Please Tell Me That's Pudding

I should know better than to ask, "What's this on the wall/floor/ceiling/baby", but it's always the first thing out of my mouth.  Every great once in a while, I'm pleasantly surprised by the answer.  Maybe, "relieved" is a better term than "pleasantly surprised."

Please tell me that's pudding.  I won't even ask you to explain why you were eating it in the bathroom.  Just...please...

The Bra Trick (For Babies)

Kids ruin everything--your hopes and dreams, bank account, and sexy things.  There used to be something sexy about a girl removing her bra without taking her shirt off.  Then the baby ruined it for me.

  This creepy bastard has also ruined it for me.

If you've read any of the Disgusting Diary, you'd know about Libby's love of playing in poo.  We've had to resort to putting her in onesies lately.  If we don't, she pulls off her bloomers/shorts/pants, rips off her diaper and swings it around in the air like a single-mother trying to make a living.

She can't unbutton the onesie, so we figured we'd be safe.

We were wrong.  Horribly, horribly wrong.

 Better judgment (aka--My Wife) kept me from posting a picture of Libby's used diaper. But, for interested parties, just do a Google Image Search "baby poo" and you'll have an idea of what I mean by "Horribly Wrong".

The girl has skills.  Too many times I've walked in to her room to see her waving a diaper over her head.

"Where'd she get that diaper?", I ask myself.  Then I notice she is no longer wearing one and her onesie is still buttoned.  Either she has learned to unbutton her jumper, remove her diaper, and then re-button her clothes, or she can take her diaper off without removing her clothes.  I've seen the latter in action and if it's any indication of her inhibitions (or lack thereof), well,  at least she'll be the most popular girl at all the parties.

First World School Problems

School officially starts in 29 days.  It's always sad when school starts up again, not necessarily because I'll miss the kids...

Tonguing Around

Nothing says summer like sucking on some frozen, sugary ice-pops.  Once the boy got over the initial fear of his tongue changing colors (he thought it would be permanent), he was up for some color-changing tongue action.

The girl chose blue.  She's no rookie; she knows blue is the best.

The boy, still not completely convinced that his tongue would not be stained for life, chose pink.

I was stuck with an orange pop, because let's face it, nobody likes the orange or green ones.

Elizabeth can't be trusted with things you can squeeze, so she just stood around with her crazy Eddie Vedder hair.

Poor girl.  Maybe if she wouldn't destroy everything I've ever loved, she'd earn a Fla-Vor-Ice or two.

Bored on the 4th of July

It's one of those things that you have to do with your children.  No matter how much I hate crowds, mosquitoes, and heat, I have to take the kids to see the fireworks on the 4th of July.  Thankfully, this year was cool enough that we were in jeans and hoodies; this kept the skeeters away too.  Now, what to do about those crowds?

Thanks to my sister, we found an excellent spot that not only gave us an incredible view, it also gave us a quick escape route when the fireworks were over.  Last year, we spent at least an hour fighting traffic--that was just to get out of the parking lot.  This year, we were out of the lot and on the road in five minutes.  Fireworks can get boring after years of routine viewings and crowd fighting, but  with my new toy, I had more fun than I'd had in a long time.  It also helps that there were brownies, potato-skin chips, and Mountain Dew Voltage.

And, toys to keep the kids busy and/or happy.

Before the show started, Leah had to pee--badly.  I'm talking legs-crossed, crotch-holding, jumping-up-and-down bad.  There were no Johnny On The Spots where we were, so I hunted down a bathroom.  We were in the downtown bar area, so this was no easy feat.  I didn't really want to take her into a bar to pee, most places are 21 and up only, so I searched and searched.  Finally, we walked by a man sitting outside a bar and he said, "Excuse me sir, you have a little girl attached to you".

By this point, I was carrying Leah hoping to find a bathroom before that warm feeling came trickling down my side.  I told him our situation and he offered to let us use his bar.  "Thank goodness", I thought.  Leah did her business and then I gave the bar owner a little of my business; I ordered a coke.

Leah shimmied her way up  a bar stool to order.  Then I saw it--a giant mural of some naked chick just five feet in front of my innocent daughter.  She had just peed, now I almost shat myself.  The woman in the mural posed seductively, her two giant cannon-balls staring right at me.  I swear I could even hear the canons firing.  Turns out the fireworks had just started.  I grabbed our drink, covered the girl's eyes and ran outside for the show:

The fireworks display was amazing, but the shows around our house were even cooler.  We must have been the only family in a three-mile radius that didn't buy fireworks.  I snagged a few shots of our neighbor's disregard for the illegality of fireworks while I lounged in my rocking chair, sipping on an ice-cold beer with my shirt off.  'MERICA!!!

What 4th of July celebration would be complete without Sparklers?  It's interesting to me that the most boring firework on the market is also the most dangerous.  But, I wasn't about to let something that burns anywhere from 1800 to 3000 degrees Fahrenheit keep my kids from having fun.  That would be bad parenting.

This may just have been the Best Day Ever.

Child Health Question

First off, I'd just like to say thank you for submitting your child health question to the internet.  The fact that you were concerned enough about your child to post a question to an online forum (Yahoo Answers) instead of immediately calling your doctor shows the utmost responsibility and care.  One can really feel the panic and desperation you must be going through.  You obviously aren't concerned about things like correct spelling, grammar and punctuation.  This is how I know you care deeply for your child.   So, congratulations to you Momma.

Now, to answer your question.  Your child had a fever but he doesn't now?  Great.  He's also been asleep for almost 15 hours?  Amazing.  Enjoy this time while you can.  My only advice is that you should never wake your child up when they've been asleep for that long.  What if you would have woken him up after ten hours of sleep and then he stayed awake?  Can you imagine?  Also...JUICE!!!???

If you're going to wake your child up to give him a drink, you should only offer him a nice glass of Benadryl.  It will cool his throat and most likely put him back to sleep for another five hours or so.

The Ambidexterous Child

More Parenting Terms Defined in Dad's Dictionary.

A Night of Rest

Yesterday was a long day at work for the wife.  When she came home, she was tired, beat, and just wanted to sleep.  Leah was happy to go snuggle with her while I was left to entertain the other two.  Here's what happened while you were sleeping...

Elizabeth kept trying to eat my food.

Caleb played with the NOOK while I played with the camera.  He said, "Jeez Dad, Angry Birds really chills me out."

Libby destroyed her sister's room.  But, it's hard to be mad at that face.

The boy actually smiled without looking like he was in pain.

I played with my camera some more.

And then we saw an amazing moon in the night-sky.  Enjoy your rest love.  Goodnight.

You'll Miss This One Day

This is part two in my series on horrible parenting advice.  It's advice that's often given in the middle of some hair-pulling, murder-justifying conflict between parent and child.   It could be fighting between brother and sister, putting junk food in the shopping cart every five minutes, jumping on the couch when you've told them not to for the hundredth time, or my personal favorite--trying to have a conversation with a 4-year old.  For those of you that haven't had the joy of such an encounter, it involves you answering a series of "Why" questions.  It often ends with either a Google Search or you questioning your entire life.  Regardless of the end result, you'll be stressed.

  Is there anything Google doesn't know?

For some reason, these things tend to happen in public.  And, the second you let out a much-needed 'sigh', somebody says, "You'll miss this one day."  It's here that I'd like to call them out on their BS.  Please, tell me, what part of "this" will I miss?  The constant harassment?  Never-ending questions?  Being pooped on? This:




I have a theory on why people say such ridiculous things:  Evolution is designed so that older parents forget how miserable it was raising kids.  That way, they can talk their adult children into having kids of their own so the cycle of life continues.  It's also a way of ensuring that you don't kill your children now, thus preventing their future contributions to social security.

What these people are trying to say is that they miss the idea of raising kids.  The thought of molding a young mind and guiding a child to become all that he/she can is something to aspire to indeed.  The reality though, is that instead of molding minds and guiding, you're filling sippy cups and crying, wondering where you went wrong.

Thanks for the advice, but I will not miss this.

Sometimes, you need Google to answer your own questions.

Catch part one of my horrible parenting advice series:  Enjoy Your Kids While They're Young.

M-R-I Gotta Get One of These.

When it comes to getting a break from the kids, I'll take one any way I can.  Often these respites from my fatherly duties are free of charge---courtesy of MeMaw.  Today, my break cost thousands of dollars.

The most peaceful rest I've had since school let out.

Recent back pain and a foot that's been asleep for two months (at least part of me is getting rest) led me to an MRI today.  Sure it's expensive, but it's also an hour and a half that I'm not fulfilling requests and listening to sibling rivalries.

Instead, I was inserted into a giant tube with approximately two inches of breathing space and moving room around my body.  When I first began my joy ride into the beast, the tech told me that my shoulders would be smashed together at first.  "Don't worry", she said, "Once you get in all the way it opens up a little bit."

Little bit indeed.  Thankfully, my claustrophobia took a back seat to the gentle jack-hammering sounds of the magnet.  If you've never had an MRI, just imagine yourself riding in a helicopter while listening to a Fatboy Slim record.  You're not sure whether you're hearing the thip-thip-thip of the copter's blades or whether the record is stuck, but either way, it's better than listening to your kids.

It's the most peace I've had since school let out for the summer.  And, since I don't own a helicopter (yet) or an MRI machine,  I'll be blasting The Rockafeller Skank until school starts back up.

Bib Skipper

I'd like to submit photographic evidence for the uselessness of bibs.  The stain-sticked onesie below was nestled snugly underneath an XL, plastic bib.  Witness its glorious effectiveness:

Skip the bib and these other Pointless Baby Items.  And, if you really want to avoid stained clothes, there's only one option.

Say Hello To My Little Friend.

"Silence is golden, unless you have kids--then it's just suspicious."

I don't know who said it  and I don't care enough to take five seconds to do a Google search.  But I can identify with the genius behind the phrase.  Yesterday, I received a little dose of the silent treatment from Leah.  The only time she is quiet is when she's unconscious or getting into trouble.  Otherwise, it's rapid-fire demands and questions.   How I wish she was asleep yesterday.

I was working on the computer (writing some quality parenting advice, no doubt) when I thought, "It's awfully quiet in this house...a little too quiet".  I went downstairs and found her playing nicely with the cat.

  Nothing suspicious looking here.

I asked her what she was doing and she said, "Playing with Sparky."  

"You are?", I replied.

"Yes, we dot a mouse!"

"A mouse?  How fun!"  Leah loves to play make-believe, so I thought her and the cat were playing a fun little game.  Then she asked me.

"You wan nuh see her?"

"Sure", I said, fully expecting her to hold out a stuffed animal, a Lego block, or some other small toy she pretended was a mouse.

Then this:

 Holy Mother of God!

I liked it better when she was just playing with mouse traps.

As I Lay Sewing

This 4th of July, I celebrate my independence by learning to sew.  No longer shall I throw away shoddy products and be at the mercy of manufacturers and corporations.  No!  I pick up the needle and bravely march forward--repairing, reviving, and reclaiming what is mine.  Sewing is metal.

 The student (me) fixing the master's (the wife) patch job.

Flesh Wounds and Life Lessons

I had the opportunity to share a special Dad and Daughter moment last night with Leah.  Rachel and I were sitting on the back deck discussing how old we were.  I had just sat down with an ice-cold Lemon Shandy and began whittling a new door-stop while my wife worked on chopping soap for our special home-made laundry detergent.  I said we were old.

The scene of the bloody crime.

I was whittling away and quenching my thirst when Leah came out to see what we were doing.  "I not see eww", as she says.  Well, she found us (she always does, no matter how hard we hide) and like all inquisitive four-year olds, wanted to know what we were doing.

 I showed her my extremely sharp knife, while Rach showed her the soap.  Around that time the baby started screaming about something, so Rachel stood up to deal with her.

About that time, I thought to myself, "There has to be a quicker way to whittle this stupid thing."  I rearranged the block of wood and stared at it for a while, pondering my next move.  "If I cut this way, I'm sure to cut my finger off", I thought to myself.  "Oh, I'll just try it one time, I won't even use full cutting pressure.  It'll be alright.  One time won't hurt."

That's when it happened.

One swipe of the blade and thirteen blood-soaked paper towels later, I had one hell of a flesh wound.  After the bleeding and dizziness stopped, I turned this into an important life lesson for Leah.  I slowly inched towards her and said, "See Leah, one time is all it takes.  People will tell you that one time won't hurt,  but look at Daddy's finger.  That's what can happen 'Just One Time'.  Please remember this baby, one time." 

She must have taken this lesson seriously, because she immediately teared up and began to tend to my wound.  Rachel suggested I go to the Emergency Room and get stitches, but let's face it,  the E.R. doctor wouldn't give me a kiss and a Dora necklace.