Why Lauren has wrinkled clothes

Photo Sharing - Upload Video - Video Sharing - Share Photos

Territory

If you have pets and plan to bring home a new pet or a baby, Veterinarians will tell you to bring home a blanket or article of clothing with the new pet or baby’s scent on it for the animals to smell. This will get them acclimated to the new scents that will be invading their territory.

For the most part Max has been excellent with Wyatt’s presence in our house. We made every effort to assure Max that we still love him and that Wyatt should not be a threat to him.

Over the past two months, however, Max has become somewhat territorial. For instance, I am Max’s daddy, not Wyatt’s. I am not allowed to hold Wyatt. Only Mommy can hold Wyatt. If I am playing with Wyatt, Max will make a point to get in between us. Wyatt cannot watch TV. Only Max can.

Now that Wyatt is more active and actually has the ability to grab teethers and toys Max has started to declare what toys are Max’s and what ones are Wyatt’s. For the record they all belong to Max, because he says so.

I am thinking that before we brought Wyatt home, I should have had Maxfield sniffing his onesies because maybe he would not be so territorial.

Choices

I am conducting a survey for scientific purposes.

Breakfast sausage: Do you prefer links or patties?

Getaway

This past weekend the family packed up the mini-van and went to the beach on the West coast of Florida. Lauren has a friend who owns a vacation home just North of Clearwater and told us we could use it whenever they were not. The offer has been out there for about year and we finally took them up on it. Since the house is only occupied every so often, when we arrived, we had get the house situated. We had to turn on the water, the hot water heater, make the beds and what not.

We enjoyed a semi-relaxing weekend. I say semi because with a 2 and 1/2 year old and a 3 month old, one can never be completely relaxed. We spent time at the local aquarium down by the docks where Max got to feed Manta Rays and pet turtles. We window-shopped in the town that is the self-proclaimed sponge capital of the world. We also enjoyed the beach.

Before we departed back to Orlando on Sunday we had to make sure that the house was exactly as it was when we arrived. During the time we were there we made sure that everything we used, was cleaned and put back in order, as we used it. We did not want to spend all of Sunday cleaning so we did as we went along. We wanted to leave the house perfect for Lauren’s friend, who would be coming down in November.

We spent Sunday morning at the beach and when we got back to the house Lauren ran the vacuum and watched the kids as I used the bathroom to pee and take a shower. Lauren then took a shower as I stripped the bedclothes from the bed and gathered the towels to do the laundry. We wanted to make it like we were never there. While I was gathering the laundry I also grabbed one of the red placemats from the table that Max had finger painted with mustard.
As I was switching the laundry from the washer to the dryer I realized that the tan colored towels looked a little, okay not a little but a lot, pink. Oh Shit. The damn red placemat bled onto the rest of the laundry. I inspected everything and realized it was only the towels that were affected. Now I had a moral dilemma. Do I hide the towels? Or do I confess to Lauren what I did? Surely I could just hide the towels in the linen closet and act like nothing ever happened. But that would not be the right thing to do. Lauren’s friend was nice enough to lend us her house, free of charge; I should just fess up and hope that Lauren and her friend would understand my stupidity. They are just towels.

I explained to Lauren what happened. She said that she would just email her friend and explain what happened and that it, hopefully, would be no problem. We finished cleaning and packed the car and did our final check of the house.

Hot water heater off? Check.
All doors locked? Check.
Laundry and dishes done? Check.
Everything back in place? Check.

We headed out the door and Lauren asked me to wait before I turned the water off. She had to use the bathroom and wanted to do a final walk through of the house. I waited in the car with the kids. When she came back out and got into the car she said, “It is a good thing that I need to use the bathroom.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Because someone forgot to flush the toilet.” She said.

“Oh. I didn’t flush it because I did not want to wait for the shower temperature to change. I forgot to flush it when I got out of the shower. It is good that you went back in there.”

“I know. That would have stunk if it had been sitting there for the next month, when they finally come back down to use the house.” Lauren laughed.

“And here, I was all worried about the pink towels.”

Is it wrong...

...to teach other people's children how to give wet willies?

Uncomfortable Moment

The water softener salesman is standing at my kitchen sink. He wants to show me how clean the water is as it pours through his filter. He wants to show me how soft water is better for cleaning dishes, clothes and my hands. He hands me a bar of soap and says, "Get a real good lather going and then hand me the soap."

I chuckle and say, "The last time a man said that to me was in prison."


Crickets.

Maxfield (2 and half)

Max kept telling the photographer that he did not want his picture taken. "No, No, No."

Sandbox

Maxfield and I went to the playground the other night. As we walked up to the sand box I noticed a little girl about Max’s age eating a picnic dinner with her parents. I nodded a silent “hello” in their direction and Max and I continued on to the swings.

We played for while and after the little girl was done eating she came over to play with Max. The two of them did the whole “monkey see monkey do” thing that toddlers often do at a playground. Max would go down the slide, so would the little girl. The little girl would run over to the merry-go-round and so would Max. They were both keeping a safe distance from each other but at the same time playing together. Meanwhile I was making small talk with the girls parents.

Max eventually got bored of the little girl and went off to the corner of the sandbox to play in the sand. I walked over and sat down with Max and we started drawing in the sand. I would write a letter or a number in sand and Max would tell me what it was. I would smooth the sand over and start again. We were doing this for a few minutes when the girl and her parents came over and sat with us.

“Look Ryan.” The mother said to the little girl. “They are doing their letters. You know your letters.”

Now that Max had an audience he wanted to show off a bit. He wanted to draw the letters himself. I would tell him the letter to write and then I would hold his hand, with his pointer finger out, and help him write it in the sand.

I then asked Max what letters he wanted to write.

“Eff.” He said. So we wrote an F. I smoothed the sand and asked him for another.

“Ew.” He said indicating the letter U. I erased the U after we wrote it, the little girl and her parents watching us.

“What next Max?” I asked.

“See.” He said.

As I started to write the letter C it occurred to me that even with the total randomness of his letter requests there was a possibility of him spelling the word Fuck. I started to have a discussion with myself.

“What are these people going to think of us if he does? Yeah but what are the chances that he actually does? He has a 1 in 26 chance of the next letter being K. But what if he does say K? Will they notice? Will they pick up their kid and go home? No, they won’t notice if it is the letter K. And if they do notice they will understand that it is totally random. But what if they don’t realize it is random. But if I stop asking him what letters he wants to draw surely they will pick up on that fact that I am stopping the game. Plus I am kind of interested to see if he does say K because really what are the chances of that? And how funny would that be?”

I took a deep breath. “Max, What next?” I braced myself. I looked over at the other parents to see if there were interested. The look on the mother’s eyes said to me that she WAS paying attention. I waited for Max to respond.

“Doubba Eww.” He said.

I breathed a slight sigh as we drew a W.

I could have been a contender Part 2

I already wrote about how my brothers are responsible for me not being a great professional athlete. (Click to read).


I realized at an early age that I was not that gifted when it came to sports. Most of my brothers had natural ability or skills in athletics. Me, I played sports like a retarded gorilla. As a matter of fact my nickname on the basketball court was Grape Ape. In an effort to make myself standout I developed an interest in other areas, one of which was theater. Wouldn’t you know it? My brothers are also responsible for me not being an Academy Award winning actor.

Many a times over the years they have either willingly or unwillingly thwarted my attempts at acting. It started when I was in elementary school.

In fourth grade, my English class was going to perform a short play for the entire school and parents for the Halloween assembly. None of my brothers had done any shows before; they were too busy perfecting lay-ups and jump shots. This was my chance to break out and shine, to do something better than them. The play was "The Headless Horsemen". I got a few small parts in the play. In the “Headless Horseman” I was cast as one of Ichabod’s students as well as the Headless Horseman’s horse (shut it, it was a start).

When the big day arrived I made sure that my mom was going to make it to the school on time. She had been to countless Little League games and Pee Wee football games that I knew this was going to impress her. My mom assured me she would pick up Jimmy, the youngest, from morning Kindergarten, and they would both be there. Some of my brothers attended the school so by default they would have to be there for the show. I was going to impress them as well. I knew my lines. I knew my cues. I knew my blocking. I was ready.

The curtain opened with Ichabod, played by Matt Brigaman, teaching his students. He asked his students to recite their ABC’s. That was my cue. I smiled, and in character, belted out my line. “A.B.C.D. E. F…..” Live theater was such a rush.

Just as I reaching the letter "K" my little brother Jimmy, from the back of the Gym, yelled at the top of his lungs, “SHUT UP BILLY.” It echoed off the cinder block walls and the backboards of the basketball nets. “Shut Up..up up up. Billy Billy... illy.”

The audience started laughing. I broke out into a cold sweat. I was in total shock. I was embarrassed. I froze. Live theater sucked. I couldn’t remember the rest of my lines. It was only the rest of the frigging alphabet, but I was stuck. “What the heck comes after ‘K”?” I asked myself. My mouth went dry. My throat closed and my vocal chords started to squeak. Thankfully, Jimmy Elliot, another one of Ichabod’s students bailed me out. He finished the rest of the alphabet.

We finished the scene and I went backstage totally flustered. I could not concentrate on anything else except the fact that my brother totally made me mess up. Before I knew it we were approaching the end of the play.

“Billy.” Mrs. Webb hissed. “Where is your horse costume? You are on in two minutes.”

I rushed to put on the costume. In my haste I did not align the eyeholes properly. I went out on stage as a blind horse, which caused the whole Headless Horseman chasing Ichabod climax ending to be a total disaster. My blindness caused The Headless Horseman, played by Bob M, (who did a magnificent job I might add) to miss Ichabod with the thrown pumpkin. Apparently I was facing a wall.

This was the first of many botched theater performances caused by my brothers.





That's me on the left.

Parlez Vous?

Lauren and I, every so often, talk about the number of kids we would like to have. It does not make much of a difference to me regarding how many, but more importantly that they are close together in age. I think siblings should be no more than 2 years apart. If I had my way they would be only a year a part. I think the closeness in age is good because of the built in friend factor.

My parents had 9 kids in 10 years, no twins, and there is a three year gap between two of my brothers. Do the math. Anyway, growing up, I benefited from having "built in" friends. When I was freshmen in highschool I went through a shift of friends. Besides my best friend Bob, the rest of the crowd I hung out with was constantly changing, except for my brothers.

The brother that is closest to my age is John, AKA LawnWhisperer. When I was freshmen he was a sophomore. We even had one or two classes together. One of the classes we shared was French 1. Due to alphabetical seating arrangements we even sat next to each other. Madame Brust, the teacher, insisted each student pick a French name to address each other. I picked Xavier as my French first name (well you know because of Prof. Charles Xavier the founder of the X-Men) and John picked Jean, because when it was pronounced in French it sounded like John. The teacher, until she learned our names, addressed us by our last names. We, my brother and I, were Monsieur Mitchell*

I remember thinking, "This class is going to be great. John and I could practice speaking a different language at home. We could help each other with homework. We would learn French and have a secret language that no one else in our family would know and we could speak in code. Sibling rivalry will make us compete for better grades. It is so cool that my brother is in my class."

Midway through the school year Madame Brust took an extended leave and we had a substitue teacher for two weeks. Her name was Mrs. Kalmanor (pronounced Cow Manure, No joke). Now, as most times with a subsitute teacher, the class got a little out of hand. The kids, including John, were doing their best to have a good time. If a kid got too out of hand Mrs. Kalmanor would make that student sit in a chair right next to her desk. It was the highschool equivalent of a time out. At one point Mrs. Kalmanor had had enough of John's shenanigans.

"MISTER MITCHELL." She yelled referring to my brother John who was laughing with a fellow student named Jim. "COME UP HERE and sit in THIS chair." She turned her back to the class as she wrote on the chalk board. John walked to the front of the classroom and sat in the chair. I, of course, also being Mister Mitchell walked to the front of the class and sat on John's lap. The class was doing its best to stifle their laughter. It took a few minutes for the teacher to stop writing on the board and return to her desk. She sat down oblivious to the fact that John and I were sharing a chair. She did a double take at us. The class erupted in laughter.

"WHAT ARE YOU TWO DOING?" She screamed.

"Well," I said "You told Mister Mitchell to sit in this chair. I am also Mister Mitchell."

"I meant the other one." She said through gritted teeth and tight lips.

"You should really have specified then." John said.

Mrs. Kalmanor lowered her head into her hands and with a barely audible whisper she said, "Both of you, return to your seats."

Needless to say, when Madame Brust returned to the class she was not happy with us. She separated us to opposite ends of the room for the remainder of the year. With the separation we could no longer assist each other in French. We both failed the class for the year.

Now that I think about it, maybe it is a good idea that my kids are a few years apart.



*Mitchell is not my real last name. If I used my real last name on the internet my mom would have a bird.

It doesn't get any better

Television does not get any better than a Antiques Roadshow episode I have not seen, followed by a Monday Night Football game with the Eagles.


I am an Antiques Roadshow junkie.

Sleep

Every so often I sleep on the couch. Not because I did anything to piss off Lauren but sometimes it is the only way I can get a good nights sleep. Why? Because I snore.

You see Lauren is a light sleeper. She still gets up with Wyatt, every so often, in the middle of the night and then she has a difficult time getting back to sleep. Sometimes my snoring keeps her awake longer. She is very good about waking me up to try to get me to stop snoring.

“Bill,” she whispers. “Roll over. You are snoring.”

Or she will just gently nudge me to let me know I am keeping her awake. Sometimes this happens 3 to 4 times a night. How is a guy supposed to get any sleep with someone waking him all the time? So every so often I just get up and go to the couch.

The other night, she woke me up for the 4th time and I had had enough. I stumbled into the closet to grab a blanket from the normal spot and headed out to the couch so I could get a good night sleep. When Lauren came to wake me up, she laughed at me, “Bill, Do you know you are using a curtain as a blanket?”

Apparently Lauren reorganized the closet.

Brain Surgery

Last night on Grey’s Anatomy there was a guy who needed brain surgery because he had no internal filter and pretty much told people what he was thinking and often it wasn't very nice. The truth hurts.


Lauren thought that I could have starred in that part. Ouch.

Wyatt Blue, 3 Months

At 3 months old he is already showing the signs of being disrespectful.

Signs

While driving up to PA, Lauren says to Bill, after reading a billboard,

“Do you think that Truckers really care that Woo Kim’s massage parlor HAS truck Parking?”

Which started a discussion which I posted about over at the Blogfathers. Go read it and let me know what you think.

Love Bug

One of the interesting things about living in the south is dealing with the different species of animals and critters that are unique to this part of the country. This time of the year the prevalent critter is the Love Bug. They are harmless but they are everywhere. Read about them here and here.

Basically these bugs are like little lightning bugs (without the light) and they fly around with the male stuck to the female. They get all over everything. I was telling Lauren that the problem was even worse over on the coast.

"You should see the amount of love bugs they have over in Tampa. It's worse than here."

"Well that makes sense. The first time I ever saw or heard of a love bug was when we were visiting Clara in Sarasota." Lauren replied.

"Yeah. Me too. It sucks driving. You know it is bad enough when a bug splatters on your windshield but with these bugs it is always two splattering on the winshield at the same time. They are so hard to clean off."

Lauren said, "Yup. But, you know what's gross? You know, as they fly around, they are DOING IT. "

Advice

In trying to keep up with my new years resolution, I decided, the other day, to try the Eye Brow attachment on my hair trimmer thingy. Here is just a suggestion, if you own a hair trimmer like device, you should always just try it out on a small section first before just trimming the whole thing.


Now I don't think I look as bad as you may think, but man, my eyebrows feel naked.

Innocence of Youth

While visiting with the family in PA my brother Kevin and his wife Felicia invited us to their house for dinner. They live about an hour away from my parent’s house, which in most of my family’s eye's, is like living in Florida.

Kevin and Felicia have three kids. K jr. is about 10 and two girls, J and A are 7 and 5 give or take a year or two. Lauren and I were looking forward to hanging out and relaxing while Max played with the girls. The girls were very excited to have Max around so they could show him all of their cool stuff. They are both really good with their younger cousins and Lauren and I figured they would all play nicely.

When we arrived, the girls took Max out to their trampoline, which Max called a bed, in their backyard. They jumped for about 30 minutes when a neighborhood girl, Hannah, showed up and they all went inside. All the kids went up stairs to play with their toys.

Lauren and Felicia and I chatted in the kitchen at the base of the steps and we could hear the kids carrying on. The girls were fawning all over Max and he was loving every minute of it. He was happy to get the attention.

“Max look at this.” J said.

“Max, do want to play with the kitchen?” A said.

"See if he will like this." J said.

This went on for about 5 minutes when Hannah, the neighbor, said, “Let’s put Max in the shopping cart and push him down the steps.”

Lauren stopped in mid-sentence and looked at me, her mouth open.

“Did I just hear them say what I think they said?” I asked Lauren.

“Yes.” She replied.

I turned to Felicia ready to ask her about it when she said to me, “They wouldn’t.” She then paused and said, “At least I think they wouldn’t.”

I decided to go to the top of the steps to look on the kids. Sure enough, Maxfield was trying to climb into the kiddy-shopping cart as the girls looked on. I told the girls that I did not think their plan was a good idea and they went off to play with something else. Now I really do not think that they would have actually pushed him down the steps, but there was enough doubt in my mind that made me check on them and I am glad I did.

I know this will not be the first time that Max will do something stupid for pretty girls.

Crime and Punishment

Maxfield has a habit of throwing his food. When he is full, he likes to take the remaining food and throw it on the floor. Lauren and I have been trying to break him of this habit and have been putting him in Time Out every time he does it. He used to put up a fight, and go to the time out step screaming and kicking.

Last night Max threw his food again. Lauren looked at him and asked, “Max, did you just throw your food?”

Max smiled and said, “No.”

“Are you lying to me?” Lauren asked in a way that only a mother could ask.

“Yes.”

Lauren stood up, fighting a laugh, and told him he would have to go into Time Out. She un-strapped him from his booster seat and he hopped down and walked right over to the Time Out step. He sat for a few minutes until Lauren had talk with him. Once Lauren lifted the Time Out he walked into the kitchen and said, “Sorry Daddy.”

“What are you sorry for, Max?” I said.

“Throw food.”

I don’t know what made me happier; the fact that he went to Time Out without a fuss or the fact that he actually “GOT IT” in regards to what his crime was.

Pictures

My mom is always pretty good at getting the house ready for company. Before my family arrived for an extended stay with them she went all out preparing for our arrival. She bought new blankets and sheets, decorated with monkeys and Thomas the train, for Maxfield’s bed. I arranged to have my brother (thanks Jim and Shannon) drop off a Pack N Play for Wyatt, which my mom had set up all nice and cozy. Even the room Lauren and I were staying in was set up as a nice little shrine to me. Our room was adorned with pictures of me, Lauren and the kids as well as old playbills from some of my past theater performances. My mom even had Superman coasters in the room.

I know it must be difficult for my mom, but she remembered to bring out, dust off and display all the past gifts we have given her. Such as pillows and a table runner that Lauren made for her. She made it appear as though those gifts are always on display in her house, although most likely they were tucked away in the family room closet under an old Monopoly game and a Boggle box that is surely missing some letters.

But with all the perfection of the house, which was geared for my family my mom goofed.

You see, as you walk into my parent’s house, through the front door, immediately on the left is a wall of 8 x 10’s of all of her grandkids. There are 22 pictures hanging on that wall from where the front door opens to the start of the hallway. Those pictures, I am sure, are my mom’s pride and joy (those pictures and the one 8 x 10 of her only son-in-law, Tony who has a special spot in the house). But where my mom goofed, was the arrangement of the pictures. Their front door opens into the house to the left. When the door is left open some of those pictures get covered up. Guess whose pictures were behind that door? That’s right. Max and Wyatt.

You would figure, or at least I would, that since we live a thousand miles away that their pictures would be front and center. But they weren’t. They were tucked back behind the door, barely visible by any guests that may be arriving. Once we noticed the pictures, we realized that all the other preparations were just a ruse, to make us feel loved.

I, of course, mentioned the picture arrangement to my mom. The next day she re-arranged the pictures to our liking; the pictures of Max and Wyatt front and center and the Lawnwhisperer’s kids behind the door.

Back to our regularly scheduled blogging

We are back in Florida. All in all, the trip up North was was very nice. I believe everyone had a nice time and that most of our family was happy to see us. My parents were real troopers for having us for two weeks. As we were heading to the PA Turnpike I turned to Lauren and said, "That is the first time, since we moved, that after seeing my mom, she did not cry when we left."

Lauren said, "She was probably happy to get rid of us."

We stayed with my parent's for two weeks.

Granny, my dad's mom, used to say "Company is like fish. After a few days it begins to stink." and I think we were like fish.

I am not saying they did not enjoy our company but with the new surroundings and what not Maxfield was quite a handful. Here is a list of things he did that would not normally happen at my parent's house if there were no kids around.

1. Assisted with breaking one of my mom's Lennox candle holders.
2. Kept removing a decorative plate above the couch. My mom said Max was the only grandkid to attempt it.
3. He peeled the paint from their tv stand.
4. While my mom had guests over for brunch, Max shattered a plate on the kitchen floor.
5. He ripped down her Irish Blessing wall hanging
6. He vomitted all over her couch and my digital camera (which no longer works.).
7. Max put a rock, about the size of a golfball, into the grill of my brothers Jim's mini van. There was no way to get it out. I am sure the rattle is driving Jim crazy.
8. He smashed a toy that Penny (a neighbor) gave him, into several pieces on my mom's kitchen floor.
9. He drew all over my dad's favorite chair with a ball point pen.

Recurring Dream

I keep having this recurring dream. It is starting to bother me. In my dream, I go to use a public restroom. Just as I am settled in, pants around my ankles and all, my cell phone rings. Out of no where, theat freaky Verizon guy with the glasses from the Verizon commercials appears in the stall with me. Then all of the wireless network people from the commercial appear in the bathroom. The one guy even drops from the ceiling on a rappel line.

I then get stage fright and cannot go.

Judith Jones

If you Googled the name Judith Jones you would find many different people have that name. A Doctor, an architect, a cook, an actress and many more through the 14 million plus search results. Throughout that search, every so often, a result shows that will usually read “Judith Jones, 53, Woodbridge VA. Pentagon.” It is that particular Judith I want to tell you about.

We bloggers learn a lot about each other from reading each other’s blogs day in and day out. I know more about the life of some bloggers I have never met, than I do of the lives some of my oldest friends. Blogging does that. I want you to get to know Judith Jones. Since it will be mostly bloggers that read this I want to imagine what Judith’s blog entries would have looked like. The following is based on information I have gathered from the inter-net as well as from Judith’s daughter.


July 2000
I went to the beach today. It is amazing how much I love the beach. The beach is absolutely my favorite place to be. There is nothing greater than having the salt air cutting across the beach as I have squeeze the sand between my toes while listening to the waves crash. No I need to change that. There is something greater than that. That would be if I could do all of that and hear the laughter of my grandchildren playing in the surf. I will make sure I take them with me the next time I go.

November 2000.
Thanksgiving was fantastic this year. I invited a few co-workers over to celebrate with my family. It is shame that some of the people I work with are so far away from their families for the holidays. But I guess that is the nature of the military. I am glad that I can share my family with them and hopefully give them a sense of family for the holidays. I also need to remember to bring in a cake next week for “Pat’s” birthday.
Go Redskins!!

May 2001.
I lost a dear, dear friend recently. I knew her for 30 years. She was diagnosed with a terminal illness and it was only a matter of time but it is always sad. I did everything I could for her while she fought this illness. Visiting every weekend. Helping her with her house and doing chores for her. I have two other friends that I help in this way as well. It never gets old helping people. The friend that just passed, I loved playing Rummy with her. There were many weekends spent just playing cards. Now that she is gone I will need to find another card player. Maybe I can teach some of the kids at the church nursery, where I volunteer, how to play. I am sure they will love to learn a few card games.

June 2001
I just love being the “secret mail person” for my grandkids. I don’t know where I got the idea, but I leave them secret notes in the backseat of their car. I always try to leave them a little message. Things like:

Make sure you make your bed in the morning
Make sure you tell your mom you love her.
Don’t forget to say your prayers before bedtime.
Pickup your room before going to bed, that way if you have to pee in the middle of the night you won’t step on anything.

I always sign the notes “Secret Mail Person.” I know that the grandkids love getting the notes because as soon as they get in the car they look for them. I figure it is a way for them to learn a little something from their grandmom.

---------------------------------------------------
Judith was not the type of person to have a blog. She was very humble and most likely would not post about all the good things she had done in her life. She was a remarkable person who loved her family, her friends, her co-workers and her grandkids. One story that was sent to me from her daughter was that in the mid 90’s Judith inherited some money. She ended up cutting a check to her church because Judith didn’t need anything and she wanted to make sure that the money was directed to people who had needs. That was what Judith Jones was about.

I write about Judith Jones today as part of the 2996 9-11 tribute. If you Googled the name Judith Jones you would find a doctor, an architect, an actress and you will find “Judith Jones 53, Woodbridge VA. Pentagon.” It is sad that you will not find out about all the wonderful things she has done. All the different lives she touched. What type of wonderful person she was. Maybe now, after I post this, you will.

I did not know Judith Jones in real life. The imagined blog is based on information that I gathered about Judith Jones and all the good things that she did. She helped others. She volunteered her time to help people in need. She loved her daughter and her grandchildren but she also loved people and did what she could for people. I say again, I know that this will be read mostly by bloggers and most bloggers communicate through comments. Please do me a favor and leave a comment for Judith’s “blog”. Not mine, but to hers. She was a good person and I am glad I got to know her.

Magic House

I have been spending my vacation in Pennsylvania and will be here for a little while longer. We are staying with my parents. One of the coolest things about staying with my parents is the fact that they have a magic house.

How is it magic you ask? I will give you some examples of the weird happenings.

Before driving up to PA I mentioned to my mom how much I like sausage, biscuits and gravy. Guess what we had for breakfast on the first day in PA? Sausage, biscuits and gravy.

I mentioned to my mom how much I like Dorito's, guess what, the very next night there were Dorito's in the pantry.

While I was snacking on my Dorito's with my mom, she asked what was my favorite snack. I told her Cheetos. The very next day there was a big bag of Cheetos waiting for me when I got home.

Magic I tell ya. Magic.

Question

Once you have had Oreo Double Stuff cookies why would you ever go back to the regular Oreo's?

I am a boob

I keep telling stories about how I am misunderstood or how people do not get my sense of humor. In defense of all my neighbors I have to admit I do not know many of them well enough or I should say they do not know me well enough to get me. I know if I spent more time with them they would eventually get to know me better but until then there will be miscommunication.

Our neighbor Jane called the other day to wish us a safe trip. Lauren was out running errands while I was home with the kids. Wyatt was not happy because it was time for him to be fed. It was while Wyatt was screaming that Jane called.

I answered the phone, “Hello.”

“Hi Bill this is Jane. How are you?”

“Good. And you?”

“Good. Is Lauren there?”

“No she ran out for a bit. She should be back soon. I will tell her to call you.”

“Okay. I was just calling to wish you a safe trip.”

“I’m sorry. What did you say? Wyatt is screaming and I am having a hard time hearing you.”

“Oh. Is everything okay there?”

“Yes. He is just mad at me because he is hungry and I don’t have boobs.”

“Oh Well I am sure you will soon.”

“What? I figured I have another five years before I get them. I mean I know I am not in the best of shape but c’mon.” I said with a chuckle.

“What? I meant I am sure Lauren will be home soon.”

“Oh.”

Long Weekend.

Enjoy the long weekend. I will be MIA for a few days. If you find yourself looking for different blogs to read I have a few recommendations.

So the Fish Said
Beth is Mia's mom and she usually has entertaining posts that range from parenting to her old flames and her hot pediatrician.

Rude Cactus
Chris is Beth's husband from So the Fish Said. His post's are all over the place. Some political stuff (which if you agree with his views it's great, if you don't, just muddle through because they are still funny) to funny pictures and stories. His August 15th post about caulk is classic. He also every so often throws in a hooker reference which always amuse me.

StepBlog
A fairly new blog about being a stepmom as well as tidbits about music and entertainment. Well written. She is a real life friend of mine who I have not seen in many years.

Metro Dad
The dude is too funny.

Desperate Working Momma
Cat has recently revamped her blog and has included video. The video's are hysterical and her writing is the Shiz-nit (You have to read her blog to know why I used the word Shiz-net.)

Dad Vs. Dad
My brother The LawnWhisperer's blog. He is funny (when and if he post's). His stories about his kids are funny (when and if he posts). He loves getting comments (when and if he posts).




I was digging through some old pictures and found one of Maxfield from when he was about 9 months old.

Often Misunderstood

One of our neighbors stopped by the other day for a brief visit. She did not stop by to visit Lauren or myself but to see Wyatt and talk baby talk. It is weird how babies have that effect on women.

While she was chatting she mentioned there was a Garden/Museum place that, on occasion shows movies outside and that Lauren and I should check it out. People can bring picnic baskets tour the gardens and watch a movie. She said it was a great place for a date. It would be romantic and she said it was only five bucks a person.

I said, “That sounds nice. Can we make-out? Because if I am spending five bucks and it is a movie I want to make-out.”

At first she didn’t quite get what I was saying and she looked at me like I was strange. Then she kind of caught the joke and changed the subject.

After she left, I started to think maybe she thought I was asking her, our neighbor, if her and I could make-out.

Dizzying Intellect

One of the things I love about Lauren is the fact that she tries and ususally succeeds to think like I would in certain situations. The most common situtaion she goes into "dizzying intellect" mode is when she is looking for something that she knows I just used.

She'll call me at work.
Bill: This is Bill Can I help you?

Lauren: Hi. It's me. Do you know where the Phillips head screwdriver is?

Bill: I just used it last night to change the batteries in Maxfiled's truck.

Lauren: I know.

Bill: Is it in the toolb...

Lauren: Not it is not in the tool box that is why I am calling you.

Bill: Is it in on the shelf as you walk into...

Lauren:..the garage. No I checked.

Bill: How about be....

Lauren: Behind it? Already Checked.

Bill: On the shelf thingy next to the...

Lauren: Airconditioner? Nope. Not there.

Bill: Did you look on the drys...

Lauren: The Drysink. Yes. Not the left drawer though because you wouldn't put it in the left drawer.

Bill: The mantle

Lauren: I checked.

Bill: On top of the refridgerator.

Lauren: Checked.

Bill: The cabinet where the coffee mugs are.

Lauren: Why would you put it in there?

Bill: Because, when I finished with the batteries I probably went to get something...

Lauren: ..to drink, and you figured you would just leave the screwdriver there.

Bill: Yes.

Lauren: That was the first place I checked. It is not there.

Bill: Oh. Well, then I can't tell you where I put it.

Lauren: That is why you should just put it back where it belongs in the tool box.

Bill: But I love the way you think like I do trying to figure out where I would leave it.

Lauren: But I don't like to think like you ...Oh wait a minute. Hold on.

(Pause)

Lauren: I found it.

Bill: Where?

Lauren: In your closet.

Bill: My closet?

Lauren: Yeah. You probably put the screwdriver in your pocket and when you went to get changed for bed you emptied your pockets and instead of putting the screwdriver back in the toolbox like you should have at that time, you just put in on the shelf in your closet. I knew I would figure it out.

Pee Coach

I posted this over at the Blogfathers last week.

My oldest son, Max, is two and half. We have been slowly introducing him to potty training. Right now he is afraid of the toddler training potty and refuses to go near it unless he wants to stand on it to reach the sink. He is, however, fascinated with the regular toilet. As part of his basic potty training it has now fallen on me to “show” him how daddy goes.

Every time I have to pee, I invite him into the bathroom to show him how daddy pees. At first, like most kids his age, he was only interested in flushing. Each time we would go in to the bathroom he would run over to the toilet and grab the handle so he would be the one who would get to flush. He was very protective of the handle. After a few demonstrations, he realized that I would let him flush and he became more interested in the actual act of urination. Without the distraction of having both his hands around the toilet handle he felt it would be okay to try and break my stream.

“Don’t touch” and “No” were not working so I finally told him that the stream was “Hot”. He understands hot.

Now that he has a better understanding of the process as well as some basic language skills, he now feels the need to commentate on what is going on. I don’t know about the rest of you fathers out there but I am not used to having someone give me the play by play as I pee. But my son, every time, gives it his best. The following is his two-year-old coverage of daddy peeing.
“Reddee, set, GO!….Is hot daddee. Is hot… Bubbles? Lellow Bubbles. Hot lellow bubbles daddee. All done? All done.” He then flushes and follows up with, “Bye Bye bubbles. Yay Daddee”

I have not been able to give him the finer points of aiming because I am usually laughing so hard at his play by play that my aim is a little off. He also misses the whole “shake” part with his commentary but that is because he is so into the bubbles.

I know there are tons of books, videos, blogs and what-have-you on this subject, from leaving M&M’s on the tank to using Cheerios for aiming practice but do you think example is the best way to teach?

Big Boy

Wyatt had his two month check up the other day and apparently two month old boys are not supposed to weigh 15 lbs 8oz, because that weight is not on the growth chart arch.

Poor Pluto

Man Very Early Makes Jelly Sandwiches Under Neighbor's Porches.

(Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus (heh heh), Neptune, Pluto.)

That is how I remember the planets. I know there are other memory tricks out there for the planets but now that astronomers are saying Pluto is no longer a planet I am going to have to change my little acrostic (I looked this word up on dictionary dot com) because I can't just have it end with Neighbor. That would not make sense.

So people of the internet, can you make up a new acrostic for me to use? Please try and keep it clean because I may pass this knowledge on to my kids. Hell it does not have to be clean but remember my mom reads this blog.

Max Loves his parents.

Photo Sharing - Upload Video - Video Sharing

Number one

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 directed a middle finger gesture to my dad in front of me. 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.

Number one
Originally uploaded by batmeaks.

"Hey Uncle LawnWhisperer, I think you are Number One."

Question of the Ages

I am sure this question is heard by many fathers, after they were watching the kids while the mother was away and upon her return it is the first words out of her mouth.

What in the hell is he wearing?

Pillow Talk

Pillow Talk a play by William (slightly embellished from a true story)


The curtain opens to reveal a typical bedroom. There is a queen size bed center stage with a golden colored bed spread and four off-white pillows resting by the head board. There are two night stands on either side of the bed which hold reading lamps an alarm clock and a few magazines. Resting on a rocking chair, down center left, are two smaller seat pillows and two King Size pillows. The two king size pillows are a striped golden color with a black fringe which matches the decor of the entire room. There is NOT a sock, nor a pair of mens underwear any where on the floor. There is closet to the left of the bed that is impeccably clean and all of the mens clothing that hangs in the closet is in perfect order.

Bill, a good looking man in his 30s with six pack abs enters. He climbs onto the bed in an effort to get comfortable. It is apparent that he is retiring for the evening. He is fidgeting with two of the pillows at the head board when Lauren enters. Lauren is a thing of beauty, with shoulder length brown hair, dazzling eyes, and a body that deserves to be on the cover of "Hot Mom's" magazine.

Bill:Lauren? Where is the third pillow?

Lauren: The ones that I just made the new matching pillow cases for?

Bill: Umm. Yeah. I guess.

Lauren: We're not using them.

Bill: Why? They were the best and fluffiest and newest pillows that we own.

Lauren: Exactly. That is why I made pillow cases for them that matches the window treatments and the bedspread.

Bill: Well, why can't I use the pillow?

Lauren: Do you want to ruin them?

Bill: No. But a pillow is supposed to be used for sleeping. And they were the best ones we had.

Lauren: Exactly. They will last longer if we do not use them.

Bill: Sure they will. If we do not use them. But THAT is what they are supposed to be for.

Lauren: They are decorative now.

Bill: Why did you not make new pillow cases for the worse pillows and make them be decorative?

Lauren: What would be the point of that? Why would I want bad pillows to be decorative?

Bill:Because then we could use the good pillows.

Lauren: The new pillow cases are to protect the newer pillows, beside, they fill out the pillow cases better.

Bill: But what's the point of protecting the pillow if you are not going to use it?

Lauren: Did you ever see how much you slobber all over the pillows when you are asleep? I am not going to let you do that to my new pillow cases. I worked hard on them.

Bill: But what is the point of having fluffier nicer pillows if we are not going to use them.

Lauren: Oh we will. Once we get newer pillows you will be able to use the pillows that have the new caes on them.

Bill: I'm confused.

Lauren: That's okay. Go to sleep.

Bill: But I need the third pillow.

Lauren: No you don't.

Bill: Why do we need to the pillows to be decorative anyway. It is just you and me.

Lauren: So you believe. Go to sleep.

Well Wishes

As I stood and watched my son playing at the indoor play area at the mall I started to well up. He was having a good time running and jumping amongst other kids who were strangers. But, what got me was the fact that he was not interacting with the other kids. Every time he made an effort to join in, the other kids shunned him. Each time he approached the steps to the slide he would let the older kids edge their way past him and he would miss his turn. I watched as he chased some of the kids closer to his age, only to have them run away, not in the effort to encourage the chase, but more so to get away from him until he gave up. I know he is only two and half and he is at an awkward stage where the lack of the ability to communicate properly gets in his way, but it would be nice to see him make friends. Or more accurately it would be nice to see other children want to befriend him. He was not assertive, which I guess is okay.

Every so often he would look to where I was standing to make sure I could see how high he was jumping. To make sure I caught the summersault he just performed. He would see me smile and he would smile back and run off to do another stunt to impress me. He jumped from the top step of the hollow tree and he took a decent spill. He lay motionless for a few seconds; stunned but not hurt, until he heard me say from across the way, “Brush it off.” He smiled as he sprung up brushing off his hands as if he meant to take the spill and ran off to do it again. It was then that the lump appeared in my throat.

I realized, at this point in his life I am my son’s best friend. He didn’t care that the other kids were not playing with him. He only cared that I was playing with him (even though it was from the sidelines, because if I were to run and jump with him the mall security guards would cart me off). I was overcome with the emotion of the fact that I mean everything to this kid.

I walked over to him and suggested we go throw coins into the fountain. We took the 26 pennies I had in my pocket and made a wish with each one. We wished for good health for his four grandparents. We made wishes for his brother and his mom that they will always be happy. We wished that the dog and two cats would never be hungry. We wished for healing of friends, Horace and Susie who are sick. We wished for nice visits with family and friends. I took the last three coins and made three wishes. A wish that my son would eventually know that he means everything to me. A wish that he will have lots of friends. And the third wish was for chocolate covered pretzels.

We then walked to the candy stand and I bought some chocolate covered pretzels just so my son and maybe myself would know that some wishes come true.

Ice Ice Baby

We were sitting at the dinner table in the kitchen when Maxfield heard the icemaker drop a tray of ice. Maxfield loves ice. He loves playing with it and he loves eating it and he loves making a a mess with it.

"Iise Mom-Mee, Iise?"

"No Max. Eat your dinner."

"Iise Dad-Dee, Iise?"

"No Maxfield. No ice."

After realizing that he could not play Lauren and I against each other he tried a different approach. He looked over his entire body, searching. He settled on his knee which was unmarked and pointed at it.

"Boo boo? Boo boo. Iise." Max said.

Lauren laughed, "You don't have a boo boo. Let's eat."

Max got louder. "Boo boo IISE!"

"Maxfield, you do not have a boo boo." I said. "We are not getting you ice."

"Boo boo?" He said in almost a whimper.

Lauren shook her head. "No Boo Boo."

Maxfield looked at Lauren, looked at me and then back to Lauren. You could see something click in his head. He bent his arm out in front of him so his hand was touching his shoulder. He raised his elbow above his head and slammed it against the table. Hard. He winced and then pointed to elbow and said, "Boo Boo!"

Lauren and I practically fell out of our chairs laughing. Of course I got him ice. Not for his boo boo, but for his ingenuity.

School Bells

Last week school started for all the kids in our neighborhood and Lauren made sausage, pepper and onion sandwiches for dinner the night before. What does one have to do with the other? It goes like this.

Every morning I wake up at about 5:30. Part of my morning routine is taking the dog for her morning walk. We usually hit the sidewalk by 6:00 am. I enjoy this part of the morning. The sky is still dark and the soft glow of the streetlights reflects off the dew on the yards, which creates a strange orange ambient light. There is something peaceful about the croak of the tree frogs mixed with the distant noise of early traffic. Occasionally I cross paths with jogger, but for the most part I am the only person out in the neighborhood at this time. Last week, the day school started, I got a late start.

The dog and I did not get out for our morning walk until about 6:40. The sun was not up and there were dark clouds in the sky. The streetlights were out, turned off a few minutes ago by their timers. The neighborhood was strangely dark. The area I live in has beautiful tree lined streets. The easement between the sidewalk and the street is about 10 feet wide and every 10 or 15 feet or so is a large mature oak (or some such) tree. The trunks of these trees are 2 to 3 feet wide.

The dog and I headed East, stopping every so often for the dog to pee. We rounded the corner when I felt the pressure in my lower gut. The sausage, pepper and onions were seeking their revenge. I looked in all directions to make sure the coast was clear. There was tree on the corner and a stop sign. No one across, down or up the street. All Clear. I let her rip. The fart started slowly but, Increased in volume and ended with a crescendo. The dog turned up at me with a puzzled look.

I felt much better and we continued to walk when I heard a strange noise. I couldn't place where it was coming from but it was a familiar sound. It sounded like a wheeze. I stopped and listened and the noise became stifled. I stood for a minute to see if I could find the source of the sound. What was it? I turned toward the tree on the corner that separated the sidewalk from the street. The noise was coming from the other side of the tree. Then it hit me. I was horrified.

I tightened my grip on the dog's leash and headed across the street to verify what I was thinking. As I crossed, I glanced back and saw a kid leaning against the tree trying his best not to laugh hysterically. He was waiting for the school bus. I did not know he was there. I hurried down the street, as his snicker became more of a loud giggle. I wanted to die.

Third Date by Momo9

I never did date anyone else after the second date.

On our third date we went to a club. Danced all night long. We sang along to all the music. We both liked Rock’n’Roll. We fast danced and slow danced. Even though he told me he wasn’t crazy about dancing, he knew I liked it, so he did it. We talked and talked. We were getting to know each other well (I was falling in love). Almost love at first sight.

During this date he confessed that the only reason he asked me out the first time, was that his mother suggested he do it. I said, “What?”

He explained that he asked three girls out for that first Saturday date. They turned him down, so his mom suggested me (see what I mean about being a jerk). Maybe he was trying to be funny. Oh well, there were so many nice things about him, that I overlooked his nasty (humorous) remarks. I sort of liked his mother for mentioning me (we lived in the same neighborhood).

This date went very well. We talked on the porch again till the wee hours of the morning.
This was a Bingo date!
I got a kiss goodnight, and another and another! Bingo!

This is the guy who could stay out late back then. Dance and dance, and play football, basketball and baseball and never stop.
This is also the guy, today, who gets into his pajamas at 5:30pm, sits and watches the news and sports center, and would never think of asking me to dance. This is the guy who would stay awake for hours and talk to me and only me. And now barely says hello, goodbye, or goodnight. He falls asleep by 8:30 pm. Of course, if I’m lucky, I do get a game of Scrabble out of him before he retires for the evening and a kiss goodnight.
I truly did marry a winner!

Second Date by Momo9

Guest post by William's mom. Part two of a three part story about how she met my dad.

He was really playing it smooth on that first date!
The very next morning, he called. He asked if I would go to a football game that he was playing in. After the game there would be a social. A meal and dancing. I was shocked that he called. I was excited, and felt better about our first date. I really felt he didn’t like me. However I was wrong. I went to the game, met his friends, and went dancing into the night. This night he wore his own shoes and clothes. We had a good time! We talked for hours again. I was beginning to like this cocky jerk! Amazing!

Still no kiss!

Was it my breath? (be quiet sons)

Or was he still playing it smooth?

First Date by Momo9

I asked my mom to guest post for me for a couple of days. I never really asked my parents about how they met, so for Momo9's first guest post I aksed her to write about their first date.
A little background. My mom is the oldest of 12 and my dad is the oldest of 8. My mom lived only 2 blocks from my dad's parent's house.

First Date by Momo9.

We went to the movies and saw, “ Seven Brides for Seven Brothers”. (It is true, believe it or not). But first we had to stop at the pharmacy, so I could buy a toothbrush for my little sister, who was starting to brush by herself. He let me stop and let me drop it off for her before we left on our date. He was very patient and kind.

After the movie, we went to a club for a drinks and dancing. While dancing, I stepped on his feet. I was so apologetic. He said, “Don’t worry, they’re not my shoes. They belong to my roommate”. We danced a lot! The place got warm. I suggested he take off his sport coat. He said he couldn’t because he only ironed the front of his dress shirt. The sleeves and back were all wrinkled. A “mess” he said. Then he confessed that the sport coat was also his roommate’s. I wanted to ask him about his underwear. I really didn’t want to know whom that belonged to. So I did not ask.

We had a lot of conversation that night as most people do on a first date. We had a lot in common. However, every piece of clothing that I wore belonged to me. He was a gentleman, a good listener, a good dancer, not great, but good. We knew a lot of the same people. So, I decided, if he asked me out again, I would say yes. If he wanted a kiss goodnight, I would go along with it. We did talk for a long time on the porch, after we arrived at my house. He did not ask me out for a second time that night, and did not make an attempt to kiss me goodnight. What a jerk!

Stay tuned for Momo9

First off, Shit. Mother Fucker. Stupid Fucking Graco. Son of a Bitch. GodDamn Double Stroller. Where the fuck did I put the wheel cap. Stupid fucking piece should fit right on the wheel. Double Fuck. Graco sucks shit. Holy shit I can't believe that worked. You got to be a fucking midget or have really small hands to put this togehter. Fucking Graco, do they expect the babies to put this thing together?


I feel better now. On Sunday Maxfield helped me put together a new double stroller. Every time I wanted to curse the thing I had to bite my tongue. I just needed to get that off my chest.


I asked my mom, Momo9, to fill in for me for the next few days. Some of you may have read her comments on various posts here and on LW's site. When I asked her to fill in for a few days, she asked me what should she write about. Being totaly inspired by Nilbo's* epic story on his blog, about how his parents met, I suggested my mom tell me/us about her first date with my dad, since I did not know the story. So over the next few days my mom will be posting about her first few dates with my dad.


*Nilbo's blog is very funny and interesting (which coming from me is like a highschool quarterback complimenting Peyton Manning). Nilbo recently has been telling the story of how his parents met. He is up to or around chapter 14. Go back and read it from the beginning. It has Fencing, fighting, torture, revenge, giants, monsters, chases, escapes, true love, miracles... Ok, it does not have all of those things, that is actually from the Princess Bride. But Nilbo's story reads like the Princess Bride but only different.

Those Guys

Do you remember the days, before kids and responsibilities, when Saturday morning was reserved for sleeping in? When Saturday mornings were met with a slight fog of a hangover, a bottle of Gatorade, and Saved By The Bell re-runs. When a hangover was not a reminder of how old you are, but more of a reminder of the great time you had the night before. Do you remember when a the first cup of coffee you would sip on a Saturday morning was at 11:00 am, and you did not make the coffee at your house, you ran out to get it at Mc Donald’s, along with a Sausage McMuffin, before the serving breakfast cut-off time?

Maybe you remember, back in those times, when one of your idiot neighbors would start mowing his yard at 8:30 am. You know the neighbor was one of THOSE GUYS. You would wake to the sound of an engine running, two doors down, and you would say to yourself, “I can’t believe someone is cutting their grass before 9 o’clock.” Or maybe it was a Saturday morning in the fall and you would hear one of THOSE GUYS start his leaf blower, which sounded like a jet engine, at 8 in the morning.

In the winter you knew that one of THOSE GUYS was going to be the first to start his 500-gazillion horsepower snow blower before 8 o’clock because he wanted to get a jumpstart on the 4 inches of powder covering the walks. You would pull the pillow over your head and suffer through the sweet whiskey smell of your own breath trying to drown out the horrible noise. You would think, “What in the Hell does THAT GUY think he is doing? Does he not have consideration for us people who like to sleep in? Asshole.”

Some Saturdays you would stumble out of your room to get a bit of the hair of the dog and you knew you were going to tell one of THOSE GUYS off. Motors and engines should not be allowed to be running before 10 o’clock. There should be a law for crying out loud. And as you are putting on your shoes to go and confront one of THOSE GUYS, you get distracted by couch and decided to lie down for a few minutes, thinking, “I can’t believe someone is cutting their grass before 9 o’clock. Assholes.”

This past weekend, I became on of THOSE GUYS.

Sorry to anyone who may be younger and have less responsibility.

Sucker

Yesterday I received a weekly ad flyer from Albertson’s grocery store. I was flipping through it to see what types of sales they were having. I grabbed a pen and a pad of paper to write down some of the items. We usually shop at Publix but on the rare occasion Albertson’s has a good deal I will go there.

“What are you doing?” Lauren asked.

“I am making a list for Albertson’s.”

“Why? Is there anything good?”

“Not really, but look at this.” I held up the paper. “They have these items for sale at a dollar a piece. But if you buy 20 you get an instant five-dollar rebate so it will only cost 15 bucks. And it is not 20 of the same item, you can mix and match.”

“What type of items are we talking about?”

“David’s Sunflower seeds, you know I like them. And Crunch and Munch, Ketchup, Chef Boyardee Ravioli, Manwich stuff. Oh and look, Hunt's diced tomatoes andTomato paste.” I threw the last two in to make a case that I was actually planning on food shopping and not snack shopping.

“We can get tomato paste at Publix cheaper.” She said trying to take the wind out of my sails.

“But look Lauren, they have Microwave popcorn.”

“Bill, we do not need any of that stuff.”

“But Lauren they have Giant Slim Jims for less than a dollar.” Catching myself I added, “Not that I would buy 20.”

“But it is all stuff we would not normally use. It is to get you to buy the name brands when the store brand is just as good and cheaper.”

“I know,” I hung my head and said under my breath, “but they have Giant Slim Jims for sale.”

Lauren rolled her eyes and took a sip of her coffee. “You are such a sucker. YOU are the exact person they try to reach with those ads.”

Belly

Pet Peeve.

Okay, I understand, if I call you and leave you a message on your voice mail and you call me right back (within 5 minutes) and you have not listened to your message because you just noticed I called on your caller ID and you figured you would just call me back. I get that.

It is a complete other thing if I call you and leave a message on your voice mail and you call me back say like two hours later and did not check you message but you saw that I called on the caller ID and figured you would just call me back. You should have just listened to the damn message. That is what the voice mail is for.

Yes I am cranky today.

Apology to my wife

No woman, when sitting down at the computer table to check her email, should have to say, "Bill this is gross. Is this a finger nail or a toe nail sitting on the table?"



It was a toe nail Sorry.

Don't you hate it...

... when you are doing the dishes* and you are leaning against the counter with your hips, because you need a little extra leverage to scrub a pan, and the force of the water and the force of the scrubbing splashes all over you and pools up in that area on the counter between the stainless steel sink and your hips and you don't notice it soaking into the front of your jeans when the door bell rings, so you answer the door and looks like you wet your pants.








*4 out of 5 women recommend husbands that do dishes.

Clean up

I have to clean up a few things that have been sitting in my note book.

First and foremost Eclectic won the "Guess Wyatt Blue's Birtday" contest from back in June. She was the only person to actually guess the right day. I sent her a book, which I hope she enjoys because if she does not, well, that was a waste of a perfectly good guess. I was supposed to mail her an Abe Lincoln copper-esque medallion but Maxfiled keeps throwing all the ones I have into the fountain at the mall.

I also have to point out that Circus Kelli made a very cool picture for Susie over at "What was I Thinking". Susie has become a medical conundrum and knows that only bloggers give a rats' ass. I read Susie's blog whenever she updates and due to her medical mystery she does not update all that often. But I want her to know that I give a rat's ass.




And lastly, the cover of the next "Beef Cake" magazine.

The look I usually get

The other night I was at the grocery store with Maxfield when we bumped into one of our neighbors. I was chatting with her in the aisle as Max was ducking back and forth behind a floor freezer in an attempt to play peek-a-boo with her. She was smiling and being playful with Max and asking him “little kid” questions.

“You’re getting so big Max. How old are you?”

“Tooooo.” Max said as he held up his two fingers.

“What comes after two?”

“Treeeeee.” He held up three fingers.

“Wow. You can count. Can’t you max?”

At this point Max got distracted by a neon sign just a few feet away. He walked over to the sign and pointed at each letter. “Beeee. Eeeee. Ceeee. Krrrkkayy. Esssss.” He proudly said.

My neighbor turned to me with a big smile on her face and said, “Wow he is so smart. For a two year old to know his letters, that is great.”

“Well,” I said, “I have only taught him how to spell the names of beers.”

The smile on her face quickly changed to a look of bewilderment as she tried to figure out whether I was serious or not.

Instigate

Certain members of my family have recently accused me of “Instigating” due to my past few posts. I was laughing as I was telling Lauren about the numerous conversations I had with family members about this blog.

“My mom says I am instigating.”

“Well you are. You get it from your father.”

“What do you mean?”

“He is always trying to start trouble. When he was here for the baptism there were a few times he said stuff to me. I asked him if he was trying to start trouble and he said he likes to make it rough for you guys. I think he said “as rough as you guys make it for him” or something like that.”



If you get a chance go to yesterdays post and read the comment from MomO9

Bahama Mama

I was talking to my brother Kevin about his recent trip to visit us here in Florida with my parents. After Kevin and his wife and my Mom and Dad left Orlando they flew to the Bahamas for a few days.

"Did you guys have a good time?" I asked.

"Yes. It was awesome."

"Did Mom and Dad like the Bahamas?"

"Yes." replied Kevin.

"Did they have a good time?"

"Yes. Almost too good of a time."

I looked at him with a rasied eyebrow to which he answered.

"I'm saying you might be getting a little baby sister out of the deal."

Scrapped

They say a picture is worth a thousand words. What does a lack of pictures mean?


Right before I moved from Pennsylvania to Florida I asked my mom for one gift for Maxfield. The gift was very important to me. I asked that she make a scrap book with pictures of all of his cousins and aunts and uncles. I wanted to use the scrapbook as a guide and tool for Max to get to know his family.

My mom did an excellent job. Of course there are pictures of MaMa and Pa (my parents). There are pictures of all my siblings and their families. There is Uncle Soprano and Aunt Edie Falco (my sister), Uncle Tripleareola and his family, Uncle Pez (aka Anonymous) and and his wife and kids. My mom included pictures of Uncle Bacardiandcoke and his family, Uncle Vicki and Aunt John (Aka LawnWhisperer), Uncle Shamu, his wife and three kids, Uncle Popnpuss and his new family, as well as Baby Jesus and his wife and three kids (at the time he only had three now he has four). There are also pictures of Mommom and Poppop (Lauren's parents), Lauren's sister as well as pictures of Max's godparents, Mr. Miyagi and Aunt Bridget Mc.

It is a nice book that Maxfield and I review once a week so he will recognize all the important people in his life that he does not see on a regular basis.

Just this evening I was reviewing the pictures with Max when I noticed something peculiar. In the scrapbook there are at least two pictures of every one of my siblings except for Uncle Pez and the LawnWhisperer. There is only one picture of each them. I wonder what my mom was getting at by having more pictures of everyone else in the scrapbook.

Debate

Never has a post here caused as much controversy as the one about Thomas the tank engine and friends being dicks. Not so much with the blog-o-sphere, but with members of my family. The post has prompted many phone calls from my siblings.

The second call, from Jim was in regards to my lack of mental filter. The third call was from my brother Mike to tell me he was letting his kids play with Thomas. And the first, fourth, fifth, sixth and seventh call (I am sure there will be more) were all from LawnWhisperer. LW is a little upset at the fact that I said:

“Sure I let my son play with the trains but I don’t want him picking upon the how the trains treat each other on the videos.”

He finds it absolutely ridiculous that parent’s blame TV shows for adversely influencing their kids. He also finds it absolutely hysterical that I could be one of those parents. He pointed out the fact that we grew up watching Road Runner, Tom and Jerry and Bugs bunny cartoons and that we never dropped anvils on each other (Susie from Raising Liam also pointed this out) and that I was the worst when it came to how much time was spent in front of the TV.

He said it was all about parenting, which I know and I got his point after the first phone call and I agree with him. However, it was the 4 or so subsequent phone calls that he made to me to drive his point home.

“Bill, this is LW, I was watching Wiley E Coyote this weekend with the kids and you won’t believe what happened. Luke dropped Kyle off a cliff.”

“Bill, I was watching Finding Nemo this weekend with the kids and now Kyle thinks he can live underwater.”

“Bill, We watched Sponge Bob and now the kids think it is okay to live under a pineapple.”

“Bill, We were watching Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles this weekend and now the kids won’t listen to me. They will only listen to a giant Rat.”

During each one of these conversations he had me laughing at the different scenarios he would create. They would get bigger and broader in scope. We talked about steroids in baseball and violent lyrics in music. He said, “Any person that listens to Ozzy and goes out and kills someone, was going to kill someone anyway, regardless of the music. They just use the music as an excuse. People got to stop blaming this stuff.”

I told him I totally agreed with him but since I actually posted something to the contrary he had ammunition for a long time to make fun of me. On his last phone call to me about this topic he summed it up.

“You saying that your kids will be mean to each other because Thomas and his friends are mean to each other is like…well let me put it this way. If I were to watch porn it does not mean I am going to get laid.”

Pictures

Maxfield training an army of ducks.

Wyatt Blue lifting his head.

Terrible T.O.'s

Last night I am sitting in the Barnes and Noble children’s area watching Max play with the Thomas the train set. I was in a mood. Not a good mood, not a bad mood, just one of those moods. There were two other kids there with their fathers and we were exchanging the normal small talk of “How old is your son?” and “Terrible twos and sharing” and “blah blah blah.”

Dad #1 started discussing the Thomas the train videos and how much his son loves them to Dad #2. The other dad was clueless to the Thomas videos. His son has never seen them and really isn’t into the train thing. Dad #1 was saying how he thinks Dad #2’s son would probably like them because they are simple yet interesting and how George Carlin is the voice on most of the tapes. Dad # 2 seemed interested.

It was at this point that I had to speak up. “Just because Carlin is doing the voice it does not make them funny. And quite frankly I don’t think the videos actually have much to offer kids. Sure I let my son play with the trains but I don’t want him picking upon the how the trains treat each other on the videos.”

“How is that?” Said Dad #1.

“They just aren’t nice to each other.” I responded.

“What do you mean?” Said Dad #2.

“Well, I can’t point out specifics but I have seen many of the videos and well the trains are just, how do I say this? The trains just treat each other… they are selfish and mean…they just. All of the trains are D-I-C-K-H-E-A-D-S.”

Both dads looked at me while they computed what I had spelled out. Dad # 1 nodded his head in agreement and said, “I see what you mean.”

The conversation switched to where we each are from and I mentioned Philly. Dad #1 started talking about the Eagles and how they lost T.O. to Dallas. He was a Dallas fan. I explained that the Eagles didn’t lose T.O. but they got rid of him. I told him that I thought he was an exceptional player but that the Eagles were better off with out him. Dad #1 then mentioned that Dallas has such a great team this year and blah blah bah. That T.O. is just misunderstood.

“Misunderstood?” I said. “There is no misunderstanding about it. I think he is a great player but he is not a team player.”

“What do you mean?” Dad #1 said.

“What I mean is …how do I say this…I think T.O. is an A-S-S-H-O-L-E. He was one before the Eagles and he is one after the Eagles.” I watched as both dads computed in their heads what I had just spelled out. Dad #2 nodded his head in agreement.

“Basically” I said, “I think he watched too many Thomas videos growing up.”

Blazing

Lauren went to get her haircut last night. She is smoking hot. I am using her picture without her permission and may have to take it down at some point.

Midnight Snacks

One of my bad habits, which I inherited from my father, is waking up in the middle of night to get a midnight snack. Now I am nowhere near as bad as my dad as far as the choices of snack that I like to have in the wee hours of the morning. My dad used to and probably still does, would get up to make himself a spoonful of peanut butter with sugar on top. He would take a tablespoon or a soupspoon or even possibly a ladle and scoop up as much peanut butter as he could. He would then take the peanut butter covered spoon and just stick it into the sugar bowl until it had a nice white crystal coating. My dad would then place the entire glob into his mouth and with one motion he would eat the spoon clean.

Now my midnight snacks are usually either because I have a hankering for something. A craving that will not go away and let me sleep. Some people eat snacks due to boredom. Maybe I am bored while I am sleeping, I know strange but it is possible. My latest midnight snack of choice has been graham crackers and milk. I can’t get enough of them.

Lauren thinks this is an unhealthy habit and she does her best to discourage me. Our bedroom is right next to the kitchen so when I do wake up I have to go into stealth mode in order to sneak me some delicious honey cinnamon coated crackers. I do my best to hide the evidence before the morning. Now with the new baby needing to get fed every few hours my window of opportunity has shortened.

Last night I got caught. Twice. The first time Lauren just called form the bedroom. “What are you doing?”

I quickly put the box of crackers away and mumbled, “Getting a drink of water.”

The second time I was doing my best to quiet the crackly cellophane wrapping on the crackers when I turned around and Lauren was standing in the kitchen entrance. She scared the crap out of me. Damn, she is more stealthy than I am.

What is your favorite midnight snack?

A long post about nothing really.

I am married again. Lauren bought me a new wedding ring for our anniversary. She gave me the ring last week but it did not fit. I needed to get a bigger size because you know what they say the bigger the finger...the bigger the..., well you know...the bigger the ring size. So last night we packed up the family and headed to the mall to exchange the ring.

At the mall Lauren took Maxfield to the book store while I took Wyatt to the jewelry store to exchange the ring. "Hi. Can I help you?" Said the lady behind the shiny glass case.

"Yes." I said. "I need to exchange this ring for a bigger size. I think this is a size 10 and I need either an 11 or maybe even bigger."

"Do you know your ring size?"

"No. Do you have something I can try on? So I can figure that out."

She handed me a giant "ring ring". I would have said "Key ring" but it was actually a ring with a bunch of rings on it. While I figured out what size I needed the girl behind the counter took my reciept and started to process the exchange.

" That will be $40.00" She said.

"For what?" I asked.

"For re-sizing the ring."

" I don't want it re-sized. I want to exchange it for a bigger ring?"

"We do not have a bigger ring in stock and that would be a special order which could take a couple of weeks."

"I can wait. I will hold onto the receipt and you order the new ring and when it comes in I will exchange it. "

"I can't do that. The only thing I can do is re-size that one."

"Okay, what if I came in and wanted to order this type of ring in size 11, would it be more expensive?"

"No."

"But since the ring was already purchased it is more expensive to get it in the right size?"

"Yes."

"What if I wanted to return the ring, could I do that and a full refund?"

"Yes."

"Okay. And If I did that and then ordered this ring in the right size it would NOT cost me the extra $40.00, is that right?"

"Right."

"I just want to return the ring and get a refund."

"Do you want to order the size 11?"

"No. I just want to return the ring and I will get another ring somewhere else. I am totally confused by the whole extra forty bucks thing. It does not make sense."

She would not let me return the ring because Lauren used her credit card. I went down to the book store and explained everything to Lauren. I stayed with Max and she took Wyatt to return the ring. We agreed that Max and I would wait at the book store unitl Lauren got back and then we would all go to a different jewelry store.

I was sitting in the children's section reading to Max when a woman who worked there approached us and told me how "Precious" Max is. We get this a lot. Almost everytime we are in public women will tell us how cute Max is. That he has beautiful eyes or a cute smile. Max usually flirts right back.

At some point Max decided, as he usually does in a book store, that it was time to poop. The smell was awful. I could'nt change him because Lauren had the diaper bag. With my eyes watering I anxiuosly waited for Lauren to return. When she finally returned I told her I needed to change Max. She looked in the diaper bag and realized we never packed diapers for him for our trip. She figured we were not going to be out that long and it would not matter. I told her I would hurry at the next jewelry store so we could get home and change Max.

As we walked down the mall you could almost see the smell emnating from Max's backside. It was like walking with Pepe Le Pue. The older ladies would stop to admire his eyes and they would get a whiff of him and they would run off. I entered the next jewelry store and apologized about my son stinking up the store. I quickly found the style of ring I wanted and asked to order it in a size 11. The one in the showcase was an 11 and a half. I took it because I felt bad that we stunk up the place. I asked the clerk to bless the ring since it was my new wedding ring. We took the ring and headed home.

I told Lauren that I got the half size bigger.

"Why?" She asked.

"Because I wantred it tight enough that it wouldn'e fall off but I wanted it lose enough that I have some room to get fatter fingers without cutting off the circulation."

"You getting fatter should not be a goal of yours. What am I going to do with you?"

Sibling Fortune Cookies

I talk on the phone with my brothers and sister all the time. At some point during these conversations they freely give out advice and tips and little nuggets of wisdom which I try to remember and write down. 9 out of 10 times, I forget. Some of the words of wisdom are classic and deserve to be put down here.

I was speaking with John the other day when he offered this advice.

"Bill, why do you got to write all that mushy, lovey dovey crap on your blog. Knock it off. Yeah, I know it was your anniversary and all and you were just being romantic, but do you know what being romantic leads to? Sex. And do you know what sex leads to? More Kids. You don't want to have any more kids. Believe me."

And this one,I know I heard before, but coming from John made it funny to me. He called me on the phone and this is the conversation.

Bill: Hello
John: Hey.
Bill: Yo. What's going on?
John: Nothing. What are you doing?
Bill: I am babysitting. Lauren went to the store so I have Max and Wyatt.
John: Yeah? Listen you smacked ass. It is NOT called babysitting if it is your own kids.


I know the first one may be too long to put into a fortune cookie but I know the second one will fit.

Toot Toot

This morning we took Wyatt for his 30-day check up. The doctors office informed us that Wyatt was not covered on our health insurance and that we need to call the insurance company and get everything straightened out. Lauren and Wyatt stayed at the doctor’s office while I took Maxfield home to call the insurance company.

When I called the insurance company I informed the customer service person that I was watching a rambunctious and loud two year old and I asked for their patience if I got distracted. I was bounced around from one department to the next and was put on hold several times. Sometimes there was “hold music” and sometimes there was not. While on hold I was playing with Max and helping him with a puzzle. Finally Melissa came on the line and asked me to hold for a few more minutes while she looked up some info. She would come back, ask me a question and then put me on hold again.

So with the phone cradled in the nook of my shoulder and head I continued to play with Max. I was on hold for the umpteenth time when Max farted really loud. I laughed and he laughed and he tried to squeeze more out. I asked Max, “Did you just toot?” He giggled some more. So I asked again, “Are you tooting? Did you just toot?”

Just then, over the phone Melissa said, “No I didn’t toot.”

I did not realize she was still on the line.

Four years already

Four years ago Lauren and I exchanged these vows.

I chose you to be my wife/husband
In front of our family and friends as witnesses
I promise to give you the very best of me
and to ask of you no more than you can give.

I promise to always love you
in good times and bad
in healthy times and in sickness.
I promise to be faithful to you.
I promise to always be there for you
to support you and to nurture you
and to be receptive of the gift of your love.

I love you more today than yesterday
but not as much as tomorrow

I will love you for the rest of my life*

As you wish.



* I actually did not say this particualr line because I was a blubbering idiot so I am off the hook with "rest of my life" part.

Go here for the story that I posted last year. And here and here for pictures of the groomsmen.

If you want to see the video of part of the toast where the LawnWhisperer is dressed as Superman please go to his blog and leave him a message/comment so I can get permission to post it.

Lost

I lost my wedding ring. Not a good move, but what can I say. I misplaced it right after we brought Wyatt home while Lauren’s Parents were staying with us. I am not blaming Wyatt or Lauren’s parents, (although maybe they were thinking that if they took the ring that would mean I was no longer married to their daughter and maybe some wish full thinking was manifesting itself by my ring disappearing and I am not saying that they don’t like me but you never get a second chance to make a first impression and the first time I actually met my mother in-law I was somewhat drunk and spilled a drink on her dress) Anyway, I am just saying it was hectic and I cannot remember where I put it.

I finally confessed to Lauren that I lost it. Two days later she said, “Do you notice that I am not wearing my wedding ring?”

I lied and acted like I did notice, “Yeah. Why not?”

“I am not wearing mine until you find yours.”

“It is around here somewhere. I probably put it in my pocket and it ended up in the wash. Anyway you should still wear yours.”

“Why?”

“My ring only cost, like, 50 bucks. Yours was much more expensive. You don’t want to lose it.”
“But I KNOW where my wedding ring is. You, however, do not.”

“Well YOU should know where yours is because it was much more expensive than 50 bucks.”