6:30am- Woken up to the sound of the radio announcer telling me that it's freezing outside.
6:45am- Drag butt out of bed, Do "Sniff test" on clean clothes, only to realize that the boy's dog has peed on them.
7:00am- Wake up Kid 1 and Kid 2, put puppy in bathroom lined with puppy pads. Accept that the puppy will shred said pads and then proceed to poo and pee all over the bathroom.
7:10am- Wake up Kid 1 and Kid 2 again, as they have helpfully fallen back to sleep.
7:15am- Wrestle Kid 2 into clothes, wake up Kid 1 again.
7:20am- Curse loudly as I realize that the dog peed in Kid 1's bed. Kid 1 laughs, and tells me I shouldn't curse. Pull sheets off bed and dump them in the hallway.
7:30am- Wake up kid 2 again, and drag them downstairs while the dog pounds on the bathroom door wanting to be let out. Look in to make sure the dog has food and water, only to have the dog escape and pee on kid 2 out of excitement.
7:35am-Make breakfast for kids while changing kid 2's clothes. Hastily butter toast, and give to kids with juice boxes.
7:40am- Run through morning checklist... vitamins for kids, coats, hats, bookbags, glasses, shoes.
7:45am- Run through writing checklist... laptop, charger, notebook, headphones, ipod, money for iced mochas.
7:46am- Realize kid 2 is covered in butter, crumbs and apple juice. Rethink "toast and juice" breakfast policy. Frantically change kid 2 for third time.
7:50am- Leave house. Kid 1 not done with toast and juice, and takes it with him. Chase kids around parking lot and into car.
7:53am-Warm up car, consider moving closer to equator. Realize I forgot all my writing stuff. Run back upstairs to grab it.
7:54am- Get back into car, Kid 2 covered in crumbs again, Kid 1 laughing about "food fight" they have had in the 28 seconds I was gone.
8:00am- Arrive at school, clean crumbs off of kid2 with baby wipes, strain back as kid 2 practices passive resistance in protest of school. Glare at kid 1 when he asks "Why are you whispering to yourself about boarding schools?"
8:03am- Drag kid 2 into school building and hand him off to teacher. See kid 1 is still outside in 20 degree weather poking an anthill with a stick.
8:04am- Drag kid 1 into school, while answering questions about ant exoskeletons and magnifying glasses.
8:06am- Return to car. Breathe.
8:10am- Get to coffee shop, realize that I forgot to charge iPod. Order iced mocha. Show Barrista how the coffee shop is listed in the acknowledgments of my new novel. Bask in mock adoration.
8:15am- Begin checking Facebook and E-mail, respond appropriately.
9:00am- Compose witty status update. Order second iced mocha.
9:15am- Decide to write blog entry.
9:20am- Realize that exactly .02% of my day thus far has involved writing. Open Microsoft word.
9:21 am- Check Facebook again, just in case someone has commented on my status update.
9:30am- Wonder how other writers "do it".
9:45am- Finish blog entry. Try to find muse at the bottom of my iced mocha and work on draft of second novel.
Showing posts with label parenting. Show all posts
Showing posts with label parenting. Show all posts
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Tuesday, March 03, 2009
Beware the minds of the youth...
One of the joys of my new Househubby existence is that I get to spend a lot more time with the kids than usual. After getting Pint Size to his bus each morning, I have the pleasure of sitting in the car with Short Stuff for about twenty minutes while we wait for his school to open. Some of the conversations I have with him during this Father-son bonding time are real mind-twisters... like this morning, for instance...
Short stuff was looking around in the cupholder for loose change when he suddenly held up a penny.
"Hey! This penny has Abraham Lincoln on it!" he said, astonished.
"That's right." I said snickering, "They all do."
"We learned about him in class! He's my favorite."
"Really?" I asked, "Why is that?"
"He was very smart, and handsome." Short Stuff said with an authoritative nod.
"You're right... he was a smart guy." I said, "What else did you learn about him?"
"He was very brave, and died a long time ago."
"Do you know how he died?"
"Old age."
"No, Shorty... President Lincoln was shot. He was the first American President to be killed in office."
Short Stuff's eyes went wide with anger. "What? By who?"
"A very bad man named John Wilkes Booth."
This enraged Short Stuff even further. "Well, They need to make him pay!"
"He did pay a long time ago, kiddo. They killed him for killing President Lincoln."
"Well, I need to find him and kill him again!"
"Son... this all happened a very long time ago. He's as dead as it gets."
"No! I need to kill him again so he won't come back as a zombie!"
Right then I was saved by the school bell from laughing in the poor kid's face.
Short stuff was looking around in the cupholder for loose change when he suddenly held up a penny.
"Hey! This penny has Abraham Lincoln on it!" he said, astonished.
"That's right." I said snickering, "They all do."
"We learned about him in class! He's my favorite."
"Really?" I asked, "Why is that?"
"He was very smart, and handsome." Short Stuff said with an authoritative nod.
"You're right... he was a smart guy." I said, "What else did you learn about him?"
"He was very brave, and died a long time ago."
"Do you know how he died?"
"Old age."
"No, Shorty... President Lincoln was shot. He was the first American President to be killed in office."
Short Stuff's eyes went wide with anger. "What? By who?"
"A very bad man named John Wilkes Booth."
This enraged Short Stuff even further. "Well, They need to make him pay!"
"He did pay a long time ago, kiddo. They killed him for killing President Lincoln."
"Well, I need to find him and kill him again!"
"Son... this all happened a very long time ago. He's as dead as it gets."
"No! I need to kill him again so he won't come back as a zombie!"
Right then I was saved by the school bell from laughing in the poor kid's face.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Strange dreams indeed...
This post is dedicated to the queen of weird dreams, my pal Stacey.
The other night, my loving wife fed me a meatloaf sandwich in bed to make up for the fact that she was making me sit through "RuPaul's Drag Race" before bedtime. It is a sad fact that if Silverfox has one weakness, it is for cheesy reality shows featuring drag queens being catty to one another. Me, I couldn't care less which dude looks more like a chick, and I fell asleep thinking about how Pint Size needed his school uniforms washed the next day.
My subconcious (as anyone who has slept in my vacinity will tell you) is notorious for being suggestable when I'm sleeping. The combination of drag queens, meatloaf, and my worries about my youngest son led to a dream that kind of looked like the following:
In the dream, Pint Size was a contestant on the show, and came toddling down the runway in front of RuPaul and his/her judges in a lovely blue chiffon dress. He paused for a moment at the end of the runway and yelled "DA DA DA-DA DA!" at them before toddling right back. Sadly, Pint size got eliminated at the end of the show, and started crying loudly when RuPaul told him to "sashay away" for good.
When I woke up the next morning, I set our DVR to record the RuPaul show for Silverfox, so she will never need to watch it in our bedroom again.
Monday, November 24, 2008
Pint Size has added to his skillset...
Yesterday, Silverfox and I were playing Rock Band when we smelled a horrid stink. A stench, really... coming from Pint Size.
This in and of itself isn't remarkable... Pint Size drops one in his diaper all the time, to the horror of the noses of those around him. So, we finished the song we were on, and went to change his diaper.
There was no poop to be found.
This means one of two things... either Pint Size has suddenly gained the ability to produce horrible flatus, or during his time with his no-good Bio-dad he was forced to learn to change his own diaper out of necessity. (like he was forced to learn to talk)
I choose to believe the latter, because the thought of him poofing baby powder at his own butt makes me chuckle.
Still, it makes me wonder what he would learn if we left him with the Bio-jerk for a full month... he'd probably be able to fill his own bottles at 4 am and cook himself breakfast in the morning.
This in and of itself isn't remarkable... Pint Size drops one in his diaper all the time, to the horror of the noses of those around him. So, we finished the song we were on, and went to change his diaper.
There was no poop to be found.
This means one of two things... either Pint Size has suddenly gained the ability to produce horrible flatus, or during his time with his no-good Bio-dad he was forced to learn to change his own diaper out of necessity. (like he was forced to learn to talk)
I choose to believe the latter, because the thought of him poofing baby powder at his own butt makes me chuckle.
Still, it makes me wonder what he would learn if we left him with the Bio-jerk for a full month... he'd probably be able to fill his own bottles at 4 am and cook himself breakfast in the morning.
Sunday, November 23, 2008
To Short Stuff, at age 26 and Pint Size, at age 23:
Boys,
Let me apologize now for all the mistakes I'm gonna make in the next twenty years... but I want you both to know that I only had your best interests at heart... I think I'm a fair man, but I am also a worrier and overprotective... but there is no way either of you is getting a car out of me till you're eighteen, and even then, no eating Nachos in the car. Ask your Uncle Chris why.
Short Stuff... Right now you are six, and a lot of fun to be around. Your favorite thing in the world is Star Wars, and your favorite toy is your Legos. Your mother and I joke all the time that you will grow up to be a fanboy like your parents... so chances are you're helping us plan Coastcon 52 right now. You're really smart, to the point where your first grade teacher tells us you have problems in school because you didn't want to pair up with other kids you feel slow down your learning. You just learned how to read books on your own, and your favorite ones are about animals. You also have a great empathy about those around you, and I have a feeling no matter where life takes you, you'll wind up helping people. My guess is that you'll be either a Psychologist or a Vet by the time you read this. I know that whatever you choose, you'll make me proud of you.
Pint Size... Right now you are three and just learning to walk and talk, but you have a wonderful happiness about you that is infectious. Your favorite show is the Wonder Pets, and your favorite nursery rhyme is "itsy bitsy spider". Your favorite toy is an animatronic Elmo that you use to practice your Lucha Libre moves on. You have a fascination with belts and straps, and will play endlessly with one if you get your hands on it. Despite your being a person of special needs, I am convinced that you will be a Scientist when you grow up, because you have a fascination with how the world around you works that I think goes beyond simple childhood curiosity. A lot of people around us that care about you worry about how you will get by as an adult with the challenges that life has presented you, but not me and Mom. We both have a strange faith that you'll do just fine, and make us just as proud as your brother will.
Twenty years isn't as long as it seems at your age. As I write these words, you are already developing the personalities that I know have made you the exceptional men that I know you will become. Your Mom and I are thinking about adding another child to our already unusual family, primarily because of all the joy and laughter you both bring us on a daily basis. I have only been your Stepdad for about a year, but you both mean more to me than I think I will ever be able to express. I hope that one day, you will both choose to take my last name as your own, but I'll totally understand if you choose not to.
Really, just think about it, okay? No pressure... Just remember that you both have several kicks to the crotch coming to you from your old man in revenge for these first years as your Dad, and even if my legs don't work, I'll find a goddamn bat. If you're both Cerios by the time you read this, I may reconsider. Either way, when you have kids of your own, grandpa's gonna spend his weekends teaching them how to take a knee to Dad's groin.
Love,
Dad, age 38.
Let me apologize now for all the mistakes I'm gonna make in the next twenty years... but I want you both to know that I only had your best interests at heart... I think I'm a fair man, but I am also a worrier and overprotective... but there is no way either of you is getting a car out of me till you're eighteen, and even then, no eating Nachos in the car. Ask your Uncle Chris why.
Short Stuff... Right now you are six, and a lot of fun to be around. Your favorite thing in the world is Star Wars, and your favorite toy is your Legos. Your mother and I joke all the time that you will grow up to be a fanboy like your parents... so chances are you're helping us plan Coastcon 52 right now. You're really smart, to the point where your first grade teacher tells us you have problems in school because you didn't want to pair up with other kids you feel slow down your learning. You just learned how to read books on your own, and your favorite ones are about animals. You also have a great empathy about those around you, and I have a feeling no matter where life takes you, you'll wind up helping people. My guess is that you'll be either a Psychologist or a Vet by the time you read this. I know that whatever you choose, you'll make me proud of you.
Pint Size... Right now you are three and just learning to walk and talk, but you have a wonderful happiness about you that is infectious. Your favorite show is the Wonder Pets, and your favorite nursery rhyme is "itsy bitsy spider". Your favorite toy is an animatronic Elmo that you use to practice your Lucha Libre moves on. You have a fascination with belts and straps, and will play endlessly with one if you get your hands on it. Despite your being a person of special needs, I am convinced that you will be a Scientist when you grow up, because you have a fascination with how the world around you works that I think goes beyond simple childhood curiosity. A lot of people around us that care about you worry about how you will get by as an adult with the challenges that life has presented you, but not me and Mom. We both have a strange faith that you'll do just fine, and make us just as proud as your brother will.
Twenty years isn't as long as it seems at your age. As I write these words, you are already developing the personalities that I know have made you the exceptional men that I know you will become. Your Mom and I are thinking about adding another child to our already unusual family, primarily because of all the joy and laughter you both bring us on a daily basis. I have only been your Stepdad for about a year, but you both mean more to me than I think I will ever be able to express. I hope that one day, you will both choose to take my last name as your own, but I'll totally understand if you choose not to.
Really, just think about it, okay? No pressure... Just remember that you both have several kicks to the crotch coming to you from your old man in revenge for these first years as your Dad, and even if my legs don't work, I'll find a goddamn bat. If you're both Cerios by the time you read this, I may reconsider. Either way, when you have kids of your own, grandpa's gonna spend his weekends teaching them how to take a knee to Dad's groin.
Love,
Dad, age 38.
Saturday, November 22, 2008
And to think, I joined this family willingly...
Three things that I have need to note:
1) Short Stuff has a habit of butting in whenever Silverfox and I are arguing within earshot. His point is always "You shouldn't yell. You're married now. You have to love each other! It's required." Makes us laugh and calm down every time. We've taken to calling him our 6-year-old marriage councilor.
2) Silverfox gave her brother a truck she had when he got out of jail as a "I have faith that you're a responsible adult now" gift. Two weeks ago, he totaled it by running into the back of a parked police car. His reason? He was eating Nachos.
3) We picked up Pint Size from his bio-dad today, as he had been staying with him during Silverfoxes recovery. Much to our delight and surprise, he has learned to speak English. When his mom offered him a bottle today, he said clearly and distinctly "Yes, I want a baa." Our theory is that the bio-dad is such a horrid father that Pint Size was forced for the first time to use language if he wanted to get his point across.
1) Short Stuff has a habit of butting in whenever Silverfox and I are arguing within earshot. His point is always "You shouldn't yell. You're married now. You have to love each other! It's required." Makes us laugh and calm down every time. We've taken to calling him our 6-year-old marriage councilor.
2) Silverfox gave her brother a truck she had when he got out of jail as a "I have faith that you're a responsible adult now" gift. Two weeks ago, he totaled it by running into the back of a parked police car. His reason? He was eating Nachos.
3) We picked up Pint Size from his bio-dad today, as he had been staying with him during Silverfoxes recovery. Much to our delight and surprise, he has learned to speak English. When his mom offered him a bottle today, he said clearly and distinctly "Yes, I want a baa." Our theory is that the bio-dad is such a horrid father that Pint Size was forced for the first time to use language if he wanted to get his point across.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Real Conversations...
The following conversation took place this morning, as I was getting Short Stuff ready for school:
Me: Okay, kiddo... get your jacket. It's almost time to leave.
Short Stuff: I don't want to wear a jacket.
Me: Too bad. It's cold out this morning, and you have to wear a jacket.
SS: No I don't. The President says I have a choice.
Me: Oh, really?
SS: That's right. I Don't have to wear a jacket if I don't want to.
Me: Sadly son, that assumes this house is a democracy. You live in a dictatorship, and I am the supreme leader. Now, put on that jacket before I exercise my choice to punish you!
(Begrudgingly, Short Stuff puts on his jacket.)
Me: Good... wait a minute... where are your shoes, boy?
SS: My teacher also taught us about pastive resissance. (6-year-old-ese for passive resistance)
Me: Sigh....
Me: Okay, kiddo... get your jacket. It's almost time to leave.
Short Stuff: I don't want to wear a jacket.
Me: Too bad. It's cold out this morning, and you have to wear a jacket.
SS: No I don't. The President says I have a choice.
Me: Oh, really?
SS: That's right. I Don't have to wear a jacket if I don't want to.
Me: Sadly son, that assumes this house is a democracy. You live in a dictatorship, and I am the supreme leader. Now, put on that jacket before I exercise my choice to punish you!
(Begrudgingly, Short Stuff puts on his jacket.)
Me: Good... wait a minute... where are your shoes, boy?
SS: My teacher also taught us about pastive resissance. (6-year-old-ese for passive resistance)
Me: Sigh....
Friday, November 07, 2008
The Wife is okay...and the children are trying to kill me.
Today was the much-anticipated surgery on Silverfoxes lower back, and she came through it just fine. She's sore and resting right now, and it looks like she's gonna make a full recovery... but she will be on her back for the next few days.
Last night, Silverfox had intended on making good use of our last night before our imposed three weeks of no sex... we were going to send the kids off to bed, and then make with the boom-chicka-wah-wah, but it seems the children had other plans. First, Short Stuff, while playing around running back and forth past my recliner, stumbles and head butts me right in the part of my jaw where I had the two teeth removed on Wednesday.
As I lay there howling in pain, clutching the side of my face, Pint Size pulls his way up onto my lap, and does this to my crotch:
Last night, Silverfox had intended on making good use of our last night before our imposed three weeks of no sex... we were going to send the kids off to bed, and then make with the boom-chicka-wah-wah, but it seems the children had other plans. First, Short Stuff, while playing around running back and forth past my recliner, stumbles and head butts me right in the part of my jaw where I had the two teeth removed on Wednesday.
As I lay there howling in pain, clutching the side of my face, Pint Size pulls his way up onto my lap, and does this to my crotch:
While I'm sure the Hulkster would be proud, I nearly passed out. I told my Dad about it today when I called him to let him know Cheri was okay, and he just snickered and said "Welcome to fatherhood." I spent the rest of the night with one ice pack on my groin and one on my face.
Needless to say, there was no matress durability testing at casa Cerio last night.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
School spirit week for Short Stuff:-)
Thursday, October 23, 2008
I gots the mad pumpkin carving skills:-)
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
After his bathroom fun...
Pint size is such a goober.
Friday, October 03, 2008
Fun with photoshop and Pint Size...
For those of you that haven't heard yet, Silverfox is planning a Halloween/ Rock Band 2 jam session party on October 25th, where she encourages everyone to dress as their favorite dead (or alive) rock star. She asked me to make some invitations to this event, and I decided to alter some pictures of the kids to use on the invites. After all, I really set the bar kind of high with the wedding invitations...
I started with the following picture of Pint Size:
Cute, isn't he? So, in keeping with the rock and roll theme of the party, I changed him into his true self... a member of the KISS army since 2005:
Yeah, he wants to Rock and Roll all night, alright.
To accomplish this effect, I had to airbrush out his bangs though... and I looked at it and thought "Boy, he looks like a Vulcan!" Leading to this pic:
Once you start on these things, it's really tough to stop... Here he is as a Klingon:
No Melinda, he still can't say "Q'uplah".
Then I said to myself "Hey, wouldn't Pint Size make a cute unstoppable killing machine from the future?":
Yeah... I have way too much time on my hands at work...
I started with the following picture of Pint Size:
Cute, isn't he? So, in keeping with the rock and roll theme of the party, I changed him into his true self... a member of the KISS army since 2005:
Yeah, he wants to Rock and Roll all night, alright.To accomplish this effect, I had to airbrush out his bangs though... and I looked at it and thought "Boy, he looks like a Vulcan!" Leading to this pic:
Once you start on these things, it's really tough to stop... Here he is as a Klingon:
No Melinda, he still can't say "Q'uplah".Then I said to myself "Hey, wouldn't Pint Size make a cute unstoppable killing machine from the future?":
Yeah... I have way too much time on my hands at work...
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Saturday is Short Stuff's 6th birthday... sort of...
Saturday we are celebrating Short Stuff's 6th birthday, even though his actual birthday was on the 16th. You see, Silverfox and one of her closest friends gave birth on the same day in the same hospital, and so they try each year to co-ordinate the parties so that they don't conflict. This year, Short Stuff got the short end of the stick by having to have his party two weeks after the fact.
Shorty is a huge Star Wars fan, and so we're having a Star Wars themed party, complete with appearances by Darth Vader (Short Stuff's fave) and a few Stormtroopers. It should be a lot of fun, rain or shine. Afterward, the adults are intending on going back to Casa Kahunah and hoisting a few while playing a few rounds of Redneck Life and Rock Band. It promises to be pretty awesome.
I've been looking online for some games for the kids to play and I think that I have a few activities that they'll appreciate, but Silverfox doesn't seem to want me to let the kids play "Pass the Thermal Detonator" for some reason. Maybe I should go buy a few Hand Grenades (the drink, not the bomb) and call them thermal detonators... that way even if the kids find the party boring as hell, we adults in attendance will still be entertained. I also thought about doing a Jedi training course where the kids would have to swat at bubbles with lightsabers.
So, any game suggestions?
Shorty is a huge Star Wars fan, and so we're having a Star Wars themed party, complete with appearances by Darth Vader (Short Stuff's fave) and a few Stormtroopers. It should be a lot of fun, rain or shine. Afterward, the adults are intending on going back to Casa Kahunah and hoisting a few while playing a few rounds of Redneck Life and Rock Band. It promises to be pretty awesome.
I've been looking online for some games for the kids to play and I think that I have a few activities that they'll appreciate, but Silverfox doesn't seem to want me to let the kids play "Pass the Thermal Detonator" for some reason. Maybe I should go buy a few Hand Grenades (the drink, not the bomb) and call them thermal detonators... that way even if the kids find the party boring as hell, we adults in attendance will still be entertained. I also thought about doing a Jedi training course where the kids would have to swat at bubbles with lightsabers.
So, any game suggestions?
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Saturday, May 24, 2008
My big fat greek post...
Today I feel I have officially turned a proverbial corner. I have decided for the first time in my life that I need to lose weight.
I know, another idle diet promise from a fat guy that takes great pride in being fat... but this time is different. As many of my friends will tell you, I kind of enjoy being fat. I also like tearing down the stereotype that you can't be fat and healthy... my recent bout with pneumonia aside, I am both... Furthermore, I feel that my size has always served the vital function of keeping shallow people at arms length, allowing me to develop more true friendships than most people will ever have the pleasure of having. I also really like the whole "fat and jolly" thing that most people associate with the overweight. I am fat. I am also jolly. A pretty good fit, all things considered. I have certainly never been ashamed of something that makes me... well, me.
So, what's changed? Let me tell you about my day...
Today was the first day of the Greek festival here in New Orleans. I look forward to getting my fix of Greek food every year, and have always had a good time doing it. This year me, Silverfox and Short Stuff decided to make a family outing of it.
There are a lot more kids activities to do at the Greek fest in recent years. They've added a few moon walks, a sand pit, face painting, a climbing wall, and several other things for families to do. One of these things is Canoeing on Bayou St. John.
I will admit that I haven't been in a canoe in years... not since college, at any rate... But I enjoy canoeing... I'm actually fairly good at it. I know how to steer one, what to do if you capsize, and how to get into one from the water. (thank you boy scouts) In short, while I may be a little rusty, I am probably a better canoer (sp?) than your average Joe shmoe off the street that has been mixing his Grappa and his Ouzu all day.
So, Silverfox and I decided that we would take Short Stuff for a ride out on the bayou. It didn't hurt that under the Filmore street bridge is a Geocache that is only accessible from the water... Silverfox was down with the idea on that basis alone. We had actually been planning for about a week to do this. Short Stuff was pretty psyched about it too, and he kept asking when we were going in the canoe from the moment I pulled up in front of the festival to the moment we walked up to the rental tent.
There were waivers that we had to sign, and we happily signed them. there were fees to be paid, and we happily paid them. We even borrowed plastic baggies to put our cell phones in, just in case. As I stepped forward in anticipation, I was approached by a gruff old man.
"I'm sorry, but I can't let you have a canoe." he said.
It took a second for me to realize what he said. "Huh?" I said, "why not?"
"I don't have a life jacket that will fit you." he said.
"Okay..." I replied, looking at the long adjusting straps on the life jackets, "I'm an excellent swimmer, and the bayou is only five feet deep at it's deepest, but I understand that you have liability issues. Can I at least try one on and we'll see?"
"No. I'm not giving you a canoe." He said.
"Look, I've been in a canoe before... I know what I'm doing."
"No." he said, getting a little nasty with his tone, "I've seen guys your size capsize too many times to let you in one of my canoes. Plus that, you'll break the seats. I don't want to deal with that."
I admit I was at a loss for words at this. Anyone who has ever been in a canoe knows that you don't actually sit on the seats in a canoe... you kneel on the hull and sort of lean against the seat, never putting you full weight on it.
"Excuse me?" I said.
"You're too heavy." he said, like that was what I wasn't understanding.
"First of all..." I said, trying to keep my tone civil, "You have no idea how much I weigh. Secondly, you're trying to tell me that I'm gonna capsize when you have no idea what my skill level is with this based solely on my size. Doesn't that strike you as a little bigoted?"
"Just give him his money back!" he barked at the kids working the table as he walked away.
I stood there for a moment as Silverfox took our money back, not really sure what to do. I thought for a moment about making a scene... but I realized that this guy was just being an ass and there was little I could do to change his mind. I mentally chalked it up to his stupidity and took a deep breath and walked away.
Then I saw Short Stuff's face. "We're not going on the canoe?" he said in a very small voice, with tears welling up in his eyes.
I had to explain to this child that it wasn't his fault, that he had been a very good boy, but it was my fault we weren't going on the canoe ride we had promised him.
Never again.
I know, another idle diet promise from a fat guy that takes great pride in being fat... but this time is different. As many of my friends will tell you, I kind of enjoy being fat. I also like tearing down the stereotype that you can't be fat and healthy... my recent bout with pneumonia aside, I am both... Furthermore, I feel that my size has always served the vital function of keeping shallow people at arms length, allowing me to develop more true friendships than most people will ever have the pleasure of having. I also really like the whole "fat and jolly" thing that most people associate with the overweight. I am fat. I am also jolly. A pretty good fit, all things considered. I have certainly never been ashamed of something that makes me... well, me.
So, what's changed? Let me tell you about my day...
Today was the first day of the Greek festival here in New Orleans. I look forward to getting my fix of Greek food every year, and have always had a good time doing it. This year me, Silverfox and Short Stuff decided to make a family outing of it.
There are a lot more kids activities to do at the Greek fest in recent years. They've added a few moon walks, a sand pit, face painting, a climbing wall, and several other things for families to do. One of these things is Canoeing on Bayou St. John.
I will admit that I haven't been in a canoe in years... not since college, at any rate... But I enjoy canoeing... I'm actually fairly good at it. I know how to steer one, what to do if you capsize, and how to get into one from the water. (thank you boy scouts) In short, while I may be a little rusty, I am probably a better canoer (sp?) than your average Joe shmoe off the street that has been mixing his Grappa and his Ouzu all day.
So, Silverfox and I decided that we would take Short Stuff for a ride out on the bayou. It didn't hurt that under the Filmore street bridge is a Geocache that is only accessible from the water... Silverfox was down with the idea on that basis alone. We had actually been planning for about a week to do this. Short Stuff was pretty psyched about it too, and he kept asking when we were going in the canoe from the moment I pulled up in front of the festival to the moment we walked up to the rental tent.
There were waivers that we had to sign, and we happily signed them. there were fees to be paid, and we happily paid them. We even borrowed plastic baggies to put our cell phones in, just in case. As I stepped forward in anticipation, I was approached by a gruff old man.
"I'm sorry, but I can't let you have a canoe." he said.
It took a second for me to realize what he said. "Huh?" I said, "why not?"
"I don't have a life jacket that will fit you." he said.
"Okay..." I replied, looking at the long adjusting straps on the life jackets, "I'm an excellent swimmer, and the bayou is only five feet deep at it's deepest, but I understand that you have liability issues. Can I at least try one on and we'll see?"
"No. I'm not giving you a canoe." He said.
"Look, I've been in a canoe before... I know what I'm doing."
"No." he said, getting a little nasty with his tone, "I've seen guys your size capsize too many times to let you in one of my canoes. Plus that, you'll break the seats. I don't want to deal with that."
I admit I was at a loss for words at this. Anyone who has ever been in a canoe knows that you don't actually sit on the seats in a canoe... you kneel on the hull and sort of lean against the seat, never putting you full weight on it.
"Excuse me?" I said.
"You're too heavy." he said, like that was what I wasn't understanding.
"First of all..." I said, trying to keep my tone civil, "You have no idea how much I weigh. Secondly, you're trying to tell me that I'm gonna capsize when you have no idea what my skill level is with this based solely on my size. Doesn't that strike you as a little bigoted?"
"Just give him his money back!" he barked at the kids working the table as he walked away.
I stood there for a moment as Silverfox took our money back, not really sure what to do. I thought for a moment about making a scene... but I realized that this guy was just being an ass and there was little I could do to change his mind. I mentally chalked it up to his stupidity and took a deep breath and walked away.
Then I saw Short Stuff's face. "We're not going on the canoe?" he said in a very small voice, with tears welling up in his eyes.
I had to explain to this child that it wasn't his fault, that he had been a very good boy, but it was my fault we weren't going on the canoe ride we had promised him.
Never again.
Thursday, January 10, 2008
Adventures in parenting...
From the Big Book of parental lessons, Volume 1... Why you should never give your child a cardboard mailing tube:
Pint Size had endless fun wacking me with it over and over again. You'll note that instead of helping me avoid further pummelling, Silverfox took pictures. Clicking on it will pull up the animated version of my humiliation at the hands of a toddler. I refuse to take that test circulating the internet of "How many 5 year olds could you take in a fight". The answer is none.
Pint Size had endless fun wacking me with it over and over again. You'll note that instead of helping me avoid further pummelling, Silverfox took pictures. Clicking on it will pull up the animated version of my humiliation at the hands of a toddler. I refuse to take that test circulating the internet of "How many 5 year olds could you take in a fight". The answer is none.
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
Parenting, day 7... or, Sleep? Who needs sleep?
Important parenting tip: When you're sick with a cold, you mope a bit, beg your significant other to make you some chicken soup, and stay in bed. When your child is sick, They scream their freaking head off at the inconvenience of having to breathe through their mouth.
Pint Size is sick with a head cold. It wouldn't have been so bad had we realized this before we put him to bed last night... You see, I think he probably could have dealt with the whole "breathe through the mouth" thing, but having his nose clogged meant he couldn't drink out of his bottle easily, which meant he was not only sick, but hungry.
Yeah, at that point, I'd be screaming about it too. It was an ugly cycle. He'd cry, I'd get up and give him his bottle and sing to him a little (the kid loves my Barry Manilow medly... don't tell Silverfox.) Short Stuff would wake up from the noise, complaining that his brother is being bad, and demand to watch another cartoon of two, which would finally put him back to sleep. Pint Size would act content till I left the room, then chuck the bottle from his bunk, and start crying again cry again... I'd come in and get him his bottle, Short Stuff would wake up again, and the whole thing would go round and round like that. By the fifth time, I woke Silverfox.
"Pint Size won't sleep, and I've tried everything I know..." (admittedly not much... but there are only so many times I can sing 'Mandy'.) "I'd rather not be up all night playing fetch while he cries."
"Welcome to being a parent, Rob." She said, shuffling her way to the kids' room, "learn to love caffeine and B12."
I flopped into bed, exhausted, but could hear on the baby monitor that Silverfox wasn't having much more luck than I was. Finally, she brought him into our room so he wouldn't wake Short Stuff again.
Now, I have slept under some extreme circumstances... I've fallen asleep on the number 1 train, completely missing the turn at south ferry. I've nodded off in a stadium full of screaming fans rabid for Eric Clapton. I've slept through hurricanes, noreasters, nearby locomotives, and plane rides. None of them had anything on Pint Size's fit last night. Silverfox brought him to day care about an hour before I was supposed to wake up. I dozed off for ten minutes before Short Stuff came into my room complaining his room was too scary to turn on his video game, and he was also fairly certain it was almost time for school.
(Sigh)
Pint Size is sick with a head cold. It wouldn't have been so bad had we realized this before we put him to bed last night... You see, I think he probably could have dealt with the whole "breathe through the mouth" thing, but having his nose clogged meant he couldn't drink out of his bottle easily, which meant he was not only sick, but hungry.
Yeah, at that point, I'd be screaming about it too. It was an ugly cycle. He'd cry, I'd get up and give him his bottle and sing to him a little (the kid loves my Barry Manilow medly... don't tell Silverfox.) Short Stuff would wake up from the noise, complaining that his brother is being bad, and demand to watch another cartoon of two, which would finally put him back to sleep. Pint Size would act content till I left the room, then chuck the bottle from his bunk, and start crying again cry again... I'd come in and get him his bottle, Short Stuff would wake up again, and the whole thing would go round and round like that. By the fifth time, I woke Silverfox.
"Pint Size won't sleep, and I've tried everything I know..." (admittedly not much... but there are only so many times I can sing 'Mandy'.) "I'd rather not be up all night playing fetch while he cries."
"Welcome to being a parent, Rob." She said, shuffling her way to the kids' room, "learn to love caffeine and B12."
I flopped into bed, exhausted, but could hear on the baby monitor that Silverfox wasn't having much more luck than I was. Finally, she brought him into our room so he wouldn't wake Short Stuff again.
Now, I have slept under some extreme circumstances... I've fallen asleep on the number 1 train, completely missing the turn at south ferry. I've nodded off in a stadium full of screaming fans rabid for Eric Clapton. I've slept through hurricanes, noreasters, nearby locomotives, and plane rides. None of them had anything on Pint Size's fit last night. Silverfox brought him to day care about an hour before I was supposed to wake up. I dozed off for ten minutes before Short Stuff came into my room complaining his room was too scary to turn on his video game, and he was also fairly certain it was almost time for school.
(Sigh)
Monday, November 05, 2007
Parenting, Day 1.
Today, my day started just before dawn as sensed someone hovering over my bed. I gently pulled up my sleep mask to see a very wide-eyed 5 year old staring back at me in the darkened room.
"I can't find mommy!" Short Stuff sniffed loudly. Silverfox had left for work about an hour before.
"She went to work kiddo." I said, not letting on that the whole scene reminded me of Children of the corn. "Now go back to bed, buddy."
"I can't reach the light. (sniff)" he said, "to see the ladder."
So, like the good step-pop I am, I dutifully got out of bed and escorted my young charge back to his room. After turning the light on, he was asleep within seconds.
I'm still unsure about this "being a Dad"... the whole instant family thing is something I'm still getting used to. I am sure however that I would do anything for Silverfox's kids, and I guess that's half the battle. Very few people, after all, would be able to get me out of bed at 5 am to turn on a light for them.
"I can't find mommy!" Short Stuff sniffed loudly. Silverfox had left for work about an hour before.
"She went to work kiddo." I said, not letting on that the whole scene reminded me of Children of the corn. "Now go back to bed, buddy."
"I can't reach the light. (sniff)" he said, "to see the ladder."
So, like the good step-pop I am, I dutifully got out of bed and escorted my young charge back to his room. After turning the light on, he was asleep within seconds.
I'm still unsure about this "being a Dad"... the whole instant family thing is something I'm still getting used to. I am sure however that I would do anything for Silverfox's kids, and I guess that's half the battle. Very few people, after all, would be able to get me out of bed at 5 am to turn on a light for them.
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