At the Table

My mom made tacos for dinner. Besides the cheese, meat, tomatoes, lettuce, sour cream, black olives etc. etc. she also prepared both hard shell corn tortilla and soft shell flour tortillas.

Lauren and I used to make tacos all the time but we always use the soft shell flour tortillas. Lauren reached across the table and grabbed one of the hard corn tortilla.

Holding the tortilla up she innocently said, "Man, I haven't had a hard one in such a long time."

I looked up at my father who was stifling a laugh and I started cracking up.

"Lauren, we live with my parents. It is difficult to find the alone time." I said.

My dad, now laughing said to Lauren, "Would you like for your mother-in-law and I to go for a walk."

Mad Men

Anybody else watching the show Mad Men on AMC?

I find it fascinating. The show is unique and charming and the cast is awesome.

Colors

I don’t know if it is me, and my family, or if other people have their own personal colors for household items. Growing up, my siblings and I all had our own drinking cups. Plastic cups with our names written on them with magic marker. We were responsible for our cups at all times. We had to clean them and put them away. It helped reduce the amount of dishes that needed to be cleaned at the end of the day. It also gave my mom the ability to reprimand anyone who left their cups on the kitchen table, coffee table or end tables or anywhere else around the house. The plastic drinking cups at that time were only produced in 4 colors, Red, Orange, Blue and Green. With nine kids some of us shared the same colors but that is where the magic markers came in. I remember having a blue cup.

My mom did the same thing with socks. We all had socks with colored stripes at the top and we each were assigned a color; Red, Blue, Green, and Black. They were the standard colors at that time. My mom would write our initials on the toes of the socks so she could seperate them for laundry and so she could reprimand the person who left their socks on the kitchen table, coffee table or end table or anywhere else around the house. I remember having black striped socks.

Toothbrushes were something else entirely. I vaguely remember that we all kept our toothbrushes in our rooms. There were two reasons for this. One, so there would be no confusion as to whose brush was whose. And two, I don’t think anyone of us trusted the rest to not drop our toothbrush in the toilet. I remember my toothbrush was blue. I always got a blue toothbrush.

I still, at 37 and having a smaller family, get a blue toothbrush. The blue one in the cup on the sink is my toothbrush. The other color, whatever it may be, is Lauren’s. A few months ago we bought new toothbrushes for the family. They were out of blue so I picked up dark purple and white one and Lauren picked up a light green one. Now every morning when I go to brush my teeth, I have to stop and think about which brush is mine. It is very confusing not having a blue toothbrush.

What color is your toothbrush?

Appearing Nightly

Wyatt is 14 months (and some change) old. For his entire life, his mother has been the one to put him and tuck him into bed. During those 14 plus month I have had the responsibility to put Maxfield to bed. There have been some exceptions to this, but for the most part it is an accurate statement.

Last week, for various reasons, Lauren and I decided to switch it up. I now have the responsibility and pleasure of putting Wyatt to bed. As part of Lauren’s routine with Wyatt, she would sing to him before laying him down in his crib. Lauren has a nice voice and she knows the words to thousands of songs. I, on the other hand, do not.

I think I have posted here before that the only song I know all the words to is the ABC’s song. Wyatt is not a big fan of the ABC’s. (I know you are thinking that maybe he is not a fan of my voice but continue reading). I know parts of songs and on the first few nights I tried a medley of different artists. I mixed Pink Floyd, Ben Folds, Peter Gabriel and Dire Straits into, what I considered, a wonderful tune. Wyatt did not care for it.

The next couple of nights, I searched the recesses of my brain for a song in which I knew all the lyrics. I was happy to discover that I know all the lyrics to two other songs. They both happen to be Barry Manilow songs. "I Can't Smile Without You" and "I Write the Songs". I don’t have the voice to sing Barry Manilow the right way. So, I sing the songs to Wyatt as if I were a lounge singer out in Vegas. Picture Bill Murray from the old Saturday Night Live skits.

You know I can’t smile without you. (How is everybody tonight?)
I can’t smile with out you.
I can’t laugh, and I can’t sing
I’m finding it hard to do anything. (Hey where are you from?)
You know I feel sad, when you’re sad. (Anyone sad out there tonight?)
I feel glad when you’re glad. (Here’s to being glad).
If you only knew what I’m going through. I just can’t smile without you.
You came along just like a song (Back on June 11th I remember it like it was just last year) and brightened my day. (and your mother’s.)
Who’d’ve believe you were part of a dream,
Now it all seems, like years away. (Okay, really only a year ago.)


Thanks. Thank you really. I’m here all week.

What would you do?

Your'e significant other holds up a chocolate chip cookie brownie, (the piece is about 3 inches wide by 3 inches across and about 2 1/2 inches deep. It is filled with Marshmallow, chocolate chunks, caramel and nuts) and she asks you, "Do you want this brownie?"

But just as she asks the question the brownie slips from her hands and onto a dirty kitchen floor, do you still eat it?

Choo Choo

Maxfield is addicted to trains. Like all good addicts he has “dealer”. The dealer is Lauren’s Uncle Fred, who is a train enthusiast, and sends Max all types of train videos, toys and pictures. Recently Uncle Fred sent Max information about Strasburg Pennsylvania.

Lauren and I reviewed the information and decided traveling to Strasburg (Lancaster PA, "Amish Country") would make a great long weekend. Let me tell you, taking Maxfield to Strasburg was like taking a crack head to a Crack Convention. We went to places like the Choo Choo Barn, The Rail Road Museum of Pennsylvania and the Toy Train Museum.

They have two stores in Strasburg, seriously two, that sell nothing but Thomas the Tank Engine Stuff. Thankfully Max is not really into Thomas. He likes the fact that Thomas and friends are trains but does not really get into the different characters. Which is great for me because I don’t have to remember all of their different names (that space in my brain is reserved for knowing all the alter ego’s of every member of the Justice League).

There were many highlights to the trip but there were two that stood out for me. One is that we stayed in the Caboose Motel. We slept in an actual caboose. The place was not really that nice, somewhat of an old tourist trap kind of place, but Maxfield loved the fact that we stayed in a caboose.

The other highlight was riding the Strasburg Rail Road. We boarded a historic early 1900’s steam train that took us through the beautiful countryside. Max could barely contain his excitement. He moved back and forth on the train trying to look out the open windows. Every now and then Wyatt would try to climb up to peer out and Max would try to push Wyatt out of the way. I was a little paranoid that one of them would fall out of the open car.




Lauren could see that I was stressing and urged me to relax. “Bill, relax. It’s not like Max is going to push Wyatt out the window.”

“Lauren, their brothers,” I said. “And if I were on this train with my brothers I am sure one of us would have been pushed out the window.”

Lottery

The other day, on lunch hour, I stopped by the 7-11 to pick up some lottery tickets. As I was waiting for the cashier to ring up all the people in front of me, I decided to check the lottery tickets in my wallet, against the past numbers they had posted on the wall. I have a George Costanza type wallet and I wanted to lighten it up a bit.

I pulled out the tickets and I started to compare them to the posted numbers. I spread the tickets on the counter in front of me. I picked up a ticket looked at the date and number and then I would compare it to the poster board. Not a winner. I crumpled the ticket and went to the next one. I looked at the ticket, looked up at the board. Not a winner.

I was standing in the checkout line and people were lining up behind me getting their sandwiches and what not. Some were looking at the “lunch specials” board right next to the lottery board. I decided to let people go ahead of me because I was going to be a few minutes checking the numbers. Every so often the clerk behind the counter would stand in my line of view to get someone a hotdog.

I looked at the sixth ticket, craned my neck to see past the clerk, not a winner. I crumpled the ticket and picked up the next one. As I squinted to see the board on the wall my eyes were drawn to the poster next to it.

“Holy crap!” I exclaimed as I stood there holding a ticket. A smile came across my face.

The clerk heard me and his attention was drawn to my hand. “Did you win? How much?”

The people behind me looked in my direction noticing my excitement.

“What?” I said as I turned away from the board. “No. But I just noticed that you guys have Pork Roll dogs.” I pointed to the advertisement on the wall. “I’ll take one.”

Hot Dog shaped Pork Roll served in a bun is almost like winning the lottery.

Miracle of Life

We always hear about the miracle of life when it comes to people conceiving and giving birth. But why does the consideration of the miracle of life stop there?

I think the following are also miracles of life.

The fact that a one year old can fall down a flight of steps without barely batting an eye. A miracle for him and his parents because they did not die of a heart attack when it happened.

A three year old can ask "why" a hundred times to one simple explanation as to why he cannot ride his bike in the street. Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? I think it is a miracle of life, that the father, after hearing "why" for the hundredth time, just doesn't let the kid ride his bike in the street.

Another Miracle of life is proven in the fact that a child CAN live on nothing but chicken and apple juice. Screw the vegetables.

That a 37 year old man, his wife and two little kids can live with his parents for 4 months, and his parents have not dug a 6 foot hole in their backyard (yet)for the 37 year old man to be buried in is a miracle of life.

What "Miracle of Life" stories do you have in the same vain?

For Fun

Lauren and I were enjoying a romantic dinner the night of our anniversary. We were nestled in a dim lit corner booth, out of the way of the normal hustle and bustle of the restaurant. We were enjoying our food and drinks and our quiet conversation when a woman approached our table.

“How are you tonight?” She asked.

“Great.” I responded.

“How is everything?” The woman asked.

“Good.” Lauren said.

The woman stood there for a moment not saying anything and then she turned away as if she was leaving.

“Are you the manager?” I asked, stopping her.

“Yes. Why is there something wrong?”

“Oh. No. Everything is great. I just wasn’t sure if you were just a random patron looking for a food suggestion or something.”

The woman smiled and nodded and then went on to another table. Since she was not wearing a nametag and she did not introduce herself as the manager she could have been just some strange person who liked to check on other diners. The thought of this piqued my interest and I may, just for fun, go to random restaurants and check on the patrons.

From the mouths of kids

With his upper lip covered in pink lemonade from the glass he just guzzled down, Maxfield turns to me and says, "Look Dad, I have a moustache just like MaMa (Momo9)."

The Thing

At a birthday party on Saturday there was an older boy, Nick, about 8 years old, who was great at playing with and entertaining the younger kids. Max had one of the things pictured above, and Max would blow on it and the older boy acted as if the force of the thing knocked him over. Max laughed and laughed. They continued this for a while until Nick moved on to something else.

Max then aimed the thing at the other kids. They were not interested in playing. I had to step in to steer Max away from annoying the other people. Lauren heard me correcting Max and asked me from the other room, “What was he doing?”

“He was blowing on the…uhh. The thing.”

“What?” Lauren asked.

“You know the thing that you blow on?” I knew it didn’t sound right as soon as I said it. “You know it gets bigger when you blow on it?” I looked around at the other parents in the room to see if they were looking at me funny.

“What?”

“The thing. Uh, I don’t know, the thing you blow on and it gets longer…Forget it.”


FYI if you are ever in this situation the thing is called a "BlowOut".

Sharing

Saturday we attended a birthday party for the 2-year-old daughter of friends of ours. There were about 10 kids there under the age of 5. Besides the hosts of the party, most of the adults that attended I have only met once or twice in the past. So I did my best at PDP (Public Displays of Parenting), making sure Max took turns, did not push other kids and that he said “please” and “thank you” when appropriate.

I say PDP because sometimes I do not enforce certain rules at home. I know, I know, I am supposed to be consistent with parenting and teaching my children how to behave, but sometimes I don’t necessarily agree with the common rules of parenting. And sometimes, the punishment for an infraction of my rules may not be appropriate to do in front of strangers. And the reaction of my kid, to some of the punishments, may not be appropriate for a party type of atmosphere. Really, I do not think that other people at a party want to hear Maxfield screaming at the top of his lungs for 5 minutes while he sits in time out. It could put a damper on the festivities.

Anyway, Max was doing pretty well playing with the other kids at the party. At one point, while Max was playing with some Lego blocks another boy tried to grab some of the pieces from Max. There were a dozen or so other Lego blocks strewn on the floor that the boy could have played with but he wanted the ones in Max’s hands. Max pulled the blocks away from the boy and gave him a stern “No.” I watched as the other boy tried again to grab the blocks from Max. The other boy’s father was talking to someone else and did not see the incident. Max raised his voice and said “NO”.

Max’s elevated volume drew the boy’s father’s attention. The boy’s father only saw Max pulling the toys away. He did not see the boy grabbing at Max. In my opinion the other kid was wrong and this is where and I tried to intercede with PDP.

“Maxfield.” I said. “You should share.”

He looked up at me, and in a very reasonable tone said, “But Dad, I don’t want to.” He then made a motion with his arms as if to show me all the other blocks on the floor.

I thought for a second and realized he made a very good point. I tried to convince the other little boy that the other blocks were there for him to play with. The boy moved on to go and play with other toys.

While driving home from the party I mentioned the incident to Lauren, “What is sharing?” I asked. “It seems to me to be an abstract concept and that is difficult to teach. I agreed with Max that he shouldn’t have to share those blocks.”

Lauren responded, “It is nicety. A courtesy. A social skill that he needs to learn.”

“I get that. But it is not something that is appropriate in every circumstance. It is difficult to explain, in that situation, that he does not need to share.”

“But he should learn to share.” She said.

“But the way I look at it, if a total stranger came up to me and tried to take my car, I shouldn’t have to share. What if one of the fathers at that party wanted me to share YOU? Should I share?” I said trying to make my point.

The look Lauren gave me, made her point.

This parenting thing is tough.

Pics

I have been playing with the different settings on my camera. I do not know what any of the settings are supossed to do. Every now and then I am surprised.

Testing

I know that Maxfield is only 3, well 3 years and 5 months to be exact, but I am starting to become concerned about his future education. He is already showing signs that he may not do very well in school. I am trying to come to terms with the fact that he may not get an academic scholarship. I don’t know how he will get good grades in basic elementary school classes.

Take Math for instance. He knows his numbers. He can count but when it comes to simple addition and subtraction he seems to just not get it as evidenced by this very common conversation in our house.

“Dad, can I have a cookie?”

“Sure Max. But just one.”

He reaches into the cookie jar and pulls out two Oreos and places one in each hand.

“Max, I said just one.”

“I only have one.” He says holding up his left hand.

“No you have two.” I say pointing to his right hand.

“No I only have one.” He says holding up his right hand. “And I only have one here.” Again with the left hand held up.

“But Max, one plus one equals two, and I said you could only have one.”

“NO! I only have one here and one here. That is only one.”

He is having trouble with basic math, so I was thinking that maybe he will excel in English class. But then I started to think what English consists of, Reading Comprehension, Sentence Structure. Punctuation, Grammar, and I know I suck at these, so he does not have much hope.

Take Reading Comprehension for example. I have to read the same book to him 4 or 5 times a night.

“….and the little red caboose saved the train. The end.”

“Read it again Daddy.”

“But I just read it. Let’s read another book.”

“No. Read Little Read Caboose again.”

I don’t think he comprehends the story.

His English and Math skills are lacking, maybe he will take an interest in History. History is not so much about remembering dates but more about learning about how events have shaped us as mankind. Dates are important because, what has happened before, shapes the future. I don’t think Max understands this.

“Daddy can I play with my trains?”

“Sure. Where are they?”

“Mommy took them away.”

“Why?”

“Because I hit Wyatt.”

“Well then no you cannot play with your trains.”

“Why.”

“Because you have to learn not to hit Wyatt.”

“But that was before. I want to play with my trains now.”

I don’t think he gets history.

I think I am going to have to start working on his athletic abilities in hopes of him getting a scholarship.

Friends

I am blessed that I have a lot of friends, real life friends that I have had since grade school and high school. Sure, I have new friends from work and theater and from different stages in my life, but for the most part the friends that I see and hang out with now are the same people I hung out with for the past 20 to 25 years. Every few months someone hosts a gathering and we all get together.

Yesterday Lori and Paul hosted. By my count there were 17 adults and 15 children. It was a great time. There were great conversations and updates regarding everyone’s lives and it was all interrupted by “Stop that.”, “No honey, you need to share.”, “Have you seen my kid?” and so forth.

Most of my friends read Poop and Boogies. Yesterday my friend Susan, we met when we were 14 years old, asked me “What do I need to do to make it on Poop and Boogies?”

I laughed and had some kind of smart-ass comment, but it was left at that. But her question got me to thinking: Why haven’t I posted more about my friends?

I guess the main reason is the fact that I was Orlando for the past two years and that I did not see them all that often. Another reason is I don’t want to offend anyone. Sure, my family is fair game when it comes to posting but I am not sure how my friends would take it. I have a history of putting my foot in my mouth and offending them face-to-face and I am not sure of what the implications would be if I offended them on the Internet.

I do want to say, I am very proud of the fact that they consider me their friend and that is something worth blogging about.

Oh, and Susan, another way to get mentioned, here, is to announce in a room full of people, “Tara, I just wanted let you know that my family really enjoyed playing Pass the Pickle with your family.”

I am not sure what that means but I found it funny.

Corner Bar

Sometimes when I think of Blogging and what it means to me I often picture it as a bar. You know what I mean, right? Like the Blog-o-sphere is my little local corner hang out joint where I go for happy hour. I catch up on the latest gossip and I hear about what is going on with other people.

I call the little bar “Favorites” because that is where all the regulars are listed in my web browser. It is filled with friends but more so with acquaintances. People I only know little tidbits about and whom I exchange casual dialog in the format of comments and posts.

All of those people are gathered at my corner bar. I like the corner bar. I enjoy the atmosphere. Everyone seems friendly and I enjoy the chitchat. Sure sometimes there are bad stories or sad stories, but for the most part the people that hang out at "Favorites" are my kind of people: Upbeat, funny and good story tellers.

On most days when you first walk in "Favorites" you are greeted with the sound of packed bar, various conversations and laughter bouncing off the walls. As you squint to adjust to the dim lighting you realize that it is not as crowded as you thought and that there is plenty of room to make yourself comfortable. There are a few people at the bar and many scattered at different tables and booths all enjoying the company of the rest of the patrons.

In the corner booth, nursing a Rye whisky, is Nilbo. He is entertaining a group of ladies of various ages. The all have smiles on their faces and he has a twinkle in his eye and it is hard to tell if he has been at the bar for a while or not.

Two tables over is Susie, enjoying a glass of wine with her sisters. They are not really her sisters but as an outsider you couldn’t tell.

There is young couple, sipping beers, at the high top table in the middle of the room. They are chuckling to themselves about their workday. He is peeling the label off his beer bottle and putting the pieces on the table. She immediately cleans them up and drops them in the ashtray.

Over by the small stage, standing by the railing, leafing through the Karaoke book is Paige and Cat. They are laughing at the possibility of singing a duet. They can’t decide between Captain and Tennile or Kiki Dee and Elton John. Their husbands are sitting at a table next to them egging them on.

On a stool at the bar, sitting facing the room, drink in hand, is Bucky. She is sharing her stories with the bartender and the small group of ladies with her. There are two wet rings on the bar behind her where her last drinks rested. They seem like they are out for the night. If this is their first stop, god help the rest of the town.

OTJ and Steve are talking politics and parenting with Chris and Kami right near where the bar top curves towards the waitress station. MD just ordered a scotch and is about to join in on the conversation.

The booths that line the right side of the bar are some new comers. They either just found "Favorites" or were brought here by friends. They seem funny and like they are enjoying themselves and it appears they may make "Favorites" a regular hangout.


When I enter I try to get a feel for the room. Which table or spot should I stop by first? I can just swing by a few tables and say hello, but I decide to settle on my spot next to the Mega Touch Machine.

Tonight I may just people watch but I am in good company.

Villain

At 4:40 AM this morning, Lauren nudged me awake; Maxfield was in his room screaming crying.

Any time Maxfield is upset, 99.9 % of the time, he wants his dad. I quickly jumped out of bed and went into his room to settle him down before he woke the entire house. He was not awake, but he was not asleep. He was at that weird in between state.

I crouched down next to him and tried to coax him back to sleep. Stroking his hair I soothingly said, "It's okay. Daddy is here Max. Shhhhhh. It's okay."

He wailed some more.

"Max?" I whispered, not wanting to wake him up completely if I did not need to, "Are you hurt?"

His eyes still closed he screamed, "I had a bad dream and someone tried to take my candy away."

"It was just a dream." I said. "It will be all right."

He sobbed. I felt so bad.

"I want (sniff) my (sniff) candy." He squeaked to the person in his dream. He was clearly upset.

I tired to comfort him some more. "Go to sleep. It was just a dream." I said. "No one is going to take your candy. We have plenty of can-"

I stopped talking.

Wait a minute. I thought to myself, Is he really asleep? Is he just playing me? Is he going to wake up and ask for candy right now because Daddy said we have plenty of candy? Is he going to use this later on in the day as a reason to get candy? Does a three year old know the difference between the dream world and reality? Am I being suckered? How am I supposed to comfort him about the candy and not tell him I am going to give him candy? He is crying because someone in his dream took candy and I need to calm him down and one of the ways to do that is to offer candy. But if I offer candy and he is awake, I am screwed, but if he is still asleep than offering candy would calm him down and I can go back to bed. I need more information. I should ask him who took his cand----

Maxfield wailed. It snapped me out of my own thoughts.

"Maxfield. It's okay. I'm here."

"I want my mommy." He screamed.

"What?"

"I want my mommy."

"Mommy is asleep. I am here. It's okay."

"Noooooo!"

Usually a few seconds from Dad is all it takes to calm down Max from a bad dream. I could not figure it out. I gently rubbed his belly and chest and continued to whisper reassurances. His breathing settled into a steady pace. He was drifting back to a deeper slumber.

"Max?" I said, barley audible. "Who took your candy?

He inhaled deeply, rolled slightly to his side to his favorable sleeping position, and on his exhale he said "Daddy." And he was asleep.

What? I was the bad guy in his dream? I thought. No wonder I could not calm him down. That is like looking for comfort from the Boogie Man. That is like Lawnwhisperer seeking comfort from a Dentist with a dog. Or Lauren cuddling up to a snake when she is scared. No, I could not have been the bad guy. Could I? I am usually the hero. But he did ask for his mom.

Crap.
I can't believe it.
I was the villain.

A long time ago.

Lately we have been reading to Maxfield a book about dinosaurs. Either in the book or in our conversations about the dinosaurs we talk about how dinosaurs were around a long, long, time ago. I guess it helps Max not be scared to know that T-Rex and friends are not currently on this earth.

Last night my mom was telling a story about how “a long time ago” she rode a train from Philly to Georgia to see my dad when he was in the army.

Max interrupted her and asked, “Did you see any dinosaurs?”

Age and a “long time ago” are all relative.

Competition

If the people over at the Blogger Choice Awards had a category for Hottest Wife of a Blogger or maybe Cutest Kids of a Blogger, I think I would be a lock for first place.

Portrait

Last night we went to pick up portraits of Maxfield and Wyatt that we had done at Sears Portrait place.

As with most portrait places there were pictures of little kids in cute poses all over the place, a little girl with giant flower props, a little boy in an oversized wagon, a baby sleeping on bed of feathers etc. etc. There were family portraits, mom and dad and the three kids all wearing the same outfit, white shirts and denim (although the father's head was rather large). And then there was the picture of the Calvin Klein Model-esque fathers, with no shirts holding their baby (Kind of like this).

I pointed to one of the Calvin Klein type of photos of a man laying on his stomach, no shirt, super tan, and cut like a tri-athlete. On his back was a baby, Buddha like and all pale and pudgy and cute. I said to Lauren, “Do you remember when I looked like that?”

Without missing a beat she replied, “What, the chubby one on top?”

Summer Fun

Rash

Wyatt has a horrible diaper rash. I was changing him on the living room floor and I was asking my mom and Lauren what they think we should do about it: Powder or cream?

“I think it is because he is walking now.” I said. “It just keeps getting rubbed raw.”

“The creams always seem to work before.” Lauren said. “I don’t why the rash is so bad.”

My mom chimed in. “It could be anything. Did you change his milk? Or maybe his diet? It could be his teeth.”

“I don’t think he could get his teeth down there.” I said. “And if he could I would be really impressed.”

MLT

Lauren,

You are better than an MLT. Even if the mutton is nice and lean and the tomatoes are perky.


As you wish.


Bill



(pics from the toast. Here and here and here. )

Shirts

“Lauren, all of my shirts are shrinking.”

“What?”

“They don’t fit right anymore. I think maybe it is my parent’s washer and dryer that are shrinking them.”

“You have had those shirts for years. I don’t think it has anything to do with their washer and dryer. I am thinking maybe something else is making them feel smaller.”



I think she is insinuating that I am getting taller.

Is it just me

Did you ever, you know when you go to the bank or the post office or Starbucks, pull into the parking lot at the same time as other cars, and those people in the other cars get out at the same time as you and so you hurry just a bit to get to the door first just so you are not standing in line behind a few more people, but you don’t really run or make it look like you are trying to beat those other people, you just kind of pick up the pace in an effort to be ahead of them?

Sometimes I reach the door just a few paces ahead of those people, not a big enough gap where I can just walk right in and let them worry about opening the door themselves, but a small gap where I feel bad and then I am stuck holding the door for them and I have to, by default that I am somewhat polite, let them enter ahead of me.

It is those times, where I want to tell those people that I was the actual winner of my secret race and that they should let me ahead of them in line.

You know what I am talking about...right?

Brainiac

I had a dream the other night in which I won 4 million dollars. In the dream, the money was earning about 300 dollars a day in interest.

There were other details in the dream that I shared with Lauren the next morning and I asked her to help me figure out if the 300 dollars a day was accurate. I wanted to find out if my subconscious was smart enough to add the interest correctly. I wanted to check to see if my brain, while asleep, actually did the math the right way.

We sat on the couch, sipping coffee trying to add numbers in my head. I would multiply the numbers then do some division and tell Lauren and then she would correct me saying something about interest being compounded annually or something. I would try again but then my math would be off. I would try again and I would forget to carry the one.

It turns out I am smarter when I am asleep.

Clean

“I gotta go potty.” Maxfield yelled from the top of the bridge that connected the sliding board and the fake rock wall.

“Okay. Hurry down.” I called back up to him.

Instead of taking the easy way down, the slide, he turned back towards the rock wall and climbed down. Half way down he started the “jig”. Most parents know the “jig”. I reached up and lifted him off the wall and I carried him to the bathroom about 30 yards away.

Bathrooms at public playgrounds are always interesting. They are rarely cleaned nor kept up. As we entered the cinderblock and concrete floored facility I could tell it was well used that day. Both urinals were too tall for Max to use so we went to one of the stalls in the back of the restroom.

“I have to pee too.” I said as Max finished. I pulled up his pants and I opened the stall door. “Go wash your hands.”

I angled myself in the tiny stall so I could keep an eye on Max. He walked past the urinals and headed over the sink and I could hear him hit the push top faucet.

“I need soap.” He said.

“I’ll be right there.” I said as I continued to go. I knew the soap dispenser was too high for him to reach. Out of the corner of my eye I could see him walk back towards me.

“I got some.” He said.

“That’s weird.” I thought to myself. “How did he reach the soap?”

I zipped up and flushed the toilet. I walked over the sink and there was Max holding the pink urinal block sanitizer that he took from one of the urinals. He was rubbing it on his hands.

July 4th

Happy Independence Day.

If you have the day off, do something you enjoy doing.

My mom offically becomes a senior citizen on July 4th. Wish her a happy birthday.

eHarmony

"Hey? Do you think that if you and I put our sepearate profiles on eHarmony that we would be a match with their 29 dimensions of compatibility?"

"Hah! No way."

Cold Duck

There is an episode of Welcome Back Kotter, where Freddy "Boom Boom" Washington gets hooked on drugs. In an effort to show their friend the bad effect of drugs, Juan Epstein, Vinny Barbarino and Horshack act like they are on drugs themselves.

Vinny Barbarino, played by John Travolta, does his best to act like one of those "druggie people" and he slouches around saying, "Gimme drugs, gimme drugs." I remember seeing this episode when I was a kid and I always found it funny.

Two weeks ago we took Maxfield's pacifier away from him. He only used it at night for comfort at bedtime. We made him quit cold turkey. The first few nights were rough, but after that he seemed to do okay.

Wyatt, who has never used a pacifier, has recently found some. Wyatt does not suck on them but more or less chews on them to ease the pain of teething. Every now and then, when Max is helping us put Wyatt to bed, he see the pacifiers in Wyatt's crib and he asks for one.

He sounds just like Vinny Barbarino in this video clip. Except Max says, "Gimme binks, Gimme binks."

10 years ago

Ten years ago, today, I met my wife (who I sometimes refer to as my ex-girldfriend because once we got married she was no longer my girlfriend) Lauren.

This morning, as I sat in my parent's kitchen, I smiled at her and said, "Happy Anniversary of the night we met."

She smiled back and said, "Yeah, and look where we are now."

We both laughed and after a moment of reflection she said "Isn't it amazing how the littlest of things can all add up to something big?"

We then chatted about all the little things about the night we met and how if the slightest of circumstances would have been different we may not be married now. The complete story is here. We talked about me sitting with my friend PJ, waiting for my food, and the fact if I did not have to wait the few extra minutes, I would not have talked to her.

"Would you still have noticed me though?" Lauren asked sipping her coffee.

"Oh yeah. PJ and I were doing the whole "check her out" thing that guys do." I said. "But if someone in that kitchen was on the ball that night, and I got my food on time, I would have eaten and left. I would never have talked to you. I wonder what would have happened?"

Lauren laughed. "I would probably be married to PJ."

I love my ex-girlfriend.

Chip off the old...

It is times like this that Lauren claims he looks just like me.

Wyatt Walking

Photo Sharing - Upload Video - Video Sharing - Share Photos

Wyatt started walking this week.

Stores are too close

The place on the right is owned by the same people as the place on the left. The place on the right does manicures and pedicures etc. The place on the left serves delicious Chinese food except their rice is really really crunchy.

Kibbles and Bits

A few weeks ago we attended a graduation party for my cousin. There were tons of people there and the weather was not the best so most were confined inside the house. My aunt, who was throwing the party, has two dogs. Knowing that not all people are dog people, she locked them in a crate in a bedroom at the top of the steps. Anytime someone arrived, the dogs would bark and it piqued the interest of Maxfield. He wanted to see the dogs.

There were several children in Max’s age group that wanted to see the dogs as well. Every now and then they would gather at the bottom of the steps and I would walk them up to pet the dogs through the wires of the dog crate. Half way up the steps, most of the other children would become fearful and go back downstairs. Except for Max and Ryan. Max and Ryan, both three years old and both “dog owners” themselves, made the trip upstairs about a dozen times.

At one point, my cousin MB and her boyfriend, the owners of the male cocker spaniel, had to take the dog outside so it could pee. Max and Ryan couldn’t wait to be able to pet the dog once it was outside the confines of the crate. I took them both outside onto the porch and waited for dog to finish its business.

MB’s boyfriend walked the dog back to the porch and offered Max a Ryan a chance to play with dog. He was real careful to explain to me that the dog was still a puppy and somewhat jumpy. He held the dog tight by the collar while the boys gently scratched its chin and ears. The dog's tail was wagging with appreciation.

Seeing how much the dog was enjoying the attention and that Max and Ryan were not afraid he said, “Guys? You want to scratch the dog’s belly? He really likes that.”

They both nodded.

MB’s boyfriend then crouched down, picked up the dog and sort of cradled it exposing the dog’s underside. MB’s boyfriend then stood up putting the dog’s underside at eye level to the boys.

And before I could even get any words out of my mouth I watched both Max and Ryan reach directly towards the dog’s pecker and rub vigorously.

The dog, suddenly, was extremely happy.

Overkill

I like music. My tastes are all over the place, but for the most part I like songs that I can sing to when I am alone in my car.

If you grew up as a child of the 80’s, like I did, you may be familiar with the band Men at Work. Their videos were on MTV and they were quite popular. Although, I have to admit there was only one person that I knew in middle school, that actually claimed she was a fan and that was my friend Tara*. We used to mock her for liking Men At Work, because seriously, how could you like a band like that, when there were bands like Asia , Styx and Foreigner?

Anyway, Colin Hay, the lead singer of Men at Work, did an acoustic version of the Song Overkill for something or other, that ended up on the TV show Scrubs soundtrack CD. I listen to that CD all the time because it has a great mix of songs that I can belt out, to and from work.

The Overkill lyrics start with:

“I can’t get to sleep,
I think about the implications,
Of diving in too deep,
and possibly the complications.”

If you are familiar with this song you are probably singing it to yourself right now. The song is about laying awake at night feeling stressed out.

The chorus of the song is:

“Day after Day it appears,
Night after night my heartbeat shows the fear,
Nurse a beer and fade away.
Come back another day.”

Yesterday while driving to work, I didn’t feel like singing. I just listened. As the chorus part played my face reddened with the flush of embarrassment. I was embarrassed for myself and at myself.

The lyrics are “Ghosts appear and fade away.”

NOT “Nurse a beer and fade away.”

I have been singing this song incorrectly for a couple of years now.

Have you ever done that? What song and lyrics have you messed up?


*Dear Tara,
About two years ago I ended up buying the Best of Men At Work CD and I really like it. You were ahead of your time. I apologize about ridiculing your taste in music, except Duran Duran. I still think they suck.

How good she has it

Last week, Lauren and I were in bed watching Super Nanny. I don’t watch Super Nanny for the parenting tips. I watch it to feel better about how my kids behave. The kids on that show are edited to make them look like little demons and I always think, “At least my kids are not that bad.”

The other thing that Super Nanny shows is how, most often, one parent, usually the dad, is not pulling their own weight when it comes to raising the kids. The episode we were watching, the dad would come home from work and immediately go to the gym. He would not be around to give the mom a break.

I turned to Lauren and said, “See how good you have it Lauren? I don’t go to the gym.”

She turned her head slightly in my direction, her eyes scanned my body and they stopped at my belly. She said, “Oh, yes, I know that.”

Father's Day

For the past 11 years, my family has spent Father's Day at Philadelphia Park Race Track. We, eat, drink and gamble (some more than others) and it is always a good time.

This year I was looking forward to bringing Maxfield to the track and teach him about horse racing. He is finally at the age where he can pronounce "trifecta" and could appreciate the finer points of heckling horses.

Since the races happen in the middle of the day and would conflict with Wyatt's nap time, Lauren decided to stay at her parents house with Wyatt.

Judging by the pictures and the fact that I lost 20 bucks, who do you think had a better afternoon?

"Where is our horse Daddy?"
Maxfield watching as our horse loses.

Wyatt raiding Mom Mom's liquor cabinet.

Father is only half a word

Why is it always a Mother F-er and never a Father F-er?

For Father's Day you should click over to the BlogFathers. Once you are there you should click on some of the links to the other fathers that contribute to the Blogfathers. They are all some funny Fathers.

Charlie. Oscar. David. Echo.

My last name is often misspelled. It ends with the letter “M” but most people, after I spell it out for them, hear the last letter as an “N”. My social security card is spelled with an “N”. My drivers license with an “M”. My insurance card has an “N”.

Now whenever I have to give out my email or spell my name for someone I always end the spelling of my name by saying, “M as in Mary”. People still get it wrong. I guess they think I say "N" as in Nary. I don't know why I use "Mary" instead of "Michael". I just do.

Part of my job, when talking with customers, requires me to use a series of letters and numbers. In an effort to avoid confusion with letters that sound the same, like “B” and “P” I use a phonetic alphabet. I do not use the official military Phonetic Alphabet (Alfa, Bravo, Charlie, Delta etc.) but I basically make it up as I go along. Most people just substitute common names or animals instead of the letter. I also don’t say the “as in” part (unless the situation requires that I do). Each word I use is the letter itself. So if I were to spell my first name for someone it would sound like “Baker, Indian, Larry, Larry.”

Sometimes I chuckle at some of the words people come up with when they are using their own phonetic alphabet. Recently someone was giving me a tracking number of some sorts and used “Champagne” and “Vodka” for the letters “C” and “V”. It gave a slight insight to what they were thinking.

So I am asking you, blog commenters, how would you, using as a phonetic alphabet, spell your first name? Don’t think too much about it; just leave a comment with how you would normally spell it out.

A year already?

They say "time flies", "they grow up so fast", etc. etc. Man it is amazing how true those statements are. Especially since I started keeping the blog and can look back at what I wrote and when.

Like this for instance. Can you believe that was a year ago? For the full story click here, here, and here.




Happy Birthday Wyatt Blue!

I would use this guy

Let's face it, he is no Lawnwhisperer, but his name alone would make me hire him.

Can I borrow your towel. My car just hit a water buffalo.

Last night I had a proud parenting moment.

I was trying to get Maxfield to settle down for the night and I was letting him lay in my bed with me as we watched some TV. I started flipping through the channels in an effort to find something that Max could watch and that he would like. I came across the movie Fletch.

I put the clicker down and started to watch.

"Whats' that Daddy?" Max asked pointing to the TV.

"Only the second greatest movie ever." I said.

I laid down on my stomach and pulled a pillow under my chest. Max did the same. He was hooked. We watched in silence.

Fletch is one of those movies that, even though I own it on DVD, if I come across it on TV I have to watch it.

Do you have any movies like that?

Bad address

We were driving to an appointment to look at a house when Lauren noticed an "Open House" sign on another street.

"Look Bill." Lauren said. "There is an open house down that road."

"Where?"

"On Dick Avenue." She replied. "Do you want to go?"

"No. I don't care how nice a house is, I could not live on a street named Dick Avenue. My brothers would have a field day with that address."

She laughed. "It would take your brothers about 20 years before they would take our address seriously...if ever."

Wyatt's 1st Haircut

Before

After.

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Extra room

This post was written last week, before this story.




“Let’s try to get the emergency exit row.” John said over his shoulder as we stood in line waiting to board the Southwest flight.


I looked at my boarding pass for the tenth time to make sure it read, “group A”, which it did. Our group would be the first on the plane. I appreciated the fact that I printed our passes the day before. There were only ten other people in front of us. We had first dibs.


I asked the woman at the gate if the flight was expected to be crowded. She told me there were only a few open seats.


John and I made our way onto the plane and found the exit row open. John sat by the window and I sat in the aisle seat, the seat between us was empty.


John leaned over and said, “It would be great if no one sat here.” He patted the seat between us. Even though he goes to the gym daily, I guess he still needs the…um..extra room.


I laughed and told him I would make sure no one sat with us.


“How are you going to do that?” He asked.


I rubbed my eyes and cheeks so they appeared red and I started coughing. Every time someone from groups B and C came by and glanced towards the seat I coughed. I slouched a bit in my seat and did what I could to make myself look like a total sick loser.


The plane filled quickly. Every time, someone appraoched our section I coughed. I could see John snicker a bit. The last group of passengers boarded, and they were looking for any empty seat available. My throat was going hoarse from all the coughing that I could not keep up with the traffic of passengers.


A group of people reached our part of the plane, stuffing their bags in the overhead compartments. I mustered up one or two more coughs. John laughed again and said loudly over the hum of the engines, “We should just talk about your Herpes and genital warts.”


No one sat next to us. Mission accomplished.

Hello Potential Neighbor

I think it is perfectly okay, while looking at potential new houses, to knock on random doors in the neighborhood and ask the occupants if their neighborhood stinks ; especially if there is a water treatment facility nearby.



I did receive some funny looks but I got the answers I needed.

Brotherly Love

I was sitting across form my brother, LawnWhisperer, at a table, in a restaurant, in an airport, in another state. We had just finished our lunch and were waiting for our flight. We were discussing various topics form the past two days of travel when my cell phone rang. I looked at the caller ID and saw that it was my wife, Lauren calling.

“It’s Lauren.” I said to LW. “ I need to answer this.”

I clicked the button on my phone and I answered. As I was talking to Lauren, LawnWhisperer whispered to me “What’s Lauren’s number?”

I smiled and wrote Lauren’s phone number on the back of the receipt. I figured LW was going to call Lauren on her other line and say something playful to the effect of “I am sitting with Bill in an airport and he is ignoring me to talk to you.” or something like that.

As I was listening to Lauren on the phone she asked me to wait a minute because she had another call. I looked across the table and smiled at LW. She clicked over and my phone went silent.

LW’s eyes widened in acknowledgment that she just answered his call. I chuckled at his playful smile. His smile then twisted into a sinister grin.

“Lauren.” LW said into his phone. “It's John. I just wanted to let you know that when you just called Bill right now, he rolled his eye and made a face of frustration. I don’t know what you just said, but he made a face at you. That is all. Bye.”

He hung up his phone and he started laughing hysterically. I listened to the silence on my phone waiting for Lauren to click over. The phone clicked back to me.

“What face did you just make?” Lauren questioned.

I just shook my head knowing that I could not explain as LW looked out onto the tarmac with a shit-eating grin.

I am a trend setter

In the middle of the night, this past Monday, I got up to go to the bathroom. On my way back to bed I tripped over my sneakers that were sitting next to my side of the bed. I fell back to sleep pretty quickly but ended up having very weird dreams about me standing on a runway at an airport with blinking lights flashing. I tossed and turned but the flashing lights in my dreams would not go away. I finally sat up to shake the dreams off. The flashing did not stop.

I looked over the side of the bed and noticed that my left sneaker, which I posted about here and here, would not stop flashing. The left light-up sneaker is finally working, but, now it won't stop.

Over the past few days people at work have noticed my light up sneakers. I told them all I am a trend setter which has kind of been validated by this article that appeared on MSN.

This reminds me a quote, I read somewhere, and now I will paraphrase it for you. "An Artist is never ahead of his time, it's just that everybody else is far behind."

Rorschach

Two of my favorite blog posts of all time are from Susie over at What Was I Thinking. These are the two posts here and here. I love her "therapist's" insight on the meaning of the children's artwork.

While I was helping my dad clean up some stuff from the basement I discovered a box filled with old artwork and school projects from my childhood. I am curious as to what these pictures say about me.

I drew nipples on my mom. And if you look closely I also drew a penis on her as well.

Some kind of deformed penguin.

This is a picture of my family. I found a few things about this funny. The first being that I drew Jimmy, the youngest, laying down because he was the baby. The second is that Kevin's head is not to scale with the rest of the family. If I drew it to scale I would have needed an extra sheet of paper. And the last is blown up below for you to review.
I must have told my mom what to write. Here it says that my brother Dennis is a Martian. I still belive he is some type of alien.
My mom wrote on this one "Me and Billy in a Submarine".
Here is a picture of me peeing in the shower.

The Old Man

I need some opinions. This is kind of like "what would you do in my situation" type of survey.


I was driving from work to my parent's house, where I have been staying, to meet my brother the LawnWhisperer. The two of us were going away for business and he was driving us to the airport. I was running about 10 minutes late. I was driving down the street behind my parents' house and I purposely coasted through a stop sign as I was making a right turn. It was a three-way stop at a three-way intersection and there is no obstructed view of any of the corners. It is the perfect location for a "Hollywood stop."

I turned onto my parents' street and parked the car. LW was waiting for me in the driveway. As I was loading LW's car with my luggage a gold colored mini-van stopped next to us. The driver, an older man, yelled out his window to me. This is the conversation.

OM: Do you know you went right through that stop sign back there?
Bill: Yes. I kind of Hollywood stopped it. I'm sorry.
OM: (with real attitude) You know we stop for stop signs around here.
Bill: Huh?
OM: (Pointing to my license plate) I don't know how you do it in Florida but in Pennsylvania, we stop at stop signs.
Bill: Yeah Okay.
OM: (wagging his finger at me) You know I could report you.
Bill: Okay go ahead.
OM: (still wagging his finger) I should call the police.
Bill: (Totally ignoring the guy) Okay whatever. Thanks for your opinion.

The guy pulled away.

I looked at LW and I sort of shrugged my shoulders. His mouth was slightly open in disbelief. "I did blow right through the stop sign." I said.

"I can't believe this." LW said. "Why didn't you tell the guy to fuck off?"


"Well, I did go through the stop sign and besides he is one of Mom's neighbors."


"I am so disappointed in you." LW said while shaking his head. "If the guy was nice about you going through the sign that would be one thing, you know safety and all, but as soon as he said "I don't know how you do it in Florida' he crossed the asshole threshold and he was fair game for you to tell him to fuck himself."


"As soon as he started yelling I thought he was an asshole. The intersection was clear." I agreed with LW.

"Then why didn't you tell him to mind his own business. What does he think he is the local superhero."


LW and I talked about it the entire trip to the airport. LW thought I should have told the guy to stick it. He was very upset that I did not.

What would you have done?

Tree huggers and dirt eaters

Rest Room Play by Play

I have posted many times about how Maxfield always chose bookstores as his favorite place to poop. That is no longer the case. Now that he is no longer in diapers, his new favorite “place” to go # 2, is in restaurants. The last two times we have been out to eat, Maxfield has announced to the table that “I aftoo go poopy”.

Maxfield using the toilet is always a gamble. Sometimes, when he announces he has to go, he has to GO RIGHT NOW, and I can barely get his pants off in time. Other times it is a 10 to 20 minute event which consists of him staring between his legs at his own reflection in the water while he grunts and groans.

A few weeks ago we were out with my parents in a small Italian place that was more of a take out joint with a few tables than it is an actual restaurant. The men’s room resembled a closet with a toilet that is probably used more by vagrants than actual customers. Needless to say it was not very clean.

When we entered the bathroom I had to make the split second decision to clean up a little and paper the seat or risk having an accident. Like I said, a gamble. I chose not to clean up, which was good because it was quick trip. Maxfield most likely picked up the Clap in that bathroom.

On Friday night, we took the kids to Ruby Tuesdays. We received our drinks and were waiting for our food when Max made his announcement. We entered the large tile covered, very clean bathroom and headed for the first stall. I got Max situated on the toilet and I closed the stall door behind me. His face reddened and I knew we would be there for a bit.

After a minute or two we could hear the bathroom door open. Max, as loud as he could, yelled, “HI.” He then proceeded to ask me questions at the same volume, his voice echoing off the tiles, “WHO IS THAT? IS THAT MAN PEEING? Oh, THAT’S THE TOILET FLUSHING.”

The door to the restroom opened again. “HI. HI. WHO IS THAT DADDY? IS THAT MAN GOING TO PEE OR POOP?”

A few minutes later we heard the door open again.

I heard a woman from outside the restroom door instruct her son to make sure he washed his hands when he was done, and that she would wait for the boy outside the door. The boy must of been 7 or 8 years old, old enough to go on his own but young enough that he needed his mother to wait for him. The stall door next to us opened and a pair of little feet appeared.

“DADDY LOOK. A LITTLE BOY IS POOPING. HI BOY. I CAN SEE HIS SHOES, Daddy.”

It became very quiet in the restroom as Max leaned over to see the boys feet and he listened intently to the sounds in the stall next to us. We heard the little boy pee. “HE IS PEEING.”

We could hear the plopping in the toilet next to us. “THE BOY IS POOPING. IS THAT A BIG POOPY OR A LITTLE POOPY?”

The boy stood up. Which Max announced, “HE IS WIPING HIS HEINIE, DADDY.”

The toilet next to us flushed. “HE FLUSHED THE TOILET DADDY. Bye Bye boy. Bye Bye Poopy.”

I felt so bad for that little boy.

Happy Mother's Day

Mom,

I am a middle child. Sure, LW claims that he is the middle child since he is the 5th of 9 kids, and that would make him dead middle as far as numbers go; but after a little math I realized that I am the middle child as far as age goes. The oldest is 5 years older than me and the youngest is 5 years younger than me, so I, too, am the middle child.

I am not writing this fact, on the blog, so that I can get sympathy or extra attention, I am writing this because I know the real truth.

Since, I am truly in the middle child, I have, over the years, witnessed something that I think you need to be made aware of. When I was in kindergarten Sharon, the oldest, was in 5th grade. She used to walk us, Dennis, Kevin , Dan, John and myself, to elementary school. When I was in 5th grade I was the one responsible for walking Pat, Mike and Jim to school.

What I am trying to say is that I was part of every one of your kids' (all nine of them) walking-to-school experience.

This is the real truth. Whenever one of the neighborhood kids would say, "Step on a crack, break your mother's back." I, was the only one of your children that, would avoid stepping on cracks.

Happy Mother's Day.

I love you.

#6

Spanish Rooster

This morning, like most mornings, I was watching the Wiggles. The purple Wiggle told the red Wiggle that they were going to sing a song in Spanish. The Song they were going to sing was “Quack, Quack, Quack, Cock-a-doodle-doo.”

The song is, basically, about animal noises. They sang and I listened.

I do not speak or understand Spanish but I was shocked to hear the lyrics that sounded to me like “Quack quack quack, Ceek a deedle deedle dee.”

I was confused. "Ceek a deedle?" Do Spanish roosters sound different than other roosters? Spanish ducks make the same sound as, I guess, English ducks. So, why does the Spanish rooster sound so different?

I thought animal sounds, like Moo, Meow, Oink, Quack and, yes, Cock-a-doodle-doo, were all universal sounds.




Side note survey for those interested: As I contemplated the above post I realized that there are few different ways to make a dog sound. I usually use “Ruff, Ruff”. But there is also “woof woof”, “arf arf’ and I am sure a few others. What is your dog sound?

Beautiful Morning

I sat at the computer to read the morning news. My back was to my mom who was sipping her tea at the kitchen table. I was admiring the sunrise coming through the east window as she was watching the birdfeeders through the north facing windows. It was peaceful.

The sun was just peaking over the houses to the east, golden beams of light ricocheting off the dewed rooftops, piercing the gray of the morning. The aroma of coffee filled the kitchen and the soft cooing of mourning doves could be heard in the back yard. It was peaceful.

I sipped my coffee, contemplating the day ahead of me with a slight smile across my face, taking it all in, feeling happy to be alive. It was peaceful.

My mother broke the peaceful silence. She spoke in a steady whisper, "Oh. My. God. Look at those squirrels. On the branch of the dogwood, I think....I think they...are...doing it."

Juice Pouch

Capri Sun Juice pouches are a great invention. Kids love them. They are portable. They are small and can fit in most pockets or diaper bags. They are silver and filled with liquids that a kid cannot resist. They are like a flask for toddlers.

But there is a design flaw. The hole, where the straw gets inserted, is to close to the back of the package.

Every time I take the pointy straw and try and puncture the little plastic-hole-area, I always end up pushing the straw too far and it ends up piercing the other side of the pouch. When my kid squeezes the pouch, in an effort to get every last drop, the hole on the other side of the pouch becomes a mini geyser.

I guess that is why they have flavors called "Splash Cooler" and "Roarin Waters".

Enjoying the Spring

Happy Birthday Dad. Ask him what's in the cake and he would respond "Poop and Boogies."

Clearance

I was sitting at my desk at work on Thursday when my cell phone rang. I looked at the caller ID and saw that it was Lauren calling. I thought that it was strange that she would be calling me at 10:15 AM when I knew she should be at a doctor’s appointment. I answered the phone.

“Bill, I need you to come down here right away.” She said, her voice slightly panicked.

My heart started racing. What was wrong? Did she already see the doctor and did she get bad news? She was talking pretty fast and I had a hard time hearing her. The signal on her cell phone was fading in and out.

“I don’t know what to do. I need your help.” She said.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“The doctor’s office moved to a new location, and when I pulled around the building I didn’t realize I had to park in a parking garage.”

“And?”

“We never took the Turtle Top off the van.”

What we call the “Turtle Top”, is the big plastic Cargo Carrier we attached to the roof rack when we drove up from Florida 3 weeks ago. I was going to take it off and store it in my parent’s shed, but last week I demolished the shed ,so I left the cargo carrier on the van.

Lauren continued, “I had no problem pulling into the garage but as I keep driving, the Turtle Top keeps hitting the roof of the garage. It is so loud. People keep looking at me. I don’t think I will be able to get out of here. I am afraid that I may get stuck, or I may end up tearing the roof off the van. Every time it hits a beam it is so loud.”

I started laughing. I was relieved that she was okay. Lauren started laughing.

“Okay.” I said. “Where are you? I will come and take it off.”

She told me where I should go. “I just found a parking space, which I think it will be okay. It is between beams. I would take the thing off myself but I don’t know how.”

“Okay. Just go to the doctor and I will check with work to see if I can take an early lunch come down and take it off.”

I found the garage and her car and I made quick work of removing the cargo carrier and I placed it in the back of the van.

An hour later Lauren called to thank me. “You are my hero.” She said. “I was so afraid I was not going to get out of the garage. You should have seen the looks I was getting from everyone in the garage when I pulled in. It was so loud. I was embarrassed. Is every one at your office laughing us now?”

“Not everyone. Just the people I told. But you do realize I am going to blog about this, right?”

For the record...

..I think it is perfectly okay, while looking for a new house, to ask the realtor if the seller's disclosure would divulge information about whether the house is haunted or not.

Spit take

Lauren and I were settled in on the couch with Maxfield between us. Lauren was sipping a soda and Max was drinking water from a sippy cup. We were watching “the Dancing Show” before it was time to take Max to bed. Every so often Max would plead for a cookie or a treat which we refused. Max did not eat his dinner so he was cut off from anything else for the rest of the night.
Max watched his grandparents enjoy their evening snack of pudding and ice cream and he kept searching Lauren’s eyes to see if she would give in to his requests for something sweet. She and I repeatedly told him no.

At one point Max reached for Lauren’s cup to see what she was drinking and to see if he could have a taste. Lauren told him that he could not have any soda. Max asked for ice from Lauren’s cup. She told him no again.

After a few minutes, while Lauren’s eyes were on the TV, Max reached inside her cup that was resting on her lap. Lauren pulled the cup away.

“No Max. You cannot have any of my soda and don’t reach into my cup.” She said as she lifted the cup to her mouth and took a sip.

Max looked at her and held up his finger and with total innocence said, “No mommy, I was just wiping my boogies in there.”