Good and Bad

What makes a difference between one weekend to the next is what you remember.  Once a moment is gone you don't get it back except in the form of a memory. Often memories get clouded over time, as one weekend, one moment, blends into another. But every so often a weekend, a moment, comes by where the memory will be sharpened by how it is/was perceived by other people around you when the moment is happening. A memory, when sharpened correctly, is like a useful tool to be used when needed. A tool for laughs, a tool for learning, a tool for life that you lend to your friends over a couple of drinks. However if it is sharpened by the wrong hands, the memory will, poke, nick and slice the mind.

This past weekend was about making memories. It didn't start out that way. It just was. Sometime making a memory is unintentional. They just become.

Maxfield made his first appearance, ever, on the mound as a pitcher in a baseball game. Max was throwing as expected for his first outing, a little all over the place. But this division of little league has rules set up so kids can develop as pitchers and batters. These rules allow for kids to throw all over the place and encourage batters to look for and swing at good pitches. I, being one of his coaches, tried to take a step back and watch as his father. I took a couple of videos and cheered him on. Out of the corner of my eye I could see something was off. It was clear the coaches from the other team were unaware, uncomfortable and unprepared for this situation. I switched back to coach mode and explained the rules. At that point it was falling on deaf ears. I argued the merits of the rules again but to no avail.

Max's first outing as pitcher was cut short. He was denied a deserved strike-out and was shorted throwing to two more batters. Max looked defeated and slightly embarrassed. He was not taken out due to poor pitching, he was removed because the other coaches were unprepared. But Max's friends and team mates don't know that. I hope this memory, which should have been a good one fades in the minds of Max and his friends. Otherwise it is a good moment gone to a bad memory.

Wyatt and Ander are buddies in kindergarten and are on the same baseball team. Ander's dad recently purchased a camper and invited us over to check it out. After a quick camper tour Ander's dad offered me a beer. We sat at a table in the back yard shooting the breeze as Wyatt and Ander played on a tree swing. I took a step out of dad mode and enjoyed the conversation while the kids played. Out of the corner of my I could see Ander spinning Wyatt in the swing. He kept spinning and spinning. He seemed like he was having fun but something was off. I switched back to dad mode and started to voice my concern but it was too late. Wyatt was not prepared for the situation and said he did not feel well. We helped him out of the swing.

After a minute or two Wyatt behaved as expected and started throwing up. The tomatoes he ate for a snack sputtered out one by one, a little all over the place. Wyatt looked defeated and slightly embarrassed. I hope this memory, which not a pleasant situation, turns into sharpened tool for Wyatt and his friend Ander to use in the future. Wyatt will learn not to spin.  Ander can use it to to tell a funny story over a few drinks about how Wyatt threw-up in his back yard. A bad moment turns into a good memory.

Almost every night I ask my kids what were their favorite parts of the day. This gives me a chance to talk to them and learn from them. Sometimes their answer is one line. Other times the answers turn into discussions about the day.

Last night I asked the kids what was their favorite part of the weekened.

Maxfield took a few moments to think. He mentioned having a friend over on Saturday, going over a different friends house on Sunday and also that he participated in a run that morning. He did not mention baseball, which is good and possibly bad. I will wait to see how this memory forms.

Wyatt on the other hand, when I asked him his favorite part, without taking a breath said. "Barfing on Ander's yard."

Edible

The whole thing started off innocent enough. Lauren, my lovely wife, in an effort to improve her running times and become more fit read a book call Brain Training For Runners. The book covers the mental aspects of training your body. Every few days Lauren would tell me about her discoveries in the book and how she implemented them into her work outs. I admit most were fascinating, but not enough for me to actually try. I believe somewhere in that book it mentioned that certain kind of foods increase the body's and brain's ability to function as an athlete.

This lead Lauren down a path of reading books about nutrition for athletes. Every so often she would tell me about certain foods she was trying. I started noticing a few different types of food containers in the pantry or fridge. Again fascinating discoveries about food that I never implemented into my routines.

Somewhere in the food book Lauren read about the book called the China Study and the documentary film Forks Over Knives which she of course got both from the library. Lauren discovered all kinds of great information in both sources. The overall message was one can reduce chronic illness and diseases and enhance their overall health by adopting a whole foods plant based diet and reducing the intake of processed foods. As Lauren started adopting these changes into our household I noticed Lauren was preparing our family meals a bit different. We were eating more salads, fruits, vegetables and whole grains. I, again, was noticing different types of food packages and containers in our pantry. Labels that read quinoa, tofu and soy were replacing certain staples of Lauren's cooking repertoire.

Lauren and I discussed our diets. Unlike the other discoveries I felt changing our diet was something in which I could participate. We both agreed that we were not eliminating all meat or processed foods but that we would be more conscientious of food labels. We would try to buy products that listed "true" ingredients with no artificial additives or fillers. All of the changes we were making were gradual.

The other night, after everyone was in bed, I had a hankering for snack. Earlier I spotted a few packages of hot dogs crammed in the freezer and I knew that one or two dogs would satisfy my craving. I noticed that the packaging was different than the usual hot dogs we buy and I thought that Lauren must have bought a "healthier" hot dog (if there is such a thing). I took a closer look at the label and did a double take.

This is what I saw.

I thought Lauren was taking the healthy eating true ingredients thing a bit too far.

I had three anus dogs that night. They were yummy.

My Mom is #1

When we were younger, pre-teens, we were not allowed to curse. My parents rarely swore or used any type of bad language. I should say my dad rarely swore or used bad language. My mother, on the other hand, would use shit, damn, hell and bitch, but always in context and most likely due to one of us kids driving her crazy. She usually cursed towards the end of the day when her patience would be running out. Here are some examples.


Example 1
Kid: Mom? Michael stuck a quarter up his nose and we can’t get it out.
Mom: Shit.

Example 2
Kid: Mom? I think you left the spaghetti on the stove too long. It is bubbling all over the place.
Mom: Damn it.

Example 3:
Kid: Mom? I think we broke Bobby’s (my best friend and the kid across the street) collarbone.
Mom: Aw Hell. I will call Midge.

Example 4
Kid: Mom? Michael stuck his head in the radiator and he can’t get it out.
Mom: Son of a bitch. He will have to wait until his father gets home.

There was one swear word she would use if she was really, really mad and it was usually only uttered if someone spilled their milk at the dinner table. Spilling a drink at the dinner table was one of worst crimes we could commit. It drove my mother batty.

Kid: (Knocks over glass)
Mom: Jesusmaryandjospeh.

My parent’s rarely fought in front of us as well. Sure they would get mad at each other but most arguments, if there was an argument, happened behind closed doors, out of the earshot of the kids. As we all grew and entered our teenage years we could get away with a few four letter words as long as they were not directed towards another sibling. Any curses spoken to or about another sibling that was overheard by my mom resulted in our mouths being washed out with soap. Also, as we were all mostly in our teenage years my parents became a little more relaxed about their arguing in front of us.

I remember the first time I saw my mom directing a middle finger gesture to my dad. I was about 16 and I was shocked. I asked her why it was okay for her to flip the bird to my dad when if I did it I would get a bar of Irish Spring as a snack. My mom’s response was quick.

“I wasn’t giving him the finger. I was telling him I think he is Number One.”

Calling someone Number One is now sort of a term of endearment for me. If someone has a smart-ass comment with me, if someone is busting my stones, or if I am having a playful argument I usually call that person Number One.


If you live in the Philadelphia area the Camden River Sharks are hosting a Mother's appreciation night on Wednesday, May 16. As part of the game, mothers can receive free admission to the game by presenting their Mother’s Day Card at the Box Office the day of the game. The River Sharks are also sponsoring an essay contest go here for details.


 
If you need a gift for mom, check out this cool game. Mother the Game.The boardgame for anybody who's ever had one. Players must choose a type of Mother: Passive-Aggressive, Overbearing, Doting, or Best Friend, and then answer a variety of trivia, role playing, and other mother-related questions pertaining to the specific Mother they have chosen.

Happy Mother's Day to all the mother's. But remember my mom is #1.

Broadstreet Run

"Agent Meakim, your government needs you." Agent Spider barked.


Agent Spiderw was the head of F.A.R.T.E.R, Fast Action Response Team Emergency Runners. Spider was the top recruiter for the secret government agency.

"Are you up for this mission?" Spider barked again. "You're the only one that can do this."

Agent Meakim listened as Spider described the mission. On May 6th 2012 the Biological Underground Guerrilla Soldiers, or B.U.G.S. as they were known, were planning on releasing a silent but deadly toxin throughout the city of Philadelphia. They were going to use the annual Blue Cross Blue Shield Broad Street Run as cover. Agent Meakim would need to run 10 miles, from one end of Philadelphia to the other, carrying a secret Antidote for the biological weapon. Meakim would need to run in the middle of 40,000 other people exposing as many to the antidote as possible. However Meakim also needed to get the antidote to the end location in under an hour and 28 minutes to prevent the silent but deadly toxin for spreading. Meakim did not want to let the people down and agreed to the mission.

Meakim would need to train for a few months in order to make the time. January through April agent Meakim trained in the cold, the rain, early mornings, late at night to prepare for this test.

On the morning of May 6th Agent Meakim woke up at 2:30 AM with a severe stomach bug. She was up all night. There was no way she was going to be able to complete the mission. The people of Philly were doomed. Luckily Agent Meakim had a back-up plan. Under the guise of living a healthier lifestyle Agent Meakim talked her husband into training for the same race. She explained the situation, he would now have to be the secret F.A.R.T.ER., a task she thought he could surely handle. After all, he too had trained hard all winter to run this race. He even went as far as losing an extra 8 lbs to help improve his time. Bill had some doubts. Last year Bill ran the same race in 1:46:- ish but he was Agent Meakim's only hope.

Bill Meakim had to attend the race without his companion and inspiration, but he had a mission to complete. He was determined to be the best F.A.R.T.E.R. ever. Due to his wife being very ill and the fact that he could not find his good luck wristbands Bill got off to a late start. He arrived at the subway station 20 minutes after he originally planned. This filled him with anxiety, Bill always likes to be early. Distracted by inspecting his backpack for his post run change of clothes and his special running shoes, Bill mistakenly followed the crowd and jumped on the local stop subway instead of the express which put him another 20 minutes behind. By the time Bill got to the starting line he missed the buses that would take his gear to the finish line. Bill now had to run the 10 miles with an extra 8 to 10 pounds on his back.

Bill, wearing his green and grey Vibram running shoes, a brown school bag back pack, red shorts a grey shirt and without his lucky wristbands marched towards the starting line. The last time Bill ran 10 miles his time was over the hour twenty eight mark. He was alone with 40, 000 other people. Sweat was already trickling down his back as the anxiety engulfed him. The air horn sounded and Bill took off running.

Bill's time for the first mile was 7:39. He was doing great, except he knew he started off too strong. He ran mile two a little slower, coming in at 8:03 pace. By mile four Bill finally found a comfortable pace at 8:50 ish but would it be enough? He was getting slower. Bill knew he had to get the antidote to the end. He reached into his pocket for a handful of jelly beans. Lots of runners use jelly beans for the sugar and the pick up they provide. These beans were now provided the extra fuel for Bill Meakim F.A.R.T.E.R. Agent.

Mile 7 and 8 proved difficult for Bill. His legs felt weak. The back pack was causing irritation and pain. His mind started to wonder off the task at hand. He thought of his wife at home, affected by the bug. The bug, the B.U.G.S. The enemy had gotten to her. Bill threw another handful of beans into his mouth and he picked up his pace. He ran hard. He felt like he was breaking the wind. He knew he had to put the F in F.A.R.T.E.R.

The last two miles were a blur. Bill checked his watch as he crossed the finish. 1:27:58 He did it. He saved the city of Philadelphia.

Special agent Spider greeted Bill with a smile.

"You had me worried there back at mile 7." Spider said. His voice sounding as if someone had stepped on a duck. "Flat, you went. Flat."

"Well I did not want to let you or my wife down." Bill responded. "I still had some gas left in the end."

Special agent Spider awarded Bill a medal and asked him to stick around and celebrate.

Bill refused. He wanted to return to his wife as soon as possible. He saved some of the antidote for her.

Besides he did not want anyone to know that he was a F.A.R.T.E.R.




---I ran the Broad Street 10 Mile race. My official time was 1 hour, 27 minutes. 56 seconds, almost 20 minutes faster than I ran last year. Lauren, who trained for four months was too sick to run. I was happy and proud of my time but the accomplishment kind of sucks when there is no one there to celebrate with you.

Batteries

I like Batteries. I like them of all sizes but I prefer C Batteries and 9 Volt batteries. You know what you are getting with these. They have their functional uses but are also designed for more fun equipment. They usually fit perfectly, with the round nub like terminals facing the same way (not all flip floppy back and forth + to - needing six to get the job done, like Double and Triple As). The C and 9 Volt batteries do not need springs to keep them in place They are easier to store and have a good heft to them. What can I say, I have a preference.


When I was younger and less mature I used to equate bra sizes to batteries well, actually the size of what was int he bra. D-cell batteries, the largest of  common household batteries, used to power large flashlights, mega-phones and large radios, were equivalent as a D Cup bra. C-cell batteries, the next size down, the most versatile and widely used batteries for fun things like remote control cars, toy trucks and other cool toys were equal to a C Cup. There is no B size battery so I called the B Cup a 9-Volt. 9 Volt batteries are most commonly used for smoke detectors, Walkie-Talkies and RC controllers. The 9Volt was fun but also had a practical side.  Of course the smallest of the common batteries are the AA (double A) and AAA (triple A) batteries which are used in cameras, small electronics, TV remote controls and min-flashlights. Nothing great but they got the job done.

Now read the first paragraph again.

Since the beginning the of the year my wife and I have been making a concerted effort to exercise, eat better, and lose weight. As of this posting Lauren has lost over 20 lbs and I am down 14. I do not think Lauren was ever in a position that she needed to lose any weight but I support her decision to get trimmer and more fit. Not only does Lauren run 40 miles or so a week but she also does weight lifting. She looks great. The best part of her look is the smile she wears from the confidence she now has now that she is more comfortable in her body. A side effect of the weight loss though has been she has not been able to determine where on her body she is losing weight. Let me just say, when I met her, before kids, she was the power of a toy truck. Now she powers digital cameras.

 MYy workouts have only consist of running. I have lost weight in my legs, belly and hips. But since I do not do any weight training the upper part of my body is looking rather large and flabby. I ran a 10 mile race last weekend where professional photographers were shooting pics of runners for purchase. The day after the race I went to the photography website to check out if I was in any of the pictures. I was horrified at what I saw. The combination of the light rain and sweat made my shirt stick to my chest. Let's say I could power a boom box.

I need to figure out a way to support my Man-Batteries.

Training Days

I have said in the past that whoever coined the phrase "terrible twos" never had a three year old.

Jackson at 3 and half is quickly moving out of toddler hood and shifting to being a little boy. Having two older brothers is getting him advanced placement classes into boyhood. Jackson knows all about stick weapons. He has perfected sand/dirt/mud throwing. He loves the word "butt" and uses it often to get a laugh. He can whine "that's no fair" like the best of them. He loves to fart and is proud of it.  And recently Jackson has learned how to spit. He spits on everything. His distance needs a little work but he is doing great with his accuracy. Lauren and I have been guiding Jackson through this transition with lots of deep sighs, eye rolls, slow growling statements of "What. did. you. do.", and plenty of time-outs.

When Jackson turned three we thought that was a good time for him to give up his pacifier. That was a struggle which we are still dealing with. Although Jax has not had a binky in 4 months, he still suffers serious withdraw and ends up sleeping in our bed most nights. At first it was okay with us because we understood that he needed comfort. Now we are trying to break him of sleeping-in-our-bed habit.

Part of the transition into boyhood, which he has no interest in figuring out, is learning to use the toilet for its designed purpose. He already knows how to put toys in it, splash in it and of course spit in it but actually getting him to go on it is going to be a challenge.

Potty training is tough work. Once a boy thinks he has learned to go by himself they want nothing to do with diapers. There are lots of accidents and messes to clean. One of the big headaches of training is the night time accidents. Changing sheets and pajamas at 3 in the morning sucks. GoodNites , the makers of bed wetting underwear, have a new product out called the BedMats, which I just know will help with the middle of the night clean-ups. Although the BedMats were made with older kids in mind (ages 4 to 6), I am going to be using them while training Jackson. They appear easy to use, easy to clean up, and fit typical standard twin beds. GoodNites does not recommend the use of BedMats for children under the age of three.

GoodNites is about building a kid's confidence and educating parents about the issues of bed wetting. I have partnered with GoodNites in the past, they make a great product and have great information on their website. They agreed to send me a trial pack of BedMats. The BedMats are 2.5 ft by 3ft in size. They seem to adhere to the sheets just fine and they are much quieter than I thought they would be (sometimes plastic makes that swoosh-swoosh noise). GoodNites BedMats , are great to take on sleepovers or on vacation just for the added protection to grand mom's guest room mattress. I have not tried them yet on my bed but the size is perfect to fit between my wife and I, which is where Jackson spends most of his nights.

GoodNites has offered me the opportunity to give away a trial pack of their BedMats along with a Confidence Booster kit, which includes a sheet set, a clock and a $50- Visa Gift Card to one of the readers of Poop and Boogies. If you would like a chance to win this cool little prize pack just leave me a comment here, or on Facebook before midnight April 18th. I will select one random comment for the prize. Please make sure you leave me a valid way to contact you if you are chosen. Even if you don't need the BedMats  a $50- Visa Gift Card is cool.

If you don't know what to leave as a comment I suggest a poem. This is an old poem. "Snakes and snails and puppy dog tails, that's what little boys are made from. Sugar and spice, and everything nice, that's what little girls are made from."

This is my poem to describe Jackson.
Smiles and Wit and lots of Spit. That's what Jackson is made from.

Using the same format describe your kid.

Disclaimer.

“GoodNites® provided me with a pack of GoodNites® Bed Mats and a Confidence Booster Kit to conduct a reader giveaway. However, my opinions on the product are entirely my own and I have not been paid to publish positive sentiments towards GoodNites® or their products.”

To the Rescue

Some of the following story may be embellished just a bit.

You know the saying "the camera adds 10 pounds",  I believe there should be an addition to that stating pictures posted to Facebook add another ten.

In an effort to lose two of the three chins I have, I decided to make a concerted effort to lose 18 pounds. That is 9 pounds a chin. The best way to lose weight is a combination of diet and exercise.

Almost every day, I take my lunch hour and run between 3 and 5 miles at very nice township park close to my office. The park has various paths of different distances that circle, cut through, criss-cross and interweave the playground, soccer fields, pavilions and small preserved wooded and grass nature areas. The largest paved path circles the perimeter of the 100 acre park with a lap distance of 1.2 miles.

I think I recently posted about how I have been running with Vibram Five Finger Shoes which causes a few stares and a few questions from other people at the park.

On very cold days I also wear a Balaclava , long dark parts and a long sleeved dark running shirt. Some days I look like a ninja with iPod wires dangling out of my neck.

About a month ago I went on my lunch time run on a very cold but sunny say. I was making great time with my first mile at an 8:15 pace. I ran past the main pavilion and started to make the first turn that headed towards the nature areas. About 10 yards ahead of me I noticed a big bunch of keys in the middle of the path. Without missing a step and keeping pace I gracefully swept up the keys in my right hand. I knew someone would be in desperate need of these keys. I figured I would get back to the parking lot and see if anyone was missing keys. Or I could hit the panic button on the key fab setting off the alarm and wait to see who would claim the large heavy key filled ring. It was cold day so the park was not that crowded.

I made the second turn on the outer path which tucks behind some tall grasses and clusters of trees. This part of the track also dips down off of a small knoll for about 150 yards. This is only part of the track that is not visible from the main park. I looked up ahead and noticed a blond woman, about 50 years old, walking towards me. She had a worried look on her red face. Her hand was placed across her upper chest and she was clearly out of breath. I held up the keys and yelled, "DID YOU LOSE YOUR KEYS?"

She nodded.  A faint look of relief replaced the wrinkles on her face. As I ran closer I realized that the woman was Marion from my office.

I slowed down and handed her the keys. I started to run in place.

"DO YOU WANT TO RUN TOGETHER?"

She shook her head and gave me a perturbed look.

"C'MON, LET'S GO. YOU CAME OUT HERE TO RUN, RIGHT?"

I nudged her elbow and made her turn in the direction I was heading. She resisted. Her eyes went wide. I gave her a funny look and realized that since I had my Balaclava on she did not recognize me. This is what she saw.

I quickly removed the mask. Her look went from worried to perplexed to embarrassed.

"C'MON LET'S RUN. WE'LL FINISH UP OVER BY," I turned down the volume on my ipod, " THE PARking lot."

She turned and started to jog with me. We ran about fifty yards when she started to cough and wheeze. She sounded horrible. Red blotches bloomed from her cheeks and tears filled her eyes.

"I can't do this." She rasped, sounding like an old lady who had smoked for 60 years. She stumbled.

With lightning like reflexes I reached out and steadied her preventing her from falling. I slowed down and asked if she was okay.

"I...can't...breath." She choked out.

We were at the point on the path that was the furthest away from the parking lot. I stopped running.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

Marion explained, between huffing and puffing, that she too was running on the path but was overcome with an asthma attack. She started towards her car when she realized she lost her keys. She had to backtrack to find them. She then started to panic because she was alone, couldn't breath, she was the furthest point away from he car, and was in a spot where no one could see her if she passed out. She was happy to see me with her keys but did not know who I was. Besides the balaclava, the tighter running shirt and pants and my muscular physique must have thrown her off. When she discovered it was someone she knew she was embarrassed.

I escorted her across the fields and made sure she made it back to the office.

Basically, as I like to tell her almost everyday, I saved her life. I was like a superhero, mask and all.





I have tried a few different websites to monitor my diet. The two I liked best were SlimKicker and Lose It. My wife Lauren is having great success with Lose It (she has worked off about 20lbs) and that is now my preferred calorie counting site. So far I am down 1 chin.

Cheat

A day does not go by that I do not think of her. Some days I miss her, other days I feel indifferent, but I still think of her. She was a big part of my life.

She was part of my life when I met Lauren. At first Lauren was okay with her being around but as time wore on Lauren told me I needed to get rid of her. I tried. I would go a month, maybe two. Then I would see her with someone else and it would remind me of all the good times. I would bring her back. She made me feel good and I always felt I deserved to feel good.

Lauren caught me a few times. Lauren said she could smell her. Lauren would plead with me. I would feel guilty.  I would tell Lauren it was over. And it was. For a month or two. I would go back. I would sneak around trying to find moments to be alone with her.

Lauren and I were married. I did my best not to bring her around. I was starting a new life and did not need the baggage she would bring.

I was sitting in a bar not too long after having our first child. I saw her from across the room. She was dancing with a group of people. The way she gracefully swayed, entangling her way amongst her friends, the way she sparkled, bringing smiles to the faces of the people she was with mesmerized me. I had to have her again.

I missed her. I missed how she made me feel. I missed her scent. I missed the taste of her on my lips. I went back to her. I knew I could not bring her around my children. What would they think? She was a bad influence on me, she would be a bad influence on my kids. But I had to have her.

I went back to sneaking around. I would not see her all the time or as much as I used to but every now and then I would find a way to be with her. I think Lauren knew but she was too busy with the kids to make a argument. I think Lauren wanted to give me some space, let me figure things out.

I finally did. One day I came to realize what was important. I stopped smoking cigarettes four years ago.

I enjoyed smoking. Sure, I was addicted but I enjoyed smoking. Cigarettes were a big part of my life. It was a difficult habit to break. A day does not go by that I do not think of smoking. Some days I miss cigarettes, other days I feel indifferent, but I still think of cigarettes.

Book Pimping

Baseball season is here. I am coaching Wyatt's T-ball team, the Astros, and helping with Maxfield's Machine Pitch team. With two teams to coach, Scout meetings to attend, races to run, "my wife to murder and Guilder to Frame for it" I'm swamped.

It figures during one of my busiest times of the year is also the time that some of favorite authors/writers are releasing new books. Harlan Coben's Stay Close came out last week, Lisa Scottoline has a new one in two weeks, as well as the few I am going to mention below.  I have said in the past I am a slow reader by the time I get around to any of their books they will be publishing their next one.

Eve Mont, my friend and once fellow young Bohemian, is releasing her her latest YA book called A Breath of Eyre. It hits stores tomorrow. If you are a fan of the Bronte Jane Eyre book, I am pretty sure you will like Mont's book. Check out this website for a better description. YA books are all the rage as of late with the Hunger Games and what not and I bet Eve Mont's characters will be just as endearing. I probably will be the only 40 year old man at her signing in Doylestown this weekend. Do you think people will find me creepy?

Brad Meltzer has a new book coming out on April 10th called Heroes for My Daughter. This book is the second of a pair. The first book of the duo Heroes for My Son is one of my favorite books. Meltzer's publisher sent me an advanced copy of Heroes for my Daughter and it is just as good as the "Sons" book. Filled with 50 different Heroes, Meltzer does and excellent job of encapsulating what makes, what most readers would think are extraordinary people, ordinary. By making these heroes ordinary only magnifies their incredible accomplishments. Meltzer never ceases to amaze me with his skill.

Fellow blogger Jenny Lawson's debut novel Let's Pretend This Never Happened is due to be released April 17th. Jenny also known as the Bloggess is one of the funniest people on the Internet (read about the dangers of towel shopping). She is also one of the kindest (read about a sort of holiday miracle here). I believe the book will be all of that kindness and humor without the hyper-links.

If you enjoy reading go and check out these books.
That is 5 books in a a little over a few weeks that I feel the need to read. I may be a bit overwhelmed.

Speaking of overwhelming, every team in the history of Little League has that "one" kid on it. You know the "one" bad kid. The "one" kid that does not listen. The "one" kid that goofs off. Wyatt is that "one" kid on his team. Not only does he not pay attention he also distracts the other players.

This is Wyatt performing some type of Ninja move.

Bike Test

I have posted this story a few years ago. Maxfield turned 8 last week causing this memory to keep popping up.


When we, my 8 siblings and I, were growing up, before we could ride a bike in the street we had to take a bike test.

I learned to ride a bike, I guess, when I was 5 or 6. It was hand me down Big Wheels before that. But once we mastered the two wheel regular bikes we could only ride in the driveway or on the sidewalk. We were not allowed to cross the street on the bike. We weren’t even allowed to walk the bike across the street. We were only allowed to go around the block, on the sidewalk. We had to wait until our 7th or 8th birthday (I can’t remember) for my father to administer the Bike Test before we could venture out onto the street. Going around the block for a whole year was quite boring.

Dad felt that if we were going to ride in the street that at least we would have to be safe. The bike test was the first step in being able to ride with your friends or even older brothers. It was the test to be somewhat free.

The Bike Test was hard, especially to an 8 year old.

The test started in the driveway. We had to make a right, heading North onto Street X. Make a right, heading East onto street Y. Make a u-turn without hitting the curb and head West, stop at the stop sign, cross Street X and head up the small hill. We then had to make another U-turn and head East again, stop at the stop sign make right onto Street X and then a left into our driveway. If we could complete this course, not too fast or too slow (yes you could get penalized for being too slow) using all of the correct hand signals, stopping where we were supposed to, we would pass the test. We would be free to ride our bikes in the street. We would be free.

Not one of my brothers or my sister ever passed on the first try.

The second stop sign got me. I went right through it. I was coming down the hill; I was making a right hand turn, I looked, no cars were coming, what’s the big deal?
It was a big deal. I had to wait another two weeks before I could take the test again. I had to wait 14 days before I could ride with my friends. It was embarrassing.

There go my brothers and the rest of the kids from the neighborhood riding down to the park.  I would have to walk. By the time I got to the stickball game it would already be the second inning. Not that any one cared because I sucked at stickball.

These days there are laws about kids wearing helmets. There are lawsuits when a kid gets hit by car, because he crossed the road without looking. There are lawsuits when kids get hurt by their own bikes. Where are the bike tests?

 Maxfield turned 8 last week. I am drawing up my own bike test.

Should I Be Worried

Maxfield and Wyatt attend the local public elementary school. Unlike other school districts in the area which have these huge district wide primary schools that have 10 classes per grade and feel like a Sams club of education, Max and Wyatt's school is a small only two classes per grade, community minded friendly learning environment. At least I hope it is friendly.

One of the perks of our small community school is the Home and School Association volunteers that participate is providing fun events and activities for the kids. They do an excellent job making school fun and probably deserve more credit and thanks then they get. One of the preeminent events the HSA holds is the annual Pine Run Derby Race. Max has participated the past few years. This year is Wyatt's first opportunity to build and car and enter the race. He is very excited.

We collaborate on the assembly and building of the car but the design and decoration is all the kids' doing. This year Max wanted his car to resemble some Lego Ninjago inspired vehicle. It required extra attention on my part to make sure the detailed cuts were exactly how Max wanted them. The car turned out very cool and unique.

Wyatt on the other hand went with a basic car design but his paint job required a different part of my attention.

"How do you want to paint your car?" I asked.

"I want it to have a big hairy spider on it." he responded.

"Eww. I don't like spiders." I said giving him the reaction he wanted. He knows I have a phobia.

"Then I want to paint a skeleton head on it." he said. "I also want a zombie head on it. And a grave yard."

He got more and more excited with each idea.

"And Dad? I also want to paint a coffee pot full of blood on the top. I want lots and lots of blood."

Should I be worried? A coffee pot full of blood? Where does he come up with that?

 Do you think Stephen King had these kinds of conversations with his parents?

Eight

A year before I started the blog Poop and Boogies my oldest child was born. I never did document in the web log form all of those "firsts". Or all of those first time parent feelings of being awed and scared and excited and tired and happy and scared and proud and scared.

A few days after he was born I drove Maxfield home from the hospital doing 15 MPH and cursing under my breath all of those people on the road who would dare drive at 25 while I had a new born in my car. I remember waking up in the middle of the night just to check on him to make sure he was breathing. I remember the overwhelming feeling of being afraid that I would somehow break this new child.

Eight Years later he is still not broken.

I think.

I hope.

My dad used to call me on Max's birthday and wish me a Happy father's day because that is the day I became a father. He would wish Lauren a Happy Mother's day for the same reason.

Happy Father's Day to me.

Not a leap baby

I only get to say "On this day" this particular day every four years.

It was on this day 8 years ago that Maxfield decided it was time to start his entrance into this world. I remember so much and so little from that day.

February 29th 2004 was the due date. It was also the first nice day of that winter. The sun was shining and it was in the low 60’s. Being that we were pent up for most of the winter Lauren and I decided to enjoy the weather by going for a walk around the neighborhood. We left our house hoping to suck up as much sun as possible. It was about 2:30 in the afternoon.

As we left the house we saw all of our neighbors out in their yards also enjoying the weather. We said “hello” to Gary and Julie and other neighbors and all of their kids. I think Rick and his wife, who I can never remember her name, were also out with their kids. They were all standing on Julie’s yard, across the street from our house, watching their kids play. We said we would be back shortly to chat.

Lauren and I turned the corner and were talking about how nice it was outside. Yes it was her due date and we were talking about the weather. We were walking at a slow pace because Lauren was big in the belly. We made it halfway up the block when Lauren grabbed my arm and said, “Oh my God!”

“What?” I replied thinking that maybe she forgot to turn off the Television.

She did not say anything she just kept giggling. A peculiar giggle.

“Did your water just break?” I asked.

“Yeah. And I’m wearing white pants.” she replied. Her eyes went wide with excitement and embarrassmentt.

“What? Do you feel okay? Let’s head home.”

I was too excited. She was worried about her pants.

“Give me a second.” She said as she was inspecting herself.

In my mind I was going through all the things I learned in birthing class. “I have to get her a new COAT. I need to time her breathing. Hell I don’t own a watch. Maybe we can stop at the mall on the way to the hospital to get a watch. I need to get her bags to the car. What did we forget? I have to call my mom and tell her we cannot make it to her Oscar party.” These were only some of my thoughts.

We shuffled back down the block and did our best to sneak past the neighbors across the street. As we approached our house Rose and Paul, the neighbors to our left, pulled up in into the driveway. Rose yelled out, “Hey guys! Don’t go in yet. Sabina wants to say hi.” Sabina was Rose and Paul’s 3-year-old daughter.

Lauren turned to me and through gritted teeth said, “I’m going inside. You can explain.”

We just waved and entered the house. Lauren called the doctor while she changed her clothes. I remember from the class that the baby has to be delivered within 24 hours of the water breaking to reduce the risk of …of….something or other. I knew we were going to be at the hospital for the next few days. Holy crap! I was going to be a dad within 24 hours.

Lauren was not experiencing any labor pains and took her time getting herself together. Once she was ready, I grabbed her suitcase and took it to the car. I would come back to escort her. As I walked out with the suitcase Julie looked over with a puzzling look. Rose, Sabina and Paul were now standing across the street.

“I think it is time.” I yelled over to the gaggle of people gathered on the sidewalk.

“Really?” someone said.

I went back to the house and did a mental check of everything before I was ready to escort Lauren to the car. As I stepped onto the walkway, Rose and Julie came over and asked if we needed anything. I said no.

“I can’t believe this happening.” Rose said.

“I know.” Replied Julie. “It is so exciting that we are here to witness this.”

I went back in the house and told Lauren about the gathering in front of Julie’s house. She mentioned how awkward it was to be going through this with everyone watching. We left the house. The people across the street were talking louder and louder and pointing to us. Lauren and I didn’t really know what to say. We got into the car nodding and smiling.  As we pulled down the street all the neighbors gathered on the sidewalk and started cheering and clapping. I compare it to the end of the move Brubaker, when Robert Redford leaves the prison or to the end of Wizard of OZ when the balloon is about to take off and all the munchkins are waving and cheering. Maxfield would not be born until March 1st, but his entrance was already starting in a very surreal way.


* I originally posted this story in 2006.

Wyatt Inspired

Our children's name's are inspired by artists.

The oldest boy, Maxfield, is named after Maxfield Parrish . Jackson Pollack is the inspiration for our youngest boy, Jackson.

Our middle child Wyatt's name is inspired by the artist family the Wyeths. Lauren and I both enjoy all three generations of the Wyeth art.  I am a bigger fan of N.C. Wyeth's work. My wife enjoys more of Andrew (N.C.'s son) and Jamie's (Andrew's son) work. We named Wyatt Wyatt instead of Wyeth so it would not sound as though he had a lisp when saying his name.

Although the winter has been mild both Lauren and I were feeling the winter blahs from a creative standpoint. The boys were just starting week two of a two week suspension from video games. Our whole house was feeling a little blue and antsy. In an effort to boost everyone out of their funk Lauren and I decided to take the kids to the Brandywine River Museum.  The Brandywine, located on the South West side of Philly, houses the largest collections of all three generations of the Wyeth family's artwork. The Wyeths lived in the Brandywine Valley. Lauren and I hoped the museum would give us some inspiration and relieve us of our blahs. We told the boys that if they were well behaved I would shave off 4 days of their suspension and that was their inspiration.

Walking into the first gallery I was overwhelmed by the size and color of the paintings. I have been to the Brandywine before but not since Wyatt was born. This was his first time being around the artwork of his "namesake" and I felt a wave of satisfaction at naming him after this family of artists. Lauren turned to me and said, "I really needed this."

I think Wyatt was excited that the day was kind of about him.

Even though there are signs that say "No Photos" I couldn't help but take a few pictures of Wyatt standing in front of the incredible paintings of the Wyeths.  N.C. Wyeth illustrated many novels in the early 1900s including Last of the Mohican's and Treasure Island. The kids seemed to like these paintings.

Maxfield Parrish was a contemporary of N.C. Wyeth and we were lucky that the Brandywine has some Parrish work. The above picture is my Max standing in front of the Parrish painting called the "Artist". My Max was very nervous because he read the "No Photo" sign and though we may get arrested.

The portrait work in the Jaimie Wyeth gallery was very impressive and I think I enjoyed this section the most. I was able to convince the kids to sit on a bench while Lauren and I had a chance to look around. I hope that as the kids get older they appreciate their names and the inspiration behind them and maybe actually the artwork.

I did not get any pictures of the Andrew Wyeth gallery because security started tailing me. Security either realized I was taking pictures or they heard me say "Don't touch." over a hundred times. The kids enjoyed this gallery the most because there were lots of "heinie" and "butt" pictures.

If you live in the Philadelphia area and you enjoy a good art museum I would highly suggest going to the Brandywine River Museum. Admission is free on Sunday mornings and you get to see some "heinies and butts."