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.
Tuesday, February 14, 2006
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.
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.
Switcheroo
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.”
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.
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.
Stuff
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.
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
Ultrasound.
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.
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
Tuesday, January 31, 2006
Trimming down
I am not one for the whole making a New Year Resolution thing. But this year I decided to make one. So on this last day of January 2006 I resolve to trim my nose hair and ear hair more often.
Needless to say my wife is very happy.
Needless to say my wife is very happy.
Monday, January 30, 2006
What to expect
When Lauren was pregnant with Max, besides reading the books and online stuff about pregnancy, we also took a “birthing class” so we could get a better understanding of what to expect. This time we are not taking the class. I think the fact that I acted like a twelve year old, the last time in Birthing Class, will keep us from going this time.
Those classes are difficult to get through with watching videos of other peoples births and other women screaming and groaning. So as a defense mechanism, when I feel uncomfortable I would use humor to deal with the discomfort of such topics. Plus the people teaching would say words that would make me laugh. Like “engorged breasts”.
They would also use acronyms and memory tricks to help us fathers remember what we were supposed to be learning. Like the 511 rule. Which I think was, that if there are 51 contractions in 1 hour you need to call the doctor ( I don't remember). Or C.O.A.T. COAT is the trick to remember what to look out for when a woman’s water breaks so one can relay the info to the doctor. The teacher was going over them “C is for color. Is it clear? Bloody? That type of thing. O is for odor. If it has a bad odor you need to tell the doctor. A is for amount. Let the doctor know if it was a trickle or a gush.” At this point I leaned into Lauren and said, “If she says T is for taste we are out of here.”*
Anyway, we (Lauren mostly) have been reading “What to Expect When You Are Expecting”, “The Girlfriend's Guide to Pregnancy” As well as other websites and what not about pregnancy. I have been looking at different chapters and stuff to kind of prepare me for what is coming up and I noticed some interesting things. The following is in no way a reflection on Lauren nor is she going through any of the specific things I am mentioning. Lauren is not the norm and never has been which is one of the reasons that I love her and that I married her. But I found these bits of information funny.
In the “What to expect” book, they break down each month of the pregnancy and what a person may be feeling physically and emotionally. 6 of the 9 months say what you may be feeling emotionally “Irritability, mood swings, irrationality, weepiness.” I thought that was given, and pretty much sums up the first year of parenthood itself.
An online pregnancy magazine said, “At this point the extenal female genitalia may become more distinguished.” My response was “What does it get gray around the sides and look like a professor? Maybe it starts smoking a pipe.”
Then these books and articles talk about frequent urination, (getting up in the middle of the night a few times to go) loss of sleep and being tired all the time during pregnancy. I always thought that if you were not getting sleep you would be tired. And after having Max I realized that God is pretty funny and smart. During the 9 months of pregnancy with all the loss of sleep and getting up in the middle of the night to pee, HE is just preparing you for those every three-hour feedings.
Lastly, these books seem to be somewhat insulting to husbands. There is always a chapter that states, "Have your partner read this chapter." Or, "For Fathers Only." I find this insulting because it basically says that fathers won't read the rest of the book. Which is true, but it still insults me.
*T actually stood for Time of the water breaking.
MooneyAngelo is updated.
Those classes are difficult to get through with watching videos of other peoples births and other women screaming and groaning. So as a defense mechanism, when I feel uncomfortable I would use humor to deal with the discomfort of such topics. Plus the people teaching would say words that would make me laugh. Like “engorged breasts”.
They would also use acronyms and memory tricks to help us fathers remember what we were supposed to be learning. Like the 511 rule. Which I think was, that if there are 51 contractions in 1 hour you need to call the doctor ( I don't remember). Or C.O.A.T. COAT is the trick to remember what to look out for when a woman’s water breaks so one can relay the info to the doctor. The teacher was going over them “C is for color. Is it clear? Bloody? That type of thing. O is for odor. If it has a bad odor you need to tell the doctor. A is for amount. Let the doctor know if it was a trickle or a gush.” At this point I leaned into Lauren and said, “If she says T is for taste we are out of here.”*
Anyway, we (Lauren mostly) have been reading “What to Expect When You Are Expecting”, “The Girlfriend's Guide to Pregnancy” As well as other websites and what not about pregnancy. I have been looking at different chapters and stuff to kind of prepare me for what is coming up and I noticed some interesting things. The following is in no way a reflection on Lauren nor is she going through any of the specific things I am mentioning. Lauren is not the norm and never has been which is one of the reasons that I love her and that I married her. But I found these bits of information funny.
In the “What to expect” book, they break down each month of the pregnancy and what a person may be feeling physically and emotionally. 6 of the 9 months say what you may be feeling emotionally “Irritability, mood swings, irrationality, weepiness.” I thought that was given, and pretty much sums up the first year of parenthood itself.
An online pregnancy magazine said, “At this point the extenal female genitalia may become more distinguished.” My response was “What does it get gray around the sides and look like a professor? Maybe it starts smoking a pipe.”
Then these books and articles talk about frequent urination, (getting up in the middle of the night a few times to go) loss of sleep and being tired all the time during pregnancy. I always thought that if you were not getting sleep you would be tired. And after having Max I realized that God is pretty funny and smart. During the 9 months of pregnancy with all the loss of sleep and getting up in the middle of the night to pee, HE is just preparing you for those every three-hour feedings.
Lastly, these books seem to be somewhat insulting to husbands. There is always a chapter that states, "Have your partner read this chapter." Or, "For Fathers Only." I find this insulting because it basically says that fathers won't read the rest of the book. Which is true, but it still insults me.
*T actually stood for Time of the water breaking.
MooneyAngelo is updated.
Friday, January 27, 2006
Note to self....
...when speaking with a pregnant person, and that person is talking about the weight they have gained during their pregnancy, don’t say “Oh you look like you gained more than that.”
Thursday, January 26, 2006
Wednesday, January 25, 2006
Milestone
Maxfield has learned to spit.
This is definitely a milestone in a little boy’s life. I am not talking about saliva or hocking loogies just yet, but it is the actual art of spitting that he has figured out.
A few months ago, while he was drinking water, he discovered that if he opened his mouth, the water would spill out onto his face and chest. Since then he has been working on forcing it out of his mouth and he perfected the raspberry-lips-vibrating-fine-mist-spray-spit-take technique.
Yesterday, he figured out how to actually project the water in a stream away from his body. His accuracy sucks, but his distance is a foot or so, which is a good start. I figure we could practice after watching Outlaw Josey Wales a few times because no one has spit-accuracy like Clint Eastwood does in that film.
We need to work on his spit etiquette though. Last night he took a swig of juice, walked over to Lauren as if he was going to give her kiss, and as she leaned in she said, “Ahhh are you giving mommy a ….blech.”
He spit the juice into her mouth.
This is definitely a milestone in a little boy’s life. I am not talking about saliva or hocking loogies just yet, but it is the actual art of spitting that he has figured out.
A few months ago, while he was drinking water, he discovered that if he opened his mouth, the water would spill out onto his face and chest. Since then he has been working on forcing it out of his mouth and he perfected the raspberry-lips-vibrating-fine-mist-spray-spit-take technique.
Yesterday, he figured out how to actually project the water in a stream away from his body. His accuracy sucks, but his distance is a foot or so, which is a good start. I figure we could practice after watching Outlaw Josey Wales a few times because no one has spit-accuracy like Clint Eastwood does in that film.
We need to work on his spit etiquette though. Last night he took a swig of juice, walked over to Lauren as if he was going to give her kiss, and as she leaned in she said, “Ahhh are you giving mommy a ….blech.”
He spit the juice into her mouth.
Tuesday, January 24, 2006
Reality TV
So we are sitting, watching American Idol, when I started singing "Chain of Fools" by Aretha. You know the one..."Chain Chain Chain, Chain of fools", when I look over to Lauren and I say,
"You know what? I am going to audition for the next American Idol."
She smiles and says to me, dead serious, "They are auditioning for the Biggest Loser at Jimmy Buffet's Margaritaville you should try that."
"Chain, chain chai-." I stopped singing and shook my head to make sure I heard what she was suggesting. "Did you just..were you suggesting...?"
She laughed a devilish laugh and said, "Put that in your little Blog and smoke it. "
"You know what? I am going to audition for the next American Idol."
She smiles and says to me, dead serious, "They are auditioning for the Biggest Loser at Jimmy Buffet's Margaritaville you should try that."
"Chain, chain chai-." I stopped singing and shook my head to make sure I heard what she was suggesting. "Did you just..were you suggesting...?"
She laughed a devilish laugh and said, "Put that in your little Blog and smoke it. "
Bun in the oven
Lauren is now about 19 weeks pregnant. Next week we go in for an ultrasound. Yes, we will find out the sex of the baby. We have not decided if we will tell people the sex or not. Some people think we should not find out whether it is a boy or a girl. I know my dad wants to be surprised. It is tough keeping everyone happy.
But finding out the sex it will make things so much easier. If we find out we are having a boy, we will be in good shape. No need to really buy too much of anything. Maybe a toddler bed for Max but that is pretty much it. If we find out we are having a girl, we will need to get our act together and buy pink things, and dresses and hair ties and barrette's and dolls and tampons.
When Lauren was pregnant with Max we told people that we were having a boy. Of course the next question that came up was, “What are you going to name him?” Like most first timers we made the mistake of mentioning a few names that we picked only to hear how horrible those names were. Both my mom and Lauren’s mom were the biggest offenders. They would scrunch up their faces and say things like, “Oh? Well that is like that actor, who was in that movie and I really did not like him in that. That is a bad name.” Or “Oh I know 25 people that name and not one of them ever amounted to anything.”
I embellished slightly. Slightly.
So when we decided Maxfield would be his name we did not tell anyone. Also, there are so many people in my family siblings, aunts, uncles and cousins and there really are no duplicate names amongst us (unless it is a junior) that we protect names so no one else will steal it. A guy I work with suggested we name our kid “Doctor”. That way he/she will always have a leg up in life.
“Doctor Jones, your table is ready.”
But finding out the sex it will make things so much easier. If we find out we are having a boy, we will be in good shape. No need to really buy too much of anything. Maybe a toddler bed for Max but that is pretty much it. If we find out we are having a girl, we will need to get our act together and buy pink things, and dresses and hair ties and barrette's and dolls and tampons.
When Lauren was pregnant with Max we told people that we were having a boy. Of course the next question that came up was, “What are you going to name him?” Like most first timers we made the mistake of mentioning a few names that we picked only to hear how horrible those names were. Both my mom and Lauren’s mom were the biggest offenders. They would scrunch up their faces and say things like, “Oh? Well that is like that actor, who was in that movie and I really did not like him in that. That is a bad name.” Or “Oh I know 25 people that name and not one of them ever amounted to anything.”
I embellished slightly. Slightly.
So when we decided Maxfield would be his name we did not tell anyone. Also, there are so many people in my family siblings, aunts, uncles and cousins and there really are no duplicate names amongst us (unless it is a junior) that we protect names so no one else will steal it. A guy I work with suggested we name our kid “Doctor”. That way he/she will always have a leg up in life.
“Doctor Jones, your table is ready.”
Monday, January 23, 2006
Cycle
Bill: You know you and I should try to find the time to (wink wink).
Lauren: It is so tough. After a long day, getting Max bathed and to bed, cleaning up the house, after all that I am ready to sleep.
Bill: Yeah. I know. By the time all that is done I am just ready to watch TV.
Lauren: You should stop watching TV.
Bill: You should stop falling asleep so early.
Lauren: I wouldn’t if I weren’t pregnant. Do you see the vicious cycle we are in?
Thanks to Lauren and Lawnwhisperer for filling in for me while I was away.
Lauren: It is so tough. After a long day, getting Max bathed and to bed, cleaning up the house, after all that I am ready to sleep.
Bill: Yeah. I know. By the time all that is done I am just ready to watch TV.
Lauren: You should stop watching TV.
Bill: You should stop falling asleep so early.
Lauren: I wouldn’t if I weren’t pregnant. Do you see the vicious cycle we are in?
Thanks to Lauren and Lawnwhisperer for filling in for me while I was away.
Friday, January 20, 2006
Parenting Tip by Lauren
Never leave a toddler, a dog, and a cup of yogurt in a room together unattended.
See My Thumb?
Guest Post by William's brother The LawnWhisperer.
It is well documented that I am not the world’s perfect father. I am the one that documents this, so I know it to be truth. I am, however, very clever in my ability to avoid Child Meltdowns. I have written about this ability in the past, and am going to share another perfectly orchestrated, quick thinking, and catastrophe stopping moment. Some of you may find this to be a bit unsettling, but I do what I have to do for my own sanity. Don’t try these techniques at home, unless you are willing to live with the consequences.
We were having one of those dinners that did not sit well with the kids. Young Skywalker and Solo do not like anything that is not nuggets or pizza, so they often fight us on the subject. Luke was especially upset on Monday about his soup. He wanted no parts of it, and was being a total pain in the ass. The whining and crying was growing more annoying by the minute. The threat of no dessert is no good in my house, cause I subscribe to the dessert before dinner theory. That is an entirely different blog topic. Anyway, he was up in arms and I was getting the early stages of heartburn. I had to react, and react I did. I sang the famous child jingle about beans. We were not having beans, but I sang it anyway. “Beans, Beans, they’re good for your heart. The more you eat, the more you fart.” Skywalker looked at me and smiled. Solo looked at me like I just said a bad word. They asked me to repeat it. So I did. They laughed the biggest belly laughs. They laughed until tears rolled down their face. They called pop-pop and sang it. They called Uncle Bill and sang it. They sang it, and sang it, and sang it. They also ate their soup. Then we had some ice cream, and sang it some more.
The down side to such tactics is that they are singing it every night. We still laugh just as hard, but Mrs. Whisperer is getting a bit upset. She is concerned about when the teacher calls home. I don’t have to field those calls, so I am not very concerned, but I see her point. I have already taught them the “see my pinky, gee your stinky”, and the ever popular “see my thumb, gee your dumb” rhymes. I want them to hear it from me, before they pick it up on the schoolyard. It’s a father teaching kids how to be kids, isn’t it? Anyway, “does your face hurt? No, well it’s killing me.” Sorry, but my guys love that one too.
It is well documented that I am not the world’s perfect father. I am the one that documents this, so I know it to be truth. I am, however, very clever in my ability to avoid Child Meltdowns. I have written about this ability in the past, and am going to share another perfectly orchestrated, quick thinking, and catastrophe stopping moment. Some of you may find this to be a bit unsettling, but I do what I have to do for my own sanity. Don’t try these techniques at home, unless you are willing to live with the consequences.
We were having one of those dinners that did not sit well with the kids. Young Skywalker and Solo do not like anything that is not nuggets or pizza, so they often fight us on the subject. Luke was especially upset on Monday about his soup. He wanted no parts of it, and was being a total pain in the ass. The whining and crying was growing more annoying by the minute. The threat of no dessert is no good in my house, cause I subscribe to the dessert before dinner theory. That is an entirely different blog topic. Anyway, he was up in arms and I was getting the early stages of heartburn. I had to react, and react I did. I sang the famous child jingle about beans. We were not having beans, but I sang it anyway. “Beans, Beans, they’re good for your heart. The more you eat, the more you fart.” Skywalker looked at me and smiled. Solo looked at me like I just said a bad word. They asked me to repeat it. So I did. They laughed the biggest belly laughs. They laughed until tears rolled down their face. They called pop-pop and sang it. They called Uncle Bill and sang it. They sang it, and sang it, and sang it. They also ate their soup. Then we had some ice cream, and sang it some more.
The down side to such tactics is that they are singing it every night. We still laugh just as hard, but Mrs. Whisperer is getting a bit upset. She is concerned about when the teacher calls home. I don’t have to field those calls, so I am not very concerned, but I see her point. I have already taught them the “see my pinky, gee your stinky”, and the ever popular “see my thumb, gee your dumb” rhymes. I want them to hear it from me, before they pick it up on the schoolyard. It’s a father teaching kids how to be kids, isn’t it? Anyway, “does your face hurt? No, well it’s killing me.” Sorry, but my guys love that one too.
Wednesday, January 18, 2006
Dipper or Scooper
Guest blogging by The LawnWhisperer. (LawnWhisperer is William's brother, who William feels should start his own blog because, well, because he is funny.)
Dipper or Scooper
There are two types of people in this world. There are dippers, and there are scoopers. I myself am a dipper, and I am surrounded by scoopers. Most of my family is scoopers. My dad is a big time scooper; I think he invented the scoop. My two youngest brothers, Mike and Jim, are scoopers, but I think they are pretend scoopers. They scooped all their life, just to get under my skin. Then I went and married a scooper. I should have done a better job of questioning while we were dating. I asked the silly questions like, “What are your thoughts on having kids?” “How many would you like to have?” “Are you a democrat or republican or neither?” “Where do you see us in ten years?” Then finally, “Will you marry me?”
I never asked the big question, “Are you a dipper or a scooper?” I’ll tell you, I am pissed that I did not ask the question. It definitely would have made me think twice about marrying her, if I knew ahead of time that she was a scooper. See, this is of major importance at snack time. I love chips and dip. I make a nice garlic dip. The perfect amount of garlic salt mixed with sour cream is mouth watering. It makes the worst kind of potato chip taste like heaven. One bowl of this dip gets you through a half bag of chips. That is if you are a dipper. If you are a scooper, you get maybe 10 chips. I hate sharing my dip with a scooper. I like to dip the chip in the dip. After all, it is called dip.
Sharing with a scooper, throws off the recipe. If I know I am sharing my snack with a scooper, I have to make more dip. Sometimes I will make two bowls, one bowl of dip, and one bowl of scoop. This way I get to enjoy my entire snack. But my wife wastes her scoop. She won’t eat it all, and then it gets tossed. That is perfectly good dip, that I could have another night, but it goes to waste.
I have tried to teach my wife to be a dipper, but she refuses. My siblings and parents have never crossed over to the dipper side. It is almost like a scooper creed, once a scooper, always a scooper. I am trying to teach my two little guys to be dippers. My daughter is a lost soul now. She has been with a scooper for far to long. I can’t convert her, but the little guys are still impressionable. There is hope still, but it will be difficult. I should have married a dipper. I did not ask the question, and now I am paying the price.
So all you single guys out there take notice of the important things. Ask the right questions before you pop the question. It will make a big difference at snack time. “ Are you a dipper, or a scooper?” If she replies in a way that is negative to your view on this topic, leave her. It will be better in the long run.
Dipper or Scooper
There are two types of people in this world. There are dippers, and there are scoopers. I myself am a dipper, and I am surrounded by scoopers. Most of my family is scoopers. My dad is a big time scooper; I think he invented the scoop. My two youngest brothers, Mike and Jim, are scoopers, but I think they are pretend scoopers. They scooped all their life, just to get under my skin. Then I went and married a scooper. I should have done a better job of questioning while we were dating. I asked the silly questions like, “What are your thoughts on having kids?” “How many would you like to have?” “Are you a democrat or republican or neither?” “Where do you see us in ten years?” Then finally, “Will you marry me?”
I never asked the big question, “Are you a dipper or a scooper?” I’ll tell you, I am pissed that I did not ask the question. It definitely would have made me think twice about marrying her, if I knew ahead of time that she was a scooper. See, this is of major importance at snack time. I love chips and dip. I make a nice garlic dip. The perfect amount of garlic salt mixed with sour cream is mouth watering. It makes the worst kind of potato chip taste like heaven. One bowl of this dip gets you through a half bag of chips. That is if you are a dipper. If you are a scooper, you get maybe 10 chips. I hate sharing my dip with a scooper. I like to dip the chip in the dip. After all, it is called dip.
Sharing with a scooper, throws off the recipe. If I know I am sharing my snack with a scooper, I have to make more dip. Sometimes I will make two bowls, one bowl of dip, and one bowl of scoop. This way I get to enjoy my entire snack. But my wife wastes her scoop. She won’t eat it all, and then it gets tossed. That is perfectly good dip, that I could have another night, but it goes to waste.
I have tried to teach my wife to be a dipper, but she refuses. My siblings and parents have never crossed over to the dipper side. It is almost like a scooper creed, once a scooper, always a scooper. I am trying to teach my two little guys to be dippers. My daughter is a lost soul now. She has been with a scooper for far to long. I can’t convert her, but the little guys are still impressionable. There is hope still, but it will be difficult. I should have married a dipper. I did not ask the question, and now I am paying the price.
So all you single guys out there take notice of the important things. Ask the right questions before you pop the question. It will make a big difference at snack time. “ Are you a dipper, or a scooper?” If she replies in a way that is negative to your view on this topic, leave her. It will be better in the long run.
Tuesday, January 17, 2006
Stormy Weather (That Darn Cat)
Guest Post by Lauren (William's wife)
It is my pleasure to be once again guest blogging on Poop and Boogies. Today's post is meant to make all you parents out there who may occasionally question what kind of job you are doing, feel a whole lot better.
One morning last week, Max is happily watching NOGGIN, his favorite channel, Luna, our dog, is sniffing her way around the backyard, and I am cleaning up from breakfast before an appointment with a contractor. Our next door neighbors have a very sweet cat named Stormy, who occasionally will come into our backyard and, among other things, do her business. And occasionally, as some dogs are known to do, our lovely beast, Luna, likes to dig up these tasty little treats and, you guessed it, savor Stormy's homemade delicacies, to put it mildly.
Of course, I find this absolutely repugnant, so go out back to stop her and bring her inside, when OUR cat, who is an indoor cat, tries to make a break for it. Impressed with my own speed and agility, I quickly shut the back door before he is able to make his escape.
After reprimanding Luna for her incredibly uncivilized behavior (even for a dog) we make our way back to the door when...
Uh-oh, why is it locked? We never use the door knob lock, we always dead bolt it. Someone must have turned it by accident. No worries, Max is still inside watching TV, I'll just go around front. Nope. Front door is locked. Crap! We started dead bolting the front door since Max can now open it by himself. Ok, think, think, think. Oh, of course, I'll just use the remote garage door opener and go in through the garage! Genius! Thank God the new minivan is unlocked...the.. new.... minivan, that never gets parked in the garage, because there is too much junk in there, so we therefore never bothered to put the remote opener in there. Ok, now I'm sweating it. Wait! The next door neighbors have our key!And they're home! Hallelujah!! Knock on the door-
"We have your key? Umm,ok we'll check." (rifling through some drawers in the next room, there is some urgent whispering that I can't quite make out). Meanwhile, thoughts are racing through my head of what Max could possibly be getting into all by himself back at the home front:
Teetering at the top of our 16 + stepstairwell, doing belly flops off the back of the sofa, unplugging kitchen appliancesand sticking forks in the now vacant outlets (yeah, we're mostly childproofed). My God, my God! MY GOD, WHAT IS TAKING SO LONG??????????
"Uh, sorry, but I think we gave your key back to you , Lauren."
"Ok, then I need to use your phone, NOW!"
Thank goodness Bill only works 10 minutes away and happened to actually be in the office that day. I raced back home without so much as a goodbye, and thankfully found Max still transfixed by Little Bear (yeah, Little Bear, of all shows- who'da thunk it). So I sat there, whimpering with my face pressed up againstthe sliding glass door, waiting for my hero husband to arrive and save the day, all the while cursing that darn Stormy, gourmet poops and all.
It is my pleasure to be once again guest blogging on Poop and Boogies. Today's post is meant to make all you parents out there who may occasionally question what kind of job you are doing, feel a whole lot better.
One morning last week, Max is happily watching NOGGIN, his favorite channel, Luna, our dog, is sniffing her way around the backyard, and I am cleaning up from breakfast before an appointment with a contractor. Our next door neighbors have a very sweet cat named Stormy, who occasionally will come into our backyard and, among other things, do her business. And occasionally, as some dogs are known to do, our lovely beast, Luna, likes to dig up these tasty little treats and, you guessed it, savor Stormy's homemade delicacies, to put it mildly.
Of course, I find this absolutely repugnant, so go out back to stop her and bring her inside, when OUR cat, who is an indoor cat, tries to make a break for it. Impressed with my own speed and agility, I quickly shut the back door before he is able to make his escape.
After reprimanding Luna for her incredibly uncivilized behavior (even for a dog) we make our way back to the door when...
Uh-oh, why is it locked? We never use the door knob lock, we always dead bolt it. Someone must have turned it by accident. No worries, Max is still inside watching TV, I'll just go around front. Nope. Front door is locked. Crap! We started dead bolting the front door since Max can now open it by himself. Ok, think, think, think. Oh, of course, I'll just use the remote garage door opener and go in through the garage! Genius! Thank God the new minivan is unlocked...the.. new.... minivan, that never gets parked in the garage, because there is too much junk in there, so we therefore never bothered to put the remote opener in there. Ok, now I'm sweating it. Wait! The next door neighbors have our key!And they're home! Hallelujah!! Knock on the door-
"We have your key? Umm,ok we'll check." (rifling through some drawers in the next room, there is some urgent whispering that I can't quite make out). Meanwhile, thoughts are racing through my head of what Max could possibly be getting into all by himself back at the home front:
Teetering at the top of our 16 + stepstairwell, doing belly flops off the back of the sofa, unplugging kitchen appliancesand sticking forks in the now vacant outlets (yeah, we're mostly childproofed). My God, my God! MY GOD, WHAT IS TAKING SO LONG??????????
"Uh, sorry, but I think we gave your key back to you , Lauren."
"Ok, then I need to use your phone, NOW!"
Thank goodness Bill only works 10 minutes away and happened to actually be in the office that day. I raced back home without so much as a goodbye, and thankfully found Max still transfixed by Little Bear (yeah, Little Bear, of all shows- who'da thunk it). So I sat there, whimpering with my face pressed up againstthe sliding glass door, waiting for my hero husband to arrive and save the day, all the while cursing that darn Stormy, gourmet poops and all.
Doesn't it suck....
...when you eat your last M&M, totally thinking that there were a couple of more in the bag, when there wasn't, because you so would have savored the last one?
Monday, January 16, 2006
Mr. Sandman
In the past, when Maxfield would wake up in the middle of the night, depending on the type of cry, Lauren and I would decide whether to go to him or not. Most times we would wait it out and he would calm down and fall back to sleep.
Lately Max has been waking up on the wrong side of the clock. 4:00-ish. He is getting older now so it is becoming a bit more difficult to determine what his cries actually mean. We try to let it the crying pass. I hope that he will find his pacifier or Elmo or Murphy the stuffed Monkey and will settle back into the crib and back to sleep. But in the middle of his cries I can’t help but wonder if maybe he is having a nightmare.
I try to fight the urge to go to him, but I always feel bad, that maybe he needs to be comforted. It breaks my heart thinking that maybe he is scared, or he thinks that we abandoned him. When I was young and I would have nightmares I would sleep on my parent’s floor. Just knowing that they were there always made me better.
Max is almost two. At what age are there monsters in closet, or ghosts under the bed?
I would like to thank everyone who has voted in the BoB awards (Best of Blogs). I am not sure how long the voting lasts so if you have not voted please go and do so. The voting is only one portion of the criteria to win. They will also be scoring on content and grammar (I should have listened to Mrs. Dunn my highschool english teacher). There are some great blogs nominated in different categories that you may not have seen before. The site is worth checking out to find new favorites to read.
I will be busy over the next few days, but my wife, Lauren, has agreed to fill in for me with a post or two and I think the Lawn Whisperer has also agreed to fill in for a day.
Lately Max has been waking up on the wrong side of the clock. 4:00-ish. He is getting older now so it is becoming a bit more difficult to determine what his cries actually mean. We try to let it the crying pass. I hope that he will find his pacifier or Elmo or Murphy the stuffed Monkey and will settle back into the crib and back to sleep. But in the middle of his cries I can’t help but wonder if maybe he is having a nightmare.
I try to fight the urge to go to him, but I always feel bad, that maybe he needs to be comforted. It breaks my heart thinking that maybe he is scared, or he thinks that we abandoned him. When I was young and I would have nightmares I would sleep on my parent’s floor. Just knowing that they were there always made me better.
Max is almost two. At what age are there monsters in closet, or ghosts under the bed?
I would like to thank everyone who has voted in the BoB awards (Best of Blogs). I am not sure how long the voting lasts so if you have not voted please go and do so. The voting is only one portion of the criteria to win. They will also be scoring on content and grammar (I should have listened to Mrs. Dunn my highschool english teacher). There are some great blogs nominated in different categories that you may not have seen before. The site is worth checking out to find new favorites to read.
I will be busy over the next few days, but my wife, Lauren, has agreed to fill in for me with a post or two and I think the Lawn Whisperer has also agreed to fill in for a day.
Sunday, January 15, 2006
Saturday, January 14, 2006
Thursday, January 12, 2006
Love is a Battlefield
Occasionally Lauren says things to me like, “Hey Bill? Did you notice that all of your contact lens stuff has put itself away everyday this week.” OR “Bill the Dryer Lint Fairy stopped by and took care of the dryer lint that you let pile up on the dryer.”
Sometimes I am inclined to respond with, “Yeah? Well did YOU notice that my toenail clippings were on the nightstand for only three days and not four?” And I realize that I am not going to win the argument.
Sometimes I am inclined to respond with, “Yeah? Well did YOU notice that my toenail clippings were on the nightstand for only three days and not four?” And I realize that I am not going to win the argument.
Things that go Bump in the day.
Lauren and I went out to Lowes to buy some home protection gear (actually Max protection gear for the house). Max is getting rambunctious lately and likes to just run through the house. Full speed. Head Down. Arms Flailing. He is also tall and his head is at the level of the corner of the kitchen counters. We needed to buy bumper pads for the counters and foam bumpers and gates for the fireplace and steps. (Fireplaces in Florida who would of thunk it?)
The fireplace bumper was $40.00, the gates were like $100 and counter bumpers were $15.00(for four). I did not buy them. I am all for my child’s safety but I just could not see spending that kind of money.
It would be cheaper and easier to by Max a helmet and make some bubble wrap clothing for him when he is running through the house.
The fireplace bumper was $40.00, the gates were like $100 and counter bumpers were $15.00(for four). I did not buy them. I am all for my child’s safety but I just could not see spending that kind of money.
It would be cheaper and easier to by Max a helmet and make some bubble wrap clothing for him when he is running through the house.
Wednesday, January 11, 2006
Is there something wrong.....
...with the fact that my wife looks incredibly sexy in the pajamas that my MOM gave her for Christmas?
Tuesday, January 10, 2006
Flipped
On Sunday we went to Publix to do some grocery shopping. In an effort to get a better parking spot, I cut through some empty spaces and turned to follow the one-way arrows marked on the pavement. I made the turn pretty quickly, as a little silver car was backing out. The silver car had plenty of space, but I know I cut it close. We pulled into a spot and I heard the silver car honk.
I looked up in the rearview and I saw the driver, a girl wearing a Publix apron, stop behind my car and flip me the bird. I was shocked. Not that I did not deserve getting the finger but because the girl was clearly an employee of the store, and I recognized her.
In the store I saw one of the other employees looking over a work schedule and I asked him who was it that just got off shift. He told me Courtney. I thanked him and I left it at that.
The next day I had to run back to Publix to pick up some diapers. Who was the girl bagging the groceries? Courtney. I waited until no one could overhear and I asked her, “Do you drive a silver car?”
“Uhmmm. Yes.” She said.
“Yesterday, as I pulled in, you gave me the finger. Now I know I kind of deserved it, but didn’t you think that I might recognize you. I mean this is the place you work.”
I could see the flush of embarrassment creep up her neck and into her face. “I’m sorry.” She responded.
I half chuckled. “Don’t worry about. I am not going to say anything to your boss. I know I was wrong the way I pulled into the lot. Are we even now?”
She just nodded.
Part of me feels bad for saying something to her but another part feels great because it is not often that a person knows who flipped them off.
By the way there is a new MooneyAngelo posted.
I looked up in the rearview and I saw the driver, a girl wearing a Publix apron, stop behind my car and flip me the bird. I was shocked. Not that I did not deserve getting the finger but because the girl was clearly an employee of the store, and I recognized her.
In the store I saw one of the other employees looking over a work schedule and I asked him who was it that just got off shift. He told me Courtney. I thanked him and I left it at that.
The next day I had to run back to Publix to pick up some diapers. Who was the girl bagging the groceries? Courtney. I waited until no one could overhear and I asked her, “Do you drive a silver car?”
“Uhmmm. Yes.” She said.
“Yesterday, as I pulled in, you gave me the finger. Now I know I kind of deserved it, but didn’t you think that I might recognize you. I mean this is the place you work.”
I could see the flush of embarrassment creep up her neck and into her face. “I’m sorry.” She responded.
I half chuckled. “Don’t worry about. I am not going to say anything to your boss. I know I was wrong the way I pulled into the lot. Are we even now?”
She just nodded.
Part of me feels bad for saying something to her but another part feels great because it is not often that a person knows who flipped them off.
By the way there is a new MooneyAngelo posted.
Monday, January 09, 2006
Not the Same
The type of music that I listen to varies on my mood and I did not bring much music into my marriage. My preferences are, Counting Crows, Peter Gabriel, Billy Joel, Dire Straits, the Kinks as well as other random bands. I maybe had a total of 20 CDs when I met Lauren.
When I started dating Lauren she had a whole mix of music she listened to. Some I knew, but did not appreciate, like James Brown, Elvis, Tori Amos and Sting. But she also introduced me to bands and singers I never even heard of like Morphine, Ben Folds, Ottmar Leibert, and Royal Crown Revue. She brought over 150 CDs into our marriage. Over the years I have come to truly appreciate her taste in music and lyrics and have become a big fan of her music selection.
When I hit the age of 30 I started getting into what the “Kids these days” were into, Kid Rock, Eminem, Destiny’s Child (yes I am admitting that I own a Destiny Child’s CD), the Black Eyed Peas as well as a bunch of country music. Lauren, being the supportive wife that she is, has developed a liking to some of this music as well.
We are now exposing Maxfield to as much music as we can. Max likes music. He likes Laurie Berkner and the Schwartzmen Quartet from one of his favorite shows Jack’s Big Music Show. But there are visuals that go along with this music.
Lately we are experiencing issues with Max’s tastes when there are no visuals. We always play CD’s in the car and Max will let us know when he wants the music changed, which is all the time. He does not like slow songs. He whines when a mid-tempo song is being played. You see he is a bit of a snob. Max likes only ONE song. Ben Folds’ “Not The Same” from Rockin’ the Suburbs and Ben Folds Live. He rocks out to it in his car seat.
I don’t know if I should feel bad letting him listen to a song about a guy who trips out on acid and becomes born again.
When I started dating Lauren she had a whole mix of music she listened to. Some I knew, but did not appreciate, like James Brown, Elvis, Tori Amos and Sting. But she also introduced me to bands and singers I never even heard of like Morphine, Ben Folds, Ottmar Leibert, and Royal Crown Revue. She brought over 150 CDs into our marriage. Over the years I have come to truly appreciate her taste in music and lyrics and have become a big fan of her music selection.
When I hit the age of 30 I started getting into what the “Kids these days” were into, Kid Rock, Eminem, Destiny’s Child (yes I am admitting that I own a Destiny Child’s CD), the Black Eyed Peas as well as a bunch of country music. Lauren, being the supportive wife that she is, has developed a liking to some of this music as well.
We are now exposing Maxfield to as much music as we can. Max likes music. He likes Laurie Berkner and the Schwartzmen Quartet from one of his favorite shows Jack’s Big Music Show. But there are visuals that go along with this music.
Lately we are experiencing issues with Max’s tastes when there are no visuals. We always play CD’s in the car and Max will let us know when he wants the music changed, which is all the time. He does not like slow songs. He whines when a mid-tempo song is being played. You see he is a bit of a snob. Max likes only ONE song. Ben Folds’ “Not The Same” from Rockin’ the Suburbs and Ben Folds Live. He rocks out to it in his car seat.
I don’t know if I should feel bad letting him listen to a song about a guy who trips out on acid and becomes born again.
Sunday, January 08, 2006
Cold Snap
There is a little bit of a cold snap happening here in Orlando. Not that I am complaining but I threw away my ice scraper when I moved down here.
Saturday, January 07, 2006
Dinner Man
Max has now decided to wear his bib backwards and he likes to put bowls on his head. I think this is the early stage of dressing up like a superhero.
Thursday, January 05, 2006
Bill, This is Bill.
Many thoughts, conversations, and situations hit me on a daily basis in which I think,“I could blog about that.” Some of the stories I have no problem sitting down and typing out from my mental notes. But more often than not my mental pen runs out of mental ink and I cannot, for the life of me, remember what I wanted to post.
In an effort to prevent the serious memory loss, Lauren bought me a mini-recorder so I can document the stories for later recall. Sometimes when the recorder is not around I will call my voice mail, or the answering machine and leave a message for myself to remind myself about what happened.
When I do talk into my recorder or I leave myself a voicemail I always say “Seeya” or “Goodbye” to myself. It goes like this, "Hey don't forget to write about the tree service guy. Seeya." or "Umm, Hey. Remember about our trip to Lowes for the bumper things. Bye."
Lauren finds this to be extremely funny that I greet myself and say goodbye to myself.
In an effort to prevent the serious memory loss, Lauren bought me a mini-recorder so I can document the stories for later recall. Sometimes when the recorder is not around I will call my voice mail, or the answering machine and leave a message for myself to remind myself about what happened.
When I do talk into my recorder or I leave myself a voicemail I always say “Seeya” or “Goodbye” to myself. It goes like this, "Hey don't forget to write about the tree service guy. Seeya." or "Umm, Hey. Remember about our trip to Lowes for the bumper things. Bye."
Lauren finds this to be extremely funny that I greet myself and say goodbye to myself.
Wednesday, January 04, 2006
I am not a good "bad cop"
While I was up in Pennsylvania, my father in-law took his car into the dealer for an oil change. When they brought his car out there was a good size dent in the front bumper that was not there when he brought it in. The car was not damaged enough that he could not drive it but I went over to pick him up in case they were going to fix it and he would need a ride. The dealer’s mechanics claim they did not do the damage.
When I got there my father in-law was pretty ticked and was trying to figure out how they could have dented the front bumper. I went to talk to the General Manager to find out what he could do to repair the car. He was a nice enough guy but he kind of blew off my father-in law as well as myself. I was now getting kind of pissed. I realized that they would not admit to the damage unless one us got tough. I figured we would do the whole “good cop/bad-cop” routine. Since I lived out of town I would be the bad cop.
I tried to be tough. I asked all the important questions. I demanded answers. I wanted to know what bay door the car was serviced in. Who drove it? Where did they take it? I would not take “No” for an answer. I was arguing with the manager for 20 minutes or so and he would not take me seriously. I couldn't figure out why. I talked to the service manager, the body shop manager, and the guy who drove the car. None of them, not one, took me seriously. We were waiting to talk to someone else when I realized I was wearing a bright yellow sweatshirt that I just got for Christmas. No wonder they treated me the way they did. I looked like Big Bird. How can a guy look tough when he is wearing canary yellow?
We decided it was best to call the police to file a report for the insurance company. While we were waiting (about a half hour or so) I went into the GM’s office to try to get him to admit to the mistake. I was standing in front of his desk as he sat there listening to me, nodding, smiling, giving me the old “I understand, but….”, but still he would not budge in his position. I was frustrated.
My father in law was outside waiting for the police and I went into the bathroom. It was in the men’s room that I realized WHY no one was taking me seriously.
My fly was down.
It was down the whole time I was stating our case to all the managers. Big Bird and little bird making an argument.
Needless to say I lost all energy to discuss the matter anymore. I was too embarrassed.
When I got there my father in-law was pretty ticked and was trying to figure out how they could have dented the front bumper. I went to talk to the General Manager to find out what he could do to repair the car. He was a nice enough guy but he kind of blew off my father-in law as well as myself. I was now getting kind of pissed. I realized that they would not admit to the damage unless one us got tough. I figured we would do the whole “good cop/bad-cop” routine. Since I lived out of town I would be the bad cop.
I tried to be tough. I asked all the important questions. I demanded answers. I wanted to know what bay door the car was serviced in. Who drove it? Where did they take it? I would not take “No” for an answer. I was arguing with the manager for 20 minutes or so and he would not take me seriously. I couldn't figure out why. I talked to the service manager, the body shop manager, and the guy who drove the car. None of them, not one, took me seriously. We were waiting to talk to someone else when I realized I was wearing a bright yellow sweatshirt that I just got for Christmas. No wonder they treated me the way they did. I looked like Big Bird. How can a guy look tough when he is wearing canary yellow?
We decided it was best to call the police to file a report for the insurance company. While we were waiting (about a half hour or so) I went into the GM’s office to try to get him to admit to the mistake. I was standing in front of his desk as he sat there listening to me, nodding, smiling, giving me the old “I understand, but….”, but still he would not budge in his position. I was frustrated.
My father in law was outside waiting for the police and I went into the bathroom. It was in the men’s room that I realized WHY no one was taking me seriously.
My fly was down.
It was down the whole time I was stating our case to all the managers. Big Bird and little bird making an argument.
Needless to say I lost all energy to discuss the matter anymore. I was too embarrassed.
Tuesday, January 03, 2006
Mocking See Mocking Do
Being from a big family, I tend to eat my dinner really fast. I think this is some type of psychological thing that I do in an effort to get any seconds that may be available. So I usually finish my dinner about 15 minutes before Lauren and Maxfield. When I am done I usually get up and start the dishes. I said it before and I will say it again my wife thinks a man doing dishes is sexy.
The other night I am doing the dishes and Max and Lauren are sitting at the table and I am complaining about something. I don't remember what, but it was probably about the garbage disposal or some other dish doing thing that frustrates me. So I am griping and Lauren decides to make fun of me. She mumbles under her breath. Saying something to the effect of "Great googlymoogly", but it sounded like a grumble. Basically she was saying I am some type of curmudgeon.
Try saying "great googlymoogly" without moving your lips or mouth or teeth. Did
you try it? That's what it sounded like. Within seconds of her making the grumble noise, Maxfield makes the exact grumble noise. They both look at me and they both laugh.
My son who is 22 months old is already mocking me. I thought that was not supposed to happen for at least another 13 years.
The other night I am doing the dishes and Max and Lauren are sitting at the table and I am complaining about something. I don't remember what, but it was probably about the garbage disposal or some other dish doing thing that frustrates me. So I am griping and Lauren decides to make fun of me. She mumbles under her breath. Saying something to the effect of "Great googlymoogly", but it sounded like a grumble. Basically she was saying I am some type of curmudgeon.
Try saying "great googlymoogly" without moving your lips or mouth or teeth. Did
you try it? That's what it sounded like. Within seconds of her making the grumble noise, Maxfield makes the exact grumble noise. They both look at me and they both laugh.
My son who is 22 months old is already mocking me. I thought that was not supposed to happen for at least another 13 years.
Melts In Your Mouth.
Lauren and I had one of those serious parenting discussions last night. The ones where we are not sure of what the outcome of our decisions will be. This is how the conversation went.
Lauren: If he eats his dinner I will give him hmmmndmsnnh.
Bill: What?
Lauren: Hmmmmndmsnnh!
Bill: What is Hmmmmndmsnnh?
Lauren: (Whispering) M&Ms.
Bill: Why didn’t you just say it? Oh. He knows what they are?
Lauren: After the holidays he sure knows. He was eating mouthfuls at your mom’s house.
Bill: Oh. That’s a hard.
Lauren: What is?
Bill: Hmmmmndmsnnh. (whispering) M&Ms. I mean to spell. Like we spell B.a.t.h. or w.a.l.k. How would you spell M&M’s? If you spell it, you are saying it. I mean we could spell it like Eminem. (Slim Shady) but that is too difficult. This is a tough one.
Lauren: If he eats his dinner I will give him hmmmndmsnnh.
Bill: What?
Lauren: Hmmmmndmsnnh!
Bill: What is Hmmmmndmsnnh?
Lauren: (Whispering) M&Ms.
Bill: Why didn’t you just say it? Oh. He knows what they are?
Lauren: After the holidays he sure knows. He was eating mouthfuls at your mom’s house.
Bill: Oh. That’s a hard.
Lauren: What is?
Bill: Hmmmmndmsnnh. (whispering) M&Ms. I mean to spell. Like we spell B.a.t.h. or w.a.l.k. How would you spell M&M’s? If you spell it, you are saying it. I mean we could spell it like Eminem. (Slim Shady) but that is too difficult. This is a tough one.
Monday, January 02, 2006
I will not write about it again...after this one.
I have written about this before, twice actually, but I have to write about it again due to the total strangeness of the phenomena. I promise not to write about again after today.
Yesterday Maxfield pooped at about 8:30 am. Okay all kids poop, no big deal. I changed his diaper and we went on with our day. Part of the day we had to go to Books-A-Million to return a Christmas gift. We arrived at the bookstore at about 10:30am and Lauren and Max went to the Thomas the Train section so Max could play while I was browsing.
When I met up with them I walked up to Max and I could smell that he soiled his diaper again. I looked at Lauren in disbelief, “He pooped. I can’t believe it.”
Lauren chuckled and said, “Are you serious? He just went this morning.”
Lauren took him to the restroom to change him I just stood there shaking my head.
Later in the evening, about 5:30, we went to Barnes and Noble to redeem some gift cards that we received. We were there 20 minutes when, yep, he went again. He was playing with the Thomas Train Set at Barnes and Noble as well.
"I can't believe he went again. This is really weird." I mouthed silently to Lauren so other patrons would not think we were loony discussing our kids crapping habits in the kids section.
Not only am I amazed that the kid pooped three times in one day but also he did his business twice in the same day in two different bookstores. I believe I need to start documenting this for a scientific study. Is it the bookstore? Is it Thomas? What is it about being surrounded by books that makes him go?
Did they ever cover this on the X-files?
Yesterday Maxfield pooped at about 8:30 am. Okay all kids poop, no big deal. I changed his diaper and we went on with our day. Part of the day we had to go to Books-A-Million to return a Christmas gift. We arrived at the bookstore at about 10:30am and Lauren and Max went to the Thomas the Train section so Max could play while I was browsing.
When I met up with them I walked up to Max and I could smell that he soiled his diaper again. I looked at Lauren in disbelief, “He pooped. I can’t believe it.”
Lauren chuckled and said, “Are you serious? He just went this morning.”
Lauren took him to the restroom to change him I just stood there shaking my head.
Later in the evening, about 5:30, we went to Barnes and Noble to redeem some gift cards that we received. We were there 20 minutes when, yep, he went again. He was playing with the Thomas Train Set at Barnes and Noble as well.
"I can't believe he went again. This is really weird." I mouthed silently to Lauren so other patrons would not think we were loony discussing our kids crapping habits in the kids section.
Not only am I amazed that the kid pooped three times in one day but also he did his business twice in the same day in two different bookstores. I believe I need to start documenting this for a scientific study. Is it the bookstore? Is it Thomas? What is it about being surrounded by books that makes him go?
Did they ever cover this on the X-files?
Saturday, December 31, 2005
Vacation By Numbers
2 -Weeks is the amount of time I spent up in Pennsylvania visiting family and friends.
12- hours is how long it took to get from Orlando Florida to Washington DC.
5- Hours is how long it took to get from Washington DC to Philadelphia. It should only take 3 hours. I hate Alexandria VA Traffic as well as anything called "Beltway".
17- hours of "Elmo's World" That we listened to on the DVD player to occupy Max. (Neh Neh Neh NEH, Neh Neh Neh NEH Elmo's loves his goldfish. His crayons too......)
140- Dollars worth of Gas to fill the Van to make the trip.
1017- Miles driven from my house in Orlando to Lauren's parent's house.
11- The Number of roads traveled in that 1017 miles. Seriously there are only 11 roads between my house in Florida and Lauren's Parent's house in PA. One of the roads just happens to be I-95.
90-Miles per hour was the average speed we traveled on our way up. (Until we hit Alexandria that son of a bitch town)
4- Number of Grandparents that were happy to see Max.
0- Number of Max's grandparents that were happy to see either Lauren or myself.
40-degrees Fahrenheit was the average temperature in Philadelphia PA.
20- about the number of Aunts and Uncles Max got to visit with.
3- The total number of "takes" it took LawnWhisperer, Jim and myself to stop laughing while making our semi annual "Make Fun of our Siblings" Holiday Video. (By the way Sharon if you are reading this, it was all Jim and John's ideas. Especially the parts where we make fun of you, my favorite sister.)
3- The number of Balloons Santa got Max for Christmas. Max loves balloons. And since the dollar store where Santa gets his Balloons had a limited supply, the one with Elmo on it had "Happy Birthday" printed on it. But we wrote "Jesus" on the bottom so it was okay.
3- The number of Dogs at my In laws house. Their two and our one.
103- The number of times the dogs were yelled at with phrases like "Be Quiet! You'll wake Maxfield." Or "Luna stop licking Jake." Or "Luna, Jake, Skeeter! Stop Begging for food."
25- Times I was accidentally locked out of my in-laws house because I always forgot to unlock the door when I left.
1- Flat tire on the Kia Mini Van during the whole trip.
6- Trains my Dad had working in his basement when we arrived for the holiday.
2- Trains that were working in my Dad's basement when we ready to head home.
1- Train that Max may be responsible for breaking. Maybe. There were lots of kids playing with the trains.
Gazillion- The number I would equate with how much fun we had.
9- Hours it took to get from PA to Florence SC where we stayed overnight. Why 9 hours? Because of Alexandria VA and DC traffic. Those cities suck for traffic.
2 -Roast beef sandwiches made for me by my mother inlaw.
1- Ham sandwich made for Lauren by my mother in law.
0- is the number of sandwiches Jesus got on this trip.
1- the Number of trucks we saw with plastic testicles hanging from the back that Lauren had to take a picture of.
75- degrees Fahrenheit was the temperature when we got back to Florida at 2pm on 12/31/05.
We had a really fun time over the vacation. Max got to see all his cousin's His Godmother Bridget and his Godfather Mr. Miyagi. Both sets of grandparents numerous times and he had a wonderful Christmas Morning. I am trying to post some of the pictures from the trip.
Max sporting a new Jacket. Notice the "Sear's catalogue-esque" pose.
It was a long ride.
12- hours is how long it took to get from Orlando Florida to Washington DC.
5- Hours is how long it took to get from Washington DC to Philadelphia. It should only take 3 hours. I hate Alexandria VA Traffic as well as anything called "Beltway".
17- hours of "Elmo's World" That we listened to on the DVD player to occupy Max. (Neh Neh Neh NEH, Neh Neh Neh NEH Elmo's loves his goldfish. His crayons too......)
140- Dollars worth of Gas to fill the Van to make the trip.
1017- Miles driven from my house in Orlando to Lauren's parent's house.
11- The Number of roads traveled in that 1017 miles. Seriously there are only 11 roads between my house in Florida and Lauren's Parent's house in PA. One of the roads just happens to be I-95.
90-Miles per hour was the average speed we traveled on our way up. (Until we hit Alexandria that son of a bitch town)
4- Number of Grandparents that were happy to see Max.
0- Number of Max's grandparents that were happy to see either Lauren or myself.
40-degrees Fahrenheit was the average temperature in Philadelphia PA.
20- about the number of Aunts and Uncles Max got to visit with.
3- The total number of "takes" it took LawnWhisperer, Jim and myself to stop laughing while making our semi annual "Make Fun of our Siblings" Holiday Video. (By the way Sharon if you are reading this, it was all Jim and John's ideas. Especially the parts where we make fun of you, my favorite sister.)
3- The number of Balloons Santa got Max for Christmas. Max loves balloons. And since the dollar store where Santa gets his Balloons had a limited supply, the one with Elmo on it had "Happy Birthday" printed on it. But we wrote "Jesus" on the bottom so it was okay.
3- The number of Dogs at my In laws house. Their two and our one.
103- The number of times the dogs were yelled at with phrases like "Be Quiet! You'll wake Maxfield." Or "Luna stop licking Jake." Or "Luna, Jake, Skeeter! Stop Begging for food."
25- Times I was accidentally locked out of my in-laws house because I always forgot to unlock the door when I left.
1- Flat tire on the Kia Mini Van during the whole trip.
6- Trains my Dad had working in his basement when we arrived for the holiday.
2- Trains that were working in my Dad's basement when we ready to head home.
1- Train that Max may be responsible for breaking. Maybe. There were lots of kids playing with the trains.
Gazillion- The number I would equate with how much fun we had.
9- Hours it took to get from PA to Florence SC where we stayed overnight. Why 9 hours? Because of Alexandria VA and DC traffic. Those cities suck for traffic.
2 -Roast beef sandwiches made for me by my mother inlaw.
1- Ham sandwich made for Lauren by my mother in law.
0- is the number of sandwiches Jesus got on this trip.
1- the Number of trucks we saw with plastic testicles hanging from the back that Lauren had to take a picture of.
75- degrees Fahrenheit was the temperature when we got back to Florida at 2pm on 12/31/05.
We had a really fun time over the vacation. Max got to see all his cousin's His Godmother Bridget and his Godfather Mr. Miyagi. Both sets of grandparents numerous times and he had a wonderful Christmas Morning. I am trying to post some of the pictures from the trip.
Max sporting a new Jacket. Notice the "Sear's catalogue-esque" pose.
It was a long ride.
You know you are in the South, when you see a Quad on a trailer attached to a pick-up truck, the Dixie flag and what appears to be testicles hanging from the Quad.
I hope everyone has/had a safe and happy New Year's Eve.
Thursday, December 29, 2005
Happy Anniversary
I forgot to say Happy Anniversary to my parents. The inspiration for Poop and Boogies were maried 42 years ago on December 28th.
"Oh what a night. Late December back in 63."
Happy Anniversary Mom and Dad. Sorry It was a day late.
"Oh what a night. Late December back in 63."
Happy Anniversary Mom and Dad. Sorry It was a day late.
Wednesday, December 28, 2005
Doing Good
It is nice to know that Poop and Boogies is responsible for some Good in the world.
Read this post.
And this was the comment that the Lawn Whisperer left.
"lawnwhisperer said...
You got a note in your lunch?!!?"
Well, I received a phone call from the Lawn Whisperer and he said, "Guess what I got for Christmas. I got a lunch box from Mom with a note in it that says I love You."
I swear I could hear through the phone his heart growing much like the Grinch at the end of the original The Grinch Who Stole Christmas.
Read this post.
And this was the comment that the Lawn Whisperer left.
"lawnwhisperer said...
You got a note in your lunch?!!?"
Well, I received a phone call from the Lawn Whisperer and he said, "Guess what I got for Christmas. I got a lunch box from Mom with a note in it that says I love You."
I swear I could hear through the phone his heart growing much like the Grinch at the end of the original The Grinch Who Stole Christmas.
Tuesday, December 27, 2005
Pillow Talk
I am not sure what year my Godmother, Aunt Michelle, started this tradition, but I think I was maybe 14 or 15 when she gave me a pillow for Christmas. A nice, regular bed pillow.
Now you may find this weird or a strange holiday gift to receive but every year since then She would get me a new pillow. I think it is the perfect gift. Having a new pillow to sleep on every year is not something that I think is on the forefront of everyone’s mind to buy for your self. So receiving one every year at Christmas was such an excellent idea. She never really had to think about what to get me. No extensive shopping, no going to different stores. A pillow is all I wanted and it is what she would get me. I love getting a new pillow every year.
Lauren thought this was such a great idea. She was happy to receive the new pillows every year as well. We decided that this year we would continue the tradition that Aunt Michele started by getting Max’s Godparent’s Pillows for Christmas. Everyone could use a new pillow at least once a year. So if you ever get stuck trying to think about what to get someone for a Christmas gift or a birthday gift, think of Aunt Michele, and get them a pillow.
It is the gift that keeps on giving all year long.
Now you may find this weird or a strange holiday gift to receive but every year since then She would get me a new pillow. I think it is the perfect gift. Having a new pillow to sleep on every year is not something that I think is on the forefront of everyone’s mind to buy for your self. So receiving one every year at Christmas was such an excellent idea. She never really had to think about what to get me. No extensive shopping, no going to different stores. A pillow is all I wanted and it is what she would get me. I love getting a new pillow every year.
Lauren thought this was such a great idea. She was happy to receive the new pillows every year as well. We decided that this year we would continue the tradition that Aunt Michele started by getting Max’s Godparent’s Pillows for Christmas. Everyone could use a new pillow at least once a year. So if you ever get stuck trying to think about what to get someone for a Christmas gift or a birthday gift, think of Aunt Michele, and get them a pillow.
It is the gift that keeps on giving all year long.
Saturday, December 24, 2005
Santa Wore Chuck Taylor's
I want to thank the Lawn Whisperer for guest blogging for me for the past week. Lauren, Max, Luna the dog and I traveled to Pennsylvania for the holidays. So this is a post from PA.
Did you know that between 1976 and 1980 Santa Clause wore Chuck Taylor's Converse All-Star sneakers? I swear this is true because during those years, when I woke up and ran downstairs on Christmas morning, there were always white footprints going from the tree to front door, that had the exact same tread as Chucks.
I knew this because my dad had two pairs of Chuck Taylor's Converese All-Star Hightops. A black pair and a white pair so I knew those diamond shaped soles anywhere. I always thought it was cool that Santa and my dad wore the same type of shoe.
I never could figure out why the footprints always looked like flour, but I guess it was the magic of Santa.
Did you know that between 1976 and 1980 Santa Clause wore Chuck Taylor's Converse All-Star sneakers? I swear this is true because during those years, when I woke up and ran downstairs on Christmas morning, there were always white footprints going from the tree to front door, that had the exact same tread as Chucks.
I knew this because my dad had two pairs of Chuck Taylor's Converese All-Star Hightops. A black pair and a white pair so I knew those diamond shaped soles anywhere. I always thought it was cool that Santa and my dad wore the same type of shoe.
I never could figure out why the footprints always looked like flour, but I guess it was the magic of Santa.
Thursday, December 22, 2005
HOT! by Lawn Whisperer
Guest blogger William's brother the Lawn Whisperer.
Too many times I write the negative side of Mrs. Whisperer. I feel a tremendous need to let others know of silly things that make me laugh. When the Cupboard is empty, I have to tell people of my plight. When the Hamper is so full that it takes three people to carry it to the washing machine, I have to let others know. But for one time I want to tell you blogger people that I find my wife to be Sizzling Hot. When all else gets nutty, I fall back on the fact that she is the hottest chick on the planet.
The First day I saw my wife, I told the guy I was with “I’m going to marry that chick.”
I still remember the outfit she was wearing, she was freaking blazing.
Many, many rejections ensued. Finally she came with me to my brothers wedding. She was absolutely smoking.
We got married in August; it was 100 degrees in a church with no AC. My wife made it feel like it was 65 degrees. She was so hot, that she cooled down the air around her.
She had help in raising our daughter, but she was a single mother for half of that time. She raised an absolute angel of a kid, and I find the strength, she needed for that, to be hot.
She puts up with me, and she gets mad at me, but she is hot when she is angry.
She looks 20 times hotter today, than she did when I first saw her. That makes her 20X freaking blazing.
The absolute hottest I ever saw her was just the other day. She was sitting on the couch reading a book to my five and four year old. She was wearing jeans and a sweatshirt, but she was doing what mothers do, she was raising our kids, and that I find to be the hottest thing in the world.
So, the laundry and the shopping can wait. My wife is busy being hot.
Too many times I write the negative side of Mrs. Whisperer. I feel a tremendous need to let others know of silly things that make me laugh. When the Cupboard is empty, I have to tell people of my plight. When the Hamper is so full that it takes three people to carry it to the washing machine, I have to let others know. But for one time I want to tell you blogger people that I find my wife to be Sizzling Hot. When all else gets nutty, I fall back on the fact that she is the hottest chick on the planet.
The First day I saw my wife, I told the guy I was with “I’m going to marry that chick.”
I still remember the outfit she was wearing, she was freaking blazing.
Many, many rejections ensued. Finally she came with me to my brothers wedding. She was absolutely smoking.
We got married in August; it was 100 degrees in a church with no AC. My wife made it feel like it was 65 degrees. She was so hot, that she cooled down the air around her.
She had help in raising our daughter, but she was a single mother for half of that time. She raised an absolute angel of a kid, and I find the strength, she needed for that, to be hot.
She puts up with me, and she gets mad at me, but she is hot when she is angry.
She looks 20 times hotter today, than she did when I first saw her. That makes her 20X freaking blazing.
The absolute hottest I ever saw her was just the other day. She was sitting on the couch reading a book to my five and four year old. She was wearing jeans and a sweatshirt, but she was doing what mothers do, she was raising our kids, and that I find to be the hottest thing in the world.
So, the laundry and the shopping can wait. My wife is busy being hot.
Tuesday, December 20, 2005
Can I get a sticker?
Guest blogging by The Lawn Whisperer (AKA The Keystone).
My wife runs my little guys on the Sticker System. We have these little charts on the fridge, one for Luke, one for Kyle. When they do something good, or behave for a certain event, they get a sticker added to the chart. Once they hit ten stickers, they get to get a toy.
There are a ton of breaches in this system, cracks that I for one cannot accept. If the Terrible Twosome goes into the playroom for five minutes, every toy is dumped on the floor. They dump every bin out to find what they are looking for. The room is turned upside down. When they are done playing, they leave the room in shambles. Now, if they clean up that room, they get a sicker. So they get a sticker for cleaning up the mess that they made. I don’t get it. So it got me to thinking. I would like to be on the sticker system. It’s a no-brainer. Once I get ten stickers, I get a prize. The only prize I want is some action. Ten stickers…I get lucky that night.
Working the system under the same parameters that the kids get, I should get lucky at least twice a week. If I hang a picture on the wall and it is crooked, when I fix it, I should get a sticker. When I go to work everyday, I should get a sticker. I should also get a sticker for coming home from work. Granted, these are things that I do everyday, but again, the system has flaws. I put the trash out twice a week, two stickers. I bring the cans back twice a week, two more stickers. I clean up the mess that I make in the kitchen that is another sticker. By my estimation, I should be getting 20 stickers a week, without even trying. That means I should be getting some action twice a week, without even trying. Anything I do over and above the normal should be a bonus sticker. Bonus stickers equals’ bonus action, right? I am only trying to operate under the same rules and regulations set forth by Mrs. Whisperer. Hey, it is her system, and I am only asking to be a part of it.
My wife runs my little guys on the Sticker System. We have these little charts on the fridge, one for Luke, one for Kyle. When they do something good, or behave for a certain event, they get a sticker added to the chart. Once they hit ten stickers, they get to get a toy.
There are a ton of breaches in this system, cracks that I for one cannot accept. If the Terrible Twosome goes into the playroom for five minutes, every toy is dumped on the floor. They dump every bin out to find what they are looking for. The room is turned upside down. When they are done playing, they leave the room in shambles. Now, if they clean up that room, they get a sicker. So they get a sticker for cleaning up the mess that they made. I don’t get it. So it got me to thinking. I would like to be on the sticker system. It’s a no-brainer. Once I get ten stickers, I get a prize. The only prize I want is some action. Ten stickers…I get lucky that night.
Working the system under the same parameters that the kids get, I should get lucky at least twice a week. If I hang a picture on the wall and it is crooked, when I fix it, I should get a sticker. When I go to work everyday, I should get a sticker. I should also get a sticker for coming home from work. Granted, these are things that I do everyday, but again, the system has flaws. I put the trash out twice a week, two stickers. I bring the cans back twice a week, two more stickers. I clean up the mess that I make in the kitchen that is another sticker. By my estimation, I should be getting 20 stickers a week, without even trying. That means I should be getting some action twice a week, without even trying. Anything I do over and above the normal should be a bonus sticker. Bonus stickers equals’ bonus action, right? I am only trying to operate under the same rules and regulations set forth by Mrs. Whisperer. Hey, it is her system, and I am only asking to be a part of it.
Monday, December 19, 2005
The Key Stone
William is on vacation. Guest Post by the Lawn Whisperer
I have lived the better part of the past 30 years as the poor deprived middle child. I have suffered through self-proclaimed neglect. I have been forgotten, misplaced, left, and pretty much ignored. Why, because I am the middle child of nine. Clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right, here I am, stuck in the middle with you. So I have lived with this burden, and have done so with great fanfare, and complaining. I let everyone know of my plight. I beg the world to pay attention to me. I plead with anyone that will listen (and there are not many that will) to please hear me out. But now, I am changing my tune. I have had an epiphany. Well, actually, my mother has had an epiphany.
You see my mom has come clean. She has recently told me the truth about my neglect. That’s right ladies and gentlemen; the woman who cooked up many a meal that consisted of poop and boogies has spoken the truth. Momma Poop and Boogies has decided that it was time for me to know the truth. She shouted, “ You want the truth? You can’t handle the truth!!!” No, no, no, I’m sorry, that was Jack from A Few Good Men. My mom was much nicer about it.
She told me that it is common in large families that the oldest child, and the youngest child are the ones that keep the family together. They are the ones that make sure that all stays good, and everyone sticks together through life. She said that is the case in most normal families. She then said, “Our family is not normal.” This is where it got interesting. My mom told me that I am the centerpiece to the family. That’s right, me. The Lawnwhisperer. She said that I was much like the middle stone in the great arches that have been constructed. She said that I am the Keystone. If you take the middle stone out of and arch, the rest of them fall, and the arch crumbles. I am the stone that holds up all of the weight. The Middle stone. The Keystone. She told me that I am the one holding the family together.
Now, I know that she told me this, just to make me stop making negative comments on Bill’s Blog. She reads them, and scolds me. I know she is just trying to make me feel better, but I have chosen to run with this theory. I, the Lawnwhisperer, am the Keystone to the Poop and Boogies family. I am very important. I would like to keep writing to you folks now, but I have other things to do. I must go, and keep the family together. There is a lot riding on my shoulders. I will try to check in from time to time, but I have a family to save.
Signing off,
The Artist Formerly Known as the LawnWhisperer
Now Known as the Keystone.
I have lived the better part of the past 30 years as the poor deprived middle child. I have suffered through self-proclaimed neglect. I have been forgotten, misplaced, left, and pretty much ignored. Why, because I am the middle child of nine. Clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right, here I am, stuck in the middle with you. So I have lived with this burden, and have done so with great fanfare, and complaining. I let everyone know of my plight. I beg the world to pay attention to me. I plead with anyone that will listen (and there are not many that will) to please hear me out. But now, I am changing my tune. I have had an epiphany. Well, actually, my mother has had an epiphany.
You see my mom has come clean. She has recently told me the truth about my neglect. That’s right ladies and gentlemen; the woman who cooked up many a meal that consisted of poop and boogies has spoken the truth. Momma Poop and Boogies has decided that it was time for me to know the truth. She shouted, “ You want the truth? You can’t handle the truth!!!” No, no, no, I’m sorry, that was Jack from A Few Good Men. My mom was much nicer about it.
She told me that it is common in large families that the oldest child, and the youngest child are the ones that keep the family together. They are the ones that make sure that all stays good, and everyone sticks together through life. She said that is the case in most normal families. She then said, “Our family is not normal.” This is where it got interesting. My mom told me that I am the centerpiece to the family. That’s right, me. The Lawnwhisperer. She said that I was much like the middle stone in the great arches that have been constructed. She said that I am the Keystone. If you take the middle stone out of and arch, the rest of them fall, and the arch crumbles. I am the stone that holds up all of the weight. The Middle stone. The Keystone. She told me that I am the one holding the family together.
Now, I know that she told me this, just to make me stop making negative comments on Bill’s Blog. She reads them, and scolds me. I know she is just trying to make me feel better, but I have chosen to run with this theory. I, the Lawnwhisperer, am the Keystone to the Poop and Boogies family. I am very important. I would like to keep writing to you folks now, but I have other things to do. I must go, and keep the family together. There is a lot riding on my shoulders. I will try to check in from time to time, but I have a family to save.
Signing off,
The Artist Formerly Known as the LawnWhisperer
Now Known as the Keystone.
Sunday, December 18, 2005
Coming Attractions
While I am away for a few days the Lawn Whisperer will be guest posting in Poop and Boogies.
You can find some of his previous posts here , here and here.
Here is what people are saying about the Lawn Whisperer.
Grace said "I love Lawn Whisperer"
Ozmyndius commented about one of Lawn Whisperer's guset posts "That's got to be one of the funniest things I have ever read!."
Kristine from Random and Odd said "William couldn't have picked a better guest blogger.
Eclectic said "likes me some lawn whispering"
Pssssssstt. The Lawn Whisperer, coming soon to a blog near you.
You can find some of his previous posts here , here and here.
Here is what people are saying about the Lawn Whisperer.
Grace said "I love Lawn Whisperer"
Ozmyndius commented about one of Lawn Whisperer's guset posts "That's got to be one of the funniest things I have ever read!."
Kristine from Random and Odd said "William couldn't have picked a better guest blogger.
Eclectic said "likes me some lawn whispering"
Pssssssstt. The Lawn Whisperer, coming soon to a blog near you.
Thursday, December 15, 2005
Christmas Card
This was the Christmas card we sent to family and friends. I wanted to wait to post it to make sure the people we sent it to received it. I will be on the road for a few days and may have a guest blogger post a story or two.
Psssssst.......The Lawn Whisperer is coming. .
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
Santa Blogs
Dear Santa,
I know you are busy this time of year but I was hoping that you would be able to add a few items for the people on my list. I am going on vacation and I wanted to make sure you had this list early. These are gifts that I think you should get for the regular comment-ers on Poop and Boogies. I also like all their blogs.
I was inspired to write this list by Lois and Susie.
I have numbered them (in no particular order) and have provided links to them so you will be able to find them.
For Kristine- Bathroom spider repellent. lots of people to order stuff from Holey Shirt, and a boob hair razor.
Susie-Washable graffiti paint. And different outfits for her dog. (the dog is always wearing something.)
Kalki- a Target (the store) in her back yard with unlimited PPP. She could also use a new Cow fence for her neighbor oh and John Stamos.
Cat-The DVD's of all the American Idol, Veronica Mars and Buffy Seasons. She does not really need them because she probably knows the words to every episode.
Mrtl-. A better cleaning service and a moose. Lots of pie.
Lois-A book Deal. No more pets. A fire Extinguisher. A girlfriend for her son so she will have lots of Blog material. Oh and pictures of all of the largest items across the US. (she already has her own pictures of some but she could use more).
Barry-A better Fantasy Football Team and his addition completed on time.
Mary-An Armadillo for a pet. Lot of visits from her family since she transplanted to Florida.
SoozieQ-A fantasy football trophy so she has a model in which to make a bunch more and sell. (it really is a good idea.)
CK-A Mini van with flames on the side and a hot tub in the back
Ern-Her own license plate that reads ERNS-BIRD
Jewl-Her husband to come home safe and sound.
Stacie-A cross word book because she had so much trouble with word Verification..
Meegs- Pants that will stay on her fiance when he sleeps.
The Three Bitches-More comment-ers because I think their blog is a hoot.
KimmyK-Money so she could quit her job because she would be "very happy being anti-social bitch."
Yonzie-She really does not need anything because she keeps winning stuff from Blingo.
Eclectic- Raquet ball lessons and A life supply of popcorn (she likes popcorn more than Icecream. Strange I know)
Kami-More Overalls
Effie-Centipede bug spray and a book of poems.
Susie (Raising Liam) - DVD of the first two seasons of Biggest Loser.
Tammy-Nachos and Bean dip.
Metro Dad- A book of classic prank calls.
Mama Duck-A real Tailgate Toilet.
The Lawnwhisperer. A brand new John Deere Walk-behind mower or a week with Dr. Phil. OR his own Blog because he is too damn funny.
There are so many other bloggers that I may have to make a second list because I know I missed some. Sorry.
PS. Santa I would also like peace on earth and goodwill to all people and large screen HI-Def TV for Max.
I know you are busy this time of year but I was hoping that you would be able to add a few items for the people on my list. I am going on vacation and I wanted to make sure you had this list early. These are gifts that I think you should get for the regular comment-ers on Poop and Boogies. I also like all their blogs.
I was inspired to write this list by Lois and Susie.
I have numbered them (in no particular order) and have provided links to them so you will be able to find them.
For Kristine- Bathroom spider repellent. lots of people to order stuff from Holey Shirt, and a boob hair razor.
Susie-Washable graffiti paint. And different outfits for her dog. (the dog is always wearing something.)
Kalki- a Target (the store) in her back yard with unlimited PPP. She could also use a new Cow fence for her neighbor oh and John Stamos.
Cat-The DVD's of all the American Idol, Veronica Mars and Buffy Seasons. She does not really need them because she probably knows the words to every episode.
Mrtl-. A better cleaning service and a moose. Lots of pie.
Lois-A book Deal. No more pets. A fire Extinguisher. A girlfriend for her son so she will have lots of Blog material. Oh and pictures of all of the largest items across the US. (she already has her own pictures of some but she could use more).
Barry-A better Fantasy Football Team and his addition completed on time.
Mary-An Armadillo for a pet. Lot of visits from her family since she transplanted to Florida.
SoozieQ-A fantasy football trophy so she has a model in which to make a bunch more and sell. (it really is a good idea.)
CK-A Mini van with flames on the side and a hot tub in the back
Ern-Her own license plate that reads ERNS-BIRD
Jewl-Her husband to come home safe and sound.
Stacie-A cross word book because she had so much trouble with word Verification..
Meegs- Pants that will stay on her fiance when he sleeps.
The Three Bitches-More comment-ers because I think their blog is a hoot.
KimmyK-Money so she could quit her job because she would be "very happy being anti-social bitch."
Yonzie-She really does not need anything because she keeps winning stuff from Blingo.
Eclectic- Raquet ball lessons and A life supply of popcorn (she likes popcorn more than Icecream. Strange I know)
Kami-More Overalls
Effie-Centipede bug spray and a book of poems.
Susie (Raising Liam) - DVD of the first two seasons of Biggest Loser.
Tammy-Nachos and Bean dip.
Metro Dad- A book of classic prank calls.
Mama Duck-A real Tailgate Toilet.
The Lawnwhisperer. A brand new John Deere Walk-behind mower or a week with Dr. Phil. OR his own Blog because he is too damn funny.
There are so many other bloggers that I may have to make a second list because I know I missed some. Sorry.
PS. Santa I would also like peace on earth and goodwill to all people and large screen HI-Def TV for Max.
Lost at the Target
We went to The Super Target last night to pick up a few odds and ends. Most times when we shop either Lauren or myself does the actual shopping while the other one entertains Maxfield. We picked up most of the stuff we needed when at one point we decided to split up. Lauren and Max went to go pick up cat food and I had to go over electronics. We were to meet at the front of the store.
Now I have been shopping enough with Lauren to know that whenever we split up we never are able to meet back up. The reasons for this are simple. One, I always forget to take a mental note of what she is wearing. So I walk back and forth in the front of the store looking at every person that resembles Lauren. I think to myself, “Was she wearing jeans? Was she wearing a gray sweatshirt?” I never get it right. And Two, I always try to think like her and predict which aisle she would use to get to the front of the store and head her off at the pass. I can never think like her. I always get it wrong.
So last night I am walking back and forth in front of the store looking for my wife thinking, “She said she needed candy bags, she probably is over by the holiday candy section.” I was wrong. Then it hit me, “She has Max. I just need to look for a 30 year old woman with brown hair with a toddler in the cart.” That fit the description of about 80% of the people in the store last night.
I go back to the front of the store because “Vizzini always said Go back to the beginning”. I am pacing back and forth for what seems forever but it was only like 5 minutes when I hear a toddler cry. It sounded just like Max. They say that a parent knows it’s baby’s cry. So I follow the cry. It stops. I listen again. There it is. I star walking to the sound. It stops. I stop. I try to listen over the ring of registers and the pumped in Christmas music. I hear it again. I am getting closer. It is just like playing Marco Polo.
I finally pin point the source of the cry. Not Maxfield. Parents knowing their baby’s cry thing. So not true with me. I felt like a lost kid.
A few minutes later we meet up and Lauren tells me that she has to run to the store next door. I tell her to meet Max and I out at the car. Max was getting a little antsy and it is easier to contain him in the car. I get him strapped into his car seat and I reach for the diaper bag to get him a snack when I realize that the bag is with Lauren. So in an effort to entertain him I put on some music.
Maxfield loves music. He claps hands and bobs his head to the beat. He complains when the music is not upbeat enough. He really likes when we dance together. He always laughs when either Lauren or myself shake our heads to the music.
We were listening to Ben Folds when I find the Black Eyed Peas CD and put it in the player. It’s dance party time in the KIA minivan. We were listening to track #9 (featuring James Brown). I am sitting in the front seat watching Max in the rearview mirror. He is laughing at my moves. We were really getting into it, and I was in the middle of my third Janet Jacksonesque head swerve thing when I look over and I see a Target employee watching me. The employee was gathering the shopping carts. But he just stood there watching me. I started to feel the flush of embarrassment creep up my neck and I signaled to him that I was trying to entertain the Kid in the backseat.
He looked at the back window, shrugged his shoulders and shook his head, laughed and continued to gather the carts. I then realized that we have tinted windows in the back of the van. He could not see what I referring Max. He probably thought I was some deranged idiot.
Now I have been shopping enough with Lauren to know that whenever we split up we never are able to meet back up. The reasons for this are simple. One, I always forget to take a mental note of what she is wearing. So I walk back and forth in the front of the store looking at every person that resembles Lauren. I think to myself, “Was she wearing jeans? Was she wearing a gray sweatshirt?” I never get it right. And Two, I always try to think like her and predict which aisle she would use to get to the front of the store and head her off at the pass. I can never think like her. I always get it wrong.
So last night I am walking back and forth in front of the store looking for my wife thinking, “She said she needed candy bags, she probably is over by the holiday candy section.” I was wrong. Then it hit me, “She has Max. I just need to look for a 30 year old woman with brown hair with a toddler in the cart.” That fit the description of about 80% of the people in the store last night.
I go back to the front of the store because “Vizzini always said Go back to the beginning”. I am pacing back and forth for what seems forever but it was only like 5 minutes when I hear a toddler cry. It sounded just like Max. They say that a parent knows it’s baby’s cry. So I follow the cry. It stops. I listen again. There it is. I star walking to the sound. It stops. I stop. I try to listen over the ring of registers and the pumped in Christmas music. I hear it again. I am getting closer. It is just like playing Marco Polo.
I finally pin point the source of the cry. Not Maxfield. Parents knowing their baby’s cry thing. So not true with me. I felt like a lost kid.
A few minutes later we meet up and Lauren tells me that she has to run to the store next door. I tell her to meet Max and I out at the car. Max was getting a little antsy and it is easier to contain him in the car. I get him strapped into his car seat and I reach for the diaper bag to get him a snack when I realize that the bag is with Lauren. So in an effort to entertain him I put on some music.
Maxfield loves music. He claps hands and bobs his head to the beat. He complains when the music is not upbeat enough. He really likes when we dance together. He always laughs when either Lauren or myself shake our heads to the music.
We were listening to Ben Folds when I find the Black Eyed Peas CD and put it in the player. It’s dance party time in the KIA minivan. We were listening to track #9 (featuring James Brown). I am sitting in the front seat watching Max in the rearview mirror. He is laughing at my moves. We were really getting into it, and I was in the middle of my third Janet Jacksonesque head swerve thing when I look over and I see a Target employee watching me. The employee was gathering the shopping carts. But he just stood there watching me. I started to feel the flush of embarrassment creep up my neck and I signaled to him that I was trying to entertain the Kid in the backseat.
He looked at the back window, shrugged his shoulders and shook his head, laughed and continued to gather the carts. I then realized that we have tinted windows in the back of the van. He could not see what I referring Max. He probably thought I was some deranged idiot.
Tuesday, December 13, 2005
Monday, December 12, 2005
What's driving me crazy.
Yes, I know,
"Every Kiss begins with K(ay)" *
So does Killing me with these commercials.
Every Kiss my ass begins with K also.
*for those who know this ad, I know you just hummed the little jingle.
"Every Kiss begins with K(ay)" *
So does Killing me with these commercials.
Every Kiss my ass begins with K also.
*for those who know this ad, I know you just hummed the little jingle.
It's the books
I wrote about this before HERE. It happened again this weekend. Twice. We went to Borders on Saturday morning. We were only there for about 10 minutes when he stopped in the middle of one of the CD aisles. I kept calling him to follow me but he had that look. You parents out there know that look.
We went back to Borders Books again on Sunday evening. While he was enjoying the Dora the Explorer sounds book he was making sounds of his own.
I am amazed at this phenomenom of him pooping in book stores.
We went back to Borders Books again on Sunday evening. While he was enjoying the Dora the Explorer sounds book he was making sounds of his own.
I am amazed at this phenomenom of him pooping in book stores.
Saturday, December 10, 2005
Supes
A few weeks ago we went to a birthday party that had one of those moon-walk-things. I forgot to post pictures of Max having the best time of his entire life. Ever. He spent close to two hours in the thing and put up a serious fight when we took him out of it. Also, I do not advise letting your almost two year old wear "windbreaker" type pants while in a moon-walk-thing. Sure they are good for breakdancing, but in a moon-walk-thing, once you fall, the pants make it quite difficult to get back up.
Friday, December 09, 2005
Greatest Gift
Lauren and I have been quite busy preparing for the Christmas Holiday. Lauren pointed out to me that we have 22 people on our gift list this year and that does not include Max, Lauren or me. She said to me last night, “I don’t know how your parents did It.” with having so many kids and Godchildren and brothers and sisters.
Every year at this time I think the same thing. How did they pull it off? There were 9 of us. That’s a lot of presents for Santa to deliver.
Christmas morning was always a whirlwind in our house. The night before, my parents would arrange the gifts in piles under the tree with each of our names on our designated pile (We still, to this day, joke about who had the biggest piles of gifts, FYI- Jimmy). We would all come down the stairs at the same time and sit in front of our pile and as my parents watched sipping their coffee and tea, open our gifts at the same time, There were 11 of us in a small family room, tripping over each other to see what Santa brought for us.
I always tried to keep my wish list reasonable after I found out that my parents were acting as Santa’s agents. I knew they had a lot of mouths to feed and they always did their best to provide us with nice Christmas gifts. But one year, the only thing I wanted cost $60.00. I was willing to forego all other gifts if I could just have this one thing.
You see, in 1982 I was 12 and I thought I was a budding comic book artist. The only piece of equipment I would need, to be the next Jack Kirby, was a Drawing Table. I knew that sixty bucks was lot of money at that time and I did not have high hopes because I also knew that I needed socks, gloves, a hat and probably a new pair of Tough Skins.
When I came down to the tree that Christmas Morning, I noticed that there were a few gift boxes with my name on them. I was a little saddened that there was no table waiting under the tree but I knew that it was a lot of money and understood that things were tight. I opened the few gifts (gloves and socks) that I received and I sat and watched everyone else open their much bigger piles. I guess I would have to wait to create the next Spiderman.
As I sat and listened to my brothers “Ooohing and Ahhing” over their gifts I heard my mother, not raising her voice or anything but just a normal tone, say “Bill.”
I turned to look at her (and I know this sounds totally cheesy, but I will never forget the smile on her face) she smiled and nodded her head towards the back wall. I followed her eyes. There it was, a giant box, leaning against the back door. I jumped up and ran over. I tried picking the box up but it was too heavy. I spun it around so I could look at the front picture. A drawing table.
I was ecstatic. I turned around and looked at my mom. She had a devilish grin on her face. I guess the table was not with my pile of gifts because it was so big. I also think that my mom wanted to see my reaction to actually getting the gift. With so many kids opening gifts at the same time I am sure it was difficult to see everyone. Or maybe she was just letting me sweat it out.
I never did become a great comic book artist. The only drawing I do now is MooneyAngelo stuff, but I kept that table until I was 27. It is still one of my favorite gifts. Ever.
Every year at this time I think the same thing. How did they pull it off? There were 9 of us. That’s a lot of presents for Santa to deliver.
Christmas morning was always a whirlwind in our house. The night before, my parents would arrange the gifts in piles under the tree with each of our names on our designated pile (We still, to this day, joke about who had the biggest piles of gifts, FYI- Jimmy). We would all come down the stairs at the same time and sit in front of our pile and as my parents watched sipping their coffee and tea, open our gifts at the same time, There were 11 of us in a small family room, tripping over each other to see what Santa brought for us.
I always tried to keep my wish list reasonable after I found out that my parents were acting as Santa’s agents. I knew they had a lot of mouths to feed and they always did their best to provide us with nice Christmas gifts. But one year, the only thing I wanted cost $60.00. I was willing to forego all other gifts if I could just have this one thing.
You see, in 1982 I was 12 and I thought I was a budding comic book artist. The only piece of equipment I would need, to be the next Jack Kirby, was a Drawing Table. I knew that sixty bucks was lot of money at that time and I did not have high hopes because I also knew that I needed socks, gloves, a hat and probably a new pair of Tough Skins.
When I came down to the tree that Christmas Morning, I noticed that there were a few gift boxes with my name on them. I was a little saddened that there was no table waiting under the tree but I knew that it was a lot of money and understood that things were tight. I opened the few gifts (gloves and socks) that I received and I sat and watched everyone else open their much bigger piles. I guess I would have to wait to create the next Spiderman.
As I sat and listened to my brothers “Ooohing and Ahhing” over their gifts I heard my mother, not raising her voice or anything but just a normal tone, say “Bill.”
I turned to look at her (and I know this sounds totally cheesy, but I will never forget the smile on her face) she smiled and nodded her head towards the back wall. I followed her eyes. There it was, a giant box, leaning against the back door. I jumped up and ran over. I tried picking the box up but it was too heavy. I spun it around so I could look at the front picture. A drawing table.
I was ecstatic. I turned around and looked at my mom. She had a devilish grin on her face. I guess the table was not with my pile of gifts because it was so big. I also think that my mom wanted to see my reaction to actually getting the gift. With so many kids opening gifts at the same time I am sure it was difficult to see everyone. Or maybe she was just letting me sweat it out.
I never did become a great comic book artist. The only drawing I do now is MooneyAngelo stuff, but I kept that table until I was 27. It is still one of my favorite gifts. Ever.
Wednesday, December 07, 2005
Mood Changer
We went to see the OB/GYN on Wednesday. We are supposed to see each of the doctors at this practice. Being a man, I get confused sometimes and forget which doctor we are going to see. Lauren suggested a while ago that we just call them all Dr. Vincent Van Gina (not to their faces of course).
While we were waiting in the exam room Max was having a grand old time playing with the stirrups. Moving them from the up position to the down position. I was surprised and slightly amused at the fact that the stirrups had covers on them. Covers similar to a golf club cover, but only these looked like little Crown Royal bags. I looked closer to see the printing on them. Ortho Tri Cyclen, a birth control pill, was written in yellow on both sides of the cover. Those drug manufacturers really know how to advertise. Pure Genius.
We waited for a really long time and I was starting to get pissed. I hate waiting. We were trying to keep Max from touching anything else in the room ( I mean sure he can play with the stirrups and get some kind of fungus but..well you know). Usually when we go to the doctors I grab a tongue depressor from the glass jar with the metal top and hand it to Max and he is entertained for a while. They don't have tongue depressors in an OB/GYN office, and if they did I would be somewhat worried. They did have these giant Q-tips but I did not think it would be cool for Max to play with them, besides I do not think they were for cleaning out ears.
Max was getting antsy and I was getting more and more irritated that they were keeping us waiting. Finally Dr. Van Gina comes in and apologizes about the wait, but I didn't want to hear it. I wanted to be bitter. Lauren was somewhat annoyed as well. It took the doctor about two seconds for introductions when she whips out Doppler machine and has it on Lauren's belly.
We all heard the quick thump-thump-thump coming from the small speaker. Max started smiling. Lauren started smiling. I started smiling.
Nothing can change a bad mood quicker than hearing your unborn baby's heartbeat
While we were waiting in the exam room Max was having a grand old time playing with the stirrups. Moving them from the up position to the down position. I was surprised and slightly amused at the fact that the stirrups had covers on them. Covers similar to a golf club cover, but only these looked like little Crown Royal bags. I looked closer to see the printing on them. Ortho Tri Cyclen, a birth control pill, was written in yellow on both sides of the cover. Those drug manufacturers really know how to advertise. Pure Genius.
We waited for a really long time and I was starting to get pissed. I hate waiting. We were trying to keep Max from touching anything else in the room ( I mean sure he can play with the stirrups and get some kind of fungus but..well you know). Usually when we go to the doctors I grab a tongue depressor from the glass jar with the metal top and hand it to Max and he is entertained for a while. They don't have tongue depressors in an OB/GYN office, and if they did I would be somewhat worried. They did have these giant Q-tips but I did not think it would be cool for Max to play with them, besides I do not think they were for cleaning out ears.
Max was getting antsy and I was getting more and more irritated that they were keeping us waiting. Finally Dr. Van Gina comes in and apologizes about the wait, but I didn't want to hear it. I wanted to be bitter. Lauren was somewhat annoyed as well. It took the doctor about two seconds for introductions when she whips out Doppler machine and has it on Lauren's belly.
We all heard the quick thump-thump-thump coming from the small speaker. Max started smiling. Lauren started smiling. I started smiling.
Nothing can change a bad mood quicker than hearing your unborn baby's heartbeat
Missed Communication
Sometimes Lauren and I are so in tune with each other we can complete each others sentences, or we think of the exact same thing at the exact same time. Other times we are so not connected, that we have a hard time figuring out what the other is saying. Maybe it is due to me mumbling, Lauren being distracted or if it is just a miscommunication. Sometimes the miscommunication is funny. Here are the recent examples.
While walking into a store.
Bill: I need to find the men’s room. I gotta take a leak.
Lauren: What do you need a measuring tape for?
Bill: What? I said, “I need to find the men’s room”.
Lauren: Oh.
Bill: Do you want me to measure something while I am in there?
Over dinner.
Bill: How hot do you think this sauce is?
Lauren: How Happy?
Bill: Hot! How hot?
Lauren: I thought that was a strange question.
A few weeks ago we were over our neighbors house for dessert and coffee. It was getting close to Max’s bedtime and I really was not in the mood to socialize so I kept dropping hints to Lauren as well as the hosts that we had to get going. After a few, “Wow Max looks really tired.” And “Hey Max it’s almost time for bed.” Lauren was not picking up on my hints. At one point I turned to her, so no one else could see me, and I mouthed silently but exaggerated “LETS GO!”
Lauren not realizing that I was trying not to be rude says loud enough for everyone in the room to hear, “Sheesh Okay Bill, I heard you! Just hold on a sec.” She totally threw me under the bus.
I felt quite embarrassed.
While walking into a store.
Bill: I need to find the men’s room. I gotta take a leak.
Lauren: What do you need a measuring tape for?
Bill: What? I said, “I need to find the men’s room”.
Lauren: Oh.
Bill: Do you want me to measure something while I am in there?
Over dinner.
Bill: How hot do you think this sauce is?
Lauren: How Happy?
Bill: Hot! How hot?
Lauren: I thought that was a strange question.
A few weeks ago we were over our neighbors house for dessert and coffee. It was getting close to Max’s bedtime and I really was not in the mood to socialize so I kept dropping hints to Lauren as well as the hosts that we had to get going. After a few, “Wow Max looks really tired.” And “Hey Max it’s almost time for bed.” Lauren was not picking up on my hints. At one point I turned to her, so no one else could see me, and I mouthed silently but exaggerated “LETS GO!”
Lauren not realizing that I was trying not to be rude says loud enough for everyone in the room to hear, “Sheesh Okay Bill, I heard you! Just hold on a sec.” She totally threw me under the bus.
I felt quite embarrassed.
Tuesday, December 06, 2005
Behold
"Hey Lauren, you know how I have not been feeling well for the past 3 or 4 days? I just want to point out that I have not had icecream in 5 days. Coincidence?"
"Oh, behold the power of icecream."
"Oh, behold the power of icecream."
Monday, December 05, 2005
Max or Damien?
A few days ago I was having a conversation with our babysitter's dad about how difficult it is to get into the Christmas spirit when it is 75 degrees outside. Yesterday he stopped by with an invitation to join him and his family at their church's Christmas Pageant/Concert. He said the choir and music would help put us in the spirit of the holidays. He also told us they have a pretty good "drama-squad" that puts on a decent show. Christmas carols and drama sounded like fun so we met them at the church. The show was an interesting mix of a holiday and religious songs performed by the choir and basic story line that the "drama squad" acted out in intermittent vignettes, about the meaning of Christmas.
Lauren and I were concerned with how long Maxfield was going to last before he would throw a fit, but much to our surprise he was very well behaved. We kept him entertained with toys and juice and crackers and Pepperidge Farm Goldfish. He also enjoyed the music and singing. We did not hear a peep out him and were very proud of his behavior.
About half way through the show, the actors on stage were asking “Aunt Belle” about the meaning of Christmas. It was at this point that Max decided to speak.
There was not a sound in the church besides the actors speaking.
(I am paraphrasing some of the dialogue. )
Kid 1: Why do we celebrate Christmas?
Aunt Belle: Well, do you believe that Jesus is the Son of God?
MAX: NO!
Aunt Belle: And that he was sent here to help us?
MAX: Na na, NO.
Aunt Belle: Do you know how they say he was the King of Kings?
MAX: NO no no.
Aunt Belle: And that he died for our sins.
MAX: No.
I looked around to see if anyone was looking at us but no one was. I glanced at Lauren and could see her holding back the “church giggles” and in an effort to stifle my chuckles, I shoved a fistful of Goldfish into my mouth.
Maxfield did not say anything else after that. He was a perfect angel. Or devil?
I need to keep my eye on him.
Lauren and I were concerned with how long Maxfield was going to last before he would throw a fit, but much to our surprise he was very well behaved. We kept him entertained with toys and juice and crackers and Pepperidge Farm Goldfish. He also enjoyed the music and singing. We did not hear a peep out him and were very proud of his behavior.
About half way through the show, the actors on stage were asking “Aunt Belle” about the meaning of Christmas. It was at this point that Max decided to speak.
There was not a sound in the church besides the actors speaking.
(I am paraphrasing some of the dialogue. )
Kid 1: Why do we celebrate Christmas?
Aunt Belle: Well, do you believe that Jesus is the Son of God?
MAX: NO!
Aunt Belle: And that he was sent here to help us?
MAX: Na na, NO.
Aunt Belle: Do you know how they say he was the King of Kings?
MAX: NO no no.
Aunt Belle: And that he died for our sins.
MAX: No.
I looked around to see if anyone was looking at us but no one was. I glanced at Lauren and could see her holding back the “church giggles” and in an effort to stifle my chuckles, I shoved a fistful of Goldfish into my mouth.
Maxfield did not say anything else after that. He was a perfect angel. Or devil?
I need to keep my eye on him.
Friday, December 02, 2005
When she said Yes.
Four years ago On December 3rd 2001 Lauren agreed to marry me (see yesterdays post).
After the disappointment of not being able to propose the day before, I went to work on Monday morning knowing that by the evening I would be possibly engaged. I did not get much work done. During lunch I went to the jeweler to pick up the ring. This time they had it ready for me.
I put the ring box in my front pocket and carried it around the rest of the day. I was afraid I would misplace it. Every half hour I would take the box out, open it and make sure that the ring did not disappear. OCD at it’s finest.
Since my plans from the day before were somewhat foiled I spent the rest of the day trying to figure out if I should wait until the weekend to propose or if I could make arrangements for later in the week. I kept thinking to myself, “Who gets engaged on a Monday?”
On the way home I decided I would ask her that night. When I got home from work I was surprised to see that Lauren had pulled out the folding card table and had it set for dinner (we did not have a dining room table at the time and we usually ate in front of the TV). She had candles lit and everything. “Shit. She knew what I was doing? How did she figure it out?” I thought. I think I tried to talk her out of eating at home and that we should go the mall but she went to all the trouble of making a nice romantic dinner.
I sat down and tried to eat but I could not. I was nervous. I played with the food, constantly checking my pocket to make sure that the ring was still in there as well as making sure that she could not see the box. I barely touched the food. She kept asking me if everything was okay.
During the dinner I asked her if she would go to the mall with me so I could get some shopping done. She did not really want to go. She pointed out the fact that we just went shopping yesterday and that the mall would be crowded. But she eventually said she would go with me.
When I met Lauren she was working at a UNO Chicago Bar and Grille attached to the mall. Since then it changed over to a Ruby Tuesday’s. As we approached the entrance I told Lauren I could really use a drink, which was true because I knew it would calm me as well as I needed an excuse to go into the bar. She agreed.
The layout of the Bar/restaurant changed since the time that we met and it took me several minutes to figure out the exact spot that we met. After we finished out drinks I asked her “Where do you think the spot that we met is in this place?” She looked around and pointed out over to a spot which was quite crowded with tables and patrons. I grabbed her hand and I said something like, “Let’s go look.”
Lauren resisted slightly, but followed. We were standing between too big tables filled with diners when I said, “Do you think this is the spot?”
She said, “ What are you doing? I don’t know. It’s too hard to tell.”
I then pulled out the ring, got down on one knee and asked her to marry me. My hands were shaking and my voice quivering. The look on her face was one of disbelief and shock. The people that were enjoying their meals surrounding us did not notice a thing. She said, “Yes”.
We kissed and then left the Ruby Tuesdays. On our way out we passed a carousel, which we decided to ride on to kind of remember the moment.
Later that night, after telling both sets of parents, we went for a walk in the park. We were trying to extend the special night. While walking hand in hand, our breath visible from the cold, Lauren looked up into the dark sky and saw a shooting star. So it turned out okay that my original plans fell through.
After the disappointment of not being able to propose the day before, I went to work on Monday morning knowing that by the evening I would be possibly engaged. I did not get much work done. During lunch I went to the jeweler to pick up the ring. This time they had it ready for me.
I put the ring box in my front pocket and carried it around the rest of the day. I was afraid I would misplace it. Every half hour I would take the box out, open it and make sure that the ring did not disappear. OCD at it’s finest.
Since my plans from the day before were somewhat foiled I spent the rest of the day trying to figure out if I should wait until the weekend to propose or if I could make arrangements for later in the week. I kept thinking to myself, “Who gets engaged on a Monday?”
On the way home I decided I would ask her that night. When I got home from work I was surprised to see that Lauren had pulled out the folding card table and had it set for dinner (we did not have a dining room table at the time and we usually ate in front of the TV). She had candles lit and everything. “Shit. She knew what I was doing? How did she figure it out?” I thought. I think I tried to talk her out of eating at home and that we should go the mall but she went to all the trouble of making a nice romantic dinner.
I sat down and tried to eat but I could not. I was nervous. I played with the food, constantly checking my pocket to make sure that the ring was still in there as well as making sure that she could not see the box. I barely touched the food. She kept asking me if everything was okay.
During the dinner I asked her if she would go to the mall with me so I could get some shopping done. She did not really want to go. She pointed out the fact that we just went shopping yesterday and that the mall would be crowded. But she eventually said she would go with me.
When I met Lauren she was working at a UNO Chicago Bar and Grille attached to the mall. Since then it changed over to a Ruby Tuesday’s. As we approached the entrance I told Lauren I could really use a drink, which was true because I knew it would calm me as well as I needed an excuse to go into the bar. She agreed.
The layout of the Bar/restaurant changed since the time that we met and it took me several minutes to figure out the exact spot that we met. After we finished out drinks I asked her “Where do you think the spot that we met is in this place?” She looked around and pointed out over to a spot which was quite crowded with tables and patrons. I grabbed her hand and I said something like, “Let’s go look.”
Lauren resisted slightly, but followed. We were standing between too big tables filled with diners when I said, “Do you think this is the spot?”
She said, “ What are you doing? I don’t know. It’s too hard to tell.”
I then pulled out the ring, got down on one knee and asked her to marry me. My hands were shaking and my voice quivering. The look on her face was one of disbelief and shock. The people that were enjoying their meals surrounding us did not notice a thing. She said, “Yes”.
We kissed and then left the Ruby Tuesdays. On our way out we passed a carousel, which we decided to ride on to kind of remember the moment.
Later that night, after telling both sets of parents, we went for a walk in the park. We were trying to extend the special night. While walking hand in hand, our breath visible from the cold, Lauren looked up into the dark sky and saw a shooting star. So it turned out okay that my original plans fell through.
It would have been romantic.
Exactly four years ago today I was supposed to ask Lauren to marry me. It did not happen as planned.
Flash back to November 25th 2001. We were already, as Mom would say, “living in sin” for a few years so it was time to, as Dad would say "shit or get off the pot" and make it official. I worked in a Sports Bar at the time and I was working on a Sunday afternoon because of football. Every now and then I would bet on a few games but I would rarely win. This particular Sunday I had some type of weird parlay bet going with three different games. I won the first two but the last game did not look good. I bet on the Miami Dolphins who were being dominated by the Buffalo Bills and were down by 14 in the fourth quarter.
As I left work I said to Mike, the guy I bet with, “Call me if a miracle happens.” I went directly to the jeweler to price out engagement rings. I was talking to the sales lady about all the payment options and when I could actually pick up the ring. I was on the fence about whether I should get a simple ring and get engaged right away or if I should wait until I had more money, buy a nicer diamond and wait until after the holidays to propose. My cell phone rang. It was Mike form the bar. “A miracle happened. Miami won 34 to 27.” I hung up and ordered the nicer diamond and a nicer ring.
The sales lady said I could pick up the ring in one week because they needed to set it. I said okay and made my plans for the following Sunday to ask Lauren to be my wife.
I was going to ask her Sunday December 2nd, 2001. We were going to go Christmas shopping, have dinner at the place that we met, I would pop the question and we would have plenty of time to go tell her parents and my parents the good news. She did not have a clue about my plans.
Sunday December 2nd, 2001, I told Lauren I had to go to work “for a few minutes” as an excuse to go pick up the ring. She was a little disappointed because we had plans to go Christmas shopping at Peddlers Village, a nice, outdoorsy festival type of place. I told her I would be only a little bit and that we would still be going shopping.
I arrived at the Jewelers, nervous and exited to actually pick up the ring. I knew this was gong to be a great day. I found the sales lady that assisted me from the week before and she gave me a puzzling look. I pulled out my paper work and asked for the ring. She looked it over and said that the ring was not in yet. It would be there tomorrow.
“What? Last Sunday you told me a week.”
“ I know but our office downtown was closed on Sundays so I could not place the order until Monday so it is a week from last Monday.”
“But YOU said a week. Do you know that a week is SEVEN days? Not Eight.”
“I’m sorry.” She pouted but immediately perked up and smiled to say, “But it will be here tomorrow.”
“But I wanted to get engaged today I had the whole thing planned.”
She looked horrified and she apologized about 90 times. She made a few phone calls and told me that I could pick up the ring in Delaware if I wanted. Delaware, which was about 1 and half hours away. I couldn’t do that because I would then have to explain it to Lauren and ruin the surprise.
I left the store in a huff.
Lauren and I went shopping at Peddlers’ Village and we had a nice time but I could not help but be distracted with the thought of not having the ring. The day was perfect. It was sunny and cold, but not too cold. We shopped drinking cider and hot chocolate. Perfect day to get engaged. We were driving home and Lauren even suggested that we go to dinner at the place we met. I was so pissed because it would have been perfect but I declined because I wanted to bring her there the when I had the ring.
Needless to say we did not get engaged that day. It would have been romantic.
Flash back to November 25th 2001. We were already, as Mom would say, “living in sin” for a few years so it was time to, as Dad would say "shit or get off the pot" and make it official. I worked in a Sports Bar at the time and I was working on a Sunday afternoon because of football. Every now and then I would bet on a few games but I would rarely win. This particular Sunday I had some type of weird parlay bet going with three different games. I won the first two but the last game did not look good. I bet on the Miami Dolphins who were being dominated by the Buffalo Bills and were down by 14 in the fourth quarter.
As I left work I said to Mike, the guy I bet with, “Call me if a miracle happens.” I went directly to the jeweler to price out engagement rings. I was talking to the sales lady about all the payment options and when I could actually pick up the ring. I was on the fence about whether I should get a simple ring and get engaged right away or if I should wait until I had more money, buy a nicer diamond and wait until after the holidays to propose. My cell phone rang. It was Mike form the bar. “A miracle happened. Miami won 34 to 27.” I hung up and ordered the nicer diamond and a nicer ring.
The sales lady said I could pick up the ring in one week because they needed to set it. I said okay and made my plans for the following Sunday to ask Lauren to be my wife.
I was going to ask her Sunday December 2nd, 2001. We were going to go Christmas shopping, have dinner at the place that we met, I would pop the question and we would have plenty of time to go tell her parents and my parents the good news. She did not have a clue about my plans.
Sunday December 2nd, 2001, I told Lauren I had to go to work “for a few minutes” as an excuse to go pick up the ring. She was a little disappointed because we had plans to go Christmas shopping at Peddlers Village, a nice, outdoorsy festival type of place. I told her I would be only a little bit and that we would still be going shopping.
I arrived at the Jewelers, nervous and exited to actually pick up the ring. I knew this was gong to be a great day. I found the sales lady that assisted me from the week before and she gave me a puzzling look. I pulled out my paper work and asked for the ring. She looked it over and said that the ring was not in yet. It would be there tomorrow.
“What? Last Sunday you told me a week.”
“ I know but our office downtown was closed on Sundays so I could not place the order until Monday so it is a week from last Monday.”
“But YOU said a week. Do you know that a week is SEVEN days? Not Eight.”
“I’m sorry.” She pouted but immediately perked up and smiled to say, “But it will be here tomorrow.”
“But I wanted to get engaged today I had the whole thing planned.”
She looked horrified and she apologized about 90 times. She made a few phone calls and told me that I could pick up the ring in Delaware if I wanted. Delaware, which was about 1 and half hours away. I couldn’t do that because I would then have to explain it to Lauren and ruin the surprise.
I left the store in a huff.
Lauren and I went shopping at Peddlers’ Village and we had a nice time but I could not help but be distracted with the thought of not having the ring. The day was perfect. It was sunny and cold, but not too cold. We shopped drinking cider and hot chocolate. Perfect day to get engaged. We were driving home and Lauren even suggested that we go to dinner at the place we met. I was so pissed because it would have been perfect but I declined because I wanted to bring her there the when I had the ring.
Needless to say we did not get engaged that day. It would have been romantic.
Thursday, December 01, 2005
Happy Day
Happy birthday to Max's cousin Marcus. He is One today.
Also today Maxfield is 21 months old. We're going out for beers.
Also today Maxfield is 21 months old. We're going out for beers.
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