June 2008 - Posts

• Return to the 4th Circle of Hell - The Portrait Studio

  So, some of you may remember my post about trying to get mother’s day pictures a few weeks ago. http://familiesonly.com/Community/blogs/overdad/archive/2008/06/05/a-picture-is-worth-not-nearly-the-amount-of-stress-it-takes-to-get-one.aspx Well, the holiday had passed, but the idea still seemed like a good one.  Besides, I had spent all that money buying stupid matching clothes.  So I decided to brave the winds of insanity once again.  I gave the kids baths, dressed them up in their cute little outfits, and headed off to the picture place.  When we arrived, all three kids were in a good mood, but I could see it starting to slip.  Micah was starting to fuss.  Asher kept asking for things to eat.  Audra fell into her usual habit of preening in front of adults in hopes that they would complement her.  We sat there and sat there, waiting to be called out.  I wanted to yell out, “Hurry up!  Can’t you see the window is closing?  Can’t you see that my children are about to turn from adorable angels into balls of tears and snot and hair pulling?” Eventually they called us, but before we even got back to the studio, I knew it was too late.  The window was officially closed and someone had already started to paint it shut.  The best we could do was take picture through the window at what my children could have looked like.  It would be a little blurry, but it was worth a shot, and because I’m an idiot, we tried anyway.  Audra was doing great.  Her illness induced droopy eye was gone.  Asher was even doing ok, but Micah was toast.  30 minutes past nap time, he couldn’t sit still and if anyone tried to make him, screams and tears were his answer – a very effective answer at that. We took several photos.  I would position Micah, coax a smile out of him and then jump clear of the camera, all to no avail.  Inevitably, Micah would change from smiles to anguish, Asher would choose that moment to study the ceiling tiles, or the photographer would decide to wait a half second to long, providing me a horribly accurate picture of my tired, hungry, cranky children instead of the deceptive one I wanted that portrayed them as eternally peaceful, loving and pleasant - like Shirley Temple on quaaludes. Eventually I turned to the 15 year old photographer and told her to stop wasting her pixels.  We rescheduled for two hours later, I squeezed Micah into a sling (yeah, I still carry my 11 month old in a sling.  You got a problem with that?  It’s sort of like stuffing a sausage, but he likes it).  Micah promptly fell asleep, exhausted from all of his hard work disrupting the family photo.  We walked around, we had lunch and two hours later I had appreciably happier children.  Asher, of course had a big stain on his pants and Micah’s hair was sticking up in odd places, but they were, once again, reasonably pleasant looking kids. We went back to the studios and I watched as that window started to close again, but luckily we got the photos taken before it closed completely.  They’re not going to win any awards, but they won’t cause CPS to show up at my door either, so all in all I’d call them a success.        Of Course, they can't all be winners:   Posted Jun 30 2008, 05:21 AM by superdad with no comments Filed under: Audra, photo, Asher, Better off Dad, Micah [Edit Tags]

• Why God Created Beer

  So today just plain sucked.  That’s all there is to it. Did you ever have one of those days where you wake up and you just know immediately that it’s going to be a bad day?  Well, this wasn’t one of those days.  When I woke up, everything seemed fine.  I went downstairs, had some prayer time, drank some coffee, puttered around the kitchen a little (I do love me some puttering).  No, my realization that perhaps things weren’t going to go my way today was when I went out the car to load in something that needed to be returned (because I’m organized and responsible that way) and noticed that my stroller wasn’t in the car. Wasn’t there.  Just a big, empty, strollerless space.  My fancypants, cost way too much stroller that I dearly loved and recommended to everyone I knew, was not there! I went inside and was just about to ask my wife where the stroller was (this is what happens when you let a woman borrow a minivan – they can’t handle the power and responsibility) and before I could get a word out, she says, “Did you know the stroller’s not in the car?” Uh oh. I literally stood there silently for about a full minute thinking, “where the heck is the stroller?”  It was clearly not in the car or in the garage.  Where could it be?  The only thing I could think of was that I must have somehow forgotten to load it back in the car when I was shopping yesterday.  This seemed inconceivable to me, though.  How do you forget a stroller?  It’s big and it frequently has children attached to it.  It seems like it would be hard to lose. I had to drive Sarah to the metro, and I spent the entire time running various scenarios through my head, but “just left it on the sidewalk” was the only thing I could even come up with.  That was the only place I had even been. After I dropped Sarah off, I drove back to the little outdoor mall where I presumably had left it.  To no one’s surprise, it was not sitting on the sidewalk waiting for me.  I flagged down a security guard who assured me that it had not been turned in, because he would know, and then reassuringly suggested that it had probably just been stolen. I drove the kids to Dunkin Donuts and sat there completely bummed while they ate and giggled.  I was holding Micah on my lap, because this idiot Dunkin Donuts didn’t have a highchair (Your on my list DD!)  I then looked over and saw that my two year old Asher had taken three glazed munchkins and was smushing them onto his head, simultaneously ruining his breakfast and giving himself frosted highlights – literally.  Because of my current state of mind and because it might very well have been the appropriate thing to do, I immediately snapped at him, causing him to drop said munchkins all over the floor and burst into tears in the middle of the donut shop.  Everybody loves breakfast and a show. Donut time officially over, I loaded everyone in the car and took Audra to a Vacation Bible School camp that a friend had invited her.  As I dropped her off, she said “I LOVE going to Jillian’s VBS!” thus reminding me that the VBS that I had been organizing for our church for the last few years is clearly subpar. I then had a car appointment to check on some road noise that seemed to be growing louder and louder in the minivan.  The guy at the shop informed me that the tires we had were wearing thin and we would need to replace them soon. Now, this would be unwelcome news for anyone, I’m sure, but there were two facts that made this particularly frustrating for me to hear.  1.  For reasons that aren’t worth explaining, we have to get these special, expensive tires for our van (this is what happens when you buy a used car) 2.  We had just replaced the tires IN OCTOBER! That’s right; we had just put brand new tires on the car 8 months ago!  I was literally still getting over how expensive the tires had been, and this guy is telling me that we need new ones? To be fair, it turns out that we had driven the car over 30,000 miles since October.  (Thank heavens gas prices are $4 a gallon huh?  I don’t even want to do the math on that one). So I went home – cranky and frustrated. Did I mention that during everything that happened so far, I would estimate that Micah had been crying during 80% of it?  A continuous, droning caterwaul only briefly sated by the occasional bottle or donut. Sarah and I had finally decided the night before that we were going to take the plunge and buy season tickets to the Kennedy Center’s theater series.  It was expensive, but there were some great shows coming and, with three kids, it would be nice to have some dates lined up for the two of us to go out and get us some culture.  However, faced with the prospect of needing to buy a 2nd set of tires within a single calendar year, and apparently buy a new stroller, that pot of money set aside for theatrical diversions was suddenly not there. (I had almost gone ahead and bought the tickets yesterday.  Really wish I had done that). The kicker of the whole day is that by this point in the day IT WAS ONLY 10:00 am!  That’s right all this pain and misery had been squeezed into a couple of hours, sort of like one of those cool whip canisters where they manage to squeeze 5 cubic feet of whipped cream into a Lysol can.  I felt like I had a few cubic ounces of liquid crap inside me and someone added a container of aerosol and it just covered me up completely. This would be the point where I tell you that the rest of the day turned out ok.  It didn’t.  When I went to talk to the people at the mall about the stroller, they said that “the trash people had taken it.”  The “trash people” (I swear I’m envisioning oompa loompas)  had not, however, taken it to lost and found.  The rest of the day was spent with cleaning, quiet weeping and, I’ll just say it, a corona at about 3:00 while the kids were sleeping.  That night Sarah and I had tickets to a Melissa Etheridge concert.  I was really looking forward to it.  I truly wanted to be the only one to walk across a fire for her.  Unfortunately, the sound in the concert hall was terrible.  The predominant noise on every song (I wish to heaven I was joking) was bass and cowbell.  You really couldn’t hear the guitar, piano or vocals.  Everything sounded like they were singing in a giant cube of Jell-o.  (Side note – I have never seen so many women in polo shirts in my life!).  I think Melissa can still sing pretty well, I just have no actual proof of that. So the day was pretty much a bust, start to finish.  But here’s the interesting thing.  (ready to be interested?  Cause I’m not entirely sure that the rest of this article would have gotten you there).  In the past, a day like today would really have depressed me.  Not a deep, dark, clinical depression, but the kind that lingers for a few days and colors everything you do. (Hmmm, maybe that is a deep, dark clinical depression) But, I’m actually doing ok.  Don’t get me wrong.  I was pretty frustrated and bummed out for a while, and I’m still really embarrassed, irritated and ticked off about my stroller, but I’m doing ok.  Maybe it was that prayer time back at the beginning of the day.  Maybe it was the corona.  (It should have been Melissa Etheridge, but that concert blew chunks like a monkey on ipecac) I’m not entirely sure what the take away lesson from all this is.  Maybe it’s that I’ve grown a little.  Or maybe it’s that by now I’m used to crappy stuff happening to me and it doesn’t faze me as much.  Or maybe it’s that I am a little better able to keep a healthy perspective on the insignificance and inanity of my own problems compared to real suffering in the world. And the big take away lesson?  Check and make sure you put the stupid stroller in the car before you drive away. Posted Jun 27 2008, 05:25 AM by superdad with no comments Filed under: Better off Dad [Edit Tags]

• Bumper Stinkers

  I read an article today about a recent study that essentially concluded that the more bumper stickers you have on your car the more likely you are to be a total nutjob and try to run somebody off the road.    http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2008/06/15/AR2008061501963.html?sub=AR   The basic premise is that the more people personalize their vehicles with bumper stickers, the more they view that car as an extension of their personal space and the more likely they are to beat you with a tire iron if you, literally or metaphorically, get up in their grill.   I can buy that to some extent, although I’ve got to give a pass to those crazy cars you see with 500 bumper stickers that essentially have become a combination of paint job / tape holding the bumper to the chassis.    Usually these people are just poor college kids trying to make their crappy looking car seem hip as a means of standing out from the crowd.  On second thought, maybe you should avoid these cars.  I drive by a community college on a regular basis and let’s just say that the driving there is a car repair center’s dream.  I would say that on average, I personally witnessed a fender bender once a week.  Maybe it’s because they were trying to get up close to read the bumper stickers.   Anyway, the report indicates that the more bumper stickers you have, the more likely you are to be territorial and therefore the more likely you are to take out your marital problems on the person trying to pass you on the right.  This is probably true, but I think the people that scare me the most are those who have only one bumper sticker.  Now I’m not talking about those folks with the   “my kid is an honor student – nice kid – attendee - at Hoover Middle School”   bumper stickers.  Those parents are either very proud, or more likely, were guilted into putting the bumper sticker on their car.  I’ll also give a pass to folks with a single bumper sticker supporting their political candidate, church, union, sports team etc.  We all have things we support, even if it’s sometimes a little irrational.    No, my concern is the people who have a single bumper sticker on their otherwise pristine car that says something really random.  How often have you driven past a car with one bumper sticker that says something like   Jesus is Coming - Look Busy   I brake for Penguins   Ever stop to think and forget to start again   I had a great time at Wonder World   Calvin peeing on a ford symbol   These are far from the funniest bumper stickers out there, some of them don’t even make sense (why exactly is Calvin peeing on a Ford symbol?)  Here’s my concern.  If you have a hundred bumper stickers on your car, then having one that says   “Visualize using your turn signal”    is just one more amusing tidbit, but if that’s the only thing on your car, then that is the only thing I know about you.  It leads me to believe that either turn signals are the most important thing in your life, or that this was, in fact, the funniest thing you had ever seen in your life and that you just had to buy it, OR, more likely, that you’re an idiot.   People who wear stupid t-shirts like   “Your boyfriend is a good kisser”    or   “This isn’t a bald spot, it’s a solar panel for a sex machine”   look like morons, but, presumably, they’ll put on a different asinine shirt the next day to at least mix it up some.  People who put a   “Driver Carries no Cash, He’s Married”   bumper sticker on their car just look like unfunny jerks all the time.   Again, I feel like these are the people to avoid while driving.  The people who could have chosen a million different bumper stickers to put on their car, supporting a million different causes or issues and instead just slapped a   “WXBQ – Home of Today’s Hot Country”    sticker on are the ones that scare me.  What does this say about you?  That you love country music more than anything?  That your most closely cherished belief is that WXBQ is truly THE home of today’s hot country?  Or, most likely, that you are a person of questionable judgment and that you should be avoided at all costs.   Random bumper stickers – God’s little signal to give this person a wide berth on the highway.   Posted Jun 26 2008, 07:12 AM by superdad with no comments Filed under: photo, news, Better off Dad [Edit Tags]

• CNN Loses Its Mind

  I was just on CNN.com a few minutes ago, just perusing the headlines.  I’m a bit of a news junkie and like to stay informed so I can at least pretend that I am smart and part of the greater culture, and not just someone who changes diapers and folds laundry (ah who am I kidding, nobody gets around to folding laundry here).  But I’ll bore you with my news desires later.  I’m sure a whole entry could be dedicated to my NPR obsession (mmmm, Nina Totenberg) Anyway, I’m reading through CNN’s list of headlines, which as usual, is a combination of actual News “Dozens Die as Battle Rages in Afghanistan,” and absolute mindless drivel posing as news, “Lindsay Lohan Decapitates self while using eyelash curler.” Then I noticed that beside some of the headlines was a little picture of a video camera.  Obvious enough, they had videos you could watch.  That’s nice.  But then beside some of the video cameras was a little tiny t-shirt.  What the? So I clicked on the t-shirt to discover that (for reasons that are entirely unclear to me) you can buy a t-shirt with that headline printed on it.  For a mere $19.99 they will ship you a t-shirt with a headline on it and the time and date that you accessed the article and a tagline that says “I just saw it on CNN.com.” The one that first caught my attention was a headline called “Colleague Cracks up ‘The Office’ Star.” http://www.cnn.com/tshirt/?headline=Colleague%20cracks%20up%20'The%20Office'%20star&fhash=fd975eabc38ea9fb6649831a37053d1a&date=1213742089000&hash=976b1415a06b33ee6cac1e0fc6235945&return_uri=http://www.cnn.com/video/%23/video/showbiz/2008/06/17/lkl.steve.carell.sot.cnn So it turns out that the article is actually a mildly amusing 1 minute clip of Larry King interviewing Steve Carell where Carell describes this one time where they were filming a scene and couldn’t stop laughing. Ok. There’s nothing particularly surprising (or for that matter newsworthy) about the fact that while filming a comedy, a bunch of comedians occasionally make one another laugh.  And it’s innocuous enough if CNN wants to put up a short clip from one of their TV shows.  Sure.  Fine.  Whatever. But who is buying a T-shirt that says “Colleague Cracks up ‘The Office’ Star?” It is just beyond my ability to fathom who this is being directed at.  I literally can not envision a single person or personality in existence who would decide to wear a t-shirt advertising a 1 minute throw away video clip from Larry King, much less paying $20 for it.  I don’t necessarily think this is one of those “What is America coming to” moments, butt it may very well be one of those “What is Wolf Blitzer coming to” moments.  Although to be fair, I have those pretty frequently.  I know that the underlying objective of any news agency is to make money, but still.  This is just too odd.  What’s next?  CNN cereal?  Lou Dobbs anti-immigrant fences?  Anderson Cooper thongs?  (actually, I know some ladies that might be interested in those) But unless I see a t-shirt that says, “CNN Admits to being probably only ‘2nd Best Political Team on Television” Or “CNN reveals that Wolf Blitzer’s Real Name is Ernest Schankowitz”   I’ve probably got a better use for $20.  Like donating it to NPR. Posted Jun 25 2008, 07:56 AM by superdad with no comments Filed under: news, Better off Dad [Edit Tags]

• Things to Be Scared of this Week with Rev. James Dorbson

  Uh... this is a parody    Dear Friends, Each week in my column, Things to be Scared of this Week with Rev. James Dorbson , I try to bring your attention to the various aspects of our hedonistic culture that are laying siege to the American family.  In the past I have alerted you to those Harry Potter books and the rise of witchcraft and blood drinking in our nation’s elementary schools and of Dora the Explorer and her secret pro-illegal-immigrant agenda and her efforts to have all human cartographers outsourced to singing maps.   This week, however, our young daughters and effeminate sons are being visited by an even more insidious character than that of Mr. Potter and Ms. Explorer.  I have recently learned of a movie that is full of many of the same evils that made the Harry Potter books such a danger to a child’s spiritual well being.  There is parental disobedience, witchcraft, lust, transfiguration of animals, coveting of other’s possessions and a system of arranged marriages based on shoe size (very Mormon).   This movie is called Cinderella and chances are that your daughter has already been exposed to this harbinger of monarchical mayhem in stores, the media, and for those of you still foolish enough to attend them – the public schools.  It is made, unsurprisingly, by the Disney Company, who tries to poison the minds of children when they’re not inviting homosexuals to cavort through their park.   The movies begin with a scullery maid who doesn’t accept her place in life.  Does Colossians 3:22 not clearly state “Slaves obey your masters in everything?”  But this Cinderella, or should I call her Sinderella has no respect for God’s word.  She openly rejects her role and tries to subvert her master, the much maligned “wicked step mother.”   Sinderella is a lazy and disobedient girl who spends her time talking to what I can only assume are demon possessed mice who talk and dress up in human clothing that covers their torsos yet still leaves their rodent nether regions uncovered for all to see.  When she fails to complete her chores, she is unwilling to accept the perfectly reasonable punishment of not attending that night’s dance (unholy in and of itself – nothing more than vertical sex waiting for a horizontal opportunity).  Does Sinderella repent and seek to change her ways?  Does she pray to God and ask for forgiveness for breaking several commandments?  Indeed not, she turns to her clearly wiccan heritage and summons a witch to come to her assistance.   A bumbling old woman appears, wand in hand, and commences to perform spell after spell, changing animals into people, creating dresses and jewelry out of thin air, and teaching each of our precious children that there is no need to work for the desires of your heart when the mystical magic of the occult can bring these things to you for free.   Like the witchcraft and magic performed throughout the Harry Potter books this is particularly dangerous because it portrays the use of satanic ritual as cute and appealing to children.  The kindly looking lady waves her Devil stick while chanting magical words over and over, all to a catchy tune that will surely have your children unwittingly participating in this unholy ritual.  And unfortunately, dear parent, these are not merely nonsensical words, but rather deeply evil phrases that have no other purpose but to tear your child from God and deliver him into the waiting clutches of the Prince of Darkness.  For instance, if you take the lyrics “Sala Gadoola”  and write them backward, you get “A loo Dag Ala S.”  It starts off with toilet humor and ends with a clear praise of the Muslim “god” Allah, followed by the sound of the serpent ‘Sssss.”  (Dag Ala – translation?  “Wow!  Allah!”)   From here the movie spirals downward into a full out embrace of Satanism while continuing to wrap the whole package in seemingly benign images of castles, princes and shape shifting vegetables.  I implore you to speak out against this evil.  It has already infected our society, with children asking to dress up as this wiccan harlot and even to visit her lair, er castle, in that axis of evil and immorality – Orlando.   Petition your local library to remove Sinderella from its shelves, hold a book and video burning at your local wiccan distribution center (Target), and consider organizing a protest at somewhere visible like city hall or Krispy Kreme.    Our children are imperiled day in and day out by Satan’s growing control of this world.  We must rise up and fight back if we are to protect them from these evils.  So until next week, be scared. Posted Jun 18 2008, 05:31 AM by superdad with no comments Filed under: religion, Better off Dad, parody [Edit Tags]

• I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For

  My children have an inability to look for things.  I’m not even entirely sure that they understand the concept.  For instance,  I will say to them: “Go find your shoes.” But apparently, what they hear me say is: “Go into the other room and stand in the middle of it for a few seconds staring half way up the wall.  Then look down at the floor and begin playing with whatever toy you see there.” I know that they’re young, but I am sometimes astounded at their inability to carry through with this relatively simple task.  I can hear the phrase “I still haven’t found it” a dozen times in one morning.  Usually while the child stares at the same square foot of floor that they’ve already looked at a dozen times.  It’s like a broken U2 record in here. Shoes in particular seem to be the great mystery object in our house.  I’m sure if I said “go find the snickers bar that Daddy has hidden in one of the air vents” that they would have it in their hand in a matter of seconds, but a size 8 sneaker could be the only object in a barren room and still be virtually invisible. Over the last few days, I have spent an inordinate amount of time trying to find shoes for my son.  He has one sandal that I have literally spent hours searching for and has just vanished into the ether.  The sad part is that I have made efforts to combat this.  I bought this really cool shoe holder from Ikea that sits right against the wall in our entry way.  http://www.ikea.com/us/en/catalog/products/10099048   My plan was that we would all take our shoes off when we came in the house and stick them in there so we don’t lose them. I understand that this is a lot to ask of a two year old, (and apparently my wife and I, for that matter), but boy it seemed like a good idea.  But instead, my son usually runs in the house straight to the playroom and take his shoes off in the midst of all the toys and then, apparently, meticulously covers them with other toys so we will never be able to find them again. Yesterday his sneakers were gone and his one sandal is still missing and I was this close to dressing him in a pair of his Mary Jane’s and hitting the road, but I finally uncovered the sneakers under a pile of stuffed animals.  I could hardly blame the kids that time considering it only took me half an hour to track down the shoes, but it doesn’t mean my blood pressure was any lower when we left the house half an hour late. I remember seeing an article about how some people (presumably in New Jersey) have make-up permanently dyed on to their face in lieu of, say, eyebrows.  I’ve been wondering if there was some similar procedure for shoes.  Because if there was, I might never have to tell my kids to “go look for _______” again and that would be a minor miracle. Of course, there also appears to be a shorts shortage in our house, and I am apparently the only one competent to go sort the shorts from the skorts.   So, I guess it wouldn’t make that much difference anyhow.  Maybe I’ll just nail the shoes to their feet.  Gangrene seems like a small price to pay. Posted Jun 17 2008, 05:25 AM by superdad with no comments Filed under: Asher, Better off Dad [Edit Tags]

• Mr. Mom Whines a Little

  I was at Target last week.  I mean, who wasn’t.  And after an hour or so of corralling my children through the store I was finally checking out - nearing the finish line.  Victory, or at least my minivan, were just moments away.  I could taste it.   My 10 month old was wadded up comfortably in a sling against my stomach, my toddler was sitting in the cart reaching desperately for the electronic signature pin so that he could, say, request $100 cash back, and my 5 year old daughter was trying to decide which impulse item it would be most fun to take off the rack and ask for: travel pack of Q tips?  A flash drive shaped like Homer Simpson?  Beef jerky?   All in all, it was a fairly typical moment.  Three kids with three agendas, were each more or less behaving themselves as they basked in the fluorescent sunbeams of a store that can provide you butter, axel grease and tampons, all with “design!”   The cashier was middle aged (a term that I continue to use to describe people much older than me, which would put “end” age at approximately 127).  She had long nails that clacked on the register keys and poofy hair that suggested Ms. Clairol was not merely a close friend, but possibly even a sorority sister.   She smiled down at my kids while dragging a box of Capri suns across the scanner - beep.  At first I thought the smile was going to lead to the classic, “I remember when my kids were that age…” conversation.  You know how it goes: “Oh really, how old are they now?”  beep “35 and 32,” beep beep “Wow, it’s been a long time since you had to buy diapers”  begin putting bags in cart “Ha ha ha” enter pin number as fast as humanly possible. “You take care of those angels, they grow up so fast,” take signature pen out of son’s hand before he cancels order “I sure will.  Have a nice day,” grab travel KY Jelly out of daughter’s hand, place back on rack and make for the door.   But it turned out that her smile wasn’t the smile that starts the ‘kids grow up fast’ conversation.  It started off as that smile, the eyes were crinkled appropriately, the head tilted to the side just so, but then it changed.  The head pointed down just a hair and the smile tightened, passing right past sweet reminiscence and straight into condescending elderly commentary.  I could feel my own smile tense before she even spoke.   “You’ve got your hands full.”  Here it comes. “Yes ma’am.”  Pretend to look down at daughter, so the cashier doesn’t see eyes starting to roll.   “Are you giving Mommy the day off?”  And there it is.   I doubt there’s a stay at home Dad out there that hasn’t heard that one, probably weekly.  In the pantheon of comments it’s somewhere above “Oh, so you’re Mr. Mom,” and somewhere below “What did you used to do when you actually worked?”   I don’t know why it bugs me.  It’s a perfectly reasonable thing to say.  Statistically it’s a good guess, and it’s always said with a hint of admiration.  That admiration being mixed with a giant dollop of condescension and baked for 45 minutes in a cream sauce of “isn’t it nice that the male sex has produced someone capable of going to the store once a month so the poor beleaguered mother can rest her aching heels from all that she does to support this lovely family that you occasionally help out with.”   For whatever reason, I spent the next 20 minutes ruminating on this interchange while I finished checking out, loading up the van and heading home.  You see, the real downside to the “so you’re giving Mom a break” comment is that I then have to figure out how to respond.  I can lie and say “yep,” and get the hell out of there.  I can joke and say, “Yeah, I’m giving her a break today, and tomorrow, and the rest of the decade…” (Ok, I know that’s not really a joke as much as it’s a bitchy comment, but work with me here).  Or I can take the time to inform her about the increasing trend of active stay at home Dads in America and how we are becoming a growing demographic with a specific benefit to our families and society as a whole.   In Dad circles we call these three options: Extricate, alienate, or educate.,,, ok, actually we don’t.  No one has ever said that.  I just made it up.  It is catchy though, don’t you think?    Needless to say, 90% of the time I extricate.  Why?  It’s not because I’m embarrassed.  I’m not.  I’m proud of what I do and I think I do a pretty good job of it most of the time.  I even like my minivan.  God help me I like the minivan (to be fair, it does have a sunroof).    It’s just that explaining what I do then leads to a series of other annoying comments.  Occasionally, you get the blank eyed stare of horror as if you had just said, “well, I had four kids, but we ate one,” but 9 times out of 10, you get the overcompensating positive response, which almost always goes something along the lines of: “Oh, that’s so wonderful.  You know, my cousin’s daughter’s husband stays home with their kids and that seems to be going well.”   Translation: “My crazy cousin’s daughter has put work before family, mainly to support her lazy good for nothing husband who at least hasn’t killed the children yet.”   That may be harsh but, believe me; it’s not far from the truth.  Occasionally I run into someone who does seem to sincerely think it’s nice that I’m staying home with the kids.  But the key word here is “nice.”  The same kind of “nice” people reserve for telling people in wheelchairs, “Wow, it sure is nice that even though you don’t have legs and your life is essentially a meaningless black whole of depression since you can’t do all this great walking that I get to do, that you still can get out and wheel around Target.  That’s so nice.”   There’s usually just a hair of condescension.  An Amy Winehouse hair, mind you, but a hair.   I’m sure I sound like I’m complaining, possibly even whining, which I truly must apologize for, because as the father of a 5 year old I recognize that the last thing this planet needs is more whining.  Forget worrying about global warming.  I would gladly let California disappear into the ocean if it meant we could put an end to global whining.   No, I don’t mean to complain, and I rarely do.  It really isn’t that big of a deal.  It’s also not anything new.  Lots of people are subjected to these kinds of false assumptions, many with much more negative consequences.  For me, it is frequently annoying, but rarely mean.  There’s something endearing to people about a man being with children, in the same way that it’s endearing to dress up a monkey.  Oh look, that man looks like a real caregiver when you put a baby bjorn on him.  See if you can get him to say something.  (This is why monkeys throw their poo.)    It’s just that every time this happens, it is a reminder that I’m not normal.  And if I’m not normal, I must be abnormal, which means I’m a freak.  Which means my kids will grow up as the children of freaks and only be able to work in second rate circuses that are always getting protested for beating their elephants.  Of course, then I stop and remind myself that I’m perfectly normal and that it’s not only ok, but a really great thing to be home with my kids, cooking meals, cleaning the house and doing laundry… and that’s what get me – the damn laundry.  Because then I realize that I forgot the one thing that we had all packed in the battle van and trekked down here for in the first place  - laundry soap.  Which means I now have to turn the van around and do the one thing I really, really don’t want to do - head back to Target. Posted Jun 16 2008, 06:56 AM by superdad with 1 comment(s) Filed under: SAHD, Better off Dad [Edit Tags]

• The Most Annoying Question in the World

  Ok, so it’s probably not the most annoying question in the world.  I suppose the most annoying question, would be something like: “Do you mind if I invade Poland” Or “Hello, may I come inside and tell you about the 4th testament of Jesus Christ where he brought his message to the Fraggles…. Down in Fraggle Rock?” I suppose those are more annoying.  But for quantity of annoyance alone, this question has to be near the top: “Daddy, what are we doing today?” This question is annoying, not because (as it seems on the surface) that it is a question about the days events, but because it is, in fact, 500 questions about the day’s events.  For instance: “Daddy, what are we doing today?” “We’re going to preschool.” “And what are we doing after that?” “I don’t know, we might run some errands” “What errands?” “Uh, … I’m not sure.  We need to go to Lowe’s and the grocery store and…” “I hate going to the grocery store.” “Don’t say “you hate” honey, it’s not very….” “Then what are we…” “…nice.” “...doing?” “I guess we’re going home.” “What are we doing at home?” “Well, we’ll see what time it is, but it will probably be nap time.” “I hate naps.  Will it be a long nap, or a short nap.” “I don’t know it depends on how much you annoy me to…” “What are we doing after naps?” Etc. Etc. Etc. I think it’s the endless aspect of the questions that make it so tedious.  Combine that with the knowledge that this series of questions will be repeated at least twice more today as well as every day for the rest of your life and it really starts to become unbearable.   On top of this is the “gotcha” factor, which is that if you should in any way deviate from the stated schedule of events you will be forced to explain your departure in excruciating detail.” “Daddy!  You said we were going to the grocery store after preschool and now we’re at Target! “I know, I ended up going grocery shopping while you were in preschool.” “But if I had known we were going to Target, I would have brought my money.  Why didn’t you tell me?” And on and on and on. My wife would be quick to point out that this is all my fault.  (She’s helpful that way). She would say that I have trained the children to understand that we are always going somewhere every day and that it is always something different and so the only way to know what’s going on is to ask.  Granted, my wife grew up on a 180 acre farm and they left the house exactly once a week to go to the library.   So I suppose if the answer to “what are we doing today” was always.  “Going outside to play.”  You’d stop asking after a while.  I suppose this will stop as some point.  Parents assure me that somewhere around the teenage years, the children stop talking to you altogether.  I can’t say that I’m welcoming that.  But maybe there will be a nice period of moderation in the 10-12 year old age.  One can only hope. Posted Jun 12 2008, 03:09 PM by superdad with no comments Filed under: Audra, Better off Dad [Edit Tags]

• The First Day of the Rest of Her Life

  Last week, my daughter had her last day of preschool.  For the last time, I drove her to the basement of a church, walked her inside and left her to make handprint pictures, crayon collages and fingerpaint portraits. In a few months (or, according to my daughter, this very instant) she will be a kindergartener and then a first grader, second grader, petulant teenager, college graduate and then she’ll leave us forever (unless I can convince her to move in next door). It’s just the first of a whole series of lasts, I know.  And her smile of excitement over being a kindergartener manages to diminish most of the pain I feel about the fact that she is inexplicably growing up and getting older… well at least getting older.  She’s in the 3rd percentile height wise, so the upward growing is minimal.  We’ve done a pretty good job raising her so far and she’s managed to shake off most of our parental mistakes without too much long term damage.  She’s a little sassier than I like (although I’m afraid I don’t have to look too far to know who to blame that on), but she’s also smarter, cuter and wonderfully quirkier than I ever dreamed.  About once a week, I’ll be out with my kids and I’ll run into some older parent who looks down at my little brood with eyes full of reminiscence.  The conversation invariably goes something like this. “How old are they?” “Well, Audra is 5, Asher is 2 and this little guy strapped to my chest is Micah and he’s 11 months.” Then, they will close their eyes for an instant and say, “Well my babies are now 34 and 29.” It’s a light joke, and a common one, but we all smile anyway and laugh.  Then, before they turn away, they invariably reach out to touch one of the kids, either to shake a hand, or tousle some hair and they say, “Make sure you spend time with them.  They grow up before you know it.” Sometimes it has been a long day, and all I can think in response is “Oh, I’ll spend time with them all right!  24/7 I’m spending time with them!” But usually, I’m able to slow down and think about what they’re saying.  And I know that it’s true.  I can hardly remember a time when I just had one child.  Heck, I can hardly remember what I had for lunch yesterday (chik-fil-a is always a good guess).   It is so easy to let the regular rolling rhythms of each day just lull us unnoticingly further and further along our path of life.  It takes effort to stop and take time to appreciate what we have this very instant - that 20- years from now I would probably give anything to have another chance to wipe catsup off my two year old son’s face.  So sometimes it takes an event, a graduation, to mark our place in time and remind us of how much has passed and how little is left. So today, I honor my little girl in all that she’s done and I pledge to try to be the father that listens to the old grannies of the world and takes each day as an opportunity to play with my kids, love my kids and watch them as they grow up before my eyes. Posted Jun 11 2008, 06:28 AM by superdad with no comments Filed under: Audra, Better off Dad [Edit Tags]

• The Ghost in the Woods

  Last night, after we put the kids to bed, my wife and I decided to go for a moonlight swim in the pool.  Our pool backs in to the woods and has a number of trees hanging over it.  This proximity to nature can be very nice.  It is frequently shady and cool out by the pool, but it can also lead to less positive experiences.  I have pulled mice, frogs, skinks, spiders and at least one small snake out of the pool skimmers.  Additionally, more than once, we’ve been relaxing, only to hear a giant crash off in the woods, followed by a deer galloping away.  This is actually a very nice experience once your heart starts beating regularly again.   Well last night, the Mrs. and I decided to go for a romantic swim in the pool.  We were swimming around -  talking, exercising, making out a little, when we heard a crash in the woods….. NOT followed by the sound of a galloping deer.  Now, I am not an easily spooked guy, but I’ve seen enough horror movies to know that when you are out in the woods, swimming around in the pool, is precisely when the hook handed man shows up to filet you like a soft bellied mackerel. Sarah and I nervously joked about this, reassuring ourselves, that at this point in our lives we were far from being the sexy, scantily dressed teenagers favored by metal appendaged psychos.  This unfortunately turned Sarah on to the thought, that someday OUR children would be the scantily clad, sexy teenagers swimming in the pool while the parents were out of town.  We found this much scarier than the previous thought, and both said a silent prayer that our children would be homely and acne ridden until about 25.  (thinking back to out 8th grade class photos, we’ve got a good shot at this).   So, relieved by the more realistic fear of our own children, Sarah and I continued to swim some more and that was when I heard it.  A clink, clink, over by the pool gate.  Now this was odd – very, very odd, because I don’t really remember the gate ever clinking before.  There wasn’t any wind and … well… clearly I was just freaking myself out over nothing. Sarah suggested that it was just the pool thermometer clinking against the steps.  This seemed highly improbable, but a better scenario than “nut job in hockey mask,” so I decided to pretend it was true.  We continued to talk until I heard a small moan over near the fence.  “Wait a second!” I whispered.  Sarah had clearly not heard the sound and just got angry.   “Stop it,” she said, “you’re freaking me out.” We swam some more, but I was concentrating more and more on that unnatural Blair Witch Project noise coming from the other side of the pool.  As sure as I was that pool thermometers didn’t clink, I KNEW they didn’t moan.  A few seconds later it was back.  Clink clink.  Clink clink.  I peered as intently as I could into the darkness over by the pool fence.  Without my glasses I couldn’t see crap.  I swam cautiously over to the edge of the pool.  My wife, smartly enough, staying safely in the middle. Our pool fence is black mesh.  You can see through it, but not at night.  I peered with all my might and thought I could make out the slight shadow of a small figure.  “Is there someone there?” I asked, my voice almost certainly quivering.  A small voice answered, “Hello.” Now I have to be honest.  My very first thought was that it was one of those damn kids from “The Shining” that was always showing up in hallways, acting all creepy, and then disappearing.  My next, equally freaky thought, was that it was some weird kid from the neighborhood who was wandering through the woods at 10:00 pm peering voyeuristically at the neighbors and trying to decide whose house to burn down. These were seriously my only two thoughts: crazed, creepy neighbor kid, or ghost. It was at this point that my wife says, “Audra?” “Hi mommy!” Our 5 year old had apparently been awakened by the dog whining outside her door, then heard voices in the yard, peered out the window and seen us in the pool, snuck downstairs, out of the house, across the lawn then spent at least 10 minutes standing silently at the pool gate, watching us, occasionally trying to open the child proof gate lock.  Clink clink. I could have killed her. Needless to say, this polished off any romantic urges that may have been swirling around in the background of the evening.  Sarah got out of the pool, took Audra back to bed and I put the pool cover back on and went inside to dry off.  I couldn’t believe we had gotten busted on our first night swimming without the kids.  It’s a good thing neither of us were the kinds of teenagers that went skinny dipping in secluded lakes, because I’m here to tell you, if my 5 year old can sneak up on us, we would have been easy pickings for a hook handed man.   Posted Jun 10 2008, 05:43 AM by superdad with no comments Filed under: daddy issues, pool, Audra [Edit Tags]

• Poops! He Did it Again

  So, we are in the process of potty training my 2 year old son.   It’s not much of a process, because I’m not one of those hard core potty trainer people.  I know people who have taken that route, and it has produced mixed results.     Naked weekends seem to be a popular method (believe me, it’s not nearly as much fun as you might think).  This involves stripping your child down to his bare necessities and letting him run around the house while asking him if he needs to go to the potty every few minutes.  I have one friend who did this with great success and another friend who did it with great success except for the fact that their child continued to wet the bed every night for a couple of years.  My favorite example is a mother of twins who said that one twin picked up on the concept immediately and was trained by the end of the weekend and the other twin showed no understanding what so ever and kept coming up to her during the day and saying “hey mom, there’s another puddle in the kitchen.  Where did that come from?”  So as much fun as chasing a nudey booty around the house with a roll of paper towels would be, I prefer the more “child centered” method of waiting till the child shows interest in the potty, occasionally reminding them, and more or less letting them train themselves.  Some might suggest that this is less “child centered” and more “Lazy parent centered,” but that’s just not a very nice thing to say.  Shockingly, this method worked very well with my older daughter.  She began pooping on the potty with great regularity and then eventually began peeing on the potty, then stopped urinating while sleeping and then just started wearing panties and we were done.  Now, it took a couple of months, but you can’t argue with the results.  Dr. Brazelton would be so proud.  This is more or less what we’re going through with my son now.  He has gotten to the point where he pretty regularly pees in the potty and holds it between bathroom breaks.  He likes to sit on the toilet, half way back with his legs spread wide at a 180 degree angle over both sides of the toilet, and then lean way forward with his hands on the seat.  Aside from some questionable hygiene issues and the fact that I have to completely remove his shoes and pants every time he goes to the bathroom, this method works very well, especially in keeping the firing device aimed down so that there are no liquid casualties on the linoleum (I know you all are just dying to get all of these details).   However, we have hit a few snags.   Pooping seems to be a  much more difficult concept for him.  Now I would have thought that of the two actions, defecation would be the one that you really saw coming, but apparently not.  He regularly poops in his diaper, although we have had a few positive outcomes on the toilet.  The problem is that Asher is a fairly independent young man, and since he can pee by himself he wants to do everything else by himself as well.  This has led to several incidents where I come into the bathroom and after some minor gagging have to remind him that when he wipes himself, he must must must USE TOILET PAPER!  Otherwise it is just really gross.  We have also had a few incidents with his overly curious interest in the toilet.  We were at California Tortilla recently and I was changing the diaper of my infant on the floor of the men’s bathroom (no changing table!  You’re on my list Cal Tortilla!) and I finished the job only to turn around and discover that Asher had his entire head peering down into the toilet bowl.  He literally had his shoulders braced on the toilet seat and was spelunking.  I of course screamed, more in guttural response than anything else, and he ripped his head out, banging it on the toilet seat and tears and a lot of purell ensued (what I really need as a parent is for somebody to take one of those spray on tanning booths and fill it with purell so you can put your kid inside and have 360 degrees of germ killer woosh over them.  I’d pay good money to use one of those.)  But I feel like we are making progress.  Yesterday I asked him if he had pooped in his diaper.  It used to be that he would just lie and say “no.”  This is possibly the worst lie ever, because the evidence was always pretty damning and it was pretty easy to get enough probable cause to perform a search.  But yesterday I detected a hint of something in the air and I asked him  “did you poop a little bit?”  “Nope,” he said.  “I pooped a bigger bit!”  And sure enough, he had. Posted Jun 09 2008, 05:08 AM by superdad with 1 comment(s) Filed under: daddy issues, diaper, Asher, potty training [Edit Tags]

• Action 10 News: Reporting Live from..... a playground!

  I organize a group of dads here in Maryland that get together for playgroups twice a week.  By “organize,” I mean I send out an email and by “get together,” I mean stand around drinking coffee while the kids cavort on a playground.  We usually talk about manly things like movies, home improvement projects, and the best way to get poop stains out of a pair of chinos. Because all of this is so fascinating, we have been the subject of several interviews over the last few years.  I think at least three Father’s Day stories have been done on us.  I guess it’s not too surprising.  I always envision the editors sitting around a room saying: “Hey!  What can we do for Father’s Day this year?” “I don’t know, fathers are mainly losers.  Haven’t you seen Everybody Loves Raymond?” “Well, does anyone know any fathers that aren’t losers?” (silence) “Hey what about those Mr. Mom Dads that stay at home with the kids like a woman?” “Yeah!  I think I read an article about that last Father’s Day” “Do you think they’re losers too?” "Oh, probably.  But they’re more newsworthy losers.” Or at least I imagine that’s how it probably goes. Over the years, we’ve also had a couple of TV segments done on our playgroup.  They are almost always positive and usually pretty similar to one another.  They tend to start off the same way: (cut to scene of a child being pushed on the swing – cue voiceover) “John is here at the park with his son.  But John doesn’t have the day off from work.  This is his job.  John is a stay at home Dad. The most interesting interview we’ve had is with a Japanese camera crew which was recording a segment for “Good Morning Japan,” which is apparently just like Good Morning America, but in Japan and without Diane Sawyer.   They were attracted to this story, because as unusual as a stay at home dad may be in America, it is apparently downright freakish in Japan.  The film crew was very nice, but based on their line of questions we were concerned that the tagline of the segment would be something like:   “Lazy American Fathers Don’t Even Work!  Hang out at Parks and Make Crappy Cars.”   The segment ended up being very nice.  Or at least I think it did.  I received a copy, along with a translation, but who knows what was really being said. It opened with a close up of a child on a swing: “This is a traditional American playground.  Children are laughing and playing..” (pull camera back to show whole playground) “But where are the mothers?” I continue to imagine that I am a minor celebrity in Japan and that if I ever travel there, I will be mobbed by people wanting to ask me about my alternative lifestyle.  That, or I am universally belittled as a freak.  Hard to say. So, when I was contacted by WBAL about a short segment on the emerging trend of father’s staying home with their kids, I wasn’t too worried.  I knew what to expect. The very nice news people arrived at the park, took some footage of kids on the swings, asked the questions I assumed they would ask ("How did you decide to become a stay at home dad?") and then shot a lot of footage of us Dads standing around talking while the kids fed the ducks.  All very picturesque. I think it went very well, with the possible exception of a couple of off-color jokes being told while we still had a body mike on us.  (In particular there was a several minute series of jokes about how we would treat our kids if they were ugly instead of the gorgeous creatures they are.  You know, someone tossing out inanities like: “my boy was so ugly, the only way we could get the dog to play with him was to tie a porkchop around his neck.”   Followed with the observation, “Hey, are you still wearing that mike?”  Yep.  We’re a classy bunch.)   I will be sure to inform you when the segment hits the airwaves (my money is on father’s day).  I’ll try not to let the fame and glamour go to my head.  It is pretty awe inspiring to be featured on a 5:00 news segment.  But don’t worry, you can always say you knew me when. Posted Jun 08 2008, 05:36 AM by superdad with no comments Filed under: daddy issues, SAHD, news [Edit Tags]

• It's National Donut Day!

  Yeah, that's the whole post, you got a problem with that?  It's national donut day (today, June 6) and Krispy Kreme is giving out free donuts.  So get one, but only if the "hot donuts now" sign is on. http://www.krispykreme.com/ Don't say I never did anything for you Posted Jun 06 2008, 05:12 AM by superdad with no comments [Edit Tags]

• The New British Invasion

  My friend is a music psychic.  I know this sounds odd, but she is.  She has the ability to pick out that next hit song or trendy new artist a week or so before they break onto the musical landscape.  She claims that her husband just reads Rolling Stone at work, but I still find it remarkable.  She will give me a mix tape full of artists I’ve never heard of and within the next week, I’ll hear one of the songs playing in starbucks, another one over the closing credits on Grey’s anatomy, and a third one used on the new Mac commercial. It’s not surprising that she’s ahead of the curve.  We were sitting around in book group once, talking and someone asked what our soul’s true age was – the age that you are internally, despite what your biological clock is reading.  Well Kris who is 40 said that her soul’s age was 21.  I, who am 35, reported that my soul’s age was probably about 42.  I’m just an old soul.  I don’t know what to say.  I like folk music, NPR, and Cracklin Oat Bran.  Perhaps this explains why middle school was kind of rough.  Nobody wanted to come over to my basement and jam out to my Joan Baez recordings.  Go figure. Anyway, in addition to my lameness, I enjoy what the kids are listening to now a days as well.  I’m fairly eclectic in my tastes and, while I do have a favorite opera singer and can bore you to tears talking about obscure folk singer Phil Ochs (anyone?),  I have an equal affinity for mindless pop music.  Much to my wife’s chagrin I have a Kelly Clarkson CD and have a bit of a thing for Tina Turner (concert at the Verizon Center Nov. 23!). So, here are some up and comers all recommended by Sensei Kris.  For some reason most of these folks are all British.  It worries me.  What happened to USA’s dominance in radio friendly music?  I mean, sure the Brits gave us the Beatles, but we’ve more or less kicked their butts since then.  It got so bad that they had to start stealing our stars.  Come back to us, Madonna!  All is forgiven for that crappy album you gave us back in the late 90s.  Pat Robertson says he’s sorry! Go USA! Here are 5 artists to check out.  Bear in mind, you may absolutely hate my taste in music and have just wasted, 15 minutes of your life, but there’s not really anything I can do about that. Duffy This girl is hot.  She’s like a sober Amy Winehouse.  You’ve probably heard her new song Mercy and not realized it.  Her album just came out.  Go buy it now and make your friends think you’re cool. Mika I really like this guy.  He sounds a lot like Freddie Mercury, if Freddy was even more effeminate (I know, I know).   Check out the song Grace Kelly.  It is so much fun.  My daughter, Audra, loves Mika too.  She’s always asking me to play “that Lollipop song.”  I think that’s appropriate.  I’m not really sure what the lyrics are talking about. The Fratellis Their song, Flathead, was used in one of the first Mac commercials where all those shadows are dancing around so crazy.  I will say, this album does kind of make you want to get up and dance like that, with limbs flying around and your head flailing up and down like a meth addict.  Plus, I personally think that they took their name from the badguys in the movie “The Goonies.”  I have no actual knowledge of this, but wouldn’t that be awesome?   The Pipettes These three saucy gals are fun and infectious and don’t require a lot of singing talent to wail along with them.  It is definitely sunny-day-bounce-around-with-the-kids music.  They’re like a 50s girl group, but more sassy.  I especially like Pull Shapes and Your Kisses are Wasted on Me. Eric Hutchinson And finally an American to round out this group.  Eric Hutchinson is a local Marylander and is so far pretty unknown.  Check out Oh! and Ok is Alright With Me.  Another upbeat, sunny guy.  I find that I need that somewhere around 4:30 in the afternoon when I know I’ve still got another three hours before my wife gets home.  A quick music and dance break in our house does wonders for all of us.  I’ve also heard that this guy is a lot of fun in concert. So, that’s my list of music to help you stay young and get down with that new happening sound that the kids are listening to.  Actually I’m not sure the kids are listening to any of this stuff. The kids are probably listening to some kind of weird death metal electronic accordion or something, but I don’t think I can stomach that.  I do have a soul’s age of 42 after all.  If you find something you like, thank Kris.  If you don’t, just go back to listening to your Fleetwood Mac CD and eating your Luna bars.  There’s nothing wrong with that either.  Posted Jun 06 2008, 05:12 AM by superdad with 2 comment(s) Filed under: daddy issues, Kris, Music [Edit Tags]

• A Picture is Worth .... Not Nearly the Amount of Stress it Takes to Get One

  So, I attempted the impossible recently.  I tried to take my 3 kids to get their picture taken as a gift for my wife on mother’s day.  It was a nice idea and we'll have to hope that it truly is the thought that counts, because the end product looked like crap. My 5 year old, Audra, had been sick with an ear infection, so the photo shoot had been delayed until she could look at a camera without grimacing.  Which would normally have been ok, but I had already delayed the photo so my 10 month old would be over cutting his top teeth and my 2 year old would miraculously turn into a calm, compliant child who smiled on command.  So, when none of those things happened, I just took the last available appointment before Mother’s Day and hoped for the best. So, here it was, the Friday before Mother's Day at 4:00 in the afternoon (right in the middle of nap time – brilliant!) and I'm trying to get a 5 year old, 2 year old, and 10 month old to all look at the camera at the same time and smile.  I might as well have tried to orchestrate the Israeli Palestinian peace accord. I would have had about the same chances of success and there probably would have been less screaming. So, like usual, these endeavors always begin with a mass costume change, as I try to get three squirmy kids to strip out of their play clothes and change into the specially chosen matching outfits that will create that once in a lifetime picture designed to make Anne Geddes cry into her chai latte over her professional inadequacy.   It never quite works out like that though does it?  At one point I was practically sitting on my son in an effort to shoehorn him into his pants.  It was like trying to put a pair of overalls on a python – all wriggling and sliding away.  Is this what Anne goes through trying to squeeze a sunflower on some baby’s head? Eventually, everyone is appropriately cute and the 18 year old “photographer” starts setting up the shots.  The shots would be great if my children would only stop acting their ages and sit perfectly still and smile benignly at the camera for 30 seconds or more at a time.  For some reason they won’t do this.  Every time I manage to get my 10 month old, Micah to smile, my two year old is staring at the ceiling or trying to drag a tricycle into the photo. At one point I had everyone calm and smiling until I realized that Asher had snuck a chocolate granola bar and somehow fed it to his siblings when I wasn’t looking so that all the kids had these gooey chocolate smiles where their teeth were all covered in black sludge.  They looked like a bunch of country bumpkins with their toothless smiles staring manically at the camera.  If you put a row of corn stalks in front of them, it would look like a scene from Hee Haw. So the photographer and I spend about half an hour torturing the children:   “Micah! Micah!  Smile!  That’s right!  Oooooohhhh peek a boo! Peeeeeeek a boo!  Ah wa cha cha! ASHER! SMILE AT THE CAMERA!  No, Micah don’t cry, it’s ok.  Yes, It’s Ok. Ok ok ok ok.  Audra!  Don’t touch him!  Oh!  Look what you did, now he’s crying too.  NO!  Asher!  Put the basket down!  No, wait.  Micah!   Come here, don’t crawl over to…. Asher!  Put your pants back on.  That’s right, ok, everybody smile.  Say cheeseburger!  Say, Fancy pants!  Say Wocka wocka wocka!  Say… Micah! Over here, over here, look over... OVER HERE!  Hey what’s that black stuff in your mouth….” You get the picture. Anyway, we finally packed up, changed everyone back into clothes they were allowed to get dirty in and said a quick prayer to the patron saint of 1 hour photos that we would get at least one picture that I could spend an excessive amount of money on. Well, an hour later, I’m sitting at the computer looking at the samples and I have to say, they are all absolutely terrible.  The sad part is that it wasn’t my two little boys who caused the problem, it was my five year old who was being very good and very sweet and doing her best to sit there and smile at the camera just like I asked so that she could make a nice present for Mommy.  But bless her heart she was still not 100% well, and all of her smiles were these warped droopy eyed affairs that looked like she was drugged up on codeine or had just finished her 24 hour nursing shift at the hospital, or was simply a poor, sweet, sad looking 5 year old girl who was trying her darndest to smile through the sickness. It broke my heart.  But it still didn’t get me any closer to having a mother’s day picture.  So we packed it in, and decided to settle for a nice card and an IOU.  Luckily my wife is one of the more understanding women on the planet.  It’s one of the many reasons I married her and one of the many reasons she makes such a great mom.  So I felt ok about that.  What I didn’t feel ok about is the fact that I’ve got to come back to this third circle of hell and try again in a week or two to get that perfect picture.  Oh well.  It’s for mom and I’d do pretty much anything for mom. Posted Jun 05 2008, 04:52 AM by superdad with 1 comment(s) Filed under: daddy issues, Audra, photo, mom [Edit Tags]