Monday, June 24, 2013

My Little Tumbelina

Before you sign your kid up for a child gymnastics class, there are a few things you should know.  Sure, the girls look cute in their dance outfits and they love getting their hair done, but that all costs money.  Precious, precious money that you could otherwise be spending on bacon and Redd's Apple Ale.  Don't commit to that monthly gym fee until you've counted up the costs.

Classes:  One class runs 30 dollars a month.  The more classes you enroll your child in, the less each class costs.  So, for gymnastics and dance, we'd shell out 52 dollars.  Throw in some jazz hands and you're talking 70 bucks a month.  Sure it's a great deal, but who wants to sit through a jazz recital?

What bothers me the most about classes is that parents aren't allowed to watch.  We drop off Leah for 45-minutes and then come back.  I don't know what's going on in there each week.

 We could be shelling out all of this money for her to do nothing but somersaults each week.  Then again, it's 3/4 of an hour that my wife and I get to revert back from a zone defense to one-on-one coverage, so it's well worth it.

Dance Outfit:  While the girls look cute in their gymnastics outfits, it doesn't necessarily follow that the outfits themselves are cute.  In fact, the one we had to buy for Leah was pretty hideous.  It also cost 61 dollars and she wore it twice.  But, she was cute enough to get flowers from some guy in the audience:


The tumbling outfit that we bought her for classes looks better than this one, it only cost 20 dollars, and she wore it every week to practice from September to May.

Hair Styling:  Once you've blown money on clothes, it's time to throw more of it away on fancy hair-dos that last two or three days.  I couldn't tell you how much it costs to get hair done, because I opted for The Deb hair-do, you can't go wrong with a classic.  My wife later opted to undo my hairdo and do a new do.  That's my boo.

Rehearsal Fees:  At the end of the tumbling season (we break for summer), you get to shell out another 30 bucks for "The Big Night".  And since you have no idea what your little one has been doing in class all year, you have to pay to see what you've been paying for.  It's a brilliant business strategy and were I not a victim of its design, I would applaud it.

(Recitals:  A reason to not have kids)

Hemorrhoid Cream:  It would be awesome if you could come and watch your daughter perform her routine and then leave wouldn't it?  Yeah, well you can't.  Instead, you can sit through three hours of watching other parents' kids twirl, cart-wheel, and jazz-handing, while you wait for your daughter's 5-minute routine to come up.

Here's the breakdown:

Classes:     $30/month X 9 months = $270
Outfits:       $61 ugly routine dress + 20 beautiful practice dress = $81
Hair Do:      $45 (if you're a sucker)
Rehearsal: $30
Cream:       $3.28 (Equate brand)

Total:  $429.28

For a little over four-hundred dollars you can get 5-minutes of entertainment.  Was it worth it?


Every Penny!


Sunday, June 23, 2013

Scumbag Pop-Tarts

Why is it that my son can wake up at 5 a.m. and fall right back to sleep for three hours, yet when I've been woken at 5 a.m. there's no chance of me sleeping again?





Saturday, June 22, 2013

An Ear-Piercing Shriek.

Ear piercings, nail polish, and dresses--Oh My!  My little girl is growing up and I'm not ready for it.  A few weeks ago, we took Leah to get her ears pierced.  I can't remember now what brought it up, but she asked to get them pierced and when pretty girls ask their finger-wrapped Daddies for things, they get them.  Before we took her to the mall, I took one last picture of those precious, unaltered ears.  I want to remember my innocent little girl before she ends up with piercings in places I can't photograph.  If she loves piercings as much as she loves tattoos, I'm in trouble.




On the way to the mall, Caleb asked what would happen to his sister.  "Well, they're going to punch a hole in Leah's ear", I said.  "Why would anybody want to do that?", Caleb asked.  "I don't know son, I don't know." 

When we arrived at the mall, there was another little girl (about Lee's age) sitting in the chair, waiting to get her ear's pierced.  MeMaw, in her wisdom, suggested that we walk around the mall until the other girl was finished.  "It might scare Leah, if the girl cries", she said.

Good Call MeMaw!

We were at the other end of the mall when we heard it--an ear-piercing shriek that sounded like two bobcats going at it.  I'm sure every stray dog within a two-mile radius was circling outside the mall doors.  The screaming and crying was so bad that we ducked into the mall's library for 30-minutes while we waited for the little girl to compose herself.  Now I was concerned about my little girl and her ability to take a piercing gun to her ears.


Lee looked a little concerned herself.  Better still her fears by showing her some bright, shiny jewelry.


Much better.  With her new earrings picked out, there was only one thing left to do--mark and tag, baby!


She's starting to look a little concerned again.  As nervous as Leah was, I think her Mom and I were even more so.  Lee is a hot, crying mess by nature and I knew that if it went bad, the crying might not stop.  So how did she do?  Take a look:



What a trooper.  Enjoy those earrings girl, you earned them.


Thursday, June 20, 2013

Who's Your Mama?



Libby has a fairly wide range of words for her age--none of which are the word "Daddy."  As the one who spends the most time with her, it makes me sad.  I'll be changing her diaper and the entire time she's saying, "Momma, mom-mom-mom, Momma."  And I'll reply with, "Your momma is at work."  A couple of days ago, I realized that I AM Momma.

While Rach was holding her, Elizabeth pointed to me, held out her hands and said, "Momma."   Since then, I've noticed that when she says, "Momma", she is looking right at me or coming towards me--usually because I have food.

This is one man that is proud to be a Momma.  Now, if I can just teach her to say "Hey, Lady" when Rach gets home from work.




Shriner Whiner

Every year, the Shriner Circus comes to our little town.  Every year, the kids want to go.  Every year, it's the same.  People juggle, animals pretend they're people, and acrobats acrobat.  It gets old once you've seen it six years in a row.  But, I don't go to watch the circus, I go to watch my kids watch the circus.  Their facial expressions are more entertaining than anything you'll see in the ring---except for six dudes riding motorcycles in a steel cage, that shit's awesome.

  I told you. Awesome.

While I didn't make it to the circus this year (I had heavy-metal related commitments to attend to), my wife did.  Reluctantly, I lent her my new camera .  And, even though I didn't get to watch the circus, I still got to see my kids watch the circus.

  She's brave letting him drink an entire soda at 7:30p.m.

  She's seen this circus three times before. Still she smiles.

  Still smiling.

  I think he just realized he's seen this act before.

  And he is not happy about it.

  She realizes it too.

  Another act he's seen before. He's getting mad now.


 You wouldn't like him when he's mad. Better get him on the pony rides quick.

  That's better.

  Much better.

See you at next year's circus!





Friday, June 14, 2013

Rules

My Dad says that the grandkids remind him of me.  That's funny, because I don't remember doing half of the horrible crap that they've done.  I'm closing down my Facebook "Rules" page and posting them all here for now.  Perhaps they'll help new dads get a glimpse of what they're in for.  Maybe these rules will help prevent teen pregnancies.  If I'd known what I was in for, I certainly wouldn't have ever been interested in sex.

Rule #12 - Although poop is quite easy to work with, it is not commonly found in modern forms of art. So keep it in your diaper or the toilet and off of your bedroom wall.

Rule#24 -  Do not eat drywall. I'm already disappointed in you for not eating the pot roast and green beans I made. Then you pull this stunt?

Rule # 28 - Do not argue over the cup of Dairy Queen tap water when there is a Cookie Dough Blizzard melting in front of both of you.

Rule #8 - Do not chew on your bed. Our dog, which eats crap, drinks out of the toilet and sniffs butt holes has this rule down. Why can't you? This brings me to Rule#9: Do not sniff butt holes.


 Rule#30:  Daddy's acoustic guitar is an instrument not a toy box. It is also not a lunchbox. Keep your Cherry Pop-Tarts out of it.

Rule#20: Just because you can eat it, that doesn't mean that fish can eat it. In fact, the oils that these croutons release are deadly to goldfish.


Rule#14:  Do not squeeze dish soap into the fish tank. They do not enjoy bubble baths and it kills them. On the plus side, Daddy is glad he no longer has to clean the tank.

Rule#22: Although Vaseline has many fine and useful applications to various body parts, your hair is not really one of them. Please do not lather your hair with it. And while we're on the subject, just because it's called Petroleum Jelly, doesn't mean you should treat it as you would Grape Jelly. Do not eat it.


Rule#18: Take off your brand new shirt before you attempt to feed yourself.


Rule#26: No, actually, those goats do not poop Cocoa Puffs. Do not touch or eat anything that comes out of an animal's hind quarters.


Rule#29: Do not leave your panties to smolder on the lampshade. Not only did you almost burn the house down, but now your mother and I are worried about your future years and reputation at college.


Rule #1 - Learning to potty train is a new experience. I understand it is hard to grasp it all right away. Having said that, Do not use toilet paper to wipe your nose after using that same piece of toilet paper to wipe your anus or naughty bits.



Read about more Rules I Thought I'd Never Have To Make.

Putting the POO in POOL

I've tried to take the kids to the park as much as possible this summer--not so much for their sake as for my sanity.  The park I prefer to go to happens to be right next to the city pool.  Inside the pool area is a child-sized water park with a slide, water canons, and all other kinds of things that shoot water directly at your toddler's face.  It's amazing...except for when I take the kids to the park and all they want to do is go to the pool.

  Pay no attention to the small print.

One of my goals for this summer is to say "Yes" to the kids more often.  While this rule does not apply to breakfast food choices ("No Leah, you can not have ice cream for breakfast"), I have been trying to follow the rule when the kids make other requests.  Since they ask to go to the pool every time we go to the park, I finally said yes.

The only reason I had said 'No' for so long was because I dreaded the thought of having to watch all three of them at the pool by myself.  How hard could it be though, right?


The problems started before we even left the house.  Caleb had outgrown his swimming trunks, so we had to settle for a pair of sweat-shorts.  I'm not sure what sweat-shorts are made of, but I'm pretty sure it's the same stuff they use to make sponges.   He picked up at least twenty pounds with those soggy shorts, and with no way to tie them, it was an interesting day at the pool.  I don't usually mind seeing a little butt-crack at the pool...as long as it's not my son's.  I kept waiting for one of the Lifeguards to ask us to leave.

"Sir, you put sweat-shorts on your son and now he's mooning everybody.  We're going to have to ask you to leave, but not until we've contacted DCFS and the police."

My son actually was told to leave the pool.  It wasn't because of his mooning though.  It was his height:

  Pay not attention to the extremely large print.

Feeling rejected, his 47-inch frame wandered over to the edge of the pool, where I sat playing with Libby.  I was relieved to know that I would no longer have to worry about his pants falling down.  But, what was he supposed to do now?  I couldn't let him go to the big pool by himself and we hadn't been there long enough to justify going home already.  Libby would soon solve our little problem.

The three of us were sitting on the edge of the pool, playing nicely, when suddenly...it happened.  There is really no way to describe the horror of what I saw, perhaps a video would help.


That's about right.  I guess we need to buy the next size up in Swim Diapers.  At least I was justified in taking the kids home now.

Monday, June 10, 2013

Disgusting Father's Day

I decided to treat myself to an early Father's Day present this year.  After Leah decided to take up photography, it wasn't long before she had broken two of our digital cameras.  This time, I bought a nice one.  One that Leah will never touch.  One that I reluctantly let the Wife take on a recent trip to the circus.  It takes amazing photos, just look at that resolution.



Man's Best Friend

Reason To Have Kids #31:  You'll never have to feed the dog again.


Pavlov's dogs had their bells.  Our dog has the plastic, dishwasher-safe, high-chair tray.  Every time that tray clicks in to place, she comes running, mouth salivating, ready to share some of the baby's food.

One of the sad truths that you learn growing up is that your best friend might not consider you his or her best friend.  This applies to dogs as well.





Interior Designing and Milk

Teaching toddlers to clean up after themselves is like teaching tornadoes to avoid trailer parks.  It's not going to happen.  Your best bet in both situations is to find shelter and clean up after the damage is done.


The two older kids are pretty good about cleaning up after themselves.  They'll take their plates to the kitchen after meals and put their cups in the sink when they're done.  Then there's Libby.  She'll just throw stuff whenever and wherever she wants, toys, books, diapers, and most recently, her sippy cup.

Milk goes sour pretty quick, even more so in a sippy cup.  It must be the BPA.  Add time to the mix and you're in for a surprise.

Our couch has armrests that open up.  Inside there is a spot to hold the remote control.  Problem is, we can't find the remote control, so it ends up holding Pop-Tarts, bread crust, grapes, and anything else the kids decide to hide in there.  Libby decided it would be fun to hide her recently poured full glass of milk inside.

I'm not sure how long the cup was sitting in the armrest.  I will say this though.  It was sitting in there long enough to explode--all over the couch, the carpet, and my wife who was unfortunate enough to make the discovery.

 Use baking soda they said. It will remove the smell they said.

So what did we learn?  Given enough time, a sippy cup full of milk will explode.  Also, given a couple of weeks, the smell will remain.


Tuesday, June 4, 2013

Ship Up or Shape Out

This summer, I've made a resolution to get outside with the kids more often.  The last couple of summers I've been what you'd call a lazy slob.  Part of this is due to the "Hygiene Dip" and part of it comes from sitting while I work.  While the kids run around and play outside, I'm inside the house sitting down in front of a computer working on one of the websites.  My computer chair has an ass-print that would make hardcore gamers proud.

  Parenting: You're doing it right.

My goal this summer is to get out of the house and head to the park for some exercise.  Lucky for us, there is no shortage of parks nearby.  Yesterday, we hit up the park across from the kids' school in hopes of gaining some new friends and losing a little weight.

Unfortunately, the park was empty for at least an hour (or at least it felt like an hour), but in that time, the kids managed to get me on a pretty strict workout.  Here's how it went down.

  Time to ship up!

The playground is a giant ship with all kinds of things to do--none of which a grown man has any business doing.  Especially a grown man like myself who weighs too much to ride the horses at The Gold Mine Ranch.  Nevertheless, Caleb developed a hardcore 7-step exercise routine for me.  So, after downing the last drop of my sugary 20-ounce Mountain Dew and hiking up my pants, I began working out.

First, he expected me to crawl through this teeny, tiny, hole:

  A teeny, tiny hole that my 4-year old can barely get through.

Then, it was up and out an even smaller hole.  Caleb was going easy on me and told me that since I was so big, I probably wouldn't fit and I could just crawl back out and climb up the ladder.  He hasn't learned how stubborn his Dad is yet, so with much groaning and muscle-straining, up and out I went.

  Yep, that's the hole. And I owned it.

Step three involved swinging from the trapeze.  I'm not a gambling man, but I'd bet that if I my 6-foot 3-inch frame weighs too much to ride a horse, some little trapeze built for 4-foot, fifty-pound 1st-graders won't support my frame either.  Only one way to find out right?

 Yes, my butt dragged on the bottom.
NB4 Poopdeck

With my butt already hurting from hitting the deck, it only made sense that the boy make me use that same aching butt to go down the slide next.


Once we all hit the bottom of the slide, it was time to walk the plank back up to the helm and take a little boat ride.  All the kids took turns commanding the vessel and it wasn't long before I was ready to abandon ship and return to my park bench where another sugary soft-drink (this time a Pepsi) lay waiting.  But, Caleb still had two more exercises for me before we could call it a day.


"Remember that tiny hole you crawled in at the beginning?  Let's do that one more time Daddy.  Except, instead of crawling up and out through the tiny hole, let's climb up and stick our heads through the windows--both of them.  Yeah, that'd be great."


Let's end the workout on a high note.  Caleb, once again informing me of the limitations of my massive, pudgy frame, said that I could push him and his sister on the glider instead of actually riding it myself.  Fine.  Whatever.  Are we done now?


Why don't you kids swing while Daddy sits down, regains his breath, and downs another soda.


Correction: Why don't you kids swing while Daddy sits down, regains his breath, and watches Leah down his soda.  I swear, some days it's like you've been kicked in the face with two size 11's.




I was so glad when somebody else finally showed up.

Adventures in Babysitter Stealing



After an hour or so of Caleb running me ragged through his obstacle course, I was excited to see another parent coming up to the playground.  Maybe my kids would leave me the hell alone and play with somebody else.  As I watched this Mommy pushing her stroller up to the park benches, I thought, "Damn she looks young.  Too young to have a toddler."  When she turned around to get her kid out of the stroller, her T-shirt confirmed my thoughts.

"Class of 2013" it said in big, bold letters.  I started looking around, waiting to see the 16 and Pregnant film crew, but to no avail.

After talking with her for a while, I found out she was the babysitter.  Now I'm faced with a dilemma.  We've been looking for a babysitter for some time now.  Me-Maw just spent a week watching all three of our kids (and cousin Riley) while we were on vacation.  We can plan on her not wanting to watch them again anytime soon, so if the wife and I want a date-night between now and next year's vacation, we're going to need a sitter.

But here's the problem...I'm a dude.  An obvious observation, but one that becomes more prominent when I take the kids to the park and am sitting all alone on a bench while the other Moms chat it up.

As a dude, I felt it would be wrong to ask this young girl for her phone number so she could baby-sit for us.  If my daughter told me that an older man asked for her phone number, I'd have called her crazy for giving it to him.  I'd have said "baby-sitting" while my hands were in the air making quotation marks.

  I'm sure he'd love for you to come over and "babysit."

I've watched plenty of NBC's To Catch A Predator and my scraggly beard and Army cap makes me look like a fine candidate for the show.  Maybe I should have looked for that film crew.  Before Chris Hansen could pop out of a bush, I walked back to my park bench, had a drink, and contemplated where the wife and I would go for our next vacation.  It seems that will be the next time we have a date.