Reading

I love to read. I have tried reading to my daughter several times, even when she was only a few weeks old. I'd read to her profiles of NFL players as I was debating building a fantasy team, I have read at least the first couple of chapters of The Hobbit to her, and I have read Bible verses as well.

My kid is beginning to understanding something about me, it would seem: Reading is kind of a big deal.

Either that, or she's just imitating me. I have noticed that she loves to sit down and "read" through her books. If I've read to her, she will sometimes sit down and, in her own version of English, recite the entire book. Where she doesn't remember something I've read, she'll sometimes just make up some gibberish and continue on.

Other times, she'll simply sit and look at pictures.

Today, I had a lot of reading to get done. I've started something here in Indianapolis that, well, is kind of important to me. Reading up and studying some things are a pretty big part of this new something. I won't go into a lot of detail here (I've started another blog to talk about that), and I want to dedicate a whole entry here to how Evie is a big help during this other thing... well, like I said, I'll get into that another time. Anyway, I had some reading/studying to do today, and when I went upstairs to get some of my "homework" done, I noticed Evie was awake from her nap, curled up in bed with a book. I told her to grab some more books and she could read with me in bed. So she went to her shelf, grabbed a few books, and waited to sit down and read with me.

So we read together. Well, I read, and she looked at pictures and made noises.

It was fun.

Back on the Wagon

I lost about 30 pounds this year. I would probably have lost more if I were to have kept up with the running after I finished the Warrior Dash. So now I'm getting back on that bandwagon of runners so I can continue in my pursuit of better health.

Well, isn't the weather too bad, blustery, and downright cold to be running?

You forget that I started running in February this year, when our winter was at its coldest. I hate running in intense heat. I ran around the White River Canal here in Indianapolis over the summer, and I'd swear I sweat a whole person out of me by the time I was done.

Its not that I don't like sweating, I just don't like the heat that makes me sweat. Especially when there's no wind. Man, I just don't like that at all.

Call it laziness if you like, but it is what it is. I don't like running in extreme heat. I'd rather be jogging when the thermometer says its closer to freezing than having a heat stroke. Call me crazy, too, its literally less sweat off my back.

The motivation to get back at it came when I was realizing my daughter is getting heavier and I was getting more winded than I had been just carrying her up the stairs. I hadn't gained all my weight back or anything, but I clearly had gotten more out of shape than I had been in the spring or even later in this past summer.

It will surely be another struggle, but that's fine. Anything worth having is worth working for.

Fatherhood Engineering

My dad once claimed he could fix anything but a broken heart. I remember a few broken toys he glued, taped, or snapped back together and so I fell for this blatant lie for years. Then, when my 1971 Oldsmobile decided to need a new freeze plug and was leaking water and anti-freeze all over the yard, Uncle Tommy could fix anything but a broken heart.

Need a ceiling fan installed, call dad. Need a car fixed, he'd help you find someone else who could do that, but it never was going to be a cheap fix.

I sold the car soon after for a few hundred dollars.

But this was not before I learned a lesson. Or three.

Lesson one: Dads are liars.

I have thoroughly convinced my daughter that I am as strong as the Incredible Hulk, as smart as Einstein, and as interesting as that old fart who drinks rarely drinks beer (I never drink anything except soda or water, so I would argue I'm even more interesting).

Dads keep this lie going for as long as they can, I believe, for two reasons. 1. Dad's need all the ego boost they can get. We work hard (well, some of us do) and often times at thankless jobs where we don't feel appreciated. Our wives know that we're human, but no matter how much they appreciate us, our kids make us feel like super-powered-zombie-killers. 2. Its okay for our kids to be a little bit scared of us. I'm not saying that they should be afraid in the way the gypsies were afraid of Count Dracula (If you don't understand this, read a book once in a while, sheesh!). I mean in the way the citizens of Gotham are afraid there's a Batman out there in the streets. Sure, he must be a powerful being, but he's there to protect them and has their best interests at heart.

Lesson two: Dads are going to fail you sometimes.

Hey, we're human. My dad couldn't fix my car for free just like I won't be able to explain all of Evie's geometry homework to her one day. It doesn't mean I won't try my hardest to figure everything out and take our combined knowledge to crank out some serious math, but I promise she's still going to miss a few equations and angles and whatever else goes on in math besides balancing a checkbook.

Lesson three: Dads all want to be MacGyver.

Mac could find find a way to escape from a bank vault with a Q-tip and a rubber band. A Q-tip!

Today, I fell prey to this. I was having lunch with a friend and brought Evie along, but noticed she kept getting her hair in the food. I had forgotten a hair-tie. Ponytail holder. Whatever you call it.

I did, however, have a shoelace. A spare, clean shoelace, so don't go thinking I yanked something off my sneakers. Don't ask why I had a spare, that's not part of the story. But it was clean and I had one, so I looped it a couple of times and tied up Evie's hair. It worked wonderful.

Then some lady took pity on my daughter like any person with a heart and a hair band would, and gave me a spare hair tie of her own.

Either way, my hair thingy worked beautifully. I stand by it one hundred percent.

Just don't pick at it or it may come untied.

I'm a Robot!

About a week ago, very randomly, my daughter walked up to my wife and said, "Mommy, I'm a robot!" and then began walking around in a very robotic manner.

Who taught her this? Where did it come from? Did she learn it at daycare? Did she learn it from TV? We have no idea.

At times like that, I start to really dislike having to take her daycare. I'm not some guy who firmly believes his wife needs to be "barefoot and pregnant" and stay at home with the kids while the man goes out and spears a woolly mammoth or anything. My mom was a stay at home mom for most of my childhood, only taking up a part-time job here and there to help make ends meet. After a while, my dad would want her to quit because he firmly believed a woman's place was in the home.

Look, I'm not my dad. I don't think my wife needs to quit her job (to be honest, we couldn't afford for her to do so) or anything like that.

Its just that, sometimes, I think it would be great if we were independently wealthy and could just be full-time parents.

Then I could teach my kid how to say "I'm a zombie" and then bite the dog. You know, normal parent stuff.

So, if anyone has a spare couple of million dollars lying around they'd love to just give to someone, let me know!

How to Eat a Sandwich

How to eat a sandwich, by Evelyn Williams

Today I get to share with you my sandwich eating process, something I hope you'll find educational and entertaining as we enjoy another moment to laugh at our frustrated parents.

First, have your daddy or mommy make you a peanut butter sandwich. It may also be a ham sandwich, bologna (also called "baloney), turkey, or even honey. The type of sandwich your parent brings you is really irrelevant to this, as the title is how to eat a sandwich, not how to eat a specific sandwich.

The parental unit who brings you the meal may also add a side of fruits - my personal favorite being of the banana variety - or chips, crackers, or even vegetables. Sometimes I get vegetables. Those days are harder than most.

But I digress.

Take the sandwich apart. I know, you're destroying their hard work, but believe me when I tell you there is a method to my madness. Take that bread apart!

Choose the piece of bread with the least amount of other stuff stuck to it. If your parents put mayonnaise, for instance, on your ham sandwich, just leave the meat on the other slice of bread and enjoy the mayo and bread. Take the piece that has the least amount of peanut butter stuck to it. The piece that only has ketchup. "But I like peanut butter," you say? That's okay, this is part of the process.

Eat one slice of the bread slowly, so they notice what you're doing. It may be difficult to stomach at first, but again, slowly. You're not trying to set a world record for eating disgusting food fast or anything.

Once daddy (or mommy) has seen how you are eating your food, they may try to correct what you're doing by pushing what's left of the first slice of bread back together with the original piece.

As soon as their back is turned, take the entire sandwich and try to stuff it in your mouth as fast as possible. When this obviously fails, take whatever is left and smear it all over the front of your shirt, your face, your hair, and anything else you can think of.

Two results are possible:

Daddy: Sees your shirt, exclaims "Oh no!" and rushes upstairs to get you a clean shirt. If you have done your job properly, you'll get a free Happy Meal and won't have to go through this process again for a few days.

Mommy: You get a bath and an early nap time.

I highly recommend waiting until it is just you and your daddy to try this.

Time Management

I think one of the hardest things to do, at least for me as a parent, is manage my time. I want to sleep in on my days off - I don't get to do this anymore. I haven't really for about two and a half years. I want to do what I want to do, when I want to do it, I haven't ever really been able to do that all day, every day, since I started school when I was five years old. Now that I have a kid, I keep fighting this uphill battle with the clock.

I wake up, try to get myself ready, then get the kiddo up to start the day. That's the plan. Except, my daughter doesn't sleep in. Ever.

This kid is up and bright eyed awake, I kid you not, at 7-freaking-AM every morning! Thankfully, on rainy days, she'll sleep in it seems but those days are few and far between when I have a day off (today being an exception).

It doesn't help that I work late nights three days out of the week and days on the weekends. Not only does this constantly mess with my sleeping schedule, it throws off my circadian rhythm every week. Mostly because I'm one of those people who can't come home strait from work and go right to bed. I just can't do it.

This is extremely frustrating.

Then you factor in the time I want to spend with my kid, writing a blog, making a somewhat healthy lunch, picking up the house, and my own personal time to read or watch television shows that do not have colorful monsters. I am starting to understand why some parents check out.

A week ago, during work, we visited a house where the next door neighbor literally told her son and daughter (the oldest was around six) to go outside and play. Play where? They lived in an apartment complex, so obviously they played in the parking lot. Seriously.

I'm not ready to check out like that. I may even be days where I'm ready to, but there is no way in you-know-where that I'll do that.

It could be that I'm blaming a lot on my work schedule where I need more self-discipline. I'll admit that. Maybe I should force myself to go to bed early. I don't know.

Whatever the case may be, I'm learning more and more that taking the time to just manage my time is taking up too much time.

So I'm going back to bed. Evie can play with the dog, right?

I'm only kidding!

A Funny Thing Happened at White Castle

I took work off today. I have some stuff I need to work on this afternoon and decided a personal day was in order.

Also, I had to go to the South side of Indianapolis and get my oil changed this morning. So after we took the Toyota in and got the work done, Evelyn and I stopped by White Castle (oh the diapers I'll be a changing later!) for a quick lunch.

As we set, eating our sliders and fries, Evie decided to do something absolutely hilarious. This is exactly what happened, I kid you not.

Evie picked up one of her sliders and began going, "Moo! Moo!"

"Evie," I said, "Stop trying to communicate with the dead spirit of that cow and eat your burger."

Obviously I do not believe my daughter is in the habit of consorting with spirits, nor does she practice any kind of necromancy, witchcraft, or satanism. There would be more than a spanking coming her way if this were true. I was only making a joke.

My daughter looked at me and in a very articulate way informed me very matter of factly, "Cows eat corn." She then began mooing again and laughed.

Where did that come from?

Getting Back in a Groove

I've been trying to write a blog for the past couple of weeks and have had a really hard time doing it. It seems every time I sit down and start to write stuff down, I get a phone call, there's a knock at the door, Evie wants my attention, the dog needs let out, the wind blows, things fall off a passing airplane and crash into my house causing a brief time warp... you know, the usual stuff.

So here's what is new: Evie no longer needs to go to the genetics doctor. Well, that's kind of a lie. She actually has to go back at some point years from now before she starts school, but only for a small check up. The whole trip we took last week to the doctor was probably the last one we'll need to make, and it was fun! It was the kind of anxiety-panic-attack-inducing fun, though, not the kind of fun you have at Disneyland.

Okay, that really doesn't sound like fun. That sounds more like a regular trip to the doctor when you're worried things aren't going to go well.

I guess some things don't get a positive spin no matter how hard you try.

We met with a therapist before we had to talk to the doctor. The therapist told us nothing new, just that our daughter is brilliant and probably going to be a physicist some day who will end up explaining how a literal six day creation is just as likely as the Big Bang, but that ... I don't know. She said she's smart. When normal kids are doing something, Evie is about five steps ahead of them and already moving on. This was encouraging news.

Then we met with the doctor who said our daughter is physically just fine after a year in ankle braces and physical and speech therapy. All in all, it was a good visit.

We also ate McDonald's after, and the kiddo was pretty excited about that.

That's the update! The blog is back!

Dressing Yourself

I always thought that dressing oneself is is the easy part of the day. Unless you can't find clean underwear, then it becomes a chore. Unless you can't find clean underwear and your wife left the blinds open downstairs when you go to look in laundry baskets for clean underwear and the neighbors are outside.

Then it just gets downright awkward.

But overall, the whole part of dressing yourself should be one of the easiest parts of your day.

For Evelyn, it becomes and adventure.

Today I went into her room to get her ready to start the day only to find she'd dressed herself. Twice. Not bothering to take the previous outfit off before putting on a second shirt.

Wait, I should say third shirt, because she hadn't taken off her pajamas.

So I went into her room and found my daughter laying in the floor sucking her thumb, wearing three shirts and no pants. Only a diaper.

Well, its the easiest part of the day for someone well practiced in it. Evie is still figuring things out.

When she was smaller, I'd do the same thing my mom used to do to help me get dressed. I'd look through the head hole and make eye contact, then say "Boo!" and pull the shirt over her head. Now that she's putting on her shirt herself, she'll often put the shirt on except the head hole, and only have enough of her face poking out so that she can make eye contact, shout "BOO!" and pull the shirt the rest of the way on.

Copycat.

Overall, its getting to be easier to get my kiddo ready to start her day. Which is nice.

Mawage, sweet mawage...

"Mawage. Mawage is wot bwings us togeder tooday. Mawage, that bwessed awangment, that dweam wifin a dweam... And wuv, tru wuv, will fowow you foweva... So tweasure your wuv."

"Skip to the end."

"Have you the wing? ...And do you,Pwincess Buwwercwup..."

"Man and wife. Say man and wife."

"Man an' wife."

-- From "The Princess Bride


One thing you have to remember to work on is your relationship with the other parent. Sometimes this includes just being civil with your ex-wife/husband. In my case, it means being civil with my wife and making sure we not only work at being good parents, but a good husband and wife team.

I know some couples who make such an effort at being a couple, they become horrible parents. Their kids will grow up knowing mom and dad loved each other, but questioning if mom and dad love them. I know some other couples who work so hard to be great parents, after a few years after the kids are born, they look across their dinner table one night and hardly recognize the person they married.

Striking the perfect balance is hard. Very hard. A relative of mine was talking about their marital problems with me one night a few years ago, and said in complete sincerity, "I guess our marriage isn't as easy as it is for you and Jen." My jaw hit the floor.

At what point did my marriage get easy? I didn't think I'd ever really think our marriage was easy. If marital life were a video game, ours has been on the "Legendary Hardcore All-Madden" setting since day one. Every time we get ahead, things start working against us. We have our fights, we have our disagreements, but the key is to not lord it over one another and we move on.

In the end, no matter what our disagreements may be or be about, my wife knows that I would drop everything to be there for her. I know, when push comes to shove, she has my back. It is never easy, and people who think that it is needs to be smacked in the head with an old Chuck Taylor tennis shoe (There is no worse feeling than having ones grandma do this to you, by the way).

I guess what I'm saying is, make some time to make the relationship with your kids' other parent at least bearable. If you're still married, then make it work. Get back to what made you love him/her to begin with. Save your marriage. If its too late for that, make time to make a friendship that will at least help your kid not hate that parent, too.

More on Lunch

I've often mentioned how I take my daughter out to eat for lunch every Friday. Sometimes we'll eat at Taco Bell, others we pig out at a China Buffet. Like most parenting decisions, you have to adapt them to your kid, your circumstances (and by that I mean money), and your own personal needs (and by that I sometimes mean money and/or tacos).

When we first started out, I would sit Evelyn in her car-seat on a table and she'd nap, suck down a bottle, or just stare blankly at me while I ate some food and tried my best to carry on a conversation with her. She wasn't much for talking back than, but I tried anyway. Someone convinced me it is a great idea to have your kids hear your voice, and I practiced at it even though her glares sometimes felt more like looks of "Please stop talking, I'm trying to poop here."

As her tastes improved from milk-filled bottles to little jars of food, I would sometimes go through a drive through and come home, feed her and eat my own food at the same time. Either way, keeping up the tradition of every Friday taking time out of our day to leave the house and grab a bite to eat.

Then she started eating solid foods and we were able to eat together. We've had some adventures, too! Like the time I blogged about where she tried Mountain Dew for the first time and I thought I broke her. Literally, broke her. Made something go cuckoo. If you don't remember it, go back and read all my previous blogs. But believe me, I was scared. We've also had some great experiences where other people's kids try to get a little too cozy with my kid and I tell them that she does not want to try their food, she has her own. They mean well. Then, as you'll have any time you leave the comfort of home, you'll have rude people who tell you you're doing it wrong or stare at you for having the audacity to bring a two year old into their normal place to eat lunch. These people can stuff it. Life happens and if they haven't learned that by the time they're in their sixties, then they don't deserve the senior discount they're getting to glare at me and my crying daughter. I mean come on, you're probably peeing in your pants, too, lady. Get over it!

Sorry. Kind of got off track. Where was I?

Right.

Recently, we've discovered a new Chinese restaurant and I'm loving it. Probably too much, because I think my weight loss plans are starting to work in reverse, but that's a blog for another day. The fact is, this particular restaurant makes the one non-happy meal related item my daughter loves: peppered chicken.

I don't know where that came from. She's not even a big fan of meat. I don't know what it is. She won't touch a turkey sandwich, avoids pieces of pizza with pepperoni on them, and will literally eat every part of a hamburger that isn't the burger. But this peppery chicken is her favorite thing in the world.

One thing to keep in mind is, I don't do Chinese like your average fat guy. No. I use chopsticks. Its a skill I'm actually very proud of. I learned it from a Hawaiian guy at college and I never stopped using them. I'm not saying I eat every meal with chopsticks, that would be ridiculous! But, when the opportunity presents itself, I use them to eat Chinese food.

My daughter finds this fascinating. You'd think I'm turning copper into gold before her very eyes when I eat. So, she started saying, "A bite?" which is code for, "Give me some of that food you're chowing on!" She does not say this often.

Actually, I've only ever heard her say it while I'm eating peppery chicken or candy. So that must give you a pretty good idea of what her views of this food are.

Like Twizzlers on Pixi Sticks!

I've started actually putting the peppery chicken on her plate when we eat. Next to her seldom eaten chicken nuggets (I'll put four on her plate, but I'm lucky if she eats one), french fries, onion rings and garlic bread - at a Chinese restaurant, this is what my daughter will eat.

And she loves it.

As her tastes continue to grow, I look forward to each and every Friday lunch. In a few years, we may have to change them to Saturday lunches because she'll be starting school, but for now I truly cherish each one. Yes, sometimes its frustrating when people are rude or my kid gets fussy, but that's part of it.

Sometimes, when the dust settles, its the best part.

Swings!

Comparing Kids and Writer's Block

I'm going to just put this out there: I have a hard time lately knowing what to write about. I want to blog about my wife's obsession with Pinterest, being an incredibly geeky dad who plays World of Warcraft, or the fact that my daughter used the big potty today, but I'm just having a hard time getting motivated to write anything.

Putting this stuff into words is pretty difficult sometimes, which is probably why my postings have been somewhat inconsistent as of late. Sometimes I just want to write about the fact I can't think of anything to write about, just so I can tell myself I did write something and thus, have not completely failed.

I think its important to keep writing, even when you don't feel like it. Its not my job, its a hobby, so I don't get paid or anything, but I think keeping up with this blog is one of the few things in my life that helps me keep my sanity some days. Just having that outlet is nice.

I've noticed since I started this blog that other people feel more comfortable writing/talking/posting about their kids. Especially my friends who are dads and uncles. Now, I freely admit that this probably doesn't have something to do with my blog.

Its like when I played football and my jersey number was "65." I started noticing that number everywhere. Why? Because God wanted me to know that He wanted me to play football and I was destined to be in the NFL someday?

Not even "High School Freshman Me" believed that. It was just something that had new meaning to me, and now I noticed it more often.

Since I'm blogging about my kid, I notice other parents talking about their kids more often. I won't lie, sometimes I hear their stories and size up my kid verses theirs. No, not in a juvenile "my dad/kid can beat up your dad/kid" way. I don't have that "My kid can beat up your honor student" bumper sticker because that isn't only stupid, its pretty lame (And my bumper sticker would probably say "your kid only makes better grades because they're a kiss up" but I digress). The reason I "size up my kid" verses yours isn't out of competitiveness. I know parents like that and I think its silly. Your kid won his soccer game and my kid can barely walk? Incredible. Archie Manning's kids have won 3 Super Bowls. Now what?

No. The reason I compare my kid is to see, in my own head, if she's on pace with where she should be. If your two year old is potty training, and doing great, and another friend has a kid who is four and just getting into pull-ups, I feel a little better about my kid being just behind your potty trained two year old. If your three year old knows the alphabet by sound, but can't recognize the letter H, and my daughter is able to note which is A and which is V, I'm a little proud, yeah, but not out of competitiveness. Just satisfied that my kid is at least average.

See, this is what I told our physical therapist when things started with that, "I don't care if my kid is going to be the greatest soccer player in the world, I just want her to be normal." By normal, I mean on pace with other kids.

No kid of mine will ever be normal. I came to terms with that long before she was born. I'm a huge geek, after all, with a wife who likes to make mouse shaped cupcakes.

Mark that Off The List

Earlier this year I blogged about how I wanted to get in shape.

I'm not there yet. Well, I have a shape, its just not the desired shape I strive for.

But in regards to that goal, I recently ran in the Warrior Dash in Crawfordsville, IN. I didn't set out to finish first, I would rather not have finished last (I got my results and didn't, by the way) but my ultimate goal was to simply finish.

It was an adventure.

For those of you unfamiliar with the concept, Warrior Dash is similar to Tuff Mudder, Mud Man, etc. Its a 5k obstacle course that truly tests your body. The first obstacles were mostly climbing muddy hills and falling... I mean, running down them. Some of the hills were so steep you could almost grab a hold of a rope and repel down like it was the side of a mountain. Mostly I would just run down as fast as I could until I fell down and slid the rest of the way. That part was actually kind of fun.

Other obstacles included a bunch of hay bails with boats between them - we had to run and climb and jump through all of that mess. Crawling under barbed wire, once was just a normal crawl and another time it was through several mud pits. My favorite part was the fire I had to jump through. Mostly because that sounds a lot more impressive than it really is.

But yeah, I jumped through fire.

What did you do on your Saturday? Oh, I jumped through fire. You? Oh... uhm... I learned to cross-stitch.

What does this have to do with being a dad? Well, part of it goes with the whole concept of wanting to be in shape for my kid. The other part is, even as a parent, you have to make time for your own adventures. Parenting is its own adventure, this is true, but you have to also get out now and then and do something that makes you feel alive.

I don't know what that adventure would be for you. Maybe you want to go sky diving. What gets your blood pumping? Searching for Sasquatch? Take a Judo class and imagine yourself as Batman? Whatever you need to do, but make time for your own adventure. For yourself.

Just make sure its not something you're going to look back on in a few days and say, "That was stupid" because even though my body is screaming "LET'S NOT DO THAT AGAIN!!!" my heart and my mind are saying, "Shut it, muscles, we finished!"

So now, I can mark that off my list and look for my next adventure.

How I Met Your Mother

I did a guest post for a friend about how I met my wife. I thought you may enjoy it so I didn't really post anything here.

Click here to go read it!

Over Analyzing Kids Shows

Okay, so this is what I've become. I'm that parent. The one who has become so cynical, so judgmental of the shows his child watches, he can not sit down and enjoy them with her.

It all started with Elmo. I watched way too much of the red furred muppet with that squealing voice that I am now convinced that is what made me snap. He gets advice from babies, for crying out loud!

And what's with Yo Gabba Gabba? I used to not mind my kid watching that, but the people who make that show actually feel there is enough cause to create a whole show based on the concept that biting your friends isn't a good thing to do. Who are these people hanging out with?

SpongeBob gives kids A.D.H.D. If it doesn't, I'm pretty sure it gave it to me, because I can't sit through an entire episode without becoming annoyed.

I don't know, I guess I just miss Mr. Rogers and the days when Oscar and Big Bird took up most of the time on Sesame Street.

Bitter old parent, signing off for the day.

Wow...

I just... I don't... what do I say...

That moment you don't know what to do...

I've been putting off writing this. The truth is, I have had a little bit of writer's block lately, but only because writing this and getting it out of my system has stood in the way.

A couple of weeks ago I blogged about how we're no longer pregnant and even though I've tried to keep the conversation about it light, have tried to avoid it and just deal with it privately, I'm finding it incredibly hard to actually do this.

Two weeks ago, Jennifer and I sat in our bedroom and we cried. We wept, we talked things through. In short, we grieved.

I haven't been able to stop grieving. Its hard to put into words, actually. Coming from me maybe that says plenty more than it would coming from someone else. For me to struggle putting something into words... well, it doesn't happen often.

To be honest, I don't know how to grieve. Growing up, my dad was always kind of distant at a funeral, and if he was around he was cracking jokes with his dad or his father-in-law. The only way we grieve, it would seem, is by laughing about things.

But I don't feel like laughing.

I spoke to my Grandpa Withrow the weekend after everything happened - the same weekend he lost his brother - and he basically expressed the same feelings. "I always tell jokes at funerals," he told me. I knew that. Everyone knows that about him. My dad's dad was the same way.

Mourning his uncomfortable so we laugh at it until we either forget it or figure out a different way to move past it, I guess? I don't know.

At one point, I remember praying, "Just tell me what to do, God. I don't know how to react to this, I don't know what to say to my wife, I don't know how I'm supposed to act and that hurts almost as bad as the loss itself."

No answer.

No magical parting of clouds, no voice through the static that is my brain, no magical neon lights telling me what I'm supposed to do.

But I can't really write a blog at all without going way out of my way, mentally, to avoid writing this particular blog. So maybe this is me dealing with loss. Writing it out. Ripping out my own bleeding heart and exposing it for all my friends and family to glare at. Metaphorically speaking, of course.

Maybe this will help, maybe it won't. Friends have been very helpful and encouraging, and family has been great.

And maybe its not something I'm going to be able to get over any time soon. Maybe I'm not supposed to. Maybe this is just one step in getting back to feeling right. Hopefully, it will be the last blog I write about it so you don't have to wallow in my self-pity with me - if that's what this is.

All I do know is this: There are times I feel like punching things, times I feel like crying, and times I push it so completely out of my mind its as if nothing has happened. I feel guilty for the last one. Am I supposed to continually remember?

I don't know.

Before I wrap this up I have one more thing to say.

You've the old saying, "If you don't have something nice to say, don't say anything at all."

When someone is going through a loss, if you feel like you have something to say but don't know what to say, say nothing. We have been blessed and have had only a few people who do not know this is actually an option, but those are the people who have actually made the whole situation hurt more. Saying that "this is for the best," may be something that you say to yourself to get you through something, and it may even be true, but nobody wants to hear that crap when they're hurting. Saying, "Heaven just needed another angel," is so absolutely useless, too. Heaven needs angels? Hey, maybe Asia needs more Chinese people. Seriously, don't say that.

The thing is, if you feel you have to say something, you probably don't. Sometimes just saying, "Hey, I'm sorry to hear about what happened. If you need anything, let me know" is the most awesome thing someone can say. Especially when they mean it sincerely.

I remember reading a book where a person said people should never say, "I know how you feel because I went through that." The author (Harold Kushner, I believe) said that nobody knows how the person in mourning feels because they aren't that specific person. I agree and disagree with that statement (I also disagree with several other things he said in that book, but this isn't the time or place). I mentioned previously how my grandmother called and knowing my grandpa went through a similar situation and took it hard was comforting. A family member of Jen's also went through it and was comforting in her words. A close friend talked about how she lost a baby at a much later time in the pregnancy, and I know she mourned with us all the same. But we've also heard, "Well, you'll get over it because I did" and that's just wrong.

Don't... don't do that.

Don't act like you're made of sterner stuff just because you've dealt with it and moved on in your way.

Also, never try and give someone grief counselling because you're awful at it. You're not me, you're not my wife, and it wasn't your pregnancy. It wasn't your kid, your hopes and memories that will never be made that were lost. I'm not saying someone who says that is heartless, had ill intentions or anything of that sort. I'm just saying that this isn't a helpful way of helping people and maybe you need to ask Oz the great and powerful for a blood pumping organ of some kind.

I will end with one last thing. My coworkers, my wife's coworkers, our closest friends and family have been great and I want to say thank you for all the prayers and encouragement and putting up with us the last few weeks.

I may not know how to deal with this, but I know I have good people helping me get through it while I figure it out.

Potty Time!

So one of the signs of a kid being ready to potty train - or so I've heard - is that they start taking their diaper off at random times because they don't like the feel of a stinky a diaper on their bum.

We have reached this time. Again. I think.

See, the thing is a while back, Evie started doing this in her crib. We thought, "hooray, time to poop like normal and save money on diapers and wipes and other things that do with your kid pooping not in a toilet!"

Unfortunately, as quickly as things seemed like they were headed for awesome-no-more-poopy-butt-town (No, not a real place, don't Mapquest that), the diapers started staying on and my daughter started crying when we tried to sit her on the toilet.

Now, I've well documented our attempts at potty training in the past - or at least I have tried and probably didn't accomplish it as well as I would like - but basically just imagine your kid not doing what you want them to. Specifically speaking, pooping where you don't want them to poop. Or pee. Whatever. You know what I'm getting at.

Well, here we are again. The diapers are coming off and this time around she's sitting comfortably on the potty. This crossroads... smells... familiar...

Here's to hope!

Chinese French Fries

So today we took our lunch together a day early, Evie and me. I decided I was really hungry for Chinese food - something we had been eating during our last few Friday lunches together (except last weekend, when we were out of town).

Here's my conundrum:

My daughter likes Chinese food. She actually does. She'll eat peppery chicken til her head explodes, but only if I feed it to her with chopsticks.

She thinks its hilarious that I use twigs to shovel my food into my face hole. Of course, she must also participate in this or it is a tainted experience. So I feed her a few bites, then eat my meal. Mostly, she doesn't care and goes right back to eating French Fries.

Wait... I'm getting ahead of myself. Story is jumbled or something... let me elaborate here.

I fix her a plate of her own. For the two of us, its only a little over eight dollars to eat at our particular restaurant of choice. This nice little place on W. 10th Street. I sit my daughter down in a high chair, fix her a plate, fix my own plate, sit both down so she can begin eating, then get our drinks. After that, I'm able to sit down.

But not eat.

I feed her a few bites of things and she eats them off my chopsticks. Then she'll cram french fries in her mouth until she decides she wants a drink out of her cup. I usually tend to forget to bring her own sippy cup, so I pour her a glass. Well, you've ate Chinese food, right? Do you see lids on those cups at the buffet? Probably not. They aren't McDonald's, after all. So I stop what I'm doing and let her drink non-stop from her cup (usually Hi C, Sprite, or Orange Fanta). I have to hold the cup, or she can have a pretty big spill all over the table, something that has happened more times than I care to admit.

When she's finally done slurping her drink, she goes back to her fries. Now, keep in mind, she has other things she can eat, too. This particular restaurant puts out a pretty good spread, some of it American foods, too. That is, if chicken nuggets and onion rings are American foods. They are, right?

So she eats plays with the other food while I'm eating some peppered chicken, crab stuffed mushrooms, General Tso's chicken, some of that meat they put on a stick that I only assume is chicken, and a variety of other things. Sometimes Evie wants to try some more, sometimes not, but mostly after she's had her first order off my plate, she's done.

But she only eats the french fries. Oh, and a slice of garlic bread. And the donut things. She likes those.

Today I let her try a fortune cookie. I took the paper out in case she got the idea that it, too, was edible.

She seemed to enjoy that.

Slowly, she's starting to eat a little more, but mostly she just wants those Chinese French Fries.

Shaking my head in disappointment.

Ten Things I Learn Over the Weekend

Sometimes I don't know what to blog about. When I get like that, you get a blog like this.

This past weekend Evie and I went on a trip together without Jen. Here's a list of ten things I learned:

1. I do not envy single parents. Just having to haul a suitcase around while pushing a stroller is annoyingly difficult. Especially when your stroller has a rogue wheel.

2. My kid is more awesome than I ever could have realized. She's also more durable. After falling and bumping her head a couple of times, she only cried a little and kept going.

3. A two year old has batteries that never die out. Even around bed time, she was still trying to keep me up. We shared a room together and the next few points have more to do with this.

4. My kid likes to jump on a bed and say "Bouncy." While I'm still sleeping. Which is not funny until later when you're more awake.

5. Kids mimic what you do. When I would brush my teeth, there was a small shadow brushing hers. When I put deodorant on, she insisted I put some on her, too. So I kept the lid on and rubbed it in her armpits, something she seemed to enjoy.

6. "Adventure Time" will put my child into a trance where she just watches the show and behaves. Its like an automatic BEHAVE button. Love that show.

7. I miss having my wife around when she's not there.

8. Having breakfast with a kid is fine. Just don't bother getting her ready to start her day until after she's had her food. Otherwise, you'll be getting her ready twice.

9. I just need one more to make this list a top ten?

10. When your kid starts grunting like she is about to poop, she is about to poop. Prepare for all possible outcomes. Fast.

And that's the end of today's blog.

Clarification

Jen read yesterday's blog and said she hopes people didn't think I literally meant "EVERYTHING."

No, my wife is not a husk of a person still walking around. Those are called zombies or alien infestations and we really hope to avoid those.

What I meant was the baby and all that was attached to it. It was just very difficult to write that out - apparently it still is kind of hard to put into words without feeling a little emotional.

But to clarify, no, my wife is not an empty shell or husk. As far as I can tell, she's still human.

So please, do not hit her in the head with a shovel in hopes to avoid a zombie apocalypse. Believe me, that makes her unhappy...

Update & Thanks

Jen had surgery today to have... everything removed.

Everything went fine and she should be back and up on her feet by Monday of next week. We're doing good, too, and I just wanted to give a quick update.

I also wanted to say thanks to everyone who has been supportive and has sent us messages, texts, made a quick call, helped out with Evie and everything else that great friends do in times such as this.

Also, I wanted to say thank you to those of you who have said nothing but have kept us in prayer. When you don't know what to say, you don't have to say something. Some people don't know this, and they tend to make things awkward and even more hurtful. These types of people have been few and far between, but even they have good intentions. Its just hard to remember that they're saying these hurtful things with good intentions.

I don't plan on calling these people out by name, or anything. Like I said, I know they mean well, but let's not make this about them. This is about saying thanks to those of you who have been good friends through the thick of this storm.

So, from both Jennifer and myself, thank you. Thank you all for all of your prayers and words of encouragement.

Thank you.

All I Need

All I Need
by Rhett Walker Band

Tell me will I ever catch a break
'Cause the storms roll on and where I am,
It does not feel safe.
I don't know what I should even pray,
But here my hands are raised.

The rain keeps falling down
As the waters flood this town
On my knees I'll be found
All I need, all I need is You

Show me once again that You are real
Oh this wounded heart let it start to feel.
You told me love would always be enough
And here I am, my hands are lifted up.

Wash my eyes to see You
Wash the stains away
Give me faith to trust You
'Cause You're the rising day.

This isn't easy.

This is not easy. Blogging, writing continually, that's not easy as it is, but then you add in how you spill out your personal life for the world to read, it gets even more difficult. Even though the intention of this blog was always more for me, more for my family and my kids, I know some people who may not fall into that category still enjoy reading it. So I want to start off by saying thank you. Thank you for bearing with me through times when I may write things that any other writer wouldn't waste effort on. Thank you for reading my attempts at being funny and sometimes - even though I only see it in my mind - laughing out loud at my mishaps and mumbled mistakes. Some of you have read this and laughed at the funny stuff, and cried along with us in the moments that we've also cried.

This isn't easy.

Some people may think I'm pretty good at writing out my thoughts, like I'm some kind of "word-smith" and I can hammer out a great, witty, original story that all can enjoy. Those people think too highly of me, but I love them for it.

Others may know better. That I often just say what I'm thinking and let the cards fall where they may. That's the fact about me. You may like me or hate me, but I am who I am and 99% of the time you don't have to worry about what I'm thinking because I've already said it. The 1% of the time I'm probably asleep.

That's just me.

So here we go. I don't even know if I'm going to publish this. Jen has asked me not to do it today. I may just save it for a while and publish it later. I don't know.

Today we found out that we are no longer pregnant. We lost Evie's little brother or sister.

Its been difficult. I don't know how I'm supposed to react. At first I felt numb, then I felt so sad, then rage. Then, I cried when I talked to my dad, when I talked to my grandma, and when I talked to my mother-in-law. I had a hard time not crying when I told my boss I'm taking Saturday off.

I rarely cry about anything. Seriously, even during Old Yeller. I mean, that dog needed to be put down, he had rabies!

But today I cried.

That's not me trying to macho or over dramatic. That's just the truth. When my grandma Williams called and told me she'd gone through something similar - something I didn't know, by the way - the only thing I could think was "How did my grandpa react?" So I asked.

"It bothered him, Jeffrey," my grandma said. That's about as much as you could expect her to say, or for him to have expressed. Grandpa wasn't really someone to show his emotions so easily. And, in a way, it helped me feel better. You know, for the same reasons when you see Superman crying, there's almost a sense of peace that comes with it.

If our heroes are capable of feeling pain, maybe we can feel it, too.

I know God has reasons for things like this. I know it. We can make it through it, because Christ will give us strength. I don't just believe this, I live this. It isn't easy, nothing ever is.

That doesn't mean its impossible.

Cinnamon Toast

One time, when I was little, my mom decided to make me some cinnamon toast. Not the cereal, but just simple cinnamon toast. Here's the easy recipe:

One piece of bread, toasted
Spread butter on the piece of toast
Sprinkle cinnamon evenly over the toast
Eat

Simple.

Except this one time, my mom accidentally grabbed the chili powder, which looks a lot like cinnamon but tastes a lot like something I don't want to eat on buttery toast. I'd rather have it in my chili where it belongs.

It did not taste good at all. Since that day, I don't think I've had cinnamon toast. It just never really occurred to me to ask for it again. I'd eaten the cereal a hundred times, but never really had the real deal.

Today I made my daughter some cinnamon toast, and double checked to make sure it wasn't chili powder. She loves it. So, I'm pretty sure it'll be something she'll have on a regular basis.

So that's my story of cinnamon toast.

The end.

Check Out The Shirt!

Oh boy! (or girl!)

So here's today's big news: we are pregnant with baby number two!

We're very excited, obviously. We had told close family about a month ago when we found out via pee sticks, but wanted to wait until the doctor confirmed it today.

So be happy for us! And if you aren't happy, fake it!

But seriously, I've been sitting on this news for a while now and you have no idea how hard it has been to not blog about it.

I'm gonna be a dad again!

I did tell my Grandma Withrow and the first thing she asked was whether it not we were far along enough to know if Evie will be a big sister or a big brother.

I knew what she meant. We laughed about it. And no, we aren't that far along just yet.

So yeah. Prego. Pregnant. With child. Bun in the oven. Etc.

Bigfoot

There are actually pictures of Bigfoot that are clearer than some photos I grab of my daughter. Two year olds...

Oh She Knows What To Do!

Potty training is not fun. We take 3 steps forward, 2 steps back. I know we have to be patient but come on! Sit and go.

Why is it such a big deal? I've done it in the woods while hunting before. My old football coach in High School bragged about going number 2 at the geometrical center of the United States because he could, and I quote, "Go anywhere."

One of my sisters had a hard time getting it under control. I remember when she was my daughter's age and Chuck E. Cheese was still Showbiz Pizza, and how my dream at the age of seven was to get so many tickets I could win an awesome prize. But no, my sister pooped herself and ruined my dreams of Wack-a-mole domination. I had to settle for a cheap plastic keychain.

Not that I still hold a grudge or anything.

Don't even still have that keychain. What a stupid prize.

Anyway, my mom always said I was potty trained early. Like, unnaturally early. One day, I apparently just wanted to stop wearing diapers and boom, no more boom boom in my pants. I'm not sure what age I was exactly but I know I was younger than my daughter is now.

But hey, no pressure. It's not like using the bathroom is some achievement that dictates how far you'll go in life. I mean, I've met a ton of people who are complete losers and they know how to use the bathroom. Wait, that's not very nice to say. Ok, I know a lot of below average people who are not messing their pants on a daily basis. Is that better? By "below average people" I mean people who wear camouflage jackets every day to school and grease up their hair in preparation of pizza Wednesdays in the school cafeteria. People who wear a cape because they think looking like a magician makes them look clever. Guys who wore bright red overalls to school in the 4th grade because they looked awesome. You know who I mean, don't make this about being politically correct!

There's just no way to say that without being mean. Obviously I am joking and if you're offended by the cape comment or you greased up your hair because you were excited about pizza day, you are either one of the fictional people I made up for that joke or I didn't know that about you and did not mean to offend. But seriously, you wore a cape? What were you thinking?

Back on target. My daughter knows how to use the potty. We know this because she has demonstrated it. She has made her dolls use the bathroom properly. Yet here we are, still changing diapers.

It's just kind of frustrating.

Also, again, I apologize if the cape thing offended you. For what it's worth, the red overalls were mine. And they did look awesome. Until everyone laughed at me and I threw up on them. 4th grade was awful.

I leave you with this: A few nights ago, my daughter came up to my wife and said "Potty!" to which my wife asked, "Do you need to go?" and my daughter giggled and pointed at her toilet, where this was happening...

Facebook Bragging on Your Kids Is Not Annoying

One thing I've read a lot of recently on Twitter and Facebook, are the comments of people who don't have kids (and at least have stated that they have no wish to have kids) saying that they wish people would stop posting pictures and videos of their kids.

To that I respond, "Okay, will you stop posting pictures of your food?"

Here's the thing. You have something you care about, you talk about it. Unless you're mute, have no arms, or don't have access to one of those Stephen Hawking chairs, you talk. You communicate about things that matter to you.

People may complain that their Christian friends (myself included) post at on of Scripture verses. I'll quote a Christian athlete on that topic:

"If you're married, and you have a wife, and you really love your wife, is it good enough to only say to your wife 'I love her' the day you get married? Or should you tell her every single day when you wake up and every opportunity?

"And that's how I feel about my relationship with Jesus Christ is that it is the most important thing in my life. So any time I get an opportunity to tell him that I love him or given an opportunity to shout him out on national TV, I'm gonna take that opportunity. And so I look at it as a relationship that I have with him that I want to give him the honor and glory anytime I have the opportunity. And then right after I give him the honor and glory, I always try to give my teammates the honor and glory.

"And that's how it works because Christ comes first in my life, and then my family, and then my teammates."*

Roll your eyes if you want because I just quoted Tim Tebow. The man has a point. Now, I'm not comparing my love for my kid to my love for Christ, those are a little different. But the point is, you're going to talk about what matters to you. Parents shouldn't feel like they can't talk about their kids because other people don't like it. If you don't like it, don't follow their twitter account and unfriend them from Facebook.

With that said, I understand there are people who want kids and are unable to have them and that's a sensitive topic. If that were the case, then hey, I'd try to be sensitive to that, but at the same time, I'm still going to post things my kid does and pictures of her acting funny. I still have family who follow/friend me and want to see the pictures or hear the stories.

I do have a few Facebook friends who only post about their kids, but hey, maybe that's all they have going on in their life - their kids are the only highlight of their day. And yeah, sometimes it gets on my nerves to see that, but I do it, too. Or maybe they'll one up a story of my kid's with a story of their kid. Hey, I get that, too. Maybe they aren't trying to one-up, or be rude, I just took it that way.

So delete those comments and go on with your day.

I'm done now.



*Tim Tebow on ESPN's First Take

Its My Win, Too! (This Time)

Recently a friend and I got into a discussion via Twitter about how her son's potty training accomplishments felt like her accomplishment as well. She had said it was weird how our children's accomplishments sometimes feel like our own.

It isn't really weird, I told her, because in a situation like potty training, its very much her accomplishment as well.

Her son didn't go off to college on a basketball scholarship and a few years later deliver an MVP trophy and NBA Championship to their home. He pooped! To a parent, these are both very proud moments no doubt, but one is clearly more the son's accomplishment than the parent's.

It got me to thinking, though. At what point do we, as parents, really stop taking credit for the "wins" our kids experience? And if we continue to revel in the victories, we should be willing to suffer in the losses as well.

How horrible of a parent I would be if I only bragged about my daughter's trophies and was never around to let her cry on my shoulder when she experienced loss?

Yesterday, Evelyn went just a little bit of number two in her potty. It wasn't the full thing, but I felt like I'd just won a Super Bowl and saved planet Earth all in the same moment. And it was only a little poop!

I don't know if Evelyn will play any sports some day, but chances are if she takes up tennis or softball I'll be there helping her learn the sport and passing on any piece of knowledge I may have about the sport. If her goal is to be a scholar, I'll do my best to pass on knowledge to her that will allow her to pass all of her classes. In other words, no matter what she does, I plan on investing in her accomplishments and helping her through any failure along the way.

Someday, she'll get a win on her own. She'll hit a home run, pass a test, or something else that will have nothing to do with me at all. That'll be a win that's all her own and all I'll get to do is grin and be proud of my kid.

And a part of me will still think I had something to do with it, and its my win, too!

Singing

Dear Evie,

Daddy knows he's not exactly Peter Furler or TobyMac, but when we sing "This Little Light of Mine" it is not polite to stick your fingers in your ears and shout "All done!"

Sincerely,
Daddy

Copy Cat

Every night my wife puts our daughter to bed and, together, they say their prayers.

Lately, whenever I put her to bed, Evelyn has started saying "Again" after her prayers when I put her to bed. So, typically, I'll just say another prayer. The other night, however, when Jennifer was putting her to bed and Evie said "again" my wife had her say her own prayers. It went something like this:

She folded her hands, closed her eyes, and said, "Dear Lord, Amen."

Maybe I sound arrogant, maybe I'm biased, but I like to think that God heard that and completely understood and loved that prayer more than anything else he had heard that night.

Unless some other guy's kid somewhere did something similar. I bet God liked that, too.

I'm sure some cynic will point out that Evie is only two and probably doesn't understand what she was saying, or Who she was talking to. Maybe that is true. Perhaps this is just the ramblings of a proud Christian dad going on about his daughter repeating something she saw.

Kids do that, you know. They copy us.

There are kids out there who say things their parents say, do things their parents do, and think a certain way because their parents think that way. Just the other night at work I heard a kid who couldn't have been older than five swearing at his little brother and calling him stupid. The brother had to have been around three or four years old. I have no idea what the younger brother did to deserve such a verbal lashing, but I saw the root of it as we walked up to the house next door.

Upon seeing us, the mother came out and began swearing at the kids and telling them to get inside the house. The older brother said something in return and the mother said, "Boy, stop acting stupid and get in here." [I edited that a little because I don't use the language she used]

So yeah, be cynical if you want, but I would rather my kid copy us praying and believe it meant something rather than my kid copy something else... less desirable.

Just Eat!

How is it that if it has icing or chocolate on it, my kid makes it vanish like David Copperfield, but if it so much as has pickles on it, she thinks it's a toy?

Dear Me

I wanted to write a big, personal letter to my self from fifteen years ago. Something about how great life gets, there's some wonderful surprises just around the corner, how things may feel rough now but just wait a few years. You know, all those lame things we tell ourselves we would tell ourselves if we had a chance.

If there was a chance to write a letter, it would actually probably sound more like this.

Dear Me,

I decided to not give you winning lotto numbers or anything that would actually be awesome, but here's a bunch of lame advice you'll need to learn along the way that'll actually make you good at being an adult.

Proceed with blah blah blah.

Sincerely,

30 Year Old You


That's lame.

Wait, I got it. I'll just write a letter to myself from a week ago, so I still get the wisdom of being 30 and the other perks of writing myself a letter in the past.

Dear Me,

Wednesday, June 6th. 19-30-33-48-59-PB27. This is not a cypher. You know what to do. Just take off work Wednesday. It'll stink.

Sincerely,
You in a week.


Well, that was selfish.

Besides, I'll never get a chance to read that in the past.

I got it.

Dear Me in Ten Years,

How's it going? How many kids you got now? Evie's what, twelve? I bet she's getting difficult as she's reaching the teenage years. Money is probably still tight, eh? Look, for what its worth, I know you've seen better days and you've probably seen worse days. You're 40 and you're feeling it. Maybe not. Hopefully, you started getting yourself in shape and never stopped - that was my goal at 30. If you weigh over 300 lbs right now, punch yourself in the face. Literally. No, harder. Because 20 year old me would be punching me in the face right now for letting him get so fat. So this time around, just do it if you didn't follow through with it.

Look, I don't have any winning lotto numbers - at least none that could be useful to you. I don't have anything you don't have, except a very clear memory of what is happening today, this week, at this time in your life. A time that, in ten years, is going to be a little fuzzy and mixed up with things that happened twelve years ago and eight years ago.

But here's the deal. If you look around at your life and feel like you've failed, the only way that would happen is if you look at your kids with regret and time missed because of work. You've really messed up if you look across the room at your wife and feel like you don't even know who she is anymore. So what if Back to the Future 2 lied to us and you don't have a flying car or a hoverboard or clothes that air-dried themselves? You've got a family that you love, right? Because if the answer is no, then you, sir, are not the man I want to be.

Things may get hard. But remember the words we read in High School from Ernest Hemingway - "A man may be defeated, but not destroyed." You're not destroyed if you're reading this. Hopefully, you're not defeated, either.

One question, though. Did Jack ever stop peeing in the floor?

Sincerely,

You

Ps. As you were writing this, Evie came walking up just to hug you. Your heart melted.

The Monster That Eats Our Car

A Mother's Day story from the point of view of Evelyn Grace Williams.

I sat in the back seat of the automobile, strapped in like a mental patient, listening to the tall people babble on about how the rain has sullied the paint of their new car.

Psh, "new." Its older than I am.

New. Ha.

They had tried to lull me into a stupor with a nice dinner, interestingly enough eaten to celebrate the day of my mother becoming a mother.

Hey, I thought that was my birthday, but nobody got me any presents. What a bunch of... wait, what are they talking about?

I distinctly heard the bearded one mention the Carrash.

No.

He couldn't.

He wouldn't.

I mean he just scrubbed down this piece of junk a week ago. I don't care if the birds did go poopy all over it, its still plenty clean in other places.

Maybe I should explain. The Carrash is a giant monster that lives in this big brick building out by all the stores. He tries to lure in small children by posting stuffed animals of cartoon characters like SpongeBob and Bugs Bunny outside his noisy maw. Somewhere inside the beast's belly lurks an image of my only real friend, Elmo, but I have to remind myself that this is another facet of the beast's trickery.

This beast devours our car, and then proceeds to poopy us out its back. The car looks cleaner, sure, but at what cost? Everyone knows the beast is using its disgusting acids to burn away the car dirt, and its only a matter of time before the acids eat away at the protective barriers that save us from becoming an actual meal.

The bearded fool has just reached in his wallet and gave a minion of the beast his money card.

Oh.

This is not good.

My brain starts going into over time as I begin running through every possible scenario. Every single time I've not wanted to eat a meal, I've always said "all done," and the tall people have taken my plate. When I'm tired at the park, I say, "all done" and we go home.

It'll work. It has to work. "All done" is the only magical incantation I can use. Its all I know.

We're entering the monster's mouth and a girl starts spraying some liquid all over the front of the car. Obviously she is basting us for the feast.

I begin chanting slowly, "all done. all done. all done."

They don't hear me. Or perhaps the incantation needs more magical force behind it. Or perhaps the monster is too powerful. No, I can't allow myself to think like that.

"All done. All done."

Oh no, the blue teeth are sliding over the front of the car and over the roof. We're going in!

"All done! All done!"

Now the extra set of teeth, the ones that spin, are starting to rush over the sides of the car and terror breaks me. I begin to scream the magic words, "ALL DONE! ALL DONE! ALL DONE!"

Nothing. We pass into the monster's stomach where his farts dry the car.

And there's the image of Elmo, taunting me from within the great monster's intestines. We pass through, becoming the monster's poopy, again narrowly escaping death.

The tall people are fools. Some day the protective barriers of the car won't protect us.

Someday... I'll be better prepared.

My Shortest Blog Update To Date.

Today was our last therapy session. Ever.

That is all.

What a Weekend

Ever notice how when you finally get around to washing your car, that's when it rains? Seriously, I've washed my car twice since we got it and each time, within a few hours, it rained.

That has nothing to do with today's blog, its just something that's really irritating me. Thought I'd get it off my chest.

Also, that's how the weekend ended. With a car wash and my daughter having a panic attack. More on that in a moment.

Friday night we went to our first Minor League, Triple-A baseball game since moving to Indy. It was the Indianapolis Indians vs. the Louisville Bats. It was a pretty entertaining game, but the real entertainment was watching Evelyn go make friends.

There was a nice couple beside us who let her play with their kids dolls while we tried to watch the game. Well, I say "we" but I mean "me." Jen was busy trying to keep track of Evie and carry on a conversation with Julie (one of the other bailiffs in my wife's court) and watch the game and talk to me... you know, the many tasks of a mom and all that.

We have to remember to bring her a doll next time.

Saturday I worked, so nothing really great to report there, except the heat was ridiculous. Jen took Evie to the pool and when I came home I crashed on the couch with about a gallon of water to drink.

Sunday I left work a little early because of race traffic. If you've never lived on the West side of Indianapolis, you won't understand, but that side of town gets locked down come time for the Indy 500 (which was Sunday) or the Brickyard.

I hate racing, have I ever said that? What a waste of gas. Ping-pong matches are just as entertaining to me.

Monday is where the real excitement was. We got up early and headed down to the laundromat. Yeah, we washed clothes.

Exciting!

Afterwards, we came home and Evie and I napped while Jen went to the pool for some much needed rest and relaxation away from a two year old. We had a quick lunch and then went to wash the car. This is where the meltdown happened.

Apparently, when my daughter is really not enjoying something, she believes she can finish it faster by saying, "All done."

Sometimes she says this very sweetly as she brings me her now empty glass of milk. Sometimes she says this after deciding she's not eating her corn. On Monday, she said this quietly as we were entering the car wash. Then proceeded to scream it.

Repeatedly.

I felt horrible. Here I am just trying to get the bird crap off of my car and my daughter believes we are being devoured by a giant soap monster.

ALL DONE! ALL DONE! ALL DONE! ALL DONE!

Nope, just a few more minutes. Daddy's right here, though.

She looks at me as though I've tricked her into a death trap. What sort of man are you, dad? How could you do this? All said in a glance.

ALL DONE! ALLDONE ALLDONE ALLDONE!!! Then we were done and she relaxed.

And it rained last night.

Friday Night Baseball

Friday night we went to a Triple-A baseball game. The Indianapolis Indians played the Louisville Bats. We left after the fifth inning because a two year old does not enjoy long sporting events like her thirty year old dad does.

I was able to capture this moment, though:

From the Photo Vault

Taste in Music

Recently, while watching Yo Gabba Gabba! my daughter discovered a band. At the age of two, she has a favorite band.

I think at the age of two, my favorite song was "Walking Talking Catfish" - which no amount of google searching has been able to find but I swear to you that song existed and was awesome. So if anyone has that on cd I would love a copy... just saying... for Evie, not for me.

Seriously, not for me. Awesome song, though.

Anyway, my kid has a new favorite band. I'm actually going to post the link RIGHT HERE.

I subsequently downloaded about 4 of their albums. Now I have a new favorite band, too, and we listen to them on the way to the daycare.

Its a change of pace from my normal taste in music.

I used to think my mom was crazy for wanting to listen to all the kids beats songs, and swore I'd never be that parent. You know, the parent who jams out to Kids Bopz or whatever they're called. Those cheesy kids singing top 40 songs, or trying to sing hip Christian music or whatever.

The Aquabats saved my day.

I don't care. Laugh at me if you want. They're fun, they're something I can enjoy with my kid, they aren't dirty or crude (at least I haven't found something like that yet - still have a couple of their albums to go).

Yes, I still want her to listen to that good ol' wholesome TobyMac and Newsboys, and we do still listen to those (its called a playlist), but something fun is always nice to throw in. She dances in the middle of the floor to the tunes and we have a laugh.

So yeah, that's our taste in music, I guess.

Of course, I'm not endorsing the Aquabats for you and your kid, but they're worth checking out. They beat that purple dinosaur, anyway. And like I said, they may end up being trash, but for now we're enjoying them.

Pictures?

I haven't really made it a practice of posting pictures, but I thought I may give it a try.

Maybe I'll just add one now and then, something I've taken around the house or from a trip, just to have it out there.

So here is one of my new favorites.

She just looks like the weight of the world is on her shoulders, like life has completely gotten her down. Perhaps she's just deep in thought, pondering the inner workings of the universe.

She's 2. She's probably thinking she wants a cookie.

Poop Pie

Sometimes, when you're an adult, life hands you a big hot pie filled with poop and all you can do is simply say, "hey, at least its pie."

That's what happens sometimes.

Lately, though, I've got nothing to complain about. Yeah, I'm sure if I looked for things, I could find things to make me upset, but the fact is that if all you do is look for negative stuff to be unhappy about, you'll never have any kind of happiness.

A man far greater than myself once wrote, "In everything give thanks" (The Apostle Paul, in a letter to the church of Thessalonica, around 52 AD). In everything. That means that even when life gets us down, we need to find something to be thankful for. He finished that line with "for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus." So, to me, this means God doesn't want us looking for things to be miserable about, but to find things to be thankful for.

And that's wonderful in theory, but in practice its sometimes much harder.

We've had a few things come up lately that are stressful, but not beatable. Life's like that. One minute you're up and the next you're down just as much as you were up. The thing that gets you through it is when you have something to look forward to, something to be thankful for.

In college, when the North Dakota weather would get me down in February, I'd look forward to a movie that would be coming out in the next few months. It was my light at the end of the tunnel knowing that the next Lord of the Rings or Marvel movie was going to be out in just a couple of months. I know that may sound silly, but I was in college and had little else that made me excited.

Now days, I have something else to look forward to. Some light at the end of the tunnel of every day.

Being a dad.

If there's nothing else to be thankful for, I have my family. That may sound lame to some people, but it really does help me get through some rough patches. Of course, there are days where our two year old decides she wants to personify the "terrible twos" and days where my wife gets on my nerves. That happens when you live with people. I'm positive I'm not always the most pleasant person in the house. Just ask the dog.

The fact is, I'm thankful for them. Even though my wife and I may not see eye to eye, and diapers smell like poop pies, I'm glad.

Because hey, its pie.

Intrusive!

A two year old doesn't care if you are using the bathroom or not. She's gotta show you this booger!

We Cut the Cord

We recently got rid of cable. We kept the internet, bought a Roku player, and now get our television broadcast over the "interwebs" (as they are sometimes called by people who want to sound hip - I am not above doing this).

We have Netflix and Hulu+, and even with those two monthly subscriptions and our internet bill, we're still saving almost eighty dollars a month. Actually, our bill was being raised next month, so if we counted that, we are actually saving around a hundred dollars a month by simply getting our t.v. shows one day later. Which is nice.

Saving money is fun.

Plus, I kind of feel like we won. I know that's silly, because its not a competition, but in a sense we're keeping the shows we want and still getting them from Comcast, but at half the cost because we're getting it through the internet and not through cable. Its like we outsmarted them or something.

I'm sure if someone from Comcast were to read this they'd have a nice chuckle at my supposed cleverness. Or cry because I actually read that cable companies are losing money at a hefty rate because of deals like the Roku player and Apple TV.

Either way, the day we figured out we could do this, I grinned like the Grinch when he had an evil idea to steal Christmas.

I know, some people want their kids to watch Nickelodeon all day, and I'm okay with them doing this. Because guess what we get?

Fraggle Rock. Sesame Street. Veggie Tales. Yo Gabba Gabba. Vintage G.I. Joe. Voltron. Uhm... I mean... you know, cartoons Evie would enjoy, like Veggie Tales.

Heh.

So we cut the Cable cord. We're doing okay with it, no mental break downs, panic attacks, or withdrawals from the Housewives of the Rich People's Trailer Park or whatever they were called.

Mother's Day 2012

We had a nice dinner, my wife had received gifts throughout the week, and she played Lego Star Wars with me for about an hour.

Best. Wife. Ever.

Happy Mother's Day to my mega-awesome wife, Jennifer.

Wife Quote of the Day

On my cheap air fresheners I bought for the new car:

"They're not air fresheners, they're air wreakers!"

Something to Add

"I have poop on my finger. Not for the first time today, and probably not for the last." - after changing a diaper this morning

Something to Add

I'm going to start doing smaller updates now and then - including the twice a week updates - that will be much, much smaller than my regular blogs. Maybe just a funny thing I catch myself, or my wife, or my kid saying. Maybe just an update to a previous blog. Maybe just a small giblet of information I felt like sharing. Maybe a short, funny experience we'd just had that will be revisited in a later blog. It could just end up being a brain fart I felt like sharing.

These will not be posted to Facebook or Twitter when new additions are added to the blog, I'll just add them and go about my day, and if you happen to get bored and are wandering about the internet in search of something else to read that won't melt your brain, you can mosey on over here and check out some of the small tidbits I've added.

Strange Habits

My daughter has, as long as she's been alive, had the weirdest infatuation with wet wipes. I don't know what causes it, but every morning when I go to get her from her room - she's usually already awake - I find that she has taken as many wet wipes from their container as possible and scattered them about her room.

Sometimes she just takes them, cleans up her hands and face with them, as if she just finished eating a bag of Doritos, and tosses them in the trash. Not this morning.

I walked in to find about thirty different wet wipes all across the floor. They were not organized in any particular order, just scattered. Evie just laid in the corner, talking to herself and sucking her thumb and pretending she had no idea how those wet wipes escaped their plastic prison.

Another new thing is where she takes charge of an empty box as if it were her new favorite toy. Except, she doesn't treat it like a toy. She crawls inside it like a house cat that just discovered a random paper bag.

I'm not sure where these strange habits are coming from. Its not the extent of them, to be sure, but I'm not sure what to do with the rather odd habit of pulling her shirt up and playing her tummy like a drum. Did she learn that from my dad somehow? I mean, what is that even about?

I've come to the conclusion that sometimes, kids are just weird. That's what makes them fun.

Well, that, and pranking them...

cha-cha-cha-CHANGES

Today we're off work. It's election day.

Its a pretty busy day and yet I make time to blog. Because, for some of you, this is all you have to make the murky waters of your life glisten with clarity. Or you're bored and have nothing else to do.

Which is where i currently am as I wait for the time to take Evie to daycare to approach... hence my writing.

Starting out the day, we cancelled our cable subscription. Kept our internet. Why did we do this? To save money. We recently bought a Roku box so that we could just watch t.v. over the internet. When its all said and done, we're actually saving about a hundred dollars a month. Well, sixty right now, but when our bill goes up in June, our cable bill would be so high, we'd actually be saving a hundred. We did the math.

Also today, we're going to go look at buying a new vehicle. The ol' Chevy is still running fine, but we're planning on... wait for it... expanding our family.

Not right now. Ain't nobody preggers up in here!

But we want to be within the year. So, new car that'll fit at least two car seats.

If we have twins we're up poop creek without paddles, a canoe, or water. That's right, we're just in a huge ditch if we have twins. A ditch the shape of a minivan we'd have to buy.

Minivan. I hate the word. As I hate hell, all Montagues and the people at Fox who cancelled Firefly.

It was a great show!

So we're just going to look today. And maybe buy. It depends on how the tides of money drift as we haggle and negotiate and barter.

I wonder if I promised to throw in a hound dog if he'd knock a few hundred more off the price. Wait... trading vehicles isn't like trading guns and fishing poles? My dad has really skewed my perception of the bartering process!

What if I threw in some steel traps? Like, for catching beavers? A few 3/30s and we've got ourselves a deal, sir!

Okay. If you don't get that last line, you are not related to anyone who has ever fur trapped. If you do, I know you're laughing hysterically.

But here's the big news. We may be renting/buying a house. I don't want to jump the gun, but that's the plan. We're going to rent for a year with the option to buy. At least, that's what the guy selling the house seemed to indicate last night when we talked on the phone. Its a great deal, if/when we do decide to buy it, and I think this is a good thing.

While it also means I'll basically be staying in probation for the rest of my life, or at least for the next few years, I think I'm okay with that. No, I am. Its what's going to help us get our bills paid and the future of our family needs stability. There's nothing wrong with getting involved in a church and teaching Sunday School, or even youth pastoring or sponsoring in my free time.

I don't really look at it as giving up on a dream or anything, either. Because my dream has always been to be a great dad and a great husband, and whatever else - where my career is concerned - is secondary. To me, fulfilling the calling of being a husband and dad is more important than preaching, teaching, and working in a church. If you can't pastor your family, how can you hope to pastor a hundred other people?

Some people may disagree with this, but frankly, I don't care what they think. I'd rather be a good dad in a stable job than a mediocre dad who has the job he dreamed of.

So yeah, lots of changes heading our way. Change of vision, change of home, change of cars... CHA-CHA-CHA-CHANGES!!!


Now that song is stuck in your head but you can't remember the words. You're welcome.

A Family Thing

Earlier this year, my wife and I had a conversation about things we can do as a family. You know, something we could all get into and enjoy. Something we could throw ourselves into during the summer time since all of our television shows will be showing reruns. You know, a real family thing.

We chose getting into a sport. Baseball.

I told my wife that as I have chosen the New York Jets as our official NFL team, she should pick our baseball team we cheer for. And, since we are fans of the New York Jets, my wife said she, for once, wanted to cheer for a team that didn't lose all the time.

Seriously? Two AFC Championship games in three years and the Jets are... well, they're the Jets. Who am I kidding?

She said she wanted to cheer for a winner. She then showed her ignorance of the sport of baseball by saying three teams she would want to cheer for: The Chicago Cubs, the Chicago White Sox, and the New York Yankees.

I pointed out she had said "Winner."

And that's how we became Yankee fans.

Some of my friends have a hard time with this. Mostly because we're now rooting for the "Evil Empire" of baseball (Believe it or not, that is not a Star Wars reference). Frankly, I don't care.

This is something we can get into together. Maybe its not the most popular team around (to me, that makes it even better), but they're our team now.

Later this fall, we really want to take a trip to Cleveland when the Yankees come to town. Even if we don't get to, though, it'll be nice to just have some summer nights spent watching some of America's past time and cheering for a team with a great history. As a family.

I'm a big supporter of kids participating in team sports. Even if they're not that good at it, I think sports can be a great thing for kids to get into. Sports teach us a lot about life, believe it or not.

Don't roll your eyes. Let me explain.

Cheering for a team when they're winning - that's easy. That's nothing. Cheering for a team when they're losing - that's loyalty. That's something I value in friends. In sports, its more than just being a fan, that's being faithful. There's something to that.

Remembering stats is a great way to introduce your kids to math. Batting Averages, On Base Percentage, adding up Runs Batted In. Math is all over sports like a politician on television come October. Not just percentages, but averages, speeds (pitches going around ninety miles an hour).

History in sports. Tradition. That stuff is important. Records, when they're set and when they're broke. They make great conversation if nothing else on family trips. In ten years, we could talk about whether or not Barry Bonds belongs in the Hall of Fame or not. Well, we could talk about that right now, except the extent of my daughter's baseball knowledge is limited to only identifying the ball at this point.

There's also rivalry. Competition. There's nothing wrong with a little bit of that, either. Having a healthy dose of anger at a certain team because they beat your guys last week and the euphoria of satisfaction when your team sweeps them the next time around.

Most importantly, I think sports can teach our kids one thing that many of us fail to grasp even as adults.

They teach us how to lose. How to hate losing, but to accept it. Baseball, in my opinion, is a sport of second chances. Strike out at your first at bat? That's fine. You'll get another chance later. Don't get a hit all night? Its a long season (162 games), so don't let it get you down. Don't make the playoffs? There's always next year (you're welcome, Cub fans).

Its okay to hate losing, because nobody should enjoy it. However, its important to know how to take defeat, hang your head for a moment, and face the day tomorrow. Life goes on after that final out, that last whistle, the last quarter.

I'm not saying you're a bad parent because you don't get your kid involved in hockey, or you're shortchanging your son if you don't force him to play some football in the backyard now and then, and if your daughter has no interest in softball or volleyball or cheerleading, that doesn't mean she's a failure as a kid.

To me, the most important thing about the sports we watch is that we can watch them as a family. That makes even losing okay with me.

Except we're Yankee fans, and we don't have to worry about that very often.

Nerds Run Everything

Excuse me while I let my inner-Geek out to write this blog.

Wait. There is no inner-Geek? Just me? Well, that's interesting. I guess that explains a lot.

Maybe, if you've read this blog long enough, you've been able pick up on that for yourself. With the Doctor Who references, Gandalf quotes, and mentioning a character named Kvothe.

If you did not understand a single word of that last sentence, you are free to go.

I've noticed my daughter is slightly turning to this dark side. She'll sit and watch Doctor Who with me and she enjoys watching Yoda on Star Wars (Probably because he talks a lot like Grover from Sesame Street - thank you Frank Oz).

Recently, I stumbled upon a Podcast titled "The Geekdads." While I sometimes listen to these guys talk thinking I am a silent part of their conversation, their "nerdage" far outweighs my own.

And I can respect that.

They talk about apps they use, conventions they attend where real robots chainsaw each other to death, or a movie that's about to come out involving a certain super soldier, god of thunder, billionaire inventor, and a couple of spies saving the world. Oh, and a big, green Hulk.

HULK SMASH!!!!

Sorry, couldn't resist.

Its a pretty interesting Podcast, though, that kind of makes guys like me not feel so alone in raising our kids to be world class nerds. Some people may think that's stupid. You want your kids to be strong and able to stick up for themselves. And yeah, that's true.

But Nerds run everything.

And I'm okay with my kid being a nerd.

One nerdy thing we're planning on doing is going to the Creation Museum in Cincinnati later this year. Its only a few hours away, and I am actually pretty excited for it. Some people may think true geeks/nerds would go to something like that to make fun of it, but I'm actually a Creationist nerd. I love young earth theory, and love to see the science of it. I will say this about this somewhat controversial topic and then move on: If you're a Christian, that means you believe God raised Christ from the dead and intend to someday send Him back to rapture us up. Why's it so much harder to believe the same God could not have created the earth out of nothing? He's a God of miracles, right?

Okay, just saying. I'm not looking for a debate on the topic. Just expressing my own views on my own blog.

So yeah, that's something we want to do. Creation Museum.

Another thing my wife has taken to doing is playing an alphabet game on the Fisher Price website, or Sesame Street website, or something. I don't know the exact address. I just know my kid's learning the ABC's really well.

Yes, I also use apps to help me in parenting. Rather than carrying around a notebook full of things I need to remember, I keep notes on my iPhone. I use Evernote, which also syncs with my desktop so that I can write something down on my computer and have it with me on my phone. Since I have an iPhone 4S, I also use Siri to remind me of things coming up in the next few days. Of course, I use my calendar to remind me about upcoming doctor appointments, speech therapy, paying daycare bills, etc. I also use Instagram to post ultra-cute pictures of my kid to twitter. So there's a lot out there, you just have to figure out what works for you and how to use it.

Starbucks was giving away a Dora the Explorer game for the iPhone, too. That didn't go over so well. Evie lost interest after only a few minutes.

I'm not saying you have to have a smartphone to be a good parent, by the way, just saying that these are some things that help me not be so forgetful.

Sometimes we have movie marathons. Yes, some of those involve Pixar movies like Toy Story or ... actually all we've watched lately is Toy Story. But a few months back we watched some Star Wars together. Before that we watched some old Superman cartoons. I mean 1940's Superman cartoons.

I admit that during the Superman cartoons, Evie was napping and I was watching, but hey, nobody's judging here.

The fact is, I think its okay to let your kid be involved in your nerd stuff. Whether you're a sports nerd, comic geek or one hundred percent Whovian, its great making it a family experience.

Because, like I said, Nerds run everything.

Vocabulary

Its no big secret we've got to go through speech therapy with our daughter. Kim, the lady who comes to the house and actually works with her for an hour each Thursday, has done a spectacular job so far. In fact, if we really wanted to no longer do therapy, there's a very good chance Evie would be fine, however they're afraid if she "fell through the cracks" and didn't continue, she may have a harder time communicating when she gets older.

So for the past week, anytime my daughter expresses a new word, I've taken to writing it down. I meticulously keep track, noting every single piece of her vocabulary, so that I can inform Kim when she stops by for the next session. Today I dropped about thirty new words on her, which blew her mind.

Progression continues.

The one thing I've noticed is, even though in the therapy sessions, Kim tries to get Evie to use sign language to express herself and associate motions with words, Evie only remembers one motion and one word: MORE.

How do I describe sign language? I don't have pictures here to illustrate this, so I'll just do what I can to describe what it looks like. Take your fingers, straiten them all out, and then try to touch all your finger tips to the tip of your thumb. Hold them there. Now, take your right hand in front of you and your left hand, and touch the finger tips of both hands together. Do this a few times while saying "more" and you've probably got it figured out.

If you do this around someone who actually knows sign language, and they laugh at you because you actually said something like, "Tomato Face," then I can't help you. You clearly read my perfect instructions incorrectly.

That's sarcasm dripping in that last sentence, by the way.

"More," my daughter says, along with the hand motions, when she wants more potato chips. More fries. More crayons. More Elmo on the t.v.

Greedy little booger.

With her vocabulary expanding, though, she doesn't even really use the sign language unless its during therapy. At home, with just me, Evie will say, "More" and point at what she wants.

If I were to imagine her thought process, it would probably go something like, "What's the word I get to make the big person do my bidding? Mow? Moe? Hmm... oh yeah. MORE!!!"

I typically oblige, but sometimes the jelly beans are mine. Now go sit down and finish your Sesame Street.

Not gonna lie here, I'm enjoying this. When she learns a new word, or a new sound, its like small trophies. The other day she brought me a plastic polar bear we bought her and said, "Ber. Roar."

I laughed. "Yep, ROAR!!!" And she mimicked it.

Here's the scary thing: a lot of the words she's saying? She's only heard them once.

Time to start spelling things...