Henry The Explorer

When I was in second grade, my favorite book, actually it was a series of books, was Henry the Explorer by Mark Taylor and Graham Booth. The way I remember, there were three or so books about Henry and his dog Angus and their exploring adventures. Each week, on Library day, I would bring home one of the Henry books and ask my mom to read it to me, over and over again. I don’t think I ever checked-out another book by another author. I only read about Henry.

In each book Henry would pack his backpack with various necessities such as a flashlight, a sandwich, a bone for his dog and some other stuff. He also always packed a bunch of little yellow flags with a red letter “H”. As he explored he would use his flags to claim his discoveries. Henry would eventually get lost and then need to follow his flags back to his house.

I remember my mom making me exploring kits on the weekends, complete with yellow flags with a red “B”, so I could explore the neighborhood and the woods down the street from our house. I would be gone for the better part of the day. I remember exploring the freshly dug foundations of the new housing development on Silvestri farms and claiming each new house as mine. My brother Jim now lives in one of those houses and I don’t think he realizes that his house is actually mine. He probably doesn’t realize that I probably peed in his basement (that was just last week ((I kid)).

Recently I became aware of two books, Dangerous Book for Boys and Last Child in the Woods that have brought up the issue of today’s parents being overprotective of our kids. That today’s children do not get out into nature enough nor is there enough “natural play”, pretending, and creativity when it comes to a child’s free time. I have heard the authors interviewed on different radio programs and one of them mentioned that the parent’s fear of their child getting hurt is actually making our children weaker. Our fear as parents is making our kids afraid.

I know that I sometimes fall into the category of being an over protective parent. Lauren and I have talked about this a few times but our children are still very young. We make efforts to get them outside, to skim rocks and hike and explore the outdoors.

But I can also see a time in our near future where we are busy carting them off to Little League and soccer, where the scores don’t matter and even the worst teams get trophies and everyone is a winner. Is this good for our children?

What are your thoughts?


Nilbo posted a great piece about this today.

Hunter Gatherer with a Bonus Card.

I do about 90% of the food shopping for our house. I do not really look at it as a chore but more of my responsibility as man of the house. That may seem old fashioned or maybe somewhat chauvinistic but I think it is a something genetic. Maybe a gene that goes back to the time of the Neanderthal.

After a decent shopping trip I used to come home and Lauren would help me put the groceries away. I would use that time to show her all the good stuff I purchased. I would be happy with a “buy one get one free deal” or I would be proud of the fact that I remembered to pick up Parmesan cheese even though it was not on the list. She would compliment me with a “Great. That was good deal.” Or “Oh thank you I forgot we needed that.” It would give me the satisfaction of a job well done. It was my little reward ceremony, like the cavemen had for bringing home the big game, but without the bonfires and drumming. And although I do consider it my job and my responsibility it is nice to receive some recognition. I also know that I don’t thank my wife nearly enough for doing her part in raising the kids and keeping the house together.

Lately I do most of my shopping at night, after the kids go to bed. I may not get home until 10pm and by that time Lauren is already in bed. I put the groceries away myself and I have to wait until the morning to brag about my purchases. Usually the next morning I forget about one of the great deals and it may be a day or two after when Lauren will say something like, “I saw that you got yogurt. Thanks.” Shopping at night takes a bit of the reward out of the whole experience.

Shopping at night has put a damper on my inner caveman. There is no instant satisfaction of a coming home from the hunt. I am now officially putting in a request to my wife to have her and the kids at least do some crude wall drawings in our dining room of me holding a coupon and a shopping cart staring down a bag of Doritos.

I Could Have Been a Contender Part 3

I have written here and here about how I blame my siblings for me not meeting my full potential of being a huge sports star or an Academy Award winning actor.

After the Headless Horseman debacle it took me a few years to recover before I decided that theater was the avenue for me to take in an effort to be noticed. My freshman year in high school I decided to audition (not “try-out” see the whole play practice/rehearsal post here) for the fall play “All My Sons” by Arthur Miller. I remember during the audition sitting with my friend CharLynn and asking her for pointers. She had performed in various shows in middle school and was the only person I actually knew at the audition. The director called my name, I went up and read the lines and he immediately cast me in the show. I nailed the audition. The director could clearly see the talent in front of him. Actually, there were six male roles to fill and only five males auditioned, but that did not make any difference, I was very excited to be doing something no one else in my family had done. I was going to be in a play. I was cast in the small role of Frank, who was played by Harry Morgan (Colonel Potter from MASH) in the original broadway production. A small role, but still a role.

I remember my mom and dad being very happy for me. I did not realize at the time that the fact that I was going to be a thespian would hurt my street-cred in school as well with my brothers. Being in plays was not really considered the cool thing to do. I was mocked. I was teased. But I was having a good time. I met my friend’s Susan and Caren during this show and we are still friends 20 plus years later.

When it came time for opening night I remember I had a difficult time convincing my siblings to come to the show. The show nights conflicted with Basketball games and part time jobs and making-out with Nancy W. Arthur Miller was not known for his slapstick comedies so I could understand the hesitation. I am sure my mom forced some of them to come see me perform but for the most part it was a light turn out. But I had fun. I was a star. I was the favorite son for a weekend.

The springtime show in my freshman year was “Grease”. It was going to have the same director as “All My Sons” and he asked me to audition. The director asked me to audition and with the male turn out of the last audition I was guaranteed a good role. Little did I realize that “Grease” was (and is) a very popular show. Almost every male and their brother auditioned for the musical.

Including my brother Kevin.

Guess who got cast as Danny Zuko the lead role in the musical? Danny Zuko who was played by John Travolta in the movie. That’s right, my brother Kevin. I was cast as part of the chorus AKA the wallflower. Granted Kevin was a senior and I was a freshman. It was a musical and Kevin could sing really well. I on the other hand sounded like Peter Brady hitting puberty (hell I was just about hitting puberty at that time). Kevin could dance. He knew the "Hand Jive". I moved like I was having a Grand Mal Seizure. Kevin deserved the part. He was good. Damn good.


Here, I thought theater was going to bring me recognition. But, no. Kevin literally, stole my spotlight. I was crushed. I was Harry Morgan and he was John Travolta.

But did Kevin lose street-cred? Was he mocked or teased? No. Did anyone make up an excuse not to go see him in the show? No.

At first I was bitter, but as the show progressed a couple of good things came out of it.

I got to hang out with my brother Kevin and a bunch of seniors.

Kevin made being involved in theater a cool thing to do.

And during the song Beauty School Dropout, a few nights a week, to a packed auditorium of parents and students, I got to yell "Hooker".

Beat Box

My kid's new favorite show is Yo Gabba Gabba. Every time I watch the show I can't help but think that someone watched Dee Lite's Groove Is In The Heart video and thought, "Wow. This would make a great kids television show."

The show takes place in a play world where five miniature toys come to life. The five toys, to me at least, resemble some of the monsters from the Ultra Man , Johnny Sokko and his Flying Robot, and the Space Giants TV shows from the 70's.

The show claims that it is about "life-lessons with a beat."

They have special guests in each episode that includes the likes of Tony Hawk, Elijah Wood, and Biz Markie ( Oh baybeee, Yoooo Got what I need).

Biz Markie does the segment Biz's Beat of the Day where he teaches kids Beatboxing. My son Wyatt, who is not even two years old yet, has become quite the beatboxer.

I am not sure what life-lessons he has learned but he sure has got the whole vocal percussion thing down.

Payback

Last week I wrote about older brothers getting payback
on their little brothers. This is just the start.

Wyatt climbed in on his own but Max was very quick to lock the door and laugh at him.

Injury Timeout

Wyatt, Maxfield and I were playing a game when the the two of them went down. As they fell their heads collided. I winced just observing the collision and I could see that Lauren was upset by how hard they hit.

There was a moment of quiet and calm.

Then Wyatt stood up.

His face all scrunched up and he started to wail. His screams were loud.

"That, was not good." Said Lauren as I picked up Wyatt and she looked over Max who was holding his face as he lay on the floor. Max was okay.

I was trying to see any bumps on Wyatt's face but he was crying so hard his face was red and purple.

Then his nose started bleeding. A lot.

We packed on the paper towel and ice (as much as a 22 month old injured boy would allow anyway) and we eventually stopped the bleeding. The promise of and Ice pop quieted him down enough to get a better look. A broken nose is too diffcult to see unless it is really broken but Wyatt seemed okay.

We decided to take a break from the game we were playing.

Guess what game we were playing?



Guess?



It was the most violent game of Ring Around the Rosie I have ever played.

Father's Night

Last night was Father's Night at Maxfield's school.

These are the highlights from the evening.

Watching Max and his friend Nicholas discuss episodes of the Spectacular Spiderman and Max singing the theme song from the 1960's Spiderman cartoon for anyone who would listen.

When the teacher went around taking pictures of the dads and their kids for a project, (the kids made frames) Max and I made funny faces at the teacher. She told us that in her 15 years plus of teaching she has never had a picture like that.

Ice Cream Sundaes.

Max was running in the class room and the teacher corrected him. My jaw hit the floor as Max apologized and did exactly as the teacher instructed. That does not happen at my house.

Laying on the floor to read a book to Max and playing a game of "Steamroller" instead.

The teacher was reading a book to everyone about Dads. She would read the page, "My Dad can jump over the moon and can walk a tightrope." She would then ask the class, "Can your dad do that?"

Max would yell "My Dad can."

She read, "My dad is fast and run faster than the wind." She would ask the class. "Can your dad do that?"

Max would yell. "My Dad can."

He responded "My Dad can" to every question.

The teacher read, "My Dad is so strong he can wrestle Giants. Can your dad do that?"

Max responded, "No. My dad can't. Giants are too big and mean and I can beat my dad when we wrestle."

Torture

As I watch my two boys grow, certain answers to life's questions become clearer to me.

I think I now understand why older brothers will take any opportunity, for the rest of their life, to pick on their little brothers.

Wyatt is two years younger than Max and although Wyatt does not realize it at this time, he torments Max on a regular basis. Max will build a huge Geo-Trax railroad and Wyatt will want to help and step on the pieces and mess up the track. Max will build a big tower of blocks and Wyatt, thinking he is part of the game, will knock it over. Max will want to watch a show and Wyatt will stand directly in front of the TV blocking Max’s view.

But it is not these circumstances that will make Max, later in life, do his best to torment Wyatt. What I think has started Max’s brain storing potential ways to get back at Wyatt is the fact that Wyatt is still under the protection of his parents.

When Wyatt does something like knocking over the tower, Max will try to retaliate. But, nine out of ten times, Max is stopped by his parents with, “Max, Wyatt is just a little guy. He does not know better.”

And when Max knocks over Wyatt’s tower, Max is scolded and corrected with “Max you should know better. He is your little brother and you need to be nice to him.”

I understand that a four year old does not quite get this concept.

Max will eventually discover that a combination of Skittles and Kool-Aid makes the perfect gooey, sugary saliva combination for a gobbledygook torture. When he is older he will pin Wyatt down and Max will dangle a string of spit over Wyatt's face and he will slurp it back up. Max will do this over and over again as payback for all that Wyatt has done.

And now I can understand why it was done to me and why I did it to others.

Weakness

While playing superheroes, Spider-Man (played by Maxfield) discovered Swamp Thing's (played by Bill) weakness.

It wasn't Krypotnite. It was not the color yellow. It was not water or fire.

It was a swift punch in the nuts.

It is also the weakness of Solomon Grundy, Juggernaut, Magneto, Lex Luther, Dr. Octopus, Electro, Joker, Black Manta, General Zod, Two Face, Dr. Doom, and Sabretooth.

The Prom

I am trying to figure something out here and I need input.

There are lots of movies where the characters refer to their Senior Prom as "going to Prom."

The other night Lauren and I were watching TV and one of the people on the show said something about "going to prom".

Lauren turned to me and asked, "Why do people say going to Prom? We always referred to it as going to THE Prom."

I agreed. We say The Prom.

Now I am not sure if saying going to The Prom is a regional phrase, like "down the shore" is a regional thing instead of "going to the beach".

How do you say it? Prom or the Prom?

Meltdown Commencing...

...in...five...four...three...

Greatest Invention

I would have to rank the alarm clock, that my MIL gave us for Christmas, somwhere after Television but before the computer as one of the greatest inventions ever.

This clock can project the time on the cieling or wall so you don't have to actually roll over to see the time. This clock just made the act of sleeping, lazier. How cool is that?

Happy Easter

You know it is going to be a good night

...when your wife calls you at work and says, "I am sorry to do this to you, but I am having one of those days. When you get home from work, I need you to check the laundry tub. I think, no, I know it is clogged with poop."

Play

I have been cast in a play in a community theater presentation of the Philadelphia Story. I am very excited to be involved in the whole process, since I have not performed on stage in over 2 years. I am also very nervous.

I have lines to learn, blocking to remember and a character to develop. The show dates are in May. That may seem like a lot of time but the reality is, it is not. I also have work, a house that needs attention, a wife who I enjoy spending time with, 2 kids to play with and teach, a blog to write and Guilder to frame for it. I’m Swamped.

Rehearsals started last week. My friend Dave is directing. He has been recovering from cancer/chemo/radiation and it is good to see him out and about and doing the stuff he loves. I am also lucky enough to have some of my friends (Josh, Seamus, Beeds) also in the cast. Two nights a week I get to hang out with friends who, for the past few years, I may have only seen once or twice. I never realized how much I missed them nor how much I have missed the creative process.

One of my pet peeves about rehearsing is the fact that people I know keep referring to it as “play practice”. For some reason, maybe I am a theater snob or something, but I always correct them and tell then that I have REHEARSAL. I think that sounds much better than 'practice'. If you look up the words practice and rehearsal in the dictionary they pretty much have the same definition. But rehearsal just sounds more, I don't know, more important, I guess.

But now I have given this much thought. I am not really rehearsing anything. I get to go to the theater and pretend I am someone else for a bit. I get to make believe that the stage is a living room or some other area. I get to wear costumes and use props. I am not rehearsing. I am not practicing. I am playing.


If you are going to be in the Philly area the second two weekends in May, come on out and watch me play.

Screams in the night

Lauren woke me from a deep sleep, in the middle of the night.

"Bill? Bill?"

"What?"

"Did you lock the front door?"

"Yeah. I guess I did."

"Well I just heard someone outside yelling."

"Were they screaming 'Oh my God he has knife and is killing everyone'?"

"No."

"Then don't worry about it. Go back to sleep."

I rolled over and went back to sleep.

Candid Camera

A few weeks ago I took the kids to Wal-Greens to pick up some medicine. As we waited for the pharmacist to fill the prescription (which takes three minutes to actually get the medicine ready and ten minutes to complete the paperwork) we walked around the store for a bit. I navigated Wyatt in the stroller through the aisles when Max, a few feet in front of me, stopped dead in his his tracks. I followed his gaze to the cieling in front of us and saw he was staring at himself in a security camera monitor.

"Look Dad!" he said. "It's me and you and Wyatt on TV."

Max then proceeded to move his arms and jump to make sure that it was actually him in the monitor. Wyatt, then realized that he too was in the monitor, and wanted to get out of the stroller. The three of us stood in the middle of the aisle making funny faces and dancing and laughing. We caused quite a commotion for the other people in the store.

While we were carrying on I noticed that as I moved to my left, the person (me) in the montior moved to his left but to my (the real me) right. We each took turns getting closer to the camera and then walking away. We played for several minutes and I was fascinated watching my kids on the screen. Wyatt suddenly became bored with the dancing and and I watched him in the monitor walk down a different aisle to the right. I called him to come back but he did not.

I then turned to the aisle on my right and Wyatt was gone. I started to panic and I ran down the aisle, to the one that crosses, looked both ways, but he was nowhere. A little part of me freaked and I ran back to Max who was still watching himself. I called out for Wyatt but he did not respond. I yelled louder. Max and some other customers looked at me like I was nuts.

"He went THAT way Daddy." he said and pointed to the shelves to our left.

I turned to the left and there, ten feet in front of me, was Wyatt playing with some type wrapping paper.

Yes, I ran AWAY from my kid.

Stupid monitor thingy getting me all disoriented.


Side note: If you have little kids and want to keep them occupied for 20 or so minutes. Hook up your video camera with the AV cables to your TV or computer and let them watch themselves. I did this last night and it gave me time to do the dishes and clean up their toys.

Origins

Maxfield's fascination with superheroes has resulted in a change of our typical bedtime stories. He no longer wants me to read him Where the Wild Things Are or The Caboose Who Got Loose but instead wants me to tell him stories about how superheroes got their powers.

Over the past month I have covered every villian's and good guy's secret origin, with many repeats. When I tell the stories I try to keep away from any violence and I stress the positive aspects of the story. For some reason every character acquired their power because they worked hard, ate all their dinner, listened to their parents, did well in school, cleaned up all their toys and of course were caught in a Cosmic Rays/came from Krypton/bathed in lightning and chemicals etc. etc. His two favorite stories are The Flash and Spider-Man.

When telling him the Spider-Man origin I explain that since Peter Parker was such a good student he went on a field trip for school when he was bitten by the radio active spider that gave him his powers.

Last week Maxfield's preschool went on a field trip, down the block, to the local library. While walking back to the school one of the moms, who chaperoned, asked Max what he thought of the trip.

He replied, "It was fun but I did not get bit by any radio active spiders."

The other day, when Lauren took Max to school, a different mom told Lauren that Max asked the Librarian if there were any radio active spiders.

I was hoping Max would pick up on the "ate all their dinner and cleaned up all their toys " part of my stories.

Apparently not.

Hot Date

Many weeks ago Lauren's mom agreed to watch the kids on a Saturday night so Lauren and I could go out on a date for Lauren's birthday. We took her up on the offer.

It rained most of the day on Saturday but by the time Lauren's mom arrived at 5pm it had cleared up. Lauren and I were out the door by 5:30. We decided we would go to Doylestown. Doylestown is a quaint little town with lots of bars and shops and restaurants. We figured we could walk around, holding hands, and window shop and bar hop like we were young and in-love and without responsibility. Lauren loves live music and we figured we could catch a band at one of the cool haunts, after we ate and had a few drinks.

We parked the car at 5:50 pm and started to walk towards a group of shops. The sky grew dark and the wind kicked up something fierce. I saw a comic book store that was open and I asked Lauren if we could stop in for a quick second because I wanted to get Max a few comics. She agreed but I think it was due to the fact she wanted to get out of the weather.

We entered the store and were met with a half dozen or so lanky, rag-a-muffin, greasy haired, acne pocked, gothy teens. They were all sitting at tables playing some type of fantasy Dungeons and Dragons type of game. All of their heads turned towards Lauren because all of the sudden there was a hot chick in the comic book store and that only happens, like, well, like never.

Two tables back, sat two not so lanky, rag-a-muffin, greasy haired adults that were playing some type of fantasy game. I paused for a moment and soaked in the atmosphere. Although I never was the type to sit in a comic shop and play games I did collect comics for many years and I embrace my former nerdiness.

As I walked past the tables Lauren grabbed me by the arm, almost to use me as a shield, and followed. We made our way to the back of the store and Lauren said, "My Geekometer just went on full tilt."

I laughed it off. I wasn't sure if she was talking about me or the other patrons of the store. I think she was referring to me. I browsed for a few minutes and I found some comics that were appropriate for Max. The storm outside was coming on pretty strong.

At 6:04pm, I was paying for the comics when my phone rang. It was Lauren's mom. The power went out at our house and she did not know where to find flash lights or candles. Lauren hung up and sighed. We had to go home.

We spent Lauren's birthday date in a comic book store. It was Hot.

We did end up getting to go out later that evening, but just for dinner.

Bean Soup: 1982

Between the ages of 6 and 10 I did not eat dinner at the family table. Being that there were usually 11 people eating dinner, and we all did not fit at the table, my brother Lawnwhisperer and I sat in old wooden desks that were off to the side of the kitchen. We called them the satellite tables. We were truly the middle children, cast off and forgotten at dinnertime discussions. We had it good then.

The dinner table was of average size with a chair at the head of the table where my mom sat and to her immediate right, on one of the long benches, sat my dad. The rest of the kids sat on the bench with my dad or on the other bench on the opposite side of the table. My sister sat at the other head of the table. Somewhere around the age of 11, I was moved to the kitchen table. I never realized how good the satelitte desks were.

Since my dad and I were the only two lefties in the family, I had to sit to his immediate right to prevent any elbow bumping from anyone else. The problem with that spot, was, it was dead center of the table and was considered the “passing lane”. Anytime someone wanted something they asked me. “Bill Can you pass me the salt?” “Bill, pass the mashed potatoes.” “Bill, pass the ketchup.” This interrupted my eating every night on a regular basis. The passing requests started right after everyone had their first servings or after they had finished and wanted seconds. In an effort to enjoy my meals I usually ate very fast.

Eating very fast and being in the passing lane caused me lots of grief. We had a rule at our house; you had to eat everything on your plate. If you did not you had to sit at the table until you were finished. Some meals you could be sitting there all night. Most nights this was not a problem I was a pretty good eater. But some nights, like the Bean Soup Episode of 1982, I was in a very bad spot.

My dad loved bean soup, the rest of us, not so much. One night my mom made bean soup. We all had to eat at least one bowlful. Since it was bean soup I could not eat it as fast as I usually did. I finished about two thirds of my bowl when the passing requests started. My brothers wanted every, and any type of condiment to mask the flavor of the bean soup. I was so distracted passing the salt and pepper and ketchup back and forth that I did not see my brother Kevin empty the contents of his bowl into mine. Kevin asked to be excused and he left.

I started eating my soup some more so I could get up from the table. I was almost finished when the passing requests started again. I think my brother Dan, who watched Kevin, got my brother Dennis to distract my parents. As they were distracted and I was passing the rolls, they emptied their soup into my bowl. My bowl was full again. Dennis and Dan were excused from the table. I couldn’t say anything to my parents because most times my siblings and I had some kind of code about getting each other in trouble. I also did not want to be a tattle.

Slowly, everyone else finished and were excused, except for me and my brother Pat. Pat was always the last to finish, but on this particular night Pat finished before me. I sat at the table for what seemed like 3 hours trying to finish 4 servings of soup.

To this day, I still cannot eat bean soup.

Failing as Parents

Yesterday Maxfield had his 4 year old check-up at the doctor. They gave him the full rundown including a hearing and a vision test. He was so cute to watch as he tried to cheat on the vision test. He just did not want to be wrong and I think he had a small crush on the nurse and wanted to impress her.

He is at 90% for his height and 75% for his weight. Which is an "A" and a "C" and is not really honor roll material but we can work on bringing the "C" up to a "B" for the next time. I joke but, a child's physical exam is also a mental/emotional exam for the parents. Of course you want the child to be healthy but as the doctor asked us, the parents, questions I just hoped that we got all the answers right. It feels like the SATs.

Does he play well? Yes. Does he go to school? Yes. Two days a week. Does he eat normally? Well yes. Lots of fruits and vegatables? Yes. Oh of course. He loves his fruits and veggies. Since I said "Love" maybe he will get extra credit. Sleep Normal? Yes. In his own bed? Well yes. Since he was two. Again extra credit. Well occasionally he sleeps in our bed but that is only if he has a nightmare and maybe we should not let him, but you know. Is it wrong? I took too much time one on that answer. Just need to finish the test and go back to this one? Is he involved in any other activities? No. No? Should he? Maybe he needs to be more involved in other activities. We will sign him up for soccer and piano and pottery at the local art center if it means the doctor will give him a A on this exam.

I think there were few moments that Lauren and I actually looked at each other as if we were trying to "cheat" on the answers. We reallly want to succed as parents.

Everything checked out okay except for one area. We mentioned to the doctor that Max has been having some problems with the potty training. He was fully trained but then, a couple of months ago, he started having accidents. I call them "on purposes" because I think he knows when he is going to pee himself. It was and is getting to be very frustrating. The doctor explained that this is somewhat normal and that with all the stress over the past few months this may be Max's way of dealing with the stress.

Then she, the doctor, examined Max's belly and discovered that he is full of poop. So full, that we had to take him to get x-rays to make sure there are no serious issues. He passed his x-ray with flying colors (thats my boy)but is still full of impacted poop. The doctor explained all the hows and the why's and that Max's clogged bowels are causing him to have accidents. She then told us we needed to give Max an enema once a day for the next three days.

I went to the pharmacy and purchased three Children's Fleets enemas (the pharmacist did not appreciate my joke about having different flavors for children) and some stool softener.

Last night, with some degree of difficulty, some tears and wincing (I am not saying whose) we attemtpted to give Max some "heinie medicine". That was what we called it because he already had five booster shots earlier that day we figured he may be okay with one more, so to speak.

Lauren and I failed miserably as parents. I held him down, she inserted. Fluid from the enema bottle sprayed everywhere. She held him, I inserted. Again fluid sprayed everywhere. Whatever we tried we could not get the enema to work. He is either that impacted or Lauren and I are the worst enema givers in the whole world.

After fifteen minutes Lauren and I decided to wait it out and see if any of the medicine worked its way in. Max has still not gone.

Round two is tonight.

Sun Sneeze

Lauren and her mom were sitting on the couch under a window in the den. Wyatt was playing quietly on the floor and he looked up towards Mommom and the sun light, shining through the window, caught his eyes just right and it caused him to sneeze. He then looked up again and sneezed again.

Lauren's mom said something like "I hope he is not getting a cold."

"He is all right." I said "It was probably the sun that caused the sneeze."

She looked at me like I was a little off. "The sun?"

"Yeah. You know how when you walk out into the sun and it catches you just right it causes you to sneeze?"

She just looked at me.

I explained again.

She just just stared at me like I was nuts. "I have never heard of that." she said

I thought she was nuts. I thought the sun caused everyone to sneeze. I know it causes me to sneeze, it causes Max to sneeze and I guess it makes Wyatt sneeze.

Lauren spoke up at this point and called it photic sneeze reflex. Her mom never heard of it. I never heard of the phrase but I knew what it was.

I did some research online and I found out that Photic Sneeze Refelx is a genetic quirk that affects 18 to35 percent of the popluation.

I have thought my entire life, that sun light can make any one sneeze. I thought it was normal.

Lauren's mom, for her entire life, never realized that the sun can cause sneezes. She thought it was abnormal.

With this genetic quirk only affecting less than one third of the popluation Lauren's mom has been, all this time, correct about me. I am abnormal.

For scientific purposes I need to know, have you heard of this Photic Sneeze reflex? Do you have it? Do you know someone who has it?



Now a few people left some comments on this post (Susie, Mainline Mom, Crumb, Ali ) all equated a sneeze to an orgasm. I have Photic Sneeze Reflex. Jealous?

Waking up is hard to do

I am a pretty solid sleeper. I can fall asleep pretty quickly, get into a good REM and snore the rest of the night away (and by the way, people who snore do NOT snore on purpose. They do not say to themselves as they get into bed, "Man I hope I snore tonight. Because I really love the feeling of having my throat dry out and have it feel like sandpaper. And I can't wait until 3 oclock in the morning to have my wife yell at me. I love that." So you should not yell at them you should wake them gently. Lauren and I had this conversation early in our relationship and she wakes me gently or nudges me).

A problem with me being a solid sleeper is my inability to think straight if I wake up in the middle of the night. I have no problems in the morning, if I get five or six hours of sleep, just in the middle of the night. For instance, if Lauren tries to nudge me in the middle of the night to get me to stop snoring our conversation goes something like this:

"Bill, can you roll over?"

"You want an IRA roll over. A 1035 exchange?"

"No. You are snoring. Roll over."

"I love Rolos."

"Bill, no, you are snoring."

"I am not boring."

"Roll OVER."

"How many times?"

"Just once. Okay. Good. Go back to sleep."

Lauren, on the other hand, has difficulty sleeping and once she is awake she has a hard time falling back to sleep.

We have not used an alarm clock to wake us up since Max was born. Both Max and Wyatt are early risers. Early like 5 AM early. Most mornings I get up with the kids and I try to let Lauren sleep in a bit. Well, not really sleep in, but more like rest for bit. When Wyatt wakes up for the day I can hear him, over the monitor, jumping in his crib. That is my alarm clock. I can hop right up and go get him and start our morning routine of chit chatting, cuddling, making coffee and preparing his milk.

Some mornings Wyatt asks to see his mom and he snuggles with her for a few minutes before we start the day. Wyatt has been teething recently and has not had a good nights sleep in a while. Last week I heard him jumping in his crib. I jumped up and I went to get him. I was tired and little groggy, which is unusual for me in the morning. Wyatt and I chatted for a bit and I went about with our morning routine. We went downstairs and started to make coffee and milk. Wyatt was really irritable and was asking for his mom. I tried quieting him but it did not work.

From the top of the stairs Lauren called out to me in a loud whisper. "Bill?"

I walked to the bottom of the steps and looked up. "Yeah?"

"What the hell are you doing?" She whispered.

"Making coffee. What's up?"

"It is 1:00 in the morning."

"What?"

"It. Is. One. O'clock. In. The. Morning."

Dumbfounded I walked into the kitchen and looked at the clock. It was One AM. I carried Wyatt back upstairs and we climbed into bed. I handed Wyatt over to Lauren. She was up now and would not be able to fall asleep for a while. I went right back to snoring.

Like I said, in the middle of the night I am a bit loopy.

The worst part, I have done this three times in the past week.

Got Crabs?

Lauren finally cooked the free Thanksgiving turkey we received from Giant Food Stores back in November. Our meals have consisted of some type of turkey dish for the past 5days. Last night, using the rest of the meat, Lauren made turkey and dumplings. It was delicious.

I was never a big fan of turkey/chicken and dumplings. The dumplings I had as a kid always seemed to have the consistency of snot. While growing up I knew that my mom would make it at least one time a year for my brother Dan’s birthday. Chicken and dumplings was his birthday meal of choice.

We all had a favorite birthday meal that my mom would make for us. Sharon always chose Lasagna. I don't remember what Dennis would prefer. Kevin went with cheese steak and cheesecake. Dan, chicken and dumplings. Lawnwhisperer liked veal Parmesan. Peanut Butter and Jelly was Pat’s favorite meal. Michael wanted tacos. And I think for my brother Jim’s birthday, since he was the favorite, my mom and dad probably took him out to Outback Steakhouse every year.

My birthday meal of choice was chicken potpie. Since my birthday was in June my mom would always suggest hotdogs and burgers on the grill. I think I was the only one she ever tried to talk out of my birthday meal (yes I have middle child syndrome). I always did get my own personal potpie but everyone else had burgers. I like the tradition of birthday dinners.

Lauren’s personal favorite meal is crab legs. Whenever they are on sale or in-season I always make sure to get some for her. We actually had some right before Valentine’s Day. Eating crabs is always work but it is always fun. Max helped me crack the shells. When I say “help” what I mean is he held the little tools. He really enjoyed the whole process. Why shouldn’t he? I did most of the work and he got to eat most of the crab. I could not crack the crab legs fast enough for him. He really liked crab and I barely got to eat any.

So last night as I was eating my dumplings, thinking of my brother Dan and birthday meals, I asked Maxfield what he wants for his birthday dinner on Saturday. I was sure he was going to say chicken nuggets and fries or pizza. He thought for a moment and turned to me and said, “Crab legs.”

Lauren smiled and did a celebratory fist pump in the air. “Yes!” She said knowing that we would have her favorite meal and I am sure part of her glee was from the pride she felt that Max inherited some of her tastes.

Max will be four. A four year old wants crab legs for his birthday dinner.

“You know Bill.” Lauren said, “You may want to eat something else before dinner on Saturday. Otherwise you will be hungry.”

Shooting more than Webs

Hasbro has a line of superhero figures that are perfect for Maxfield and Wyatt. Max's favorite is Spiderman. The Spiderman figure we have came with a cool disk shooter thing that can be attached to the figure's back. We have, of course, lost all of the disks so Maxfield just says that it is a jet pack so Spiderman can fly.

The first picture is how Spidey is supposed to wear the back pack.


Max, being the creative boy that he is, tried to put the back pack on Spiderman upside down.
Max has decided that when the back pack is on upside down it becomes Spiderman's potty.
So now when we are in the middle of a big adventure of battling DR. Octopus and the Green Goblin, Spidey occasionally has to stop and as Max says "Go poopy on the potty." I guess something else besides the "Spider Sense" is tingling.


I find this hysterical and I added the paper for effect.

The Devil's cat.

I was sitting in the family room, reading a book, waiting for the new episode of Lost to start and Lauren was at the kitchen table, which overlooks where I was sitting, working on a sewing project. The kids were asleep. The cats were locked up and Luna, our dog, was out back. I was looking forward to a peaceful evening.

"Uh Oh" Lauren said. "I think Luna just got sprayed by a skunk."

I looked over at her. "Why do you say that?"

"I just heard her bark and I can smell it."

I stood up and walked the five feet to the kitchen. Lauren was sitting by the bay window that overlooks the back yard. I was smacked in the face by, what I thought at that time, was the most despicable odor I have ever smelled. Lauren said she heard a noise under the bay window. That must have been where the skunk was hiding.

"Oh No." I said and I went back to the family room to open the sliding glass door that leads to our screened-in porch. I opened the door and was smacked in the face by what I thought, at that time, was the most despicable odor I have ever smelled (and I just smelled the most despicable smell). "Luna!" I called out.

She came running to the screen door. I shut the sliding door behind me and walked over to the screen door and let her inside the porch. I leaned over and smelled her fur. And now, at that time I smelled the most dispacable odor I have ever smelled. Yep she got sprayed by a skunk. I knew I was going to leave her on the porch and as I tried to enter the house she tried to nudge her way past me. I grabbed her by the head and pushed her back.

I walked back into the house and our entire home now smelled of skunk. I would say it is was a "God awful" smell but I think that maybe a Skunk is like the devil's cat. The odor was pungent and putrid and Lauren and I both agreed we could taste it in the back of our throats.

"How do we clean her up?" I asked.

"Go look it up on-line." She answered. "Is she bad?"

"She does not look like she got it in her face but her coat smells horrible." I said as I ran to the computer and thank Google I had an answer fast.

"I need to run out to the store to get some peroxide and baking soda. I need to clean her tonight. I can't let her sleep outside. Its freezing." I put on my shoes and grabbed my keys and headed out the door. I thought the fresh air out front would be refreshing but the stink was still burning the hairs in my nose.

Ten minutes later I was standing in Walgreens Pharmacy looking for the materials I would need. I had to ask a young girl to help me find something and as she walked past me I could see her wince. "Holy crap!" I thought. "I smell like a skunk." I sniffed my hands. They weren't too bad. Maybe I was smelling a phantom smell. I sniffed my arms, my shoulders, my chest anywhere my nose could reach. The girl turned and looked at me like I was a crazy smelly lunatic. I must have gotten skunk on me when I pushed the dog back. I apologized to the girl and tried to explain myself but she just hurried away.

I took my basket up to the counter and,of course, at 9:30 on a Thursday night, is when EVERY ONE wants to shop at Walgreens. The people in front of me kept looking around and sniffing the air. The two people directly in front of me, kept looking back at me and making faces. I could swear that the guy at the check out counter, after I signed the credit card slip, threw the pen away.

When I got home the house still stunk. I put on some old clothes and some just purchased rubber gloves (I usually rent them . I have a lease with an option to buy*). I took off my shoes so they would not get wet and smelly. I made up the mixture of peroxide, dish soap and baking soda and I went out back onto the screened porch.

I scrubbed the dog for twenty minutes. My feet were soaked and numb from the cold. The instructions said to let the mixture soak in for a bit before rinsing it off. I went inside to warm up and I filled up two buckets of hot water to rinse the dog. The house still stunk. I waited the appropriate amount of time and I went back to rinse the dog. I poured the hot water slowly over her back. As the hot water hit the cold conrete floor, steam rose up into my face. The more water I poured, the more steam. Basically I was taking a skunk sauna.

Suprisingly the mixture seemed to work. Once Luna was rinsed she smelled more like wet dog than skunk.

Like I said before, a skunk has to be from the devil. I have never smelled anything as horrible as that sulfuric, pungent, nasty, burnt rotten eggs smell of a skunk spray. That's just how nasty it was. The smell feels like it has invaded my body to some extent, like I need to use Carpet Fresh on my soul.



*What movie is that line from?

Comment

I am a firm believer that if you want to be something in your life (doctor, chef, actor, writer, etc.) you should surround yourself with people who actually do what you want to do. I know it is easier said than done, but I believe it. Some of those things require college degrees and cerifications but by going to school for a specific career, by default, surrounds you with people of the same wants.

Once you are in the evironment of your path of choosing you can look at what you consider the best of people and try to emulate them or you can look at what you consider the worst and try to avoid being like them. Also, once you are in the environment, and surrounded by the best, opportunities to learn, get a job, find a mentor etc. , present themselves. If you had not been surrounded by the right people those opportunities most likely would not exist.

I think the same way when it comes to relationships. I know people that crave and want stable committed relationships but surround themselves in other peoples negative dramas that they can only take away negative vibes. Those negative vibes stick with them when they are dealing with their own relationships.

There is a positive and inspiring energy that comes from groups of people who share the same wants and desires. Don't believe me? Take a look at any political rally. Watch a sporting event.

Sometimes this energy can produce bad effects such as cults, terrorists, organized crime and the like, but when it comes to the simple pursuit of happiness of a carreer or relationship or hobby I always say, "Surround yourself with the best. There is nothing wrong with being the dumbest guy in a room full of geniuses."

I started Poop and Boogies, the blog, three years ago. At first it was a way to keep my family and friends, 1000 miles away, informed about my (Lauren and Maxfield's too) life in the Sunshine state.

Since that time P & B has kind of taken on a life of it's own. A large reason for that is the people of the Blogosphere and their comments that they leave here. I never realized that I would feel connected to people whom (or maybe it is who, I am sure Cat can tell me) I have never met.

From those comments I have clicked and clicked and clicked. I have found blogs that I like. I have found blogs that are not really my taste but are great. I have found blogs that are entertaining and humorous. I have found blogs that are sad but inspiring.

But I really feel lucky to have the comments. Thank you. I would like to say a special thank you to Anonymous Kevin and RZ Dreams who do not have their own blogs but have commenting for a very long time.

I know there are lurkers out there that read and do not comment and I am very thankful for them as well. Thank you.

But comments lead to other great blogs and by accident I find myself surrounded by great people.

One of the most fascinating things, to me, about the internet is the ability to "surround" yourself with the best by just sitting at your computer.

Here are some blogs that I consider the best ( I stress "some" because each week my "best" changes). They inspire me, entertain me and give off postive vibes.



Rude Cactus , What Was I Thinking, Klog, DWM, Truths and Half Truths, GreebleMonkey,



I'm No Belle, Eclectic, Bossy, My Circus Life, Doc Ern, Bogart , Nothing But Bonfires,



Oh The Joys, Creative Type Dad, Gigglepotamus (she's hot)

I Blame

I cleaned out the attic this weekend and found some old pictures.


I blame my mom, my sister Sharon, my brothers Dennis, Kevin, Dan, and John for letting me go to school like this, in the first grade, for picture day.



You would think someone would have told me that my bow tie was upside down.

The Way Eye Roll

Do you know how a good sneeze can be satisfying? You can feel the itch in your nasal passages and it builds and it builds and your neck and shoulders tighten ever slow slightly in preparation of the sneeze. Part of you does not want to sneeze, but you know that once you do there will be a moment of satisfaction and relief. And sometimes, maybe someone interrupts you, or the sneeze is not as cleansing as you thought and you think “Man, that totally was not what I wanted it to be.”

Do you know what I am talking about?

Do you know how a good yawn can totally make you feel better? Your body is craving the oxygen and you look forward to the stretching of the neck and mouth muscles and the refreshment of a deep clean breath. Then in mid-yawn someone stops you. Your yawn is interrupted. Like maybe your spouse sticks his finger into your open mid-yawn mouth as a joke (Lauren hates when I do that) and you are left feeling like you need another yawn but you know you can’t really make yourself yawn, so you sit there waiting.

The other day I was on the phone with Lauren. I was at work and she was home. I asked her if she knew where a certain photo was.

“No. I haven’t seen it.” She said.

“Well I took it from the side of the fridge and I scanned it. And I remember taking it out of the scanner but I don’t know what I did with it after that. I am pretty sure I left it on the desk.”

“Well,” Lauren replied “if you would have put it back where it belonged then you would know where it was.”

I paused.

“Go ahead Bill.” Lauren said. “Roll your eyes and sigh.”

She got me in mid eye roll and mid sigh. It doesn’t matter that she was six miles away and couldn’t see me. She knew what I was doing.

She interrupted a perfectly good sigh and rolling of the eyes. It felt like a stifled sneeze or a half yawn.

No satisfaction what so ever.

V-Alien-tine's Day

Last week I stumbled upon a book of how to make home made cards. The first thing I saw in the book was the idea for the card I made for Lauren for Valentine's Day.


You see? When you open the Alien's head it becomes a heart. Pretty cool.
The idea for the V-Alientine card came from the book, the rest of the words came from me.

I was going to write something like, "My love for you is outta this world." or "How about tonight, I wine you, I dine You and I Area 51 you." But I decided with the whole abduction and probe thing.

I also purchased a little something for the love of my life and I think it is a very romantic gift. I know she will use it.

Tonight I plan to hide in different parts of the house and she can see if it works.

Check Gauge

I never fill up my gas tank because my car is on its last legs. I would hate to invest 60 bucks into a full tank, just to have the car go to the junkyard. That is wasting 60 bucks and as my brother John says, I’m cheap.

I was at work, the morning that I got the call to get to the hospital right away. As I pulled out of the lot, the fuel light lit up in my Ford Explorer, indicating that the tank was close to being empty. I knew the hospital was about 10 miles away and I did not know what type of traffic I would hit. I needed to stop and get gas, because it would suck if I got stuck on the side of the road and not get a chance to see my dad before he passed away.

I stopped at a gas station, slid my credit card through the machine and pumped the fuel for about three minutes. Just enough gas to get me the rest of the way and to make sure that the fuel light was off. I found out through a phone call that my Dad had already passed away when I got the original call at work. I continued to pump more gas, because, now I felt empty.

That was six weeks ago. The fuel light has gone on 4 times since then. Every time it lights up, a wave of emotion hits me and reminds me that I am feeling empty.

When my grandmother passed away a couple of years ago, my mom and her sisters started to notice Butterflies in unusual places. There is a story behind the butterflies, which is too long to write here, but they all look at butterflies as a sign of their mother’s presence. It brings them peace.

My brother Jim’s very close friend, Toz, died in Iraq in 2005. I have been told the story (but I do not remember it exactly) that a Buck, a wild deer, came out of nowhere and watched the funeral procession. I am not sure of the significance, but there was one, and many people who attended looked at the Buck as a sign that Toz was okay.

I have read and heard other people’s stories of signs, dreams and other weird stuff that has happened after someone has died. I find them all fascinating and most of the stories all end with the fact that the living are now at peace with passing of their loved ones.

I still have not seen or found that sign that has brought me peace, or closure, or whatever I feel that I need, with my father’s death. I know I have plenty of great memories and I am blessed with the fact that I could consider my dad my friend but I keep looking for something else.

I know. I know. It will happen when I am not looking for it. But, right now, all I got is a fuel light blinking.

Secrets and Cheese

We were gathering up our stuff, getting ready to leave Lauren’s mother’s house, after enjoying a delicious dinner, when Lauren’s mom offered us some leftovers.

“Here, take this provolone.” Lauren’s mom said.

“No. You keep the provolone. We have plenty of cheese at home.”

“Well, I am not going to eat all of that provolone. You take it.” Lauren’s mom insisted.

“Mom, you can use the provolone for salads or whatever. What we are taking is quite enough.”

I listened from the other room and they said provolone like 30 times. Every time they said provolone it bothered me. Not the actual word but the way Lauren pronounced it.

Driving home I told Lauren to be careful on one stretch of road because cops always hide behind certain building to catch speeders.

“I know I see them all the time when I drive down here.” She confirmed. “You know I have only ever gotten one speeding ticket?”

“Really? When?” I asked.

“Back when I did that craft show in Jersey. The speed limit went from 50 to 35 in an instant. The cops just waited at that spot and pulled people over.”

She told me about how the cop stopped her and acted like he was doing her a favor by writing her up for a lower speed than what he thought she was doing.

“We were together back then. How come you never told me you got a ticket?” I asked.

“I guess I was embarrassed by it then.” She answered.

“Look at that. You keeping secrets from me after all this time.”

“Oh. I am sure you have some secrets kept from me.”

“Well I need to stay mysterious.”

I think she rolled her eyes and the conversation ended there.

This morning we were chatting and I asked her why she pronounced provolone the way she does.

“How do you pronounce it?” She asked.

“Provolone.” I said. “Like it is a professional volone.”

“Well, I prefer provolone.”

“How I did not know that? We have been together for ten years. You would think that it would have come up before.”

“I don’t know.” Lauren said. “I guess it never came up.”

“See. There you go again, keeping secrets from me.”

Line Please

Most Barnes and Noble stores, in the children’s section, have a little stage area. They use the stage area for Friday night story time, and crafts, and other events. When the stage is not being used for events, most times, you can find kids playing on or around the stage.

The stage is one of Maxfield’s hangouts whenever we go to Barnes and Noble. Much like his father, Maxfield loves being on stage. He may not have anything to say but he enjoys his time in the center of the stage. Sometimes he dances, sometimes he just talks and sometimes he just jumps up and down. Whether he has an audience or not, he has a great stage presence.

Last week at B&N Max had an audience. Seated at a round table, to the right, were four little girls probably between the ages of 5 and 10 reading princess books and such. Just a few feet away, in a little chair designed for kids, sat their mother. Max bounded onto the stage and spun around. The noise he made caught the attention of the girls and he noticed that the youngest girl was watching him.

Max, motivated by the attention, ran from one side to the other, all the while keeping an eye on the girl to make sure she was watching. He waved to the youngest girl and she waved back. Max giggled and hopped up onto the higher raised platform and from behind a column, played peek-a-boo with the girl. She laughed. The older girls looked up from their books to see what was so funny.

Now he had a larger audience. He leapt down. He spun. He waved his arms. He stopped dead center of the stage. Then, like his father, he seemed to struggle with what to do next. He seemed like he was trying to figure out what his next line was.

Then he smiled at the girls.

And then…then he farted.

He farted loud and long. The girls all started giggling. The mother looked up from her book, unaware of what happened, to shush the girls. They pointed at Max and as the mother’s eyes followed their finger she saw Max smiling back at her.

And as if on cue, now that he had another member of the audience, Max farted again.

Adventures of Max and Wyatt

When we last left our superheroes.....Spiderman was battling the evil Green Goblin.

"Poooooosshhhhhhhh." Spiderman said as he waived his arm. "I webbed you."

"I just used scissors to cut the web." Replied the older, more grey Goblin.

"Foooooosh. You are in a cage." yelled Spiderman as he jumped from the couch (even though he has been told numerous times not to jump from the couch).

"I just used an exploding pumpkin to break out of the cage. KabOOOm."

The Green Goblin rolled on the ground and grabbed Wyatt. "Now I am going to take Wyatt hostage."

"You better go and save Wyatt." Mommy said from across the room.

"I webbed you again. Now I am going to take Wyatt. C'mere Wyatt."

Spiderman grabbed Wyatt and then ran and jumped onto the ottoman which he is not supposed to jump on.

"I am going to throw an exploding pumpkin at Mommy." Cackled the Green Goblin.

"Okay." Said Spiderman completely content that Mommy may explode.

The Green Goblin laughed at Mommy.

"Aren't you going to save me Spiderman?" Mommy cired.

Spiderman rolled his eyes. "Okaaaaaay." He moseyed over to Mommy and half heartedly threw the pumpkin away.

" I am now going to be the Joker. You will be the Hulk." said Spiderman (I mean The Joker) without any respect for the DC Comics/Marvel comics continuity or crossover.

"Hulk Smash Joker with this rock." The Hulk yelled as he picked up a couch cushion like rock and threw it.

The Joker without batting an eye knocked the rock away.

"Wait a minute." said the Hulk. "the Joker can't do that."

"I am Super Strong Joker."

"I am going to take Wyatt prisoner."

"I just webbed you with a little hole for Wyatt to get out. "

"Wait a minute. I thought you were Super Strong Joker." Barked the Hulk.

"Now I am Spiderman."

To Be Continued...........................

Observation about myself

I don’t have a cause. I also don’t have clue, really, when it comes to other causes.

I know that most people, who champion a cause, do so, because of something or some event, has affected them.

I feel very blessed and fortunate to not have had too many serious illnesses or other ailments directly affect my life. Sure, cancer has caused me some hardships on a personal level. In the past year or so I have lost a very dear friend, my father-in-law, and my father to various cancers. I have a family member or two that are undergoing treatment of other forms of cancer. And I have another very close friend who is fighting even another type of cancer.

I have a few nieces who are afflicted with rare ailments that require special medical treatment that only comes from seeing special specialists that specialize in their particular disorders.

But again I still don’t have a cause nor do I have a clue. Ignorance is bliss. I am lucky to not have a cause. I never take this luck for granted.

But sometimes I don’t realize what other people have to deal with. And sometimes I don’t realize what other people do that may seem small but really are big.

Two things happened this past week, which totally made me realize how clueless I am.

My first ignorant realization happened at the super market. I was putting groceries in my car and I looked at the back of the car next to me. I saw that it had one of those magnetic awareness ribbons on the bumper. It was not yellow. It was not pink. It was multi-colored and looked like puzzle pieces. I have seen this ribbon so many times while in my car but never up close. I did a double take as I read it. AUTISM Awareness.

I swear (and I am not really proud to admit this) I always thought that those ribbons were a “mock” ribbon and they read AUSTIN awareness. The little puzzle pieces from 20 feet back, through a dirty windshield, kind of look like flowers. Any time I ever saw one I would say in my best Mike Myers impression, “Yeah Baby!”

Ya see? I am an idiot. Ignorant to other causes.

This past weekend, my friend Tara spent most of her Saturday, with her daughter, selling Girl Scout cookies. Trying to be a good friend, I went to her location and bought some cookies to support her and her troop. I figured I could spare a couple of bucks, get some cookies and help the local scouts. It would be my good deed. Tara was very grateful and thanked me like I was doing her a favor which, in a way, I felt that I was.

Later that night as I was enjoying my purchase of the cookies I had a second realization. As insignificant as Girl Scout cookies may seem in comparison to cancer or Autism, I was totally impressed that my friend Tara gives of herself in this way. I know that she is involved because her daughter is involved. But not only is Tara committing herself to her child but she is also committing herself to other people’s children at the same time. I don’t think that many of the people that were buying the cookies that day, realize that the women volunteering with their daughters were volunteering and contributing to many other children. I was not doing them a favor by buying cookies. They were doing my community a favor by volunteering. They should be thanked.

Thanks Tara.

I am not sure of the direction I was going with this post. Mostly I think that, maybe I need to “clean my windshield” more often become more aware of the people around me.

8 is the loneliest number

Think about it. Does anyone ever use the "8" button on their microwave oven? Are there any recipes that call for cooking something for 8 minutes? 8 Seconds?

I feel bad for the "8" button on my microwave. From now on I plan to re-heat my coffee for 48 seconds. Or cook my Spaghettios for 2 minutes and 38 seconds.


Lauren, my wife, who is busy working on her blog (yes she is starting a blog of her own) discovered this funny blog called Fail Blog. I do not like to promote negative vibes such as failure, but some of the posts are hysterical. My favorites are this one and this one.

Hero

Maxfield is at the age where he is discovering superheroes. As a recovering comic book addict/geek I could not be happier. If there were a topic, that I know a ton of information about, which I can pass down to my kids, it would be superheroes. I can’t wait to show him my wedding video and pictures.

Before his discovery of Spiderman, Superman and the Justice League, when I got home from work, he and I and Wyatt would wrestle, or play trains, or wrestle, or play trains, or wrestle. Now, when I come home Max’s first choice is to play Superheroes.

Max will tell me who he is, such as the Hulk or Spiderman and then I would have to tell him who I was going to be. Sometimes I am tired and I try to convince him that I am Nap-Man, or the Couch-inator, or Captain Lay on the Floor. He doesn’t fall for it and he assigns me my character.

Most times I am the bad guy like Doc Oc or the Joker. In my head, I am upset, because for my entire life I always wanted to be the superhero, but I play along and I let him tie me up with imaginary ropes as he throws laser beams at me.

Last night, Max decided that there would be a “pretend” villain and that he and I would be the heroes. He elected to be Robin and I could be “the guy that helps Robin”. As we played Wyatt Blue came into the room crying that Lauren refused him a snack before dinner. Max, in full superhero mode, ran up to Wyatt and asked if he was okay and told him not to worry because we were superheroes. Wyatt cried a bit more.

Max turned to me, and this is a moment that I hope I will not forget, and said, “What should we do, Batman?”

And for the next 20 minutes I WAS Batman.

Code Snuffleupagus

Sesame Place is a Sesame Street theme park located about 30 minutes from where I live. I have never been there nor do I know any one who has ever worked there.

This morning a guy I work with was telling me story about a friend of his who worked at Sesame Place.

To prevent alerting or alarming their patrons and guests to various situations at the park, the staff used code words over their Walkie-Talkies or over the intercom. Hence the whole "code" part of code words.

But these were the codes.

Code Elmo= Someone was bleeding and needed first aid.

Code Oscar= Someone vomitted and it need to be cleaned up.

Code Big Bird= Someone peed and it needed to be cleaned up.

These codes all make sense to me. I can visualize the use of the codes. The color of the character cooresponds to the type of situations.

Elmo/Blood.

Oscar/Puke.

Big Bird/Urine

Makes sense.

The guy at work told me that on the last day his friend worked at Sesame Place, they had a CODE SNUFFLEUPAGUS in the kiddy pool.

My guess is that it was like the Baby Ruth scene in Caddy Shack.

What keeps me up at night

There is nothing like a good snack. I have my favorites like Dorito’s and Cheetohs and occasionally I will dabble with other brands but I always take a critical approach to the different types of snacks and end up going back to my two favorites.

One of my previous snacks of choice used to be Pringles. How can you not like them? They have Wheat Starch and Malodextrin and Monosodium Glutamate and Disodium Phosphate. They come packed and stacked in a large can so they do not break. One can usually cost’s about a buck. Perfect snack.

However, there is a serious flaw with the Pringle chip. The design, or shape of the chip makes it perfect for stacking but it also makes for perfect fit over the tongue. I think this is genius.
However when they make the actual chip, the fine folks at Pringle add the flavoring to the wrong side of the chip. The salt, or the cheese flavor, or the pizza flavor, basically the stuff that gives the chip pizzazz is on the other side of the chip, the side that does not perfectly fit over the tongue. This makes no sense to me.

If I buy a flavored chip I want to be able to taste the flavor right from the get go. Why does Pringles put most of the salty goodness on the side of the chip that naturally fits against the roof of the mouth?

I know that Pringles does not really care about my measly opinion but if they added the flavoring to the tongue side of the chip they actually may move up from # 6 on my list of favorite snacks to # 2 or #3.

Turn On

She* purred as she wound down.

Satisfied, Lauren smiled.

With two kids it is not often that we get to have these moments. But both children were napping.

Lauren was afraid I would be too loud and wake the kids up. But I convinced her otherwise.

Normally when I have these moments, I do it too quick and I am satisfied. Lauren, however, is not.

But this time, I did it nice and slow. I started slowly. Nice long motions.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

I made sure I reached every spot. I took my time. Some times I got carried away and I moved too fast but then I would realize that I needed to finish the job and I would get back into a slow steady rhythm.

It became like a dance.

The more** I moved the better I did.

When I was finished, she* purred as she wound down.

Satisfied, Lauren smiled that the whole house was vacuumed.

*The Vacuum Cleaner
** Furniture

Crush

We received Maxfield's official pre-shcool pictures. He is quite handsome. We also found out that Max has a crush on someone in his school. Look at the picture, can you guess who it is?

Tip

This is just an FYI to anyone who may not know the difference, which I did not think was that big of a deal, but...well see the pictures.

The clothes hanger on the top of the picture is a pants hanger. The clothes hanger on the bottom is a shirt hanger. The two should not be confused.

Apparently, THIS is not how one should hang shirts.

Childs Intuition

When I leave for work in the morning, Maxfield usually asks me not to go. He'll say things like "read me a book" or "stay and watch TV with me" or "wrestle with me."

My response for the most part is "when I get home" or "Mommy can do that with you" and the exchange lasts 30 seconds and I leave the house without incident.

Over the past 6 weeks Maxfield has sensed there is something "wrong" in our house. I think he can feel the stress that both Lauren and I have been feeling. Since December 2 Lauren and I have been tag team parenting. One of us would walk in the door and the other would walk out the door to go to the hospital or to get shopping done or to handle other family obligations. The stress that Max feels has been manifesting itself in more temper tantrums and more "accidents" of wetting himself. Now that our house has settled down somewhat, he is doing much better.

Two weeks ago, I was leaving for work and Max asked me not to go. He begged me to stay. I gave him my usual answers but they were not good enough.

"Daddy, I don't want you to go. Stay with me. Please."

"I can't pal."

He put his arms around my neck. "Daddy. Please stay and play with me."

As I hugged him I sat on the couch with him and I rocked back and forth a bit. I slowly pried his arms from me and I said "I can't Max. I will play when I get home."

Max started to cry. He had never done this before. He was not crying from a tantrum. These were not angry tears. He was crying from sadness.

"But I don't want you to go daddy. I want you to stay with me." He said as he wiped away tears. "Please stay here and take care of me."

"Max I can't." I said as I hugged him.

He hugged me back tight and his requests became more intense. "Daddy, I am going to miss you. Please stay with me. Don't go. I need you."

"I gotta go Max."

"I want you stay, Daddy. I will miss you."

This exchange lasted 5 to 10 minutes.

Looking back, I realize that Max sensed something, I don't know what, but something. Because a few hours later I was using Max's words and saying the exact same thing.

Now with a Herpes free kitchen

We started renovating our kitchen back before Thanksgiving. Work in progress story is here.

Time was not our side with various and many trips to the hospital to visit with our fathers, Ray and Skip.

Lauren was determined to have the kitchen finished by Christmas since we were hosting her family for dinner.


The day of Ray's Funeral, the Friday before Christmas, Lauren and I were talking to her uncle and cousin about how much work was needed on the kitchen. The kitchen was only half done and Lauren wanted it to be finished that weekend.

I tired to talk Lauren out of completing it because we had so many other things to do before the holiday.

"Bill, the backsplash is not up and there are so many little things we need to do." Lauren insisted.

"I think our guests will understand with all the circumstances we have faced lately." I said and looked to her uncle and cousin, both who I have only met a few times, for confirmation.

"I just want it done." Lauren said.

"Well, I think they will understand." I said. "It's not like we can't have people over. I mean, it's not like our kitchen has Herpes."

Then I got puzzled looks from everyone and that is where the conversation ended.

The kitchen was 95 % completed by Christmas dinner.

Before.
In the questionable condition, yet without herpes.

95% complete.

Still only 95% complete.

Truth Hurts

"Lauren, would you still find me attractive if I was bald?"

"Why?"*

"It's just that over the past few weeks, when I take a shower, I have been noticing a lot of hair in the drain catcher thing."

"Really?"

"I think I am losing my hair and you know how vain I am about my hair."

"It is probably just a combination of body hair and a little from you head."

"No. I think it is pretty much all from my head."

"Really? Darn!"

"Why? You won't find me attractrive as a bald man?"

"I just know that you could stand to lose a little hair from your back, is all."**



*Notice she did not answer the question.
** Again, no answer to the question.

Wyatt Determined

A sincere thank you to everyone for your well wishes, thoughts and prayers.

Skip

1 person called him husband.
1 daughter called him dad.
8 sons called him dad.
22 children called him Pa (Grand Pa).
9 people called him Father-in Law.
7 people called him Brother.
28 people called him Brother-in-law.
10 people considered him GodFather.
44 people called him Uncle and to another 30 plus he was Great Uncle.
7 or so people called him Business Partner.
Hundreds at one point called him coach.


And to Thousands and Thousands he was a Role Model.

My Dad, Skip, the man who coined the phrase "Poop and Boogies", died on Wednesday.

I could go on and on about him but that is pretty much what Poop and Boogies the blog is about. If you get a chance, go back and look through some post's about him and let me know which is your favorite one. I would list them but I don't have the time. Just do a blogger search.

As much as Poop and Boogies is a tribute/testament (I am not sure of the word) to my Dad, it is also as much as testament to my Mom (MomO9). Because for as much as anyone looked to my Dad to be their rock, their mentor, their Role Model, my Dad looked to my mom to be his.

Over the past week, from the time my dad went into the hospital, I got to witness some incredible acts of kindness, patience, strength, endurance and love from my brothers and sister and my Mom.

I also consider my self lucky and blessed to have been a part of that because there were moments of real sadness but there were also moments of absolute hilarity and laughter that only my siblings and Mom are capable of doing.

I don't think Skip would have wanted it any other way.

A sign someone is Fat (or Lazy)

I was sitting and talking with some of my brothers when one of them started to tie his shoe. My brother Dan watched and said to the one tying his laces, "You're fat."

We all laughed and agreed with Dan but then Dan told us the reasons for his assesment. You see Dan's wife, Rachel, has a theory on shoe laces and people with too much belly. Now this may be a theory that other people know but it was the first time I ever heard of it and I thought it was hysterical.

The theory is this. People who are fat in the gut area lift their legs up and cross them over their knee to tie their shoes. This causes the knot, to be tied closer to the inside of the foot.

Most people who are in shape, bend over to tie their shoes and so the knot is in the center of the shoe. See the pictures for examples.


In this picture the shoe on the left is knotted in the center. That indicates a thin person. The shoe on the right was tied by lifting the leg onto the knee. This is how people with big guts tie their shoes.

Closer look of the knot tied closer to the inside of the foot.

The above picture demonstrates the fat lazy way of tying shoes.

Now today, while you walk around your office or home, look at your co-worker's or husband's or wife's shoes, or just observe people on the street, take notice of how they tie their shoes and remember Rachel's Theory of the Gut Knot.

Me, I will be out buying loafers.