Archives for category: Random Thoughts
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Songs From the Shower – How Many Times Are You Going To Pillage the Cupboards?

October 5, 2012 //
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Worm, it looks like you’re at it again. (9)

You’re ripping food out of the cupboards and then (11)

When tomorrow should see us moving ahead,  (11)

We’re back in the cupboards with hands on the bread. (11)

Why do you squeeze and poke it so much?

Can you grip it less tight?  Try a softer touch.

My potato chips! Stop!  I’d rather you not

Pummel or trample them with your sumo squat.

Dad, I was checking the freshness dates on everything. Quality control, you know?

The Cheez-its have not done any wrong,

Why do they suffer?  Were they doomed all along?

Already have your hands and feet doled out wrath,

I pray you’ll be cleansed of your deeds in the bath.

Not cereal too!  When will it end?

As you tear open boxes,  I see a trend.

One hundred times now we have seen you destroy

The food in the pantry and cupboards.  Bad boy!

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Please Son, Tell Me Everything is Alright…

August 21, 2012 //
1

(This post was from last week, but there were technical difficulties with WordPress.)

There are days when the toll of fatherhood drills the very core of a man.  That toll wanted to be paid in full this morning.  Not in money, but in pounds of sanity.  (It’s happened to me before.  But, I’ve always blacked out from mental anguish only to later wake up remembering nothing at all.)  As I sat there in the living room staring at my progeny, I could only wonder what was sticking to my neck, how much alcohol could ease me through to Friday, and why I could translate Curious George’s cackles into full sentences.

Then, I was snapped back into the present with Duncan licking baby yogurt off my foot.  I just couldn’t bring the right attitude to the day.  I was in a bad mood and needed to zone out on the couch for a few uninterrupted hours.  Is that wrong?  Could I just toss Worm into his crib, close the door and let him amuse himself all afternoon?  Was I shirking my responsibility as a parent?  Should I be ashamed for not wanting to clean poop, wipe up food, or chase Worm around ad nauseum today?  If life had a pause feature, the second button press wouldn’t come until dinner time.

I stared off into space as Worm played with his food.  My brain was checking out.  I didn’t want to deal with the chores and baby that lay in front of me.  I couldn’t will myself to be engaging, funny or entertaining.  On the outside, I wasn’t more than a body taking up space.  On the inside, I was somewhere else entirely.  My guilty conscience rattled between my ears that “A good dad wouldn’t be so disconnected.  You should make an effort to ‘be’ with the Worm.  He needs you.  It’s your job.  Selfish asshole.”

A good dad.  I sure as hell didn’t feel like one and my thoughts concurred.  Even my actions spoke loud and clear that I was in no mood to be a dad today.   I didn’t want to do dad stuff.  I didn’t want to play with toy cars, or dig in the sand lot, or cut hot dogs into bite size pieces.  I was worn out, beat down, and drained.  I needed to recharge.

Then as if he heard me, Worm stopped what he was doing and looked up at me with the sweetest look only your child could give.  He patted me on the elbow and smiled as if to say “It’s alright, dad.  I think you’re doing a great job and I love you.”

Then he rest his head on my arm and gave me his little Worm hug.

I shed a couple tears realizing the Worm was there for me as much as I was there for him.

There are as many pillars as there are people in a family.  And when the roof starts to shake and one pillar weakens, the strength of the other pillars are plain to see.  We’re all holding this house together, no one more than the next.  (It’s a good reason to have plenty of kids…)  Thanks for your love and support Worm!

Gavin – 15; Dad – 7 (Bring me those hot dogs.  I’m ready to julienne the hell out of them for you again, Worm!)

We Pick Each Other Up…

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Songs From the Shower – The Toilet Seat Debate is Over

July 9, 2012 //
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Worm, do you know what I just deduced? (9)

We outnumber the women here in the roost! (11)

A vital precept shall be declared!  (9)

Toilet lids remain up and lives will be spared!  (11)

—–

As men, we demand this noble act

Of maintaining order in chaos with tact.

If seats stay up, there will be no pee

Anywhere else, but in the toilet you see!

—–

Worm!  Good grief!  Hold on just a minute!

It’s not a swimming pool!  Don’t jump right in it!

Something’s amiss.  Maybe you’re too small

To perceive the commode’s not a bath, that’s all!

—–

The latrine idea is more complex

Than your brain can dissect before getting vex.

I don’t speak ‘baby’, your speech is poor.

So we’ll keep the lid down until you mature.

—–

Later, we shall revisit this game

When Worm’s a bit older and I’m not yet lame.

We do concede now, lucky female.

But, I warn you be swift, for soon we’ll prevail!

Dad, This is The Smallest Bathtub Ever!

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It’s So Sweet, We Share Even the Littlest Things!

July 2, 2012 //
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Kids are drawn towards everything.  They are like sponges, absorbing the delights of the world.  Sensory inputs capture sights, sounds, smells, tastes, and germs.  Especially germs.

Last week, Worm caught his first cold.  Yes, he’s 15 months old and this is the boy’s first communicable disease.  He received his initiation into the human disease network with a 102.5 degree fever for the first 3 days.  Phlegm has been leaking from his nose ever since…and today marks 14 days after the onset.  (Luckily humans are designed so that water boogers from the nose can be easily captured by the open mouth, effectively recycling fluids while reducing mess.)

I couldn’t tell how bad Worm was feeling because of his one word vocabulary.  (I can interpret “Ah!” only so many different ways.)  But after Worm used my shirt and face as his personal hankie, I caught the germ and found out how miserable he truly was.  Fever, headache, stomach aches, lethargy and muscle cramps.  This shared experience between us royally sucked.

Paging Dr. Worm, paging Dr. Worm. Your Assistance is Needed On The Couch!

And it’s still sucking…

Misery loves company, doesn’t it?  Worm, there are some things you just shouldn’t share with your friends.

Gavin – 14; Dad – 7

Dad, For You To Get Better, I Prescribe Ten Worm Hugs a Day!

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Say What? I Can’t Hear You. I Must Be Going Deaf…

June 26, 2012 //
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Worm’s not talking yet, but he’s a babbling brook of ooh’s and ah’s.  I find those sounds so adorable and easily some of the sweetest sounds to wet my ears.  (Geez, I’m starting to sound like a hormonally charged woman…see what stay-at-home daddyhood does to a man?  It rips off the hair from your chest and gently caresses you with it until you’re a sensitive, sobbing mess.)

When Worm serenades us with cooing songs, I can’t help but grab him and squeeze him and tell him I love him (less than Frodo and Duncan, but not by much).  It’s when he switches from cooing to bloodcurdling scream is when I want to just grab him and squeeze him.

I always thought that my kid wasn’t going to be one yelling at the top of his lungs during a moment of silence in church.  (Actually, he can’t do this because we don’t go to church.  But, he’ll be the one screaming his lungs off when we, heathens, are dead and burning inside the gates of hell.  Ok, we’ll all be screaming.  I digress.)  I always thought that other parents just didn’t know how to control their squawking children in public.  Kids screaming at the supermarket.  Bad parenting.  Kids screaming in the restaurant.  Bad parenting.  My offspring would never do that.  I was sure that my parenting techniques were superior.  Then I was smacked with the reality hammer…

Worm goes from zero to eleven on the volume knob instantly.  At least a hundred decibels can come out of that little body on a whim.  The words “use your inside voice” return a blank stare.  My only solution to the problem was to paint lips on flesh-colored duct tape and cover Worm’s pie hole for our outings, but I can’t find a roll anywhere!  (Must be sold out in stores…or hasn’t been invented yet!  You’re welcome to hijack that idea.  Please send royalties directly to MVG.)

It’s difficult to spend time in a quiet environment with Worm anymore.  Movie theaters are out.  Malls are out.  Even the zoo is suspect.  (Why are all the animals gawking at us and running off, ears covered?)  When we can, we ask for outside seating at venues, in hopes that passersby may mistake the shrill cries of our son for an ambulance or an impending velociraptor.  Subsequently, I’ve narrowed down the list of places we can take the family to:  airport runways, drag races, and space (the final frontier).

I know that I’m losing my hearing from the pint-sized banshee.  I feel the cilia in my ear quivering and dropping dead from fright with every high frequency sonic blast.  No blood has poured from my ears yet, but that doesn’t mean I’m not bleeding inside my head.

“What did you say?”, “Can you turn up the volume on the TV?”, and “I think you’re mumbling.” are the top three phrases from my mouth.  And they’re about 30 years from being followed by “Could I get you to change my Depends?”, “I need to take out my teeth to clean them.”, and “My wrinkles sweat profusely in summer.”  I’m way too young to lose my hearing.

On the plus side, I can now use Worm as an excuse for not listening to my wife.

Worm, you’ve scored yet again.  And just for future reference, when you ask to borrow my car keys I won’t be able to hear you.

Gavin – 13; Dad – 7

“WHAT DID YOU SAY SON?”                                            “I Said That Pink is NOT Your Color, Dad.”

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5 Things I’ve Learned Since Last Father’s Day

June 19, 2012 //
1

I’m a dad and, subsequently, get to experience the perks of fatherhood.  One day a year, I am patted on the back for selflessly donating a gamete in the name of species propagation.  On Sunday, I was rewarded handsomely (in scallops and beer) for passing my torch of bad traits and other detriments to a future generation of human!

I thought the novelty of Dad Day would have worn off after my initiation into the club last year, but I must admit that this time has more magnitude than the previous.  In 2011, I spent the day contemplating how I was going to change Worm’s life.  Today, I reflect on how much Worm has changed me.

Having a kid is like a walk in the park.  Raising a kid is like a marathon.  Every single day.

Since this is my second Father’s Day, I’ll impart some of the things I’ve learned since last year:

  1. Keeping up with my little one requires the stamina of the Energizer bunny.  For comparison, I ran 6 miles in the mud on Saturday and at the end I realized it was nowhere close to the effort of a couple hours chasing the Worm.
  2. It’s possible for humans to survive on whipped cream and ranch dressing.  Worm could eat a tub of each.  Blech!
  3. One job of a dad is that of a human garbage disposal.  Whatever Worm doesn’t eat, I usually eat. Worm’s table scraps are not quite filet mignon, especially the partially chewed pieces.  Yes, I’m gagging as I write this.  But, it’s sadly true.  (I hate wasting food.)
  4. There are some things more disgusting than wearing my baby’s body fluids.  I’m not sure what they are, but repeating this phrase gets me through those rough days when I need more than just a wet wipe.
  5. Stubbornness runs in families.  I was hoping it would skip a generation and we would be spared.  Instead, Worm’s got two servings of it.

Let me leave you with a relevant quote for the Day of the Dad:

“My father didn’t tell me how to live; he lived, and let me watch him do it.” — Clarence Budington Kelland

To my own dad – Thanks!  You taught me a lot just by being there for me.  You’re the best!

I hope everyone had a Happy Father’s Day!

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOORRRRRRRRRRM!!!

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The End Of an Era. Bye Bye Carrera…Hello Family Wagon!

May 31, 2012 //
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You’ve heard this story before.  Young bachelor finds love.  Young bachelor buys love.  Young bachelor drives first love and finds second love.  Young bachelor marries second love.  Young bachelor and second love make third love.  Young bachelor, second love, and third love can’t all fit into first love.  Bye bye first love.

Trust Me. That’s Not a Real Smile…

As of today, my beloved 1993 Carrera (in red of course) will be leaving us and going back to the motherland.  After spending its youth here in the United States, the 911 will mark its 21st birthday in Germany.  It will be set free on the autobahn to redline to its heart’s content.  Maybe it will fall for a beautiful Maserati…

As for me, it’s a bittersweet goodbye.  I’ve put a lot of blood, sweat, and blood into fixing up the quintessential, most recognized 911 model ever built.  But as my ears, nose, and family grow larger, it is time to make room for all that extra growth…and this Porsche is not equipped to carry more than Steph and I (until stashing kids and dogs in a trunk becomes legal in CA).

Bye bye 911.  Maybe we will see each other again someday…maybe 20 years from now when the fledglings have flown the coop and we, old birds, are looking to recapture a semblance of our youth.  Steph and I will once again be behind your steering wheel…this time barely able to see the dashboard and hear if the engine is on or off.  We’ll drive you with the top down, my toupee blowing in the wind and Steph’s silver-blue wig firmly planted on the rear wind screen after having peeled off of her head.  We will cruise in the fast lane at 25mph under the limit and never move over into a slower lane for speeding traffic, for our Porsche is built for speed even if we won’t use it.  It will take us 5 minutes to get into and out of the Carrera and we’ll wonder why they don’t build these damn cars for old folks like us.

This chapter is closed and a new one just opened.  I went from us two to we three in a blink of an eye.  I’ve morphed into family guy man.  So when you see me pull up to the intersection in my dirty minivan and our eyes meet, try not to look at me as a poor soul hampered by a van overflowing with screaming kids, squeaking toys and stale cookie crumbs.  When you rev your sports car and peel away from the light with me in your rearview mirror, don’t scoff and sneer.  Just remember this.  Chances are pretty good that my kids have flicked some boogers on your nice paint job.

Minivan, here we come…

Worm, car-ma is going to pay you back for this!!!

Gavin – 12; Dad – 7

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