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.