Archives for category: Uncategorized

The Mushmonster is 3 years old. Well, technically she’s 3 years and a few months old. I’d like to say that those extra months have been insignificant, but they’ve given Mushie a lot of time to develop. A lot. Also, I’ve pretty much forgotten what happened at her 3rd birthday party…some fuss about pizza, cake, beer, etc. The first few kid birthdays are a blur. Kids screaming. Dogs barking. Parents hovering. Noise. Candles. Wishes. Crying. Bedtime. And hopefully we got the good parts on tape video.

My blog posts have been sparse, mainly because the kids are active…not like walk in the park active, but more like do one triathlon after breakfast and a marathon before bed. And if I’m not watching or participating, there’s hell to pay! So I apologize about the late post…but as with all things having to do with the second child, I just don’t care as much…just kidding. I have to get this post out before the Worm turns 5!

She’s lovely. I can’t say that she’s always been this way because she’s very, um, fickle. In fact, I didn’t really like her much early on. And I think she felt the same. Our timing was off from the beginning. I wanted her to sleep. She wanted to play. She wanted to sleep. I wanted to do some chores. When I didn’t time her meals or naps right, she let me know in buckets of tears. When I would forget to leave the house with extra diapers, she’d let me know by squirting chocolate pudding from her baby carrier…and conveniently up her backside.

Worm and I had a groove going before Mushie…you know, a connection. Me and him. Him and me. Then, Mushie basically shot down the proverbial slide hollering “Whee! Look at me!” and proceeded to literally crash every boy’s party we held. And she’s been trying to steal center stage, since.

The Mushmonster is not really quite like her brother. I feel that when she was born, she broke the mold, ate some of it, and then tried to stick a piece or two into the nearest electrical socket. If I were to use three words to describe my daughter it would be: messy, loud, and unpredictable. There’s always a trail of food crumbs when she eats. I can hear her from a mile away (unless she’s up to something mischievous). And when you need someone to think outside of the box, she never disappoints.

All of these characteristics make Mushie, well, my Mushie. My life would be pretty boring if I had two well-behaved children that listened to me and did as I instructed. I know that. Besides, who doesn’t want to be a hero by rescuing their child twice a day for the rest of eternity the unlimited reward of ‘mooches, hugs and kisses!

I didn’t think I’d like a little girl much, but this one’s neat.

She’s rough and tumble, spicy and sweet.

I don’t understand everything she does.

But, man, can she eat!

The girl has heaps of strong character traits that don’t work well for someone uncoordinated, less than four feet tall, and still forming neural connections. “I DO IT!” she’d say. And I’d reply “You can’t reach the gas pedal yet.” “NO, I DO IT!!” And then I’d strap her down in the back seat and explain to her that she doesn’t have a driver’s license.

She’s as willful as they come. What does one do with a toddler that has no sense of fear, pain, or self-preservation? The only option I see is a professional fighting career. We each have suffered a busted lip at the expense of her little hands (well, it was her head, but you get my point).

“Though she be but little, she is fierce.” – Shakespeare

Mushie, If You're Going to be a Fighter, You're Going to Need to Learn How to Cook!

Mushie, If You’re Going to be a Fighter, You’re Going to Need to Learn How to Cook!

I yelled at my son last week for the first time ever.  He’s four months shy of 3 years old and I held out for as long as I could.  The event was exasperatingly awful.  It was not at all how I pictured what being on the ‘other’ side would be like.  I don’t like to raise my voice (unless I’m arguing with my wife…because that’s a contest to see who can be the loudest!), but I felt that Worm needed to hear me (which doesn’t always equate to listening.)

I’m usually pretty relaxed as long as the kids are orderly.  (Read:  I haven’t been relaxed in over 2 and a half years.)  I don’t get rattled real easily.  But when I’ve had enough, I will overreact to certain situations.  This time warranted a little extra vocalization on my part.  (I channeled the “stern dad” voice!)

The day started out with breakfast for Worm.  That meant pouring milky cereal onto his tray and pants.  Ok, no problem.  When I tried to clean up, he cried and screamed for me to stop, as if I was ruining his ‘Mona Lisa’.  (If Worm is the next Jackson Pollock, I’ll be kicking myself later for stunting his artistic fervor.)  When the kid and floor were 80% clean, I offered Worm a refill.  He refused.  And found a way to whine about it.  An hour later, Worm stated that he was hungry and casually left off the part about being grumpy.  (It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that when you don’t eat, you get irritable until fed.  But the idea looks like it takes more than the mind of my toddler to grasp.)  I gave Worm some cheddar goldfish to satiate his belly only for him to decide that the dogs were more deserving than he.  I promptly took the remaining goldfish away from him and forced the dogs to vomit up their share.  (Just kidding.  I wanted to see if you were still paying attention.)  That situation didn’t go over well.  Apparently, I was interrupting Wormie’s reenactment of Jesus feeding his disciples with a few fish and bread.  I screwed up the miracle, the dogs were going to starve to death, and I would become the devil.  He cried for them…as loud as he could.  For the next 10 minutes.  (Does anyone else think that toddlers should have a mute button?  Add a reset and sleep button to them and I’d be happy.)

Lots of whining, crying, and horseplay (as my dad would say) happened between snack and lunch time, which was surprising since it had been about 15 hours since Worm’s last meal.  At any point, I thought his energy would fizzle and he would barely have strength to sit upright in a chair let alone gallop around the living room.  So when noon rolled around, I made a nice (and tasty, I might add) sandwich and cut it into perfectly ideal sized morsels.  I placed the food in front of him and even turned on the TV to ingrain mindless eating habits at an early, impressionable age.  Three episodes later, not a crumb had moved.  I asked Worm if he wanted to eat.  He said no.  I repeated the question two more times.  I got the same answer.  (No means no after the third time.  It’s one of my new parenting techniques…)

“F#*k it.” I said to myself for the 9th time that day, which had barely concluded the morning.  It’s time for nap.

I scooped Worm up from the play area, put him into his crib, closed the door, and left.

I was called back in multiple times over the course of an hour for: one ice in my water bottle; get me big ‘Mater; I need tissue for boogies; turn light on;  ‘what are you doing, daddy?’; I want to brush teeth; get me my train with blue wheels;  and a few other things that I can’t remember at the moment (because anger causes the brain to block out negative memories so that I will most likely repeat the same parenting mistakes again at a later time…sorry, I digress.)

I was pushed over the line.  The last request, unbeknownst to him at the time, had me fuming.  I began screaming from the hallway, before I entered his room, hurling my words through the door at him.  I was so pissed about all the whining, crying, and misery of the morning that my voice was reverberating off the walls.  When I saw him looking at me as he never had before, his eyes pasted open and jaw dropped I said one last thing “GO TO SLEEP NOW!”  He said nothing.  Immediately he turned and huddled himself into the corner of his bed and cried himself to sleep.  I walked out feeling like the biggest asshole in the world.  Sometimes I love parenting more than other times.

Worm, You're So Dramatic!

Worm, You’re So Dramatic!

Gavin – 29; Honeydaddy – 17 (Worm, what sucks is me getting to a place where I have to yell at you to stop doing what you’re doing.  But, it’s still my fault for getting so heated.)

Thank you for the gnarly cold and sinus infection, Worm.  I appreciate it.  You think that your nose is a slow drip juice machine for you to replenish your fluids when you’re thirsty.  Well (and I’m sure this is going to surprise you), as you get older, the fluids won’t drip from your nose (unless you’re sick) and you’re going to have to hydrate with water (or when we’ve contaminated all the water on earth, Coca-cola).

The first 5 on the list pertain to when you are sick, Worm.  The last 5 pertain to when you’ve beaten down my immune system by depriving me of sleep and inundating my orifices with your infected hands, feet, toys, and food.

  1. Green phlegm is not the most awesome thing to exit your body.  It’s not Jell-O.  And no, I don’t want to see it up close.
  2. When you’re not feeling well, I don’t mind cuddling with you…if you don’t mind me scrubbing you down with Lysol wipes first.
  3. The sad puppy dog face does not work when there’s a wet booger stretched between your nose and your ear.
  4. The back of your sister’s head is not the generally accepted definition of a ‘baby wipe’, although your interpretation of the term is a correct one.
  5. When you’ve managed to put your hands in/around your nose, mouth, and dirty diaper, I’m not really interested in seeing, smelling, touching, or tasting your finger(s).  (This applies to both when you’re sick AND when you’re well!)
  6. When you’ve gotten me sick, my answer to pretty much all of your questions is “No, I want to lay down and take a nap.”
  7. When I’m sick, having you jump on my stomach just isn’t the same amount of fun.  (Can’t you tell the difference between me wincing in pain and laughing?)
  8. When I’m sick, I don’t want to exert myself.  So don’t ask me to pull the friggin’ wagon with you, sissy and all your favorite toys around the block again!
  9. How is it that you get louder when I’m sick?  I promise I can still hear you.  It’s my nose that is plugged, not my ears!
  10. When I’m resting on the couch with my eyes closed, YOU DON’T HAVE TO WAKE ME UP EVERY FIVE MINUTES TO MAKE SURE I’M ALIVE!
Worm, You're So Literal!  (You Get That From Your Mother...)

Worm, You’re So Literal! (You Get That From Your Mother…)

Gavin – 28; Honeydaddy – 17 (I can’t seem to win this game!  Worm, you douse me with germs.  You don’t let me rest.  You don’t let me sleep.  And you don’t seem to have any less energy when you’re sick…and you sure as hell don’t have less energy when I’m sick!  Argh!)


Me vs. Gavin has survived its inaugural year!

We are happy to announce that we exceeded our expectations (which were zilch, by the way) in everything here on MVG!

I’m personally surprised that in 12 months, MVG got over 11,000 views!  (I have a feeling that half of those views are from my mother…)

For the people who continue to read about the ever stretching Worm, thank you!  We think he’s a special kid (who set the bar pretty high for his sissy) and we’re glad you think so too!

In 2013, we plan to:

  • double the number of children we own
  • half the amount of dogs we own (just kidding…)
  • give the website a facelift
  • take on some more cooking duties
  • find time to write a children’s book (will be looking for publishers soon…)
  • and lose sleep every step of the way!

Care to join us?  It is going to be a bit of a turbulent ride for the next year.  So order a few more vodkas from the flight attendant and hold on to the barf bag…we’re about to take flight!

Most read MVG post of 2012: Cow Grates and Cow Boys

Bye Bye 2012!

I’ve Already Forgotten About You 2012!

…other than the lottery!

Liebster Award!

In case you don’t know, the Liebster award is a blogger to blogger award to share the love of the blogosphere.  I received this nice shout-out from:

In order to accept it, I’ve got to nominate 3 other blogs so that my readers can visit and connect with other blogs that I find dear.  I’ve also got to answer 10 very, very personal questions and make a list of questions for the next winners.

I’m terribly humbled as well as surprised at the same time.  I really thought that people accidentally stumbled onto my daddyblog when their babies poked the right keys on mommy’s iPad.  I’m still shocked that people actually visit MVG…on purpose!

Without further ado, here are answers to the 10 questions asked of me:

  1. What do you think makes a good blog?  I think a good blog touches the heart and tickles the fancy.
  2. What made you start blogging?  I needed a way to let family and friends see my son Gavin grow up…as well as find something to keep my unyielding type A personality content.
  3. Cat person or dog person?  I’ve got two dogs and one of them would eat cats daily if we let him.  To reduce the bloodbath, kitty treats are restricted to weekends only.  That should be all you need to figure out the answer to this question.
  4. If you could change anything, anything at all, with the world as it is, what would it be and why?  I would wish for more tolerance in the world.  Tolerance for one another’s differences would make the world a better place for cute little puppies and stuff.
  5. What’s your favourite thing?  Driving my Land Cruiser barefoot.  Umm, I mean it’s a tie between my wife and my child.
  6. Popcorn and snack eating in the cinema, yay or nay?  Sure, why not?
  7. What, if anything, do you wish someone had told you about life when you were young?  I wish someone would have told me that it’s ok to make mistakes and that no one knows the answer to everything.  But since no one said anything like that to me, I set the bar really high for myself…and I cleared it!  Now I’m a posterchild for perfection!
  8. Best book you’ve read?  A New Earth by Eckhart Tolle.  I don’t read much, but when I do, it’s deep!
  9. If you could be the best at something what would it be?  I would like to be the best at showing compassion.  Or the best at checkers.  It’s a toss up.
  10. What’s your favourite recipe to cook? (And please do share it.)  I married a chef to keep from having to cook anymore.  I’m an eater, not a cooker!

10 questions for the next 3 bloggers:

  1. What part of your blog would you like to improve upon?
  2. If you could trade places with anyone for a day, who would it be?
  3. Do you put the peanut butter on the bread first or the jelly?
  4. Name 3 famous people that you would like to meet?
  5. Since you’re a writer, what’s your alcoholic beverage of choice?
  6. What do you wish you had more of?
  7. Which came first, the chicken or the egg?
  8. Do you have a ritual to inspire your blogging?  If so, what?
  9. What is your least favorite body part on a person?
  10. What is the meaning of life?

For the 3 next blogs, they all share a dad’s point of view.  If you’ll notice, the 3 blogs below are a mix of funny, inspiring, and real.  Just like “The Lion King” movie…

The Six Fingered Monkey

Gen X Daddy



By the way…

Gavin – 18; Dad – 9 (For every award I earn, I should get a point too! Right?)

…Baby #2 is a girl!

Hi Everyone! I Can’t Wait To Wreak Havoc and Chaos On My Older Brother, the Worm! I May Be Small, But I’m Feisty!

We’re multiplying!!!  This is what happens when we accidentally come in contact with alcohol water.  (Guess the movie reference?)

He or she is affectionately called #2.  (Not like Mr. Hanky, the Christmas Poo)  I know it’s unoriginal, but I don’t have time to come up with a cool name.  I’m way too busy right now.  (These words will come back to haunt me…)  Besides, #2 has plenty of time to be christened with an embarrassing name that he will despise for the rest of his life.

I’m very excited for this new baby.  Because now we have something to compare it to.  Before Gavin, we had no idea what our combined genes would spawn from Steph’s body.  It could have been an alien with 3 heads and tentacles.  Instead, we got the warm, wiggly, wonderful Worm!

After Worm was born, I seriously thought I would have this parenting thing figured out before the second baby.  Translation:  I was willing to subject our first child to unorthodox baby experiments in order to perfect my parenting techniques for later progeny.  But, I realize that I still don’t know what I’m doing.  I need a larger sample and more data.  Therefore, I have convinced myself that I must (in the interest of science) subject both Worm and #2 to more stick poking, cattle prodding, and laboratory testing.  But, I swear I’ll have parenting figured out by the third child…if the first two don’t drive us to tie our tubes first!

Here are 5 things that I’ll soon be able to say:

  1. This doesn’t add up.  How do two kids equals three times the work?
  2. Man, I change diapers so much that I even dream about it…
  3. Kids, the direct way to my heart is through laundry, vacuuming, and chores.  I can’t help it, it’s just the way my body is wired for affection.
  4. Children, only 40 more laps around the playground and we’ll go home…I promise.
  5. Where did my spare time go?


#2, give mommy a break and stop punching her uterus!  We watched you do it on the sonogram!

I know you want to get out and party with us, but you’ve got a little more cooking to do.  Daddy wants you to come out a little more well-done than your brother…

%d bloggers like this: