I try hard to be like Nephi, and I love to “liken the scriptures” unto myself (1 Nephi 19:23). There is a journey to discipleship and the “straight and narrow path” isn’t just a clever nickname. The narrowness of the way means that each of us are going to go past some common landmarks on our path to discipleship, and when we read the stories in the Bible and the Book of Mormon, we can see the prophets whom we love go through the same kinds of trials and tribulations that we do. It’s helpful to me to know that guys like Nephi had to fight some of the same battles I am fighting.
1 Nephi 2:16 is a current favorite scripture of mine because Nephi says that when he prayed, the Lord “did soften my heart…wherefore I did not rebel against him [Lehi] like unto my brothers.”
That word; soften. It tells me something about Nephi. He wasn’t all that pleased to be dropping everything he had to start slogging off into the wilderness. But once he got the confirmation from the Lord, he did what he was told. It was a small first step for him, and one that prepared him for a bigger leap of faith later. His testimony got stronger, and it’s not long after this that the Lord asks him to go back to Jerusalem.
I’ll bet he wasn’t all that keen on this idea, either, but that is when he issues his famous “I will go and do” declaration that every primary child knows by heart. He had to start with little steps and trust. Then he takes a bigger step, and trusts some more. Then just when he figures he’s got a grip on this whole “follow the Spirit” thing, he comes to a real doozey of a step.
Nephi has been obedient, and before the words of his promise to “go and do” are out of his mouth, he gets tested with a string of faith building, perseverance testing circumstances.
Go get the brass plates. Laban says no.
Go try to buy the brass plates. Laban says, I’m gonna kill you.
Go get the brass plates anyway. His brothers turn on him and say THEY are gonna kill him.
At what point do you figure Nephi wanted to look at the sky and say, “Come on! Where are we going with this? ” He had to be wondering why the Lord was putting him through so many trials.
Couldn’t the Lord have struck Laban dumb, like Korihor, and then let Nephi take the plates the first time they asked? For that matter, couldn’t the Lord have provided a way for Lehi to go get them BEFORE they even left Jerusalem?
Of course he could, but He knew that Nephi needed these little trials of faith to prepare him for the really big jumps that were coming up.
It must have been tough to go back to Laban’s house. But Nephi had learned to trust the voice of the Spirit when it came to him. “I was led by the Spirit, not knowing beforehand the things which I should do” (1 Nephi 4:6). That is not a particularly comfortable position to be in, not knowing what the Lord has in mind for you to do, but running toward it anyway.
And the Spirit leads Nephi right up to the figurative edge of a big, deep, bottomless cliff that is filled with fog and says to the boy, “Jump”.
Kill Laban and take the plates.
And this is where Nephi goes from just having a testimony to being a Disciple. Instead of saying “I don’t kill anybody, no way, no how”, he trusts the Spirit that he recognizes from that day weeks or months before when his heart was softened and he got his testimony.
He’s not all that happy about it, though. “I shrunk and would that I might not slay him.”
In effect, Nephi says, “That ain’t what you taught me in Sunday School!”
The Spirit then explains to Nephi that there are circumstances that require him to do this difficult thing, one that he never thought he’d be asked to do. And the reason was the spiritual well-being of his family; their need for spiritual nourishment versus Laban’s repeated refusal to obey the commandments of God.
It had to be this way, even though Nephi didn’t like it, the Lord didn’t like it, and Laban sure as heck didn’t like it.
And it is my opinion that the reason Nephi was able to jump into the abyss and do the things that were asked of him was because he had learned to hear and trust the Lord when he was asked to do little things, like leave home. His trust grew to the point that when the Lord asked him to do one of the things that he really, really didn’t want to, his faith and trust saved him from damnation.
Now I tell this, not because I want to hold an online Sunday School class, or preach a sermon. I tell it because the Boss and I got a chance to relate to Nephi in the early part of 2005.
As I explained in Part 1, work had been going badly and I was coming to the realization that I needed a change. I had mixed feelings about it, because I was only about one small raise away from letting the Boss quit her job altogether and be a stay at home Mom, which is all she has ever wanted.
Part, but not all, of why I wanted to leave was that when I went in for my wage review that January I was told I was doing a great job, but there would be no raise for me anyway. It meant the Boss wasn't going to be able to quit, and it shook my faith in just how far ambition and want-to was going to be able to take me. It felt like a kick in the face, and combined with the other things that were going on, I started looking for a tin beak.
The more I looked at the situation, the more convinced I became that I needed a change. The more I thought about change, the more I realized that one warehouse job is pretty much like the next. The day I asked my shop buddy for a tin beak was the day it dawned on me that the only way I was ever going to get out of the mess I was in was to go back to school.
We fasted, prayed, went to the Temple, and waited for an answer. Almost immediately, the Boss had a chance at a promotion and a big time raise. We prayed about that, and the Spirit led us right up to the edge of a big, deep, bottomless cliff that was filled with fog and says to us, “Jump”.
Let the Boss take the promotion and support the family, while you go back to school.
And our response? “That ain’t what you taught us in Sunday School!”
Just like Nephi, though, we got an explanation. The reason was the spiritual well-being of our family; our need for the spiritual and temporal nourishment that can only be provided by a full time mom versus the impossibility of this blessing coming to pass as long as I was minus a college degree. It had to be this way for me to get one, even though I didn’t like it, the Lord didn’t like it, and the Boss sure as heck didn’t like it.
To my mind, it was a whole lot like getting asked to slay Laban. In fact, “Slaying Laban” was nearly the title of this blog, but I didn’t think anyone would get the joke. Here was the Lord asking us (and in particular, the Boss) to do the one thing we absolutely, positively did not want to do.
Who knew the consequences of 1997 would come back to bite me nearly a decade down the road? (I mean other than my Father, Father-in-law, and pretty much every other responsible adult who knew me then?)
Just like Nephi, we weren’t all that happy to drop all that we had to go slogging off into an unknown wilderness just because the Lord said so. But we did what we had learned to do when the leap of faith wasn’t quite so steep.
We jumped.
I quit.
Surely, underneath all this fog, the Lord had provided a parachute, a trampoline, a big splashdown pool…something. Maybe it was going to be like Indiana Jones, and we’d step down onto a camouflaged pathway a foot and a half below the edge.
Yeah.
Riiighhhtt!
Next up: Part 3 Are You a Tank?
Saturday, December 19, 2009
Friday, December 18, 2009
History of the Blog, Part 1: The Begining of the End
I have no runts requiring my attention today. Or tomorrow. And next week only on Monday. With the likelihood of mishap, disaster, hilarity, or destruction significantly reduced by the presence of the Boss and or Beak, I might have struggled for interesting post materials. Then this morning the thought occurred to me that I have not yet recorded the lengthy and boring history of how we came to be at the place we are. If something else comes up that is post worthy, I'll post it, otherwise, the next little while will deal with how I came to be Fatdaddy ("He ate and ate and ate" says the Boss. Not exactly what I meant).
I am not sure if you will find any of this interesting, entertaining or unworthy of your time. You may get offended and if so, I apologize. As I say in church all the time, "If you are offended by something I say, I am deeply sorry. I meant to offend someone else and you just happened to catch some of the shrapnel."
I had quit school around '97, either right before or right after the Eldest was born. I didn't decide to quit; class just became less and less of a priority until I told the Boss it didn't make sense to pay tuition for classes that I wasn't attending anyway. Not my most intelligent decision ever, and that is saying something for me.
I admit now that I got lazy (Me?!! Really?!!)and since I still had no idea what I wanted to be when I grew up, I ignored my father, father-in-law, and pretty much everyone else I knew and quit. I was making big money stocking groceries on store shelves, man. I was cool. It was all under control.
This meant that I spent a lot of time in grocery warehouses and on forklifts. Most of them were really dangerous jobs. Not so much physically dangerous (I guess they kind of were), but dangerous in that I was afraid to leave them. Even when they sucked and I was getting hosed, I couldn't walk away because anywhere I went, I was not going to be starting over in the same salary ballpark. I knew it and they knew it.
When this understanding became mutual between us life would inevitably get worse for me, not them. I had no marketable skills and no education to speak of. What I did have was a wife and daughter who needed to be provided for. We started praying and I went to the Bishop to get a referral to LDS Employment.
Within a week, I found a job as a shipper/receiver/delivery person in a small family owned business. It was heaven. I liked the people I worked with, I was good at what I was doing and the hours and benefits were the best I'd ever had. Pay was better than what I had been getting from the grocery jerks and I got treated with respect. People were happy to teach me about the industry and I learned a lot. It was about this time that I started to see how ready and willing the Lord was to guide me into good things if I was willing to trust him.
It didn't take a genius to see that folks at that place were doing alright financially, and there was money to be made for someone with a little gumption and a foot in the door. In spite of my lack of education, I did have my foot in the door.
The Boss had been hanging around at her current employer working whatever hours she wanted to; basically for goof off money. We put a couple of bucks away for a rainy day and could pay for everything we needed and most of what we wanted. Moe joined the family, and we bought a house in June of 2002. In August we loaded the girls into a minivan and left on the vacation of a lifetime. We didn't tell them we were going to Disneyland until we drove past the front gate in Anaheim. They freaked.
Somewhere between West Jordan and Point of the Mountain, we told them that they were going to be getting a new brother or sister in April. So I guess Puzilla has been to Disneyland, but only in the most metaphorical sense. We went to Sea World and ate dinner with Shamu, got to go behind the scenes at the penguin exhibit and spent three solid days tearing through Disneyland like a hurricane. It was the one of the happiest times in my life.
Back at work, things had been moving forward and I was given a chance to work as a salesman for the repair department and had gotten a couple of very nice raises. I didn't see any reason that I wouldn't turn that good job into a great career, but it wasn't to be. Peff was born in October of 04 and shortly thereafter things started going south.
I won't detail the specifics, but over a very short period of time, my job satisfaction went downhill in a hurry and I suppose that the feeling must have been mutual. At the time I was a little bitter about it, but looking back, I know it had to be. There were reasons.
My Grandfather had been a very successful salesman in a similar industry, and I actually met many people who knew him and had done business with him. As I was named after him, I was frequently asked if I was any relation to him. I am still proud to say that I am.
I once heard Grandpa tell the story of how he came to have his own business. As I remember the story, he had spent a standout career as a salesman and manager of a good sized company. As he got a little closer to retirement, they brought in someone younger and less experienced to, in not so many words, become his boss. Adding insult to injury, they then asked him to train the man.
To quote Grandpa, "I told those fellows that I'd rather strap on a tin beak and go pick S#!@ with the chickens than do that. Then I walked out the door and started my own thing."
I know it wasn't as simple as that, but the story loses some of the humor if you know how hard he had to work and how much he put on the line and how gutsy he and grandma had to be to even try it.
And you really had to hear Grandpa tell it to get the the most out of the gallows humor. He had a real talent for taking bad turns and tough experiences and making them into something worth laughing about. He laughed at stuff that would have killed mere mortals. NOBODY tells stories like Grandpa did. I miss him.
And one day, when I had a particularly bad day at work, I found myself asking one of the shop guys to make a tin beak for me. It was time for a change.
Next up: Part 2 Jumping Off a Cliff
I am not sure if you will find any of this interesting, entertaining or unworthy of your time. You may get offended and if so, I apologize. As I say in church all the time, "If you are offended by something I say, I am deeply sorry. I meant to offend someone else and you just happened to catch some of the shrapnel."
I had quit school around '97, either right before or right after the Eldest was born. I didn't decide to quit; class just became less and less of a priority until I told the Boss it didn't make sense to pay tuition for classes that I wasn't attending anyway. Not my most intelligent decision ever, and that is saying something for me.
I admit now that I got lazy (Me?!! Really?!!)and since I still had no idea what I wanted to be when I grew up, I ignored my father, father-in-law, and pretty much everyone else I knew and quit. I was making big money stocking groceries on store shelves, man. I was cool. It was all under control.
This meant that I spent a lot of time in grocery warehouses and on forklifts. Most of them were really dangerous jobs. Not so much physically dangerous (I guess they kind of were), but dangerous in that I was afraid to leave them. Even when they sucked and I was getting hosed, I couldn't walk away because anywhere I went, I was not going to be starting over in the same salary ballpark. I knew it and they knew it.
When this understanding became mutual between us life would inevitably get worse for me, not them. I had no marketable skills and no education to speak of. What I did have was a wife and daughter who needed to be provided for. We started praying and I went to the Bishop to get a referral to LDS Employment.
Within a week, I found a job as a shipper/receiver/delivery person in a small family owned business. It was heaven. I liked the people I worked with, I was good at what I was doing and the hours and benefits were the best I'd ever had. Pay was better than what I had been getting from the grocery jerks and I got treated with respect. People were happy to teach me about the industry and I learned a lot. It was about this time that I started to see how ready and willing the Lord was to guide me into good things if I was willing to trust him.
It didn't take a genius to see that folks at that place were doing alright financially, and there was money to be made for someone with a little gumption and a foot in the door. In spite of my lack of education, I did have my foot in the door.
The Boss had been hanging around at her current employer working whatever hours she wanted to; basically for goof off money. We put a couple of bucks away for a rainy day and could pay for everything we needed and most of what we wanted. Moe joined the family, and we bought a house in June of 2002. In August we loaded the girls into a minivan and left on the vacation of a lifetime. We didn't tell them we were going to Disneyland until we drove past the front gate in Anaheim. They freaked.
Somewhere between West Jordan and Point of the Mountain, we told them that they were going to be getting a new brother or sister in April. So I guess Puzilla has been to Disneyland, but only in the most metaphorical sense. We went to Sea World and ate dinner with Shamu, got to go behind the scenes at the penguin exhibit and spent three solid days tearing through Disneyland like a hurricane. It was the one of the happiest times in my life.
Back at work, things had been moving forward and I was given a chance to work as a salesman for the repair department and had gotten a couple of very nice raises. I didn't see any reason that I wouldn't turn that good job into a great career, but it wasn't to be. Peff was born in October of 04 and shortly thereafter things started going south.
I won't detail the specifics, but over a very short period of time, my job satisfaction went downhill in a hurry and I suppose that the feeling must have been mutual. At the time I was a little bitter about it, but looking back, I know it had to be. There were reasons.
My Grandfather had been a very successful salesman in a similar industry, and I actually met many people who knew him and had done business with him. As I was named after him, I was frequently asked if I was any relation to him. I am still proud to say that I am.
I once heard Grandpa tell the story of how he came to have his own business. As I remember the story, he had spent a standout career as a salesman and manager of a good sized company. As he got a little closer to retirement, they brought in someone younger and less experienced to, in not so many words, become his boss. Adding insult to injury, they then asked him to train the man.
To quote Grandpa, "I told those fellows that I'd rather strap on a tin beak and go pick S#!@ with the chickens than do that. Then I walked out the door and started my own thing."
I know it wasn't as simple as that, but the story loses some of the humor if you know how hard he had to work and how much he put on the line and how gutsy he and grandma had to be to even try it.
And you really had to hear Grandpa tell it to get the the most out of the gallows humor. He had a real talent for taking bad turns and tough experiences and making them into something worth laughing about. He laughed at stuff that would have killed mere mortals. NOBODY tells stories like Grandpa did. I miss him.
And one day, when I had a particularly bad day at work, I found myself asking one of the shop guys to make a tin beak for me. It was time for a change.
Next up: Part 2 Jumping Off a Cliff
Please Observe the Holiday
For those of you who live in caves or p.o.w camps or a religious commune in the Western Utah Desert, I offer the following Public Service Announcement. Today is national "Answer the Phone Like Buddy the Elf" day.
I know that all of you have been waiting since Thanksgiving for your chance to pick up the phone and say "Buddy the Elf, what's your favorite color?".
I also know that many of you plan to carry the celebration over to dinnertime when a square meal with each of the four food groups will be served. Candy, Candy canes, Candy corns, and Syrup. So be sure to pour maple syrup on your spaghetti, and wash it down with a coke. Belching is optional.
Remember, "The best way to spread some Christmas cheer is singing loud for all to hear!"
Merry Christmas!
I know that all of you have been waiting since Thanksgiving for your chance to pick up the phone and say "Buddy the Elf, what's your favorite color?".
I also know that many of you plan to carry the celebration over to dinnertime when a square meal with each of the four food groups will be served. Candy, Candy canes, Candy corns, and Syrup. So be sure to pour maple syrup on your spaghetti, and wash it down with a coke. Belching is optional.
Remember, "The best way to spread some Christmas cheer is singing loud for all to hear!"
Merry Christmas!
And the Angel goes to...
You may have noticed that I have taken down the Christmas movie polls, and just for posterity, I will record the winners here now. None of this should be new to you.
Best Comedy (Other than Christmas Story)
A tie! Elf and Tim Allen's The Santa Claus both got five votes with Christmas Vacation trailing by one. I was personally disappointed that Scrooged, a Bill Murray classic, did not do a little better. If you haven't seen it yet, it's usually in the $5 bin at walmart this time of year. It does have a few slightly off color gags and scary/gross out moments so watch it before you show it to the runts, but I think it is hilarious.
Best Cartoon (Other than the Grinch)
Charlie Brown Christmas took this one going away. I seem to remember the stop-motion Rudolph and Frosty shows being a lot cooler when I was young, perhaps they have not aged as well as Charlie Brown. Or maybe I'm just a little more calloused than I used to be.
Best Old School (Other than It's a Wonderful Life)
Biggest boat race in the bunch. White Christmas took 11 votes, nothing else got more than two. If you haven't seen the Alister Sim version of A Christmas Carol, you need to. It is hands down a hundred times better than the George C Scott version (all I ever see is Patton talking about the "pile of goo that a moment before was your best friend's face..." That can be distracting when watching a Christmas show!). This was a can't miss category, they were all good.
Best Action (Other than Die Hard)
Die Hard. Unanimous, though some of you didn't vote for this cinematic masterpiece. All I want to know is if John McClain fought Mike Ditka, could the winner beat Chuck Norris?
And the Heavyweights
A minor upset here as the Grinch mustered just enough votes to take down It's a Wonderful Life. How can you go wrong? I say pop 'em both in and have a double feature with the kids.
Heck, you still got a week. I know you've all got wrapping and sewing and baking to do between now and the big day, start at the top and watch all of 'em. Watch with your kids and you can count it as family home evening!!!
More to come,
Merry Christmas!
Best Comedy (Other than Christmas Story)
A tie! Elf and Tim Allen's The Santa Claus both got five votes with Christmas Vacation trailing by one. I was personally disappointed that Scrooged, a Bill Murray classic, did not do a little better. If you haven't seen it yet, it's usually in the $5 bin at walmart this time of year. It does have a few slightly off color gags and scary/gross out moments so watch it before you show it to the runts, but I think it is hilarious.
Best Cartoon (Other than the Grinch)
Charlie Brown Christmas took this one going away. I seem to remember the stop-motion Rudolph and Frosty shows being a lot cooler when I was young, perhaps they have not aged as well as Charlie Brown. Or maybe I'm just a little more calloused than I used to be.
Best Old School (Other than It's a Wonderful Life)
Biggest boat race in the bunch. White Christmas took 11 votes, nothing else got more than two. If you haven't seen the Alister Sim version of A Christmas Carol, you need to. It is hands down a hundred times better than the George C Scott version (all I ever see is Patton talking about the "pile of goo that a moment before was your best friend's face..." That can be distracting when watching a Christmas show!). This was a can't miss category, they were all good.
Best Action (Other than Die Hard)
Die Hard. Unanimous, though some of you didn't vote for this cinematic masterpiece. All I want to know is if John McClain fought Mike Ditka, could the winner beat Chuck Norris?
And the Heavyweights
A minor upset here as the Grinch mustered just enough votes to take down It's a Wonderful Life. How can you go wrong? I say pop 'em both in and have a double feature with the kids.
Heck, you still got a week. I know you've all got wrapping and sewing and baking to do between now and the big day, start at the top and watch all of 'em. Watch with your kids and you can count it as family home evening!!!
More to come,
Merry Christmas!
Thursday, December 17, 2009
Now what?
I saw this week in the paper where Bronco Mendenhall said that he went to Oregon State just so he could play against BYU, and after he beat them his only thought was "Now what?"
That's kind of where I am this morning. I've spent the better part of the last day wondering if I ought to hang up my keyboard now and retire. How am I ever going to beat that post? I'm still laughing and it happened to me. There was this kind of mental disconnect while it was happening that made it seem like out-of-body fiction and that detachment got cemented in my mind when I wrote it down. I really did freeze when Peff asked me that question; and even after I figured out what he was actually talking about it took me about thirty seconds to start laughing. The man who has something to say about everything found himself stunned speechless.
It was not a sensation I expect to become accustomed to.
But the question remains, "Now what?" I mean, what if that post is my "Ender's Game" and nothing I ever write will be able to compete with it? I don't want to be JD Salinger, afraid that another story might mess up the legacy of my Holden Caulfield.
"Gosh, that last post was OK, Fatdaddy, but it was no 'Dad Has Two Heart Attacks'."
I don't think I can take that kind of rejection, McFly. But when I brought this up to a couple of people yesterday, I got the same response from both of them.
"Are you nuts? You don't want to ask that question, because you know that these kids will find a way to top that, and when they do, you will pay for it. It will probably hurt. A lot."
And I suppose they are right. I started this blog to document what I considered to be the most destructive force in the known universe and these little monkeys have yet to ascend to the status of a Black Hole. But I can't underestimate their capability to do so. Please be patient, though. It might take a while to get back to yesterday's level.
In the meantime, I posted some pics of yesterday's gingerbread house project. Uncle C decided to spend the day with Reaggers and Bub, so it was just Peff, Squizzles and Motor. I think they did a fine job. The "Christmas Lights" running on the front and back eaves are Motor's idea, and I think they turned out all right.
Merry Christmas!
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Dad Has Two Heart Attacks, Or, Why Kids Shouldn't Watch "SuperWhy"
That's it, the experiment is over, I throw in the towel. Dads are simply not emotionally equipped to deal with the duties of motherhood. Call me a misogynistic S.O.B.; call me a cave-man, knuckle-dragging, hair-pulling chauvinist pig. I don't care.
Men CANNOT be the primary caregivers for children over any lengthy period of time. We simply lack the magic. And the iron will.
Let me explain.
It's Wednesday today, and that means baking. I'm planning on gingerbread houses from a cheap kit we got at walmart. Since Uncle C has the day off for bereavement time, I told him to sleep in and then bring the kids over anyway and take a little time off for himself this afternoon. Motor usually comes over around 9:30 or 10.
Well I figured that this meant once I got the Boss and the girls shipped off, I could go down and grab a quick shower before the usual Wednesday chaos erupted. Now I can't leave Squizzles with Peff, especially when Peff is "Bunny hunting" (He loves to play "Raving Rabbids" on the XBOX). So I grab Squizzle and tell Peff that I'll be in the shower should Uncle C or Aunt S arrive early.
I put Squizzle on the bed with a bottle and hopped in the shower. About three tenths of a second later, I had my first heart attack of the morning. The Boss, a thousand blessings be upon her, has one really rotten trick she likes to pull on me. She waits until I get in the shower and then sneaks in and pulls the curtain back ala "Psycho", scaring the he!! out of me. She has done it repeatedly for years and I never see it coming and she never stops laughing about it.
Squizzles, it would seem, has developed his mother's twisted sense of humor. He climbed off the bed (a very recent trick he learned), crawled to the bathroom door, pushed it all the way open and invited himself over to the tub. He then proceeded to play peek-a-boo with an unsuspecting Daddy. When the curtain snapped back, I jumped (and I mean physically JUMPED) around and saw nothing. Until I looked down at an obviously pleased Squizzle. Not how I planned to start the morning, but nothing compared to where it was going.
After a minute long battle of shower curtain tug-o-war with Squizzles, I gave up on the shower and got dressed. Just as I was putting my shoes on, I hear a knock at the bedroom door. I figured Uncle C must have arrived. I opened the door and found Peff standing there.
"Um, Dad?"
"Yes, son?"
"Can I, um, watch you pee?"
****We now turn to Dr. Snake Oil to explain the following .01 seconds in medical terminology...
"As you see here, the subject is a male in his mid thirties, non smoker and suffering from obesity, blindness and a mild form of psychosis. Otherwise in perfect health. If I may direct your attention to the Temporal Lobe of the brain (yes, that's it right there, the small portion of grey matter just to the front of the slowly spinning hamster wheel), you will see that the just received auditory stimulus has caused a chain reaction of sorts. The heart, under an instant and massive crushing force has slammed an immense volume of blood up the circulatory route to the Temporal Lobe and the resulting pressure has caused this major artery here to burst open like Andrew George in overtime. This has predicated a rare, simultaneous myocardial infarction and debilitating stroke. Massive paralysis has now engulfed the subject, terminating only when he can gather enough force of will to mumble weakly"....*****
"'scuse me?"
"I want to watch you pee. You know. The movie Mom got in Redbox last night. "U" "P".
You know dad, Up. The movie?"
"wow."
"Um, yeah, sure buddy. You go knock yourself out. I'm gonna lie down for a minute."
You see, Peff loves to watch Super Why on PBS. He has learned all his letters and the sounds they make. He has even started to put them together in words, which is pretty amazing. And because he is his father's son, he's also an unrepentant show-off. If he can read even a little bit, he likes to let you know by spelling whatever word he sees.
There is nothing so dangerous as a little knowledge. You pee. "U" "P". Up.
I've said it before and I'm sure I'll say it again,I can't make this stuff up. Holy Lord, I thought I was going to die. I still might. We men just aren't equipped to handle this kind of crap. And that is why I give "U" "P". I can't take it anymore.
Men CANNOT be the primary caregivers for children over any lengthy period of time. We simply lack the magic. And the iron will.
Let me explain.
It's Wednesday today, and that means baking. I'm planning on gingerbread houses from a cheap kit we got at walmart. Since Uncle C has the day off for bereavement time, I told him to sleep in and then bring the kids over anyway and take a little time off for himself this afternoon. Motor usually comes over around 9:30 or 10.
Well I figured that this meant once I got the Boss and the girls shipped off, I could go down and grab a quick shower before the usual Wednesday chaos erupted. Now I can't leave Squizzles with Peff, especially when Peff is "Bunny hunting" (He loves to play "Raving Rabbids" on the XBOX). So I grab Squizzle and tell Peff that I'll be in the shower should Uncle C or Aunt S arrive early.
I put Squizzle on the bed with a bottle and hopped in the shower. About three tenths of a second later, I had my first heart attack of the morning. The Boss, a thousand blessings be upon her, has one really rotten trick she likes to pull on me. She waits until I get in the shower and then sneaks in and pulls the curtain back ala "Psycho", scaring the he!! out of me. She has done it repeatedly for years and I never see it coming and she never stops laughing about it.
Squizzles, it would seem, has developed his mother's twisted sense of humor. He climbed off the bed (a very recent trick he learned), crawled to the bathroom door, pushed it all the way open and invited himself over to the tub. He then proceeded to play peek-a-boo with an unsuspecting Daddy. When the curtain snapped back, I jumped (and I mean physically JUMPED) around and saw nothing. Until I looked down at an obviously pleased Squizzle. Not how I planned to start the morning, but nothing compared to where it was going.
After a minute long battle of shower curtain tug-o-war with Squizzles, I gave up on the shower and got dressed. Just as I was putting my shoes on, I hear a knock at the bedroom door. I figured Uncle C must have arrived. I opened the door and found Peff standing there.
"Um, Dad?"
"Yes, son?"
"Can I, um, watch you pee?"
****We now turn to Dr. Snake Oil to explain the following .01 seconds in medical terminology...
"As you see here, the subject is a male in his mid thirties, non smoker and suffering from obesity, blindness and a mild form of psychosis. Otherwise in perfect health. If I may direct your attention to the Temporal Lobe of the brain (yes, that's it right there, the small portion of grey matter just to the front of the slowly spinning hamster wheel), you will see that the just received auditory stimulus has caused a chain reaction of sorts. The heart, under an instant and massive crushing force has slammed an immense volume of blood up the circulatory route to the Temporal Lobe and the resulting pressure has caused this major artery here to burst open like Andrew George in overtime. This has predicated a rare, simultaneous myocardial infarction and debilitating stroke. Massive paralysis has now engulfed the subject, terminating only when he can gather enough force of will to mumble weakly"....*****
"'scuse me?"
"I want to watch you pee. You know. The movie Mom got in Redbox last night. "U" "P".
You know dad, Up. The movie?"
"wow."
"Um, yeah, sure buddy. You go knock yourself out. I'm gonna lie down for a minute."
You see, Peff loves to watch Super Why on PBS. He has learned all his letters and the sounds they make. He has even started to put them together in words, which is pretty amazing. And because he is his father's son, he's also an unrepentant show-off. If he can read even a little bit, he likes to let you know by spelling whatever word he sees.
There is nothing so dangerous as a little knowledge. You pee. "U" "P". Up.
I've said it before and I'm sure I'll say it again,I can't make this stuff up. Holy Lord, I thought I was going to die. I still might. We men just aren't equipped to handle this kind of crap. And that is why I give "U" "P". I can't take it anymore.
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Rudolph the Big Rack Reindeer
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Having had an excusably busy couple of days this weekend, Beak remembered to bring the spectacular work of Reaggers the artist today. She was right, the thing does have great antlers. And don't be fooled by the peace symbols on the bridle. That deer would kill you and your whole family if Santa would let it. Just look at the crazy, googly eyes. The drunken, Kennedy-esque nose. That deer is nuts. Someone needs to put it down, before it starts foaming. Very dangerous game, those reindeer.
Busted
Woke up in a bad mood today, not sure why, but so did all the monkeys. I've busted up two full out, knock down fist fights and as I type, Reaggers is pinching Bub. Someone is gonna die today, and it'll probably be me.
I left my phone down on the dresser to charge this morning and didn't hear the Boss calling to see how we were. She has a meeting downtown this afternoon so she decided to drop off a coke (how does she know exactly when I need one?) and see if the kids had tied me to a chair and that's why I wasn't answering the phone.
Bad timing for me.
Now so far this morning, I cooked scrambled eggs and made OJ for breakfast. I fed, bathed and clothed the baby, loaded the dishwasher, did a load of laundry, picked up and vacuumed the living room, took Bub to the bathroom twice, got the kids dressed, and discovered that I now have to keep the garbage can on a chair because Squizzle has decided that dumpster diving is his new favorite pastime. Oh yeah, I broke up the fights and played bouncer for the upstairs toy room.
Does the Boss get to see me anxiously engaged in any of these activities? No, she walks in the second after Squizzles wakes up screaming, the kids spread Dora the Explorer Memory game cards all over the floor, and I, having just a moment before sensed a second for myself, sat down to play a few hands of play poker on the Internet (don't get all wrinkled up, its PLAY poker. As if I could even afford penny poker!). But Vicconian Chaos is erupting around me while I get caught red handed playing a video game.
How's that for bad Karma?
To her ever blessed credit, the Boss refrained from making several wise acre remarks that based on the evidence before her would have been well justified. She handed me the drink, teased me about not having had a heart attack to explain not picking up the phone, and left for her meeting without a word about the train wreck before her eyes. Patience has always been her strong suit, much to my eternal gratitude.
Well, enough for now. Peff just spilled his OJ, Reaggers is jumping off the back of the couch, Bub needs to go Potty, and Squizzles is making a run at the trash can again.
And my three aces just got popped by a flush on the river.
I told you my Karma sucks.
I left my phone down on the dresser to charge this morning and didn't hear the Boss calling to see how we were. She has a meeting downtown this afternoon so she decided to drop off a coke (how does she know exactly when I need one?) and see if the kids had tied me to a chair and that's why I wasn't answering the phone.
Bad timing for me.
Now so far this morning, I cooked scrambled eggs and made OJ for breakfast. I fed, bathed and clothed the baby, loaded the dishwasher, did a load of laundry, picked up and vacuumed the living room, took Bub to the bathroom twice, got the kids dressed, and discovered that I now have to keep the garbage can on a chair because Squizzle has decided that dumpster diving is his new favorite pastime. Oh yeah, I broke up the fights and played bouncer for the upstairs toy room.
Does the Boss get to see me anxiously engaged in any of these activities? No, she walks in the second after Squizzles wakes up screaming, the kids spread Dora the Explorer Memory game cards all over the floor, and I, having just a moment before sensed a second for myself, sat down to play a few hands of play poker on the Internet (don't get all wrinkled up, its PLAY poker. As if I could even afford penny poker!). But Vicconian Chaos is erupting around me while I get caught red handed playing a video game.
How's that for bad Karma?
To her ever blessed credit, the Boss refrained from making several wise acre remarks that based on the evidence before her would have been well justified. She handed me the drink, teased me about not having had a heart attack to explain not picking up the phone, and left for her meeting without a word about the train wreck before her eyes. Patience has always been her strong suit, much to my eternal gratitude.
Well, enough for now. Peff just spilled his OJ, Reaggers is jumping off the back of the couch, Bub needs to go Potty, and Squizzles is making a run at the trash can again.
And my three aces just got popped by a flush on the river.
I told you my Karma sucks.
Monday, December 14, 2009
Leftovers
A few random thoughts that weren't enough to get their own post but amused me nonetheless...
If participation is any indicator, I seem to have found good poll questions. I kept the obvious choices out to spark competition and made the best of the best poll for the titans to duke it out. It doesn't surprise me that "The Grinch" is holding its own against "It's a Wonderful Life", because I once made the argument in a senior level lit class that Dr. Seuss is a better poet than Shakespeare. I think that it is because only the literati enjoy Shakespeare as it was meant to be; but moms, dads, and little kids can all appreciate "Hop on Pop".
Dr. Seuss has a much broader audience, his messages are more universal, and he filled his works with every bit as much complexity and just as many literary devices. All while keeping rhyme, meter and word selection that could be followed by the average kindergartner. And before you claim that Dr. Seuss used words that he made up, you should know that Shakespeare did the same thing. Take that all you free-verse loving, Walt Whitman wannabe, "beat" "poets". Write one piece as influential on the whole of American culture as "Green Eggs and Ham" or "Star Bellied Sneetches" and I'll listen to your snobby complaints that poetry does not need rhyme and meter. Until then....you can reflect on the irony that the best Christmas book in the last hundred years was written by a Jewish man (now THAT is funny).
***Editor's note:
That might be the first thing I have written on literature since I graduated in June. I didn't even want to throw up this time. The numbing of my brain cells must be wearing off. Of course as much as I love James Joyce, a solid year of Ulysses and Finnegans Wake will cause even the most die hard lit Professor to read nothing but comic books for a month or two. But while I'm on the subject of lit, can you tell how I feel about most modern "poetry"? Frost said poetry without rhyme was "like playing tennis with the net down". Amen, says I. Then he wrote in free verse anyway. Hypocrite.
On a related poll note, I had wanted to be funny with the "Best Christmas Action Movie" category. I was going to ask the question and then have four answer boxes that all said Die Hard, but the stupid Techno-crap feature wouldn't let me use duplicate answers. So I went with just the one line but it wasn't as funny visually.
The most unexpected response in the history of the universe came when my MOTHER, of all people, asked me why I didn't have Die Hard 2 listed. Didn't see that one coming. I would have changed it for her but someone had already voted and once that happens, you can't edit the poll anymore.
One last poll note; I did indeed go "Brother Brigham" with the beard. I've had a mustache since the Eldest was born, so even with the chin beard, the lack of appropriate facial hair was disturbing. At church it turned more than one head. I explained that no, I hadn't lost a bet (My team WON this year); but I was putting earnest money down, so to speak, on a future career. And if by some miracle of miracles I wind up teaching seminary (don't hold your breath), it'll be true. But if not, I did it for the blog readers and with any luck at all we can turn this into a paying gig (which should happen right after I retire from seminary). The Boss has not commented other than to say that she's "getting used to it". I think she gave up on me being presentable years ago.
Here's a piece of worthless trivia that you never knew you were interested in until you find yourself researching it on Google:
Where in the world does one find gerbils in the wild?
I know, I have way the he!! too much spare time, but I did wonder not long ago where I might go to see the vast plains of plastic tubes and wire wheels that serve as homes to the last great herds of wild gerbils. Seriously, how trippy would it be to wake up in a tent somewhere and find your campsite has been devastated by throngs of gerbils intent on defending their territory?
Has anyone ever come across a gerbil (not a pot-gut, an actual gerbil) in the place Mother Nature planted them? I truly had no clue as to where I might find the home turf of gerbils and the lack of even an educated guess bugged me to no end. I know, I know...aren't there dishes to wash, kids to potty train, blogs to write, blah, blah, blah?
But now that I've brought it up, you want to know, don't you? Admit it, you're curious, huh? Alright I'll save you the trip to the search engine.
Gerbils are natives of the Gobi Desert on the borders of China and Mongolia. So I'll bet none of us have ever seen one in the wild. And according to Wikipedia they really are destructive little beasts. The Chinese government has been using eagles to combat the damage the critters have done to 11 MILLION acres of grass land. Their destructive capacity and rapid reproduction make them illegal to own in California (sorry Aunt T).
And y'all thought Global Warming was from man made greenhouse gasses? These horrendous beasts are turning rich grass land into more Gobi desert (just what the world needs), but we're busy self-righteously trying to stop people from lighting their fireplaces?
Electric cars? Really? Isn't it cheaper to just extinguish the gerbil? Until Al Gore calls for the immediate annihilation of the thundering Mongolian gerbil herds, I'm not listening. Here's my new motto: "Global Warming...it's all the fault of those damn gerbils."
Ahh, the satisfying scratch of useless knowledge. You feel better now, don't you? Bet you go to Wikipedia anyways. It's not my fault it's interesting.
Now, for the last bit of random uselessness.
I've been wondering what is easier to keep clean: a child who is mostly potty trained but still has occasional accidents; or the infant who has a constantly snotty nose and refuses to sit still?
Bub still has enough accidents that I have to be ever vigilant, but I don't have to clean him up very often anymore. Squizzle on the other hand has been fighting a nasty cold for about a week now and the kid is a fountain of boogers. Every time he sneezes he looks like Bill Murray in Ghostbusters.
And while Bub's messes are usually bigger, at least he is cooperative with me(there is a pun there for you Mandarin speakers. Instead of going 1 or 2, kids have to go "little" or "big". C'mon! That was funny! Multi-lingual punning? What is this, Finnegans Wake? I mean really! Where else you gonna get this kind of quality entertainment?).
Squizzles, on the other hand, is a disaster. It's easier to hold the tissue still and let him squirm his face over it instead. The kid hates having his nose wiped. Don't ask me why. You'd think he'd want that stuff off his face, but what do I know? He has reached that wonderful developmental plateau where all he wants to do is move wherever you don't want him to.
You should try to change his diaper. No cooperation, whatsoever. Special Forces POW's don't resist this hard. Not even "name, rank, or serial number". The boy squirms, rolls, twists, and flexes himself into angles that are impossible to clean and re-diaper. I wish to heck that my wrestlers fought this hard to stay off of their backs. The child refuses to lay flat.
Oh, yeah, he's also learned to go up stairs. Not down them though, because that might be useful to me. Instead, he goes up them and then cries till someone brings him back down so he can start the rapid ascent once again.
I weep for the days when my little buddy lay where I set him, would quietly sit on my lap to watch football, and didn't mind getting his diaper changed. He's never liked getting his nose wiped though, so I guess the good old days weren't always the good old days.
Well, the big kids have grown weary of the XBOX, so I guess it's time to go fix lunch.
Merry Christmas all!!
If participation is any indicator, I seem to have found good poll questions. I kept the obvious choices out to spark competition and made the best of the best poll for the titans to duke it out. It doesn't surprise me that "The Grinch" is holding its own against "It's a Wonderful Life", because I once made the argument in a senior level lit class that Dr. Seuss is a better poet than Shakespeare. I think that it is because only the literati enjoy Shakespeare as it was meant to be; but moms, dads, and little kids can all appreciate "Hop on Pop".
Dr. Seuss has a much broader audience, his messages are more universal, and he filled his works with every bit as much complexity and just as many literary devices. All while keeping rhyme, meter and word selection that could be followed by the average kindergartner. And before you claim that Dr. Seuss used words that he made up, you should know that Shakespeare did the same thing. Take that all you free-verse loving, Walt Whitman wannabe, "beat" "poets". Write one piece as influential on the whole of American culture as "Green Eggs and Ham" or "Star Bellied Sneetches" and I'll listen to your snobby complaints that poetry does not need rhyme and meter. Until then....you can reflect on the irony that the best Christmas book in the last hundred years was written by a Jewish man (now THAT is funny).
***Editor's note:
That might be the first thing I have written on literature since I graduated in June. I didn't even want to throw up this time. The numbing of my brain cells must be wearing off. Of course as much as I love James Joyce, a solid year of Ulysses and Finnegans Wake will cause even the most die hard lit Professor to read nothing but comic books for a month or two. But while I'm on the subject of lit, can you tell how I feel about most modern "poetry"? Frost said poetry without rhyme was "like playing tennis with the net down". Amen, says I. Then he wrote in free verse anyway. Hypocrite.
On a related poll note, I had wanted to be funny with the "Best Christmas Action Movie" category. I was going to ask the question and then have four answer boxes that all said Die Hard, but the stupid Techno-crap feature wouldn't let me use duplicate answers. So I went with just the one line but it wasn't as funny visually.
The most unexpected response in the history of the universe came when my MOTHER, of all people, asked me why I didn't have Die Hard 2 listed. Didn't see that one coming. I would have changed it for her but someone had already voted and once that happens, you can't edit the poll anymore.
One last poll note; I did indeed go "Brother Brigham" with the beard. I've had a mustache since the Eldest was born, so even with the chin beard, the lack of appropriate facial hair was disturbing. At church it turned more than one head. I explained that no, I hadn't lost a bet (My team WON this year); but I was putting earnest money down, so to speak, on a future career. And if by some miracle of miracles I wind up teaching seminary (don't hold your breath), it'll be true. But if not, I did it for the blog readers and with any luck at all we can turn this into a paying gig (which should happen right after I retire from seminary). The Boss has not commented other than to say that she's "getting used to it". I think she gave up on me being presentable years ago.
Here's a piece of worthless trivia that you never knew you were interested in until you find yourself researching it on Google:
Where in the world does one find gerbils in the wild?
I know, I have way the he!! too much spare time, but I did wonder not long ago where I might go to see the vast plains of plastic tubes and wire wheels that serve as homes to the last great herds of wild gerbils. Seriously, how trippy would it be to wake up in a tent somewhere and find your campsite has been devastated by throngs of gerbils intent on defending their territory?
Has anyone ever come across a gerbil (not a pot-gut, an actual gerbil) in the place Mother Nature planted them? I truly had no clue as to where I might find the home turf of gerbils and the lack of even an educated guess bugged me to no end. I know, I know...aren't there dishes to wash, kids to potty train, blogs to write, blah, blah, blah?
But now that I've brought it up, you want to know, don't you? Admit it, you're curious, huh? Alright I'll save you the trip to the search engine.
Gerbils are natives of the Gobi Desert on the borders of China and Mongolia. So I'll bet none of us have ever seen one in the wild. And according to Wikipedia they really are destructive little beasts. The Chinese government has been using eagles to combat the damage the critters have done to 11 MILLION acres of grass land. Their destructive capacity and rapid reproduction make them illegal to own in California (sorry Aunt T).
And y'all thought Global Warming was from man made greenhouse gasses? These horrendous beasts are turning rich grass land into more Gobi desert (just what the world needs), but we're busy self-righteously trying to stop people from lighting their fireplaces?
Electric cars? Really? Isn't it cheaper to just extinguish the gerbil? Until Al Gore calls for the immediate annihilation of the thundering Mongolian gerbil herds, I'm not listening. Here's my new motto: "Global Warming...it's all the fault of those damn gerbils."
Ahh, the satisfying scratch of useless knowledge. You feel better now, don't you? Bet you go to Wikipedia anyways. It's not my fault it's interesting.
Now, for the last bit of random uselessness.
I've been wondering what is easier to keep clean: a child who is mostly potty trained but still has occasional accidents; or the infant who has a constantly snotty nose and refuses to sit still?
Bub still has enough accidents that I have to be ever vigilant, but I don't have to clean him up very often anymore. Squizzle on the other hand has been fighting a nasty cold for about a week now and the kid is a fountain of boogers. Every time he sneezes he looks like Bill Murray in Ghostbusters.
And while Bub's messes are usually bigger, at least he is cooperative with me(there is a pun there for you Mandarin speakers. Instead of going 1 or 2, kids have to go "little" or "big". C'mon! That was funny! Multi-lingual punning? What is this, Finnegans Wake? I mean really! Where else you gonna get this kind of quality entertainment?).
Squizzles, on the other hand, is a disaster. It's easier to hold the tissue still and let him squirm his face over it instead. The kid hates having his nose wiped. Don't ask me why. You'd think he'd want that stuff off his face, but what do I know? He has reached that wonderful developmental plateau where all he wants to do is move wherever you don't want him to.
You should try to change his diaper. No cooperation, whatsoever. Special Forces POW's don't resist this hard. Not even "name, rank, or serial number". The boy squirms, rolls, twists, and flexes himself into angles that are impossible to clean and re-diaper. I wish to heck that my wrestlers fought this hard to stay off of their backs. The child refuses to lay flat.
Oh, yeah, he's also learned to go up stairs. Not down them though, because that might be useful to me. Instead, he goes up them and then cries till someone brings him back down so he can start the rapid ascent once again.
I weep for the days when my little buddy lay where I set him, would quietly sit on my lap to watch football, and didn't mind getting his diaper changed. He's never liked getting his nose wiped though, so I guess the good old days weren't always the good old days.
Well, the big kids have grown weary of the XBOX, so I guess it's time to go fix lunch.
Merry Christmas all!!
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