Daddy's In Charge

Tonight as my girls were eating dinner, after two bites Riley declared she was all done eating. This is something she has started doing since Halloween. I attribute this new procedure to her desire to get to the after meal treat as quickly as possible. It is now our rule that unless you eat your meal there is no treat. She hasn't quite got it burned into her memory yet.

So tonight when she made her proclamation that she was done, I told her that she needed to eat her food. She brazenly said "No". Quickly I reminded her that she doesn't say no to me when I'm giving her instruction. Of course, Kinsey had to chime in with her thoughts, which went as follows:

"Riley you know Daddy's in charge of everything. He's even in charge of Mommy. He's like the mayor of our house". Supressing my overwhelming urge to break out in boisterous laughter, I asked Kinsey where she had heard that Daddy was in charge of Mommy. It's my nature to seek out the source of mis-information. Kinsey told me she had read it in a magazine at the hospital when she was born. The magazine article said that "Mommy's were just a little bit lower than Daddy's". My guess is that she's been watching old episodes of All in the Family on Nick at Night.

You just never know what's coming next. Isn't it wonderful?

Is it illegal to cut Grass?

Many of my friends from up North ask me, what's it like living in the South? To answer that I thought I'd post a video of a typical Saturday on the Westside of Jacksonville.




Never a dull moment in the Sunshine State. Y'all come back now.

God's Secret

On the way home from school one day last week, my daughter Kinsey matter of factly informed me that "God made himself". I thought about it for a moment then told her that as far as I knew, God had no beginning. Her response was to just continue looking out the car window.

Several hours later, Kinsey came up to me and asked how could it be that God had no beginning? "That's the million dollar question. Nobody knows the answer to that. Some people think they know but they don't" I said. I went on to tell her that we as humans have a very difficult time understanding that because most everything we experience and see has a beginning and an end. Kinsey thought about it for a minute and then stated that there is somebody who knows the answer and that somebody is God. Then she said "I wished God had told me the answer when I was born, but I guess he wanted to keep it a secret".

Scientists

Last night I was giving Kinsey and Riley a bath. Bath time is approached very business like until hair is washed and bodys are bathed. After that, it's time for fun and games. We have a shower head that can be removed from it's holder and held in your hand. This has made the chore of washing two little girls hair much easier. When I'm not actually holding the shower, I usually give it to Kinsey to be in charge of. She likes to make little "waterfalls" with it.

Last night when Kinsey was making another one of her waterfalls she proclaimed, "Daddy I'm a scientist who knows about waterfalls". She has told me before that she knows a lot about waterfalls but has never framed it in the realm of being a scientist. That got my attention. I said "You're a scientist are you?" She replied "I sure am and Riley is one too because she knows about bugs". I looked at Riley and she nodded her head confirming that it was true. Then Kinsey continued "I bet you never knew your two little girls are scientists". I had to admit, that was news to me.

Just when you think you may be able to guess what they're pondering, they vocalize their thoughts and you realize; the only way to really know what they are thinking is to take the time to listen. I asked Kinsey what she thought a scientist was . She told me it was somebody who tried to learn about stuff. I'd say that's a fair assessment.

Signing off for now, it's time to pick my scientists up from their labs.

Cheeseburger In Paradise

Several weeks ago my daughters and I loaded up in the car on our way to the library. It was a beautiful summerish autumn day. The warm sun, crystal clear blue sky and boating activity on the river put me in a Jimmy Buffet type mood. I slipped into the CD player the Meet Me in Margaritaville album. When it got to The Volcano song, old Jimmy had found himself two new fans. The girls said "play it again Daddy". We heard that song three times in a row on our way to the library. Fortunately it's a fairly short trip. Since then we have enjoyed that song many, many times on the way to many different places. After hearing The Volcano song over and over and over again, I decided to give disc one of the album a try. Cheeseburger in Paradise became an instant hit with my two little girls.

This morning just as we were pulling into Riley's school, she said to me "Daddy, play Cheeseburger and French Fries in Par-dise". I told her it was too late, that we had already arrived at school and needed to go inside. Then came the tears. "I want to hear Cheeseburger and French Fries in Par-dise" she said. Needless to say, we sat in the parking lot and listened to the song. Her world was good again.

Jimmy, if you're reading this, just know you can still make the young girls cry. Add two more devoted Parotheads to the count.

Weather Report

A few days ago our fine city awoke to significant fog rolling in off the St. Johns River. I noticed that my daughter Riley was unusually quiet on our way to school. Normally she is singing or chattering on about something. This day she seemed either tired or contemplative. As we were getting out of the car and walking toward school, she said to me, "Daddy, the clouds are falling to the ground". I love listening to my children. What a fantastic way to start the day.

New Hamster, Vermont and God's House

My girls make me laugh almost every day. Either they use words inappropriately, make words up, mimic my vocabulary (not always a good thing) and mannerisms, etc. This is especially true when my older daughter "instructs" my younger daughter. When Riley (two years) tries to comply with Kinsey's (five years) directives you never know what the result may be. First of all the direction is usually less than clear and is directed to an individual who's cognitive ability is less than fully developed.

The other day Kinsey was very authoritatively expressing to Riley how it's such a long path to Grandma's house (20 hours by car). "You know Riley, it takes a long time to drive to New Hamster" (also known as New Hampshire). Riley just takes it all in as though she completely understands. Her actions were very similar to mine in High School chemistry class. Nodding and acting as though you understand. You indicate through your body langauage that you simply have nothing else to add or question given the thoroughness and mastery of the subject by the instructor. The plan works until you're the one picked out of the crowd and asked a question. So then Kinsey says to Riley, "Riley do you know where New Hamster is?" Riley shakes her head revealing that her earlier body language, previously indicating understanding was nothing but a sham. Soooo.. then Kinsey continues with a tone dripping with an heir of superiority, "Riley, New Hamster is in Vermont". As if to say, you should know such simple facts. I feel obligated to correct my daughter on both counts.

Baby... New Hamster is actually pronounced New Hampshire and Vermont is a State just like New Hampshire and it is right next to it on the map. My daughter thinks about this for a few minutes. Then she asks me..."Daddy, is Grandma's house passed God's House?" I know how I answered, but would love to hear how some of you would have responded. It would be fun to see what various people think. Drop me a line and give me your thoughts. Take care!

Small Things

Remember your first piece of bubble gum? I have often watched my children experience things completely new to them. Frequently, when watching my children, I find myself accessing my childhood memory bank and wondering. I wonder if the pleasure I remember upon first trying new things and the memory I have of it will be similar to my childrens' memories 30 years from now. Some childhood items I recall with particular fondness and happy memories are;

1) My first pony ride - excitement and exhilaration
2) My first Ginger Ale - fresh taste with bubbles
3) Maple Syrup - Sweet nectar and unbelievably delicious
4) Wrestling with my grandmothers dog - great friend
5) Fresh smell of cut grass - Clean and invigorating
6) First visit to Fenway Park - Heaven on earth
7) Glass of grape juice - Sweet, slightly tart, made my taste buds come alive
8) Petting a cow - Soft eyes, coarse stiff hair
9) Driving a go cart - Feeling of freedom,independence
10) Camping in a tent - Looking at the stars, amazement

As an adult, I tend to take the small things in life for granted. However, when I try to view those same things through my childrens eyes coupled with my childhood memories, those small things again become magical and wonderful and the world becomes such a fun place to be. Thank God for the perspective of our children.

Domestic Chores

As a work from home Dad the bulk of the household chores have become my responsibility. I'm not quite sure how it happened but I can guarantee you that my wife knows. That girl is crafty and somehow outflanked me while I was looking the other way. I feel like Ross Perot's old running mate, Admiral Stockdale when he said with a confused look on his face "who am I and what am I doing here?". The Viet Congs infamous Charlie couldn't carry my wife's (uh.. now mine) laundry basket. Let's just put it on the record, and this hurts, she is smarter than me.

Accepting my defeat, I plod on with my assigned chores. There's something to be said for a gracious loser. In my own way I've made the defeat a victory. Now I get to pick the laundry detergent (Mountain Fresh Spring Air Flower Lilac Scent Bloom) and I get to choose the fabric softener too. Yeah, get some of that. Meals?, what I want to cook. No more questioning whether the milk purchased had the latest spoil date stamped on the top or whether it came from the bottom of the grocery store milk cooler. I'm in control of that now. So am I really the loser? You be the judge.

However, taking on the role of domestic maven has provided it's challenges. There are these little tasks that have sub-components that need to be done if you want to accomplish the task properly. Remembering all the while, if it's done improperly my wife knows.

Today was laundry day at my house. I have two little girls ages two and five. That fact alone increases the time required for this chore by two hours. How could that be you might ask. I certainly would have asked that question prior to my defeat. Little girls have lots and lots of little clothing things. Each little clothing thing must be folded. What about little girl underwear. The size difference between 2T and 5T is almost indistinguishable to the naked eye. So then you hunt down the size tag to see which child's pile get this particular pair of little girl panties. I don't know who the Einstein is who manufactures and selects the tag location for small girls underwear, but they need to do a load of laundry and then rethink the whole the damn thing. The tag is about an eigth of the size of the paper fortune in a fortune cookie. Upon washing, the tag rolls up like a caterpillar at being touched. So you get a pair of needlenose pliers to hold the tag taut enough to find the identifying number. Then the printed number is the size of a mustard seed. I had to break out my litle girls pirate telecope to read the thing. I'm still not sure I got them all right. But time was a wasting and I had other chores to do. What would my wife say if I didn't have her dinner ready when she got home? Listen, I've already acknowledged the fact that she can outsmart me. What am I going to look like when she asks me what's for dinner and I timidly break out some weak leftovers? She's going to start asking questions. I'm going to then start stammering about little girls panty tags? She'd probably Baker Act me.

In the kitchen I can hold my own and cooking is fun for me. I've got the skills of Hop Sing on Bonanza with the temperment of Gordon Ramsay. Not only is my cooking critiqued every night, but so are the ingredients I choose to use. Last night was Fajita night. I'm chopping up the onions and green bell peppers. It's all just starting to saute' and filling the air with an aroma I found to be pleasent. My five year old pulls herself away from Dragon Tales long enough to wander in the kitchen. She innocently makes the statement, "that smells nasty". Trying to supress a Gordon Ramsayesque response, I do my best Rachel Ray, "You're goin' to love it". She wasn't convinced. So when it came time to eat, I pulled a trick out of my wife's playbook. Disguising the chicken, peppers and onions by wrapping them in the tortilla so the filling couldn't be seen. She took one bite and had found her bliss. Expressing my disbelief at how much she liked it she said "don't know what else to say Daddy. How can I thank you?" Now, tell me... did I get outflanked?

Redneck Cheerleader

Alicia and I consider each birthday our children celebrate to be an occassion of thankfulness for the lives that we have been entrusted with. Our usual tradition has been to have a birthday celebration with our childrens friends and our friends. Sometimes the announced hour of the birthday party's ending comes and goes and we find our friends still here.

After the festivities of the last birthday party had concluded, we began a social gathering for the remaining adults. The gifts that had been bestowed upon my daughter that day were still out and our friends decided they wanted to see them. Grown ups like to have fun too. So the bubble machines were blowing bubbles and the horns were being tooted aloud. Then we noticed this fella over in the corner of the yard checking out the princess dresses and cheerleading outfits.

As the old cliche' states, sometimes a picture is worth a thousand words.

It struck us! We could use this guy as "after birthday party hours" entertainment. We bought him a princess outfit, a cowgirl suit, court jester uniform, Whinne the pooh shorts and a bikini. If you would like to hire him for your party, please e-mail me. So far revenue earned from this venture is... uuhh.. zero. But you've got to start somewhere. He's a real go getter and will work hard for tips. Call me.

Summer Time Memories

When I was a kid growing up in southern Vermont my summers were filled with weeding gardens, bailing hay and cutting firewood. Excluding the occassional tomato fight that would breakout in the two acre garden, it was pretty much a non-event. It was however my life. Oh.... how my childrens' summers are so dramatically different.

Kinsey, my five year old goes to summer camp that has every activity that I could only dream of as a kid. Her days are filled with Chuck E Cheese, science fairs, movies (at a real theatre), pony rides, swimming pools, baseball games, roller skating, bowling, steamboat cruises, bouncy houses, ice skating, minitaure golf, water parks, Build A Bear, Ollie Koala's, semi-pro baseball games, etc..... The somewhat disappointing aspect of all this is that some days she comes home and has found her day boring. I'm thinking, weed a garden in 90 degree heat for five hours straight and then talk to me about boring. Her experience of "boring" is no where close to mine. Of course, with that said, my experience of boring is, I'm sure, not what my parents experience was. Laboring for five hours in the hot sun was childs play compared to my Dad's summertime experiences. He would say " you still had a good five hours to play". He really thought we as children were living on easy street.

It's a bit odd and amusing to me. When I look back now on those days of drudgery cutting wood, mowing lawns and weeding gardens those memories now (thirty five years later) verge on Rockwellesque. It was pure Americana that I lived and breathed every day. Reflecting back on those summertime childhood memories, I feel only joy and peace. It was a simple, pure way of life.

In our constantly changing world, I believe that my daughters will look back on their summer vacation in a similar way. It's not so much the activity of each day. It's the unconditional love expressed that makes it so wonderful. I knew that no matter what the day held, as "boring" as the chore that day might be, at the end of the day I could go to our house, have a hearty meal with my family and bask in the warmth of love and enjoy the security of home. That was the one thing that made every day so completely wonderful. Who needs Disney when you have that?

At the end of this month, Alicia and I will take our daughters Kinsey and Riley on a weeks long vacation to Daytona Beach. I'm looking forward to every day, every minute of our family experience. But I know that the real joy of childhood is not in an upscale resort (although that is loads of fun). The real joy of childhod is knowing that you are loved, that you will always have an unyielding proponent for you no matter what. I had that, my children have that. We are so, so , so fortunate. Have a great summer vacation.

The miracle cure

"Daddy I've got a boo boo" How many times have dads and moms around the world heard this? It made me stop and wonder where and how the term boo boo ever originated. I mean Boo Boo seems like an appropriate name for Yogi Bear's sidekick. It just somehow fits. But boo boo for a bleeding contusion? I understand "owey". I could even accept "hurty boo" or "booh hooh". I don't get boo boo. But with that said, I'm not in the business of challenging possibly centuries of the terms usage. What I am fairly sure of is that since the 1920's there has been this miracle cure for boo boos, we know it as the Band Aid.

According to the Band Aid web site, the product was introduced in 1920. The first Band Aid was three inches wide and eighteen inches long. They only sold $3,000 worth of them their first year. I wonder why... "Dude I said I needed to cover this scratch not be mummified". Apparently there have been significant modifications since the early days. Because today they are a must have commodity for any household with kids. Compared to the Band Aid Brand, Louis Pasteur looks like the Barney Fife of childhood ailment cures.

If either one of my girls gets the teeniest, tiniest little scrape or scratch, their first course of action is to alert either me or my wife about it. They'll ease on up or sometimes coming running up like their being attacked by a swarm of killer bees and say "Daddy I've got a boo boo". Of course I respond by inquiring as to where the boo boo is physically located on their person. The pointing then begins. "It's right here". Sometimes I can see the faint outline of a scratch. Other times I can see only clear, beautifully complected childhood skin. I'm pretty sure that even if I had the full personal use of the Hubble Space Telescope coupled with an MRI scan to examine them, I'd still find nothing. The fact of the matter is that whether the injury is real or perceived, in my house 9 times out of 10 the Band Aid is the preferred antidote by both parent and child.

Band Aid knows what they're doing to generate sales. Little kids love stickers. My girls would rather have a cool shiny sticker than a ten dollar bill (we've got training to do on the whole value of money thing). So Band Aid has created all sorts of glitzy character bandages. The one staple Band Aid we must have is Dora the Explorer. When my little girls need a bandage and you give them a Dora bandage everything is right in their world. Conversely, if we happen to have run out of Dora Band Aids and you try to use one of those pale skin colored plain Band Aids that look like they're intended for a corpse, it still works but it's not the same. It's kind of like winning the lottery and then finding out you've got to split the winnings with your ex-wife. You're still up but now you've got mixed emotions. It feels good and disappointing at the same time. To get the true adrenalin rush of the reward, you've got to have Dora Band Aids.

Remember the old Band Aid jingle "I'm stuck on Band Aids cause Band Aids stuck on me". Now that's a classic. The problem was that back then Band Aids were stuck on you. Really stuck on you. I remember what it was like to pull one of those things off.... see below
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Back in the seventies the Band Aid would stop the bleeding but I almost would prefer to lose a pint of blood or give up a limb than to have to tear one of those things off. The Band Aid sure has come a long way. For our household they are truly the miracle cure and have saved us plenty of crying and whimpering. Rock on Band Aid Brand!

Catholics in the House!

For the past two years my five year old daughter has attended a Catholic school. I'm not Catholic, my wife is not Catholic, in fact before sending our daughter to that school, we didn't even know one Catholic person. We had heard they were around and had even seen evidence of it via buildings a/k/a churches. For all practical purposes we were completely Cathologically challenged. We chose to send our daughter there because:

1. It was close to our home
2. We like the uniforms
3. The Priest speaks with a lovely Irish accent
4. Thought the steeple on the church was a nice touch
5. Spanish style architecture reminded daughter of Dora the Explorer
6. It was close to our home

After the decision was made, we had to some way figure out how to navigate through this new world. As coincidence would have it, all of my daughters new found friends had parents too. It's strange how your social circle increases exponentially in direct relationship to the number of friends your child has. These parents befriended us and helped us understand to some degree how the whole thing works. We'd get a note in my daughters backpack stating that "Crowning Day" was happening, so take the appropriate action. Crowning Day? What the.... I'd tell the wife "we better call Sally's parents to see what we need to do". There have been so many phone calls made the itemized monthly phone bill is now delivered by Fedex Freight Solutions. I don't think they ever identified what caused Tom Hanks plane in the movie Castaway to go down, but it very well could have been our phone bill. From the Our Fathers to the beads and statues it's all very foreign. But I like it. You learn something new almost every day. As an example, heretofore for me a hail mary has always been a football play ala 1984 Doug Flutie playing for Boston College against Miami. That my friends was a Hail Mary. At my daughters school it has something to do with like saying hello to Mary. I'm not sure what it means there, but I know they're not talking about football.

As part of our initiation into the system, my wife and some other mothers from my daughters school started a monthly dinner club type thing. The first one was a bit weird and awkward, second one better, third one there was beer so it's been all gravy since then. The host couple decides what to have, cooks the meal and basically is just a good host. The first meal we hosted was awesome. Good chatter about this that and the other. It was Halloween time so we had a little Jack O' Lantern carving contest. It was golden. Man we were riding high after the party saying to ourselves how all of our guests enjoyed themselves. The challenge is... how do you sustain that positive energy and interaction the next time we hosted. Now here is where my genius kicks in. We strategically manipulated the next hosting time to coincide with St. Patty's day. Now we had a theme with so many good food options it was ridiculous. I got to work preparing a gorgeous corn beef and cabbage, an Irish Stout Stew (this is the gold standard of stews) and for the kids a home made macaroni and cheese. I was ready and looking forward to the evening. Guests started showing up. From the start something seemed awry with the facial expressions and off kilter glances between the visiting moms and dads. One of the Moms actually showed up just to tell us that their entire family had suddenly become ill. Then the final couple shows up carrying a cheese pizza. I asked them "what's up with the pizza"? These people are so nice they were trying to be as diplomatic as possible.... Charlie's Mom says it's Friday night and it's Lent. I said "I didn't lend anything to anybody"... I didn't get it.... then the light bulb went off, somebody had lent her the pizza and she couldn't say no. Needless to say, my family ate stew and several variations of corn beef for the next week. Sometimes it's unwise to stray too far out of your knowledge zone.

All joking aside, our experience with the Catholic church has been completely positive. We've met some unbelievably nice people who we now consider dear friends. I'm still not Catholic and almost surely never will be. From now on when one of these friends comes over for dinner I'm going to announce their arrival by proclaiming "Catholics in the house!" After that dinner stunt I'm not sure I want to know how they would proclaim my arrival.

Ricky and Dakota

Over the past several months we have had a uninvited daily visitor to our backyard. The dude crawls over our fence saunters across the lawn and helps himself to whatever he wants. He does this with complete disregard for common courtesy, never mind the fact that he's trespassing. My Baby Momma and I are concerned. Being a complete stranger, we tagged this guy with the name of Ricky... Ricky the Racoon.

Ricky has found himself a little honey hole of food from our dog Dakota's Autodine feeder. I have known Dakota longer and possibly spent more on him than any other member of our family. He and I have memories that go back to our bachelor days. No one else in the house shares these memories nor would we want them to. I've always told him (usually while drinking beers together) some day he would earn his keep. The day would come where the investment would pay off. Dakota would just look back at me with a steely resolve as if to say "I got your back brother". Now that day has come and he's like the Maytag Repairman. He sat around for so long without any calls he's gotten fat and lazy and nobody is buying what he's selling. The big oaf just lays with his head between his paws and watches Ricky devour his food. Not a problem... for the last 12 years there always been plenty. I heard the boss man telling the little ones just the other day that it was important to share. Hey what's a few kibbles between mammals?

All the while my little girls love to watch Ricky. For some reason my two year old usually spots him first. Excited chirps of "Wicky here, Wicky here" set us into alert condition two. This requires one adult to maintain a defensive position on the back deck perimeter. A shovel or some other object that can inflict blunt force trauma to the head is required. As long as Ricky keeps his distance, we agreed to live in peaceful co-existence. That was until my brother-in-law came over about a week ago.

Brother in Law brought with him a friend of his. My Brother in Law is pretty much fearless and has no reservation about chasing a rattlesnake down a river (I've seen him do it). He comes up with this genius plan of surrounding Ricky and somehow trapping him (the details weren't all that detailed). Well, us other two guys aren't going to look like girly men so we say "yeah... let's do it". I've got to give bro in law props though, his plan would have worked. The problem wasn't the plan, it was the execution of the plan. Once Ricky identified that he was being surrounded and that the walls were closing in he started to make his Houdini like moves. First running at me like an animal in strict survival mode. I yelled (some onlookers have described it as a shrill scream) to scare Ricky... yeah I wanted to scare him into submission. Well he turned and ran at bro in laws friend. That dude jumped out of the way so high and so fast he looked like the FTD man leaping to deliver a dozen roses. Ricky escaped through a hole under the fence. I've got to give it to Ricky though. He was smart enough to not run at the one guy who might have tried to catch him.

All the while Dakota laid there and watched. He had a look on his face as if to say, "These guys are a joke. What kind of half baked plan was that? If I didn't have this here thyroid condition I would have tracked that SOB down and showed him what a good chewin on is". We've only seen Ricky once since the event and my daughters keep asking me where he is. Somehow they know what rake I was holding when Ricky made his run at me. My daughter Kinsey spotted the rake the other day and asked me if that was the rake I scared Ricky off with. I like her version of what happened. It's good to be Dad who they believe to be fearless.

My Girls Dad

As any parent can tell you (and probably will at some point), rasing kids is an experience. A definition of experience is "something that happens to somebody". Occasionally my girls will have me truly believe that were my hair on fire while sipping a molotov cocktail it would be a more pleasant something than dealing with their "crises". The level of anxiety that Capt. Joseph Hazlewood felt while running the Exxon Valdez ashore is mild in comparison to my two year old when she drops her eating utensil on the ground. Then there is Kinsey, my five year old daughter. She has her blanky that is still a great comfort to her. I think if everyone had a blanky like hers there would be a lot less need for Paxil, Lexapro and a host of other mind altering drugs. However, the physical connection is very real and very strong. See catastrophe in Websters for an idea of what happens when she loses it. Just to top off the day with a generous dollop of frustration, the blanky's abscence is usually discovered at bedtime. Let the great blanky hunt begin....at 8:30 PM.

With all of that said, almost every day my two girls make me laugh, make me proud and make me so happy to be their dad. The refreshing perspective they bring to a day by inquiring, misusing words, telling a joke that makes no sense and laughing is simply awesome. The intent of this blog is to share some of these weekly joys and smiles with others. Sometimes it will be my perspective on being their Dad and other days it will be my girls perspective on things in this world.

I'm looking forward to memorializing here thoughts and moments that otherwise would be forgotten. Additionally, sharing the somethings that happen to this somebody will be fun. See you soon.

Brian