New Year, Same Life.

I had high hopes. I vowed tangible changes would happen. We would leave our old problems behind. A new year, a new outlook on life, a new beginning. In anticipation of a new start, I even tried to get a jump on things and attempted to start my resolutions early. I did not over eat during the holidays and I tried to be calmer with the kids. I tried to stop worrying so much. I made a vow to try harder to be on time to everything.

On New Years Eve, I stood outside by myself, thinking about what I wanted to change, and how I would be different in the future. My resolve was strong, and I was happy and confident that at midnight I would be a completely new man.

As I slipped into bed shortly after midnight, my wife asked me if I had taken a shower in order to symbolically not carry anything from 2011 into 2012. She seemed a little incredulous that I had overlooked something as profound as a ritual cleansing. It was not good enough that I had showered earlier in the day. I think that somehow I was supposed to realize that there was a need to not carry my old self into the new year. It got me wondering though. How was I supposed to rid myself of the old in a way that did not carry over into the new year? I mean, technically at what point do you step out of the shower and not take last years horror with you? You would have to get out of the tub and towel off at precisely 12 midnight, one second before or after and you may as well never showered at all. I might add that explaining this to Dessy did not help my case and I think I ruined the chance for a fresh start of another New Year for her. 

Sunday morning, January 1st, I woke up started to get the kids ready for church, of course half an hour later than I really should have gotten up. Arrived at church 5 minutes late of course. Josh informed me that he had to go to the bathroom, so while I took care of his needs, Dessy rushed off to work in the nursery. Upon exiting the boys room I was informed that there were no children's classes that morning so Josh had to come sit with me. The word "sit" is really a relative term in this case. Josh was squirming, twisting and could not decide if he wanted to stand or kneel in his chair. Everyone was singing the opening songs, and I decided that Josh could look at pictures on my phone. I was sure this would entertain him in a very quiet manner. The last song came to an end, and the pastor stood up to make the announcement that we should all be seated. I was waiting for the word to sit and suddenly there in the middle of the sanctuary, in front of God and all the angels, Josh decided to play Angry Birds. The music cut through the attitude of solemn worship and I reached for the phone to turn it off. Then Josh before handing it back, LOCKED IT!!!! Everyone else sat as I stood there in utter panic, trying to punch in the password. I sat down and saw people whispering and pointing at me. I could feel my blood pressure rising. I set down the phone and looked up toward the front of the church trying hard to be less conspicuous. As the pastor gave his opening remarks, Josh sneakily took my phone and turned on the Angry Bird game AGAIN!!! I guess you get better with practice, so I was able to shut it off quicker that time.

I took a few deep breaths trying to calm down. Josh looked at me and whispered, "Daddy, I need to go to the bathroom." I whispered back that he had just gone and that we needed to listen to sermon. Josh responded rather well to this and sat quietly like a good boy. Just kidding, He put his head down started crying and wailed, "Daddy, I am going to pee my pants!!!" I grabbed Josh, the phone, the kid's coat and took him back to the bathroom. Of course when he tried to go to the toilet, he let go with all of two drops. I dare not re-enter the sanctuary after all this so we sat in a side room and listened to the sermon. Or at least I tried. Josh was pretty content to be able to sit near me and ask questions about the pictures on the wall, the decor and why there was a throbbing purple vein on my forehead.

After the service was concluded, I tried to sneak out the front door, but was stopped cold by the Pastor. He put his hand on my shoulder, his eyes dancing. He informed me that a couple of the teenage boys were hoping to give me hints on how to play angry birds in silent mode so that next time I would not get caught.

Happy New year.

The Holidaze, Part Three, - The Apocalypse.

Friday morning, December 23, 2011. This day, so I am told, according to the Mayan calendar is the first day of the end of the world. Maybe the Mayans were not as far off from the truth as we thought. Upon waking up, I felt a twinge of pain in the toes of my left foot. It was a foretelling of things to come in the very near future. I initially thought that I may have suffered a bad cramp in my sleep but after a couple of hours I was limping badly and the foot had swollen to twice the normal size. It quickly progressed from a twinge to excruciating pain. I Googled the symptoms and  determined it was either a stress fracture in the foot, or maybe bursitus. Not having time to deal with it properly I took a pain killer and tried to get all the other work that was needed to be completed before zero hour arrived.

My wife Dessy and I had gotten all the presents we wanted for the children, and I had stashed them out in the SUV so the kids could not find them. We carefully planned out what present to buy for Josh, finding the perfect balance of a fun, educational and affordable toy. Oh, and it would not kill anyone if it actually performed a needed function in the home.

Josh has always been interested in the vacuum cleaner, and when I saw a shiny red Dirt Devil on clearance for 10 dollars, I knew I was going to be a hero in a little boys eyes. When I got home, I wrapped all the presents, and hid them away.

Christmas eve arrived and I put all of it under the tree. Josh was very curious and asked me who the big box was for. "Why, now that you ask Josh, it is for your little brother because we could only afford one gift and we decided it was best to give it to the kid who could not talk well enough to voice his disappointment."
Josh, being used to this sort of answer by now ignored me and asked what was in the big box. Just to shut him up, I replied that it was a garage door opener. Josh seemed to accept this with out further investigative type interrogation. I thought that was the end of it, until a couple of hours later Josh came to me and informed me that the fake Christmas tree was defective enough that it managed to rip a piece of the wrapping paper off of the garage door opener present. I tried to hide my smirk and called out to Dessy, " Hon! Josh told me the tree is trying to open the presents! Maybe we can train it to open the mail too!  Dessy muttered something like "Ahh staga naga!" which either means "God Help me." or Why didn't I marry a doctor instead of guy who thinks he is funny?"

As Josh became more excited about the big event, he became increasingly naughty and so I resorted to a tactic that I am not proud of. Overt threats. "Josh, Stop dropping F-bombs, Santa knows you are being naughty." or "Josh! Stop hitting your brother, Santa will give all your presents to starving kids in China!" OK, I admit, sometimes I mix the metaphors and it may not actually deliver the message that was trying to convey. 

Evening rolled around and we head out to the Church for a candle light service. We sat in the pew and Josh noticed that there had been a pre service mixer with cookies and other finger foods. While we were singing   "Oh Holy Night" Josh dashed off and he came trotting back up with a plate of cookies and crackers. He was nice about it, and shared crackers with his brother, but managed to eat two large cookies. Then the pastor announced that the kids had a special treat and to come on up and get it. Josh came back with another sugary treat. Service ended and the boy was starting to get his sugar high on. He went to say goodbye to the pastor and came back with yet ANOTHER cookie. The pastor had just made a comment to my wife about how wonderful it was to have Josh sing in the kids choir the week before and how maybe next year he will not run laps around the stage and hold his ears in mock pain while the other kids were singing. At this point, Josh is literally running all over the church and was making overly loud jet engine sounds. It was not looking like we were going to get him to bed early.

We arrived home and Josh asked for the fifteenth time if it was Christmas yet. I explained that It was close, but if he was still awake when Santa came, then our house would be passed over and no presents would be found in the morning.I then took Josh to the bedroom, sat him and his brother down and tried to explain the true meaning of Christmas by reading "TheNativity". Then I read "Twas the Night Before Christmas" which in retrospect may not have helped drive the message home how Jesus was born in a manger, not delivered by Santa's sleigh.

The boys fell asleep and I began to assemble the presents that needed it. By 2 a.m. I was done and Dessy and I were ready to go to sleep. Maybe it was the fatigue, or maybe it is my twisted and tortured nature, but I had an idea on how to really get Josh excited about Santa. I took a string of sleigh bells that I have, and stood outside of Josh's window and shook them with all my might. I bellowed out, "HO HO HO, Merrrrrrryyyyy Christmas!" I heard Josh cry out, Mommy it is SANTA!!!" I then fired off a few rounds from my shotgun and yelled, "Get the HELL off my roof and take those over grown goats with you!"
I came back inside to find a wide eyed little boy who looked very confused. I did not say a word, and went to bed. I figured that Josh was smart enough to draw his own conclusions.

The next morning we slept til about 7 and got the kids up to see their reaction. Josh loved his presents, and Johnathan being only 14 months, was experiencing his first Christmas with a tree and presents. It was not long until there was piles of ripped up wrapping paper, boxes that the toys were in, ad toys them selves strewn all over the living room.  I was expecting the kids to be in a state of bliss, but I could not have been more wrong. It turns out that if you give kids a few presents, they do not grab hold of the of Peace on Earth, Good will to Men concept, but rather they become even more greedy and selfish. One kid crying, the other kid standing in the corner tell me that I daddy, not Josh that was being naughty. It was just horrible.

Dessy was upset with me all of a sudden, because somehow all this was my fault. Never mind that we had gone together to buy the presents, and Dessy had gone off script with a couple of items. It was still my fault. I pointed out that I had not received any presents and was not acting out at all, but Dessy who had been given the most romantic holiday gift I could think of; an electric donut maker, was not being a good little girl and was actually starting to irritate the heck out of me. I would have told her if she is a bad girl that Santa might take her presents back. She quietly but firmly mentioned that Santa was not likely to come back after the  shotgun episode anyway. I knew I had lost the war on this one, so I just moved on.

The day after Christmas, Dessy wanted to go out for the big sales. My foot was starting to feel better so I was willing to walk around and brave the crowds. I personally hate this part of the holiday, because I always do the same things. I go buy an armload of Christmas lights at half price, forget about them for a few years and invariably end up giving a big box of brand new 5 year old lights to someone who can use them. Tonight we were out doing the shopping and I decided to go to a local Christmas light attraction known as the Greeley Griswolds. We sat out in front of the house, listening to the radio and the home coordinated musical selection that matched the lighting sequences. We stopped at McDonald's on the way, got a bag of chicken nuggets and french fries.

As we sat there munching away, watching the lights flash as the kids squealed in delight, I looked at my kids, my car full of Wal-Mart half price lights and ornaments, the smell of cold McDonald's food mixing with the smell of one of the kids soiled and stinky diapers wafting about me. I had a revelation that washed over me like a wave. I could not have asked for a better Christmas.

Next up, the count down to new years. 

The Holidaze, Part 2

The last few shopping days are upon us, and of course we just sat until nearly the last minute. This is what the retailers live for, the procrastinators waiting for the chance to get the best deals, when in reality all the good cheap stuff is gone and all that is left it wrapping paper and plastic fasteners for the Christmas lights. If you want a gift for the wife that won't keep you in the doghouse til next Christmas, you are going to have to pony up the cash there Sparky! And spend cash you will, despite your good intentions to not end up having to skip a utility payment or two in order to avoid making it a holiday that you will remember with all the fondness of the time you got your first colonoscopy.

A week or two ago when the kids got to take pictures with Santa, Josh asked for a bicycle. Santa looked up at me with a pleading look so I could slightly nod an affirmation that Josh indeed would be getting a bike. Santa's face fell when I took a look of indifference and said " Don't look at me buddy boy, if you were real, you would know if he is getting one or not!" Well, that set the tone for the rest of the day, and as we walked away, I looked back and snidely remarked that Santa should maybe stop having the three martini lunches before showing up for a photo op.

Josh got pretty excited about getting a bike, which was totally not in the game plan for us. So last night we decided to go pick out a couple of gifts at the Toys-R-Us for the boys. We knew what we wanted and got the last one on the shelf. Lucky for us there was no real pushing or shoving, or people breaking out the pepper spray to ward us off. Maybe that only happens at the Wal-mart.
After we got the toy in the cart I took Josh to see the bicycles. We put him on one with training wheels and I gave him a good shove to get him going. Josh fell right over and when I tried to force him back in the saddle he said 'Daddy, I am scared." In my most loving and fatherly voice, I then suggested that perhaps he was not ready for a bike after all. Josh said, "Yea, I am too little still."  "Josh, that is OK." I said. "Santa will bring you something else that you like." Now I am not admitting that this was all part of my cunning plan. But it worked out in my favor all the same.

When we were headed home it started to snow pretty hard. I was driving the sedan, and it was pretty slick out. I was not worried about it though, we would make it home and I still have my old SUV which plows through anything. If you can start it, that is.  Which this morning I could not. The battery had died and so I put it on the charger. While I cleaned off the driveway. I had gotten about halfway through the right side of the driveway when I heard geese honking overhead then what sounded like the pitter patter of Santa's little elves. For the record, it was not elves. I was able to duck into the garage before needing to rewash my hair, but it was a close call. I finished up shoveling the driveway then started up the Trooper and high tailed it over to the store to get a new battery.

As I stood in the parking lot with no coat and my hands freezing, I worked on replacing the battery muttering incessantly "You know what is more fun that having an SUV for the bad snow storms? Having the battery die and you are out in the Sam's Club parking lot changing the battery in 19 degree weather and snow with no gloves, that's what!
Apparently it was a very sorry sight because a Salvation Army bell ringer came over and gave me a few of bucks and told me to go get a bottle of Thunderbird to help be make it though the cold winters night. I really did not think I was that shabbily dressed, but maybe my wife was right about retiring my favorite old jeans and  my sun faded tattered "It's a Pepsi Generation" T-shirt.

Maybe Santa will know what to bring.

The Holidaze, Part 1

The holiday season has descended upon this family and I really have mixed feelings.
I love the whole thing, Thanksgiving, Christmas lights, lighting the menorah for Chanukah, the kids excitement about the decorations, and The New Years celebration. Not to mention the stress, the extra work, the increased debt load, and 43,000 extra calories I am plastering on my hips. As the children grow and show their delight, it makes it all worthwhile, right?

Please someone, tell me I am right!

Financially, we are in a lean season like so many other people. So I try and plan activities that are relatively cheap or even free. One of my favorites is going to see the holiday lights, a virtual freebie. Sometimes it does not work out as well as I would hope. Last night we drove down to the Denver capitol to see how nicely the Civic Center was lit up. Unfortunately we got there before the turned on the lights. Instead of getting to see the warm glow of thousands of little light bulbs, we got to see the Occupy Wall Street Protestors all lined up in their makeshift tents and boxes. It was a sad sight, because I did not see actual protesting. Rather I saw a lot of younger folks sitting around playing cards, and smoking like trains. Josh looked over the sight, seeing the garbage and tarps strewn all over. He asked me about who all the people were. Not wanting to reveal my true feelings, and break the holiday spirit, I just told him that they were some of Santa's elves. Josh looked a little confused, then asked, "Daddy, are elves all potheads? That one over there is lighting a joint!"

Now, given how many toys are advertised for Christmas, it is natural that the boys will want all the toys they see on display. The way I deal with this is with something that I like to call it the "Try It, But Never Buy It" maneuver. The way it works is that right before we leave for the store, I make the kid drink a quart of water. When we get to the store, I put Josh in the shopping cart and push him through the toy section of the store. I let him look until he sees a toy he wants to try out. I give it to him then as he plays with it, I walk him around a while until he realizes that he cannot live without it. By this time, the kid has to go pee. Then I wait 15 minutes until the Josh is desperate to not wet himself. He gets so distracted by this that I can put the toy back on the shelf and he does not realize what has happened until we are on the way back home.


Our three year old, Josh recently came home from Sunday school with a note instructing the parents that he was going to perform a couple of songs the next week and that we needed to ensure he would learn the song before arriving at the service. I sat with josh and taught him the words and tune to "Angels We Have Heard On High". Our sessions went well, as Josh is a fast learner, and soon Josh had the words and tune memorized. We were quite proud of our little boy.
Until the performance that is.
At the appointed time, Josh went up to stand with the kids, got in his appointed place and the music started. I lifted up my camera to get the video, and suddenly Josh was nowhere to be seen. I looked again and he was rolling on the floor. He got up and decided that he needed to inspect the back of the stage and started running laps around the rest of the choir. I was helpless, and had to curb my impulse to yell, "Get the hell back on the stage!" but of course I was in church and somehow that would label me as the "bad daddy". Josh then, satisfied that the back of the stage was fine, walks to the front of the choir and holds his hands over his ears. At this point I tried to sink into my chair, so no other parent would look at me and blame me for allowing my rotten kid to ruin their little snowflakes performance. As soon as the song was over, Josh came running back to my chair and said too loudly, "Daddy, I have to pee!" This was my chance and we snuck out the back of the church where soon there would be wailing and knashing of teeth, at least for Josh. I sat Josh down in a corner and defined proper performance behavior. He looked up at me with the "I am not listening to you daddy, and you may as well get used to it" face.

He's 3, whaddya do?

Pre Thanksgiving Fiasco

Time to get on the game face. Thanksgiving is just hours away.  We are in panic mode trying to do the last minute prep work before we have to wake up, watch parades, and cook up dinner. 

Instead of writing, I should be baking a pumpkin cheesecake. 

We gathered up the kids, and headed out to do a bit of shopping, despite it being the most desperate time to go to the supermarket, because everyone is out frantically looking for the things they forgot for the big meal. After we got our groceries, Dessy hinted that she was craving some Chinese food and that she had heard of a new place in town. Now, I need to explain  that we live in a historically agricultural area, the ethnic breakdown is something like 50 percent Caucasian, 45 percent Hispanic, 4.9 percent Somalian or Philippine folks. And about 10 families of Chinese descent. My point is, that you cannot get decent Chinese food here, no matter how you try. Fact is, at many of the Asian restaurants here, the staff is Hispanic. Go figure. 

We found the restaurant, which turned out to be a take out place with a couple of tables. We made our order and waited for it to arrive. 

Josh, our 3 year old was not interested in the fried rice we got him and asked for egg. At this point it may be important to point out that Josh just got over having a bout of the stomach flu. 

I looked at the menu and decided to get him an order of egg foo young. It came out and Josh looked excited. He took one bite and said it was good. I began to eat while the food was still hot then I heard a horrible noise. I was hoping it was just the sound of water spilling on to the floor but no, it was my kid blowing chunks all over the table. Not just once, not twice, but three iterations of the technicolor fountain comprised of fried rice, fried egg and what appeared to be wanton soup. It was just glorious. The proprietor, who had been chattering away in Cantonese suddenly switched to broken English and I think he was describing what water front property in Hong Kong looked like on a bright summers day, because it sounded like "Oh the sunny beaches over there!" I was horrified and asked for a role of paper towels while begging for forgiveness. We got it all cleaned up and headed out to the car. 

As I drove home in sullen silence, I remembered how once when I was about 10 years old, I was out at a smorgasboard restaurant with my family and I too managed to decorate the sink in the bathroom with an awful load of chunky soup. I remember my fathers reaction and how for years after that story came up at family gatherings. The rest of us laughed but oddly, my father remained a bit quiet about the memory. I felt compelled to call my parents right away, and I let them know what happened and how I no longer thought the story was funny. 

Oddly enough, my father found THAT to be funny.

It is time I get to baking, so I will leave you with a wish for a Happy Thanksgiving, and a poem I wrote for the holiday some years ago.

      Ode To Thanksgiving

      'Twas the morning of Thanksgiving,

      And all through my house.

      You can hear lots of screaming from me and my spouse.

      From inside the kitchen with groceries to spare.

      We argued and fought over how to prepare.

      The guests will be coming,

      Expecting our best.

      The food won't be ready

      And our house is a mess.

      When on top of the stove, the yams made a splatter,

      And Dessy came running, to see what was the matter.

      The potatoes were flying, as I started to mash,

      then fell on the floor and into the trash.

      The bread won't be made, cause I messed up the dough

      and the stuffing is runny, why I don't know.

      When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,

      But a miniature wife, and I shuddered in fear

      With a gleam in her eyes, and armed with a stick,

      I knew in a moment it's my butt she would kick.

      She drew in a deep breath, I quivered in shame,

      She shouted , and heckled, then bellowed my name!

      Get out of my kitchen, you're just in the way.

      I can't stand your face for even one more day.

      Cut carrots,

      Chop Celery,

      Slice onion,  and ham.

      Make Gravy,

      Do it your way,

      I don't give a damn.

      As the yelling subsided, I wished I could die,

      My little boy shuddered and started to cry.

      Then mommy took over, I ran in fear,

      I hid in the basement and sipped on a beer.

      And then, in a twinkling, I heard a crash on the floor,

      Then wailing and crying and a slamming front door.

      I went to the kitchen to find no one there,

      The mess that had happened was too much to bear

      I laughed when I saw it, the food on the shelf!

      We're out of time, I said to myself.

      I thought for a moment, "This isn't so bad,

      Let's go have dinner with my mom and my dad

      We drove to their house, and told them the deal,

      and begged them to let us come in for a meal.

      Mom spoke not a word, Dad had a big smirk,

      And said to my face that I was a big jerk.

      He then thumbed his nose and slammed the door shut,

      I looked at Josh and Dessy and said "Now what?"

      She suddenly smiled, and said "I know a way!"

      And away we all went to the Country Buffet.

      We all ate our fill, for $ seven ninety nine,

      Then went back to the house for a cheap glass of wine.

      As we fell asleep on the sofa, a voice yelled out in the night,

      "Happy Thanksgiving to all to all, and to all a big fight!

Thanks a lot.

I have a lot to be thankful for, and it seems appropriate that I express it during the week of our Thanksgiving holiday.

The first thing I am thankful for is deafness in the elderly. Two Sundays ago it was my turn to be a greeter for our church. I took Josh, my 3 year old with me, because what could be more cute than a sweet little boy holding out his hand and saying "Good morning, Thank you for coming!"? If only it were that simple. As we smiled and greeted the stream of people coming in to worship, Josh shook the hand of an elderly woman then as she walked away Josh crinkled his nose and announced, ''She smells like a Hoover vacuum!" I could not shush him up soon enough.

I am thankful for Paul Mitchell brand Ultra Sculpting  Hair Styling Gel for Men. A few days ago my wife made a comment that my hair was getting a little long and that I should consider a haircut. Not wanting to shell out $25 dollars, I figured I could save money and do it myself. I have cut my hair numerous times in the past, I just take the electric clippers and buzz it down so close that I look like Uncle Fester. Dessy made me promise not to do a buzz cut, so I went to the mirror and proceeded to try and cut my hair with scissors. After about 4 good clips I knew I was in trouble, but after 3 more to the top, I was beyond hope. Dessy came and rescued me, trimming the sides of my head before I ruined that too. I asked if she had ever done this before? She sort of choked back a laugh and that was all the answer I needed. She got done, and said "Not so bad, you owe me $25 plus a tip." I for the life of me do not see how this translates to me saving money. In fact it is going to cost me more, because the damage I did to the top requires me to use the hair gel. Now my hair is all spiked up and I have the look of a frightened cat.

I am thankful for sugar and chocolate syrup. Last week I tried to use soy milk in my coffee. I was told that this would be a healthier alternative to using heavy cream. It turns out that if you use enough coconut flavored syrup and chocolate, you can totally forget how awful the soy milk tastes. I cannot see how it is healthier however, because my coffee drinks went from being about 80 calories to 500.

I am thankful for hard headed kids. Last week I was working in my home office down in my basement. About once an hour there would be a thunderous crash, then a wail of a child, followed by the panicky screams of my wife.
The 1 year old likes to climb now up on the couch, the bed, the kitchen table, you name it. The 3 year old likes to stand on the backrest of the couch and jump to other pieces of furniture. About 67 percent of the time one of them  ends up landing on his head. Both of the kids were pretty rowdy, and after a while they were falling down so often you would think it was raining bowling balls in my living room.

I am thankful for vegetarian propaganda films. Last month my wife watched a you tube video about how animals are treated before being processed into oh so delicious steaks, fried chicken or bacon. My wife was horrified by how the animals were dispatched. (that means killed in a violent and wildly violent manner, but it sounds civilized) As I saw the graphically astounding videos on the killing of pigs, cows, and turkeys I was not affected in the same profound manner that my wife was. Her response was to swear off of meat and now she is a vegetarian. My response was to get up and go to the fridge to see if we had any fried chicken leftovers. The way I saw it was that God gave me canine teeth for a reason, and I would be sinning if I did not to use them in the way they were meant to be. So I am thankful too,that this Thanksgiving, there will be an extra serving of white meat for me.

Most of all, I am thankful for sarcasm and humor, without either I would surely be much more of a cynic.

Don't you know better Daddy?

As my 3 year old matures, he gets smarter and more infuriating. Unlike his father, who as he ages just de-evolves on an hourly basis. I would like to think that there is a corollary here, even a transfer  as I get dumber, he is taking the I.Q. points that I am hemorrhaging, and he gets the benefit of it all. But give me three more hours and I won't even understand that last sentence.

I finally broke down and taught my son the trick that every man should pass on to his male offspring. The "Pull My Finger" trick. I called Josh over and said, "Grab my finger!" He was hesitant for some reason, perhaps his sense of self preservation was screaming for him to run while he still could. He squeezed my finger and I delivered the goods. It was an amazing sight, the shock followed instantly by sheer delight in his face. He could not wait to try this on his own, and let me tell you, he is a fast learner. I could not be more proud.

Last week we got one of our first good snow falls. It was coming down hard and fast and I made sure to check the trees throughout the night. I had to go out 1 1:30 a.m. and again at 4:30 a.m. to shake the heavy wet snow off of our new cherry trees before the branches broke off from the extra weight. Of course I did not dress for the occasion, I just put on a pair of shoes and ran out and did what needed to be done. Now, as a rule I like to be fully clothed when I go outside, but this was an emergency and I sort of figured that is any of my neighbors were staring out at my back yard at in the wee hours of the morning, then they just deserved the enchanting horror of seeing a fat guy in his loosely tied robe shaking the daylights out of a tree.

Early the next morning I looked out the front and saw that the snow was piling up all over and I got the numb idea to do a snow angel in my short pants and light short sleeved shirt. I asked Dessy to get the camera, and
raced out to the back yard in bare feet. I immediately slipped on the ice and landed on my left knee. I cried and whined like a puppy caught in a trap. It was just disgusting. I got back in the house, put on shoes and returned to complete the mission. Dessy took the picture and I returned to the house.

 
A couple of hours later I noticed that the pain was still pretty bad and I finally checked out my knee,only to discover that I had abraded the skin off the kneecap. I was sitting down when Josh approached me and looked very concerned at the swelling and bruising. He decided it was time to lecture me on bad behavior. "Daddy, what happened? Did you fall down on the ice?" I nodded, and he continued on with the lesson. "Daddy, why don't you wear shoes outside in the snow? If you wear shoes you won't fall down!" Every day since, Josh has pulled me aside to ask that again. I think that he is convinced that I still do not have a clue and that he will drive this point home by sheer repetition.

Last night I was changing the baby and the older child was observing. With a gasp he asked "Daddy! Why does he have a hole in his butt?" I calmly stated that everyone has that, but he was still full of questions. "Do I have that?" I affirmed that he did and it was normal. " Does Mommy have a hole in her butt too?"
I mumbled, "No son, she has your daddy."

Halloweenapallooza

Let me start out saying that I am not a big fan of the Halloween season. I have several reasons, the least of which is that I totally hate that in my neighborhood people start decorating as early as mid September and leave the stuff up until Thanksgiving. I just want to scream. It is disgusting to me that every house has the same cheap string of orange lights or the plastic headstone on the lawn. What some houses lack in imagination they try to make up for in quantity.One neighbor literally has something on ever square foot of their lawn. It looks sort of like the Halloween aisle at Walmart threw up on their lawn.

Another issue I have is with trick or treat. I still remember the good old days when it was safe to go door to door and get a bag full of candy. It was simple, go out, ring a doorbell, look cute, get as much candy as your bag could hold, go home and eat til you got sick. These days there are extra steps. Now you go out, trick or treat and get the candy. Then you bring it home and sort it. Take out the unusables, like the pencils and the soy sauce packets. (Oh I forgot to mention, if you look older than 12 and show up at my door, I give you a left over condiment packet that I have saved from all the fast food restaurants I have gone to that year.) Next you have to take the candy to the local hospital to have it scanned for needles and razor blades. (I like to think that there is a special place in hell for people who put that stuff in the candy.) Then and only then can you go home and eat.

What ever happened to the days when it was just children showing up in cute costumes? I get sort of creeped out when adult co-workers show up all costumed up, especially in their furry fetish costumes or outfits that no fat bodies should ever think of wearing. Seriously Superman and/or Wonder Woman never had a beer gut. I really do not like it when older teens show up trick or treating (Although,if any of you college age girls come by in a french maid outfit or in cosplay attire, kudos, I will give you extra candy for that.)

So we will see how the season shapes up. I think this year our 3 year old will want to go trick or treating. I am secretly hoping that he will want to wear the Batman costume I have saved from my childhood.

One of the biggest problems I have with Halloween is the pumpkins. Pumpkins, as it turns out are harbingers of death. I am not making this up, it is absolutely true. Josh asked me to carve a pumpkin for him this year. He sat and watched me and after I had carved it to his liking we put in a candle and set it on top of the TV. It sat there for a couple of days and then pumpkageddon. I arrived home after work yesterday and saw the remains of the pumpkin in the kitchen sink. I started to ask which kid knocked the pumpkin down and Dessy cut me off saying " The TV is DEAD!" Apparently the evil pumpkin warmed up on the tv set, got soft and collapsed on itself,leaking a load of liquid death on the front of the tv, causing it to short out.


My final and the biggest problem that I have with the season is how so many kids dress up like zombies and monsters. A friend of mine pointed out that this could be bad if trick or treat happened at the same time that the actual zombie apocalypse comes. How would you know what is zombie and what is a kid dressed up like one? The answer that I came up with is that I will be forced to just shoot 'em all and let God sort 'em out. So zombies and children alike, stay off my lawn.

Things I should not be saying out loud in my house.

One of the more unfortunate pieces of my persona is a propensity to speak before really thinking about the ramifications of my words. It has gotten me in trouble more than once.

Last Friday a nice couple from church took us out to see the 'Pumpkin Patch Boogie' which is a sort of a country style carnival with the proceeds going to a nice local charity. It has a hot dog and bean dinner, a petting zoo, square dancing and lots of games for the kids. We were heading back to the petting zoo and Josh saw a few of the pygmy goats. He asked me what they were and before I could stop myself, out popped "Those are Indonesian horses. God made them tiny so your mother could ride them." There were a lot of people and with all the noise it was hard to hear me yelp when Dessy kicked me in the shin.

One of the latest things that I had launched was in response to a comment my wife made while changing the baby. The little boy was being quite squirmy and mommy mentioned that the baby seemed to be grabbing his pee pee a lot. Before I could stop myself, I blurted " I suppose if no one else is grabbing it, he figures it is fair game to grab it himself." Suddenly the room became very cold. I slunk away trying not to let my giggling be audible.

Sometimes I have the time to think about what is going to come out of me, but unfortunately I never really pay attention to the voice yelling to stop before it is too late. On the way home from church last Sunday Josh asked his mommy if she was a boy or a girl? Mommy asked him to reason it out, "What do you think mommy is?" Josh thought it over and got a big smile and said "A Girl!" I thought I would help reinforce his perceptual process and asked him what was his grandmother, girl or boy? He relied a girl so I then raised the difficulty a couple of notches. "Josh, what is your cousin Amanda? Is she a girl or boy?" Josh immediately replied, " A girl!"

So I ask, " Are you sure? Why then is her name A - MAN- da?" Josh got a very confused look for a minute and his mother just shook her head and mumbled something in Indonesian.
At least she has the sense to blurt things in a language that I do not understand.

WHY, WHY, WHY?

Josh has hit the stage of childhood that I have not been looking forward to. He asks"Why?" about everything. Well, almost everything. He does have a correlated phrase that is often coupled with the Why argument, he also likes to ask;"And then what happens?"

Now I try to be patient with him, honest to Pete I do.
I largely believe a child should be nurtured and loved as long as it does not directly affect my personal biosphere, which by the way is only a working theory, I routinely have my space violated. Take last week for instance. Josh had me read him a bedtime story and fell asleep. I nodded off for about 2 hours then was awakened by a sobbing child and cold wet sheets. I changed him and the bed at 3:00 in the morning, at which point he decided to go back to his own bed and sleep, as his work was done.

About 2:30 this morning I hear a stirring in his room and stumble out half asleep to hear, "Daddy, I pooped" This is not the normal night routine, so I give the kid a pass and tried to be cordial as I cleaned him up. Josh seemed to not feel well and he asked if he could sleep with me. I agreed, and he got into bed and snuggled up to me. I was feeling all happy that my son was needing his daddy, and I reached over and turned out the light. "Go to sleep now Josh, close your eyes."

I was trying to be patient as Josh said "WHY?"
"Because I am sleepy and have to go to work in 3 hours."
"Why?"
"Because We need money to buy groceries."
"Why?"
Because we need to eat every day."
"Why?"

At this point I put a pillow over my face and prayed for a quick end. It was not to be.

Josh got really quiet and I thought he was asleep. I just started to doze off again and Josh just started blurting out everything that was on his mind at that point. I banished him back to his room.

A few minutes later I felt a little sorry for him, and maybe a twinge of guilt. He is only three after all and perhaps not the evil genius/nemesis that I am thinking he might be.

I walk to his room and I see him laying on the rug.

"Joshie, get up! You cannot sleep on the carpet."
"Why?"
"Because your bed is cleaner than the carpet."
"Why?"
"Because there could be spiders on the carpet."
"Why?"
Civility came to a screeching halt at this point and my regularly scheduled programming kicked back in.
"Because if you sleep on the carpet a spider will come get you and crawl in your ear!"
"Then what happens?"
"IT WILL EAT YOUR BRAINS!!!"
"And then what happens?"
"You will get all stupid."
"And then what happens?"
"You will not get into a good college like Harvard and you will have to get a vocational certificate from a trade school."
"And then what happens?"
"GO ASK YOUR MOTHER!!"

So he toddles off and I hear him say "Mommy, What happens if I cannot go to a good college?"

Just as I drifted off to sleep I hear Dessy mutter; "You end up married to someone like your Daddy."

To which Josh replied; " Uh oh,  I am going to bed NOW!"

The Looming Storm

I want to deviate from my normal sarcastic drivel and be a little serious.

Right now up and down the eastern seaboard untold thousands of people are in a state of panic. Some are evacuating, others are digging in. Most are scared out of their wits wondering what is in store for them.

I want to encourage all of you to not lose hope. These are not just idle sentiments I am tossing out there.  I can speak from experience on this, as I have lived through a few major storms. Not the hurricanes per se, but the mental and spiritual storms. I am just going to use the hurricane as a metaphor.

First I want to give you a little glimpse into my past. Most of you have no idea about some of it and I apologize if it is unsettling to any of you.

I have battled extreme chronic depression since I was about 17. For many years it seemed that I was largely happy but I would have short periods of sadness or disillusionment. By the time I was 30 the periods of depression had elongated to the point that the feeling of happiness was more of an oasis in the vast desert of my despair.  It was not very long until I was looking for an escape. As it happens with so many of us, be it obvious or hidden, I had lost all hope and was trying to find a reason to continue onward. By spring of 1992, I had lost site of the oasis and no longer had the will to trudge on.

I had the means at hand. I was well armed and my thoughts were racing. I sat on my back porch and watched as the sun started to set. My mood was tranquil and I thought to myself that this was the best I had felt in years, why not go out on a happier note? I deliberated on how to execute the task, and decided that if cut my wrists, I could peacefully succumb while the sun set at the same moment that the life drained out of me. As I got up to go get a tool worthy of such a task, I had a vision. I saw my future, There walking up to a house were 2 small children and my future wife. The wife turned to me and beckoned as if to say, "Will you be coming with us? Or will you take a different course now?" It shook me to the core.

I sought help immediately. I ended up in a locked ward on suicide watch for a while. I spent a couple of years in therapy trying to find clarity. I still have to fight the urges to give in at times.

BUT....

I have learned that there is hope. Real, tangible, measurable, reach out and grab it HOPE.  And you know what? Hope is not just wishing that there will be change. It is a promise that it will change. I have found that what is improbable in most of our lives is that the problems surrounding us will actually kill us. So far in my life, despite my fears and lack of trust, everything has worked out for the good. I am not saying I am complete or even content with my life. It is not bad, but I am certainly not dancing on top of the hill like some scene from the Sound of Music.

What I can tell you is that even the most difficult of situations, the ones that I had initially thought were without hope actually have never been as horrid as I had imagined. I have been destitute. I have been homeless. Believe it or not I spent a year and a half in the back of my Trooper in the  mid 1990's. During that time I managed to stay in college, not fail out of school, did not freeze or starve to death and maintained my current circle of friends. Some of you had no idea I was living like that. It was not the end of the world.

So back to the metaphor. What happens in a storm like a hurricane? For the vast majority of us it creates disarray. We emerge from our refuge to see the mess. We pick up the debris and toss it out. We smell the fresh scent of the freshly washed earth and of the new opportunity. Sometimes we look around and we are standing in utter destruction. But we are STANDING! We may lose our keepsakes, but we still have the memories. We start anew. History tells us that even being lost in the desert for 40 years did not mean the end. We rebuild, we improve, and we find strength we did not know we had. We discover that others watch over us and help fill in the gaps where we are helpless.

For me, I rely heavily on my friends and faith to keep me afloat. In the worst times of my life I was always rewarded by seeing the Light that was there to illuminate the path. No matter how dark it gets either spiritually, mentally or otherwise, I know in my heart that there is One who is keeping me in His care. My life has changed. I still have fears, but I look at what God has done for me and marvel. I have the family for which I had hoped and prayed. I have survived layoffs, furloughs,  and have not lost our house, The kids are healthy. We are fortunate and blessed.

There is no other way for me to attribute that. God has not failed me and I know this adventure is not over.
One passage from the bible comes to mind for me. This is a paraphrase, if you will pardon me on that.

Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them (various enemies or problems), for the LORD your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you."

If any of you need an ear, a prayer or just a good word, let me know. It is my hope that I can help you to be free from  the feeling of despair.