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It Is…Alive!
Dear Father, it has been weeks since my last post. Don’t even bother with the penance, I know what to do…
Dear Reader(s),
I am sorry that I have left you hanging for so long. I got a little snowed under at work and have not made time to get my blog on. Even as I type these words I feel like an addict that has been off the junk for a while, but has now fallen off the wagon and is on a long overdue heroin bender. In fact, I feel the heroin-esque sensation coursing through my fingers as I diligently peck away at my keyboard rig. I had better get to a point quickly before I slip away into a comatose state within my own head movies. Should I loosen this tournequet…
With the passing of that surge of adrenaline that comes from me falling off of the blogging wagon, or bl0gon, I am now ready to tell you all what has been going on these past few weeks.
I should start with my new conquest. I read the article on Yahoo.com about the kid that started out trading a cell phone one Craig’sl List and ended up with a Porsche two years later and I was inspired. I have embarked on a similar journey over the past couple of weeks. I will frequently update you with my CL adventures as I quest to trade for something bigger and better. http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2010/07/20/teen-trades-cell-phone-fo_n_653018.html
So far I started by selling my lawn mower. I don’t use my mower because I support illegal immigrants by paying them to cut my grass. It’s my way of giving back to the latino community that has done so much for me. By this I mean that they brought Mexican food and Dos Equis to this country. I will never repay my debt to Juan…or is it Paco? They all look the same once you strap a leaf blower to them…I kid of course.
My next CL transaction was to sell some hand carved wood columns that I salvaged from a hotel that was being renovated. I thought that I was going to create something cool and original with those columns, but all that I could muster was a pile of wood columns for M to climb on. I traded said columns for an antique vanity that has very unique etchings and is in pretty good shape. I am cleaning it up to repost it hopefully this weekend. I also traded my old original Xbox for an unopened set of P90X. I have not yet decided to try the P90X and get into shape, or to try to parlay it into something else on CL, which is my main objective here…but then again I am kinda fat…stay tuned for a decision on that while I tear into this package of Ho-Ho’s.
Items currently up for sale or trade:
My Laseraim .45 ACP with laser site. I can’t actually post this one on CL, but I need to somehow work it into a trade if I am going to stay true to my mission. We are also starting to shed baby gear like a teenage girl who got lucky and miscarried. I am talking strollers, swings, you name it, we got it…and it all has to go because the baby farm is closed for business.
I will post another entry soon to update you all on the adventures of M & lil B. Some fun tales to be shared!
Living Vicariously Through My Kids
Not long ago I decide that I am going to live vicariously through my children. I am going to have them do all of the things that I did not get to do as a child. I know that most of you already assume that I am talking about sports. Don’t get me wrong, I will probably do what most fathers who participated in sports end up doing for their kids. I will spend thousands upon thousands of dollars sending my kids to sporting camps hosted by local pro athletes (who never actually show up at the camp). I will bribe referees, coaches, and teachers in order to assure the maximum playing time for my kids. Hell, I may even sabotage my children’s opponents. Anything for mention of my child in the local gazette, right? While I will, undoubtedly, do all of these things, there are other, more important things that my children need to experience…for me.
As a child, I always wanted to be trained in martial arts. I never got the chance because I was too busy stealing hood ornaments and pulling drive-by shootings with my paintball gun. Naturally, I want my children to experience the confidence and discipline that is taught through martial arts. My son is now almost 11 months old. I have been training him to become a baby ninja since he was about 6 months old. I am happy to report that he is progressing rather nicely. He even connected on a roundhouse kick to the skull of his three-year-old sister the other day. (assisted by me of course, as he cannot yet walk) It felt as if I were actually the one landing that sweet roundhouse to her petite, blonde noggin. I must say, if dealing out round-houses to one of my kids…using my other kid were a drug, I would be Pablo Escobar. This whole vicarious living concept is going to work out for me, I think.
I never got a tattoo as a young person. Naturally, I do not want my kids to miss their window like I did, so I got M inked. I didn’t want to take her to one of those trendy tattoo shops with their fancy artists and sterilized needles like all of the punk college kids. I found a homeless man the other day that had a sign that read, “Will Tattoo You For Food”, so I hired him. Turns out that he was not looking for food, so after a fifth of $7 whiskey he was ready to get started on my three-year-old daughter’s tat. We are pretty happy with the results and after a brief hospital stay and a bout of tetanus, the tattoo is healing nicely. What a gift for both M and Me!
I think that my children are going to grow up with the sense that they have lived life to the fullest. I can’t wait for tomorrow’s experience where I…er my kids get to go skydiving!
The Other Woman In My Bed
We always thought it was funny when our friends would tell us about their children sleeping in the parent’s bed. We never understood how that could happen. We had the perfect child (don’t we all). In fact, we used to try to bring our toddler into our bed when she was sick or scared. M would lay in the bed about 5 minutes and then she would ask to go back to her own bed. We had it good and those other parents were suckers.
That was then. In recent months our three-year-old daughter has started to infiltrate our bed. At first it was once or twice a week. She would wake up from a bad dream and would come to our room crying at three o’clock in the morning. We would of course scoop her up into our bed for comforting (with the knowledge that she would be heading back to her bed soon). After waking up a few times with a small foot in my face, or rolling over and bumping heads with her little head, I noticed that M had decided to stop going back to her own bed. No big deal, right? I mean, it’s only once or twice a week…
I couldn’t have been more wrong. Now, it is commonplace to wake up in the morning with two women in my bed. M’s sleeping in our bed has gone through a process of evolution. At first, it was the five-minute visit every now and then. Now it has evolved into a nightly occurence. She even brings her pillow, blanket and Haiti (her stuffed Monkey). It’s like she’s slowly moving into our room! Which brings me to the most recent stage of her sleep evolution. Skipping her bed and going straight to ours…
Yep, last night we put M to bed in her bed like always. We read the stories, said the prayers, fetched the water, applied the band-aids, and assembled the sleep brigade of stuffed animals. She was down for the night. The wife and I were in watching television and M had allegedly been in bed for about an hour. My wife went back to our bedroom to get ready for bed and she got a nice surprise when she walked in the room. There was M all tucked into OUR bed. She had her blanket and Haiti. M had herself all propped up on the pillows like she was about to watch some Letterman…wide awake. When questioned about why she was in our bed her response was, ” I just wanted to snuggle”. As hard as was to turn down that snuggle, we shuttled her off to her own bed…in tears. Not to worry, she was in my bed this morning as if she had never left.
I now find myself calling out for help to those afore-mentioned suckers… HELP!
A Night In The Life…
I am going to share something with you all that could change your image of me as a superdad. Iam going to let you in to catch a glimpse of my Clark Kent side. That’s right, I am pulling back the cape, removing the giant “SD” from my spandex toddler fighting uniform ( yes, it’s spandex…my new UnderArmour suit is on backorder).
My real work day begins as I pull into the daycare to pick up my offspring (after donning my SD suit!). I am greeted with shrieks of “Daddy!” and a huge hug. Sounds awesome, doesn’t? Well, it is great! Unfortunately that’s as good as it gets for this superdad…see, the very toddlers that I adore so much are also my Kryptonite…
I swoop in and snatch my daughter up like a true hero..and then she and I spend the next 20 minutes collecting baby brother’s empty bottles, soiled baby clothes, and our his daily Crap Log. The daily Crap Log tells you each and every time down to the minute that your baby took a dump during the day. This is valuble information once you learn how to use it…let me know if and when you figure it out so that I will know what it’s for…I feel like the people on LOST blindly plugging away at those buttons on the computer hoping that someday they will find out why…until then I just keep logging the crap…perhaps my secret laboratory will be able to create an anti-toddler serum from this data.
The car ride home is short in distance, and can be very entertaining. It can also be like driving an ice pick through your brain at times…Typically the drive conversation is dominated by my daughter. It goes something like this-
Her: Daddy? Daddy? Daaadeee?
Me: Yes?
Her: I want a snack at home…I want a snack at home…I wan-
Me: Okay, you can have a snack when we get home
Her: I want chocolate milk…Daddy, I want chocolate milk…Daddy, I want chocolate mi-
Me: Okay, you can have some chocolate milk when we get home
Her: Daddy, can I watch Dora? Can I watch a movie? I want to watch Dora, Daddy, can I watch (breath) Dora, Dadd-
Me: Okay, you can watch Dora when we get home…Let’s listen to the radio (loudly) now
This goes on for a solid 15 minutes. Mind you, this does not stop once we arrive at the house. It continues until she has chocolate milk and snack in hand and is seated in front of the TV. How can that child watch the same episode of Dora The Explorer 50 times with same enthusiasm and interest as if it were her first time seeing it??? I am not bitching. This is quiet time, the time when I mend my super suit from the previous battle and prepare myself for the many that lie ahead…
In the interest of time, the dinner portion of our evening may be seen my inagural post…
It is after the toddler eats that she is most powerful. The post dinner ritual literally begins with me getting my ass kicked . To her, I am a human jungle gym…trampoline, tackling dummy, horsey, and most recently olympic downhill freestyle ski run…Once I have been beaten down and lie on the floor out of breath, my wife rescues me by sounding the “bath time” announcement.
The wife and I alternate bath night because the toddlers powers too strong for one to endure back-to-back nights…If it’s my night, I scrape myself up from floor and take the long walk to the bathroom. “Dead Man Walking!” Like sharks in bloody water, my daughter can sense that she has weakened my defences and she is all over me in no time…
Getting weak…kryptonite too strong…super powers, don’t fail me now…something about the toddler’s strength mixed with princess bubble bath make her powers almost too much for this superdad…just…reach…into the water…and…pull the…plug…ahhh sweet release…bathtime is ending…I am gaining strength as the tub drains. The towel somehow stuns the toddler for long enough to get her subdued and into her special pajamas…now for the final battle, bedtime.
Bedtime is supposed to be relaxing. We read stories to the now imprisioned toddler while she is still stunned from the lead-coated PJ’s. Just when you think that you have defeated her; stories read, Taylor Swift swooning in the background, hugs and kisses gently applied and you are tip-toeing toward the sweet serenity of time alone with your wife, you hear, “Daddy”. You stop just out of the sight line of the imprisoned toddler and you don’t move a muscle…her powers are strengthening…she senses your presence and calls out again…This sets off a 30 minute string of trips to and from her room to bring water, apply band aids to phantom wounds, pick up fallen members of the 15-stuffed animal sleep brigade, and hiding any books that contain “witches” from her site.
After a few idol threats to kidnap valued members of the sleep brigade the toddler falls victim to sleep. This leaves you just enough time with the wife to catch up on the day and then it’s off to bed to rest for the next day’s looming battles. We are fast asleep when my super powered senses are aroused…I suddlenly sit straight up in my bed . I check the clock and see that it is 3:00 AM. “Pat, pat pat”…what is that noise… “pat, pat pat”… that I hear? OH NO! It can’t be! She’s baaaack!