Poems For Dad

I hate getting cards.  Birthday, Christmas, Father's Day, I don't care what the occasion is, don't send me one.  First of all, they're too expensive.  If you really want to spend five bucks on me, bring me a Chalupa Value Meal from Taco Bell.  Your card will be opened and checked for cash,  the text skimmed, and then the whole thing is going in the trash.  At least the Baja Chalupa and Fire Sauce will stay with me for a couple days.

And don't you dare send me a card with glitter on it.  If I wanted glitter all over me I'd hang out at my local "gentleman's" club.  (Not that I know where it is honey.) Finally, please, please do not send me some mushy card that's all touchy feely.  I'm a dude, I don't do feelings well and I definitely don't do poems.

 Music that nobody wants to hear.

If you do feel compelled to send a poem, be aware that poems for dad should either be in limerick form or standard meter.  I don't want any of that Shakespearean meter that no one can read or any of that Haiku crap.  The Japanese gave us Sudoku and Soy Sauce, they can keep their syllabiphillic poetry.  So before you send your dad a card with a nice poem, why not consider just giving him a phone call and saving your money. It's probably money he loaned you anyway.  Get a job.

Down With The Sickness

I'd love to write about how amazing this Thanksgiving has been.  I'd love to say that we spent the day with relatives near and far and that we had a blast playing Thanksgiving party games, watching football and pigging out.  But, I can't.  What I can do is show you with one simple picture what our Thanksgiving has been like.  Prepare yourself.

 One eye half-closed, hair like a bird's nest, and glazed eyes--that pretty well sums it up for us.

Sickness has been in this house since Sunday night and the plague has been spreading and getting stronger. So while the rest of our family is next door living it up, we've been popping pills and blowing noses.  They did drop a plate of food off outside our front door earlier--I believe that's how they serve it in prison.  This year, my "Thanks" are a little different from last year.

I'm thankful for:

Scientific advancements that allow me to take a pill to combat whatever vile thing is thriving inside of me.

The guy that decided Kleenex could benefit from a drop of Aloe.

Triple-soothing lemon drops.  They're like regular lemon drops but three times better.

Hot Toddies.  They're like regular lemon drops but taste less like lemon and more like whiskey.

Sweatpants.

Professional Football.  Because yelling at the television clears my throat.

And finally, family.  Even though I hold you all responsible for infecting me there's nobody else I'd rather have taking care of me.  Except maybe Soleil Moon Frye.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING

Update (2013-11-30):  I was really hoping you would survive the week without getting sick Libby.  Alas, it wasn't meant to be.  The virus has not been kind to you:

Treat Yo' Self

With Christmas not far away, it's time to start thinking about toys for the kids.  I've always tried to stay away from presents that need batteries and make a lot of noise, but what if your child is the one making all the noise?  And, what if her battery never runs out?

Now, I know what you're thinking.  The box says 5+ years, but my 3-year old could really use this.  Don't worry.  A little hem here, an alteration there, and you're tiny toddler will be rocking back and forth in the corner in no time.  I would highly recommend a dog cone to keep your child from gnawing through the straps--the leather isn't of the highest quality.

Some children may get claustrophobic with their arms wrapped around themselves tightly  and fastened securely behind their backs with leather straps.  (Big Babies!!!)  For those children, you might want to consider something a little less intense.

 Again, don't let the age restriction scare you.  The ankles of a 7-year old are quite larger than those of a 6-month old baby.  But who could possibly need this more than a young baby that just learned how to crawl?  Not to worry.  The ankle bracelet is adjustable and you could always put this around your baby's waist if need be.

For more information or to purchase products, visit Control Toys.  Not matter what you decide to buy this holiday season, the important thing to remember is that a gift for your child can be a present for you.

Note To Self #3

Note to Self:  Hide the Halloween candy better.

As I was cleaning the house this morning, I heard Leah stirring around upstairs.  I finished stocking the bathroom with t.p. and diapers then started working on the bedrooms.  From the other room, I offered to make her breakfast, but she said she was already eating.  When I went to check on her, I saw that she did indeed have breakfast in front of her:

He's Crafty

Last year, the kids and I worked through a bunch of Halloween craft ideas we'd found.  I have a lot of Halloween crafts to do this year courtesy of Pinterest, the local library, and Chad (thanks dude).  SPOILER ALERT:  Shameless Plug on the way!

Rather than post them here, I'll be featuring them on my educational website, www.free-math-handwriting-and-reading-worksheets.com.  I'll be posting Halloween coloring pages, activities, crafts, and more.  You can check out all the Halloween Craft Ideas here.

With that said, I'd still like to post one simple idea that I tried yesterday:  Monster Drinks.

No, not those monster drinks.  Energy in a can is the last thing my kids need.  These monster drinks:

A little Sunny D and Kiwi juice, construction paper, and craftiness goes a long way. But what did the kids think?

I think she liked it.

The boy is usually a tough sell though.

Usually.

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.

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.

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.

Hairy Mother's Day

Mother's Day is a time for mothers to sit back, relax, and enjoy a day of not having to wait on anybody.  It's the polar opposite of Father's Day.  Mother's Day is all candy, flowers, and kindness while Father's Day is all beer, bacon, and booty.

Except this year, for my wife, there was booty.  I'm not talking the good kind though.  I'm talking hairy man-ass.  You see, my back gets thrown out more than a cursing back-up dancer in a Southern Baptist church.  And, like all good men, I fight the pain for a solid six weeks (or months) before doing anything about it.

It's finally broken me and I can't take the pain anymore.  I can't sit, I can't lift the baby, and I can't do much of anything other than make grunting noises.  If it wasn't for our six-hour flight coming up on Friday, I still wouldn't do anything about it.

But on Mother's Day, my wife had enough of my groans and grunts.  She said (and I quote), "Stop whining like a little bitch and come here."  God, how I love her.

The next 45 minutes were pure torture.

She had me lay down and began to work my buttocks over with an Ultrasound machine, a heating pad, some weird vibrating belt-sander, and a bag of frozen peas.  I won't give you the gory details, but I will say I feel violated.  Not the good kind of violated, but the prison kind.  I'm pretty sure what she did to me is illegal in most states.

Her tools of torture.

 When she finished, she told me to roll over, go to sleep, and never feed her those peas.  I'm not sure, but she might have lit a cigarette when she was done.  Torture for me.  Pleasure for her.  It's possibly the best Mother's Day present she's received.  Forty-five minutes of causing me bodily harm.  Two days later and I still can't walk straight.

She spent so much time working on me on Mother's Day.  I feel bad.  I owe her.  Perhaps another home-cooked meal would be a good place to start.

  Bottoms up!

Pack-Rat Parenting

I love my Mom.  And I say that not only because she finally ditched dial-up and can now read this blog, but because I mean it.  Having said that...she's a pack rat.  She saves everything.  Maybe it's better to say that she saved everything.  Everything from my childhood.  18 years worth of birthday cards, newspaper clippings, Perfect Attendance records, and of course, a jar of baby teeth.

Some of the things she gave me were extremely cool (as in nerdy):

  First Editions of Simpson Comics

  The movie seemed cool at the time.  Thank God for Christopher Nolan.

It's not easy to save that stuff, especially the baby teeth.  Caleb swallowed the first two teeth he lost and if it wasn't for spitting the third one out in the sink, it probably would have met the same digestive demise.

My parents have given me all the stuff they saved for me.  At least, I hope that's all there is, we don't have room for much more.  It has been a fun trip down memory lane,  perusing through all the old stuff, but between my rubber tubs of memories and my wife's we're running out of space.

I suggested she throw out all of her old stuffed animals and homecoming dresses.  She suggested I ditch my old comic books and basketball cards.

Stalemate.

When it comes to our children, I'd love to be able to save all of their drawings, school papers, and poorly-kilned ashtrays.  While the basement is full (at least 5 large Rubber-Maid tubs) of our memories, there is always more space in space.   Cyberspace.

  18 years of life reduced to a dark corner of the utility room.

Now, when my kids come home from school waving their papers proudly in the air, I can praise their hard work, take a picture, and wait for them to leave the room before throwing their crowning achievements in the trash.  I figure when they get older, instead of handing them five rubber tubs full of memories, I can hand them a flash drive.  Then again, you can't fit some of the coolest things on a flash drive:

  Thanks Mom!*

*Not Pictured:  Man-at-Arms, Orko, Tri-Klops, Stratos, Clawful, Manteena, and Skeletor.

Homemade Christmas Gifts

Not that long ago, I expressed my disdain for buying crap for the kids this Christmas.  My wife interpreted my commercial hatred to mean that she could still make something for the kids.  So, for the past week or so, she has been coming up with some pretty cool homemade Christmas gift ideas that have Daddy's seal of approval.  I guess for me, making something for the kids is more fun than going out and buying something that has probably been made by a child no older than my own.

My wife scoured the web looking for cool projects for the two of us (mainly her) to do.  Truthfully, it's been fun putting this stuff together for the kids and the fact that we're not spending a ton of money on crap they won't even play with fills my heart with Christmas cheer.  One of the coolest things about homemade Christmas gifts is laying the stuff out right in front of the kids and having them help you make it.  Cooking sheets, felt, magnets, and PVC pipe don't exactly scream "Christmas Present" to a child, so they had no idea.  Here is some of the cool stuff we (my wife) made.

 Animal-Shaped Crayons:  Our kids seem to love breaking crayons more than they like coloring with them.  Don't throw those pieces out, use them to make new crayons.  Learn how to make these Crayola Christmas gifts here.

Felt Mix and Match Playsets:  These are similar to the Colorforms play sets you may have played with as a child.  Or, at least the cheap, felt version of Colorforms.  Learn how to make these cheap Christmas gifts here.

Magnetic Play Board:  A really simple idea that I know our daughter is going to love.  We did a pirate them for the boy and a sparkly, butterfly and animal one for the girl.  Learn how to make these handmade Christmas gifts here.

Marshmallow Gun:  This is the one thing that I actually made.  It is awesome and you need one.  That's all you need to know.  Except maybe for how to make a marshmallow gun.

Crayola Payola

We have no more Christmas gifts to make.  We're done.  Finally.  We can put all the magnets, fabric, felt, and glue away for a while.  The last thing we did was pretty cool.  You know all of those broken down crayons in the bottom of your kid's box?  Turns out you can re-use them, which is good for us, because the kids can't seem to color a picture without breaking at least one crayon.

 You'll need:

Broken down crayons
Candy Mold
Tin Cans
A Pot

Before you get started, you'll want to save up some tin cans.  So, next time you crack open some green beans, be sure to set those cans aside.  We didn't think about this before we started, so the girl and I had a Spaghetti-O eating marathon.  Four empty cans later we were ready to start.

First you want to unwrap all the crayons and sort them out by color.  The girl loved this part.  She's all about ripping up things.

This is about all the kids can help you with.  From here on out it's adults only.  Things are about to heat up, so while you fire up the stove top, have the kids clean up that mess.

It's important to teach your kids to clean up after your messes. This will free up more time for yourself.

While they are doing that, you need to grab a pot and start boiling some water.  If you have any large pieces of crayon, break them up into smaller pieces.  Once the water is boiling, place your crayon pieces into a tin can and set the tin can into the water.  If you are making multiple colors, you're better off using the color spectrum order.  In other words, make yellow crayons first, then orange, then red.  Make green, then blue, then purple, brown, and black. You get the idea.

We made the mistake of using red first. These cans don't wash easily, so we had to toss it to make our next batch.

Crayons melt quick and the can heats up in no time at all.  Grab some mittens and somethings to stir that mix with.



When your crayon mix looks like some kind of soup that you'd find in a Dr. Seuss book, you're ready to pour your crayons.  Lay out your candy molds and start pouring.  Don't be an idiot; use protection.

When you're done with one color, you can try to clean that tin can out, or you can save yourself the headache and just use another one.  The next can we did yellow, orange, and green in without mixing the colors too badly.  Just rinse out the can and wipe it down the best you can and move on.  Once you have all of your candy molds filled you can stick them in the freezer for a few minutes to harden them up.

Pull your molds out of the freezer, pop them out and you have yourself some brand new crayons for the kids to break.

Find more Christmas Gifts To Make.