29 May 2014

Daddy Fixed It?

You know, daughters have a really strong leash their daddy's hearts. There's not much we won't do for the little angels. But that's not always a good thing.

My sweet little Princess is afraid of the dark. Or, as she says, "I'm not afraid, I just don't like it!" And as any daddy will tell you, my little girl is not going to have to suffer anything she's, um, that she "doesn't like." So Daddy fixed it.

A couple of years or so ago, after the dismal failure of so many nightlights and lamps left her coming into our bedroom at night, I decided to get more aggressive. I hardwired nightlights into every outlet in her bedroom. I could read a newspaper in her room with her light off.

It wasn't enough. It was time to get creative.

I find LED butterflies in a strand of 24 and hung them up around the walls over her bed. Beautiful!

It still wasn't enough.

Sweetheart took to leaving the hallway light on, which is a great pair of energy efficient LED can lights each equivalent to a 60W bulb. They're meant for security. Not nightlights.

At this point, I should say I DO like the dark at night, and Sweetheart looks to sleep with our door open in case the babies need us.

Oh, and those nova-like hallway lights are right outside my bedroom door.  Now I could read a newspaper in my own bedroom with shades and a ski mask on.

Something had to give, and since Princess' reaction to the dark is an ear splitting 500 decibel staccato scream that she won't stop long enough even to breath, that something was me.

Well, those butterflies burnt out, giving me the opportunity to replace them. Hopefully with something much better. Oh, yeah, much better.

I couldn't find butterflies, but I found flowers. And they didn't come in a strand of 24. Nope, these bad boys are 100 lights per strand. A respectable 32' of cheerful lights for my little girl.
Hmm. My little girl who didn't think the butterflies were enough.

If you're thinking, "Surely he didn't...", I'm sorry to say you're wrong. Very wrong. I figured one might not impress, but surely two would. Yes, my friends, today I hung 200 LEDs in my daughter's room and happily watched her fall asleep with a smile on her face, as I looked fearfully around her room with dawning understanding while my wife shook her head.

See, something else failed to occur to me. Those bright hallway lights, which are now off, were not the only things outside my bedroom door.

I now have the Aurora Texan-us directly across the hall, in all its purple and pink tinted glory.
Now I can read a newspaper wearing shades and a ski mask while hiding under the covers and being laughed at by my wife.

28 May 2014

Poop On The Patio

The Furball has issues. Serious issues. And it's all Sweetheart's fault. I think she gave him PTSD.

Recently, a thunderstorm rolled through and gave us a nice bit of rain. The next morning, after his normal chaotic rumble down the stairs, he came barreling through the house heading for the back door. I barely got it opened in time. He blasted through and I closed the door and returned to my coffee. A short while later, he knocked on the door and burst in through the crack as soon as I started opening it. I'm pretty sure he was trying to get past me before I saw the large pile he had just deposited on the patio immediately outside the door. He knows this ticks me off.

Of course, as ticked as I get at him, I let him get away with it because it gives me a chance to mess with Sweetheart.

Seven years ago, we adopted the Furball. He was so cute and so sweet. And he already had a nervous disposition.

Well, the winter we adopted him, the weather was much wetter than usual. So the backyard was always muddy. And I bet you can guess what color carpet my Sweetheart had chosen, . If you guessed light tan, you're right. Yep, a really nice creamy tan Berber. And after cleaning the carpet the first time, that woman declared war on that poor wet dog.

It was awful! She would catch him at the door with the biggest towel she cold find. At least, that was her intention. That dog was like greased lightening! He dodged, she pounced, laughed so hard it hurt! It was great!! That chase went on for days and days - she wasn't about to let those muddy paws into the house, and the dog hated that towel with a passion.

Eventually she won. Kind of. See, that idiot dog is way smarter - and more stubborn - than she thinks. If it so much as drizzles, he won't go out unless he's bursting at the seams, and then only to poop on my patio. Nope, he'll hold that bladder all day long if he has to. She'll holler and push and do everything short of beg to get him to go out. But Furball, he remembers all those years ago and he won't budge.

She says I'm wrong, but I don't think so. That dog is devoted to her completely, but when it rains, he has flashbacks and remembers that crazy lady with the towel.

27 May 2014

Hello Again

Well, it's been nigh on a year since I last wrote anything at all, and Sweetheart keeps poking and prodding, telling me I need to put pen to paper again. Or is that thumb to touchscreen? Hm, not quite as catchy. In any case, she thinks I should start writing again, and I figured I'd see if I couldn't humor her a bit.

Well, you may have surmised from the quietness of these here empty kilobyte corridors that it was an uneventful year. Oh my goodness, how wrong you would be. This last 11 months went by in a blur of activity.  I won't bore you with all the details - I do have a reputation for brevity, after all. Suffice to say the kids are growing like weeds and running rings around their daddy. But that's the way it should be, so all is right with the world.

Except for today. Today, I'm being assaulted by an all too familiar foe. Today, I'm sitting here looking at my wonderful, enormous plasma TV, as it hangs on the wall. Wondering if capital punishment is OK for electronics. And wondering if Sweetheart would shoot me if I shot the TV.

Or maybe I should just get online and cancel Netflix. But no, I can't do that, since Sweetheart enjoys the holiday movies she gets on it.

No, I'll have to best the torture with stoic strength. It is my own fault I suppose. I'm the fool who sat down with my coffee, thinking I could simply turn on some music and enjoy the last cup of the day before getting to work.

When I was getting the remote, Little Man said, "I pick, Daddy?"

So innocent. So sweet. I had no idea my dear son had developed such cunning. So of course I said yes.

He immediately pointed to the colorful tile on the Netflix menu with the creepy dragon and I cringed inside.


It hasn't been long enough. I can't handle it again. I can already feel brain cells dying as drool begins to form at the corner of my mouth. The world is glazing over as my eyes go glassy...

words swirl through my mind without cease...

"The wheels on the bus go round..."