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What's "Daddy's blog"? Let's just say I've had to hold back quite a few times from saying what I really wanted over on the kids' blog.      
  Parental Advisory
I am not using this as a soap box, although I reserve the right to should the topic evoke such an opnion where I feel the need to pound the pulpit.  So, if you don't want to read an occasional or frequent profanity, this probably isn't the place for you.  You had to request a password to get here anyway, so you must not be too easily offended.  

Daddy's Blog


April 3, 2012

Let me paint the scene for you...  We're 25 minutes into an eventual 45 minute wait for this water slide at the Wilderness in the Wisconsin Dells and Dominic informs me that he REALLY has to pee.  Of course, I told him to hold it.   I wasn't going to waste the time we just spent in line to get out of line to let him pee.  I whispered in his ear, "You can just go as soon as you sit down on the raft."  Well, another 20 minutes passed, and we were at the top level of 3 such landings in this staircase to get to the top of the slide, with one group in front of us before it was our turn and Dominic let loose, instantly crying, "Daddy, I'm peeing!"  I stood and stared in horror and embarrassment as a flood of urine flowed out of his swim trunks, down his legs, over his toes, and through the planks of the landing on which we stood...trickling through...all over the unlucky waterpark visitors below.  I said what anyone would say, "Stop!"  His response, as expected from a kid with a bursting bladder and excitement to ride a scary waterslide, "I can't!".   Anyone who knows Dominic, knows the kid has a bladder like no other, with the ability to pee for a WHILE.  So, it was a lot more than just a couple drips on the folks below.  Our only saving grace was that we were next in line.  I never turned around to see our line neighbors' reactions to the warm puddle left on the deck behind us.  I am sure they are telling the same story, but with a different tone today.  Oh well...one for the books...or the blog, that's for sure: The day Dominic peed on several unsuspecting people, then had the time of his life seconds later. 

November 30, 2011

So, I got called out by a 6 year old last night. I was at the Blackhawks game with Dominic, just kidding around with him every time the "ice girls" skated out on the ice in their little skirts and shirts. So, after a few rounds of jabs and comments, he finally came back with, "Daddy, do you like the ice girls more than Mommy?" Of course I defended myself and said, "No, of course not." but I was a little surprised that he would have thought that. 

On another note, I thought I'd share this video of the National Anthem at the Blackhawks game, too.  If you haven't experienced it, you should.  Maybe it's the strong patriotism in me...but the way they do it at the United Center for 'Hawks games is the best I've ever heard or seen.  It has sparked some controversy as being disrespectful to be cheering and clapping during the anthem, but I disagree.  Any enthusiasm during the anthem is as much a sign of patriotism to me as silence would be.  Isn't this better than the low drum of a few people butchering it while the rest stand silent, just wanting their sporting event to begin?  I think so.  Throw in the moment of silence for Maggie Daley (former First Lady of Chicago who died just days before) where you could hear a pin drop despite over 21,000 in attendance, and it was that much better. Enjoy...

From November 2011

November 15, 2011

Lia's comment this past weekend that "Jesus is allergic to oranges" initially prompted me to see if there was any known connection between higher beings and citrus....which in some way inspired me to see what other foods and/or objects Jesus has been known to appear in to faitful followers...aka..."pareidolia" or finding significance in something otherwise deemed insignificant.  Here's what I've discovered.  The concept that God is all around us is right.  Jesus is everywhere. A quick search returned the orange as seen in yesterday's post ( I just googled "Jesus Orange" in case you were wondering ), countless pieces of toast, at least one grilled cheese, countless tortillas and tortilla chips, which one could argue is the same as toast...south of the border, multiple stains on walls, a couple other random objects and the best by far....a dog's butt.  Of course Jesus' mother is far more prolific in her apparitions, including the now famous (if not infamous) water stain under the Kennedy on Fullerton Ave. in Chicago.  Where have YOU seen Jesus?  If you can top a dog's butt, I'll post it here.   


November 14, 2011

I was not there to witness Lia's great proclamation about our Lord and Savior's allergy to oranges, but I guess it just goes to show that even God makes mistakes, right?  I just had to share this story as well, given the irony compared to Lia's statement that "Jesus is allergic to oranges."  Jesus Christ = Jesus Citrus? 

Citrus Jesus

March 15, 2011

Anthony's revolutionary vision of a world without banana peels is real.  OK, so I slightly glorified the situation.  This is how it happened.  He wanted a banana and tried to peel it himself, but it was one of those bananas that just wouldn't budge.  So he proceeded to mangle the top of the banana without breaking the top off.  I cut that portion off, gave it too him and he pitched a fit.  So, I peeled another banana for him, then handed it to him which was followed by his response, "You know Daddy, we won't have to peel banans in the future."  My question was, "Why?  Do you think they will grow without peels in the future?"  He said with all honesty, "No, we'll have robots to do that for us." 

Since the Jetsons imagined a world with flying cars and maid robots in the early 60's that have never become a reality (as far as I know) I think Anthony may have to invent that banana-peeling robot himself if he wants to enjoy that luxury.   

February 4, 2011

Yes, we survived the Glizzard of 2011.  Lia repeatedly referred to it as the "Glizzard", so that's what it became known as in our house.  Other names we heard mentioned over the past few days include...

Blizzard of Oz
Snowtorious B.I.G.
Kaiser Snowze
Snowdiggigity Snowdrizzle Snowfizzle
Snowman's Land

November 11, 2010

OK, lately Dominic uses this phrase, "my brain tells me to do it" when he has no better excuse for being naughty.  My response is usually something about he controlling his brain and not the other way around, then it struck me...what if this notion of his brain telling him to do things naughty is actually voices in his head telling him to do things and he perceives it as his brain talking to him?  Huh?  OK, hopefully not, but it still kinda funny and creepy nonetheless.

This reminds me of an equally creepy parenting method I used the other day when we were getting ready for a big ol' family trip to IKEA as part of "Project Declutter 2010".  We typically go to IKEA a couple times a year for shelving, storage and other do-it-yourself cheap organizational stuff.  So, as we were getting ready I told Dominic we couldn't buy any more stuffed animals or "stuffies" as he calls them.  My reasoning was this...  I'll tell it exactly like I told him. 

If we buy any more stuffed animals, then we will be outnumbered by a ratio of nearly 4 to 1 and in the unlikely event that our house is either infested by a poltergeist or posessed by a demon, we will not have a chance against all the evil stuffies that will try to kill us in our sleep.    Too harsh?  Too graphic?   Nah.  it worked.  We didn't buy any more IKEA "stuffies".  No questions asked.  The expression on his face as he glanced at his "stuffies" then back at me was priceless. 

August 30, 2010

Yes, technically I am slightly making fun of little Lia's tendancy to stutter when she gets ahead of herself, but it is so damn cute, it's worth remembering...assuming she stops stuttering.   If not, it might be kinda mean looking back on it. 

May 5, 2010

Here's another REAL explanation of an otherwise simple story according to the kids.  The kids were "camping" in the back yard with the beach tent.  Just playing with their toys, laying around in the tent when Dominic got up and started to walk to the more secluded corner of our yard.  I asked him what he was doing.  He said, "Nuttin".  Red flag right there, buddy.  I said, "What do you mean by nuttin'?  You're going to pee in the corner again, aren't you?"  He gave me the guilty grin and I told him to go in the house.  He didn't, but he didn't go in the corner either. 

A few minutes later, I hear Carrie scream that she needed my help so I went in and Anthony was there saying Dominic had pooped in the yard.  I really didn't believe it, but I went out and interrogated the suspect again.  He said he didn't do it.  I said I needed to know so I could clean it up.  So he walks me in the direction that I expected pointed at the ground in the farthest corner and sure enough...there is was.  I'll spare you the details, but lets just say the boy is well fed.  I scolded him and headed back to the garage for the pooper scooper that I had just used to clean up the other animals poop.  2 minutes later, I was too late.  There is Lucy finishing off the remaining evidence like a ravenous beast. 

Moral of this one:  Never leave a pile of poo unattended with 2 dogs around.  Oh, and make sure a kid goes to the bathroom when he threatens to use nature's toilet a few minutes before.  Animals!

April 7, 2010

So, here's how it REALLY happened.  Carrie had to go to Miami (what a shame) today for a case she is trying to settle.  That left me playing Mr. Mom.  No problem.  I can handle it.  The kids were good.  Seemed like a good night, overall.  We talked to Carrie on the phone before the kids went to bed and Dominic played the Deh-ri-kit Rittow Frower (read "Delicate Little Flower" with a stereotypical, incredibly non-PC asian accent) routine saying his tummy hurt.  It's a South Park reference, alright.  Leave me alone.  Anyway, I didn't believe him, but it wouldn't have made a difference.  

Fast forward a little bit to about 9:45 PM.  I talked to Carrie just to say goodnight and the such and literally as soon as I hung up, I heard the sound.  THE telltale sound that is familiar to all parents.  The unmistakable cough, gag, cough sound of a child vomiting....in their bed.  Immediately I knew what I was in for...but not quite to the degree that I was about to discover.  Oh, he threw up alright.  Projectile vomit on the wall...DOWN the wall, and puddled all over his sheet, his blanket, his pillow, a couple other blankets....DOWN the wall, and into the container of Legos below it under the bed.  Where to begin?  I calmly shuffled him to the bathroom where he proceeded to vomit and then informed me that he also pooped his pants.  Oh yeah...rancid diarrhea in his pants.  Still...again...where to begin?  

I stripped his clothes off him and threw them in the tub because I learned that mistake more than once.  Kids' diapers or pants full of crap are a dog's delight!  Hey, I warned you.  Parenting ain't pretty.  So, I left him on the toilet, still going and went to begin cleaning the mess.  Sopping up the vomit first with towels, wiping down the wall, stripping the bed, then I heard it again, only different.  This time, the poor guy had it coming out both ends simultaneously.  No bucket or bowl to catch it, and it still had the force of a frickin' fireman's hose, spewing all over the bathroom, the bathroom wall and out into the hallway.  Luckily the dogs stayed clear.  I finished stripping the bed, balled it up and took it down into the laundry room.  

This was still just too easy.  Yeah right.  Maggie had surprised me with a nice pile of shit and puddle of piss in her usual defiant spot in the family room.  Thanks, bitch.  I'll deal with you (and that) later.  So I dropped off a load of soiled clothes and bedding, returned to the bathroom and helped the pathetic kid get into the tub.  I then asked him, "Dominic, I need to know if you ate a bunch of candy.  Did you?"  With the usual puppy dog eyes, he confirmed my suspicion listing the chocolate, jelly beans and M&Ms he had consumed while I was making his dinner that he didn't eat, of course.  I admit this still doesn't jive with the diahrrea, but I'll worry about that tomorrow.  

So, I cleaned him up, laid him back down, went downstairs and started the wonderful chore of spraying chunks off all the items previously listed.  The utility tub got nice and clogged from all the...umm...material...which I had to pick out of the drain with my bare hands.  Hey, at this point, who cares?  I came back up sat down in bed for a couple minutes, then ihe had another little bout and I gave him a little water to try to settle his stomach.   

Oh, and somewhere between the initial sound and discovering the mess, I called Carrie right back to inform her the wonderful evening she was missing.   I knew she'd want to know, but of course, she felt horrible.  That doesn't negate the fact that she instantly was in debt to me for having to deal with this alone.  No, I don't really think she owes me.  I know she'd do the same, of course.  It's what you do.  It's parenting.  Right?   So, now it's 11:38 and he's had a couple more bouts with an empty stomach and just the little amounts of water I'm giving him to keep him hydrated, but he's alright.  I don't think he'll be going to school tomorrow though, which means one less vacation day for me.  

I'll take that Father of the Year Award now, thank you.  Oh, and Carrie, I'm going fishing on Saturday morning.  

March 14, 2010

2:00 AM began one of my worst times of the year: DST!  The never want to go to sleep at night and they are impossible to wake up in the morning.  Why Dubble-yuh?   Why?  Why did you choose to extend Daylight Savings to start earlier?  WHY? 

For everyone that isn't on Facebook, this is the "hugging" that Dominic was referring to over on the blog.  

He's Hugging Me!

It really was not setup or provoked, so please spare me the comments or calls to DCFS.  It happened.  I had my camera in hand.  I took the picture(s).  Come on!  It's funny.  Just look at Anthony cracking up.  They just kept saying, "He's hugging us!"  OK, so there was one prior to this that was even funnier. 

He's Hugging Me! 
OK, I have to make another disclaimer.  Carrie vehemently opposes me putting these pictures on the Internet, so...try not to mention them to her too much.  Otherwise, enjoy!  You know this is the funniest thing you've seen in a while.  The hands planted on the wall, the grin on Freckles' face.   The paws wrapped around his waist.  I laugh every time I look at it and I took the picture. 

December 7, 2009  

Willing suspension of disbelief.  I've come to the decision that that's what Christmas is all about to kids.  I won't even get into the religious aspect.  I am talking about the secular magical fantastical aspect of flying reindeers, a fat guy that delivers presents to every kid in the world that's on his "list" and now this little elf that they know we bought at our local Barnes and Noble, yet they seem to actually believe possesses the supernatural ability to fly thousands of miles back and forth each night, reporting their behavior.  These are the same kids with enough basis in logic that can tell when we say something that just can't possibly be.  So why do they believe all these crazy notions during the holidays?  Because it's fun and they are willing to temporariily suspend their disbelief of such ideas to the point that it is true to their little minds.  Ah, to be a kid again.  

On a completely unrelated note, this is the 17th anniversary of obtaining my driver's license.  I probably would not remember if it were not on the anniversary of a slighly more significant event which is the attacks on Pearl Harbor, but I do...for that reason.  17 years and only 1 ticket (about a month later).  Not bad, huh?

November 22, 2009  

I'm surprised I haven't received even a single comment about the picture of Dominic with the chicken leg and captions, "I love animals.  They taste great".  I readily admit the phrase was rippd off from a bumper sticker I've seen quite a few times, but I was sitting across the table from him gnawing on the chicken leg with the Brookfield Zoo hat and the phrase immediately came to mind so I told him to hold that pose and snapped a couple pics.  

Tastes Like Chicken!

May 3, 2009  

Wow, I guess I haven't had much to say for a while.  Yesterday was a good day worth bragging about though.  I can honestly say I felt really proud of Anthony's behavior and "performance" at his first T-ball game yesterday.  After a few rough practices, I was a little anxious to say the least.  He thoroughly surprised me though.  Although I do think being given the first chance to wear the catcher gear helped to start the game, he held it together and showed about as much promise as any 5 year old on a baseball field could.  Good job, T-Bone!

November 25, 2008  

Gotta love a 4 year old quoting Travis Bickle.  

Hey, how 'bout them gas prices?  I was just looking back at this blog fromtravis May when we broke the $4 barrier.  Now, here we are 6 months later and it is back below $2 finally for the first time around here.  I know, I know....it's been below $2 everywhere else in the country for a month.  I am not going to count on the price staying this low.  The $3 gas card promotion that Chrysler launched at the beginning of the summer sure doesn't look too attractive now, does it?    

October 10, 2008  

Cubs hating is all the rage now, isn't it?    Ok, maybe not Cubs "hating", but Cubs bashing or general Cubs mockery is definitely reaching the mainstream well beyond the South Side of Chi-Town. Case and point...the Thursday Night Saturday Night Live special last night featured a question from "William" Murrary asking how the candidates would guarantee the Cubs never get swept in the playoffs again.  Obama said "They will lose again...keep right on losing year after year after year..." and that we need to "...wean fans off of supporting the Cubs."  McCain was much more to the point and simply said,  "The Cubs will NEVER WIN THE PENNANT, much less the World Series."  I think I have to agree with both statements.  So, to joint the Cubs-hating bandwagon, I received this image in an email this week, followed by the clip of the debate featuring the Cubs question near the end of the skit:

Go F*** a Goat!


October 9, 2008  

If you are wondering, Lia's hearing checked out as normal as they can determine in a hearing test of a 13 month old.  13 months and 1 day to be exact.  

Ok, so I saw one of the funniest things that I have seen in at least....a week today.  I was in the front yard cutting my rediculously lush autumn lawn tonight when I see a little girl across the street on her razor scooter.  She was floating along effortlessly before I could realize what was happening.  She had a leash in her hand on the handlebar.  On the other end was her dog.  So what did you just imagine?  A Lab?  A Golden?  At least a breed seemingly strong enough to pull...something, right?  Wrong.  It was her little Yorkshire Terrier.  A Yorkie!  A f***ing Yorkie tethered up like a miniature sled dog and it was working.  The poor little thing was struggling and it's front paws were flaiing as it tugged and tugged, but she was humming along and at a reasonable rate.  I wish I could have gotten a picture of it but it still got me thinking....  

Yorkie Power!

Oil Independence?  

Think about it.  Highways full of Yorkie-powered Razor scooters.  Maybe vehicles with big "Yorkie Wheels" under the hood.  Forget about horsepower. Guys would sit around talking about how many "Yorkies" they have under the hood....literally.  Instead of coal, oil, or nuclear power plants, there could be Yorkie farms with millions of little furrry balls of energy powering our homes and businesses.  Just call me a visionary.  Thomas Edison, Nikola Tesla....Tony Graziani.        

Did I mention that I have been drinking heavily tonight?  Jk.  

October 8, 2008  

Yes, I realize the "is not my lover" lyric is slightly creepy when singing to my 1 year old daughter, but it's still cute and hard to resist with the obvious similarity between "Lia Jeanne" and "Bille Jean".  So, that's my self defense to anyone out there that might think it's somehow inappropriate.  Jesus, did I just give some sort of a disclaimer for my kids' blog?  See what it's like to be married to an attorney?  Shut up, Carrie.  

October 6, 2008   -- Random Topic Alert!

Occasionally I find something that most people would look at, have a chuckle, and move on.  I tend to over think some things absolutely rediculous that don't deserve any more thought.  

Exhibit A.

Holy Shit!

First thought:  it can't be real, right?  Wrong.  it is real.  It is no longer produced, but it was.  Second thought:  WTF does pork brains taste like and who the F%&$ eats pork brains.  Is there a particular ethnic group that just can't get enough pork brains?  Do they feel deprived now that it is no longer produced?  Does that group or pork brain eating people live in such a destitute part of the world that even the brains of a pig can't be wasted?  

Then I started thinking about that unbelievable percentage daily allowance of cholesterol.  1170% ?!?   On the plus side, it is a relatively low-calorie snack at only 150 calories for the entire can.  Gee, why don't you have 2?  Maybe you just crave cholesterol but can't quite stomach the nerve center of a swine?  You'd have to eat 16 large eggs to match the cholesterol rich goodness of one 150 calorie can of Armour Pork Brains in Milk Gravy and you'd be consuming far more calories at roughly 860, not to mention some of the worse gas imaginable.

The only food that I can think of off the top of my head that just doesn't make since (since there are plenty of more disgusting foods that people eat intentionally) is called huitlacoche, also known as "corn smut" or a "Mexican Corn Truffle".  Look it up, but you should probably make sure you've eaten first.  No, I have no idea how I have ever even heard of the stuff.  All I can say is the Internet is a useful and useless place.  

October 6, 2008

I said I wasn't going to say anything more about the Cubs, but it was brought to my attention that the Curse of the Billy Goat is not well known outside of Chicago...at least not with non-baseball fans.  Mostly because of the seemingly randomly placed picture of a goat over on the kids' blog.   I won't go into all the detail, since I dropped a link above telling more than you'll ever care to know, but basically, a bar owner was asked to leave the World Series game at Wrigley in 1945 because his goat was stinking up the place.  On his exit, he cursed the Cubs to lose.  Well, they hadn't won the World Series for 37 years before that and they still haven't won some 63 years later for a total of 100 years.  Sorry if this is terribly boring to all the Cubs fans that are all too familiar with the curse.  

My first thought when I originally heard this story was, pet goats were allowed in Wrigley field as recent as 1945?  WTF?  Did the owner have to buy a ticket for his goat?  I am surprised the Cubs' general management team hasn't seen the untapped potential in a pet section in the bleachers where they can charge a premium over the already lofty ticket prices so pretentious yuppy Lakeview and Lincoln Park "fans" can sit with their designer dogs and the occasional goat or other barnyard animal while taking in a day at the ballpark.  I digress.   The curse is hard to deny even after living here a scant 9 of those 100 years since they won a Series, though.  

However, I have to say it was disgusting to watch a bench full of VERY well paid players sit quietly on the pine as early as the 5th inning of game 3 this past Saturday night as the Dodgers just rolled over them.  For that reason, among many others, I have a very hard time professing myself as a Cubs fan.


Look at the Rays over in the AL.  Second from the lowest payroll in all of baseball and they rather easily kicked the Sox (5th highes payroll in the bigs) out of the playoffs. That's why I am sticking with my Pirates (4th from the lowest payroll).  At that salary level, you know they have to be playing for something other than money.  Now I don't think any MLB player would ever be considered destitute with the league minimum at $390,000 and the average salary this year at just over $2.8 million.  

You know what?  $118 million could give all 7.6 million unemployed people in the U.S. $15.50 to put gas in their car (if they have one) to go look for a job.  Ok, I'll admit that is a little over simplified and hardly realistic, but it's kind of sick to think about.  After all, without the Cubs and Wrigley Field, where would over 3 million people per year go to drink and watch them build up everyone's hopes for an eventual let down?  

October 4, 2008

Cubs, Cubs, Cubs.  I don't have anything else to say about the Cubs.  

So, about this recent love of Ironman...the movie, not the classic Black Sabbath song, although I wouldn't be surprised if the boys like Sabbath considering their love of "bad music".  Wait...didn't I explain the "bad music"?  I can't believe I have not told that story on the blog yet.  I think I have told everyone I know for some reason.  You can skip the next couple of paragraphs if you are one of the many that I have told about the "bad" music".  

So, I have this friend at work that likes to hook me up with all the the latest and greatest underground metal and industrial music because he knows I like a lot of that stuff.  Surprising, though it may be to some, I listen to some pretty hard stuff.  

Bad Music!Anyway, he gave me this CD at the beginning of the summer by a little industrial band named Hanzel Und Gretyl.  It is pretty much like it sounds...a death-metal-like industrial band (from New York, not Germany) with a mixture of English and German lyrics.  There actually is not much cursing in their songs, but a lot of rather violent screams and shouts of refrains such as, "BLOOOOOOOD" and "Das Boot! Das Boot!".  So, I had this CD in my car one afternoon on my way home from work and sure enough it started up when I turned on my car the following morning with all 3 kids in the car.  They could not have heard more than one chord of the music before I could turn it off and they started shouting, "We want that!".  I said it was bad music.  So, of course they wanted it more, asking for it by name...the "bad music".

I figured there were worse things they could listen to, so I let 'em listen.  Before long, it became a requirement in my car in the mornings on the way to day care.  Then I looke back on my rear view one day to see Anthony mouthing the lyrics.  That was disturbing.  I put an end to it shortly after that.  It was a couple of rough morning filled with screaming about the bad music, but they got over it and we haven't listened to it for a while.  I took it out of my CD player, just in case.  

So, that was a nice long tangent started by mentioning Iron Man and Blackironman Sabbath.  Iron Man is definitely the house favorite at the moment, much like Alvin and the Chipmunks was a month ago.  The antagonist of the film eventually dons a large robotic suit with a synthesized voice and repeatedly says, "I'm going to kill you, Tony", referring to Tony Stark, played by Robert Downey Jr, who is Iron Man's alter ego.  So, Dominic tries to mimic the robotic voice, repeating that line when he and Anthony role play as Iron Man and the...uhh....other, bad Iron Man, giving Dominic many opportunities to repeat, "I'm going to kill you, Tony!" in a sinister 2 year old voice.  After the first 50 or 60 times, I realized why it was so creepy.  For one, it's not wonderful to hear your little kid saying your name with regards to killing, then the voice reminds me of Danny, from the Shining, which anyone who has seen it know what I am talking about.  Think, "REDRUM, REDRUM! being screamed by "Tony" the little imaginary boy that lives in Danny's mouth.

I also started thinking that I may be having some strange latent PTSS clayfrom the fact that a childhood neighborhood friend that I played with on a daily basis for the first several years of my life killed his parents and sisters and took his class hostage when we were in high school.  I hadn't talked to him for probably 5 years before the event...and he went to a different school, and got mixed up with drugs, so it's hardly a comparison I should even begin to draw...  But I guess hearing my little guy say, "I'm going to kill you, Tony" creates bad imagery of patricide in my mind.  Maybe I just think too much. Maybe these kids just shouldn't be watching anything with more than a G or PG rating.  That's more likely.

Ahhh, parenting.  

September 21, 2008

It's no secret to anyone that hangs around us very long that Anthony is our challenging one...with Dominic coming in a close second lately.  He imitates everything his older brother does.  Anyway, haircuts have always been a very difficult event for Anthony for a number of reasons.  He doesn't like the itching, or the hair in his mouth, or the buzzing of the clippers just to name a few.  So, we have been warming him up to the thought of another haircut for no less than a month, to which he always replies, "Tomorrow!"  

Many "tomorrows" have come and gone and he was starting to look a bit wooly with his unfortunately inherited densley grown straw-like rat's nest of hair.  Sorry, T-Bone.  So, it started with some coaxing with the promise of a sugary reward in the form of an early season orange icing trimmed mini chocolate cake.  Well, dinner was a battle as always, so we had to use the cake as an incentive to eat even a bite of dinner and remind him that the haircut was imminent.  

We started with a beach towel wrap and a large t-shirt over it tucked all the way down under his toes.  It also start with just scissors.  


Well, with hair like his/ours, scissors just don't cut it...no pun intended.  I cut it as short as I could with the scissors, then had to switch to the clippers.  I could tell he wasn't going to have anything to do with it, so I remembered his swim goggles from his weekly swim lessons.  That helped and let me at least start the real trimming...still with just scissors.    


He got hair in his mouth, so I tried to keep the mood light, making jokes, then wet a paper towel and wiped his tongue.  I was just kidding around and I stuffed it in his mouth.  He thought it was hilarious and realized that as long as his mouth was stuffed with a paper towel, he couldn't  get hair in it.


So, in the end that's ALL it took.  A beach towel, t-shirt, some goggles and a wet paper towel stuffed in his mouth.  Crazy, huh?  All in a day's work in the life of a parent of a particularly strong-willed, stubborn, generally challenging child.  

Most 4.5 year old kids need this much special attention to get their hair cut, right?  

August 10, 2008

Periodically, something comes out of these kids' mouths that just amazes me with it's simplicity due to their innocence.  The last time was when Anthony referred to the "wiggly trees", which turned out to be the appearance of themickey trees when looking through the radiating heat off the grill.  Yesterday, it was the comment about the 2 Mickeys in the Olympic logo.  We see the Olympic rings because we know what it is.  He sees 2 intertwined Mickey Mouses....or is it Mickey Mice?  Either way, you gotta admit that is clever and somehting an adilt would never visualize.  

July 27, 2008

8:35 and they are all officially asleep.  There is a God.  Unfortunately, I can never tell what the magic combination of events was to produce such wonderful results.   I just had to document this night.  Back to work and a little R&R tomorrow.  Whew!  

July 26, 2008

Been a while... I know.  I have to clarify Anthony's 22's comment.  I could not believe that came out of his mouth.  We're walking down an aisle of the Woodfield mall parking lot, when out of nowhere he says, "Daddy, look at those 22's".  I said, "What did you say?" and he repeated it.  It was in proper context and everything.  Now, I have to clarify that he if not necessarily hip to the urban jargon that refers to 22 inch wheels as simply "22's".  He picked it up from the movie, Transformers where the jock at the beginning of the movie comments on the 22's on his Hummer.  That's all it took and he stashed it in his elephantile memory waiting to recall it at just the right moment.  Now, in actuality, I don't think the wheels actually were 22 inchers (more like chrome 18's) but I'm still proud of the fact that they made such an observation, although I am hardly a fan of slapping rediculously huge rims on any vehicle when they almost always decrease performance and ride quality. While I'm on this subject (cars in general and bad aftermarket customization in particular) I have to say something about these damn Pep Boys fender Finger lickin' goodport holes being put on everything from Civics to F150's.  It just bugs the hell out of me.  It is not unlike any of a myriad of past tack-on car accessories, but this one just really bugs the hell out of me.  1953 Buick, yes.  1990 Civic, no.  

Ok, onto something completely different.  I know you've been wondering WTF is up with the picture of the chicken with a beer coming out of it's ass.  I was told on Frirday that I didn't know how to eat chicken.  ...didn't KNOW HOW to eat chicken.  This was due to the fact that Ipeeled the crispy skin off the Popeye's original recipe  chicken breast before I ate it.  I may not know HOW to eat fried chicken according to some people, but I sure as hell know how to cook and eat a whole damn chicken.  Shove an Old Style (or other beer of your choice) up it's butt and grill on low indirect heat for 1.5 hours.  That was dinner tonight.  $3 for a whole chicken to feed 2 people.  Try it.  Google "Beer Can Chicken" if you want more details or recipes.  Hands down the best and easiest chicken to prepare.  Yes, I still peel the crispy, perfectly golden skin off before I eat it.    

June 4, 2008

Yes, Dominic really did step in poo at a Burger King play place somewhere south of Atlanta.  It was pretty disgusting.  Anthony came down and told us right away that there was poop up there, but we figured it was silly kid talk just like, "You're a poopy head!".  So a few minutes passed and sure enough Dominic comes down the stairs with this look on his face walking kind of funny with a brown substance on his little chubby foot.  That's right.  He stepped on a "Whopper" of an entirely different nature.  No grill marks on this patty, but most likely skid marks in the pants of the filthy little animal that left the surprise at the top of the play gym.   So, I immediately grabbed him and headed towards the BK bathroom.  The other parents also rounded up their kids that were playing as Carrie informed the BK manager of the situation.  

Meanwhile I am in the BK bathroom giving Dom a sponge bath with the standard brown paper towels and hand soap.  At first I tried to rinse it off his foot with no luck but smearing a little poopy paint in the sink.  So I resorted to scraping it from his little piggies with the beforementioned brown-paper-bag-like paper towels.  Although I've changed far fewer poopy diapers than Carrie, (yes, I admit it, Carrie) I have still handled my fair share of human feces.  More than enough.  However, there is something especially repulsive about handling some unknown kid's deep southern fried crap (it was about 95 degrees with damn near 100% humidity at the time and this was an outdoor play gym just to paint an even more vivid picture) from your kid's foot in a fast food restaurant bathroom.  I still can't believe neither of us came down with a nasty case of hepatits A or e.coli.  So, needless to say, I am not too fond of those play gym things at fast food restaurants even though it did provide a scant few minutes of run time in the middle of an exceptionally long trip.  I could have boiled my hands in rubbing alcohol and still felt dirty.  Although a disgusting experience in the middle of a long drive, it will at least live in infamy in our family as the day Dominic stepped in some other kids poo and Daddy cleaned it off in the BK bathroom.  
Oh, here's the kicker to the whole scenario... as I am returning from the B-Krapper with Dominic's freshly bathed feet, the manager is directing what I had to assume was one of the burger flippers to clean the excrement from the hot plastic surface with nothing but a rag and a bottle of that all purpose, light blue, diluted surface cleaning solution.   You know, the same stuff they use to wipe down the tables...and the toilets and....now I know...piles of kid crap.  You know you'll think twice before letting you kids play in one of those things again, and certainly think about this the next time you're sinking your teeth into that juicy "Whopper".  Your welcome.  

June 3, 2008

We survived the trip.  A coworker of mine said it perfectly.  "Traveling with kids is a trip.  Traveling alone is a vacation."  This was definitely a trip.  A good trip overall, but definitely not a restful vacation.  Here are a few stats from just the driving to put it in perspective.  

2956 miles total, round trip.  
7 states
154.04 gallons of gas.  
$613.47 in gas.
16 total stops.
~72 juice/milk boxes (over the entire week)
~14 movies watched
0 times asked "Are we there yet?"
1487 times asked, "What you talking 'bout, Mommy?"

Here are the rest of the back seat comments that we wrote down during the trip that were either frequent or just worth remembering.  Yes, we seriously wrote them down.  We thought it would be funny to record the most common complaints, whines and requests.  What else are parents to do with nothing else to listen to for 44 hours total but kids movies and their complaints?

"I have to go potty!"
"I don't want to go potty"
"Where are my shoes?"
"You're not turning it up"
"I can't hear it"
"Turn it up"
"It hurted my ears!"
"It's over"
"It's on again"
"Spiderman skips"
"Why are there cars in the grass?" <-- Referring to the high number of abandoned vehicles through GA and FL
"I'm still hungry"
"My red spiderman!"
"Dropped my spiderman!"
"Lia stole my snake"
"What you talking 'bout, Mommy?"
"I want another juice box"
"It's dempy, Mommy"  <--empty juice box or other container of food
"My lolly-pop has boy juice in it"  <--- No idea what he meant by that
"My owie hurts!"
"It's too fast, Daddy"
"When is the sun going down?" <-- At 1:30 PM during the trip back from FL
"He can't share!"
"It stinks!"
"What's that smell?"

We also played the Spot the States License plate game and found 41 states plus a U.S. Government and a Guam.....yes....Guam.  Beat that!  

May 8, 2008

Alright, this blog is taking a surprisingly political tone that I did not intend. The fact that I am even mentioning anything closely related to politics like the current gas price trend that the candidates are trying to capitalize on as a hot buttton topic, and the Chinese rants.  It all breaks one of my cardinal rules.  The others being money and religion that I avoid discussing at all cost. Well, nobody's reading this so I'll just speak my mind anyway.  

Yes, it's another Chinese observation.  I was just sitting there at the dinnerMotts table, when those entirely and increasingly too common 5 letters were staring me in the face: CHINA.  Was it one of the kids' toys on the table, that I expect to be made in China.  No, it was a food product that they consume on a daily basis.  Candy?  Nope.  It was on the Apple juice.  Good ol' American as Apple...uhh...Juice.  Mott's Apple Juice to be exact. "CONCENTRATE FROM U.S., CHINA and ARGENTINA" was the exact phrase.  I don't even think I need to say much more.  Ok, maybe just a little.  Apple juice concentrate from China.  Why?  Seriously.  If the Chinese quality control in the food industry killed quite a few American pets in the past year, why do we trust ingredients in staple foods that our kids eat and drink?  Will it take a few dead kids from tainted apple juice concentrate?  Yeah, I know it's totally speculative and there is no real reason for such concern, but I am just getting sick of seeing it on everything we buy while the prices of everything continue to rise.  

On a completly different note and more Daddy blog related, let's talk about Anthony's observation at the grill tonight.  Something as simple as rising heat off a grill was totally new and fascinating to him.  Wouldn't it be nice to see the world through kids' eyes like that?  The sad thing is the first thing I thought was, "Woah, did Anthony find some magic mushrooms in our yard somewhere?".  I mean, he said "Daddy, look, the trees are all wiggly".  I had no idea what he was talking about.  So, that leads to the question, why does concetrated rising heat cause visual distortion when looking through the visual path of the heat?  Is it convection?  Would there be as much distorition or "wiggly air" in an arid desert environment without as much humidity in the air?  Nah, air is still substantive without humidity so the true test would be in a vaccuum.  If not convection...then radiation?  Seriously.  I think I need to listen to these kids' innocent ramblings more often.  I just might learn something.  

May 7, 2008

Major milestone today.  $4.06/gallon regular gas at the Shell station down the street from our house.  Well, technically it is $4.05 9/10, but who do they think they're fooling?  We know that 9/10 of a cent is really an extra penny padding the oil exec's pockets.  Just kidding.  Well, upon googling the practice, that actually is not that far from the truth. Anyway, gas prices don't seem to be stopping any time soon, groceries are more expensive than ever405 and we're still giving $3 million to the relief effort in Myanmar for the recent cyclone that swept the country.   Ok, 100,000 people are feared dead and $3 million is pennies to a country with a few trillion dollar annual budget. However, that $3 million could probably feed quite a few hungry Americans that are probably having to decide between feeding their familes sufficiently and putting gas in their car to travel to work to make the money to feed their families...  Who cares what the rest of the world thinks of us.  They all hate us anyway, right?  So I say we do the right thing and keep it all here to focus on this country that is clearly in a downward spiral with no no end in sight.  

April 22, 2008

I have to make a slight correction.  I was back at Lowes buying some other fine Chinese-made hardware when I took a closer look at the flags.  It turns out that the "Made In China" sticker at the top of the pole was for just that....the pole.  The flag had another tag that specifically said "Flag Made in U.S.A.".  So, I stand corrected and I felt less like a communist when I bought that 'Merican made Flag on a Chinese pole.  

April 16, 2008

When I was thinking of the April 14th post, the cartoon below is exactly what I was imagining with regards to the current bandwagon trend to protest China.  It may be hip to protest and oppose Chinese rule in Tibet and China in general, but the fact is that we are now accustomed to the cost of living provided by cheap Chinese products.  Just try to avoid buying anything with the familiar "Made in China" label for one week.  It is nearly impossible.  


If you do manage to avoid purchasing Chinese products for an entire week, chances are you'll pay a significant amount more for those same products, if you can even find non-Chinese-made alternative so some items.  So, all these protesters should probably take a look at themselves...literally.  They might be a little less likely to bitch and moan about the Chinese government's policies, and possibly start a more useful trend,  truly protesting and boycotting China by NOT BUYING Chinese products, thus putting a little pressure on companies sending their operations to the land of General Tso's and Cashew Chicken.

April 15, 2008

Happy Tax Day!  Uncle Sam is buying Daddy a rebuilt transmission in his Mustang!  Thank you, Uncle Sam.  

So we had one of the first big "talks" with Anthony tonight.  No, nothing about birds or bees or veneral disease.  Nice rhyme, eh?  No, this was the big strangers with candy talk. Sickos with an inclination to kidnap sure don't have to try hard, do they?  Having never been told about bad people...because why should a young kid be taught to fear much younger than 4 years old...a truly naive, innocent kid would jump in the car of the first person that offered them anything sweet.  Hell, Anthony would probably jump in someone's car if they offered him to just get in a shiny new car with no strings attached. 

It took about 10 prompts asking the same question to get the right response from him.  After 4 or 5 times (having previously been told the correct answer) asking what he should do if someone drove up and told him he could have some candy if he got in a car, his response was a very honest and logical, "Get in the car and eat the candy".  Scary.  Do I think he really gets the point yet?  No, but at least we started the conversation.   I'll keep pounding it in his head, much like the scare tactics I've resorted to in order to keep him out of the street.  What scare tactics, you ask?  If asked why he should not run in the street, he will answer, "Because I'll look like that stain in the street".  I wished there was a squirrel road kill to use as an example,Doc, It hurts when I pee! but I wasn't so lucky that day.  Sometimes subtle just doesn't work.  So, if he keep asking why he should not take the offer of candy and a car ride, I may have to come up with something equally as blunt.  

Next talk..."Girls with tramp stamps give you painful potty".  Hey, you can't start 'em too young these days.  

April 14, 2008

What is wrong with this picture? 

Made in China!

So I was just about to pick up a new flag at my local Lowes like I do a couple times per year (more on that later).  I consider myself a partiicularly patriotic person and just like to have a clean non-tattered flag that is worthy of flying on the front of my house.  Anyway, as I was pulling it out of it's bin, this little glaring white oxymoron was staring back at me through the cellophane wrapper in which it was packaged. A Chinese-made American flag?  Are you serious?  I looked at all of the other flags in the aisle and every single one of them was made in China?  WTF?  So this led me to believe that either there are no companies manufacturing AMERICAN flags in AMERICA or this publicly traded, 'American" company would rather sell cut-rate Chinese manufactured flags to please it's customers with every day low prices.  Personally, I'd rather buy a flag made in American by Americans and I bet I wouldn't have to buy 2 flags per year either.  Thankfully, upon conducting a search of "american made american flags" I found that there is no shortage of such genuine articles.  So, screw you, Lowes.  I'm buying my flag elsewhere from now on.  I'd encourage you do to the same.  

I feel slightly hypocritical making such a bold comment considering I know that probably 50% of all the goods in my house were made in China or some other sweat shop in a 3rd word country, but there is something about an American flag and everything that it stands for.  It deserves to be purchased, and flown with some principal and meaning.  I am also not one of these new-age activists protesting the Olympic torch running because the games are being held in China, then returning to my mostly Chinese manufactured life.  Maybe all the American owned companies should think twice about shipping their operations to China so we are not so reliant on Chinese-made goods.  Then we wouldn't have such a hard time buying American.    

March 31, 2008

Despite all my tough talk about parenting being so difficult, which it is, I really don't want it to be this way.  i get the feeling that some people might think I enjoy wallowing in self pity due to our current situation with an exceptionally difficult 4 year old, and my dark comedic take on the matter. That couldn't be any farther from the truth.  I'd give anything to have quality time with this kid on a daily basis, as opposed to the fleeting moments in between the fighting at virtually every moment during his waking hours.  I just use this forum to vent a little and try to make light of a increasingly difficult situation.  When does it stop?  I don't think it's too early to start seriously worrying or taking steps to correct the situation.  

You name the disciplinary technique and we've used it.  God help us.  The fact that I even said that speaks volumes.  If anything could drive me to find God, it would be this.  

March 28, 2008

OK, back to the jaded angst.  I am convinced that parenting is just a form of cruel and unusal capital punishment akin to a life sentence that will last 20 or 30 years, and end in my untimely death.  I suppose eventually an inmate comes to accept and somewhat enjoy their imprisonment, right?  At least parenting does not involve any of the dropped soap risks or the chance that you'll get a shiv in the yard.  Well, I guess even that is possible (the shiv, not the soapy assault) with the number of kids growing up to perform matricide and patricide.  Sounds better than "killing mommy and daddy", doesn't it?  Happy Friday!   On a positive note....Go Muskies!  

[One hour later...]

Ok, they are nearly asleep now after an exceptionally difficult Friday night.  No I don't really think my life is like imprisonment, although it can feel that way in the thick of a bad night like tonight.  Throw in another illness that I picked up from work that no less than 7 peope were out with today and it's that much worse.  God?  Seriously.  Send good weather soon!  This is truly the never-ending winter from hell.  Is that an oxymoron?  No.  This is what winter in hell would feel like.  6 months of frozen pipes, flooded basements, kids with cabin fever and one illness after another.  This is a winter I'll never forget.    

March 20, 2008

I thought Daddy's Blog could use a little softening up.  Too much angst and frustration, lately.  That's not ALLLLL that I am about.  So here's the softer side of this Daddy's Blog:

It was 8 years ago today that Carrie and I got engaged. Hard to believe, I know.  Yes, Carrie had to remind me.  Not sure how I could forget that it happened on the first day of Spring, but I guess I won't forget anymore...even though I am a firm believer that after you get married, there is only one significant date that a man must remember.  How many people do you know that have the exact moment they popped the question or received a proposal on film?  Yeah, I am pretty proud of that fact.  I guess some cheeseballs do it publicly at a baseball game on the Jumbotron for the world to see.  Nothing wrong with that, I suppose.  Just not my style.  About the only other possible creatures that might have witnessed my proposal were the squirrels along this particular trail that we were hiiking and maybe a black bear hiding just out of sight considering us for it's post-hibernation spring feast.  

Da' Question   

So, 8 years after that moment, I never imagined I'd be out in da' 'burbs....."burbin' it up" as I like to say, [sitting on a bench outside the boys room listening to them fart and laught at it hysterically]...with 2 dogs, 3 kids, a few fish, a tree frog, the Mustang in my garage and an otherwise pretty good life.  So, to close this post on the soft side...with a little edge...I'll quote a phone system salesman that I went to lunch with recently who referred to his second wife not AS his second wife, but as his "last wife". I don't need to have a second to call her my last.  This one's my first and last, one and only.  

March 19, 2008

So, about those text messaging punks at the movies.  No, wait...I have to make a clarification about yesterday's post.  Someone thought I made typos mentioning 2.93 kids after I claimed 4.93.  The 4.93 was the total household headcount...assuming 2 parents to a house....leaves 2.93 kids.  : P  

Ok, onto the punks.  So, we went to see what was easily the most misleading, disappointing, and utterly pathetic movie we've seen in a theater since Sweet Home Alabama.  You know what, that's not even fair to Sweet Home Alabama.  At least it was true to it's trailer, and delivered what was expected, a cheesy love story chick flick with a predictable ending.  The movie I am referring to is 10,000 B.C.  Wow, what a horrible piece of crap. If anyone saw the trailer, which you can view here, you'd expect an epic Lord of the Rings or Apocalypto type period piece about primitive men hunting Mammoths and defending their Wilmas and Bam Bams from saber tooth tigers.  Right? Seriously, go watch the trailer and come back to this so you see what I am talking about.

Did you watch it?   Ok, so it looks pretty intense, right?  Wrong!  Horrible acting with some sort of stupid British accents that most of the main primitive tribal characters spoke with...in English, of course, (what else would they have spoken 12,000 years ago) except for the other tribes that spoke in their random native tongues.  Carrie pointed out that they all had perfectly whitened teeth and good skin, too.  Oh...and nicely rolled dreadlocks on most of the men.  Sure.  So, there was maybe 30 minutes of what you saw in the trailer.  1.5 scenes with the tiger and 2 scenes with the Mammoths.  The rest was some rediculous, far out, cave man voodoo love story.  It would have been a better film if the main character just clubbed the little blue eyed girl in the head and dragged her back to his cave by her hair in the first 30 minutes of the movie, saving us from the anguish of the rest.  That was not intended to be a blatantly chauvinistic comment, by the way, but more of a throw back to the old sterotypical cave man depictions from Hagar the Horrible or any other similar media.  Simple grunts would have proved more effective and believable than the dialogue in this sorry excuse for a motion picture.  

So, despite not really liking the movie, it was hard to even enjoy watching anything on the big screen with this row of teenage punks in front of us that were constantly texting on their phones.  A little cell phone seems like a thousand watt spot light right in your eye in a dark theater, and there were 2 of them in the row in front of us that did this the entire movie.  Then this little....uhh....."test" (see the first Daddy post below from March 10th) to the left of us joined in during the last 20 minutes or so of the movie effectively blinding us from all angles.  WTF is with the texting?  WTF makes these kids think they are so important that they have to be connected to their other friends that are apparently more important than the ones they are with while their $9.25 rolls by on the screen?  

Oh...about the "WTF"'s.  If you don't know text speak/text messaging lingo, you may want to read up a little, here.  While I am really not that privy to the language either, not being a heavy IM'er or text messager...hence my rant on those that are... I may have to use it a little as well as other creative replacements for expletives so I don't get my site shut down since I am held to slightly tighter control on an ISP hosted site.  Wow, that was quite the run on, sentence, wasn't it.  Most people know WTF, anyway, right?  

After the movie, Carrie and I proceeded to bash everything about the movie that I mentioned above then obviously had to bitch a little about those damn kids in front of us as well.  Man, I sound like a crotchety old fart.  We got to talking about this Gen Y Narcissitic Overly Entitled Self Esteemed (if that is a word) theory.  I won't go on much more about it.  I'll leave it up to you to read up on it yourself, but it is a little scary to think that generation (just behind my generation) with this total lack of respect for just about anything that thinks the world owes them everything will some day be the mainstay working force and leadership?  I gotta think it will just expedite the other theory that we are following in the footsteps of another certain great Empire that nobody probably imagined would fall....but eventually did for much the same reasons that we seemed destined to.  Think togas and gladiators.  

No, you're right...punk kids feeling entitled to have everything and disregard everyone and everything in the process likely won't be the last straw in the American "Empire's" back, but it certainly isn't going to help in another 10 or 20 years when those are the people that should be leading and protecting this country from the many other outside forces eager to crush it, while they just pound their thumbs on their phones pissing off old men like me.  

I don't think I have to explain the last bit that I said I might blog about tonight:  falling apart after 30.  They say you're only as old as you feel and I feel (and as you can see, sound like I'm 60 [sorry Dad]), so that should be enough explanation.  I'm done ranting for today.  The kids are asleep (8:51, Woo hoo!) and I'm right behind them.  Good night.  

March 18, 2008

I am pretty sure I know why the life expectancy for an American in 1900 was only 48.23 years.  Yes, this has to do with kids...of course.  Let's first lay out some commonly held facts.  Kids haven't changed much in the last 100 years.  They are basically the same during the first few years of their lives today as they were 100 and probably 1000 years ago despite the advancements in the environment in which they are raised.  Kids have always been whining and crying and pooping and pushing their limits and generally frustrating parents.  Ok, I won't drag this out too far.  Yes, this comes down to modern medicine.  That's hard to argue.  But, what has modern medicine provided that has extended the lives of Americans and what does it have to do with kids?  For one, the average size of a houshold at about the turn of the 20th century was 4.93...at the same time that the life expectancy was 48.23.  

That's 2.93 kids in a typical house, that I am guessing was smaller than the average American house today.  2.93 kids in tighter quarters during a time without modern medicine.  No blood pressure meds, no anti-depressants, no liquor stores with thousands of choices to numb the pain.  Now, I don't take Lopressor or Prozac or Lexapro or any of the other myriad of drugs that I may end up taking at this rate, but maybe I should.  Maybe I should keep my blood pressure nice and low to the point of nearly passing out to save up for the teenage years, which all of my coworkers that have teenagers claim is worse than having little ones.  Bullshit!  Different, yes.  The same level of stress, maybe, but not more difficult or more stressful.  A teenager may have and may present the possibility for bigger problems, but I'll argue with any parent of a teenager that a 3 year old has more problems than a 13 year old.  

My brother took a toy that I wanted at that exact moment = total meltdown.
I didn't get my fruit snacks fast enough = total meltdown.
I have to get dressed in the morning = total meltdown.  
I can't take my toys into school every morning = total meltdown.
I have to go to sleep = total meltdown.

I could go on.  So, yes I can easily imagine having only 17 years left.  100 or so years ago, I'd be well on my way through middle age right now, as I feel now, and I think kids probably had something to do with it.  

Wow, do I sound cynical and jaded.  I know it.  You don't have to say it.  Do I love my kids?  Of course I do.  They're finally asleep.  Just kidding, but I did just realize at 9:01 PM that the last one finally fell, giving me about an hour to mindlessly flips the channels or surf the net.  So, yes, of course I love these 3 little buggers.  So matter how much screaming and fighting occurs at night time, I always end up kissing them good night and telling them I love them.  It doesn't mean I have to LIKE them all the time though.

I have more to say tonight about movies, text messaging punks, this whole generation 'Y' feeling of entitlement with too much self esteem crap, and why the hell does everything feel like it is just falling apart after 30....but I'll save that ...or some of that for tomorrow or the next night that I can.    

March 10, 2008

Don't get the wrong idea here, folks.  I am not using this blog as a means to just use profane language, tell vulgar stories and vent about the kids.  Yes, a little off all of the above will likely be contained herein (Wow, I've been married to an attorney for too long already) but it won't be all that I blog about. The exceptionally long entry from a month ago about the Northern Illinois shootings would have probably been a little more approriate in this venue, for example, but instead it had to cast a drab shadow on an otherwise funny day from the kids.  

This also might be a better place for a story about how I recently sent a test email to a woman in my office intending to use the subject line, "test" except my pinky finger got a little overly energetic and reached one column over on the keyboard for the middle 2 letters spelling the word...well...figure it out.  Yes, I sent the message before I realized what I had typed.  Yes, I am still employed.  No, I do not have any harrassment suits pending....yet.  If I get enough positive feedback indicating that I don't have a bunch of Sally Ann Cavanaughs out there with virgin ears and minds, then I'll know that I can share more equally as funny stories without worrying about offending anyone.