Tuesday, February 28, 2006


We entered the pre-delivery ER area around 4-ish. After a quick exam and some conversation with the doctors on duty we were moved to a delivery room. Lauren was not having any contractions, but since her water broke they knew they would be delivering Maxfield within the next 24 hours.

They hooked up Lauren to the two machines with those wires hanging out of them (that is a medical term. Look it up), one to measure her contractions and the other to measure the baby’s heartbeat. I made some phone calls to our parents and we set up shop for the evening. Lauren was familiarizing herself with the room and I was familiarizing myself with the TV remote and what stations had proper reception. The Oscars were on and I did not want to miss it.

Different nurses and doctors came in to do the basic 36-point inspections. At one point a doctor suggested to induce Lauren to make sure the process would start. They injected her with inducing serum (another medical term). While we were waiting for something to happen Lauren’s parents showed up and hung out in the room with us. This would be their first grandchild and they were quite excited.

One of the residents with a group of 5 or 6 interns stopped in to check on Lauren’s status. He introduced himself and went about writing stuff on his clipboard. Lauren at this point started to feel the contractions but they weren’t that bad. The Oscar’s were underway but I was not paying too much attention. There were about a total of 12 people in the room. After the interns left, Lauren felt somewhat awkward with all the people in and out. I now became the gatekeeper. I had a job, which was great because it gave me something to do. Everyone left as Lauren’s contractions worsened.

We watched the contraction monitor, with the lines going up and down over and over again. Every time it blipped I asked Lauren if she was all right. She responded with, “That wasn’t so bad.” The Lord of the Rings won another Oscar. A man walked into the room. He was wearing a white jacket and walked right up to Lauren and grabbed her chart, he spoke with an accent and said something about having a look. I jumped up.

“Whoa whoa. Who are you?” My nervous energy jumping into my voice.

“I am Dr. So-and-so.”

“Okay and what are you doing?”

“I’m the chief resident.”

I looked to the nurse and she confirmed with a nod that he was Dr. So-and-so.

“Well it would be NICE if maybe you introduced yourself before examining my wife.”

He kind of backed away. The nurse explained that if our doctor for, some reason could not make it, this doctor would be delivering the baby.

“Fine. But you could still introduce yourself. Like “hi I am Dr. So-and-so, I’m the chief resident” before just saying you are going to examine her. I mean seriously you could be anybody in a white coat.” I was pissed.

The nurse and Lauren calmed me down and let the doctor do his work. They suggested that Lauren take something to help her sleep because she was going to be in for a long night and wanted her to have her strength for the pushing part. They also said it would help calm her and let nature take it’s course. They gave her some meds and she rested.

The nurse assigned to us suggested it would be time to get the epidural and the doctor concurred. It had to do with dilation and effacing and centimeters (damn I knew I should paid attention in grade school when they went over the Metric system) and percentages. Eppie the Epiduralist came in and worked his magic and inserted the needle thing into Lauren’s back. She winced but she said she was okay. Lord of the Rings wins another Oscar.

The rest of the time is a blur. Lauren woke with pains. She asked the nurse, “Should I be feeling this with the epidural?” The nurse answer no. “Well I am.” Said Lauren. The nurse got the doctor and they did an exam and the Lauren went from 2 centimeters to 8.5 in a matter of 1/2 an hour. The epidural probably was not going to work because of speed of her progression. Lauren really started to feel the contractions. The time was getting near. The Oscars were over for about an hour now.

There was pushing and breathing and medical staff in and out of the room. I stayed by Lauren’s face and was doing my best to coach her. I was thinking “That’s’ the old pepper that’s the old pepper” because that is how Bugs Bunny coached in that one episode where he is playing baseball, but I was saying, “Good Job” while holding her hand. Lauren turned to me and said, “Bill, Your are squeezing my hand too tight.”

There was more pushing and more pushing. Lauren did not moan or curse. She hunkered down. I was amazed at her thresh hold for pain. Our doctor showed up and got into the catchers position. “Oh the baby’s head is crowning. Wow, sure does have a lot of hair. Dad? Would you like to see?”

My back was towards the doctor my face inches from Lauren. “No. I am fine right here.”

“Oh the head is out. Dad? Do you want to see your baby?"

“I SAID, I am fine right here.”

Someone said final push. I looked back over my shoulder to see the doctor make a jerky sweeping motion with her arm towards the floor. She said “Whoops. He is a wiggly one.” As she snatched Max inches before he hit the ground. Wow. Close one. It was after 2 AM on March 1st.

The medical staff did the whole cleaning the baby thing and there was the usual gross stuff that followed deliveries. They brought Maxfield over to Lauren and placed him on her chest.

It was a moment I will never forget. For it was the first time I ever saw anything as beautiful, as amazing, as glorious as I witnessed right there, right then. It was the most beautiful sight I have ever seen.

It wasn’t Max.

It was Lauren. My wife. A mother. Beautiful.


On this day two years ago (actually it was not on this day, because the day two years ago does not exist this year, It was a leap year February 29th.) that Maxfield decided it was time to start his entrance into this world. I remember so much and so little from that day.

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

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

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

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

She did not say anything she just kept giggling.

“Did your water just break?”

“Yeah. And I’m wearing white pants.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?” Someone said.

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

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

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

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

Sunday, February 26, 2006

Saturday, February 25, 2006

Why God gave us teeth

Thursday, February 23, 2006


Anne lives down the street from us. Lauren and Anne get together a few times a week so Max can play with Anne’s kids. Last week Lauren had the pleasure of meeting Anne’s new, next-door neighbors an elderly couple that moved in a few weeks ago. Lauren chatted with them for while and they invited us over for this week to socialize.

Anne got a babysitter and we dropped Max at Anne’s and Anne, her husband, Lauren and I went next door. We walked in the front door and were greeted by William (very cool name) who greeted us all with a big smile and handshakes. I was last one through the front door and I introduced myself and joked about the two of us having the same name, as Lauren and the others headed through the house to the back porch.

Being a super observant person I noticed the William had a big white gauze patch that covered half of his forehead. Also being one who has to state the obvious I said, “What happened to you? Did you take a spill or did your wife crack you with a frying pan?”

William laughed and explained that he recently had some surgery to remove some cancerous tissue from his scalp and that he was undergoing treatment to make sure the wound healed properly. He started to tell me about himself, that he was retired pastor and that they moved to Florida to be closer to their grandchildren when his wife called us back to the porch, where we would sit and talk.

The group was chitchatting and making small talk when William asked me a question. Knowing full well that I just made the remark about the frying pan, to a man of the cloth, I said, “Let me start by saying this; I want to apologize to my wife beforehand, for anything I might say tonight that may embarrass her.”

To which Lauren replied, “And I want to apologize to everyone else for anything he might say to embarrass me.”

Tuesday, February 21, 2006

Should I be freaked?

A week after I posted this story I went out to my car to find an orange construction cone in my driveway. Not only was it in my driveway, it was sitting right next to the rear bumper of MY car.
I discovered it at 6:30 AM. It was not there the night before at 8:30pm when I ran out to my car to get something.

I asked Lauren, if it was her doing, and she denies it. I called the LawnWhisperer to see if he had arranged it and he denies it. I called my brother Kevin to see if maybe he had some connection to it. Nope. Both Kevin and LawnWhisperer both said they wished they had thought of it.

Now I have to ask;
1. Is it a coincidence? Maybe a random prank by some neighborhood kid?
2. Are Lauren, LawnWhisperer and Kevin in cahoots and are trying to play tricks on my mind?
3. Is there someone in my neighborhood who reads my blog and I do not know it?
3. Do I have some type of blog stalker trying to leave me a message?

I have to admit it is kind of freaky.

Monday, February 20, 2006

Double Standards

Why is it okay for a woman to say she is going out with a bunch of her girlfriends but it is not okay for a man to say the same thing?

Why is it okay for a wife to suggest to a husband that he ought to go to the gym, but it is not okay for the husband to suggest it to the wife?

How come it is okay for a woman to creep up behind a man while he is watching a History Channel special about serial killers, with the lights turned low, and to make him scream like a little girl and choke on the cookie he is eating and maybe make him tinkle a little, but it is not okay if I...I mean for a man to try and scare the woman back?

Double standards I tell ya.

They do not cover this on Dr. Phil

I know Dr. Phil and Super Nanny and every other parenting book/expert out there says that as parents you need to have a unified front. They say that both parents need to be on the same page when it comes to raising a child. That both parents need to enforce the same type of values or the same type of punishment when it comes to the children.

These experts claim that parents should not argue in front of the kids because the kid will see a possible weakness. Parents need to back each other up in front of their children.

A situation came up in our house the other day that may cause some serious issues for our kids in the future. It is a divide that Lauren and I cannot agree on when it comes to raising Max and future children. I do not, cannot and will not agree with or compromise with Lauren on this issue. I may have posted about this before but like all good arguments I need to air it out again.
I went home for lunch the other day and Lauren had made hot dogs for her, Max and myself. Then, Lauren, without checking with me gave Max ketchup for his hotdog. Ketchup, for crying out loud. Ketchup. Blech.

I am a mustard-on-a-hotdog type of person. Lauren is a Ketchup-on-a-hotdog person. She is trying to make Max a Ketchup-on-a-hotdog person. It is bad enough that he has light hair and his mothers complexion and he is showing signs that he is a right handed person when I am a south paw and was hoping he would be too, but now she is trying to make him a Ketchup-on-a-hotdog type of person.

Soon she will try to undermine my authority and try to convince Maxfiled that chocloate icecream is better than vanilla.

Saturday, February 18, 2006

It's an act

He acts like he is going to give you a bite of the chocolate covered strawberry, but he really is not.

Friday, February 17, 2006

You can dress us up...

Lauren and I received a gift certificate for $100 to a high-end furniture store when we closed on our house last year. The gift certificate came in a “welcome to the area” basket and was due to expire soon so we figured we would use it for accessories. Since it is difficult to shop for anything with Maxfield, we hired a babysitter and Lauren I went to the store to shop.

This furniture store was huge. 85000 square feet of overpriced couches, tables, bookshelves and area rugs. As we entered the store, as with car dealers, shoe stores and strip clubs, we were approached by a person working there that we knew was not going to leave us alone the entire time we would be there. The salesman’s name was Jim. He wanted to be our best friend.

Like most men I hate furniture shopping. Like most women Lauren enjoys it. She was browsing the different area’s looking for accessories as well as gathering some design idea’s for our house. Lauren, of course, would see a piece that she liked and would run her hand over the surface, open drawers and admire the craftsmanship. I, of course, would look at the price and roll my eyes and move on. Jim was never really out of eyesight of us.

At one point we approached a home theater room. This room was totally decked out. Surround sound, leather recliner seats with cup holders, a second row of recliner seats a step up from the first ones, a giant, and I mean Giant television, red fabric on the walls the whole shebang.

Lauren and I entered the room, sat down on the chairs and, admired the whole feel of the room. The only problem was that there was nothing on the TV.

We exited the room and our buddy Jim was standing there waiting to explain the finer details of the room.

“You can get that exact room, stereo, TV, surround sound, totally wired and installed for 170 thousand dollars.”

“Oh.” I said. “How come the TV is not on?”

“They don’t let us turn it on.”

“You know, if you had that television on, I would sit in there and watch it the whole time while my wife shopped. Just think about it. You could just play old football games and I would spend hours in there. I wouldn’t be bothering my wife to leave, and you might be able to make a sale.”

“Well” he replied. “We don’t actually own that room. The people that do, rent the space from us. So it is difficult to use it for our advantage.”

“That sucks.” I said “Just think of the money your store could make if you had a football game on in there……”

(and this is where the edit button stopped working.)

“……A football game or Porn”

Lauren rolled her eyes and said, “Bill!? Do you have to embarrass me every time we are out in public?”

I apologized.

Jim did a nervous chuckle and started to lead us into another section.

As we wound our way through the desks and dining tables in the next section Lauren stopped to admire a desk. Jim sensing that she was lagging behind slowed down to wait for her. She rubbed her hand over the surface, looked up and noticed that we were waiting.

“Oh. I’m sorry.” She said as she picked up her pace. Then with out realizing what she was saying she said, “I love feeling wood.”

I burst out laughing. “Do you have to embarrass me every time we are out in public.”

Thursday, February 16, 2006

A Phrase by any other Phrase....

Every family has it’s own little language. You know, a child mispronounces a word and eventually the mispronunciation actually becomes the way everyone says that particular word. Or maybe there is a phrase or a history behind a phrase that only people in the family know what it actually means.

I sometimes find myself using these phrases or words in normal conversation with people that are not in my family. People that I barley know. Sometimes I catch myself before actually using the “family” specific lingo, other times I do not, and I get a weird look, and then I find myself explaining why I said what I said.

Here is some of my family’s (or maybe it is just me) vocabulary.

Sa-dert.= A yummy treat after dinner.

K-MartS= A store. I don’t know where the “S” came from. I do not use this one but it is used in my family.

Terlet = Toilet

Bed Clothes = Sheets, linens, Blankets. I remember the first time I used the term “bed clothes” to Lauren, she looked at me like I had three heads.

Eck-specially= Especially. I always pronounce this with the ECK sound at the begining. I know there is no “C” in between the "E" and the "S". I know it is not pronounced that way but for some reason that is how I say it. Lauren always make fun of me for this.

BleeBing = Bleeding.

Now the next two are things that I cannot help myself but say whenever the either myself or someone else says one of the words.

If someone says “Sweet Potato”, I always have to say “Sweet potato, Sweet potato.” I do not know where this came from or why I say it or why I even say “Sweet potato” twice. “sweet potato, sweet potato.” See I even have to type it twice.

The other phrase is from the movie “Revenge of the Nerds”. Anytime someone says the word “PIE” The word that come out of my mouth on reflex is “Sank-you.” You have to see the movie to know what I am talking about.

What are your family specific words?

Go visit Lawn Whisperer.

Wednesday, February 15, 2006

First Impressions

The other day Lauren and I took Maxfield to the Barnes and Noble so Max could play with the Thomas Train set. (For the purposes of scientific study, Max did not poop. We are currently at a total of 6 trips to libraries or bookstores with 3 incidents since my last post about this.) While we are there we met a few other kids and their parents. As these types of things go there is the usual exchanging of statistical information about the kids.

“Oh how old is he? Trevor you must share.”

“Max will be two in March. How old is Trevor? Max give Nick the red one. You already have five trains.”

“Trevor is three. Is Nick your only one? Trevor play nice.”

“Yes Nick is 13 months old and we are expecting in June. Don’t put you mouth on that Nick.
And so on.

We had a good conversation with Nick’s parents and after discovering that Nick’s mom and Lauren are due at the same time they decided to exchange contact information for a possible playgroup.

We left the store and were continuing the conversation by our cars. Lauren and Nick’s Mom were over by their car when Nick’s Dad approached me at my car and asked me about our mini van. They were shopping for one and wanted to know how I felt about the KIA. I explained the pros and cons and that I thought our van was good. The only thing I did not like about it was that it didn’t have the “Stow and Go” seats in the back, the chairs that fold into the floor.

Nick’s Dad nodded and said, “Yes that would be good for hauling stuff like firewood.”

I laughed because I still find it weird that people in Florida have fireplaces and I responded, “Or dead bodies.”

Nick’s Dad did a double take and chuckled. I knew I messed up.

After we left, Lauren was happy to make a new contact and said that it would be good for Max to meet new kids. I turned to her and said, “That’s if they call.”

“Why wouldn’t they call?”

I told her about the dead body comment.

“Bill when are you going to learn to wait until after the first meeting of people to actually speak?”

Tuesday, February 14, 2006

The Most Romantic Thing Ever Done For Me

I was managing an after hours nightclub in Philadelphia when I first met Lauren. This nightclub was on the strip with all the other major nightclubs in the city. The club had a huge un-monitored parking lot where many club-goers would park whether they were coming into my club or not. In an effort to reserve parking spaces for VIP’s for my club I had 5 orange construction cones to block some spots. Five was not enough, and the different valet services on the strip would steal my cones.

I, eventually, used bar stools, trashcans or folding chairs in an effort to block more spots for the clubs patrons. I looked into buying more cones but they were expensive and there were also minimum orders of 100 cones or more. I only needed about 25. Whenever Lauren or I would go out and we passed a road construction site I would say in my best Homer Simpson voice, “Mmmmmm. Cones.” I would drool at how many cones were all over the street in different neighborhoods that were not really being used properly. If we drove by a soccer field that had cones marking the sidelines I would slow down and try to count them. Lauren always found it funny that I obsessed over any orange construction cone I would see. I admit I was obsessed.

One night, after a few months of dating Lauren, she called me at work and asked that I stop over her place after work. I found the request a little strange. After work for me was 4:30 in the morning. She would be asleep but I guess she wanted some company. She would leave the front door open for me.

I made my way home, changed out of my smells-like-smoke-fog-beer-sweat-vomit-clothes and walked to her apartment. She shared a house with other roommates and her room was on the third floor. I crept up the two flights of steps as quietly as I could so I would not wake her or her roommates. I knocked quietly on her door and opened it a crack to make sure she was there. The sun was just coming up and was lighting the room just enough for me to see her lying on the bed. I saw the flicker of a few candles casting shadows dancing on the wall. Her smile brightened the room even more. I smiled back and pushed the door further to enter.

The door got caught on something and only opened enough for me to squeeze through. It was at that point that I saw, what to this day is still one of the best things I have ever seen, her floor was covered with 35 orange construction cones. The smell of the polyvinyl rubber was intense. There was barely a spot for me to place my foot to walk across the room. It reminded me of the scene in Aliens when Ripley discovers the “egg-pod” room. I seriously could not believe it. I was shocked and I started laughing. Lauren laughed with me.

It was at that exact moment that I knew I was going to marry Lauren.

Lauren and her friend Jessica spent the previous night driving to many different construction sites and “borrowed” a few cones from each one. They filled their car with them and carried all of cones the two flights of stairs into her room so Lauren could surprise me.

Dad Vs. Dad

As I posted before the Lawn Whisperer has started his own blog. It was originally going to be a site where LW and I could post opposing views of parenting. Lawn whisperer was not sure if he had enough material to post on a regular basis. But after much discussion (3 minute phone call) we decided that Dad Vs. Dad would be a spot just for LW and I may guest post for him from time to time.

Kristine from Random and Odd and her fiance Shaun did a new design for Lawn Whisperer and it looks great. Please go check it out.

Sunday, February 12, 2006

Why I Blog

I collected comic books for close to 25 years. I am a geek. I loved picking up new issues of Batman, X-Men, Superman, Sandman and many others, each week to read how my heroes were doing. The flashy, colorful covers with “BATMAN” (or whatever title) across the top, the artwork and pictures, the words, especially the words, would keep me coming back every month. It was quite the addiction. But I loved it.

Some of the story arcs in these comics would expand several months with each issue ending in a cliffhanger that would make me have to a wait 30 days for the next one. 30 days to see how “ The Preacher” was going to get out of a jam. 30 days to see if Clark was going to propose to Lois. 30 days to read who was going to receive the keys of hell from Sandman, the king of dreams. 30 days was long time to see if my heroes, my friends were going to make it. I followed these characters, off and on, for 25 years.

My family and friends always thought it was weird. They would ask me, why do I collect comic books? What was the appeal? I would try to explain but I never could. I never could figure a way to explain that I was invested in the characters and that each month I wanted read what was going on. That every time I tried to stop buying comics something would make me go back. It was an addiction. But I loved it.

I gave up comic books about three years ago. It was becoming quite expensive. I sold off my collection through Ebay and other means when I moved to Florida to save on space.

One of my favorite comic book writers and authors is Neil Gaiman (Sandman). I discovered blogging through his website, which he uses to update his fans on the various projects he is developing. I would click on the links he would include in his posts and I found that there were a lot people out there blogging. I decided that I would give blogging a shot about three years ago and I have been blogging in some form or fashion since then.

It wasn’t until I started Poop and Boogies that I really started to blog on a regular basis. By commenting on other sites I found that people would comment on mine. I found a whole new world. I love clicking on Kalki, MRTL, Cat or Gumby Susie’s to see how my heroes are doing. The flashy, colorful entry pages with “Random and Odd”, “MetroDAD” “Rude Cactus”(or whatever title) on the masthead, the art, the pictures, the words, especially the words keep me coming back every day.

Some of the story arcs span several months with each day, maybe not having a cliffhanger, but that is okay, because I can always check back in a day or two. A day or two to see how Eclectic, Kimmyk, or MamaDuck are doing. A day or two to see if Lois Lane (Gotta love the name) is going to pick on her mom. A day or two to see how Von Krankipantzen is doing (she is beating cancer). A day or two to see if the heroes and friends are going to make it. Much better than 30 days.

Family and friends ask me about blogging all the time. Why do I do it? Who are those people that comment? Is it a cult?
I post on Poop and Boogies for my family. I get to be involved in the creative process of my "comic book". I did not take on a code name or anything but at least I helped to create the LawnWhisperer.

But who are all these other bloggers that read my posts? That is always tough to answer. Some are people with secret identities; some have codenames like comic book characters; others have fascinating stories to tell. Some…I don’t know. I’m addicted. I love it.

Thursday, February 09, 2006

Can I get a lick?

My dad, who goes by Pa to his grandkids, started a tradition about 15 years ago of teaching his grandkids, instead of giving kisses, to give licks. For years, each grandkid has learned this trick, much to his delight and much to my mom’s disgust. I am happy to report that Maxfield has learned the art of the Lick.

Also sibling rivalry never dies. The LawnWhisperer, the middle child, the Keystone, one of my guest bloggers, has decided (with the help of me) to start his own blog. He was tired of me getting attention and feels as though he needs his own space to tell his version of parenting. I am not sure how often he will post, but please check it out because he is funny. The title of his blog is Dad Vs. Dad (click to see his first post). He wants to show the flip side of parenting.


I was in the 5th grade when my Mom started watching some of the neighborhood kids for some side money. Actually, I don’t know if she ever made any money or if she just did it out of the kindness of her heart. But every morning a couple of kids would be dropped off at our house before school. They were Jeff and his sister Pam and another girl named Sarah. My mom would make sure that they all made their way to school, along with my brothers and I, and then after school she would watch them until their parents picked them up. (Now that I think about it, these kids were my responsibility on the walk to and from school since I was the oldest out of everyone that had to make the 4 block walk. So I have to guess that my mom did NOT make any money because I am sure she would have cut me in on the action since I was the responsible one).

After school, I would lead the 7 of us back to our house where we would play in the street or on Bob’s (my best friend who lived across the street) yard until, either dinner time, or until Mrs. Luchuk, the old cranky lady that lived next to Bob, would call the cops or come out and yell at us, whatever came first, and it was usually Mrs. Luchuk. (Hag).

Sometimes the other kids would not be at my house. Jeff and his father would be away hunting for a week. Sarah would be staying with her grandparents. I think there were other kids somewhere along the way, that I do not remember, but there were always a bunch of us playing in the street. Mrs. Luchuk would yell at us, and sometimes her husband, who was a nice man, would come out and apologize to us. Or Mr. Luchuk would tell his wife to come inside and leave the kids alone. Sometimes he would retrieve the ball that landed on his yard for us because we were too afraid to approach the house. He was nice man.

One day, my mom asked that we all play inside because Mr. Luchuk had died. She wanted to give Mrs. Luchuk a break. Later after all the other kids left we sat down to have dinner. My mom made meat loaf. My mom’s meat loaf was good. Not great, but good. It was consistent. It tasted the same every time. This particular night it did NOT taste the same.

“Mom, why does this taste funny?” One of us asked.
“I made it the same way I always make it. Eat it.” She would reply.
The LawnWhisperer asked, as he did with every meal, “Mom? Is there onions in here?” He hated onions.
“No John.”
“Mom this doesn’t taste right. What is it?” Said another brother.
Dad spoke up. “Poop and boogies. Eat it.”

At one point my mom announced that she did make the meatloaf a little different this time but she would only tell us what she used after we all ate it. After a while we all seemed to finish our meals although we were little wary of what my mom was going to tell us. We were waiting for Pat to finish his plate (Pat was always the last to finish) so we could all hear Mom’s secret ingredient. As Pat finished his last few bites, my mom told us what we had just eaten.

“I did make the meatloaf a little different.” She said. “I used a different kind of meat. It is called Venison.”

“Venison? What’s that?” Someone said.

“Well.” My mom replied, “Do you know how Jeff and his father go hunting? Well the last time they went, they shot a deer. Jeff’s dad was nice enough to bring us some ground venison so I used it for the meatloaf.”

There was an up roar at our house. “We ate deer meat?”
“Mom that’s like eating Bambi.”
“Ohh. Gross.”
“I will never eat meatloaf again.”
These were just some of the comments.

As I was clearing the table, I turned to my mom and I said, “I did not think it was too bad. And I am glad you said it was deer meat. I thought you were going to say it was Mr. Luchuk.”

Tuesday, February 07, 2006

The Three Monsters

I wanted to thank everyone who voted in the Best of Blog awards. They have announced the winners and Poop and Boogies ended up tied for third place in the category in which it was nominated. I really appreciate the interest it has brought to this blog and I like the fact the that different people have read some of my posts. I also want to thank everyone who visits here on a regular basis, for, doing just that. You take a little time out of your day and you invest it in Poop and Boogies, and for that I am grateful.

Monday, February 06, 2006

Yang's Anatomy

I really like the television show Grey's Anatomy. It is one of my favorite shows. The characters are great. I love the dialogue. It is not too serious of a show. The acting is decent. And I admit (let the jokes fly) I think Patrick Dempsey deserves the title Dr. McDreamy. But I was really annoyed with Sunday nights post SuperBowl show.

Seriously, the cliffhanger, the "To be continued"ending, has Meredith Grey, the TITLE character, left holding a bomb in some guy's chest. Leaving us, the viewers, possibly thinking, "Ooohhh. She may die. I must watch next week."

The TITLE character is not going to die. She is Grey. THEE Grey in Grey's Anatomy. If she dies are they going to change the show to Yang's Anatomy?

Yang is the name of one of the other main characters in the show.

I don't think so. Think of all the advertisers who would pull out. No pun intended.


The other day a box was delivered to my house. There were two notes with the contents. This is the first note.

Having to sons is a difficult job
Raising them is very tough.
But I find it more difficult to manage the storage
Of all their toys and stuff.

There are toys in the attic, and toys in the closet
There are toys on the bedroom floor.
There are toys in the basment, and toys in the garage
There are toys behind every door.

They have videos of stupid shows
They have movies and sing-a-longs
You know the ones where the characters
Sing silly and annoying songs

They have clothes for dressing up, and clothes for play
And they have clothes for wearing to bed.
They have slippers that are yellow, and shoes that are brown
and their sneakers are white and red.

So I found a solution, I have made a plan
This is what I am going to do.
All the things that I don't want anymore,
I am shipping them down to you.

Thanks. John.

The second note read:
Bill and Lauren, I know Maxfield likes Thomas. I hate Thomas. So this is a good move. John.

The box contained about ten Thomas the Tank Engine video tapes.
Basically the Lawn Whisperer sent Video Crack to my son.

Friday, February 03, 2006


Monday, we went to the OB/Gyn-Kenobi for Lauren’s 20 weeks check up and Ultra-Sound. (must…reach…Beta Capsule. Sorry, that is from Ultra Man). We were delighted to be able to see the baby for the first time. The technician made small talk with us as she started the process of moving the wand over Lauren’s belly and clicked away on her computer. She made measurements of different body parts and was printing pictures. I was not paying too much attention because I had Max, and the excitement of finding out the gender overwhelmed me. We were able to see the gender of the baby and as far as we could tell everything looked great. The technician mentioned that the placenta was a little low, but that should correct itself.

We then waited for Dr. Jones to review the photos and listen to the heartbeat. Lauren and I were excited and happy knowing what we were going to have and were smiling, and talking to Maxfield about his new baby sibling. We were happy. Dr. Jones entered, carrying the pictures and said, “Everything looks okay, but I noticed the placenta is a little low medical mumbo jumbo, blah bah blah, so no sex for eight weeks, medical mumbo jumbo, blah blah blah.”

“Whoa? Did you just say no sex?” I said. “Did she put you up to this?”

Dr. Jones, Lauren and I all laughed and were making jokes about prescribing no sex. Dr. Jones then got serious and said, “We also noted there is a bright spot on the baby’s heart. We feel you should go see a specialist right away for a better Ultrasound.”

The happiness and the jokes came to a screeching halt. We asked questions.

Dr. Jones said that it probably is nothing to be concerned about but we should get the second opinion as soon as possible so we could have a more definitive answer and to ease our minds. The bright spot could be a tumor or a cyst and it is also an indicator of Down's Syndrome. Dr. Jones called the specialist and set an appointment for later that day, in two hours.

That is 120 minutes. 7200 seconds. Forever.

We made arrangements to have our neighbor watch Max for the rest of the day and tried to think positive thoughts. The drive to the specialist was a somber one. We went from joy and elation to worry and tension in a matter of seconds and neither Lauren nor I could really speak.

We entered the Ultra sound room at the specialist’s and the technician made small talk as she started the process of moving the wand over Lauren’s belly and clicked away on the computer. I was focused on what she was doing. She measured the femur, the kidneys, the head. Click. Click. Click. The tech found the heart and started taking pictures. Sure enough you could see the bright spot. She took more measurements. Click Click. She then changed the image on the computer to show the blood flow. It looked like Thermo imaging. She said things looked fine.

She stopped the small talk and said that she sees this bright spot at least 10 times a week, at that 90 % turn out to be just a cluster of muscle tissue that corrects itself as the baby develops. It is not a tumor. A tumor would look different. I think I finally caught my breath at this point. She gave us a couple of the prints and she left to consult the doctor.

We waited for about 5 minutes. 300 seconds. Forever.

The doctor entered, smiled and said. “The baby is fine. You have nothing to worry about. All the other measurements are normal so I do not think it is Down's. This is just a cluster of muscle tissue that should correct itself.” Wow what a relief.

The doctor spoke for a few more minutes. “The placenta seems low and medical mumbo jumbo, blah blah blah, no sex for 8 weeks, medical mumbo jumbo.”

“What? C’mon you doctors are killing me.” I said.

The doctor, Lauren and I all laughed and started joking. We were happy again. Relieved.

8 weeks. 56 days. 1344 hours. 80,640 minutes. Forever. I don’t care*. My kid is okay.
We do need to get another Ultrasound in 8 weeks just to make sure.

For those that want to know the gender of the new Poop and Boogies baby. Go HERE. Please refrain from leaving a comment here in regards to the gender because I know some people do not want to know.

* Lauren- I do care but I can wait.

Thursday, February 02, 2006


We had the ultrasound the other day. More to follow.