head, nose, ear (me), neck, cheek and brow. There were wives looking at their husbands and husbands looking at their wives thinking “Wow, your hideous, you’re not riding home in the same car as me”, they each grinned at each other and waited to see if they would be called back for a second round of slicing and dicing. Again, husbands praying for their wives and wives praying for their husbands not to have to go back to get butchered.
The Mohs surgery is probably the best procedure for skin cancer because there is very little scaring if done correctly, and this doctor did know what he was doing; he had the 3,576 diplomas, certificates and citations hanging on the wall to prove it. I asked him which frame smith he was keeping in business. I also asked him to stop cutting if he saw daylight on the other side of the wound.
They didn’t prescribe me any pain medication, damn, so I just took 800mg of Motrin to take the edge off. It’s Monday and I’m feeling great.
The whole experience was quite comical. My mother went with me because the doc said that I shouldn’t drive after the procedure. I'm not sure which was more dangerous, my mothers driving or the surgery. My wife stayed home to be with Amanda and to relax in her ninth month of pregnancy. I wish I had brought my video camera because the experience was laugh out loud hilarious, even though I didn’t make a peep in fear that I met get thrown out. You basically go to the doctors office where everyone in the waiting room is there for the same surgery, on different parts of their body of course. So it was 7am and people start to trickle into the waiting room. I would have to say that there were about 18 patients there when all was said and done. They all looked healthy and fine, a bit older. I must have been the youngest by at least 35 years. Again, everyone looked fine. All of a sudden the nurse starts to call us back one-by-one (I was the second called). You go back to where they perform the surgery, they take a picture of your ear, audio document it, analyze it, numb it, cut it, cauterize it, bandage it, then send you back into the waiting room for about an 1 ½ hours so that they can check the tissue. So again, I was the second one called back which meant that I was the second to return to the waiting room. The funny part was, me included in this, everyone that appeared healthy just 20 minutes ago started to return with bandages all over their faces obviously without various parts of their body. It was absolutely hilarious, you walk through this door looking spiffy and you come out looking like Frankenstein. People had multiple bandages on their face, some on their head, nose, ear (me), neck, cheek and brow. There were wives looking at their husbands and husbands looking at their wives thinking “Wow, your hideous, you’re not riding home in the same car as me”, they each grinned at each other and waited to see if they would be called back for a second round of slicing and dicing. Again, husbands praying for their wives and wives praying for their husbands not to have to go back to get butchered.
The Mohs surgery is probably the best procedure for skin cancer because there is very little scaring if done correctly, and this doctor did know what he was doing; he had the 3,576 diplomas, certificates and citations hanging on the wall to prove it. I asked him which frame smith he was keeping in business. I also asked him to stop cutting if he saw daylight on the other side of the wound.
They didn’t prescribe me any pain medication, damn, so I just took 800mg of Motrin to take the edge off. It’s Monday and I’m feeling great.
Friday, November 03, 2006
Calm
I was sitting on my back porch last night while the children were asleep, taking a break from the craziness of life. I settled into my patio chair which was a bit chilly, it sent a sudden shiver up my spine, but quickly disappeared. The November air was cool and smelled of burning hickory. I listened while the winds sent the leaves on their journey to another yard. The sky was extraordinarily dark which made the evening stars appear a bit more spectacular than normal. I took a deep breath filling my lungs with the icy air, it made me feel good, alive; it was almost comforting, I exhaled. So here I am I thought, 35 years of age living the life that I hadn’t planned on living.
Hmmm, it’s a better one.
Hmmm, it’s a better one.
Monday, October 23, 2006
I'm Skipping October 2007
The first picture is of the three stiches that were needed after I cut myself with a child proof letter opener, genius.
The second picture is of a little skin cancer that my daughter Eli made me aware of a couple of weeks ago and was just diagnosed on yep, Friday the 13th. The picture makes it look worse than it really is. I was told that if I was going to get cancer, this was a good one to get. Ok, I guess I'm relieved. I suppose that there are many types of cancer that makes a statement like that appropriate. They are scheduling me for Mohs surgery which is basically slicing of the cancer layer by layer and analyzing the tissue until no more cancer is present.
My wife would like me to jump into a bubble and stay there. Can you blame her?
Friday, September 22, 2006
I Blinked
What the hell happened to me? All I can remember is on the evening of April 20th I went to sleep dreading the fact that tomorrow was going to be my 35th Birthday. The morning came and nothing out of the ordinary happened. But here I am today 20 pounds heavier. Since My birthday it seems that my metabolism slowed and the crap that I normally eat hangs out with me a bit longer. People tell me that it doesn’t appear that I gained any weight, but than there are those who make the comment of how nice it is for me to be pregnant with Robin. What the hell does that mean? Anyway, my eating habits are not primo, which probably has something to do with stress and my exercise routine of lifting a cup of coffee to my lips along with curling a doughnut in the same manner. However, it was my friends’ 40th b-day last week and as a gift to him me and a few buds went on a 24 mile bike ride with him (he’s a big cyclist) which yes, I did finish. He wanted to do 40 but my friends and I agreed that it was too early for our wives to spend the life insurance money.
So what did happen? Why is it that all of a sudden I’m gaining weight when my entire life to this point I was a stick?
I feel the need to buy a new leather jacket and a very red sports car.
So what did happen? Why is it that all of a sudden I’m gaining weight when my entire life to this point I was a stick?
I feel the need to buy a new leather jacket and a very red sports car.
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
Quick Question
How in the hell does someone publish a Winnie the Pooh cook book and get away with calling it "Cooking with Pooh"?
Saturday, August 12, 2006
Still Around
Sorry all for not keeping up my blog lately. Everything is great. We are going on vacation tomorrow for the week and will have my sister-in-law house sit. Hopefully the vacation will help me energize that writer battery that I think I have which I know I don't.
Robin's looking very pregnant and has that glow to her. Maybe if I'm good she'll let me post some pictures from vacation.
Robin's looking very pregnant and has that glow to her. Maybe if I'm good she'll let me post some pictures from vacation.
Tuesday, May 23, 2006
Me
It appears that many of my blogging buddies have created a South Park character in their liking. It also occurred to me that after working on my own that there wasn't enough choices in the parts department with flaws that would help the character resemble me.
This is the best that I can do.
Wednesday, March 29, 2006
Very Funny.........Ha Ha!
Holy Shit………Really, I mean HOLY SHIT!
These past couple of months have been quite interesting to say the least. It felt as if god was telling a joke and I was the butt of it. The joke wasn’t a one liner either, this joke took time to develop and at the end, it wasn’t even funny. Let’s just say that when the day comes that my ticker decides to stop telling the time is the day that I make it up to heaven just to be sent straight to hell for putting a whoopee cushion on gods chair just to get back at him. It wouldn’t be complete justice, but hey where talking about god here, there really isn’t much you could do to him.
It’s been a little while since the last time I blogged. My last message to you all was that I was still alive; usually when someone says that, it means that they are still around just a bit distracted or preoccupied. What you all didn’t know was that I was literally thankful to be alive.
I’m going to be 35 next month, but it’s not going to come easy as one would expect. I’m thinking of crawling into a room made of Nerf, locking the door and eating only pudding for the next 3 weeks so that I don’t choke on anything.
About two months ago I discovered a lump that had me a bit concerned because cancer runs deep in my family. After a week of struggling to keep it to myself because I didn’t want to alarm anyone I went to the doctors to find out that it wasn’t cancer, but something that would eventually go away without surgery. During that same time I started to have chest pains and terrible heartburn. Did I forget to mention that heart disease runs in my family too? Yep that’s right if you’re looking for bubonic plague, malaria, or something exotic that makes your flesh melt, I bet I can find someone in my family who had it, shingles anyone? So, I just recently went to the cardiologist because my wife, mother and close friend wouldn’t shut up about it. The doc gave me a stress test which I found pretty interesting since it requires taking a bunch of pictures of your heart, attaching electrodes to your body, running on a treadmill until your heart gives out, taking more pictures and getting injections of this stuff that is billed as radio active before, during and after the treadmill sprint. What the hell is up with that anyway? Didn’t people build shelters to avoid being exposed to nuclear fall out if nuclear war should happen upon us, and here I am having some guy who specialized in nuclear medicine injecting this stuff into my body three times. What ever, I’m stressing just thinking about it. Hey honey looks what glowing tonight.
The doctor calls me back after the test to tell me that everything looks fine and that I passed. Thanks do I get a sticker? No, of course not. I need to make an appointment with a GI guy so that he can scope my esophagus, which means that they are going to put me to sleep and stick a camera down my throat to see what the hell is going on inside there; that’s in May.
Thank god I have good healthcare. I’m convinced now that I’m not going to die anytime soon because god is having too much fun. However when things were looking a little bleak I managed to buy my wife a new car and completely re-carpet the house.
to be continued.......
These past couple of months have been quite interesting to say the least. It felt as if god was telling a joke and I was the butt of it. The joke wasn’t a one liner either, this joke took time to develop and at the end, it wasn’t even funny. Let’s just say that when the day comes that my ticker decides to stop telling the time is the day that I make it up to heaven just to be sent straight to hell for putting a whoopee cushion on gods chair just to get back at him. It wouldn’t be complete justice, but hey where talking about god here, there really isn’t much you could do to him.
It’s been a little while since the last time I blogged. My last message to you all was that I was still alive; usually when someone says that, it means that they are still around just a bit distracted or preoccupied. What you all didn’t know was that I was literally thankful to be alive.
I’m going to be 35 next month, but it’s not going to come easy as one would expect. I’m thinking of crawling into a room made of Nerf, locking the door and eating only pudding for the next 3 weeks so that I don’t choke on anything.
About two months ago I discovered a lump that had me a bit concerned because cancer runs deep in my family. After a week of struggling to keep it to myself because I didn’t want to alarm anyone I went to the doctors to find out that it wasn’t cancer, but something that would eventually go away without surgery. During that same time I started to have chest pains and terrible heartburn. Did I forget to mention that heart disease runs in my family too? Yep that’s right if you’re looking for bubonic plague, malaria, or something exotic that makes your flesh melt, I bet I can find someone in my family who had it, shingles anyone? So, I just recently went to the cardiologist because my wife, mother and close friend wouldn’t shut up about it. The doc gave me a stress test which I found pretty interesting since it requires taking a bunch of pictures of your heart, attaching electrodes to your body, running on a treadmill until your heart gives out, taking more pictures and getting injections of this stuff that is billed as radio active before, during and after the treadmill sprint. What the hell is up with that anyway? Didn’t people build shelters to avoid being exposed to nuclear fall out if nuclear war should happen upon us, and here I am having some guy who specialized in nuclear medicine injecting this stuff into my body three times. What ever, I’m stressing just thinking about it. Hey honey looks what glowing tonight.
The doctor calls me back after the test to tell me that everything looks fine and that I passed. Thanks do I get a sticker? No, of course not. I need to make an appointment with a GI guy so that he can scope my esophagus, which means that they are going to put me to sleep and stick a camera down my throat to see what the hell is going on inside there; that’s in May.
Thank god I have good healthcare. I’m convinced now that I’m not going to die anytime soon because god is having too much fun. However when things were looking a little bleak I managed to buy my wife a new car and completely re-carpet the house.
to be continued.......
Thursday, March 02, 2006
He's Alive, Alive I Say
Ok ok, I’m hear and alive. I’ve been so consumed with everything else lately that I kind of put my blog on the back burner. Sorry to everyone who I left hanging but thanks to those who’ve been checking up on me to make sure that I am still enjoying the land of the living.
All is well at home. My five year old Elizabeth is starting to read and enjoys reading her short books to Amanda. James my 3 year old is doing well in school and is really enjoys playing with his little sister. We just can’t get him potty trained and it’s driving me nuts. Amanda is almost 2 and doing very well. She is starting to sign and is very mobile. She has developed such a personality over the last couple of months that she is actually a little person now. My wife is in school to become a physician’s assistant and is holding straight A’s in both her biology and anatomy / physiology classes. As for me, my life doesn’t change much and is as pathetic as it was the last time I posted:) I’m getting tired and in need of a vacation but I know that it won’t come until the summer. I just want to lay on the beach and listen to the waves crashing against the sand while a gentle breeze blows. I yearn for that first shower of the day after I walk in from the beach to get all the sand off (you know the one I’m talking about.).
I’m not depressed even though it may sound like it. I’ve just been nursing my left foot that I had minor surgery on and am coming of the amazing journey I had with my very best friend Mr. Percisett a.k.a. Pain Killers.
So I’m alive and well and looking forward towards an even better day tomorrow.
Cheers.
All is well at home. My five year old Elizabeth is starting to read and enjoys reading her short books to Amanda. James my 3 year old is doing well in school and is really enjoys playing with his little sister. We just can’t get him potty trained and it’s driving me nuts. Amanda is almost 2 and doing very well. She is starting to sign and is very mobile. She has developed such a personality over the last couple of months that she is actually a little person now. My wife is in school to become a physician’s assistant and is holding straight A’s in both her biology and anatomy / physiology classes. As for me, my life doesn’t change much and is as pathetic as it was the last time I posted:) I’m getting tired and in need of a vacation but I know that it won’t come until the summer. I just want to lay on the beach and listen to the waves crashing against the sand while a gentle breeze blows. I yearn for that first shower of the day after I walk in from the beach to get all the sand off (you know the one I’m talking about.).
I’m not depressed even though it may sound like it. I’ve just been nursing my left foot that I had minor surgery on and am coming of the amazing journey I had with my very best friend Mr. Percisett a.k.a. Pain Killers.
So I’m alive and well and looking forward towards an even better day tomorrow.
Cheers.
Monday, December 12, 2005
Fun In The Snow
It was a mild winter night, the wind was calm, the snow was falling and the lights from the street were illuminating the snow in our backyard. It was a perfect evening to take the children out for some fun. We put on our boots, gloves hats and scarves; it was as if we were preparing for battle. There was approximately 5 inches of virgin snow in our yard that was beckoning for our presents. We carefully stepped down from our deck and into the snow; I had to hold James’ hand since he is three and the depth of the snow made it difficult for him to maneuver. Once we reached our destination the decision was made that a snowman was to be born. We went to work starting out with little snow balls, rolling them around the yard until they were the perfect size. While I was making the base my daughter Elle was making the snowman’s mid section, while James was attempting to make the head, but it was difficult for him since he was wearing mittens and not gloves like his sister and me. Mommy and Amanda were looking out from the house while we were attempting our first snowman of the season. The base and midsection were done and placed on top of each other; it was now time to help James who had been struggling do to his age, height and mobility. We all pitched in and the snowman’s head was ready. I placed the head on top of his body and reinforced it with a little snow were his head and midsection came together. All that our creation needed was a face. I asked Elle to go inside and get a carrot for his nose and some broccoli for his eyes. Mommy knew what she needed and was standing prepared by the door. His face almost didn’t make it. Elle came back down into the yard and informed me that she was hungry and asked me for permission to eat what was to be his face. I obviously said no and told her that we would go inside after we were done to have macaroni and cheese; that seemed to satisfy her. I made little holes for the eyes and nose, gathered a couple of twigs for his mouth and had the kids assemble his face. Our snow man was born and then died three seconds later. My son who had been watching football with me earlier that day decided that he was a linebacker and tackled the snowman to the ground. Nothing was left. That’s when the snowball fight broke out. We all reached into the snow to arm ourselves. I was amazed on how accurate I was, nailing the kids from 20 feet away. They didn’t stand a chance. They tried, they really did, but the force was with me that evening and their fates had already been etched in the snow. James and Elli did hit me a few times, from point blank range, but that was also the time when I thought I was a linebacker and I tackled both of them to the ground. We rolled around laughing and giggling and that’s when the snowball fight ended and the snow angle making began. After we were finished we compared our angles and decided that it was time to go inside to take a warm bath and have dinner.
The kids were tired and slept well that night.
The kids were tired and slept well that night.
Thursday, October 20, 2005
Kids are Strange
The other day in our living room Elle, James, and Amanda decided to have a screaming contest, James won. It was so funny to watch. I think it started when my oldest, Elle screamed for no apparent reason, kids do that you know and usually without warning so the cup of hot coffee you WERE holding is now spread evenly on your new pants that were bought last week and worn for the very first time. Anyway, Elle and James were going at it then Amanda joined in. Amanda is now 18 months and has really developed quite a personality. She’s actually turning into a little person. Elle finally gave up, I think the little vein on the side of her temple told her to stop or else. So then it was James and Amanda, what a hoot. Amanda was grinning from ear to ear just taking in the communication she was having with her brother, if you could call that communication. The kids get along so well and it is always a joy to see them having fun with each other.
I decided to settle everyone down by playing a game of starfish. For those of you who have no clue what this is, you will thank me and may even send me money*. It is a game where you tell your kids to lay on the floor and act like a starfish. Now for all you non-marine biologists out there, starfish barely move and don’t make any noise (well as far as the human ear is concerned), they just lay there looking pretty. If one of your kids should move, you start over again. Works like a charm.
Try it!
Credit Cards and Personal Checks Accepted. Paypal preferred. LOL
I decided to settle everyone down by playing a game of starfish. For those of you who have no clue what this is, you will thank me and may even send me money*. It is a game where you tell your kids to lay on the floor and act like a starfish. Now for all you non-marine biologists out there, starfish barely move and don’t make any noise (well as far as the human ear is concerned), they just lay there looking pretty. If one of your kids should move, you start over again. Works like a charm.
Try it!
Credit Cards and Personal Checks Accepted. Paypal preferred. LOL
Monday, October 10, 2005
My Little Guy
As I mentioned in one of my earlier posts it is customary for the boys in my family to wait till the age of three to get their first haircut. Well, my son whom many have confused with a beautiful girl has turned three and had his haircut yesterday. Before we take him to the barber we throw a big party and invite all of our family and friends over to take a snip. We had over 100 participants at the house to celebrate with us. We made sure that they didn’t butcher James too badly so that the stylist had something to work with later.
Well, his beautiful blond locks are gone, replaced by a MANLY haircut. Where did my little guy go? Without his long hair it looks as if he aged 2 years; he is one handsome dude. His short hair will make my life a little easier, refer to Family Tradition
My wife cooked and baked for the party and did a fabulous job. All the men were loosening their belts while the women were telling each other “all those calories, I can’t eat any more, ok maybe just a little more”. It was quite a feast.
I was holding up pretty well as my son was turning into a little man with every snip of the scissors and then my father-in-law, James’ grandfather walked in to take a cut. The only thing that went through my mind was that I had wished that my father would have been alive to see this moment. I had to excuse myself for a bit, because macho men do not let others see them cry. My father would have been proud.
We had a haircut appointment scheduled for after the party. As we walked into the solon James started to get excited, he wanted a haircut like daddy. Nichole, whom was the stylist did an amazing job transforming my son's hair from butchery (caused by our family and friends) into a work of art. Yes, he looks like me, poor kid.
Elli our oldest daughter did a wonderful job being a big sister the entire day. It must have been difficult for her because all the attention with it’s ooooh and aaaahhs were aimed at James. I spoke with her afterwards and told her how helpful and good she was. I think she appreciated the one on one with me. Amanda, our baby (17 months) did well too. She slept for the first 40 minutes of the party and then woke up happy as can be. My in-laws helped us out by watching her since Robyn and I were busy being social.
All in all a good time was had. A chapter in our life ended that day and a new one began.
Life is grand!
B.
Well, his beautiful blond locks are gone, replaced by a MANLY haircut. Where did my little guy go? Without his long hair it looks as if he aged 2 years; he is one handsome dude. His short hair will make my life a little easier, refer to Family Tradition
My wife cooked and baked for the party and did a fabulous job. All the men were loosening their belts while the women were telling each other “all those calories, I can’t eat any more, ok maybe just a little more”. It was quite a feast.
I was holding up pretty well as my son was turning into a little man with every snip of the scissors and then my father-in-law, James’ grandfather walked in to take a cut. The only thing that went through my mind was that I had wished that my father would have been alive to see this moment. I had to excuse myself for a bit, because macho men do not let others see them cry. My father would have been proud.
We had a haircut appointment scheduled for after the party. As we walked into the solon James started to get excited, he wanted a haircut like daddy. Nichole, whom was the stylist did an amazing job transforming my son's hair from butchery (caused by our family and friends) into a work of art. Yes, he looks like me, poor kid.
Elli our oldest daughter did a wonderful job being a big sister the entire day. It must have been difficult for her because all the attention with it’s ooooh and aaaahhs were aimed at James. I spoke with her afterwards and told her how helpful and good she was. I think she appreciated the one on one with me. Amanda, our baby (17 months) did well too. She slept for the first 40 minutes of the party and then woke up happy as can be. My in-laws helped us out by watching her since Robyn and I were busy being social.
All in all a good time was had. A chapter in our life ended that day and a new one began.
Life is grand!
B.
Wednesday, September 07, 2005
Family Tradition
There’s a custom in my family where the boys don’t get their haircut until the age of three, that’s years. My son James will be turning three this month, which means that we can say bye bye to his beautiful dirty blonde locks. We will invite all our friends and family and have a little party at our house where everyone will be able to take a snip. I’m sure that this sounds a little strange to all of you, it is, but you just don’t mess with family tradition.
Anyway, James is looking forward to his haircut so that he can look more like daddy. I on the other hand love his long hair and wish that he could keep it. He looks like a surfer dude. Having his hair cut will certainly make things easier, like washing his hair, brushing his hair, dealing with knots, and the overwhelming duty of correcting people when they tell me that she is so cute. That last one is frustrating. I find myself calling him “boy” for clarity when ever we go out. Hey boy lets go on the slide, boy come over here, boy it’s time to go home, boy boy boy, HE’S A BOY! We dress him like a boy, his demeanor is all boy, and his voice is BOY. So I wonder what people are thinking when they see my little girl, I mean BOY dressed in BOY JEANS, BOY SHIRTS, and BOY SHOES. They’re probably thinking that I don’t have a son and that I’m compensating by dressing up my daughter as a boy. I’m sorry; he’s a great looking boy, but woof in the girl department.
So why do I bring up this story. Well, I was at the park with James on Labor Day and we were on the big blue slide, he was ready to come down when another kid was trying to walk up the slide. The kid’s father said wait, let her (my son) come down first. I corrected him and he apologized, I said it happens all the time. THEN, I said your son looks to be about my son’s age, how old is he? He said that his DAUGHTER was three. What an awkward moment of silence.
What Goes Around Comes Around.
Anyway, James is looking forward to his haircut so that he can look more like daddy. I on the other hand love his long hair and wish that he could keep it. He looks like a surfer dude. Having his hair cut will certainly make things easier, like washing his hair, brushing his hair, dealing with knots, and the overwhelming duty of correcting people when they tell me that she is so cute. That last one is frustrating. I find myself calling him “boy” for clarity when ever we go out. Hey boy lets go on the slide, boy come over here, boy it’s time to go home, boy boy boy, HE’S A BOY! We dress him like a boy, his demeanor is all boy, and his voice is BOY. So I wonder what people are thinking when they see my little girl, I mean BOY dressed in BOY JEANS, BOY SHIRTS, and BOY SHOES. They’re probably thinking that I don’t have a son and that I’m compensating by dressing up my daughter as a boy. I’m sorry; he’s a great looking boy, but woof in the girl department.
So why do I bring up this story. Well, I was at the park with James on Labor Day and we were on the big blue slide, he was ready to come down when another kid was trying to walk up the slide. The kid’s father said wait, let her (my son) come down first. I corrected him and he apologized, I said it happens all the time. THEN, I said your son looks to be about my son’s age, how old is he? He said that his DAUGHTER was three. What an awkward moment of silence.
What Goes Around Comes Around.
Monday, September 05, 2005
Salesman Wanted
I would like to put out the word that I am looking for the salesman that sold Mattel the idea of using those little plastic twist ties that they use in all their packaging now. You know, those darn things that secure the item to the box to make it more difficult for shoplifters. What ever happened to the good ol’ days when you were able to buy your child a toy and they could open it up THEMSELVES and play with it? NOW it’s a whole process. You get the kid the toy, lets say a Barbie, and they open the box and realize the thing is more secure than Fort Knox. They attempt to remove the Barbie from the box, ripping everything around the doll and making a huge mess, and then they call you in for back up. You take the toy and proceed with the rescue mission realizing that you have a monster inside you that wants to take the Barbie back to Mattel and beat some executive senseless with it. I can usually manage without much frustration when it’s just one toy, but when you throw your kid a birthday party and you have about fifteen items that need this special attention, that’s when I lose it.
I’ve decided that I’m going to start collecting these little twist ties till I have enough to secure an actual human. I will find that salesman and secure him to his car in the same manner Mattel secures their Barbie line; the wrists to the steering wheel, both feet to the gas peddle, the waist to the back of the chair and the neck and hair to the head rest. I will have him towed to his house, where I will fasten a red bow to his head. I will honk the horn and present him to his family as an early birthday gift.
If the salesman that I am referring to happens upon this blog, just know, I’M COMING FOR YOU!
P.S. Mr. Saleman, since I am the owner of a company that is always looking for good salespeople, I may give you a chance to redeem yourself by working for me. I figure that if you could sell those little plastic things, than you could certainly sell media. Warning: If you don't perform, you will be towed with all the trimmings!
I’ve decided that I’m going to start collecting these little twist ties till I have enough to secure an actual human. I will find that salesman and secure him to his car in the same manner Mattel secures their Barbie line; the wrists to the steering wheel, both feet to the gas peddle, the waist to the back of the chair and the neck and hair to the head rest. I will have him towed to his house, where I will fasten a red bow to his head. I will honk the horn and present him to his family as an early birthday gift.
If the salesman that I am referring to happens upon this blog, just know, I’M COMING FOR YOU!
P.S. Mr. Saleman, since I am the owner of a company that is always looking for good salespeople, I may give you a chance to redeem yourself by working for me. I figure that if you could sell those little plastic things, than you could certainly sell media. Warning: If you don't perform, you will be towed with all the trimmings!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
