Frankie Pickle

I have been to my fair amount of art shows. I figure I have paid my dues and there is no need for me to ever go to another one. When Lauren asked me, Saturday morning, if I wanted to go to the Tinicum Art Festival that afternoon, I don't know what possessed me to say yes. She even asked with the stipulation that I don't rush her through the displays, vendors and artist's showcases, like I usually do, and I still said yes.

I read on the website that there would be entertainment for the kids as well as some local author/illustrators who would be signing books. I was interested in meeting two of them; Rich Egielski, a Caldecott Medal recipient, and the other, Eric Wight, an accomplished comic book artist.

The festival was fun. The kids enjoyed meeting a monkey, the live music, the food and the swings. I kept telling them we had a swing set at home and there was no reason for us to travel the 45 minutes just so they could swing on the swings but that did not matter to them. I also tried the same kind of argument with Lauren telling her we have artwork at home and there was no reason to travel 45 minutes to look at other artwork, but she reminded me that I was not to rush her.

Eventually we made our way to the author's booth and I was pleasantly surprised that both the Caldecott winner and Eric Wight occupied the booth at the same time. Eric was signing his new book Frankie Pickle and the Closet of Doom. I introduced myself and made small talk with Eric and I tried to get Maxfield and Wyatt engaged in the conversation. I threw a question at Max which I knew he knew the answer.

"Illustrator." Max said.

Both Eric and the Caldecott winner raised their eyebrows as though they were impressed with a 5-year-old knowing the word "illustrator". I then asked Max to tell the authors his full name which he responded "Maxfield". I told them his named was inspired by Maxfield Parrish. Eric smiled and said he thought that was pretty cool.

Rich, the Caldecott winner, chuckled and said "That's great." He pointed to Wyatt and asked "What the little guy's name? N.C. ?"

I smiled and said " As a matter of fact his name is Wyatt. Inspired by N.C. Wyeth."

Both author/illustrators thought my kid's names were cool. Where else besides an art festival would other people actually get the inspiration behind Maxfield's and Wyatt's name?

I made small talk with Eric about his book and I decided to buy it. He was funny and a decent guy. I was feeling all artsy, hip and cool hanging out with and talking to writers and I mentioned to Eric Wight that I had a blog and that maybe I would review Frankie Pickle and the Closet of Doom.

"Oh that would be great." He said. " I will give you my business card and maybe we can set up an interview."

I took the business card and then I...then I ...I got cold feet. In my head I started to panic. I got really nervous. I was thinking Interview? What kind of questions would I ask? I would totally sound like Chris Farley on SNL. I am so not cool and hip. A published author was asking me to interview him? What the? He must think I am with Huffington or something. Wait until he finds out my blog is called Poop and Boogies.

I froze. I said nothing. I thanked him for his time. I mumbled something about emailing him. I shook his hand and I left.

I caught up with Lauren and told her about the exchange and me suddenly getting all nervous. She laughed and said, " I think you may have another man crush developing."

************************************

My review of Frankie Pickle. I bought the book on Saturday. I have read it to Maxfield three times. He has requested that I read it more. That right there is an excellent review.

Frankie Pickle is a chapter book that switches between comic pages and prose to tell the story. The comic pages are used when Frankie is using his imagination and the prose for when he is in the "real" world. The style of Eric Wight reminds me of a cross between a Calvin and Hobbes comic and the stories of Henry the Explorer, which are my favorite books from when I was a kid.
The characters, artwork and story are perfect for kids ages 4 to 10. I really have fun reading Frankie Pickle so I guess it would be perfect for a parent too.


So if I do get a chance to interview him what questions should I ask?

Nothing Itches

Lauren and I were married Seven years ago today. I am still amazed that someone as beautiful as this...

...married me.

I am also amazed at the stretching capabilities of spandex and how the costumes fit the groomsmen.

Holes

I need a little help with a certain observation I have made.

I am just going to come out and say it. My boys love holes. The second one of my boys discovers a hole, not matter what the size, shape or type they immediately have to fill it by shoving something in it.

I'm pretty observant of my kids and how they play. I am very observant about what they find interesting and fascinating. My boys have always been captivated by holes. If they find a hole in the backyard they have to prod it with a stick. If they see an opening in the bottom of a clay planter they have to stuff it with leaves. If they find a depression in the wall where there once was a nail, they instantly have to stuff Wolverine's claws in there. They are constantly sticking things in holes.

When my boys play and interact with other kids I try to watch and see if the other kids behave the same way my kids do. I have 10, or so, nieces and nephews that Max and Wyatt see and play with on a regular basis. My kids also get together with various friends through out the week. Sure some kids prefer sports over action figures and there are differences from how girls and boys play, but for most I am always on the lookout to make sure my kids do the same things that other kids do; that my kids are not weird.

So far, I have noticed that my kids are not weird when it comes to holes.

My observation, the one I need help with, is this: All boys love holes and have to stick stuff in them. Girls not so much.

Please let me know your thoughts. Am I off base with this? Do you agree? Is it the Y Chromosome? Or is it just that my boys are weird?

The Need to Feed.

This weekend at my family's annual 4th of July/Mom's (Momo9) Birthday celebration I found myself saying something I never thought I would say.

There were about 25 kids at the party. Maxfield and Wyatt were distracted by all the things to do while at my brother's house, like Wiffle ball, a sand box, horseshoes and 23 other kids to play with that they did not want to stop to eat lunch. I know that when my kids have empty stomachs they are 78% more likely to have a meltdown. I kept asking them to sit and have a sandwich or some fruit. They both refused and I let it go because they were having a great time.

Sometime around mid-afternoon I could tell that my kids were getting a bit irritable and I thought it had to do with them being hungry. I told Max and Wyatt that they needed to stop playing and sit down and eat something. They both put up an argument as I lead them to the food table. I knew if they did not eat there may be meltdown. Most of the lunch items had been cleared and so I offered them what was available. They both put up a fight. They wanted to play.

And that's when I said, "Look, you are going to sit down and eat these brownies and Snow-cones and you are going to like it!"

Sleepy Stories

Now that Maxfield and Wyatt are in bunk beds I cannot read them bedtime stories anymore. They both want to look at the pictures and, quite frankly, I don't have the strength or stamina in my arms to hold the book out in their direction while reading, plus I can't read upside down (I always admired teachers who could). So now, I have to just tell them stories. Once they are settled into their beds I will lay on the bottom bunk with Wyatt to say prayers and tell stories for about 5 to 10 minutes.

I have run through all of the classics such as the Three Bears, Three Pigs and Jack and the Bean Stalk. I have told them every origin story of every super hero that I know. I was quickly running out of ideas. I started to make up stories each night but after a long day and finally getting a moment to relax, being creative was a struggle. I decided it would be best for me to tell the kids the stories from my youth. I would tell them quick stories about Johhny Socko and the Giant Robot. I told them about Sigmund and his friends Johnny and Scott. I dazzled them with Steve Austin fighting Bigfoot.

One week, each night, I told them (the best to my recollection) the cliff notes version of the first couple of episodes of Starblazers. After the telling the story of Derek Wildstar, Nova and the Gamilons for 15 minutes I would start to fall asleep. I have a bad habit of talking in my sleep and being somewhat delirious. I would continue babbling for a few minutes only to have the kids wake me up so I would continue the space opera. I would have no idea where I drifted off in the story and I would need Max to recap for me.

"I'm sorry. I drifted off. Where was I Max?"

"The Gamilons attacked after Gopher and Captain Stuben fired the wave motion gun at Pluto's moon." Max told me.

I was groggy and wasn't sure I heard him."Who fired the wave motion gun?"

"You said Gopher and Captain Stuben but I don't know who they are. And Dad who is Mr Rourke?"



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GoodNites is still running their Special Bedtime Moments contest. If you enter the contest you have a chance to win GoodNites Bedtime Kit which includes a $100 gift certificate to Pajamagram.com, a $50 gift certificate to Borders as well as a blanket, journal, and tote bag from GoodNites. See image of prize on this post.

Contest Rules: Go to SpecialBedtimeMoments.com and share a special bedtime moment shared by you and your family (can be a story, tip for getting kids to sleep or rundown of your nighttime routine). You can enter again if you would like. Make sure you leave a comment here that you have entered the contest for a chance to win the tote gift bag.
The winner from my last post in June is Charity.

Disclaimer: I have partnered with GoodNites for this series of posts; I am being compensated for writing about my family's bedtime routine and for promoting this contest, not for endorsing a product.

My First Car.

My first car was a 1976 Ford Granada which was the color of rust and gray primer paint. It's two door body was practically made of rust, compound putty and wood filler. I bought the car, a month before I turned eighteen, for 300 bucks. The lady who sold it to me told me it needed some work. I made sure I had some extra money to pay for a paint job but I knew I would need to do the sanding and repairing myself.

The first repairs I made to the body were to ensure it would pass state inspection. I patched all the holes in the driver side floor and made sure that the roof stopped leaking. I tore out the largest areas of rust on the exterior and filled them with mesh wire and putty and Spackle. I covered the front of the car in a coat of gray primer. As a joke, but also because I knew I was going to do more work on the car, I spray painted black bats on the doors to give it the Bat-mobile feel.

I drove the "Bat-mobile" around for a little while, fully intending to finish the work on the car, until I was in an accident. While cruising down Route 309 another car clipped my front bumper on the passenger side. There was no real damage except that my bumper stuck out about a foot and half on the driver's side. I knew the car would not pass inspection with the bumper jutting out so I stopped working on the car.

One day my dad asked why I stopped the work and I told him about the bumper. He laughed and told me to pull the car into the driveway, angle across the front yard and back up so that my car was perpendicular to the driveway with the drivers side facing the street. My dad then got into his station wagon, backed up the neighbor's driveway across the street, looked both ways and then gunned it. He crashed his car into my car. Right on the bumper, pushing it back about 18 inches and almost perfectly into place. I drove the Bat-mobile around for the rest of the summer, knowing I would complete the paint job before I drove it to the community college in the fall.

A couple of weeks later my passenger side window shattered. I stopped working on the body of the car because I needed to save up and buy a new window and window motor. I used a trash bag for a window for the rest of the fall and most of the winter. Most people at the community college ended up knowing me from my one window Bat-mobile. I was the kid who marched to the beat of his own drummer and people could not help but be curious. Soon I was more social than studious and I did not do well at school.

I decided I would have to get a job and I applied for a position at Prudential. I told myself if I got the job I would get my car painted. If I was going to be working in an office and acting professional I would have to get my car to look professional. I got the job. I drove the Bat-mobile to work everyday. I replaced the window with money from my first paycheck. People who pulled into the parking lot at the same time I did every day, recognized me as the kid with the Bat-mobile and they would call me Batman. They were curious and would ask questions. Most people appreciated that I was a different and that I "would actually drive around in a car like that". I liked the attention I was getting. People knew who I was.

I was doing really well in my position at Prudential and the department manager seemed to like me and was putting me on the fast track for promotions. One of the reasons he liked me was due to the fact that many people throughout the building were familiar with me. He could not quite put his finger on it but he liked my "networking". He liked that I "thought outside of the box". He did not realize that I did not network, people just talked about me and the car and when they could they would ask me about it. I did not think outside the box, I just did not care what others thought of me.

The department manager caught wind of the Bat-mobile and called me into his office in May of 89. He explained that although it did not matter to him what kind of car I drove, if I were to move up in the company I may have to travel and he asked me what type of impression would my car leave on clients. My answer was that I would introduce myself to clients as Bruce Wayne and I would tell them that I fight crime at night. He did not seem to get my joke and I then told him I planned on changing the car in the next month or so.

June of 89 Tim Burton's Batman hit the theaters. It was wildly successful. It was now cool to like Batman. In one weekend my car went from being a cool, hip, conversation piece to being a fad. In one weekend I went from being a free thinking, different, quirky, cool dude to a trend follower who was a little too infatuated with a movie. People stopped asking questions. They stopped looking at me like I was cool and started to look at me like I was weird.
I drove the Bat-mobile for a few more weeks when the engine seized. I don't think the car could handle that it was no longer cool.

Always Someone Cooler

Recently I read an article about how "old" people are ruining "new" inter-net sensations like Facebook and Twitter.


The article explained how "Kids" today are upset with the fact that their parents are signing up for Twitter and Facebook accounts. Twitter and Facebook was the playground for the youngsters and they are annoyed that mom is trying to "follow" or "friend" them. The article claimed that both Twitter and Facebook are gaining popularity with the Baby Boomers and the 35 plus demographic and that is a demo that advertisers want. It is only a matter of time before the kids find a new inter-net hangout.


I read the article to Lauren and we joked that once something becomes mainstream it is no longer "cool". She laughed and said, "I felt the same way about grunge music. Nobody listened to grunge at all except for me and a few of my friends. Then, one day, it is all the rage and I felt robbed of good music."


I nodded in agreement. "I felt the same way when the movie Batman came out in 89. All of the sudden everyone is a Batman fan. It became cool to like comic books. I felt robbed of a good super hero."

Lauren laughed and she kind of gave me a look that could have been sarcastic and patronizing. "Uhmm. Yeah. Like that." She said.

Apparently I am not as cool as I think.

MLT

Twelve years ago I met Lauren. Twelve years ago was our first date.

Twelve years ago I fell in love. I am still falling.

She is better than a nice MLT- a mutton lettuce and tomato sandwich where the mutton is nice and lean and the tomato is ripe...they're so perky. I love that.
Also twelve years ago I used Just For Men on my goatee.

Changes

I have been working on trying to get eveything lined up for the new look of Poop and Boogies. By working I mean I have called two people; one to design the look and feel of the blog and the other person to do the installation. I am treating this process kind of like how the recipe of Krispy Kreme donuts is handled, not one person has all the ingredients/recipe, that way it is a big secret.

Before I work out the final details I wanted to see if anyone who reads this blog has any suggestions or recommendations. I am looking for feedback. If you would be so kind, could you answer a few questions for me?

1. What other blogs do you read? Why?

DOS. As far as overall look and feel (design) what are your favorite blogs?

Trois. How do you get to, or read Poop and Boogies? Do you come through Facebook? Twitter? Do you have it bookmarked or linked? Google Reader? Or subscription?

Fore. How did you find P & B? Was it a link in someones sidebar? Did you click on a comment or link in some one's post?

V. What kind of stories do you like to read here? Funny? Serious? About my kids? About my childhood? What would you like to see here?

Rocky 6. What don't you like about this site?

7. Would you recommend Poop and Boogies to a friend? If so would you feel weird telling your friend to go read Poop and Boogies? Seriously, you are at a bar with your buddy or at the water cooler at work, would you be able to say "Poop and Boogies" with a straight face? If yes, please tell your friends to visit.

Saving Body Parts

Lauren and I were talking about the boys playing with their toys.

"I was playing with Max and Wyatt, with their guys, and I was amazed that they just want to keep smashing the guys together."

"I know. Wyatt's fingers kept getting hurt."

"I guess it is a boy thing. Bill, can you do me a favor?" Lauren asked. "When a toy breaks, just throw it out. You know, if it is broken beyond repair."

"Sure." I said.

"I keep finding broken toys."

I know. I have habit of saving all the broken pieces. Then I forget what they go to and I hold onto them. I end up carrying the pieces in my pockets for days hoping to discover what they belong to. As soon as I throw out the little piece, the very next day I realize what toy it went to."

"Well, for now on, just throw the stuff out." Lauren said.

She then added, "Tomorrow I am going to go through their figure box and look for all the miscellaneous body parts."

This is a picture of the current contents of my pocket...

...and miscellaneous body parts.

Content

Lauren took this picture of her and Jackson. It is one of my favorite photos. I don't remember Max or Wyatt being thumb suckers.

Kid Libs

There is a way of speaking about/to kids that only a parent can do. Talking just a little bit louder than normal, stressing the kids name to get their attention, then leading the conversation down a path, with dramatic pauses, so that the kid will try to fill in the blanks in the line of the conversation. This usually happens when one parent is trying to tell the other parent about the days events. Well, I think of these conversations as Kid Libs; like a live version of Mad Libs.

There are two versions of the Kid Libs. When something good has happened, the parent builds the story stressing positive words and uses a slightly higher pitch when describing the events. The result is met by the third party in the conversation giving praise.

Example-
Mom: And then after Wyatt ate all of his lunch, he even ate his carrot sticks, he went into the bathroom all by himself and he_________


Wyatt: Went pee on the potty.


Dad: Yay. All right! Give me a high five.


The other version is when something bad happened. When it is bad the parent speaks in a straight monotone voice, stressing bad events or negative words in a loud whisper, where the dramatic pause is sometimes preceded by a question in the hopes the child will admit to the crime or mistake to the third party.


Example-
Mom: After I told Wyatt he could not have dessert because he would not eat his chicken, he threw his fork, stormed into the living room and then proceeded to, what did you do in the living room? He took a crayon and he_______


Wyatt: Drawed on the coffee table.


Dad: You know you are not supposed to do that.



I love when the Kid Libs end in unexpected results.

Where a good story becomes even better.

Mom: Max was so helpful today. He helped me change the baby's diaper and he helped with dinner and he helped with______

Max: Mommy's workout. We did sit-ups.

Or when a good story ends up in throwing Dad under the bus.

Dad: The boys were so good in the store this morning. They were well behaved. They helped put the groceries in the cart and they even helped_______

Max: Dad eat a bag of Cheetos on the way home.

Sigh

When Max broke his Femur he stayed in the hospital for two nights. Before they would release Max he had to meet certain physical criteria (like fitting into a car seat and wheelchair) and Lauren and I had to meet with various hospital staff members to learn how to care for the broken leg.

One of the parental requirements for release was for us to watch a 20 minute video on hip-spica casts. Lauren watched it the day before and I was required to watch it the day we were meeting with the physical therapist and other staff. The video was a typical cheesy hospital production of the "dos and don'ts" of care giving for hip-spica cast. Part of the video explained that although movement is limited with this type of cast it is important for the patient to lay in different positions to prevent bed sores and itching. The video instructed us to use pillows and bean bags and other things to position the patient. It also showed people with this type of cast in all various positions.

Later, the woman physical therapist, the female nurse, Lauren and myself were going over all the release papers. The physical therapist was going through a checklist to make sure all criteria was met. Car seat-check. Wheelchair-check. Pillow-check. She then asked us if we had seen the video.

"She watched it yesterday." I said pointing to Lauren. "And I just watched it today."

"Which one did you see?" Asked the therapist.

"I am not sure what it was called." I said.

"There are two videos and I need to verify you saw the correct one."

And this is the moment that I say things that I shouldn't say in public.

"I am not sure what the title was but the video I watched was like the Kama Sutra of hip-spica casts." I said.

The room became silent. I could hear each of the women's eyeballs shift from side to side looking at each other as if asking "did he just say what I think he said?" but not wanting to admit to knowing what the Kama Sutra is. Awkward.

And in typical fashion in these circumstances, Lauren sighed one of those sighs, which from where I stand sounds like a mixture of embarrasment and disbelief that she married me with a hint of "here we go again."

Lord's Prayer

GoodNites has offered me an opportunity to host a contest. If you enter the contest you have a chance to win GoodNites Bedtime Kit which includes a $100 gift certificate to Pajamagram.com, a $50 gift certificate to Borders as well as a blanket, journal, and tote bag from GoodNites. Something like this.

Contest Rules: Go to SpecialBedtimeMoments.com and share a special bedtime moment shared by you and your family (can be a story, tip for getting kids to sleep or rundown of your nighttime routine), along with a picture. (My brother Anonymous is totally snickering right now).

Copy the URL of your shared bedtime moment from SpecialBedtimeMoments.com and (the URL copy may not work so please copy and paste your story in my comments) or tell me which story is yours (to let me know that you participated). In a few weeks I will pick the post that I liked best and announce the winner. I will have the same contest two more times between now and mid August.

Disclamier: I have partnered with GoodNites for this series of posts; I am being compensated for writing about my family's bedtime routine and for promoting this contest, not for endorsing a product.The Lord's Prayer
I put Maxfield and Wyatt to bed every night. Once Max is settled in the top bunk I lay down next to Wyatt in the bottom bunk and we say prayers. I try to start off the prayers by asking the kids what we are thankful for that day. After we thank God for the “Back Yardigans”, “gummy worms” or “the black Spiderman” we go through a list of family and friends and ask for blessings for them. Sometimes we add a couple of special blessing requests for people we know who are sick or need some extra attention from the big guy.

We always finish our prayers by saying the Lord’s Prayer. I usually start the prayer and the kids repeat after me. Every night I crack up at Wyatt’s version of the Lord’s Prayer. He either repeats what he thinks I said or whatever is on his mind at that particular part of the prayer. What follows is a compilation fo the various things he has said during the “Our Father.”

Our Father

Our Father

Who art in heaven

Who draws art in heaven

Hallowed be thy Name.

Hallowed be YOUR Name

Thy kingdom come

Thy kingdom come

Thy will be done

Thy willby done, Dad who is Willby?

On Earth as it is in heaven

On Earth and in Uncle Kevin

Give us this day

Give us today

Our daily bread

Our daily bread with butter

And forgive us our trespasses

And forgive us our tresspassesesseses

As we forgive those who trespass against us

I am not going to say that part. Who is Willby?

And lead us not into temptation

And lead us into temptation

But deliver us from evil

And deliver us our evil

Amen

AAAAAAAmen.

There are nine other bloggers who are participating in this contest. The Blogger who sends the most readers who post on SpecialBedtimeMoments.com can receive $1000.00 in children’s books to donate to the charity of their choice. I think I would donate the books to the SPCA because I believe that if dogs and cats could learn to read they would not need to be placed in homes. They also could probably go out and get jobs and be productive members of our society. Then I realized that the job market is pretty rough right now and we would not want some felines taking what jobs that are available so I would most likely donate the books to a children’s Hospital (not a hospital run by children but one that treats children) or maybe a needy school.

So go and post and leave me a comment.

Super Day

Wyatt Blue turns three on June 11th. If you are new here you can read his story here and here and here see early pictures here and here.

Most three-year-olds have two identities. Wyatt does as well. One is sweet and funny and innocent and affectionate and the other is dark and moody and stubborn and yelly.

He is the middle child and I know it will give him a complex. Happy Birthday Wyatt Blue.

Cease and Desist

I received a letter from the Intellectual Property Counsel from Campbell's Soup. In a nut shell they are asking me to change my blog header so the casual reader is not misled into thinking that Campbell's is associated or endorses my blog. They also want to make sure that there is no misunderstanding from the casual reader that there is an actual flavor of Campbell's Soup called Poop and Boogies.

At first I was a little worried because I am not sure where the law stands on parody and trademark. Then I was all "Big company trying to squash the little guy and his little blog too. This is an outrage!" But then I realized I was actually happy that Campbell's has discovered my blog and that they expressed concern with the header. I just hope that the people there are reading and enjoying my posts.

Actually, the Intellectual Property Counsel at Campbell's' have been very nice and I understand their concerns. They even suggested a few simple changes to keep the header somewhat intact but not so close to their trade dress.

So, where does that leave me? Well, it is time for a change. I am just not sure what kind of change. Do I do a complete overhaul? Do I just change the header? I don't even know how to do this stuff. This is where I need help.

I want to stay with the food motif but I am not sure what kind of food label. Any suggestions? Does anyone who reads Poop and Boogies work for a food company that will actually endorse my blog? Will they pay me? I already tried Frank's Hot sauce, which is my favorite, but they declined (they sent me coupons though).

Does anyone know anyone that can help with an overhaul? How much does something like that cost? I want to stay with Blogger because the idiot curve leans in my favor but I don't know the first thing about html or design or interfaces and flux-capacitors.

How do you suggest I change the site? What would you like to see? Please help.

Memory Lane

I have been either thrown-up on, spit on, or peed on at least once, every day, for the past 16 days.

It kind of reminds me of the time I used to work in an after hours nightclub.

Cooking with Poop and Boogies

I enjoy cooking. Most weekends I cook dinner for the family and I usually like to experiment with different ingredients. I will get an idea for some type of meal and I normally do not look up recipes. I try to wing it. Two weeks ago I tried to make fried avocados and I thought I would share my experience.

Fry some ground spicy sausage in a pan, as it browns chop it to make it into small crumbles.

Dice one mango, one red pepper, half an onion and a few slices of cucumber. Mix it all together throwing in a pinch of orange zest and a splash of lemon juice. You want the consistency to be that of a thick salsa. Mix in the ground Sausage.

Slice avocados from top to bottom and remove pit. Use a spoon to make the divot left by the pit a little bigger on each half of the avocado (this is where the salsa/sausage goes after it is fried). Use a spoon to scoop the meat of the avocado from the skin making sure to leave most of the avocado intact.

Mix one raw egg with a little bit of milk in a bowl. In another bowl combine a dash of cumin, cayenne pepper, and garlic salt to some breadcrumbs.

Heat some oil in a frying pan.

Dip and roll the avocado halves into the egg and then into the bread crumbs and make sure it is evenly covered.

Out of the corner of your eye, through the kitchen window, watch your five year old fall from the monkey bars. Out of the corner of your ear, hear your wife yell for you to come out to the back yard. And hurry. Wash the raw egg off your hands, turn off oil on stove and run out back. Listen to the five-year-old scream. Debate whether child is actually injured or just faking it because he heard you were having fried avocados for dinner.

Have wife tell you she heard something break. Tell five-year-old to "shake it off". Have wife tell you again she thinks something broke.

Take your five-year-old to local emergency room and be told they have to transfer him to another facility. Run home a few hours later to check on other kids and to get stuff for an overnight stay. See the ingredients to the fried avocado sitting on counter, in raw egg, for the past few hours and dump them all in the garbage.

If you follow the last part of the recipe it should end up looking like this.

Extended Family

Over the past few weeks I have had five nieces/nephews make their First Holy Communion. I have attended each of their parties celebrating the event. When attending these types of large family parties I always seem to forget that extended family will be there. The extended family I refer to is the In-laws to my brother(s) hosting the party. Their mother and father in-law, various brother and sister in-laws, nieces and nephews and aunts and uncles that are of no direct relation to me are in attendance. I always seem to forget their names and I know, for the most part, they forget mine. I always seem to get a little bit of social anxiety in these situations.

The last time most of Extended In-laws and I met were at the wedding of the mutual family member.

Since I have 7 brothers, at these big parties I sometimes get, "Which one are you? You were so funny at the wedding when you guys roasted (insert brothers name)." Or maybe they say "Bill? Or is it Dan, right? Were you the one that said that -Bulson push-shove thing/The groom's got big balls./The groom has three nipples./Joan thinks we are getting naked- at (insert brother's name) wedding?"

I then introduce myself and have to admit that I don't remember most of my brother's weddings and that most likely I did not say any of those things. It usually ends with an awkward moment of me not remembering the Extended In-law's name and I take a long extended sip from my beer in the hopes that my silence forces them to say something else.

Anyway at these recent parties, over the past few weeks, I decided to take a different angle to those Extended In-law conversations. I now admit to saying those things at the wedding. I then say the most off-the-wall somewhat offensive comment I can think of and then introduce myself as Kevin.

It has been working great. My brother Jim's, John's and Dan's In-laws all think Kevin is a little strange.

Junkie

We have been a video game free house. Not by choice or design, because I love video games, but more because the kids never showed interest or asked for any types of video game system. Then Max broke his leg. The very generous people at my job all chipped in and bought Max a Nintendo DS.

I wished I would have video taped the past three days of Max and his DS. The recording would have provided a documentary on the early signs of addiction. I Googled "signs of addiction" and they include the following.

*Extreme hyperactivity and excessive talking
*Change in overall attitude/personality
*Loss of interest in things that were important before
*Loss of interest in family and friends
*Unexplained silliness or giddiness
*Difficulty in paying attention and forgetfulness
*Lack of motivation
*Unexplained moodiness and irritability
*Defensiveness/temper tantrums.

Maxfield is totally addicted to the DS.

In other news the Signs of Addiction also describe the typical behavior of three year old.

Parental Love

When each of my kids were born I could tell that I had a certain amount of, I don't know what to call it, I guess instinctual love works, for them. I knew that I loved them from somewhere in the deep recesses of my mind and heart but I never felt that certain connection or bond right from the get go. I think part of the reason for that is that I did not feel the love from my kids right from the start. I know that may sound wrong but that is how I felt. I felt the need to protect them and nurture them but that reciprocal part of the relationship just wasn't there. Lauren nursed each of the kids so they didn't need me.


I didn't feel connected to Maxfield until about he was about 6 months old. Sure, I loved him more and more each day, but it wasn't until his personality developed that I could feel his affection and need for me that I truly experienced the love that a father can have for his son. It was also about the same time that Lauren stopped nursing.

When Wyatt was born, I became Max's best friend. Lauren spent more time with Wyatt and I spent more time with Max. My attention and time was focused on Max and it took at least 9 months for me to feel the father connection to Wyatt. Although he was still nursing he became more independent and his laugh and attitude made me completely fall head over heels.

Now with Jackson my time and attention is now split between the two older boys. My focus is on taking care of them, knowing that Lauren is taking care of Jackson. I was sure that I would not feel the bond between us for a much longer time. I was wrong. For some reason, with Jackson, it was around the three month mark where I came to fully appreciate my love for him. Maybe it is due to Max and Wyatt interacting with Jackson more and Jackson is giving back quicker than the other two did. Maybe it has to do with the fact that I am more calm and patient as a dad. Maybe it is due to the fact that I am finally getting this parental love thing down and I can recognize Jackson's personality and needs of me quicker.

Lauren is nursing Jackson and maybe the reciprocal love is due to the fact that a few years ago I was in better shape and now I am starting to get man-boobs and Jackson is just confused.

Bloody Murder

"What's wrong!?" My mom would bark from the bottom of the steps in response to the scream that came from the upstairs hallway.

We would all go suddenly quiet in the upstairs hallway and give the collective evil eye to the brother that screamed.

"Nuthin." One of us would reply from the top of the steps making sure to stay close to the shadows so mom might not recognize the person responding.

"What do you mean 'Nuthin.'?" Mom would ask. Which would then be followed up with "Someone is screaming bloody murder up there."

In the upstairs hallway, heads would snap in an accusatory way towards the offending screamer. Silent whispers of "I told you to be quiet" or "It's your fault" would be directed at each other.

The offender, also clinging to the shadows, half leaning down the steps, would apologize.

"That's enough!" Mom would say without ever clarifying enough of what.

We would wait a few minutes, laugh at the person who was scolded, and go back to our our game of hallway tackle football or our steel cage match. The offending screamer was not hurt but was most likely cheering at a touchdown or a perfect Greg Valentine Figure Four move. If someone was ever actually hurt, required stitches, broke a bone, what have you, we would never scream. We would all be quiet in an effort to cover up the incident; including the brother that was bleebing. Quiet and brothers usually mean someone is hurt. The quieter the bloodier.

Our screaming bloody murder was never really murder.

I never understood the phrase screaming bloody murder. When I was eight, I thought my mom meant that someone was actually screaming the words bloody murder. When I was twelve, I thought my mom meant she wanted to murder someone after hearing the scream. When I was sixteen I thought my mom was trying to be British but without the accent.

Now? Now I get it. Maxfield will scream like he is being fed into a wood chipper if Wyatt knocks over a Lego building. Wyatt will wail, as if he was getting scalped with a hatchet, if Max stands in front of his view of the TV. They both scream like they are being murdered.

Bloody murder.

I appreciate the phrase. I get it's meaning, but since I was once one of the people screaming, I know that 99 percent of the time screaming is not the result of injury or something serious.

No, I try to listen the long moments of silence to know when something is wrong. I will call up from the bottom of the steps. "What's wrong?"

"Nuthin." Max will call from the hallway upstairs.

"What do you mean nuthin?" I say. Which I then follow up with,"You guys have been quiet for 5 minutes now. Who is hurt?"

Celebrity

I kissed Lauren and the kids and I told them I would see them at home in a few minutes. I ran back into the Chuck E. Cheese to get a jacket that I left at a table covered in pizza and cake and presents from the party we just attended. I was a little frazzled. 90 minutes in Chuck E Cheese with a bunch of 5 year-olds will do that. I said goodbye, again, to the birthday boy's parents and headed towards the door.

A woman, who was not with the birthday party I just attended, stepped in front of me.

"Excuse me."she said. "Are you Poop and Boogies?"

I did not recognize the woman. I looked over my shoulder to make sure she was talking to me.

"Uhmmm. Yeah? That's me. I'm Bill." I shook her hand.

"I'm Erica."

Erica told me she recognized Max and I from the blog and that she thought she recognized my wife Gigglepotamus. I asked her if she knew me and Poop and Boogies from someone else, like a friend or relative of mine. She said no. She said she found P&B a couple of years ago through Nilbo's blog and she has been reading ever since. I was flattered. Erica told me she started her own blog a short while ago.

I looked around to see if any of the parents from the earlier party could hear my conversation. I do not keep the fact that I blog private but I don't really advertise it to other parents either; especially the parents of Max's friends. I tried to think if I wrote any stories about the other parents at the party. I realized I hadn't and felt more at ease. Now, I did not care if the other parents heard that I was recognized for my writing. I have to admit being recognized is good for the ego. I felt a bit cocky and was kind of hoping that they would overhear us talking.

Another woman approached and Erica said. "This is my sister Kristy. She reads the blog too. Kristy this is Poop."

That's right. She introduced me as Poop. Now I was hoping that the other parents could not hear our conversation.

They told me they read P&B everyday and that they enjoy it. They were very nice and it was great to meet them. Erica was very funny. Again, I was very flattered and I felt like a small celebrity. Then they told me that due to their Internet security at work they only have access to very few sites and P&B is one of the "four or five sites that gets through the firewalls".

Basically, reading P&B is better than staring at a blank monitor.

I wonder what the other four sites are?

Mean Lady at the Church

I took this picture on Saturday May 2nd at about 11:46 AM. At the bottom of the picture is Wyatt and his cousin Valera playing nicely in the pew in front of me and Valera's mom (my sister) at their cousin's First Holy Communion.

2 Minutes Before That -My sister and I were still fighting some serious church giggles.

3 Minutes Before That-My sister and I start fighting some church giggles at the thought that the people in the pew in front of our kids probably think that Wyatt and Valera are my sister-in-law's kids. We wonder if our sister-in-law is mortified since it is her parish.

2 Minutes Before That-My sister and I start laughing at the fact that we are the Godparent's of one of the 1st Holy Communion recipients. What kind of example are we setting.

1 Minute Before That- My sister and I start laughing. In shock, but laughing.

1 Minute Before That-My anger passes.

30 Seconds Before That-I contemplate how many Hail Marys and Our Fathers I would have to say for committing the action I was just thinking about a minute ago. In Church.

1 Minute Before That- I want to smack the lady in the orange top (in the picture) in the face for treating my kid that way.

2 Minutes Before That -The woman in the orange shirt in front of Wyatt and Valera, in the most hag-like, nasty, witchy way, without warning, turns to Wyatt and Valera, who are two and 4 years old, gives them the evil eye and hisses, "SSSSHHHHHushhhhh." louder than the volume in which Wyatt and Valera were talking. She was flat out mean. Nasty. Shocking.

3o Seconds Before That- Wyatt turns to Valera in a surprised voice and says "I just heard it again. Where did that come from?" They giggle.

5 Seconds Before That - The second ringing of the Sanctus Bells.

1 Minute Before That Wyatt hears the ringing of bells and says in a surprised voice "What was that?" He and Valera start discussing where the bell noise came from.

2 Seconds Before That-The first ringing of the Sanctus Bells.

5 Minutes Before That-My sister makes a comment about how good Wyatt and Valera are behaving in church. I make a comment about how pleased I am with Wyatt's behavior.

15 Minutes Before That-Wyatt does not like sitting with me and moves to the pew in front of me where he can sit with Valera and my sister-in-law and her kids.

5 Minutes Before That-Wyatt finishes all of his distraction snacks and juice.

3 Minutes Before That- We watch the procession of the children making their 1st Holy Communion. My God daughter is the prettiest one.

8 Minutes Before That- My sister and her daughter Valera arrive. My sister sits next to me and Valera sits in the pew in front of us with the other children.

2 Minutes Before That- Wyatt is slightly antsy but behaving himself in the crowded church. He has a new book and sits quietly next to me in the pew.

6 Minutes Before That- Wyatt and I sit in a pew directly behind my sister-in-law (my brother Anonymous' wife) her children, her sisters and their kids.

30 Minutes Before That- My sister-in-law gives Wyatt a new book for him to look at when we are in church.

One Thousand Nine Hundred and Seventy Six Years(give or take a couple of years) Before That - Matthew and Simon the Zealot get a serious case of the "Last Supper" giggles. No one shushed them.

Some Time Before That -"And they brought young children to Him, that He should touch them and heal them: and his disciples rebuked them."

"But when Jesus saw it, he was much displeased, and said unto them, "Suffer the little children to come unto me, and forbid them not: for of such is the kingdom of God."

Dictionary dot com's definition of Rebuke.- Verb-to express sharp, stern disapproval of; reprove; reprimand.

I don't think the the lady-in-orange knows this, but she displeased Jesus. Wyatt and Valera were angels and merely having a conversation about the service which is what I think church should be like for children. I know she was trying to be reverent and all holy roller like by trying to shush kids in church but she was just downright mean and nasty. I wonder if I did smack her if she would have been reverent and holy and turned the other cheek.

Jackson's Story

My wife, over at Gigglepotamus, finally posted her story of Jackson's birth.

She left out the part about how awesome and supportive and handsome and funny her husband was the during the entire event.

Book Reviews

There are two books I have been reading and I think both of them deserve some type of review.

The first book is Morning Drive by Michael Smerconish. Smerconish is a Philly based talk radio personality who, in my opinion, gives the most fair, honest and entertaining views on politics and current events. His new book, with the subtitle "Things I Wish I Knew Before I Started Talking", is not only about politics, his positions on certain issues but it is also about how he came to his positions by researching all sides of the issue. The book is also, somewhat of a revealing, insider's take on talk radio and cable news shows.

Smerconish, on his show and in the book, unlike other talking heads, is not afraid to admit that there is more than two sides to every issue (as Michael Scott from Dunder Mifflin would say "I looked at this 100 different ways. Their way, my way and 98 other ways.). Smerconish makes it clear that most talk show hosts and guests will take a (politically speaking) Right/Republican side or Left/Democrat side to an issue on any given show.

I look at politics and political issues the same way I compare colors; it all depends on the light. In one light, gray looks more dark and the exact same gray in a different light looks lighter. For any political issue, news or current event it all depends on who is shedding the light on the topic. Smerconish's Morning Drive does a nice job of shedding the right amount of various lights on each topic and he is honest that the issue is still "gray".

I think what is understated in the book is Michael's drive. From a young age Michael had the drive to get what he wanted. In the book I think he tries to pass off some of his accomplishments as Karma, but I think it was more his determination to be involved, to find the right answers to be the best that he could be that landed him where he is today. His drive to be a lawyer, his drive to be a radio host, his drive to get the right people to talk to. It is understated but it is there.



The second book I have been reading is The Man's Book, The Essential Guide for the Modern Man by Thomas Fink. This book is BRILLIANT. Funny for any man and some woman. The book is a "How to" guide for things like the proper way to tie a tie and how build a tree house and it also has various lists of things that every man should know like the best movies for a man to watch.

The book states that Fink, the author, is a theoretical physicist. The book is full of scientific and mathematical equations on how to determine a woman's beauty or how one should pick a urinal when having to go pee. Fink includes his equations for the geeky/nerdy readers.

The book is broken down in easy to read chapters with sub-sections for each man category which makes the Man's Guide the perfect bathroom book, which in itself, makes sense. I was disappointed that the film Uncommon Valor did not make the 50 essential films for men list but other than that the The Man's Book is an excellent gift for Father's Day or Husband's Day. What? You never heard of Husband's Day...well no one else has either (Husband's Day is not in the book, it my invention) but I think a bunch of wives should get together and organize a day that celebrates husbands.

Lullaby

I try to let Max and Wyatt listen to music as they fall asleep. I try to stay away from songs with lyrics so the kids do not lay in bed singing along. Normally I play some instrumental Baby Einstein stuff or some CD that claims "your kids will be smarter if they listen to this" type of classical music. I do think the CD made Wyatt smarter because he learned at a very early age how to open the CD player and toss the CD across the room.

Lauren, on top of her many talents, has an excellent singing voice. Wyatt and Max prefer to fall asleep to the sounds of Lauren singing Ben Folds songs and request her to perform every night. I get a little jealous that the kids never ask me to sing to them. That may have to do with the fact that I can never remember all the words to songs.


I recently discovered this music by Sunflow. The music is perfect for kids and as a parent I love the fact that the songs are easy enough for me to learn and try to sing to the kids myself. Here is my favorite song from the CD. I wish you Love. I sound nothing like Sunflow when I try to sing the songs. Max and Wyatt seem to like the CD but have no problems telling me I should not sing and they request Lauren.

The past few nights I have been sitting in on her rendition of Lullaby by Ben Folds and I totally understand why the kids prefer her singing over me.

I am still jealous.

Illegitimate Children

I have been making arrangements for Jackson's baptism. I wanted to register with St. Johns, the parish that I belonged to as a kid, and I needed to finagle a paper work switch with the parish where I am supposed to go. I called the rectory at St. Johns and I spoke with Father R. and told him of the registration switch. In an effort to facilitate a quicker move Father R. asked me to register over the phone with him until the proper paper work made it's way to his office.

Father R. asked for the basic info such as address, family members, D.O.B etc. etc. He then wanted some background information about which sacraments I received.


Baptism-Check

First Penance-Check

Holy Communion-Check

Confirmation-Check

Marriage - well this is where it got interesting.

When father R. asked about the sacrament of marriage I explained that Lauren and I were not married in a Catholic Church. I did tell him we were married by a Catholic Priest we found on the Internet who left the priesthood to start a family.

Father R. then advised me that there was a good chance Lauren and I were not legally married. He told me of some local recent court cases where ex-priests who officiated wedding ceremonies were never legally registered with the state. He asked me if I would like to have a service at the church to bless my marriage and make sure it was all documented. I told him I would check with Lauren and let him know. Father R. urged that I investigate the legality of my wedding documents. Legally, he said, my marriage may not be recognized by the state and that my marriage is not really recognized by the Catholic church.

I, of course, could not let this opportunity for a joke go to waste and I said, "Are you saying there is a chance I am not married? You mean that I am single again. Woo hoo! Easy way to get rid of the ol' ball and chain. You know what I mea...I guess...uhmm you wouldn't....never mind."

He did not laugh and again suggested that me and Lauren to set up a time for a marriage blessing service.

We then got back to discussing dates for Jackson's baptism. We talked about the Godparents and requirements and whatnot and every time Father R mentioned Jackson's name I had to fight the urge to refer to Jackson as "that Little Bastard".

This may be chauvinistic...

...but it is my belief that if the manufacturers of washing machines intended for men to do laundry they would have made the machines with one switch with only two positions; on and off.

Torture

Recently the US government released some documents regarding the CIA interrogation techniques used on prisoners of war at Gitmo. I was a little disappointed with their list. Most of the techniques resemble some hazing stunts that fraternities would use on new pledges during rush week.

If they want to extract information from these enemy combatants I really think that CIA guys need to think outside the box. Doesn't anyone in the CIA have kids?

If I ran the prison here are a few techniques I would use.

Have the prisoner sit in a room with 5-year-old who is trying to learn to count to 1000. The 5 year old gets stuck and makes a mistake at about the 220 area. The five year old, since he messed up, then has to start over from the beginning. The prisoner cannot be released from the cell until the child reaches 1000.

The prisoner sits at a table with a two-year-old, a plate full of vegetables and an Easter basket filled with jelly beans and chocolate. The prisoner needs to convince the child to eat the vegetables.

I would put the prisoner in a room with a five-year-old and a two-year-old and huge box of Legos. I would force the prisoner to help the 5-year-old build some huge Lego truck or something. Just as the project is finished I would have the two-year-old step on it. I would repeat this 4 or 5 times. If the prisoner does not succumb to the frustration of having to rebuild the truck over and over again he most likely will break from the crying and the screaming from the 5-year-old every time the truck is smashed.

These are just a few of my suggestions. I am sure some of you may have an idea or two. Please share.

On the wall

I was cruising through Facebook stuff and I saw someone, a friend of a friend, more like a Facebook acquaintance (which I really think Facebook should add that as category) post on someone else's Wall about a family member that went something like this.

"Sally having a tumor in her stomach and having an operation and it not working. Sally was such a good girl and didn't deserve this and...." A very sad post.

I do not really know this Facebook acquaintance, nor do I know Sally, but I felt bad for them. I hate reading sad stories about sick kids and I logged out before reading any more of the posts about Sally. Sally's medical condition hung with me the rest of the day and I felt really sad for her and her family.

Later that night I wanted to find out the whole story about Sally and I surfed through Facebook trying to re-trace my steps from one friend to another trying to find Sally's story. After about 30 minutes of searching I found the person that posted about Sally and finally discovered that Sally was the family dog. I felt so much better. Then I got a little ticked that, throughout the day, I wasted so much emotional energy thinking about Sally.

A damn dog.

I know there are a lot of dog people out there who may not agree with my sentiments and who feel that dogs are part of the family and that we should worry and sympathize and empathize with animals. But you see, I am not one of those types of people.

I really think people need to rethink naming their pets the same names as people. Good dog names are like Shadow or Checkers or Moto or Biscuit. If I read a sad story about a name like Mugsy than I would kind of know it was about a pet of some kind and I could go about my day without feeling bad.

Just like when I write a story about Wyatt peeing on the rug or Max eating food off the floor you know that I am talking about humans right?

Q-Tip Study

So you are going to clean your ears and you grab a Q-tip, are you the type of person that turns on the faucet and wets the Q-tip end with the tap water?

Or are you the type of person that puts the Q-tip into your mouth and rolls it on your tongue to moisten the end before you insert it into your ear?

Natural High

If Wyatt had his way he would be naked all the time. I know wanting to be naked is normal for a kid his age. Wyatt is most happy when he is naked. What I find funny, and I can't post the video here, is the dance and song that goes along with him being naked. The song is more like a chant than any actual words.

The other day I called the house to talk to Lauren and I could hear Wyatt singing in the background.

"Is Wyatt naked?" I asked. "It sounds like he is singing his naked song."

"No. But he was just a few minutes ago."

Being naked is a like a drug to Wyatt. The freedom from clothes changes his disposition in seconds. If he is angry or sad or hurt or in the middle of a meltdown the promise of being naked "for a couple of minutes" instantly makes him happy.

Sometimes when we are out at the store or mall and Wyatt acts up and throws a temper tantrum I am always tempted to just let him "be naked for a couple of minutes" just to calm him down.

So if you see a naked toddler running through the super market...

Guns and the Tooth fairy

Maxfield has a friend, Johnny, who lives up the street. Johnny comes to our house to play and they are, for the most part, somewhat supervised. I say somewhat because sometimes the two five-years-olds will go to Max's room to play with cars or action figures and neither Lauren or I are actually in the room where they are playing. I know the boys are safe in Max's room and that there is really nothing upstairs that could harm anyone. I know because it is my upstairs.

Max has been spending more and more time playing at Johnny's house. Johnny's parents are always home when Max is there and I have to assume that the boys are somewhat supervised. Johnny's parents are real nice people and they seem to have good instincts when it comes to their three kids. I can only guess at the "good instincts" part because I am only recently really getting to know them, but my gut tells me they are good people.

I am always paranoid when Max is not home with us and my thoughts and fears get the best of me. One day, while Max was at Johnny's house, I asked Lauren if she thought that Johnny's parents would own a gun. I explained my fascination with guns when I was kid and that I think to some extent little boys are drawn to weapons. I worried Max would be the same as me and that there was potential for danger. When I read or hear about children and firearm accidents it makes me sick to my stomach. I see and understand why people may own firearms but I know that I am not comfortable around guns and I will not have one in my house. * One day, when I feel Max is old enough I will have my friend DC teach him about gun safety but until then Max will know very little about the danger of guns.

My favorite line I have ever heard anyone say about guns was said by a guy I knew named Croke. He worked security with me in the nightclub business and one night while we were patting down patrons and checking for weapons a club-goer said to him "Don't worry, there is no need to check me. I don't believe in guns."
Croke laughed and said, "Don't believe? Listen buddy, guns are not like the Easter Bunny or the Tooth fairy. Guns DO Exist. So you better believe I am going to check you."

So yes, I believe in guns. I believe they exist. I know they exist.

Lauren did her best to calm my fears but she did think, that maybe, I should ask Johnny's parents if they had a gun in the house. I told her I would ask them when I went to pick-up Max that afternoon. I told myself I had a right to know if they had a gun because my son was there a lot.

As I walked the 5 houses up to Johnny's house I had a change of position. I was not going to ask them about guns in their home. I had no right to ask them. Sure I could ease my own worry about Max's safety but in reality where would my questions stop. If they did or did not own a gun I am sure there were other things in their house that could harm Max. Was I then going to ask them if there were any prescription pills in the house that Max could mistakenly think were PEZ candy? Taking medication could kill him just like a gun could. Was I going to ask them how far from their kitchen counter's edge they kept their kitchen cutlery? Max could have a fatal accident with a sharp object. Or should I ask if they cut all of their blinds strings down to a size that could not strangle a young boy. Was I going to ask in the future how much alcohol the parents drank in the event that one of them may eventually take Max in their car to get ice cream and wrap their vehicle around a tree? Drunk Driving is another serious way of harming someone. The possibilities are endless.

I never did ask them about the gun. As much as it is my business, it is also none of my business. I have to trust my gut with the fact that Johnny's parents are good people and that if they do have a gun in their house, it is properly locked up and out of the way.

But the question...it still nags me in the back of mind...you know?

So Internet people, what would you do? Do you ask your children's friend's parents if they have a gun? OR do you let it go?

This is not a question about the right to own a gun, but more of a question is it a right to ask someone if they own a gun?


* Please note that since I have publicly stated that I do not have a gun and in case you are some creepy criminal who now realizes you can try and invade and rob my home...I may not be able to shoot you dead for breaking in my house, but I sure as hell would wrestle you and force my (generic non narcotic) prescription pills down your throat and then I would tie your neck up on the pull string to my(not a name brand or worht anything) blinds as I slug back about 8 shots of ( regular run of of the mill cheap stuff) tequila and get in my car (which is a KIA and not worth stealing) and run your ass over.

Better Life

I think most of today's parents want to provide a better life for their children than the life they perceived as having when they were kids.


They want to provide more opportunities than what they had. They want to give their own kids what they (today's parents) as children did not have.


On Friday I had reached my first successful moment regarding giving my kids something that I, as a kid, never had; we had Doritos for dinner.

I am feeling pretty good about myself at this moment.

Bathroom Begats

We started the re-do of our bathroom in October of 07. At that time we only fixed and completed the bath and shower side of the bathroom. A year later (December of 08) we finally got around to fixing the toilet and sink side of the project.

The above picture is the before picture. Friday December 26th I did the demo work to get the area prepared for the next morning. I had a plumber friend coming over early Saturday morning to to help with the pipes.

We took apart the old sink and cabinet and prepped the area for the new sink and cabinet. Lauren who was two weeks shy of giving birth to Jackson came in and did the Beadboard work.

We were on such a roll that the Beadboard and sink were installed by 2pm on Saturday. Why 2 PM? I think Lauren held us back a a little. She was perfectionist with her Beadboard and anytime she entered the small bathroom with her big belly I would have to step out so she could maneuver around. Otherwise I think we would have been done around noon.

Sunday morning December 28th was a glorious day. It was sunny and crisp outside. The kids were still on a high from their Christmas. Lauren was glowing and felt great. I was feeling good about completing that bathroom. The Philadelphia Eagles had a game that day against the Dallas Cowboys at 4pm. If the Eagles won (and other teams lost and won etc etc) then the Eagles would be going to the playoffs. I think I would lose some of my Eagles Fan credentials if I don't add this statement at this time: Cowboys suck. Anyway, I was excited to finish the bathroom and watch the game that evening.

Sunday Morning at 10 AM I called my brother Dan to ask his opinion on which type of molly bolt I should use. I told him I was going to be replacing my vanity/medicine cabinet/ light fixture. We chatted for a few minutes and then I went to Lowes to buy his recommended bolts. It was a beautiful day. There was no line at Lowes and everyone was friendly and helpful. I returned with the bolts and a few other needs and I quickly went to work. I explained to Lauren and the kids that I needed to turn off the circuit breaker for the bathroom which also included the entire upstairs. While I worked on replacing the vanity/medicine cabinet/light fixture they would not have Internet service or television since the routers and main cable box came into the house through the upstairs. Lauren quietly occupied the boys with their toys and everything was good.

Taking down the old fixture was a breeze. I used the molly bolts and prepped the wall for the new fixture and cabinet. I hung the new light. I connected black wire to black wire white wire to white wire and green wire to the electrical ground screw. At the rate I was going I was going to be done this entire project by 3 PM. It was a good day. I went down to the garage and turned on the breaker.

It is right after the above picture was taken when I started cursing mothers and asking God to send everything to hell. Every other word or phrase out my mouth was "Son of a bitch." or "God Dammit." The new light fixture would not go on. I double checked my work, the breaker and the switch. Everything was connected the right way. I must have bought a defective fixture.

I went into my bedroom to check to see if I had the receipt so I could return it to the store. I flipped on the light only to find that my bedroom lights did not work. In a slow motion panic I checked all the lights in all the bedrooms. None of them worked. The entire upstairs had no electricity. It was at this time that I started to utter every combination and variation of the word "Fuck".

After checking and rechecking and rechecking and rechecking my work I could not fathom why the entire upstairs had no power. I asked my neighbor for help and he came over and double checked my work. Two hours later and multiple trips to Lowes, replacing breakers and light switches I still did not have power. I called my brother Dan to get his opinion. His opinion was that I was screwed. I called my brother Dennis who knows more about electricity than anyone else I know. He told me he was going to be watching the Eagles game but he could hear the desperation my voice and I may have pulled the "Lauren is pregnant and could go at anytime card.". He came over at 3 PM.

Dennis double checked all my work with all his electrical gadgets. The light fixture was fine and my wiring was fine. He too could not understand why the power was out. At 5 PM we took a break from scratching our heads and had dinner. I checked my Blackberry and updated him on the Eagles game. Everything fell into place for the team and if the Eagles won they would be in the playoffs. I had no TV to watch.

At 6 PM we went back to work. It was starting to get dark outside and we had to hurry so we could still work by the light coming in from the window. We dismantled everything and started over. Black wire to black, white to white and green to ground. I am not sure what caused me to accidentally touch the green wire to the white wire but when I did the light flickered. Dennis gave me the "what in the hell was that" look. He used another electrical testing gadget and we found out that the green wire was also a hot live wire. This same green wire, which is supposed to ground out the circuit, was actually the wire that completed the circuit for the entire upstairs. We fixed the problem and I had power and lights just as the Eagles won the game. We missed the entire game.

Re-doing the bathroom, begat a new light fixture, which begat new light switches, which begat new breakers, which begat new wires, which begat new combination of many curse words. But in the end it all worked out.

Dennis deduced that electricians in the 1960s, who did the original wiring for the house got lazy when it came to the bathroom light and switch. Apparently all the power for the second floor of my house goes through my bathroom.

Now, every time I flush my toilet I am afraid that the lights will flicker.