Beach Boys

Dear Internet,

I am sorry I have not been around for the past 10 days or so. We took the family to the beach for a vacation.

We went to Wildwood, Ocean City and Cape May. We ate ice cream, candy, hotdogs and fries. We went on walks and on log flumes and on rollercoasters and bumper boats. We went to the beach, the bay, the out door mall, the boardwalk and the ER. All in all it was a great vacation and everyone had a great time. Except for the trip to the ER. I don't think Jackson, Lauren or I enjoyed that part.




Jackson is okay. He had a bad fall. I am thinking of getting some T-shirts made up that say "I went to the Jersey Shore and all I got was an X-ray."

Card Ideas

My anniversary is tomorrow. Lauren and I have been married 8 years. I know this because I just said to her the other day, "I can't believe we have been married 9 years."

Which she said, "Neither can I, because this Tuesday is only our 8 year anniversary."

As with all old married couples we do not really exchange romantic gifts or anything. Our gift giving is done more out of necessity. We get each other what we need rather than what we want or what we would want for the other person. This year we need a new coffee maker, a new cordless phone for the home, and a new vacuum cleaner.

I am not sure what I am getting for Lauren and what she is getting for me. We will decide later this week. But this is where I need some help. To make the gifts romantic we will need cards to go with the gifts. So knowing that I could be getting Lauren a phone, coffee maker or vacuum and she could be getting me one of those same items we need some ideas for a romantic card to accompany the gift.

Contest time--Leave a comment with an idea for a romantic anniversary card to go with one or all of the gifts, either from me to Lauren or Lauren to me. Lauren and I will pick our three favorites and the winners will recieve a copper plated Abraham Lincoln Medallion worth 1 cent.

Go here to read about our wedding. Pic here .

Realizing Dreams

When Lauren and I were young and kid less we lived in cool little apartment across from a train station, an ice cream shop and above a coffee shop. We were cool, Bohemian-esque, young and hip. One day while I was eating at the ice cream shop I started a conversation with the waitress whose name was Eve. I don't remember exactly what we talked about but I learned that her and her husband Ken lived in an apartment down the street and that they too were young, kid less, Bohemian-esque and hip.

Lauren and I became quick friends with Ken and Eve. They were the first "couple" friends we made as a couple. We hung out often. Ken was into theater and I was into theater. Eve wanted to be a writer and I wanted to be a writer. They were lovers of art and Lauren was a lover of art. They had a dog, we had a dog. Ken liked to drink and I loved to drink. We were a couples match made in heaven. We spent many nights drinking and eating and discussing ideas for plays, movie scripts, novels and films. We would exchange each others writings and offer ideas. We played Cranium and cards while drinking margarita's and drunkenly expressing our creative hopes and dreams.

Lauren and I eventually got married and started to raise a family. Ken went back to school and Eve took on a full time job. We started to grow up. We drifted apart as "couples" friends. Lauren and I moved to Florida and pretty much lost contact with Ken and Eve. When we moved back to PA in 2007 and I kept meaning to call them but by then we had two kids and life would get in the way.

In the spring of 2008, I was in the grocery store parking lot when I saw Ken get out of his car. I was so excited to see him that I ran up to him and hugged him while jumping up and down, like he was Bob Barker and I was just told I won the Show Case Show Down. I pretty much dry humped him in the Acme parking lot. We exchanged numbers and promised to keep in touch.

That hasn't really happened, because, well, life gets in the way. But through the magic of computers and social networking I have been able to keep tabs on my cool Bohemian friends. I was very excited to find out that Eve, who used to dream about being a writer, has had her first book published. It was just released on Tuesday. I immediately ran out and picked up a copy and I think you should too.


Free to a Good Home by Eve Marie Mont.

I have not started reading it but I know it must be awesome. It is some one's dream realized and that, well, that is awesome.

Who watches the watchman

In my quest to drop some weight and live a healthier life I have taken up running. Most of the time I run at night around 9:30 or so. Using various websites I have mapped a few courses through my neighborhood.

Every night during my jog I have noticed a small gold colored SUV driving very slow through the neighborhood. The first night the SUV slowed to a crawl as it approached me from behind. I thought I was going to get jumped, but then the speed picked back up and it passed me. I could not see the driver or the passenger. I figured they mistook me for someone else. The second night the same thing happened. Again two people driving very slowly. The third night the gold SUV approached me from the front, I could see shadows of both the driver and passenger. They did not slow down but kept a very slow driving pace. I was finally able to see the passenger on the fourth night. I realized it was my next door neighbor. He and another guy are part of the neighborhood watch program. For the next couple of nights I would wave to them as I ran by.

I was into my third week of running and I had just finished a 2.77 mile run (my furthest run at that time) when I saw a gold SUV approach me. It was driving very close to the opposite curb in a spastic stop and go fashion. I craned my neck to get a better view of the other side of the vehicle when I noticed someone moving very quickly, clinging to the shadows along the edges of the homes on that side of the street. It looked to me like the neighborhood watch guys were after someone.

All of the sudden the person took off across the front yard of a corner lot. I could see him clearly in the glow of the home's porch light. It was a teen-aged boy. The SUV, jolted, sped up and rounded the corner. Just as the SUV completed its turn, the teenager on the lawn spun around and ran in the opposite direction of the SUV. There was no way the SUV was going to be able to make a U-turn on the small street in time to catch the kid.

My inner Batman took over and I jetted after the kid. I thought maybe the kid was caught breaking into cars or maybe he was seen vandalizing some property. My adrenaline was flowing, my testosterone pumping. I would nab the perpetrator.


The kid was about 35 yards ahead of me when he realized I was chasing him. He sped up.

The kid was fast. I was faster.

For about 4 seconds I was faster. After that, the two plus miles I had just ran caught up to me. My shin splints ached, I could not catch my breath, sweat burned my eyes, I had a stitch in my side and my feet burned. I pulled up, gasping, limping, holding my lower right side. I leaned against a street light and watched the kid turn up the next road over. I hobbled to that corner and looked up to see if I could spot him. He too was now walking and he strolled up a driveway.

A minute later the gold SUV pulled up along side of me as a I walked towards the driveway. It was not the neighborhood watch SUV. A woman rolled down her window and thanked me for chasing her 13 year old son home. He was going to run away, she was following him trying to convince him to come home. He made it a block and half from his house when I started chasing him. I scared him straight home.

Some kind of a noma

I know two people who have died from Melanoma. Hell, I lived with the two people that I know that died from Melanoma; my friend and old roommate Dan Howard and my dad.

My friend Pam (Dan's widow) over the past few years has organized a team for the Noreen O'Neill Foundation for Melanoma Research Running for Cover 5k race to raise money for Melanoma research. Our family has donated and participated over the past few years. This year's race was this past Sunday and Lauren and I took Max and Wyatt down town to participate. Lauren ran in the 5k race and the boys and I ate all the free Tastykakes (a sponsor of the event) we could get our hands on. If you are not familiar with Tastykakes, well you should familiarize yourself with this Philly based company.

It is always a good feeling to know that one can eat their weight in Strawberry Fruit and Yogurt Breakfast Bars and that some good can come out of it. Like these good news articles about Melanoma research.

New Drug Extends Lives of Melanoma Patients

New Drug PLX-4032

Melanoma Master Cells Identified


Melanoma is one of those cancers that if one takes the right steps they can dramatically reduce their chances of developing the disease. These steps are quite simple; limit your time in direct sun light and wear sun screen. It is even more important that you take these steps with your kids. Children get 80% of their lifetime sun exposure before the age of 18, so it is important to protect them. Protecting the skin during the first 18 years of life can reduce the risk of some types of skin cancer by up to 78%.

Early detection is key in fighting Melanoma. Having a dermatologist do a skin cancer screening is the best solution to early detection. During a skin cancer screening, your doctor will inspect your skin from head to toe—including areas not exposed to the sun. They will record the location size and color of any mole and compare those records with each visit.

However some Melanomas can grow fast and you should always check your skin for new moles as well as any changes in existing moles. Melanoma can grow on areas of your skin that you cannot see, like your back, so have a loved one inspect these areas from time to time.

I am always telling Lauren I need to inspect her exposed body for moles. She always thinks I have ulterior motives.

Possessed

Needed: a Priest or Rabbi or Shaman or Friar or Monk or Hippie Witch Doctor, Padre or Son of a Preacher Man to perform an exorcism of a demonically possessed red plastic plate.

The red plastic plate is clearly possessed because it causes two boys to argue in high pitched wails over who gets to eat off of it. This red plate causes 6 year old boys to scream, "I GET THE RED PLATE!" over and over again. It also causes 4 year boys to cry and yell, "YOU GOT THE RED PLATE LAST TIME."

"I WANT IT."

"NO, I WANT IT."

"YOU CAN'T HAVE IT."

"NO YOU CAN'T HAVE IT."

The possessed red plate also causes 40 year old men to holler "IT IS JUST A RED PLATE!"

It also causes mothers to cover their ears and shout, "I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE!"

I have threatened to throw out the red plate but the children break down into tears every time. They weep and say, "No daddy, please do not throw away the red plate. I NEVER get to have the red plate. Please *sob* don't *sob* throw *gasp* it away."

It must be possessed by evil spirits to cause this reaction.

It is just a red plastic plate. We have a blue, green, yellow, light blue, orange and white plastic plates and none of them cause this reaction from the young ones. Just the red plate.

I will pay top dollar for the exorcism. If you do a good job there are a few other items I will need to have the demons removed from; like the silver scooter (not the blue one), an orange plastic bat (the yellow one does not seem evil), the Nerf-like rocket launcher (the other one broke), the garden hose (when washing a car but it does not seem evil when watering the plants) and any last grape, last strawberry, last marshmallow or last juice box we have in the house at any given time. All these items cause the same reaction.

Only experienced people need apply.

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What is possessed in your home?


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The winner of the 5 packs of Huggie Little Mover's (post from last week) is Pam. The winner of the new diaper bag is Tara Wilburn. Both winner were randomly chosen. Thanks to everyone who commented.

April from April's Reign interviewed me for a blog post on her blog. It is kind of long but it was fun. (that's what she said).

Boys of Summer

Lauren took the boys to get their haircut. She decided on the "summer cut", you know the cut that is extra short to keep the kids cooler in the summer heat. I swear, every time the kids get their hair cut it makes them instantly look a year older.

Which is why I think Lauren did not get Jackson's hair cut. She is either trying to keep him a baby, or maybe his "summer cut" is "surfer dude".

Decoy

I don’t know how it is for girls, but when changing the diaper on a little boy as soon as the diaper comes off they immediately reach for their penis. Read the rest of the post here Poop and Boogies Review

Looking out for Buses

Thirty some odd days ago I started an exercises routine/program. Since starting that program I have also taken up running. Here are some of my observations about diet and exercise.

Running sucks.

Dieting sucks.

Exercising is not so bad.

I have become one of those annoying people who does nothing but talk about dieting and exercising.

I really think that people who diet and exercise and say they "lost" weight are selling themselves short. You lose your keys. You lose your cell phone. Dieting and exercising to drop pounds is hard work.

The worst nights to run in my neighborhood are Monday and Thursday nights. Trash night. Trash cans line the street and on hot humid nights the smell from the cans can cause pockets of gag inducing stench. Establishing an inhale-through-the-nose breathing rhythm is very difficult on trash night.

I am down 14 pounds since I started working out. I need to work off another 14.

Counting calories is very difficult. There is no guidebook that tells you how many calories are in the cut off crusts of your kids peanut butter and fluff sandwiches. Or how many calories are in the last few bites of a bowl of Rice Krispies your kid did not finish.

The people you see everyday do not notice your physical changes. It is nice to invite friends over who you have not seen in over a month so they can compliment you on your looks.

I used to be one of those people who would say "What's the point of eating healthy and exercising, I could get hit by a bus tomorrow." Now, I am on the look out for buses as I run across and down the road.

Music choice is very important when running. I noticed I do better when I listen to a "live" album. I imagine that the people cheering in the song are actually cheering for me. I try to time the end of my run to coincide with Peter Gabriel's Solsbury Hill live version. Having "people" cheering is not important for the entire run but it definitely helps at the end of the run so I suggest having at least one 2 to 3 minutes "live" song on the ipod.

I find myself getting more done in other aspects of my life such as yard work, house work, playing with the kids etc. Dieting and working out has giving me more energy for other things.

Speaking of having more energy for other things, does Barry White have a "live" album? You know what I'm saying? You know what I'm saying? Again, I would only need a 2 to 3 minute song. (Boom. I just saved you the comment Anonymous.)

Watch

-"Wyatt, I don't want you to spend too much time on the computer." -

-"Wyatt, why don't we spend our time doing something more productive."-

-"Wyatt, why are you spending so much time in the bathroom?"-

-"Wyatt, I have to spend some time with Jackson."-

-"Wyatt, we're out of time. We have to go." -

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Last night Wyatt received a watch in his happy meal. I have never seen him so excited to get a happy meal toy.

"Daddy, Daddy, open it. open it." Wyatt said with excitement.

I unwrapped the Shrek Donkey faced watch from the plastic and I set the time.

"Put it on me dad. Put it on me." Wyatt held out his wrist. "How much time is on here?" he asked.

"It is 6 o'clock. So I set it for 6 o'clock."

"Can I spend it here? I want to go to the play area."

Grass

Last week my sister was over for a barbecue. She handed me a picked plant from my yard.

"Just what are you guys growing here?" she asked.

I asked her where she found it and she said it was all over the back yard.

It gives a whole new meaning to my Scott's "weed and feed" routine

I love him different

Whenever I asked my mom which of her 9 kids she loved best, after she would whisper "Jimmy" under her breath, she would reply, "I love you all the same."

Never satisfied with that answer I would press her and she would say something like, "I love you all the same but different."

Now that I have three sons I understand the "different" part.

My love for my kids grows more and more everyday. Maxfield was the first, I have loved him longer. The feelings I have for him are more complex and deeper than that of my other two boys, since I have shared many fatherly firsts with him. Max, as the first son, has taught me more about myself than any other person could. He tries to make me laugh and he often succeeds. I admire Max's intelligence, inquisitive spirit, goofiness, perfectionism and his depth of real empathy and emotion for a six year old. I love him different.

Jackson, the baby of the family, is the soft and cuddly one. His smile lights up a room. His giggles are infectious. The glimmers of his personality that we can see at his young age are heading in the direction of him being a charmer. He is strong willed and he shows hints of his mother's stubbornness. I love him different.

Wyatt Blue is the middle child. When he was the baby he was my youngest and I looked out for him different than I would look out for Max. I already knew what kind of trouble a toddler could or could not get into so I was not as protective. This allowed my love for him to be more relaxed and free. Once Jackson was born I could immediately relate to what Wyatt was going through and what he will go through as a middle child. Wyatt cracks me up without trying. He is naturally funny and is already showing his chops for attention stealing drama and comedy. He has more patience than Max with most situations but his temper goes from cool to white hot real quick when something bothers him. He is caring and carefree. He marches to the beat of his own drummer. I love him different.

Wyatt turns four today. How he came into the world Part 1 part 2 and part 3 and one of my favorite pictures ever is here.

Happy Birthday Wyatt Blue! I love you different.

Expensive

I gave Wyatt a bowl of mixed berries for him to eat with his breakfast. It is berry season and there is nothing like fresh strawberries, raspberries, blueberries and blackberries to start the day.

I was at the sink washing more fruit when out of the corner of my eye I saw Wyatt hand some of his breakfast to the dog. There was a blackberry on the floor.

"Wyatt, please do not feed Luna your blackberries. They are very expensive and should not be given to dogs. "

"Sorry." Wyatt said.

Max came down the stairs and sat at the table. I placed a bowl of fresh berries in front of him and I returned to the sink.

Wyatt whispered to Max in a very cautious tone, "Don't feed the dog any berries. She might explode."

I'm 40- Please Touch

I am older than I have ever been. I know that everyday I am older than I have ever been. I am thankful for every day that I am older than I have ever been. But older than I have ever been is how I described turning 40 this past weekend.

40 is a "new demographic" age. 40 is the "mid-life-crisis-buy-a-red-convertible" age. 40 is the "holy cow 40 cows on the front lawn" age (you never see 30 cows on a front lawn). I am 40. I knew 40 was coming and I was prepared.

A month ago I received an email from the Please Touch Museum (no it is not the Clinton Library) inviting my family to a blogger day the were have on June 4th. I have never been to the Please Touch museum and I figured what a great way to forget that I was turning 40 than to play in a museum designed for children 7 and younger. How is that for changing my demographic? The museum has 6 or so exhibit halls that encourage kids to play in a variety of ways.

One of the halls has a super market where kids can load up carts with all kinds of toy groceries and play shopper or shop keeper. This was by far my kids favorite hall in the museum. They loaded cart after cart after cart in the little grocery store. I did my best to encourage the "real life" aspect of the pretend play by laying on the floor of the store, crying and wailing, begging Max and Wyatt to buy me something. I also knocked over displays and ran down other aisles so they could not see me and think I was lost. They didn't "get it".

I would shop there again because they had the hottest check-out girl, ever. The other halls like the Roadside Attractions and the Wonderland were also big hits with my kids. The maze of mirrors was my favorite. I look like my brother Kevin in this picture.

Lauren, the kids and I had a great time and for the few hours we were there I forgot I was turning 40. When we wrapped it up and headed home I was so exhausted from chasing the kids that I felt 40.

When Lauren asked me what I wanted for my birthday I told her I wanted the Wii. Instead of a red convertible I thought a new game console that I could play with my kids would make me feel younger.

I was happy she got me the Wii. She got me the Wii with the Wii Fit Bundle. You know, the game where you work-out, exercise, lose weight etc. Was she trying to tell me something? I have lost 10 lbs in the past 3 weeks doing the P90X. Maybe I am not progressing fast enough. I guess it does take a 40 year old more time to get into better shape.

Lauren also had her mom babysit and she took me out to a Brazilian style steak house for my birthday. A Brazilian steakhouse is where men walk around with skewers of various cuts of meat (they had 13 different varieties the night we went) that they slice for you at your table. Instead of 40 cows on my lawn I had all-you-can-eat beef (garlic sirloin tips, ribs, Filet Mignon, flank steak) lamb (chops and leg of), pork (sausage, ribs, tenderloin) and chicken. I felt young sitting across from a beautiful woman, having a cocktail, enjoying the fine food and eating like I was in my twenties.

I woke up at three in the morning with horrible cramps and a lot of gas. Just like a 40 year old.

I am older than I have ever been. I now get the meaning of the term "Old Fart."

Amazing Power

I think having the ability to read is one of the greatest powers a person can posses. I love reading and sometimes I find myself amazed at the fact that little symbols on a piece of paper can create such incredible images or ideas in my brain. I love the fact that if I do not know something or how to do something I can simply find the answers, read them and empower myself to learn new abilities or knowledge.

It truly boggles my mind that there are people in the world who do not know how to read. Having the power to read is something I hope I never take for granted.

Maxfield is in the early stages of developing his power. I really enjoy watching him as he sounds out a word and then recognizes it in his mind.

Here is video of Max sharing his power with Wyatt. I am so glad I got to capture TWO very proud father moments. The first is Max reading. The second, well, just watch.

Point It Down

After Maxfield was born our friend Alyson gave us some parental advice. She already had a little boy and she knew a thing or two.

"Remember," Alyson said "when you change his diaper make sure you point it down."

She was not talking about pointing 'it' away from the direction you were standing but actually making sure that 'it' was actually pointed down in the diaper. By pointing 'it' down, we made sure that there were less leaks. All diapers have the absorbing material in the lower front to the back of them. No diapers make the "belt" area absorbent. If 'it' is pointed up, well, pee leaks right out the top of the diaper. Baby girls do not have this problem.

However, once boys get a little older, a little bit more mobile, keeping 'it' down becomes more difficult (and even more so when they hit their teens). Now that Jackson is walking and crawling and running and falling, keeping 'it' in the down position is somewhat of a crap shoot (pun totally intended since I am talking about diapers). Putting him down for a nap without checking to see if 'it' is down can result in an unscheduled load of laundry.

Our family has always used Huggies as our choice of diapers. Huggies is one of the few products we use where we feel that the name brand is important. We tried changing brands once before and it did not work out for us. Huggies for some reason always fit our boys the right way and kept 'it' down, which prevented leaks.

Last year Jackson was invited by Huggies to test their Little Movers line of diapers. My biggest concern about switching from the regular Huggies to the Little Movers was whether the Movers would have the same snug fit. Would they be able to keep 'it' down. Let me just say since going to New York last September we have not used any other kind of diaper on Jackson except the Little Movers. We have yet to have any kind of leak or accident with the Little Movers brand. I have actually stopped checking to make sure 'it' was down when I take him for his naps. The Little Movers work for our little mover no matter what part is moving.

Huggies recently came out with a new line of Little Movers Jeans diapers. They were nice enough to send me a package for Jackson to model. A few things that struck me about the dark blue denim-looking diapers--

1. I think they are cute.
2. They are exactly the same as the regular Little Movers.
3. The get lost in the dark pocket of a deep diaper bag. They blend with the shadows (like Nightcrawler from the X-Men).
4. Now women who make diaper cakes for baby showers, can actually make a blue diaper cake for boys.

And 5. Jackson is one handsome kid.

There has been some debate, over at the Huggies Face Book page, caused by the new Jean Diapers. People were surprised that some parents would let their kids walk around only wearing a diaper. As you can see from the pictures I have no problem with it. How do you feel about it, would you let you kid walk around only in a diaper? What do you think of the Little Mover Jean Diaper? Does that change your opinion?

Disclosure- I have partnered with Huggies Little Movers and their Ambassador program. I will be receiving compensation, product for my personal use as well as any reimbursement for reasonable expenses relating to the Ambassador program. However, my opinions are entirely my own and I have not been paid to publish positive sentiments towards Huggies products. Woo hoo, I got a sponsor Y'all.

Healthy Snack

The one thing that the kids on the T-Ball team look forward to the most is the post game snack. Every now and then they are interested in who is getting the game ball but really they just want the snack. At the beginning of the season we set up a schedule so that each player's family would be responsible for the snack for the whole team after different games. We asked that parents keep in mind that one kid has a minor peanut allergy and one kid is a diabetic and that all snacks and drinks should be somewhat healthy. That's the rub.

Trying to find a snack that is healthy, that all 10 players would like, with no peanuts, and most importantly that is convenient to pack up and bring to a ball field is a difficult task. Most parents resorted to bringing soft pretzels (which I love, love me some Philly soft pretzels) and juice boxes. I don't know, it is probably me, but soft pretzels just don't seem like a snack for players after a game. Something salty, heavy and doughy (like their coach) does not seem to me to be a refreshing snack.

A couple of weeks ago I received an email from Chiquita asking if I would be interested in trying their new fruit bite snacks. I knew that my family was coming up in the snack rotation for Little League so I said yes, but only if I could get enough snacks to give some to the whole T-Ball team. Chiquita said no problem and sent me coupons for free Chiquita snack products.

I went to 4 different grocery stores trying to find their products. I figured since it is new that maybe some stores were not carrying them. When I finally did find them I was not sure what kind to get for the team. They have Red Apple Bites, Green Apple Bites, Apple Bites with Caramel, Carrot Bites with Ranch and a couple of others.

At first I was like, "What's the big deal? It is just sliced fruit. I can slice the fruit myself." But then I read the label that the Chiquita snacks are washed in a calcium and vitamin C solution that not only preserves the color of the fruit but also adds extra nutrients. When I tasted Green Apple Bites I was surprised at how crispy and flavorful they were. I usually eat apples at room temperature and the fact the these packages were refrigerated I think really added to the taste. I know that sounds weird but they were really refreshing.

I packed up the snacks with some chilled bottle water and brought them to our game the other night. After the game the kids all gathered around and asked me what was the snack for the night. I told them apples. The disappointed looks they gave me were like "Awww man. Apples?" but then I showed them the individual packages and that seemed to pique their interest. They all grabbed a pack and tore into them. I am pretty sure the kids loved the apples. I know Maxfield did. Plus there were no issues with the allergies or the diabetic.

I was half tempted to ask each kid if they like apples. If they said yes I was was going to say "I got her number. How do you like them apples?" but then I figured they would not get the reference.

Full disclosure-I have not been paid by Chiquita to offer my opinions on their product. Basically I was given apples. The apples I were given were hard to find, yet once I did find them I found them to be quite tasty. I also think the smaller, more individual packaged apples were better for the kids than the larger packs. Oh Chiquita also said I could give away a prize.

Chiquita has offered me a prize bag to give away to one of the people who comment here. The Chiquita “swag bag” products include a Sidekick Lunch Cooler, Ceramic Mug, Travel Mug, Banana Holder and Energize, Maximize Unisex Yellow T-Shirt. I also have a couple of coupons to give away as well. I will pick one winner for the swag bag and a couple for the coupons at random. I will announce winners next week if I can get into contact with them so leave me a valid email address or something.

For a chance to win the above mentioned prize(s) just leave me a comment answering one or all of these questions. 1. Do you like apples? 2. What do you consider a healthy snack for kids? 3. What do you consider a healthy snack for an adult? 4. When you read the words Banana Holder in the above paragraph what was the first thing that came to your mind?

Money

I used to be horrible with money. I was never a good saver. If I had money I spent it. It wasn't until I met Lauren and it was her influence that helped me learn to be responsible with money. Seriously if it wasn't for her I would be friendless, brainless, helpless, hopeless, unemployed in Greenland. I have always hoped that our kids inherit her genes for money.

We had a yard sale at our house this past Saturday. To keep the boys occupied while we tried to sell our junk, Lauren built them a lemonade stand. Last week Max brought home a sponsorship form for a relay race to raise money for the American Cancer Society. Lauren decided to give the boys some baked goods to sell to give the proceeds to the charity.

I figured the lemonade stand would be a good way to teach the boys about money and business.

I really wish I had a security camera in the lemonade stand.

Max and Wyatt fought over who got to pour the lemonade. They fought over who got to take the money. They argued over who got to give the change. The only time they were not arguing was when they were eating the baked goods. I tried to explain to Wyatt that cookies needed to be paid for so we could give the money to charity. Wyatt went into the money till, took out a dollar and then "paid" for four cookies. Thankfully all of their customers were amused by their antics.

Once Max realized that only the lemonade money was for the boys he became a side show barker pimping only the drink. "Do you want lemonade?" he would yell at anyone who stopped by the yard sale. He yelled at cars that drove by, people walking their dogs, neighbors, anyone that was in earshot. Max really hustled. I think I need to teach him how to do Three Card Monte.

At the end of the day they made $60.00. Twenty went to the American Cancer Society and both Maxfield and Wyatt took twenty.

I tried talking the boys into saving their money. Neither one of them wanted anything to do with saving. We went to the store on Sunday, it seems that Max and Wyatt both inherited my spending genes.

Don't Be Mad

Anytime a phone conversation between my wife and I starts with her saying "Don't be mad Bill, but..." usually ends up meaning I have a lot of work to do when I get home.

Don't be mad Bill, but I cut down all the dead branches from the Birch tree. I need you to clean them up when you get home.

Don't be mad Bill, but I re-landscaped the garden beds. I need you to move all the bricks when you get home.

Don't be mad Bill, but I decided to clean out the attic today. I need you to bring down all the trash and boxes when you get home.

Now don't get me wrong, I love my wife. I love my wife doing all of these projects, but sometimes I do get mad. Like the other day when she cleaned the garage, in preparation of our yard sale and put all the trash in one of the trashcans and asked me to bring it to the curb.

The trash can in the middle, the one that my wife filled, must have weighed 400 lbs. I think it gave me a hernia.

Hairy

I can barely type this post. I'm hurting.

I am not kidding I can barely keep my arms up on the desk to reach the keyboard.

It all started a few weeks ago after this incident in the ER. Since I had to sit for a few hours, with no shirt on, while nurses looked at me I realized something about myself; I am a very hairy person.

The next day I took my electric beard trimmer and trimmed some of the chest hair that was creeping up my neck protruding from my collar.

The next day after that I looked in the mirror and I realized that now that I trimmed the hair on my upper chest, my lower chest hair and nipples looked kind of wild and unkempt. I trimmed that as well. I remember having contests with my brothers to see who could have the longest nipple hair, now I was cutting them all off.

The next day after that, I looked in the mirror and I realized how silly the hair looked on my belly while my chest was all nice and neat. So I charged up the trimmer and I clipped the hair on my stomach including the "trail to happiness".

The next day after that I found myself trimming all the hair on my trunk and upper legs. I could not stop myself. Everywhere I looked I messed up somewhere, something was uneven, and I had to trim and cut and shear. It was like the begatting of hair trimming. The next thing I knew I was practically all stubble from neck to mid-thigh.

The next day after that, I told Lauren what happened. She laughed.

The next day after that, I looked in the mirror and without the fur coat I usually sported I realized I was fat. With no hair to hide my man boobs, my man boobs looked like, well, really big man boobs. Without the hair under my chest and on my belly I could see just how much of a gut I was getting. My spare tire looked like it could fit a pick-up truck. Everything looked bigger with no hair (yes even that did too except now I looked like some pre-pubescent boy with a large gut.)

Tonight, I started the P90x workout. I am sure you have seen the infomercial for this intense 90 day workout. I did chest and arms. Now I hurt. I can barely type this post.

Part of the program they suggest taking a Day 1 photo of your body (no shirt) to compare it to pictures at Day 30, Day 60 and Day 90. I did not take the day one photo. I am afraid if I did, when I compared it to the later pictures it would look like time lapse photos of me turning into a werewolf, or maybe a human Chia-pet.

People Watching

When I go to the Kid's Castle Playground I can't help but people watch. My kids play, acting out various superhero shows they have seen on TV, as I watch and eavesdrop on the Real Housewives of Doylestown. I love to people watch. People fascinate me.

The lady in the light blue Nike sweatshirt talks shit about her husband to the dark haired woman in Spongebob printed scrubs. Nike's voice drops to a whisper and a moment later Spongebob cackles with laughter as she puts on her over sized sunglasses. Nike picks up her phone and starts texting.

One woman is dressed way too nice for the playground. Actually way too nice for the weather even. Her kids keep calling to her but she puts a finger up in a silent sign that says "give me a minute". She has her Blue tooth in her ear and she is closing deals as her kids want her attention. Her jewelled sunglasses are more expensive than my entire wardrobe.

I watch a dad try to pick up a large chested attractive dark haired woman. He uses the "single father" phrase way too easily. This is probably his one day in the middle of the week. His sunglasses keep sliding down his nose revealing a uni-brow. He tosses his cell phone back and forth between his hands as if he is nervous.

I get distracted by the woman in the powder blue shorts, running on the path. The sun glistens off her nose, her sweat soaked hair sticks to her forehead, a white wire dropping from each ear. Her sunglasses reflect the trees behind me. She catches me staring and smiles. I smile back.

Two teenagers kiss on the bench in the corner. Their legs and arms intertwined in a weird way trying to touch every part of the other person's body with out it being an inappropriate public display of affection for the playground. The girl's sunglasses sit on top of her head. She is keeping her eye on two smaller children playing in the sand. A tinny beat of music emanates from the iPod ear buds resting on the boys shoulders.

The boy in the Iron Man t-shirt skinned his knee. The little girl in the tie dye tank top want her dad to watch her. Kids yell "tag" and "you're it". Children run in an out of the three story structure buzzing with giggles and cries. The tinny buzz from the iPod gets louder. Cell phones ring and buzz in vibration. Buzz, buzz, buzz.

All the adults, in their over sized, round, Paris Hilton-esque, sunglasses, go from Real Housewives to looking like insects, bees really, hovering outside of their hive. All the electronic gadgets are their antenna sending and receiving signals.

I am no longer watching people.

Art

I was finishing the dishes and cleaning up the kitchen when Lauren came down the steps. The kids were all in bed, asleep for the night.

"What do you want to do?" She asked.

I dried my hands. "How about you and I...you know." I raised my eyebrows.

She rolled her eyes. "Is that all you ever think about?"

"What? I can't help it. It is partly your fault. You always look so hot."

She looked at herself in her tattered T-shirt and sweat pants. Her hair was pulled up in a ponytail.

"Oh right." she said sarcastically. "I am so hot in this."

"You are." I said.

"I don't feel hot." She said rubbing her eyes and yawning. "Some days these boys wear me out."

"Well I think you look great."

"Really? You are only saying that because you want something."

"No. You know I still think you are attractive."

" I know. Sometimes I just don't see what you see."

I thought, that maybe, I was winning her over. You know what I'm saying. I put my arms around her waist and gently kissed her forehead. She did not pull away.

"You are like a priceless piece of art work. You are beautiful. You are like a Picasso or the Mona Lisa or any of those old masterpieces hanging in a museum." I said.

She looked up at me. "Really?" She asked.

"Yeah." I kissed her neck.

"Okay." She said. "But just so you know, those paintings, hanging in the museums they are to be looked at." She nudged me away. "You are not allowed to touch those old masterpieces."

That night I really enjoyed episodes of The Office and 30 Rock.

Buried

My older brother Kevin bought his first house from my aunt and uncle who had owned it for 10 or so years. At the very back of the back yard was fairly large hill or berm or abutment (I don't know what you call it) which the tracks to the local commuter train ran. Once Kevin had kids he decided to install a fence around the perimeter of his back yard.

The fencing company that was due to come out in the next couple of days needed Kevin dig up some bushes to prep the area. At that time he, my cousin Bryan T and I all worked together at various nightclubs in the city. Since we mostly worked at night and slept during the day most of the home projects he worked were all done at odd ball hours. Kevin started digging in the early evening hours. As the sun started to set, a light rain started to fall, when Kevin's shovel hit something other than dirt. With the daylight fading he had a hard time figuring out what was in the hole. He moved more dirt to discover an old torn up plastic bag. He tried to pull the bag out but most of it was still buried. After several tries to yank the bag free it tore open in his hands to reveal bones. Lots of bones. Kevin was bit freaked out.

The rain became heavier. The back yard was dark except for the yellow glow from the old porch light which cast long shadows across the slope of the yard. Kevin continued to dig in a wider area around the bones. Half an hour later Kevin had dug up the remains of what he guessed was a fairly large dog. Kevin then made two phone calls. The first call was to our aunt, the previous owner of the home to confirm that she indeed at one time had a dog. She did. She confirmed that the dog Kevin had dug up was hers. The second call was to Bryan T. Kevin asked if Bryan could bring his pick-up truck because Kevin needed to dispose of something.

Bryan T showed up at Kevin's house a little bit later. Kevin called him into the back yard and asked Bryan to help him lift a rolled up carpet into the back of the truck. Kevin asked Bryan to take the carpet to one of the dumpsters at one of the nightclubs. It was dark. It was raining. There was a big hole in the yard and a shovel sticking out of it. Bryan never asked any questions and rode off with the carpet.

I have been told this story several times over the years from both Kevin's and Bryan's perspective. The story makes me laugh every time. I have not heard it in a while and my re-telling it here may be slightly embellished.

I was reminded of this story two days ago when I was digging a hole in our backyard. The hole was for our cat Bogart who died on Tuesday. I don't mean to be rude, but I chuckled to myself as I dug that hole thinking about Kevin and Bryan. I don't know who was more scared; Bryan for seeing the large hole and shovel and being asked to dispose of a rolled up carpet, or Kevin, because Bryan never asked any questions and acted like this happened to him all the time.

Learning to Ride

When Maxfield turned 6, back in March, Lauren and I gave him a new two-wheel bike without training wheels.

Max smiled, then turned sad and said, "But I don't know how to ride this. It is too hard."

I told him all the encouraging things a boy needs to hear from his father in an effort to get him to try the bike out. He refused. The bike has been sitting in our garage, untouched, for two months.


Over the past few years I have written here on Poop and Boogies about my fondness for the author Brad Meltzer. Looking through my archives I have written one , two , three, four, posts about him and his books. Stalking the man for the past few years has made us somewhat Internet friends. We follow each other on Twitter, we exchange emails every now and then, we're like pen pals.

Brad Meltzer has a new book, Heroes for My Son , coming out May 11th. Brad's publisher sent me an early copy of the book courtesy of Brad. Being pen pals with Brad has its advantages. Heroes for My Son is different from anything Brad has written in the past, such as his suspense thrillers, The First Counsel and Zero Game. Heroes for My Son is a collection of stories about real life heroes whose virtues and talents Brad wanted to share with his son. Some of the heroes are famous, names and stories that everyone knows like the George Washington or Dr. Martin Luther King. Some of the heroes are not so famous and their stories need to be shared, like Miep Gies or Norm Borlaug.

Brad Meltzer writes a short synopsis of each of the heroes in the book, but his take on the heroes is not the typical straight forward re-telling of the heroes story. Brad gives each hero his own personal touch which makes the reasons why he considers them heroes so much more interesting. For instance, what makes the Wright Brothers heroes is not necessarily the fact that they were the first to fly, but the fact that they knew they were going to fail several times before they got it right.

Heroes for My Son is a simple and easy to read book but don't let that fool you; the depth and power behind each story is truly inspiring. Each story can and should be read to everyone in the family. It is a great book and I highly recommend it. The day I received my copy of the book, last Wednesday, I read a few of the entries to Max and Wyatt before bedtime. The one entry I read was about the Wright Brothers. I explained to my boys how the Wright Brothers were the first to fly. I then read Brad's words about how every time Orville and Wilbur went out to test their flying machine they brought extra building material because they knew they would crash. I never knew that little tidbit of information and it fascinated me.

"Crash and rebuild. Crash and rebuild. But never, ever give up." I read from the book.

Maxfield and Wyatt giggled at that line.

The next night they requested I read more from the Heroes for My Son but they wanted me to read about the Wright Brothers again. So I did.

Last Friday, April 30th, I went home for lunch. Lauren, with broad smile, told me to ask Max what he did that morning. Max told me that he rode his bike. I looked to Lauren for confirmation. She smiled, nodded and whispered so Max could not hear her, "I was so proud of him I started to cry."

Lauren and Max told me that they went outside and Max decided it was time to ride his bike. In the beginning he was very frustrated because he kept falling. Lauren said she did not even really help him at all and that Max wanted to do it all on his own.

I was a bit taken back because I just missed out on a milestone moment in my son's life. I always pictured that moment as me running alongside of him, letting go of the seat and Max peddling his little legs, riding by himself, as I cheered, arms raised in a V as he rode away. I was and still am jealous that Lauren got that parenting moment.

I asked Max how he did it. He told me, very excitedly, how he rode up and down our driveway, across the front walk, then up and down our neighbors driveway. Max told me he was not nervous. He said he crashed many times but he kept getting back up and tried riding again.

"Just like the Wright Brothers." I said.

Maxfield beamed back at me and said, "Crash and rebuild. Crash and rebuild. Just like that dad."


He then smiled and we went outside to watch him ride his bike. It was all a blur. Not because it went by so fast but because I watched him through tears that formed in the corners of my eyes. I blamed the tears on allergies. Apparently I am allergic to my son growing up.

I Need New Underwear

I reached into my underwear drawer and grabbed the ratty, elastic stretched, thread worn, holey, navy blue boxer briefs. There was quarter sized hole by the waistband in the front and a one inch tear down the right groin seam. There was a newer pair of white boxer briefs in the drawer. It was a Sunday, most of the laundry in our house gets done on the weekend so my choices were limited. I was going to be working a trade show all day so I stuck with the blue briefs. I figured comfort would be important since I would be on my feet all day. I finished getting dressed and I went downstairs.

I drank some coffee and talked to Wyatt about the birthday party he was going to that morning. It was the first time in his 3 and 3/4 years that he was ever invited somewhere without his older brother. Wyatt was very excited to be going somewhere by himself. I was very happy for him, he needs his own friends. I took the last few sips of my coffee with a pill I sometimes take for my herniated discs. My back and neck were stiff and aching from the 3 yards of mulch I shoveled the day before. I kissed the family goodbye and I drove towards the trade show.

Two minutes before I entered the turnpike my scalp started to itch really bad. My face felt flush, I could feel my ears start to burn. I opened the window to get some air. My feet and hands started to hurt and I could see my wedding ring getting squeezed by the flesh around it. I looked in the rear view mirror and gasped. My faced was completely red, my eyes bloodshot and my lips were puffing up. I was having another allergic reaction.

I turned around and drove home. I could barely walk to the front door my feet were so swollen the laces and seams of my fake wingtips were bulging. I walked into the kitchen and called out for Lauren. She looked at me and made the same face she makes when she sees me naked. She was horrified.

"I need to go the hospital." I told her.

"Oh my God. What happened?" She asked.

"I have no idea. The only thing I did different this morning is that I took one of my pills. My tongue and lips are tingling and I need to go to the hospital."

"Let me call someone to watch the kids." She said as she picked up the phone.

"No. Wyatt needs to go to his party. I will drive myself."

"What? Are you crazy?"

"No. I don't Wyatt to miss his party. He needs this party."

"Bill, He is three. There will be other parties."

"Maybe we should call 911." I said. "No. I don't want to scare the kids. I will drive myself. I want Wyatt to go this party and I don't want him to miss it because his dad has allergies."

"Oh but it will be okay if he misses his party because his dad died?" Lauren said always trying to make her point even though I may have been dying.

I left and drove myself to the hospital. I called Lauren to let her know I was safely in the ER. A nurse asked me to walk back through the triage area. I could hardly move, my feet were so badly swollen.

"Why are you hobbling?" The nurse asked.

"My feet hurt."

"Take off your shoes." She said.

"I can't. I think my feet are stuck in them."

"Do you want me to cut them off of you?"

"No. These are the only dress shoes I own. I will get them off but it will take some time."

The nurse helped me onto the bed and she instructed me to take off all my clothes except my underwear. My ratty, torn, hole filled underwear. I was embarrassed. As I took off each article of clothing I discovered the most hideous rash I have ever seen covered my entire body. I was more mortified at my underwear. A doctor and another female nurse entered the curtained exam room. They looked at me and winced, maybe from the appearance of the rash, but I thought it was because of the holes in my boxer briefs.

The doctor asked me to stand up so they could examine everywhere. The two female nurses helped me out of the bed and then the three of them all used flashlights to inspect my back side and inner thighs. The doctor decided I needed a epinephrine shot and a bag of IV fluids with steroids. I was also to be placed on a heart monitor in case anything bad happened.

The two nurses worked quickly and in sync to get everything done. One prepped one side of my body for the IV and heart monitor while the other sorted through the various equipment. They chatted together the entire time talking as if I was not even laying there completely exposed except for my really bad underwear. Once the heart monitor was hooked up and beeping they inserted an IV into my left arm and injected epinephrine into my right arm. The nurse on my left stood next to me holding the IV bag above my head. They asked me to scooch back in the bed a bit. As I did I could feel the holes in the front of my underwear shift a bit exposing certain parts of my anatomy. I asked for a blanket.

The nurse on my right, finally acknowledging I was there, said that everything looked okay and that they would keep me for a few hours to observe. She nodded to the nurse on my left who was fiddling with the IV bag and asked, "What are you doing?"

"This one does not have a big pole. How come I am always stuck with the ones without any kind of pole."

I then cleared my throat and said, "I know you just inspected me with flashlights and that my underwear is full of holes but you didn't even get a good look there so please do not insult me."

It took her a minute but then she laughed.

Later when she was removing the heart monitor clips that were taped to my chest, I think she took pleasure in ripping sticky pads from my body.

This is kind of what my reaction looked like except my entire body was covered. This picture is a reaction to the type of tape they use in the hospital. The good news is I do not think I am allergic to chocolate like I thought before. The bad news is I am allergic to the medicine I am supposed to take for my neck pain. I am also allergic to hospital tape and nurses ripping hair out of my chest.

Shadow

Wikipedia defines a shadow as an area where direct light from a light source cannot reach due to obstruction by an object. In our house, most times, that obstruction is Maxfield, and Wyatt, the little brother, is in the shadow.

Wyatt is at the awkward age where he is tyring his best to fit in with his older brother and older brother's friends but also is the biggest pain in the ass to those he is trying to fit in with. He is the third wheel. He follows them around going where they go. He tries doing what they do. Sometimes he frustrates the older boys. Uusually he becomes their shadow quietly playing near or around the older boys.

Lately, Maxfield has been getting a lot of invites to go over to his friend's houses. Lauren and I always feel bad for Wyatt because he gets left out. We have been trying to get Wyatt some of his own friends but with Max's Little League, Max's school schedule, Max's play dates and Jackson's sleep/nap schedule it has been somewhat difficult. You see there? That last sentence, not once did I mention Wyatt's schedule. You see, Wyatt is in the shadows.

I can't help but feel bad for him sometimes. He gets so sad when he is not invited.

Now that Max has been going out more often I have had the opportunity to hang out with just Wyatt. He has become my little shadow. He wants to go where I go. He wants to do what I do. Sometimes he gets underfoot, which can be frustrating.

Wikipedia's entry on shadows also had some other notes. This one struck me "It is also believed as an alternative construct that shadows are in fact a representation of God's presence around an object."

How true. How true.

I love my little shadow.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------James from Luke I am your Father is the last winner from the GoodNites Bedtime Theater Contest. James please email me with your contact information so I can send you your prize pack.

Please go to GoodNites Bedtime Theater contest website after May 4th to vote on the winner of Iggy's Next Adventure. I was honored to be part of a group of bloggers that helped pick the 10 finalists. Now Goodnites needs other people like you to vote on the best story.

Disclaimer--I have partnered with GoodNites® Sleep Pants for the Bedtime Theater program. I have been compensated for my time commitment to the program, which includes developing the Iggy’s Next Adventure story, sharing the program information with my readers, tweeting my blog entry and judging the Iggy’s Next Adventure contest entries. However, my opinions are entirely my own and I have not been paid to publish positive sentiments towards the GoodNites® products.”

Big Nipples

When I was 12 I hit puberty. Well actually puberty hit me. Puberty was not very kind to me. I did not get acne. My hair grew in all the right places. My voice changed but not in an awkward way. My muscle mass grew. From reading this it sounds like I had a very normal almost good puberty. Well when I went through puberty I suffered from pubertal gynecomastia. Sounds bad doesn't it? Well let me tell you, for a 12 year old boy it was bad.

What is a gynecomastia? In simple terms it means I suffered from enlarged breasts. During puberty certain hormones get all out of sorts and get confused and start to give boys breasts. The estrogen based hormones once entrenched in the mammary glands decide to stay there and set up shop until the testosterone based hormones come in and kick them out. Basically the hormones fight over the space. In my case the male testosterone hormones, like any 12 year old boy, liked the idea of having breasts around and did not put up much of a fight. Besides they were busy making sure other parts were growing (and at the most inconvenient and awkward times I might add, like Algebra or Social Studies).

But I did not suffer from just a mere swelling of the breasts, no my big boobs were also complicated by little marble calcifications that developed under my nipples. That's right, I had big nipples. Not big round flat nipples. No, my nipples were pointy and stuck out from my chest, like big pink, slightly hairy, rock hard, Hershey kisses.

In the early 80's if you had a questions and needed to know something you asked my mom. My mom, in the 80's, was like Google. She did not know everything but she could provide you with at least 5 or so relevant stories to fit whatever the topic or question. I told my mom what was happening and she told me it was part of the process of growing older. She told me that one of my older brothers suffered the same thing and that it happens in about 30% of boys going through puberty. She then, because we were talking about puberty, tried to talk to me about the birds and the bees and "disgusting" things like vagina's and penises. Like I said, my mom was just like Google.

I was very self conscious about my nips. I always wore a T-shirt under my regular shirts. I never changed in the locker room after Gym class. I avoided pools and the beach. Not only was the size of nipples embarrassing but they also hurt like hell. The slightest pressure against my chest felt like jagged rocks were trying to pierce my nipples. I played football and just wearing shoulder pads made my eyes tear up. My big marble filled nipples lasted 3 years. It took three years for the male dominated hormones to win the battle inside my boobs.

Now that I am pushing 40 and I am somewhat settled in my activity it appears as though my boobs may be making a comeback.

Rerun

We took Max and Wyatt to go see the Lion King Musical at the Academy of Music in Philadelphia. Lauren and I saw the Broadway version in 2001 and we both felt that the show as a stage production is very inspiring. We were very excited to see if we would be inspired by Max and Wyatt's reaction to such an incredible show.

I snuck my Flip video camera into the theater and even after hearing numerous warnings against recording in the building I did my best Freddy Rerun Stubbs bootlegging. Thankfully the Dobbie Brothers never showed up.

Maxfield and Wyatt loved the show even though Wyatt fell asleep midway through act two. Afterwards we went to Lauren's mother's house (she not only gave us the tickets as a gift but also watched Jackson while we were at the show) and she fed the boys snacks of pistachios and cookies and pretzels.

Later that night I asked Max what was his favorite part of the day and he responded by saying eating pistachios.

Sudoku

Saturday was Maxfield's official first day of playing organized sports. It also marked my first day of coaching an actual game. Part of managing a team at this level is making sure that every kid gets equal playing time at every position and each kid gets to bat in a different spot in the line up throughout the season. One way to make sure this happens is to have the kids play a different position each inning. 10 kids, 10 positions, no repeats. Setting my line up for a three inning game is like playing Sudoku.

Our team name is the Pirates, Lauren made sure that we had fans to support us.


It was a cold and windy Saturday and Jackson came to the game dressed as Captain Snotbeard the Pirate. That is stylish snot goatee.


Lauren also made us a banner for the opening day ceremonies parade. No other team had a banner. Pirates rock.

Maxfield played first base for one inning. He is one handsome first basemen. It was good day.

We have another game on Wednesday so I may be busy for the next few days trying to figure out which kid plays where.

I suck at Sudoku.

Billy Penn

There is a statue of William Penn on top of city hall in the center of Philadelphia. William Penn was the planner and developer of the City of Brotherly Love. If you approach the city hall building from a certain angle the scroll in the Bill's hand appears as if it is something else. Lauren and I took Max and Wyatt down to the city to see a play. The twelve year old boy inside me could not resist taking a picture.


Max and Wyatt loved being in the city and were impressed with the skyscrapers, soft pretzels and the smell of urine that excapes from the subway tunnel grates.

Confidence from the Bay City Rollers

The Bay City Rollers are kind of responsible for building my confidence. GO Here to read the rest of the post. P & B Review.

Invisible

Maxfield held his hand out the window of the car as I drove him to school. The wind was catching his open palm, his fingers surfed slightly on the air. There was a slight drizzle of rain. I asked his if his hand was getting all wet.

"No. The wind is drying it real fast." he said smiling. "I can feel the rain drops and then they dry. This must be what it feels like when you turn invisible. Like if you could disappear."

I smiled into the rear view mirror marveling at his imagination.


A little bit ago Miss Zoot had an interesting post about procrastinating. Part of the post said (and she was quoting something/someone else):

"One of the characteristics of a person who does too much is procrastination. Often, our busyness is a subtle form of procrastination that keeps us away from what we really need to be doing."

I try to stay busy. When I am at home with the kids I am always trying to stay busy with laundry, dishes, or small projects. I tell them I can't play space ship because I need to weed the garden. I can't play super heroes because I need to clean the grill. I am not able to be a pirate on the swing set because I need to rake up the sticks.

The kids always ask and I am often too busy. Do all the chores need to get done? Yes. Do they need to get completed at that moment, right then? No. But I am being practical. I am being responsible. No imagination is needed to mow the lawn.

So the quote from Miss Zoot's blog has been pinging around the inside of my head a for a couple of weeks now. I keep asking myself "Am I doing too much? What am I avoiding that I really should be doing?"

It is only a matter of time before the kids stop asking me to play, before I disapear from their fantasy worlds. I realize I need to be the astronaut, the hero or the pirate more often.

I think about what Max said in the car, I really need to re-learn what it feels like to turn invisible before I disappear altogether.

Lucky Numbers

I started playing organized sports at about the same time I found out I was evil because I was left handed. When my T-ball coach, while handing out our uniforms, asked me what number I wanted to be, I told him thirteen. I explained that I was an evil lefty, who was born on 666 and my favorite color was black and that 13 would be a perfect number for me. My dad just shook his head and handed me the number thirteen jersey. I was a very Goth-y eight year old.

Number 13 has stuck with me ever since. Sure, I was on certain teams where I could not be #13, but for the most part, when I got to pick what number I wanted, I always went with thirteen. My second choice was 6 due to the whole 666 thing.

I am coaching Maxfield's T-ball team. One of the perks of being the coach is that Maxfield gets first choice on his number. I asked what was his favorite number and he said 2068. I then asked him what number would he want between 1 and 10 and he picked 9. Not that Max knows this but #9 was his Godfather's favorite number. Nine is a good number.

Tonight I am handing out the other kid's jerseys and I am a little nervous. I may be handing out numbers that will stick with these kids for life. I may be doing something that could affect them for years to come.

I know, I know you are thinking what is the big deal? It is just a number, right? Well I think differently. My favorite number,thirteen, that I picked when I was eight years old, it is a 1 and a 3. One and three are now very important numbers in my life. Lauren's birthday is March 10th, a three and a one. We were married on the 13th of the month. Max, my first born, was born March 1st, another 3 and 1.

See where I am going with this? Take the unlucky number 13 and flip it and it becomes significant in some of the most lucky things that have ever happened to me.

So tonight, when I give out these numbers to these little kids, am I going to be determining when, or where, or how their life is going to change?

Handing out their numbers is probably one of the most important things I am going to do as a coach. Right after explaining the importance of a jock strap and protective cup.

What is your lucky number? Does it have significance in your life?

Magic

“How does the door to the Giant open by itself daddy?” Maxfield asked.

“Magic, Max, magic.” I replied.

That was two years ago.

Now anytime we enter a store that has automatic doors Max will pause, thrust his arms forward as if he is casting a spell or shooting invisible beams of energy at the door. His arms break the plane of the motion sensor and the doors open. He knows the doors are not really magic but he loves pretending that he is controlling them with his mind. Sometimes I let him stand there for a few minutes and let him “open” the door for other people. An old couple will approach and Max will jump in front of them, point his arms at the door, the door opens and Max will step aside and let the couple pass.

Wyatt on the other hand thinks all automatic mechanical things are magic. A couple of weeks ago we went out to eat at a restaurant that was built two, maybe three, years ago. While we were waiting for our food Wyatt decided he needed to use the bathroom. It was one of the nicest restaurant bathrooms I have ever been in. Wyatt felt the same. The toilet was automatic and flushed when he got up. The sinks were motion sensor activated and “magically” turned on when he placed his hands under the faucet. The soap and paper towel dispensers were the same.

We returned to the table and Wyatt was so excited that while trying to tell Max he also announced to the whole restaurant that the bathroom was magic. Of course, all of the sudden Max has to go use the restroom and Wyatt needed to come along to show him how everything worked. We spent a good portion of our time in the restroom playing with the equipment (hey now).

Last week I took the boys to the community theater to help with a set-strike. Wyatt needed to use the restroom. Wyatt now expects all public restrooms to be magic. This theater was built in the 1920’s. The bathroom was probably last upgraded in the late 50’s. The only magic in these unisex bathrooms is the fact that they could be haunted. The lock is an old eye-hook and the lights are in a constant flicker. Wyatt hopped off the toilet hoping it would flush on its own. He was disappointed. He waved his hand under the soap dispenser but nothing happened. He had to manually turn on the faucet. He was saddened that he had to grab the C-fold paper towels from the dull silver box fastened to the wall.

He looked around the room and then asked me “Dad, can I have a coin?”

“Why do you need a coin?”

Wyatt pointed to the 25 cent symbol on the tampon dispenser on the wall and said “That one needs money for the magic.”