Pre-Christmas Resolutions

Well we’re about a week away from the year coming to a close, and since I will be traveling some the holiday, I’m not going to have time to update the blog. Because of this, I thought I would discuss my New Year’s resolution.

It comes as no surprise to many of you that I have packed on a few pounds this past year. About 472 to be exact, and that always has an effect on you. Despite the health implications, which I tend to woefully ignore, there is the physiological ramifications that really do a job on you. I guess this is why disorders such as anorexia hold such a powerful grip on people, because despite whatever reality is, if you don’t FEEL skinny, then you don’t feel good at all.

So this is where my resolution comes in. I can sit here and tell you how I’m going to lose 400 pounds, and exercise more, and eat healthier, but I’m looking for a paradigm shift, something that’s really going to change my life.

That’s why this year I’m resolving to start hanging around only with FAT people. I’m thinking if I start hanging around with people that are much heavier than I am, I’ll actually be the skinniest in the crowd, and thus my self esteem will skyrocket. This means of course that I’m going to have to stop seeing a lot of you. And if you happen to notice me coming around more and more … well, let’s just say “Thank You.”

So there you have it. A resolution that can really stick. I hope you all have a Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, and go back for thirds at the dinner table.

First Words

Looking back at the milestones in life, there are times you can’t help but get choked up on emotion. The precious accomplishments that make life joyful and the tearful agony that festers in the back of your mind reminding you quietly that this will never happen for the first time again.

I mentioned several weeks ago that the Little Man has been spouting out various things over the past few months such as “Dada”. I also mentioned that this word could mean everything from “I’m Hungry” to “I’m Sleepy” to “Look Father, there seems to be a puppy in the vicinity, might I reach over and pull his ears?” So, in short, although we’ve had several “words” come out of the Count’s mouth, we haven’t had anything verbalized that is truly associated with recognition about what he is saying.

All of this changed last night.

The wife and I have had a running debate on whether the first word will be “Momma” or “Dada”, I of course picking the former to keep me out of trouble. So as one of us enters the room, we listen intently to the Wee Man to see if we hear a recognizable word. I’m pretty sure he knows my name … it’s “phrapple!” … yeah, the wife didn’t buy that one either.

We were all sitting in the bathroom last night. Well, let me clarify, the wife and kid were taking a bath, and I was standing in the bathroom talking to them, and he said it. Yes, it was slightly reserved, but unmistakable. We were hoping he would repeat it, and he did. He looked, he saw, he spoke. Over and Over. Perfectly clear. There could be no doubt.

He said, “Tisk, tisk tisk.”

Now you’re asking yourself, “What the heck does that mean? It’s not even a word.” But alas, it is.

He has heard his dad say it over and over. Almost PERFECT in its repetition. He recognized exactly what he was doing, and executed it flawlessly. It’s the sound you make when you press your tongue to the top of your mouth and suck in air.

He was calling the dog.

And the dog came. And it would walk away, so he would call it back, and it would come. This happened over the course of several minutes. Dog walks away, kid calls it back.

So it’s official. The kid’s first words are in the history books, not Momma, not Dada, but rather, “Here Doggy Doggy Doggy.” At least he’s got his priorities straight.

All I want fo Christmas ...

Well it’s that time of year again. No, not bath time for me, but rather the holiday season. It’s the season where women everywhere exchange thoughtful beautifully wrapped gifts and where men either give those women something truly horrific, or if they’ve got some cash, the cheapest piece of jewelry that they can afford in order to get out of the store with the least possible effort.

My wife is a saint. She spends the entire year scouting stores, looking for Christmas presents that she thinks might fit someone perfectly. While I’m foolishly scrounging around on the department store floor looking for the latest publication from Mad Magazine in April, she’s picking up a cookbook for a dinner recipe, changing the kid, and finding the precious plate holder that Aunt Martha has been wanting for 2 years.

I have quite a bit of difficulty remembering what I ate for breakfast (Cheerios thank you, no that was yesterday, wait …) the Wife can remember that her mother-in-law mentioned she wanted a red scarf last February on a commercial break during America’s Funniest Home Video’s. So far she has bought gifts for her family, gifts for my family, gifts for her co-workers and my co-workers (half of which she’s never met), gifts for the neighbors, gifts for friends, and at least 4 gifts for people we don’t know yet.

I have one gift to buy, hers. And you know what, if it was up to me, I would probably be trying to talk her into a riding lawn mower. “Aww, Cm’on Baby, you know how you always said you would LOVE to cut the grass if you had a riding lawn mower? This’ll be FUN!” I mean, I would probably pour it on thick, “And LOOK, it’s on SALE!” Thankfully I have the perfect wife who not only buys for every living being on the planet, but also drops hints to me as well. And by “hint” I mean this is how the conversation would go.

“Hey Darling Husband” shut up, she does SO call me that, “I want a cow bell for Christmas”

AND before you say I’m ridiculous, yes, this is a request. Go look at Pottery Barn, they’ve got ‘em … so SHUT UP. But let me continue.

“ I want a cow bell for Christmas.”
Showing me a catalog “Here’s a picture of the cow bell I want”
Handing me a piece of paper “Here’s a coupon for 25% off all cow bell’s”
Pointing across the parking lot “There’s where they sell the cow bell, they have 4 in stock, go ahead and buy it and I’ll wait here until you get back.”

That’s how I get hints for Christmas presents. Isn’t that the BEST hint EVER?!

And if you ladies say, “But she doesn’t get any surprises!” I say:

1. She doesn’t like surprises, I dare say she HATES them.
2. Is it really a good idea for you ladies to be “surprised” with a riding lawn mower under the Christmas tree?

Can I Borrow Some Sleep

I lied last time. I said I had a few minutes and started typing - then the sky started falling, don't you hate that.

So the Count's cutting his first tooth. Almost a year old and finally getting a tooth ... he must have his Dad's affinity for not procrastinating. But he's making up for it the past couple of days. Three days ago if you put anything in his food that had more texture to it than a slurpee, the kid would gag. But apparently the last two days he's been chomping down on anything he can get his hands on ... and I was sure I left a meatball sub in the fridge.

I am told this because the wife informs me that she went to our favorite restaurant (a little Amish restaurant that's just open for lunch Mon - Fri) and he chowed down on potatoes and biscuits. Sounds perfect doesn't it, stay awake all night with a fussy kid, get up early and go to work. Have a two day old egg salad sandwich from the cafeteria (or as I refer to it Death by Lunch) while the wife calls you as she's enjoying homemade coconut pie (and no, I don't care who your grandmother was, she doesn't hold a candle to these Amish ladies) and let the wife tell you all the wonderful milestones you are missing.

I think I'm going to start pulling random bulbs out of her 5 Christmas Trees just for that ... and yes I said 5.

It goes by quick

Here's a quick recap of the last few weeks, since I have a moment.



It's COLD. OK, so it's not Michigan cold, but we're technically in the "South" here, so for me, it's COLD. The temp is hovering in the teens to single digits and the day before yesterday the clouds were freezing and falling to the ground. Seriously. It wasn't snowing because there wasn't enough clouds in the sky to produce shade, the dang things were just giving up and falling to the ground hoping to find some heat.



Fact - Bulldogs can cause a ruckus when they're left inside all day long and want to get out and play.

Fact - The aforementioned, It's COLD out there.

Fact - Bulldogs shut up pretty quickly when you throw them outside in the cold for about ten minutes then let them back inside.



The kid's getting his first tooth .... and no one is getting any sleep!

Fun Stuff

The count has a range of emotions as all kids do, but they are typically subject to wide interpretation. For example, a scream can mean "I'm HAPPY!" or it can mean "I'm TICKED!". Spontaneously shouting "Dada!" can mean "Dad's Here" or it can mean "Look, There's a Puppy!"

I have long since given up trying to judge what the kid says.

One thing however that has remained consistent is the clap. The clap means I'm EXCITED about whatever it is I see - period.

I walked in the living room last night to see my kid start clapping. I was getting rather emotional until I saw what he was clapping at. It was obviously not me, but rather the kid was staring at the television and a commercial for the Victoria's Secret Fashion Show.

Lights, Glitter, and Boobies. What isn't there to get excited about? I was so proud of him.

So tonight we're both going to sit on the floor and watch the Vicky's Secret show and clap at the TV!

Where’d he go?

So some friends of the family have been very gracious and given us a lot of hand me downs, clothes, toys, and something even more special. They gave us a little walker (henceforth referred to as the race car) that the wee man can sit in and propel himself around (everyone knows what this is).

Well the first few weeks were fun. This was basically a stationary toy that The Count could wobble back and forth in. Nothing major, just an alternative to the bouncy chair and the sit and play. I totally underestimated his learning curve.

I thought if I pinned the little guy in, I could more or less determine where he could go, but ooooohhhhh no. He hits those little barriers full speed and turns every obstacle into a speed bump. He spends half of his time chasing the blind dog around and pinning him in the corner so that he can pull his ears (it’s rather pitiful). He spends the rest of the time showing us what he can pull off the tables and eat (he’s preferential to folded clothes and magazines).

I think I’m going to strap a harness onto the puppies and see how long he can hang on.

Da Man

It wasn’t too terribly long ago that I was running around acting like a soccer hooligan and generally being an irresponsible human being. As a matter of fact, it was probably a week ago. But much before that it turns out I became an Uncle.

I didn’t realize that with that title came rights and responsibilities.

I had the RIGHT to purchase Christmas presents for the kid. And as he informed me, I had the RESPONSIBILITY to make those purchases TOYS.

I know there were many other things I was supposed to be doing, like setting a good example, but I was too busy trying to teach him how to blow up things with firecrackers and teach my dog inappropriate tricks to bother myself with being a role model.

Despite the fact that he had me as an uncle, the kid worked through that, and as of tomorrow, the ankle biter will officially become an EAGLE SCOUT.

To say that I am proud and impressed would not do it justice. I have a hard time finishing a 30 minute sitcom and the big guy spent some 10 years to make it to the top (and did in record time, mind you).

So in a short shout out, here’s to Josh, who is now quite capable of beating up his uncle. Your mom made me buy the clothes instead of toys.

Gee Pee Ayus

The fam recently took a road trip. Although I was considered a navigod when I was younger, I’ve found it convenient over the last several years to use the GPS that I bought my wife. I am now convinced that this tool of convenience has made me a blubbering idiot. OK, granted I was probably already a blubbering idiot a long time before I bought it, but I used to be able to scan a map quickly and go pretty much anywhere I wanted in a strange city, now I can barely find my garage after I pull into my driveway.

I know I need to “update the maps” on my GPS because it often tells me I’m driving through the forest of impending doom. But that’s how they get you. I mean, right out of the box it seems like my neighborhood isn’t even on the map and I need to “Update my maps”. Boy I sound like my Grandpa now don’t I.

But anyway, the wife was playing with the settings and discovered that you can change the languages. They have all sorts of different ones, German, French, Spanish, but what was cool was they have different ENGLISH languages. They have American English, United Kingdom English, and she even came across REDNECK! Wow, this we had to try. The wife hit “Redneck” and the GPS immediately fell off the windshield and told us to “pick it up and use some Duct Tape this time to make sher it steecks to tha winder.”

It was 9:00 AM in the morning and although our destination was only about an hour away, our arrival time on the GPS read “Bout Noon”. Instead of taking us directly to the city we intended to go, the GPS (now referring to itself as “Jim Bob”) took us on a navigational route past 3 bars. Upon arrival at each bar it would state “Nope, that’n’s closed too. Ya’ll sure up early on a Sa-urdee Mornin’. Go on up a couple miles and hang a layuft.” It finally settled for a quick run through the Bass Pro Shop parking lot before taking us to our destination city.

Now that we were safely in the city, we decided to get something to eat. The wife hit the restaurant button (now labeled “Eatin” on the screen). The selections that came up were Shoes and No Shoes. With a shrug, she selected shoes. It gave her a selection of 3 Bar-B-Q restaurants and a Buffet. Under “No Shoes” she got a waffle house and the same Buffet. We opted for a small Italian restaurant we saw by the side of the road. As soon as we pulled in Jim Bob said “Whutchalldoinhere?”

After lunch we had a few hours to kill, so the wife pulled up the “local attractions”. It gave us directions to the State Fair and Hooters Restaurant. We opted out. We decided instead to do some shopping, but as soon as H selected “shopping” Jim Bob yelled “I Aready took ya to th’ Bass Pro!”

We finally gave up and decided just to get to the airport and wait for our guests to arrive. H selected “transportation” and Jim Bob said, “Aright, ya’ll head down th’ road a mile er two and hang a raight at the quickie mart.” Of course as soon as we passed the Quickie Mart Jim Bob said “Ain’t ya’ll thirsty?”

For the next fifteen minutes it was, “Turn on the Radio”, “D’jall see that Jeep?”, “Ain’t no cops around, whay don’chu speed up?”, “Ya’ll aint got no Cuntry Stayshuns round here?”

The battery was running low, so the wife pulled out the cord to plug it in and Jim Bob said, “Just gimme some beef jerky.”

As we pulled into the parking lot as instructed by Jim Bob we finally realized that instead of taking us to the airport, he took us to a Monster Truck Rally.

The wife threw him out the window.

Thief

I was out getting the mail the other day, and I ran into one of my neighbors. She relayed an interesting story to me.

It seems she came home one afternoon and Humphrey (our HUGE little bulldog) was excited. He must have been chilling out in the back yard, and as she walked by, he must have just gotten up from his nap. She said something must have gotten his attention, because the bulldozer that he is, ran head first into our huge gate and knocked it open (this is the same dog that has taken several flying leaps at the patio door over the back of another dog in order to get inside quicker than they did).

The neighbor was kind of proud that he was so excited to see her that he risked personal injury just to come say hello. As she knelt to welcome and congratulate her little canine friend her joy waned. The Bully went full speed right past her, through the street, and into her front yard. Within seconds, the little rascal was dragging her entire Halloween skeleton back across the street and into our back yard.

I guess every dog needs a bone … our dog just needs all of them.

A brief history in time

So I mentioned a few blogs ago we went on a trip. Well here's a quick update with pics.

Went to see some friends.

Played at the beach.

It was a long drive home.

Needed some caffeine to keep us going.

As Always, had a ton of laundry to do when we got back.

Went to see some Lion's Tiger's and Bear's ... oh my.

Came home last night and did the dishes ... bottle's empty.

Conversations

As a guy, my mind tends to do awful things, like jump from subject to subject. The wife (as all wife’s do) usually wants to know what I’m thinking but is rarely satisfied with the true answer. Although my mind jumps around more than a 4 year old on chocolate waiting for Santa, I usually have a little logic to where my thoughts come from.

Here’s a typical thought pattern from conversation to conversation.

Wife: “It’s a beautiful day outside.”
Mind:
- It sure is a beautiful day
- It’s days like this that I wish I had a convertible car
- I still need to change the tires on this car
- Wouldn’t it be cool if I put BIG ‘ol tires on it
- Monster trucks have some BIG ‘OL TIRES
- I’ve never been to a monster Truck Rally
- They say you need ear protection when you go to a Monster Truck Rally
- Wouldn’t it be bad to have to go to the doctor for ear damage at a Truck Rally
- Don’t I have a doctor’s appointment Tuesday
Me: “Hey Babe, I forgot to tell you I have a Doctor’s Appointment Tuesday”

And the wife wants to know what made me say that. Well, there you have it. I’m just saying that this is how a guys brain jumps from one subject to another – it’s crazy, but it has a little bit of reason.

Apparently my wife’s brain works a little different. She’s able to press “PAUSE” on any conversation and then press play at any time and I’m supposed to remember which of these innumerable conversations we’re talking about now.

Here’s an example of the conversations we had Saturday during about an hour.

Me “Rita’s last day at work was Friday”
Wife “Do you know where she’s going to work”
Me “I haven’t heard”
Wife “I’m going to go inside with the little man and see if I can find a coat”
Me “OK, I’m going to stay out here and see if I can find the M&M you dropped between the seats, then I’ll be in”
I spent 10 minutes pulling a french fry, a sugar baby, and 2 M&M’s from underneath the seats.
I go inside, look for the wife. We discuss the sale that Old Navy has going on, how we each got a coupon for “Free Stickers”.
We look at a couple of coats we have found. Talk about the price. Look for some hats and decide what they have is way too big, but we really need some hats. Maybe we should go look at Kohl’s. But this is the last jacket in his size. We’ll put this on hold and come back if we can’t find anything.
So I put the jacket on hold.
Do you think the wee man needs another blanket? He sure is mad because we made him try on so many hats. He did not like that at all. Did you find anything? Me neither, I didn’t really want to look. It’s getting about lunch time, do you think that’s why the wee man is fussy?

We walk out after about and hour, and this is the first thing my wife says to me on the way to Kohl’s.

“So she didn’t say where she’s going?”

I have no CLUE what she is talking about.

She is of course referring to Rita and if she has gotten a new job … but I’m stuck back on Monster trucks somewhere.

Some days I wonder just how long she’ll put up with me until she cracks … or cracks me over the head.

Lions and Tigers and Bears, Oh My

The economy, as all of us are aware, is pretty much hitting rock bottom. It’s getting harder and harder for many places to pay their bills, especially those places that have a hefty amount of fixed costs and are considered a luxury by the working class individuals that frequent them.

So it came as no surprise that a local Zoo started handing out free entrance passes within our community. By forgoing the usual $8.00 entrance fee that they normally charge, they get a hefty amount of foot traffic through the gates and start making money on snacks, lunches, and souvenirs. I wouldn’t exactly call it a trap, but it’s a clever way to trick some individuals into coming and pay the bills, so I applaud them.

This is exactly the way that they roped my wife into driving the 1 ½ hours to the Tulsa Zoo. We loaded up the kid (and everything else we owned) to make the trek and enjoy the day. I spent the better part of it trying to point my 9 month old son’s eyes in the general vicinity of animals and name them for him. Which is why I’m standing in front of a 5000 pound pachyderm pointing and repeating “Elephant, see the Elephant …” all the while my son is trying to grab the string on his little pants so that he can put it in his mouth.

As it turned out, the people handing out those free passes must have hit every trailer park from here to Tulsa. I didn’t realize it was national meth lab day, and every homemade chemistry department must have shut down for them all to make the pilgrimage. We must have seen everything from a 16 year old mother of 4 (no twins mind you) to a twenty four year old grandmother.

The Count felt right at home since few of them had any teeth there either.

Multiplication Tables

I recently got to take a trip with the family. On that trip we passed through a lot of cities and one place in particular caught my eye.

I'm not going to call out the city, because I'm convinced it could have happened just about anywhere, but I stopped at a Popeyes Chicken restaurant.

Apparently there's a new corporate promotion going on at Popeye's where you can "Eat for less than 4 dollars per person". This must be a big deal as there seems to be a large in store marketing campaign associated with it. I guess the corporate heads are attempting to adjust their marketing efforts during the recession as more families opt to stay home and cook rather than eat out. It seems like a pretty good idea, I mean, when it all boils down, eating a meal for less than 4 dollars is pretty cheap when you think about it, and the marketing guru's went all out to get your attention and let you know what an awesome deal they came up with for you. A good 25% or more of their in store promotions referred to it.

There was only one small problem with their ingenious plans. I guess to account for variances in costs, they allowed the franchise owners to price their own promotions.

So this is what I read in their store:
Eat for 4 dollars or less per person. 12 piece meal FEEDS 6 - $25.99

Thank goodness for public education.

Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride

We do have an interesting household to say the least. 4 puppies, too many fishes, and over the years flying squirrels, birdie hatchlings and the like.

I’m sure it stems from H’s father’s affection and care fro animals growing up. She had some interesting “pets” growing up, although they were probably more research projects for her family than pets, but what can you say to someone who had a pet raccoon as a kid.

So it should come as no surprise that we had adopted a toad in our garage. Mr. Toad would come out, usually at night, and find his way to the back door just outside our garage, or be sitting just inside the garage door looking for flies or whatever may have come his way. I couldn’t tell you how the thing got inside and outside, I didn’t know and probably didn’t want to know to tell you the truth.

I don’t know how many days I was late to work chasing Mr. Toad out from underneath my car in the morning with a broomstick, or how often I would have to park outside the garage long enough to move Mr. Toad to the side and allow me to park.

The puppies thought Mr. Toad was interesting too. The older two might smell him from time to time, the hyper two would probably go so far as to lick him every now and then.

Humphrey’s usual path once released from the back yard fence is to bolt to the corner of the flower bed as fast as he can to pick up a piece of bark or mulch and munch on it for a few seconds before Dad pries it out of his mouth. One of these evenings Mr. Toad happened to be chilling out on that particular corner when Humphrey came running by. Well, Mr. Toad never sat there again, and Humphrey never accidentally picked Mr. Toad after that either.

To say the least, we’ve had a few adventures with Mr. Toad, but alas they are no more.

As H went out last night to pick up some groceries, she returned about 10 seconds after departing with a sullen face. It seems that Mr. Toad must have been making a mad dash through the garage when H got home that afternoon and he didn’t quite make the finish line. When I went to get him, he was significantly thinner than I remembered him.

So between H running down Mr. Toad and me catching his cousin Mr. Frog with the lawnmower on the other side of the house, we are now reptile-less in our household. Perhaps Mr. Lizard will pay us a visit when the Count is old enough to chase after them.

Hooray for Fall!

So we are fresh off the Labor Day weekend. The last hoorah of summer, a time to let loose and say goodbye to the wild and crazy summer nights by throwing yourself head first into a vat of barbeque sauce and cheezits.

So I guess you’re dying to know what kind of adventures the family had over the weekend? Well, here it is. FOB … as my wife would say, we were Flat On our Back.

Now I know where you’re going, “Oh, how resourceful, he took the weekend off to relax at home with the family, and rest up for some quality time.” Absolutely not.

Apparently the count went out on the town last week and brought home a little bug, and then, with all that infant cooing and snuggling as a convenient ruse, attempted to infect all of us with the dreaded snotty nose virus of DEATH.

The poor thing miscalculated the severity of it though, and realizing that, this being the first cold he had, began to have a few regrets once Momma got at him with the evil booger and brain sucker bulb.

So we spent the entire Labor Day weekend, handing off crying detail to each other. I did most of the crying. You can imagine, we were in a PLEASANT mood, dealing with a screaming infant, and trying to remain upright at the same time. I’m sure that the wife is ready to trade us both in by now.

Finally last night it looks like the weekend is coming to an end, and maybe the wee-man is trying to get over the hump the cold, just as we get ready for bed, he empties his stomach over mom and the bed. I swear the kid hadn’t digested anything the entire weekend because I was mopping it up for hours.

I think we all got a combined total of 3 hours sleep the entire weekend.
I’m just a peachy little sucker at work today too

Mornings

The morning just doesn't start until I wake up, have my coffee, and check the markets on my laptop. Sometimes I just don't understand what those crazy Asian markets do while I sleep, ya know what I mean?

Nice Day

The Wee Man took us on an outing today.

He wanted to go see the plants at the botanical gardens.

I won't spoil the pics with a lot of words.

Un-Monitored

I’m sure one or two of you may remember my story of the apnea monitor a while back. For those of you who don’t know what I’m referring to … read a little already … but anyway, the purpose of an apnea monitor is twofold.

First, should a baby stop breathing at night, it let’s off a loud alarm to hopefully wake the child up and startle them enough to start breathing again.

Second, once the monitor goes off at 2:00 AM, it’s supposed to be loud enough to alert emergency personnel that the father of such infant has had a heart attack and will need to be transported to the nearest medical facility.

The Monitor of course is designed only to alarm about the hour of 2:00 AM, just when you are in your deepest sleep (conversely I believe it also has a self timer to alarm a second time again at 4:00 AM) which is just enough time for your heart to stop pounding which allows you to fall into an even deeper sleep.

Now I’m a pretty heavy sleeper when I want to be, which is to say when I’m unconscious. It takes about 2 minutes and 10 hits of the snooze button to nudge my brain to wake up enough in order for me to rouse my body out of bed. I’ve told the wife that if an intruder breaks in, to wake me up when she wants me to drag the body outside and bury it.

Because of this fact, coupled by the timing of the alarm, you can imagine the keystone cops antics that have ensued at 2:00 AM as my body is off to the races while my mind is still dozing in LaLa land.

Well today marks the day that we are no longer using the monitor, which means that there are a few things that we are going to be doing without.

I can thank the monitor (or as I like to refer to it, the screaming box from H#ll) for the following:

8 bruises on the rib cages of puppies (what I call breathing speed bumps).
7 broken baby toys
5 dents in the wall, the result of daddy prying rawhide bones from beneath his feet and flinging them across the room
1 soiled carpet from a startled doggy
1 soiled mattress from a startled daddy
12 broken toes – all on the same foot (yes I’m in the Guinness book of world records)
18 trophies for the wife for the “Fastest to the room” award
1 Apology to the wife for tackling her in order to prevent buying the 19th trophy
3 broken alarm clocks (As it turns out, hitting the alarm clock snooze button with a hammer won’t affect the noise coming from the monitor at all)
32 bruised shins (I swear the wife re-arranges the furniture when I fall asleep just to see how many pieces I can run into on the way to the room)
And finally, more than one “performance evaluation” on the proper way to attach the monitor so that it doesn’t falsely go off …. Again.

I can’t exactly say that I’m sad to see the thing go, it was quite an adventure.

Farewell monitor, I hope you have a beeping good time somewhere else.

Prunes ... ' Nuff Said

So I promised not to even say the word ... well you know what it is ... for a long long time. So I'll start this by saying that the Count recently had his first solid food.

Here's a picture of the joy.

As you can see, he's REALLY enjoying it.

I tried to convince him to take more ...

Thus the result

After wrestling back the spoon, we tried again.

He was very excited.

Alas, after the kid gagged, the wifey said that was enough.

The next day I think he snuck the stuff to the puppies, because I was greeted by this when I got home.

We've tried carrots and for reasons I will NOT go into, we have now tried prunes. Results are getting better.

It's all exciting here, but we're not sure what to expect next.

........... and the prunes worked.

Piles of Fun

I had an interesting scenario happen to me last night … well at 4 AM this morning. The incident was in and of itself, rather unpleasing. It is of such a nature that I promised I would lay off the graphic details for a while, but it reminded me of something that happened a couple of years ago that should be slightly less disgusting and a little more humorous.

When Eve was a puppy, we had a difficult time with her eating poo. I don’t mean the fuzzy little bear named Winnie either.

We had to watch her constantly, pick up everything that came out, make sure we watch Samdog, etc because if it was out, she was going to find it and eat it.

I was in the back yard one early spring afternoon and I was raking leaves. H decided it would be nice for Eve to get some fresh air, so she locked her in the back yard fence with me and just let her run around while I worked. I continued raking and paid little attention to her as I enjoyed the spring day. It was probably about 10 minutes later that I noticed my normally hyper dog, who would be running around trying to chew something, was parked in one place just going frantic. She was in a pile of leaves with her head buried about 6 inches below the surface and not thinking of coming up for air. My mind immediately went to poo.

I rushed to the leave pile and picked her up, not seeing any evidence of the offending product, I began to wonder if my concern was unfounded and I was just being paranoid. I held her face up to mine wondering if I could perhaps catch a whiff of any unpleasant scent that may have lingered around her snout.

It was about that time that she let out the biggest sneeze I have ever seen a dog make. My suspicions were immediately confirmed as my entire face was covered with the nastiest smell I had EVER encountered.

Now I usually have a pretty iron stomach when it comes to unpleasing aromas, but this just about did me in. My nose was about 2 inches from her, mouth slightly open, eyes looking intently for remnants; to say I was completely caught off guard doesn’t begin to express my unpreparedness for what I had just experienced. I was just about to toss me lunch in the back yard when I recovered my composure.

So boys and girls, learn from my mistake and never ever check your doggie for that offense in this particular fashion.

Renovations

I forgot to mention that I painted our bedroom a couple of months ago. I had a little help. Here's a picture to prove it ... they're taking their break.

Ameri-CAN’T Airlines

So I mentioned that I had taken a trip over the weekend for work, and how fun it was. Now I’ll do my best to explain it with a little more humor than I was feeling during my trip.

I was lucky enough to get H booked on my flight to Chicago out of Tulsa. We woke up early Saturday morning and drove to Tulsa for our 11 AM flight. The plan was to arrive in Chicago, pick up the car, and head to work with the two other ladies from the office that I was traveling with. I was slightly worried that getting through security with the count was going to be a headache, but actually, the airport was empty, the ticket counter agents were extremely helpful, security was very nice, and everything went extraordinarily smooth. This was going to be a pretty good trip.

I had just counted 8 eggs that were going to hatch.

They called our plane to board about 10:30 or so and we headed down the ramp. The little guy was getting a little fussy, but nothing out of the ordinary. We thought we would just feed him as we took off and it would kill two birds with one stone, take care of the air pressure pains in his ears and get him fed all at once.

About 11 AM when we hadn’t moved and the wee man was getting a little more fussy, the captain came over the speaker and said that he was waiting on some paperwork.

11:30 rolls around and the jet fumes are becoming REALLY pleasant, we finally give up and feed the kid hoping to placate him for a little while. The captain announces there’s a problem with the plane, they aren’t going to fix it, they’re just going to fly to Chicago and fix it there, now they just need the paper work. Thank Goodness, I don’t really care if the plane works, just duct tape the sucker and let’s get this puppy 2 miles in the air!

12:00, “Well folks, we actually tried to fix the plane because this is a major repair hub here in Tulsa and Bubba is a genius when it comes to things no one else can gifure out, but guess what, it didn’t work. So we’re just going to go ahead and fly to Chicago and see if we can bum a wing from United. Now we just need to finish a little paperwork.” Well if he didn’t say that, it was pretty close. I swear half the cost of a plane ticket must go to funding their supply of paper.

12:15 We’re away from the gate and on our way. HOORAY!

12:16 We’re at a dead stop 12 feet from the gate.

12:30 We’re back at the gate. “Believe it or not folks, something else broke. You know, you buy a plane off the side of the road and although the guy SWEARS it runs fine, I guess you just can’t trust anyone nowadays. I think we can fix this sucker this time. Sit tight and we’ll go get some more duct tape.”

1:00 “Allright, Everybody off. We ran out of duct tape and Bubba just doesn’t think the scotch tape’s gonna hold. Ya’ll go sit in the terminal and if you want a rag soaked with Jet fuel to take a few whiffs of, we’ll be handing those out at the door.”

They went and bought a new plane at Big Hearted Eddie’s used plane lot next door, and after boarding that plane and waiting another hour to take off, we finally got to Chicago about 7:00 PM.

I worked a couple of days with the normal drama while H visited family and dealt with drama of her own sort.

My flight back was scheduled at 4:00 and H’s was scheduled at 8:00. I knew my flight was going to be overbooked because our team booked the last 3 seats weeks ago. I tried to call the night before and volunteer to be switched to the 8:00 flight if they needed me to. They said sure, just give us $150 and we’ll do it, so I went ahead and stayed with my 4:00 flight. As soon as I got to the gate, the agent announced “We need 3 people to volunteer to take the 8:00 flight and we’ll pay you $250” so I walked up and was the first to volunteer.

The two ladies I was traveling with didn’t get seat assignments, so they had to wait until the last minute. Meanwhile I phoned for someone to come pick me up because I was now flying with H and the count. They let one of the ladies have a seat assignment, but didn’t give one to the other – but since they were riding together in Tulsa, that wouldn’t work. The one that had a seat said, I can’t go without her, so American said “Get on the plane NOW or we’ll give your seat away.” She said, “how can I get on if I don’t have a ride when I get there?”

With all of the tact of Donald Trump firing someone, American said “You’re not going now,” and gave her seat to someone else … the lady she was traveling with. So now guess who’s not getting on the plane.

After much drama and a ridiculous amount of ignorant, frustrating, stupid conversations for my level headed travelers to an obviously over-worked, under educated, non listening gate agent, they finally called both of them up, gave them a ticket, and told them get on a plane … then looked at me and told me to do the same thing.

I was floored. Not only was I not planning on getting on that plane, I had a ride coming, I could have really helped my wife, I wasn’t packed or ready, what the Heck?

Only later did I find out that the plane was over-sold by 3 seats. Although I volunteered first, three ladies traveling together volunteered after me, but they all had to travel together, so they changed my little number from 1 to 4, and stuck me on the plane. I have summed it up rather nicely here, I can tell you that the reactions that took place are definitely NOT suitable for printing. To say that American Airlines stinks, doesn’t begin to adequately explain all of the bad business decisions that the company made.

Now when H arrived to take her plane back to Tulsa, the gate agents were about as accommodating as a prison guard.

Apparently the Big Heated Eddie plane didn’t last very long because they had to again switch H’s plane and stick her on another one. She arrived in Tulsa a couple of hours later and we were all in a terrific happy mood … but at least we were home.

So, to summarize our story – Fly Delta.

Welcome Home!

So I had to go to Chicago over the weekend for work, and the trip was an adventure to say the least. I’ll get into the wonderful details of our adventure when I recoup a little better, but I thought I would give a brief synopsis of my arrival home.

Since H’s family live in Chicago (more importantly, about a mile from where I was working), she took a trip too. We arrived home last night about 2:00 AM.

I needed to let the two puppies out to go potty, so I let them and Eve out really quick, then brought them back in. They had been in the kennel for several hours, so they were of course, more than a little hyper that Dad was home and apparently he wants to play.

As I bring them inside and try to corral them, it’s like trying to herd a dozen toddlers in a toy store – what’s this, what’s over here, can I get up on that, who’s in there, what’s that noise … not to mention that they are FAST and STRONG and NEVER go in the same direction. So as I’m scrambling to catch one, the other one is into something even worse.

The kid wakes up and starts crying, the wife is trying to cater to the Big Dog who has a booboo that she needs to pay attention to. I’ve been up since before 6:00 and have been doing heavy lifting all day, then air travel, then a 2 hour car drive home. I can barely see straight.

Evie is trying to tell me hello because I was gone for 3 days and she was SURE I was dead, so she needs to sniff me constantly to make sure I’m not an imposter. I’m herding hyper puppies into their kennels, pushing Evie off, hurrying to get to the Baby who’s now screaming his head off, Kennel! IN! Off Evie! Coming Little GUY! Quick! Come! Down! Hold! Humphrey! Iggy! Evie! Be Right There Buddy! No! HERE! STOP! COME! DOWN! HOLD! NOW!!!!!

Finally, things settle down …..

I wake up at 6:00 AM bleary eyed to go let the puppies out and as I round the corner to the office, gazing back through the double French doors is a little surprise …. There’s a little fat brown and white puppy waggling his tail at me and smiling as if to say, “Good Morning Daddy! The kennel didn’t shut, look what I did!”.

Uh Oh.

In order to hinder accidents, I had covered one of the big dogs beds with several layers of plastic sheeting, and then covered that with some bed sheets. The little Roly Poly figured out if you pull back the covers on the big dog bed, you can entertain yourself for HOURS by pulling back layers of plastic over and over again. There was also something no longer discernable on the bed. I’m sure it’s something important, but at the time I didn’t have time to discover what it actually was.

Between the 60 year old Oak Desk, the endless computer cables, pictures, and books, I’m slightly worried about what else I will discover when I get home.

I can’t wait ….

How’d That Happen?

We are all growing and learning, but some of us are doing it faster than others.

Here are some things that we have learned (with a little input from Aunt Roo).

The Count
Toes taste good.
Daddy can't taste his toes.
If they sit your car seat close enough to the flower vase, it comes toward you easily.
When Mommy and Daddy rush to grab the flower vase you can stick the leaf you got into your mouth.
When Mommy and Daddy finally realize you're chewing on a leaf and take it from you, it's easy to get to the other two you stashed in the car seat for later.
When you pull on a straw at the table, a lot of liquid pours out of the glass.
Mommy moves fast when a glass is spilled in a restaurant.
Mommy doesn't move fast enough.
When Mommy learns not to sit you near glasses, Daddy knocks over the glass at Mommy anyway.

The Puppies
Don’t mess with Frogs.
Ants bite back.
Butterflies are hard to catch.
Just because you bring a branch all the way to the porch doesn't mean that you get to bring it inside.
If you lean over far enough, you WILL fall into the bathtub.
If you eat a lot, you may get stuck under the bed.
No matter how hard you try, it's still impossible to make a 90 degree turn on hardwood floors at full speed.
Although it takes a grown man 15 minutes to hammer in a tree stake, two puppies can pull it out in 30 seconds.
Plants taste good.
Potted plants taste better.
After you eat the potted plants, you can chew on the pots.
Although mom said that plant couldn't be killed no matter how she tried, puppies can kill it.

And the voice was silent

I’m sure that you were as shocked as I was when hearing about his death.

He was someone that influenced the very fabric of our lives. An iconic voice that radiated like no other.

When I heard the news I stood there, with my head down, staring at my hardwood floors wondering if life was ever going to be the same.

Now lately when I turn on the television it seems I am constantly reminded of the void in our lives. His personality was larger than life, and his enthusiasm could truly hook you.

I just want to take a moment and remember the man.

So long Billy Mays, my laundry, my floors, my walls will never be the same.

The Things We Kept

So I need to update everyone on puppies.

All have gone to good homes, but the two we kept.

I can't exactly pinpoint why we kept the ones we did, perhaps the readers out there can put a finger on it.

We kept one boy and one girl. Humphrey Beauregard and Ingrid (Iggy) Isabella.

Samson recently had his 9th birthday party, and of course, mom bought a doggy cake for all to share.

Here is a picture of Sam and Eve enjoying it.

Here is a picture of Humphrey and Iggy.

Like I said, I can't quite figure out what drew us to these two, perhaps you can see something we don't.

Notice the icing on Sam's nose ... good stuff

The Anniversary

So I’m getting a little flak for not updating this in a while, but I’ve been a little busy.

We headed out on vacation a few weeks ago, Me, H, the count, and about 5000 lbs of baby gear. We bought a big ‘ol SUV some time back for the purpose of having room “when we had a family”. Well, apparently that SUV wasn’t big enough for a 12 pound kid plus us, so I had to go out and purchase a roof rack. I’m afraid if we have another kid, I’m going to need to buy a 16 ft trailer just to go see the grandparents. No wonder few people stray far from home, it’s cheaper to see grandparents when you don’t have to transport half the house.

We headed to the beautiful, pleasant beaches of the Gulf Coast and spent approximately 14.2 minutes enjoying the shore. The count doesn’t like the sun, doesn’t like the lotion, and the water is too cold. Luckily, the place we were at had a lazy river that we could lounge around in … and the count only likes that for 1.5 laps. You would be amazed how a 4 month olds voice can carry as it bounces off the walls of a high rise condo.

In my previous blog I mentioned about my digestive problems, well they were still very much present when we went on vacation, and thus starts my humorous portion for today.

I had to really watch what I was eating, lest my problems come screaming back, so I was doing my best to stay away from things that would cause such distress. That being said, I was maybe eating things that my digestive track wasn’t used to, and although I wasn’t in pain, there were some “unfortunate side effects” associated with said grubbage.

My sister volunteered to baby sit the count the evening of H’s and my anniversary. I thought it would be romantic to take H to dinner at the Bed and Breakfast that we had dinner at the night we got married. We got there, and had a very nice dinner. Got to enjoy each others company for a while, and just relax.

After dinner we ordered dessert and kept up our delightful conversation. H mentioned that it would be nice to have a cup of coffee with dessert and I agreed. I looked around for our waiter to let him know our request. I caught a glimpse of him out of the corner of my eye so I turned in my chair to summon him. As I called to him “Excuse me sir” the room seemed to hush for my request as all ears fell upon me. I don’t know if it was a result of my recent diet, the position I was in when I turned, or a combination of other such factors, but as the room fell silent and before I could get anything out of my mouth, I let out the biggest fart that perhaps ever has befallen the ears of man. Not missing a beat, I just said “Can we have a couple of coffee’s when you get a chance?”

I think my wife just about died, but what could I do. If I acted as though I did anything wrong, or if I heard it (how could I not have) then I would have no deniability that it was me.

As my wife stifled her laughter she said “Well I guess I know what the next blog topic will be” and so as not to disappoint her, yes, I again share my extreme embarrassment for your amusement.

Quite the interesting scenario

I’m quite the idiot at times, I completely understand this. But I find needlessly spending money quite horrific, and this is where my adventure started.

Since getting my son out of the hospital, the medical bills have been pouring in, and with a lot of sacrifice and a little help from Uncle Sam’s tax returns, we have slowly been getting a handle on our expenses. A month-long stay in the intensive care unit can put a damper on the wallet.

I mention this because this is what was going through my head the other night while I was in the fetal position on the bathroom floor trying to get my abdominal pains to go away. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

Shortly after dinner, I started getting some stomach cramps. I have possibly the worst plumbing in the world, so abdominal cramps aren’t necessarily anything new to me. I dismissed it as normal wear and tear and proceeded to go through my nightly ritual of eating anything in sight and complaining about the single chore I am assigned each day. As the night progressed, the cramps began to get a little worse, and by 10pm I was in what I consider pretty decent pain.

Now I’m not that big of a wimp, despite my outward appearances. I won’t go into the boring details of what kind of pain I can and can’t handle, because that’s another story (specifically related to my first date with the wife … but that doesn’t sound too good does it). Anyway, I would say I have a decent tolerance for pain, and it’s this belief that further led to my demise.

By 11pm I had to excuse myself from our bed in order to go downstairs and ache alone. I was afraid I would wake the wife, so I thought it best to lie in a bed where I wouldn’t bother her. So I laid down thinking that I just had to work through these stupid cramps, shut up, and get a few hours of sleep before the call of the work whistle beckoned me. The wife came down shortly afterwards to advise me to go to the hospital and to see if she could help. I’m a MAN, I don’t need no help, I can do anything … do you have any gas medicine? I think she gave me the same stuff that she gives the count when he’s a little gassy lassie. Should do the job just fine, I’ll be back upstairs in a few minutes sweetie.

By the time she came back to check on me at 2am I was lying naked on the floor by the toilet, trying to decide which end would be more useful in the vicinity. To say the least, not a pretty sight. Imagine Chris Farley on a three day bender after the SNL Patrick Swayze dance scene and you might get the idea.

When the wife mentions again that I probably should go to the hospital, all that goes through my head is “I’m not going to pay $2000.00 to fart in the emergency room” which is exactly what I thought would happen. The wife just smiles and says, “I think you need to go to the hospital”, but what does she know. (Some of you might get that).

After rolling around on the tile floor of my bathroom for two hours, it crossed my mind that this might not be gas, but something more serious, but since it centered around my stomach, I didn’t think it was kidney stones. After trying to drown myself to get rid of the pain, I think my body started to imagine pain in places that it wasn’t, because the aches just kept migrating around.

By 3am I had a different outlook on life. I had decided that if I could just vomit, that the action would push the kidney stone (which by now I was convinced it had to be) through my system and I could get a little relief. Luckily for me, the action was not far behind the thought. Unluckily for me, the action gave little relief and just left me with a bad taste in my mouth. It was about this time that I had an original thought and I told the wife “I think I may need to go to the hospital”. And after giving me the look normally reserved for small children and stupid husbands, we loaded up the family and headed to the emergency room.

I’ll skip the usual pleasantries of emergency room characters in the middle of the night, and fast forward to the part where the doctor comes in and says “You don’t have kidney stones.”

That’s it, this is the $2000.00 fart that I was about to experience. I knew I was right, I knew I should have stayed home, I’m going to be broke for the rest of my life, now I probably have the swine flu to top it all off!

So he says they’re probably going to need to remove my gall bladder. Oh shut up. Sure she was right … I’m still going to be broke.

The Exodus Begins

Well, the first one is gone ... and the wife's a basketcase.

Maybe it was because he was the first one to open his eyes, or maybe it was his sweet nature, but Three Dot has now gone to live in a new home, with a new family, and a new name.

Three dot will forever be known as Dozer.

We wish him and his new family well.

One last look at our Bully Dozer.

Good Boy

The Monitor

When we first came home from the hospital, after doing some tests on the Count, the doctors determined that he needed to be on an apnea monitor. This is a small device that measures the heartbeat and breathing of the little man and alarms if there is a problem. As far as we can tell, there has never been a problem, but it sure is comforting to be able to place the monitor on him at night while we’re sleeping and know that if there IS a problem, we will know it and be able to react immediately.

This sounds very comforting and reasonable when you live in a controlled environment … our environment is not that controlled. This is what it actually turns into.

As the little man continued to grow, we didn’t realize that the leads needed to be adjusted to fit him better, so from time to time, the monitor would sound. I say sound and you imagine the little beep going off like you hear on the hospital television shows, beep, beep, beep. In reality I have come to the conclusion that this device was originally designed as an early warning system for air raids. It can be heard from two cities away. The national weather service actually called us and asked us to turn down the monitor because the citizens couldn’t hear the tornado warnings when they went off.

You can not hear yourself, much less the person standing next to you shouting “Hit the blue button! NO the BLUE BUTTON! HIT IT! YES HIT IT! NO NOT THAT WAY!”

Added to this wonderful little dance we would do, the bad dog would pretty much go ballistic. She BARKS and BARKS. Now this isn’t just when the thing goes off BEEEEEPPPP! When you turn the monitor on it makes a little “beep” and I swear the dog can hear it from the other side of t he house. “beep”, Woof, Woof, Woof. So you can imagine when the air raid goes off, what the bad dog’s reaction to it is, “WOOF WOOF WOOOF WOOOOF!”

Then we have Samson (the good dog). Poor thing is blind as a bat, but when something goes wrong, he’s coming to look. And if Samson is coming to check it out, there’s nothing in the world that ANYONE can do to prevent him from looking. He isn’t going to be stopped.

So here was a typical evening at our house. The wee man is getting put down to sleep, after about 2 minutes of him being down BEEEEEEEPP BEEEEEEEPPP, around the corner comes bad dog WOOOOFFF WOOOOFF WWOOOOOFFFF as I fight to get to the monitor … “JUST TURN IT OFF!!!” “WHAT????” BEEEEPPP BBEEEEEPPPP WOOOFFFF WOOOOOOFF then Samson jumps up to check everything out pushing us out of the way “NOOOO SAAAMMMMM” WOOOOFFFF “DOWN!” BEEEPPPP WOOOFFF, “I CAN’T REACH IT, MOVE SAM!” BEEEPPPP WOOOOF WOOOOF “CAN YOU UNPLUG IT?!” WOOOOOF BBBBEEEEEPPPPP “WHAT?” WOOOOF “SAM!” BEEEEPPPPPP WOOOOFFFF “UNPLUG?!” BEEEEP WOOOF BEEEEP WOOOF “NO, IT’S ON BATTERY POWER!” BEEEEEPPPP WOOOOF “IT’S ON FOR AN HOUR?!” BEEEPPP WOOOOF “SAM DOWN, NO, BATTERY!”.



This went on until we successfully got the thing to stop alarming. One night I had the bright idea to just hit the power button. As it turns out, if you just hit the power button it just ticks the thing off and you have to go through a series or 72 steps to get the thing to shut up. It’s kind of like you doing 80 down the interstate and decide to just rip the key our of the ignition to stop … doesn’t exactly work that way.

So here’s to the joys of technological advancement … I will need that technology to hear again one day.

Meal Time

So we're at home cooking Dinner last night. Well, semi-cooking.

H is busy making (OK, I'm just going to say it) instant mashed potatoes. Yes, I said it, we were going to eat instant mashed potatoes, and YES I was the one that chose them.

So she puts her Milk, her water and her butter in a pot, and asks me where the lid is for the pot. I reach the six inches it takes me to find it, and she places it on the pot already on the stove. In about 30 seconds I see her grabbing a cloth to pull the lid off of the pot that is now spewing the milk mixture everywhere.

H says a few choice words, nothing bad mind you, she's just aggravated at herself. She asks me to read the box on what she needs to do next.

So I start reading.

Bring Water, Milk, and Butter to a rapid boil in pot ...

and I'm not making this part up ...

Watch closely to prevent boil over.

Yes, it said this. It told her that it was going to boil over. I had to read it three times because I was laughing so hard while she mopped up the mixture. She already knew what it said. She didn't find my amusement very entertaining, but nonetheless, I had to show it to her on the box.

As it turns out, laughing hysterically at the wife while she is cleaning up the mess immediately relegates you to cleaning up the kitchen after dinner, including the milk mixture which is now all over the stove ... or all over you if you have a mean wife (which I don't, thank you).

But it was wort it.

People She Hates

So we head to the car dealership on Saturday. We purchased a vehicle last year, and in the vehicle purchase process they tried to sell us a maintenance package.

Well, we swindled them down to half the price they wanted, and for the most part I got my maintenance almost at cost.

When I pull in to get my 15,000 mile checkup, the guy tells me that it’s going to cost $280 for this thing. To say the least, I’m kind of ticked off. I start haggling with the guy and I want to know costs. Air Filter - $29.95. I tell him I can get one at Wal-Mart and put it in myself for $10. He gives me the “Well, you never know what kind of quality you’re going to get with those parts”. It’s a stinking AIR FILTER, I’m not asking for a Kidney here, the thing has to prevent dirt from getting into the engine. I could probably accomplish this with a wire clothes hanger and a roll of toilet paper, but Iwouldn’t exactly go that far.

What I’m more ticked about is the fact that I bought a maintenance package that apparently didn’t include actual MAINTENANCE. I told him I didn’t want anything and I left. He gave me some lovely reading material.

I get into the German car and head out with the wife and kid relaying my pleasant mood to her as she begins to read the material.

What the guy didn’t tell me is the “Dealer” recommends that maintenance because of the local driving conditions (which are akin to possibly Mayberry). The manufacturer recommends … let’s see … an OIL CHANGE. So as it turns out, the guys was hoping I would purchase a $280 widget that I didn’t need.

So now the wife is getting upset. Not at the fact that it wasn’t covered, but at the fact that the guy was trying to hustle me into a decision that I didn’t need because I looked like an idiot. So I’m mad, the wife is furious and I’m sure the kid let out a big fart just to show the whole family’s displeasure.

We’re all heading down the road looking for something to vent our frustration on, getting more and more fumed at each passing mile.

Then the wife makes the profound statement … “Car Salesmen, Mechanics, and Dentists, I can’t stand them! I wonder where we would be if they all just disappeared!!!!”

And in my rage and hatred I started to agree until I began to think about that.

“Well honey” I said, “I guess we would all be walking around with a lot of broken stuff complaining of a toothache.”

And that’s my silly thought for the day.

The Tale of the Toe

Last night I am awakened about 2:30 by the summoning of the count for his midevening snack. Lately I have been a selfish insensitive jerk, well I'm always a selfish insensitive jerk, but recently my jerkiness has escalated to a whole new level.

I have been feeding puppies at 9pm. Feeding is actually the least work. I have been pooper scooping at 9pm while the miniature poop machines eat. After such time that I finish my excrement duty, I head to bed. The wife stays up for her 11pm count feeding (as in accordance with her 10p - 2a schedule) after which she heads to bed. The next 2 feedings, whenever they may be, I have been skipping out of. No matter what time it is, she gets up and feeds the kid.

I wake up and feed the pups again at 5 before I head to work.

None of this was previously arranged mind you. She didn't say, "honey, my darling husband, and sweetness divine (she always calls me that) if you feed the puppies early in the evening then late in the morning, I will forgo sleep completely and take care of the kid". She didn't say that, but that's exactly what she's been doing.

So 2:30 rolls around, and you can tell my conscious has been getting to me. I get out of bed and halfway stumble into the counts room. By the time I can put the pacifier in his mouth (which usually buys me 5 minutes to heat up his bottle) the wife is in there consoling him. I tell her I will get this one, but in my sleepwalking state it probably sounded more like, "aaiihhh geeet thiiisssssuuuunnn" and I head down to heat up a bottle while the wife rocks the kid to prevent him from waking up France.

Flashback 5-6 weeks ago.

I'm heading out into our garage to get something. I have recently come home out of a drenching rain which soaked me to the bone, so I'm wearing some shorts and a t-shirt and that's it. I step off of our bottom stair in the garage, and don't notice the pool of water that has accumulated at the base of the steps which has dripped off my car because the aforementioned downpour I was in. As soon as my foot hits the puddle and has all of my weight applied on it, the foot goes flying forward. The only thing that stops me from landing on my head was my cars tire. I was truly lucky to catch that tire, the only problem was what I caught it with.

The entire weight of my body in rapid accelerating descent was stopped by the force of ONE of my toes catching the side of that tire. It wasn't my big toe, mind you, my body could have possibly absorbed that, it was the longer one right next to it. It mangled that toe like Styrofoam in the microwave.

Granted, this injury wasn’t something that I thought required surgery to fix, but I probably should have at least gone to the doctor for it to be taped and splinted up. Me being the soccer player though, thought I should just shut up and live through it.

Over the next several weeks I discovered many things. Apparently after having a baby, you acquire all sorts of big stuff that would have never been in your house. High chairs, strollers, car seats, all of these and many more wonderful items now litter your floor wherever you can find the space. And since I have been running on little sleep for a while now, my direction and balance are less than optimal. I seem to have found these items all over my house with that toe. And by finding them, I of course mean kicking the heck out of them. I know for a fact that I have re-broken my toe no less than 4 times over the past few weeks. To say the least, my toe is a little achy now and then, and every time I seem to be making a little headway, I find a way to set myself back to square one.

Back to last night.

I wander back upstairs after heating the bottle and find my beautiful wife rocking our child in her little chair. She rises to let me sit down, and I halfway collapse into the comfortable chair hoping that I will at least stay awake long enough to put the bottle in the kids mouth.

H, being the giving person that she is, offers to feed the little man and let me go back to bed. She does this every day, for 24 hours a day, and I can’t suck it up and do it once, c’mon. I thank her and decline with the "aaiihhh geeet thiiisssssuuuunnn" again, my drool sliding down my face as I struggle to keep my eyes open. My wife gently steps forward, hands me my eagerly awaiting son, smiles at me with that sort of pity normally reserved for mentally handicapped people, and a searing pain rises from the depths of my extremeties. In her loving gentle manner, she has put all of her weight on my toe as she is handing me the little one.

Let me tell you something, if you are having trouble staying awake at 2:30 in the morning, boy do I have a cure for you.

I spent the rest of the evening after I fed the wee man searching the internet for a new toe.

Call it Karma, call it divine intervention, but I bet I won’t be missing any more of those 2am feedings when it’s my shift.