29 September 2012

Thought for the Day #16

Ya know you're truly secure in your manhood when your wife changes the car's brake lights while you're inside baking fresh whole wheat pitas - and you're both proud of the jobs you did!

28 September 2012


When a fat man goes on Weight Watchers, and starts losing weight rapidly, he produces vapors and aromas which can be an olfactory assault unparalleled in human history. It is truly awful.

Not even the dog will come near me - and he licks his own butt!

But, in all seriousness, so far I am quite surprised. I had discounted WW, but Sweetheart I finally managed to get each other on it last week. I'm actually not having hunger pains, which really shocked me, and in seven days, I'm down six pounds.

And no member of my family will near me...

27 September 2012

Question of the Day #14

Have you ever wondered if maybe the reason our kids are so cute is so we won't eat them when they drive us nuts like an animal would?

Diversionary Tactics

I tell ya - the Navy SEALs could learn something from my kids about the element of surprise and diversionary tactics on the battlefield. These two work together to engage the enemy (me) and defeat every maneuver. They coordinate their actions and have perfect timing.

Today, my sweet, adorable little girl was practicing her writing and excitedly brought over her work to show me how well she was doing. I should have known. She was the diversion.

Once she had successfully distracted my attention, the boy - exhibiting a level of deviousness attainable only by a one year old - snuck into my blind spot.

The tactic worked perfectly.

While I was naively praising my daughter's writing attempts, the boy grabbed the kitchen junk drawer directly behind me and pulled with all his might. I heard a million tiny crashes as markers, keys, paperclips and myriad hair clips and rubber bands bounced around the kitchen.

Whipping around, I saw the boy exulting in his handiwork, holding the crayon which was the tactical objective for their operation.

Being bigger and stronger, I grabbed the little rascal and incarcerated him in the brig (his play yard) as a legitimate prisoner of war. The little Mata Hari was given parole to clean up the mess.

Victorious, I looked at the boy standing calmly behind the prison walls. I had won the battle.

But as I saw the smirk on his face and I got the distinctive feeling that the victory is not truly mine. I may have won this battle, but I think I might lose the war.

23 September 2012

The Chew Toy

The boy is teething again.

His favorite teething toy is the dog.

He lays across the dog and chews on his ear. The dog patiently lays there until I catch the boy and put him in his play yard.

Today, after the second time, the dog looked at me and I heard a goofy voice in my head saying, "Come on, Daddy. Don't I deserve a cookie for not biting him?"

It's fun having such an expressive dog.

Fun - and a little scary.

22 September 2012

The Grape

Furball is fat. He's fat enough that the vet has him on a diet. A diet which Furball is not very happy about. In fact, he roams around the house sniffing for crumbs and trying to make us feel guilty about "starving" him to death (remember he's capable of mind control).

So when the kids eat, that dog is right underneath Little Man, snarfing up anything that falls. Well, today he wasn't paying very close attention. The boy dropped a grape. The dog doesn't like grapes. The dog grabbed the grape out of midair, gulped it down, jumped like he'd been shocked, shook all over and gave the boy a look that clearly and indignately said, "You tricked me!"

The boy dropped another grape.

The dog looked at it and shook his head.

Then I heard him say, "Ah, what the heck! It's food."

And then he ate the grape.

21 September 2012

Bulletproof Boy

Yep, my Little Man is bulletproof. He's armored - with kevlar boogers!

Last night, I picked him up and saw stuff hanging out of his nose. No problem. I grabbed a tissue and wiped his nose. End of the booger, right?

Uh uh!

That booger didn't come off. It grew! It covered his upper lip as he smiled at me, as if to say, "Ha ha, feel the power of my boogers!"

As I tried again to wipe it off, the danged tissue ripped! The booger grew more. It began to harden into a protective shield.

But I am Daddy! I can beat a mere booger. Right? I went for the paper towel. More booger cleaning power.

Fear me, booger! I'm coming for you.

The booger laughed. I'm serious, I heard a diabolical laugh as the booger grew more. It might have been Sweetheart coming into the room laughing as she saw me battling a booger, but I don't think so. No, I'm pretty sure it was the booger.

As the boy smiled, I realized the booger must be filling his head. It was huge! There could be no room in the boy's head for anything except the booger.

I tried again. The booger got bigger. The booger got harder. The booger laughed again.

The paper towel was very nearly shredded by now, and the boy's nose was growing red, but the battle had to be won. The booger had to go. It was me or the booger. This house is not big enough for the two of us.

The boy's head began to shake as the booger began to stretch. I pulled - I wiped - I squeezed...

And in the end, I prevailed. I beat the evil, bulletproof booger.

I am Daddy - hear me roar, booger!

20 September 2012

A Morning Gone Awry

I made my daughter cry.

Not on purpose, mind you. It was purely accidental. But still, I made her cry. And scared her half to death at the same time, which made me feel even worse.

You see, I'm an insomniac. So I'm generally sitting at the table drinking coffee a looooooong time before the rest of the family wakes. Most mornings, as I sit drinking my good coffee and enjoying the peace and quiet of a home asleep, I journal or I blog. When I write, I'm very focused. It's one of my favorite things, so I give it my full attention.

At some point, generally during my second cup, the home is filled with a rumbling, puffing earthquake rolling down the stairs. This is the Furball following my sweet wife down the stairs. When his bladder is full first thing in the morning, he flies pell mell down those stairs, huffing and puffing as he makes his way to the back door, where he stands looking at me like I'm a total idiot for not having it opened for him already. He doesn't exactly sneak up on a person.

Then my wife slowly walks into the kitchen mumbling something that kind of sounds like a morning greeting as she gives me a peck on her way to the coffee pot.

Later, my little Princess will come down, holding Pink and Snuggle Elephant tightly in her little arms, rubbing her eyes and thumping her way down the stairs. That child makes a wee bit of noise on the stairs. I think she prides herself on it.

Normally. That's how my day starts.

Today was not a normal day.

Today, as I sat with my journal, enjoying the completely undisturbed peace and quiet, I reached for my coffee cup. I didn't have to look, since my hand knows the way.

Today, however, my hand was interrupted midway to the precious coffee cup. By my precious daughter's head.

It seems she had managed, for the first time in her life, to come down the stairs and walk into the kitchen without making a single noise. This is completely against the law of physics and nature. I'm pretty sure Einstein wrote a paper about it. Children are noisy. They are not capable of making it to their parents side without making a noise.

But she did.

And when she did, she threw herself at me to give me a hug.

At the same moment I reached for the coffee.

My hand hit her head, her head hit the wall, she hollered, I jumped halfway to the ceiling and screamed like you can only scream when you suddenly find someone right at your side in a dark room, which scared her. After my heart started beating again, I realized what had happened and reached down to hug her.

But it was too late. I had already made my Princess cry.

19 September 2012

Thought for the Day #15

I think the defining characteristic of marriage is the willingness of two people to let go of their own long held hang ups to ensure the happiness of the other.

16 September 2012

Mood Changers

So we're dog sitting for Mom and Dad for the weekend, taking care of Molly and Monty. They're cute little critters and love snuggling. It's so cute during the day. They'll sit on our laps while we work, and they're great taste testers when I'm baking.

Unfortunately, my in-laws are complete pushovers and let Molly and Monty sleep in their bed. In fact, Dad let's Monty sleep on his pillow. This is something we don't do. Furball sleeps in his nice comfy bed beside ours - which is a good thing, since he chases rabbits and snores. It's cute when he's in his bed - not so much in ours. We have an ironclad rule - no dogs and no kids in our bed.

Molly and Monty are fairly stubborn though. They just wait until we're asleep and hop up. Ah, well. Such is life.

But there's a good reason we have the rule against kids and dogs. We're young. We're amorous. We're both insomniacs. You do the math. When you have kids, the wee hours of the morning are sometimes the only time you have privacy.

So when I woke at 3:10 this morning, I grinned and reached out to stroke my Sweetheart's hair to wake her up. It took only a moment to realize the hair I was stroking was kinky. Sweetheart does not have kinky hair. Molly and Monty have kinky hair.

It took less than a moment to roll back over. Quickly. A moment more and I laughed, and went back to sleep. But not before I decided to let my sister-in-law keep Molly and Monty for now on.
Mood Changers

11 September 2012

Boys Will Be Boys

I got a new toy! I have a nearly insatiable addiction to the finest in manly accessories - the Victorinox Swiss Army Knife. I currently have eight, but one is AWOL, so we'll call it seven. My newest baby came in yesterday. The Swiss Champ! Ooooooh - I loooooove it! This thing is big, bulky, finely engineered and you can build a house with it. Or cut a steer. Or scale a barracuda. Or hang a picture. Or change Pal's batteries. Or slice your thumb open...

But the important thing is that it is a man's knife. And my son is a man. Regardless of some of the nicknames Mommy comes up with, and forgetting his occasional mimicry of his sister, my boy is a man. He saw my new knife while I was opening up a package at the table and his eyes took on that gleam - that testosterone fueled shine that says "Whoa! Hey Dad, can I have a whack at that thing? Can I have a knife like that? I bet we could rebuild the back fence, Dad. Just give me that knife and let's go. Oh, but change my diaper first, please."

Sweetheart denied it, of course. She doesn't understand. That whole different solar system things again. She said he was just reaching for a pen to draw with. Yeah, right! I held up a pen in my left hand and the knife in my right. The boy looked at the pen, looked at the knife, grew some hair on his chest, and reached for that knife with the biggest grin. He wasn't too happy when I pulled it away. Neither was my wife. But that's okay. I told the boy his knife is already tucked away, waiting for the day when I can trust him to not try to re-neuter the dog.

Then we'll go rebuild that fence together. Maybe even find a barracuda to scale.

02 September 2012

Tip for the Day

If you started the day by dropping a piece of stoneware so that it exploded near your hand, don't try to clean a counter with a Clorox Wipe unless you put on gloves first.


Since Sweetheart's out visitin', I get to listen to my kind of music. I think I might have mentioned a time or two that I'm a redneck - which means my favorite styles of music genres all include the word country in their names. Of course, in reality, I'm actually pretty open-minded. I like a whole range of stuff. Country & Western, Classic Country Gold ('60s and '70s), Country (which for me is anything produced before about 1994, with of course, the addition of absolutely anything put out by Reba, Loretta, Dolly, Kenny of either George), and, of course, Country Gospel. I also really enjoy Bluegrass. And in the spirit of fairness and openness, I will admit to having Pandora set up with a Falcon station, 'cuz, to be politically correct, I am, in actuality, a Texan-German-American. I'm also a child of the '80s and I freakin' love the crazy, upbeat music of the time - especially the German singers and the pre-techno synthesized wild stuff that Princess likes to dance to.

Sweetheart rolls her eyes at me a lot over my tastes in music.

The great thing about Pandora is that it pulls in tracks based on the style of music you like. So occasionally, I hear something from a newer artist. Now, most of this new allegedly country music is total bull put out by Hollywood producers to try to make money. Some of it though, is not too bad. Brad Paisley fits in that later group. Course, if you're buddies with Little Jimmie Dickens, you have to be okay.
So I heard this song by Brad Paisley, "Wait in' on a Woman." Oh, Sweetheart's gonna best my chaps over this one, but oh my goodness...

That's gotta be in my top ten favorite songs now. This old gentleman is telling a young feller about how he's been waiting' on a woman since the '50s. She was late for their first date, and everything else after that. But the wait is always worth it. And then he said something to the effect that men are supposed to die first, and he believes it because when it's her time to go, she won't be ready yet. So he knows when it's his time to go and he gets to Heaven, he'll just find a bench and wait on his woman.
The song really tickled me when I thought about it. When I was a kid, I was taught that if you're five minutes early, well then, you're already  ten minutes late. And my Sweetheart wasn't. Our wedding got started late, too. And we haven't been anywhere on time since we met. And it's been worth every single minute.

And now, I look at my children and see that the same holds true. My Little Man grabs his shoes as soon as he hears the word "go." That boy is like me - ready twenty minutes before anyone else in the house. My Princess - well, she couldn't be on time if you set all the clocks in the house back by two hours. Just like her Mom! Apparently it's gender based. But I've learned over the years. I don't make reservations, and I don't ever try to set a schedule for anything.

So when Princess meets that special man someday, I'll sit down with him and tell him the same thing my father-in-law told me when he saw me starting to get hot under the collar about always being late. Just sit down and relax. They'll be ready eventually, and getting annoyed won't speed them up a single bit. Hmm - that's probably why Dad's TV is always on - so he can sit down and watch TV while the women folk get ready.

Yep, I'll tell Princess' young man to sit down and relax, 'cuz it'll be awhile, but it'll be worth the wait.

01 September 2012

Did You Know...

That it's actually possible to sleep until the rising sun shines flickering sunbeams through the curtains and into your slumbering eyelids? I had no idea! With Sweetheart and the blessed short ones gone, I slept for eight hours. In one night! Amazing!

But, I must say, waking up to a rousing "Wakey wakey, Daddy!" makes me wake up with a bigger smile on my face.