2014-6-12

Caleb:  You taught Leah that the "High-Yah" sound is the most important tool of Kah-Rah-Tay.  You explained to her the difference between a Black Belt (Level I) and a Blacker Belt (Level II).  You ended by telling her to "Let your heart be your guide". 

Maybe it's time to scale back on Spongebob.

Leah:  You listened to Caleb---seriously, for like twenty minutes.  And, you asked questions.  If you ever want to extend the same courtesy to me it would be appreciated.

Elizabeth:  Tricycle playgroup at the park today.  You can finally pedal your trike by yourself.  Now, if you could only listen to me when I tell you to stop climbing up the slides.

If these were installed on slides, it could eliminate the problem altogether.

Early Bloomer

I love digging through the boy's backpack when he gets home from school.  I never know what I'm going to find.  Sometimes it's good grades and others it's artwork that only a mother could love.  Once in a while, it's a lunch box full of soggy sandwich bread and chocolate milk.  And then, on rare occasions, I get a note from a teacher that makes me laugh and makes me love the boy even more.

I've always thought of my son as a late bloomer.  He reached many developmental milestones later than normal and he still loves to watch cartoons.  I don't mean the awesome, ultra-violent super-hero cartoons either.  But, there is one area in which he has no problem--inviting girls over.  The only problem is that these girls aren't his age...they're his teachers.

 Four different teachers in as many years and he's invited them all over to the house.  At least he's being social.

F is for Family

The dining room is one of the most important rooms in the house.  Sharing a meal around the table allows you to connect with your family.  Wall art lets you speak your mind without using curse words:

2014-5-16

Caleb:  I am excited about how much you love playing Assassin's Creed Black Flag.  Even better, you haven't actually assassinated anybody yet.  Sure, you've blown up hundreds of ships that were probably carrying just as many passengers, but it's a detached form of assassination and I'm cool with that.

Leah:  What can I say.  Your love of Batman is exceeded only by your love for dressing up like a Princess.  I'm not sure what's going on with the biker jacket.













Elizabeth:  Somehow, I let your Mom talk me in to potty-training you--a chore that is made less painful every time your rise from your Elmo Potty saying "Empty."  On a side note:  What kind of creepy monster snorkels in the toilet tank?

A Book In The Works

My editor recently suggested that I start working on a book.  For the past few days, I've been brainstorming--trying to come up with a few good ideas.  Here's what I have so far:

Option 1:  What the Faulkner?

A story written in stream-of-consciousness format.  The story will be science-fiction and at the end you realize that all the characters were actually possessed by the same evil spirit.  So, while you thought you were reading each person's thoughts, it was really the demon all along.  James Franco will get the movie rights.

Option 2:  M. To The Night

A suspense/thriller novel written as an ode to M. Night Shyamalan.  Misdirection and mystery will keep you wondering who is really alive, what's living in the water, and who is safe from plants.  The twist-ending is that there is no twist-ending and what you thought was happening from the beginning was, in fact, what was happening.  M. Night Shyamalan will not get the movie rights.

Option 3:  The China Palindrome

The book will be one giant palindrome that can be read backwards as well as forwards.  The "front cover" will be on the back.  It's the story of a dying Kung-Fu Master told through the eyes of his last surviving student.  So far, all I have is:  "Egad!  Lo, old age!"

Option 4:  The Parenting Dad Presents:  Reasons To Have Children

I had to scratch this project, there just wasn't enough material.  It makes for a nice pamphlet though that could be handed out in airports or left in bathrooms near the condom machine.

Option 5:  Dad and Bloated

An alternate-history story on what would have happened had the Stone Temple Pilots not achieved the level of success they did.  After playing a show in a local bar to less than ten people, struggling singer Scott Weiland bumps into the barkeep (I like the word barkeep) drenching them both with alcohol and cigarette ash.  Long story short, they fall in love and he becomes a Dad to two beautiful children.  He still does a lot of heroin though.

Recitals (aka-Another Reason To Not Have Kids)

If the last three hours of my life have taught me anything, it's this:  When a word begins with "RE", that's your sign that nothing good is about to happen--repossession, revenge, rectal exams--see.   Recitals are no different.

Recitals, as well as rectal exams, have their strong points.  At a recital, you finally get to see the fruit of your child's labor.  All those hours spent practicing and studying come to fruition, in musical format, so that you can see, hear, and determine for yourself----Am I getting my money's worth?

  If these seats are any indication, the answer is, No, I am not.

 If I could just sit and watch my daughter do her thing, recitals would be amazing.  However, that is not the case.  Last year, we learned the hard way, that you have to sit through all three hours of the recital just to watch your kid's 5-minute routine.  As one who likes to learn from his mistakes, we enrolled her in an extra class this year.  One extra class gets her into three more routines.  That's simple math and a great deal.  Sure, we pay a little more for the second class, but can you put a price on your child's happiness?

 Yes. Yes you can. The price is $52/month.

So this year, twenty minutes of those three hours are spent watching our little princess pirouette, tumble, and cart-wheel to her heart's content.  The problem lies in the other 2 hours and 40 minutes.  You have to watch other people's kids.  And their kids suck.

It's like this:  when you watch your child on stage, whether it's playing the piano, singing, or dancing, it's amazing.  It doesn't matter how bad your kid actually is.  Parents are blinded.  It's called the American Idol effect and it makes for a great first few episodes of reality television--the exception being Sanjaya.

When Leah is on stage, I'm in the zone, focused, concentrating on every move she makes.  There are no other kids up there.  It's just her.  It's awesome, she's awesome, everything is awesome.  Then, she exits stage right and I'm left having to watch your kids stink up the place.

With nobody to hold my undivided attention, my eyes scan the entire stage watching a dozen students twirl around and flail limbs to their own beat.  Good Lord, what's wrong with these kids?  I've seen Kung-Fu movies that were less out-of-sync.

The one exception is the 3-4-year old group.  Those kids are money.  One kid just sat down on stage all night, while another one faced the wrong direction.  Best.  Performance. Of the night.

Watching the little kids is fun whether they are your children or not.  Watching the older kids is sorta creepy.  The creepiness level is largely dependent upon the song chosen.  I don't want to watch a bunch of prepubescent girls shake their stuff to lyrics like, "Where you thinking of me when you made love to him."

I don't know what the song was, but it provides a strong case for encouraging your children to listen to heavy metal.  And, if this rant has done anything, I hope it encourages you to avoid having children.  Or, to at least avoid enrolling them in extracurricular activities that result in recitals.  If you find yourself in a situation where you have already procreated, don't worry.  There are a couple good things about kids.  Like this.