The Sweet Stuff

The ultimate Christmas Photo

2007-12-24T12:20:00.000-05:00

Why does this seem like every Christmas photo ever done? Too bad it was done with a Polaroid; I miss out on the hi-res detail of Maggie's mouth screaming bloody murder.

Our New House

2007-07-07T09:34:00.001-04:00

Here's the view from our new house....you can see the golf course, and there's quite a lot of open space.

Here's the view of our house by people playing on the golf course - not quite as nice of a view.

Still wrong on so many levels...

2007-01-27T12:47:00.000-05:00

As a dad of daughters, I know that manly pride goes right out the window, but still...I try not to have too many embarassing photos of myself. Peter, however, just can't wait to show himself in the most unflattering light.

Well, Peter, congrats go out to you again. Somehow you make the bunny ears work.

Things I know, and Things I didn't know (Part 2)

2007-01-21T17:04:00.000-05:00

Here's something I knew:
I am competitive and will do what needs to be done to win.

Here's something I didn't know:
That I would inflict that competitive nature on my kids.

We travelled to Minneapolis to visit some friends, right around Halloween. Sophie and Maggie had store-bought costumes so that they could trick-or-treat in the neighborhood. In fact, while we were there, the fancy commercial area (Edina) had a Halloween Festival which was happening. Spooky tractor ride, pumpkin bowling, even trick-or-treating! So, we got the kids dressed up and walked over.

Sophie and Maggie were in matching flower outfits, and did look pretty cute. When we heard there was a costume contest, we thought - hey, let's enter the kids, and see what happens. Little did the locals know that we came loaded for bear, with two matching cute kids, and four loud, shameless adults. After planted ourselves throughout the audience, we whooped it up for the "Flower Sisters", and sure enough, came in first place.

Don't believe me? They even put our picture on their website: http://www.50thandfrance.com/events/pumpkin.html

Needless to say, when we showed up for the Christmas Festival, we were not allowed to enter any contests, amidst whispers of "ringers".

Things I know, and Things I didn't know (Part 1)

2007-01-21T16:55:00.000-05:00

Here's something I knew:
During RAGBRAI in 1993, I had a heckuva good time. One of the memories from that trip across Iowa was going off the side of the road and peeing in the corn. Maybe it wasn't the highlight, but every guy enjoys the feeling of using the side of the road as his urinal.

Here's something I didn't know:
That I would be witness to my own child having that experience 13 years later. There's Sophie, finding her zen place while watching the corn grow in the middle of Iowa.

The quiet summer is over...

2006-10-22T23:27:00.000-04:00

So this is it.

We’ve moved from the house which we had spent months getting just the way we liked it. We’ve left a city that Betsy has loved since she was a teenager. We’ve packed up our lives into boxes, put them in storage, and left them in Charlestown.

And gone to Omaha.

I have nothing against Omaha. I didn’t know exactly where it was until my interview out here, so I didn’t have much of an opinion one way or the other. But why move there? Why move to a place which is an eight hour drive to a major city?

Of course it was for a job. Hey, after all, my parents moved plenty of times – both before I was born and when I was a kid. So how hard could it be? Of course, by the time they were in their thirties their roving days were over, and they ended up in the same general location as the rest of their families.

Not us, though. In some ways we’re much further (even though not so much geographically). After all, plenty of people can justify a vacation in Boston (with a side trip to visit with us), or meet up after a business trip there. Out here, however, we’ve got only one friend who said he would swing by – and that’s because there’s a plant “in the corn” about 100 miles away that he’s required to visit every few months.

I can’t say it’s a complete “fish out of water” story – after all, I grew up in a mid-sized Midwestern city. But perhaps instead it’s a little more subtle. This is like what I remember growing up, but not quite the same. It reminds me of visiting a place like Canada, where almost everything seems the same until you see a cereal box written in two languages.

Now we’re here, and while we haven’t settled in, I feel like we’re at least surviving. Yes, Betsy is miserable and keeps wishing we could go “home”. Yes, I’m still looking for the Dunkin’ Donuts. Yes, we live in a temporary apartment that is carpeted under Maggie’s high chair, which is really annoying.

But we’re surviving.

Finders Keepers

2006-04-20T16:46:00.000-04:00

Last week we went on a family road trip. It was a big event, all four of us in the car, heading out on the road (insert your favorite Jack Kerouac quote here). The destination for our big voyage was “New Concepts Hair Salon (and Retail Center)”. Yes, that’s right. We loaded up the car and headed for an hour ride to get a hair cut (actually three hair cuts since Maggie doesn’t have any hair yet).

Why so far? Hasn’t Boston discovered the scissor yet?

No, it was because of Laurel, who has been cutting my hair for 7 years now. The ride is only a few minutes from work, but Betsy likes the way she cuts her hair too. And Sophie has gotten into the game as well, treating the barber’s chair as her own personal throne (although ruling a kingdom while wearing a smock seems less than regal).

While on this journey, I tried to come up with a game to keep Sophie occupied. The last time she drove down she didn’t last the whole way before throwing a fit (this is a kid who knows her T stop yet can’t sit in a car for an hour). So, what’s the typical game you would have for a child? Of course, a “Do you see a something?” game!

On the road to Middleborough, there isn’t much scenery, at least that you can describe to a two year old. “Can you see a capped landfill?” “Can you find a State Trooper pulling me over?” “Can you see the suburban sprawl?” None of those worked.

We ended up focusing on signs, cars, and bridges. “Can you find a red car?” “Can you find a green sign?” Sounds like a hoot. Until she gets hooked, like a kid on crack – or the bahbah. A few minutes of the game, and all of a sudden, she starts calling out, “I find something else!” And we have to come up with a new goal for her.

Can you imagine how many green signs and red cards we found during the hour ride? And don’t think you can give her something that’s not easy to find – she gives up after about thirty seconds, and starts up again. “I don’t see it. I find something else!”

The good news is we don’t use the card all that often – once a week going to gymnastics. The bad news is that the 80’s music I listen to on the ride gets drowned out – “Daddy, I find something else!”.

Sophie's Big Adventure

2006-04-01T09:54:00.000-05:00

Last week Sophie went on her first big adventure – she stayed at Mimi’s house by herself! It was our first try at letting her stay somewhere without us, and surprise, it worked!

While she was away (for all of four days), I was amazed how much easier it was with one child rather than two – we slept in a little later, I didn’t have to scramble trying to keep two kids entertained at the same time, and Betsy had a much easier job during the day (trying to coordinate two naps is tougher than any sales deal she’s ever done).

The other surprise was how she reacted when she came home – even though she was able to spend a lot of time with Mimi, she was soooo excited to see us when she got back from Ohio. I spent most of the weekend playing with her – she did not want to leave my side at all. The first thirty minutes after she got home was spent playing gymnastics (which is basically me flipping her over my shoulders onto the couch). She was so revved up all day she did not take a nap (ugh!), and was always looking to show me something new.

Wow…she likes us, she really likes us!

Herbicide!

2006-03-20T18:38:00.000-05:00

Note to self: A two year-old is too young to be taught the subtlety of gardening, especially the part where you soak the seeds in cups of water to get them started. A two year-old seems to think the idea of taking those cups of water and pouring them into each other, onto the table, the floor, and all over herself is great fun. Sorry, Mommy, the seeds could not be saved.

Two year-olds are good at picking up sticks in the backyard and dragging them into the house to be burned in the fireplace. Sophie is still working on her sense of perspective, since the sticks usually come nowhere near fitting in the fireplace. She also not aware of minor things like property rights, since she has no problem going into the neighbors yard if they have better sticks. At least she’s not picking the neighbor’s flowers….yet.

Sing, Sing a Song

2006-03-16T18:10:00.000-05:00

In this house we love to sing songs….well, make that I love to sing songs. Since I’m not a big fan of memorizing the words, I just make them up as I go. I figure that anyone who is listening probably hates my complete lack of tonality more than butchering the lyrics.

After all, that’s why they have websites like this.

Since the kids, my repertoire has been limited to songs from kid shows. Sophie is in her Dora the Explorer phase, so all I know are Dora songs. Not much to work with there. They have the Map Song:

I’m the map,
I’m the map, I’m the map, I’m the map.
I’m the map,
I’m the map, I’m the map, I’m the map!

But I can even butcher Dora’s simple lyrics. I’ve taken the Dora the Explorer theme song, and changed it into:

Come on, Maggie Rose – Everybody let’s go!
You know you can do it, just don’t make a big poo-it!

OK, so I’m no Bernie Taupin.

Thankfully, Sophie has picked it up now too, singing the theme song to Miffy:

Maggie, Cute little Baby,
Mommy, she’s a little crazy,
Daddy, he’s a little crazy,
Sophie, she’s a little crazy.

I’m not wild about the commentary on the family mental health, but I’ll take what I can get.

Baby on a Roll

2006-03-12T09:35:00.000-05:00

We finally have a “normal” baby. When Sophie was little, we (like most parents) scoured the parenting books for clues about her development. At 6 months, she should be sleeping through the night, putting things in her mouth, and be attracted to bright objects. For Sophie, the answer was No, No, No. She had no interest in “age appropriate” toys, and got bored with whatever was in front of her. She kept most things out of her mouth (which was good, since we didn’t want to go and buy the Costco bottle of Purell), and had this need to see new things all the time. When you’re (more or less) housebound during the winter, there’s only so many new things you can show a child.

Don’t ask me why, but with Maggs we got a “normal” one. She (usually) sleeps better than Sophie did, she’s easily amused by bright and shiny objects (like her dad), and we know that we when put her somewhere we can usually get 10 minutes of quiet time.

Of course, that is all coming to an end.

Maggie has begun the first steps in rocking our world, crawling. Now it’s just a backwards scoot, but we can no longer leave her alone on the floor, confident that she’ll be in the same place when we return. So, we’ve had to go and get “Studio 54” set up (the corral which we used for Sophie), and get Maggie some space in the playroom. Of course, now that Studio 54 is back, Sophie has commandeered it, calling it “My House”. Sorry Maggie, that’s what happens when you’re #2. Maybe we can find a cardboard box for you.

Loving the 80's

2006-02-26T15:31:00.000-05:00

Kristen over at Motherhood Uncensored was nice enough to rent some space out this past week, and she also promoted my blog, and sent some people over to this little corner. She also added the proviso that I complete some 80’s meme. I’m not even sure was meme is, but it has “me” in it twice, so it must be important.

From what I could determine, you were supposed to determine your 80’s likeness. I don’t know if that really exists for me, since my 80’s attire alternated between skinny ties, Hawaiian shirts, and sweatpants (that would be the college years).

Instead, I figured I would just grab an 80’s alter-ego, or at least an aspirational alter-ego.

Here’s the 80’s character I wish I was:

That’s right – Matthew Broderick as Ferris Bueller. The only guy I know who could get away with wearing a t-shirt and a vest…on his day off from school. Also note those socks, I believe they’re argyle. I didn’t pick Ferris for his fashion choices, but for his mad skillz (as the kids say today). After all, who else can call in sick, get a whole town to rally around him (don’t forget the “Save Ferris” graffiti on the water tower), and still have time to take in a Cubs game.

Of course, in reality, I was more like another John Hughes character:

No, not Kelly LeBrock, Anthony Michael Hall. Unfortunately, not the Dead Zone “I have powers beyond your wildest dreams” AMH, but the geeky, Blues Fakin’, Weird Science makin’ AMH. Why AMH? He always seemed to think he was way cooler than we was, and there was little redemption for him throughout the whole movie (except, of course, towards the end).

There you go, Kristen. All in the name of finding my inner 80’s.

Miffy is a Communist!

2006-02-18T11:06:00.000-05:00

I was watching Miffy the other day (just checking out what Sophie watches), and after seeing a few episodes, I came to the inevitable conclusion – Miffy is nothing more than a shill for communism! Before you laugh, let me explain:

In one episode, Miffy is speaking to her father – she would like to have a doghouse for her dog Snuffy. I guess Snuffy has been sleeping down in Miffy’s basement, and now needs a place of her own. To get this space built, father will need some wood. Miffy suggests visiting Boris Bear (even the name drips with symbolism). She says that Boris has a lot of wood, and should have plenty to spare for the Miffy family. Father agrees, saying it’s a good idea.

Miffy goes to visit Boris Bear, who not only is more than happy to give them all the lumber they need, free of charge, he also offers to cut the wood so that all they have to do is simply put it together. They take the wood home, build Snuffy’s house, and all is right with the world.

Put it all together – Boris (the Russian Bear) is happy to give away his lumber. After all, he follows the tenet that those with the greatest ability should provide for those with the greatest need. Who has a greater need than a rabbit without opposing thumbs?

In the next episode, Miffy needs a dollhouse for her doll. Once again, Boris is the source for their supplies. Once again, Boris is happy to provide them with all their needs without thought of any remuneration. This time, however, there is a wrinkle. Along the ride home, Miffy’s doll somehow gets thrown from the car and is lost in the deep dark forest. The forest where only the strongest survive; the forest of Capitalism.

What can they do? Is the doll lost forever? Will she become just another prol in the service of the bourgeoisie? Don’t worry, all is not lost. Snuffy, who is now a full-blown Marxist, leaps down, and runs off into the forest. He returns shortly with the doll, saving yet another soul from the evils of big industry.

Don’t believe me yet? A few minutes later, there is another scene, this time a little game that the narrator plays with Miffy and Poppy Pig. What is the name of the game? “The Same Game” – that’s right, the goal of the game is to have both players with the same number of items. If that doesn’t scream redistribution of wealth, I don’t know what does!

After watching this display of the New Social Order, I was amazed. How could this be shown on TV in the greatest capitalist nation on earth? I realized that it was being shown on the only kids channel without commercials, “Noggin”. How can television exist without any advertising? Impossible. Unless, of course, it’s yet another way to separate us from our capitalist roots.

My solution? I did what I had to do. Now Sophie only watches a steady diet of “Wall $treet Week” and CNBC’s “Squawk Box”. I think we can still save her.

UPDATE: Due to a request from the fine folks at Van Doorne (lawyers for Mr Miffy), I have removed the drawing of Miffy.

Baby It's Cold Outside!

2006-02-12T11:23:00.000-05:00

Sophie and I went out at the height of the blizzard this morning - two hearty souls going for a ride out in the snow. Well, Sophie got to ride, Dad just got to pull. We saw three people out there, and two were out with their dogs, so they weren't out by choice. The third had a couple cups of Dunkin Donuts, so I'll bet he wasn't out by choice either.

We started down by Main Street, and walked all the way to the Monument, and Sophie was a trooper.

Once we got to the top, though, it got a little tough. The wind really picked up by the Monument, and we had to turn around and head back home.

Sophie tried her best to stick it out, but once the wind whipped for a few minutes, she had enough. Of course, the walk home was not fun, since she pretty quickly went from being uncomfortable to downright upset.

But, we made it back, and just like all big adventures, it will grow until it becomes a quest that approaches the achievments of Edmund Hillary.

Hacking is soooo 1983

2006-02-05T08:17:00.000-05:00

There’s a newish website called “Parent Hacks”, which is dedicated to ways to make parenting easier. The nice thing about that site is that most of the ideas aren’t “big” ideas or changes you need to make to your life – they are small changes (or “hacks”) that can make all the difference.

In that vein, here are a few of our own “hacks”, based on over 800 days of experience:

The Night Feeding/Beating: If you read a powdered formula canister, it’s easier to assemble stereo equipment than to make a bottle of formula. It requires boiling water twice, letting it cool, mixing, and feeding. We moved pretty quickly to the bottle warmer, which meant less boiling and mixing, but the warmer was incredibly sensitive. If you added 1 ml too much water, it turned a tepid bottle into a molten lava of formula, sending you back to the beginning. In addition, it usually takes about 30 seconds to a minute to heat up. In nighttime feeding baby screaming time, that’s about 25 years. The next answer was to use hot water from the tap (I’m sure that will cause some evil consequence), which reduced the risk of 3rd degree burns, but still took too much time. Finally, we hit upon the solution: A thermos, right next to the formula container, filled with water at just the right temperature. We would put that in the thermos right before bedtime, and when the call of duty came in the middle of the night, the water was nice and warm.

Two hands for kids, none for lights: Betsy loves timers. Everything is on a timer. I think she would put me on one if she could. The benefit (which I have slowly realized) is that when you’re running around after two kids, the last thing that is watched is your electric bill.

Diaper Chump: We have the Diaper Champ, which is the lowbrow version of the Diaper Genie. No need to buy sausage casing to wrap the diapers, but the stink level can get pretty high. Once Sophie started eating solids, the stink increased by a factor of 10. We now add an extra step when changing the diaper after #2: we shake the diaper a little into the toilet to get rid of any “solids” which can be removed. It has the additional benefit of teaching Sophie of where the “poo” ultimately goes – in the toilet. That has reduced the stink level by about 90%. Of course, if it’s a heinous/wet poo, the diaper goes into a HazMat bag and disposed of immediately.

Now it’s off to the Parent Hacks site, to see if there are any new ideas to make my life easier.

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Rolling Maggie Gathers no Dust?

2006-01-30T15:38:00.000-05:00

Time for a Maggie update: Maggie has taken the first step in her move towards being a Rhodes scholar (or maybe a Road’s Scholar) – she has rolled over! I know it’s a big deal, all the baby books say so. I just wish I would do a better job cleaning up the floors so that Maggie didn’t turn into a rolling dust mop.

We’re even getting Sophie to cheer for her – “Hooray, Maggie!”

Temper Redux-ion

2006-01-29T19:25:00.000-05:00

Over the last week or two, Sophie’s temper tantrums seemed to be getting worse. The final straw was on Friday, when she begged me to take her to work. I had to leave, and sadly) bolted the door when I left. It seemed like Sophie was in some big power struggle with us – was it because Maggie was in the picture?

We received all sorts of advice – you can’t give in to her, she’ll just walk all over you after this, etc. We were told that we had been giving her “too many choices” and that we had to limit the options we gave her to two at a time. We were also told to ignore her tantrums – they would work themselves out, and by responding to her tantrums you would be giving her the power.

It took Betsy (aka SuperMom)to discover what really worked. Saturday afternoon we had a doozy – we were getting ready to change her diaper, and Sophie broke down. “No diaper change! No new diaper!” We told her she had to get her diaper changed, and it was full of “potty”, but it was no use. “No diaper!” With this, it happened. She stripped off her pants and diaper, and stood there as naked as the day she was born. We couldn’t get anything on her, and we thought anything could happen at any moment. She could vomit, pee, spit fire, and who knows what else.

Betsy took the chance, and grabbed her, and held her. She talked Sophie down like a police negotiator with a jumper. After about five minutes, we wrapped a towel around her. After ten, she agreed to wear her diaper. After fifteen, all was well. It was masterful. I was really impressed, especially since our little hellion was impossible just a few minutes before.

After this, I started to think – what was it that Betsy did that made the difference? I didn’t know if I could go through all that she did to bring Sophie down, but maybe I could deal with the tantrum while it was a category 1 or 2, before it was Sophie Tsunami. I had an idea, and thought I would try it the next time around, which I suspected wouldn’t be too much later.

On Sunday, I was getting the two kids ready to go out. We had been in the house all day, and we were all bouncing off the walls. I had Maggie on my lap, and told Sophie to get her shoes. And it happened.

“No go out! No Shoes! No shoes!”

I breathed deeply. It was time.

“Sophie, come over here. Come, sit on my lap. Let’s sit here for a minute.”

That was it. It worked. By just stopping and holding her, I was able to prevent the tantrum. I was shocked and awed. For the past few weeks we had been reacting to Sophie’s tantrums by getting into “battle mode”, ready to handle whatever Sophie threw at us. The truth was, we needed to do the exact opposite – embrace the tantrum, and hold Sophie until she was settled down.

I thought about how this happened, and have my own theory: So much of what we’ve done with Sophie has been to help her to become independent, or to support her while she tried to be independent. At some points, she must feel too independent, and that she needs to feel more centered, or more connected to us. Despite being able to communicate a lot of what she wants (she’ll tell us that she’s tired, hungry, hurt, etc), she couldn’t figure out why she feels the way she feels, and just breaks down.

At least that’s what my opinion is, based on my complete lack of education in psychology.

The good news is that we’ve both started reacting to her Category 1 tantrums in this way, and it’s made all the difference. No more breakdowns, no more “Sophie Tsunami”, no more running around without diapers on.

Well, that last part isn’t true. But that’s for another day.

Poor poor pitiful Po

2006-01-15T18:23:00.000-05:00

Sophie announced to us today that Po has diaper rash. When we took a look, sure enough, the Tellytubby had a red bottom. The best part is that Sophie took the initiative to put Desitin on her right away, leaving us to clean up.

Tilt-A-Whirl

2006-01-15T07:22:00.000-05:00

Now that I post these entries, I’m able to recall all those things I forgot the first time around with Sophie. I suspect that my poor memory means that I have Alzheimer’s in the not too distant future (or I already have it and don’t remember).

Maggie has started to do all the “baby” things that make kids more interesting. She has started grabbed at toys and playing with them, smiling, and even laughing (although Betsy is the only person who can get a laugh out of her). Her newest activity is the half-roll. She starts to roll over, then stops herself about ¾ of the way through. I suspect she’s worried about what will happen if she actually succeeds. She may never see the world from on her back again!

We’ve also started her in the “Tilt-A-Whirl”, which is an Exersaucer. The one that Mr. Nice Guy has is so modern super-fancy…of course it looks like a jester exploded on the thing. We have an old-school 10 year old (classic I call it) version. It has about 1/20 the fancy objet d’art that the new ones have, but I don’t care. In the photo to the left it seems that Maggie is struggling just to survive the Tilt-A-Whirl, but by yesterday she was an old pro. The best part? How proud she looked in conquering the thing. She seemed to want to show us how she could stand up and play! Good Job Maggs!

Welcome to Southern Gal!

2006-01-08T22:32:00.000-05:00

I've rented out some side space again, this time to Dana over at Southern Gal Goes North! She's a humor writer who moved up from Alabama (Roll Tide!) up to Chicago (Roll a Vienna Hot Dog). Check out her blog, especially if you've ever been to Disneyland!

Gastric Juice, Coming Right Up!

2006-01-07T06:24:00.000-05:00

What a week…where to begin?

Friday 12/30: Known to me as the Puke-A-Thon. Betsy hates that word, so I’ll call it the Driving-the-porcelain-bus-A-Thon.

At about 2PM we were heading out for lunch, and had just driven through the entire parking lot at the mall to find a spot. We had just pulled everyone from the car, set up the stroller, had Sophie ready to walk, and – it happened. Sophie surprised us…no warning, no announcement, just a quick gagging noise, and out it came. A stomachfull of lunch, crackers, cheerios, water, and I’m not sure what else. The best part? She hurled in the only other open parking spot in the lot. Now, I’ve seen some impressive ways to reserve a parking spot, but she gets an “A” for creativity!

It was over so quick that I thought (for just one moment) that we could just continue on…after all, that’s what I used to do after hurling. Of course, that was usually due to drinking beer after liquor (“never sicker”). Betsy corrected me. It was time to go home. She had already pulled out the spare outfit that she had prepared for this kind of occasion out of her “Super Mommy” utility belt, and changed Sophie.

The way home was great too – we hit traffic (of course), and Sophie spent most of the ride getting out whatever little bit was still in her stomach. Luckily (for me), she got most of it on herself and not the car (wow, that sounds cruel). To put it another way, the “spill was contained”. The amazing part was that she wasn’t complaining too much – she would just groan, cough, and vomit.

After getting home we took her to get a bath (“No Bath! No Bath!”), which was probably the worst part of the afternoon for her. She wanted to lay down, so I laid with her in the “big girl bed”, which she quickly puked in. Great, another outfit, and change the sheets on the bed.

Now, it’s into the crib (where she usually sleeps). She hurls again. Change the sheets (and her pajamas), and get her set up again. We tried to lay a towel down in the bed, but she would have none of that. We let her lay down again, and had a grocery bag set up so we could grab it in case she was ready to hurl again (known as the “Gag Bag”). She seemed OK, so we left.

Five minutes later (this was now about 4PM) we hear the now familiar “Gag and Cough” (not to be confused with “Shock and Awe”), and before we got to the room she had ruined another pajama/sheet set. This was a first – usually when Sophie vomited it was a one-time incident.

We actually (for about 0.2 seconds) thought about leaving the Gag Bag in the crib for her to get sick in if we didn’t arrive in time – but the 2000 warnings on those bags (“Do not leave bags with children you dope”) finally paid off. I can just imagine Social Services arriving: “OK, let me get this straight – you left a plastic bag in the crib with your child. Can you read? Are you unable to interpret the circle and bar symbol on every plastic bag ever made in the US?”

Instead we got her out of the crib, brought her downstairs, encased the couch in towels, and sat with her for the rest of the evening until she was able to go more than 30 minutes without yakking. That wasn’t until 7PM.

Then we finally started the laundry.

This is just wrong on so many levels

2005-12-26T19:26:00.000-05:00

Peter, I love you man, but this is not the guy I remember dressing up as Elvis (the latter years) back when we were in our twenties.

Things I learned at Christmas...

2005-12-26T11:57:00.000-05:00

I still hate wrapping gifts. Betsy was sick Christmas Eve, so the job of wrapping the “special” gifts fell on me. In the past, I was the guy who would pay whatever it took to get things gift-wrapped. No such luck this time around. By the time I was finished, the gifts look like they had been wrapped by someone wearing boxing gloves, sent through the FedEx distribution system twice, and then wrapped again by a guy with the DTs. If Amazon didn’t offer gift wrapping, I would never give another gift in my life.

I feel empathy for my parents, especially after putting together the “big” gift. Sophie got an easel from Santa, and it had to be put together (rather than wrapped). This is the only time when I would have rather wrapped. I’m downstairs at 9:00 at night, with a Guiness in one hand, trying to figure out how to attach leg A to joint B using Nut K and bolt M. And people wonder why I don’t work on my own house.

Next year, Santa will need beer and cookies. Of course, not just any beer. It looks like Santa will need another Guiness to wash down his cookies. Of course, he’ll need to finish assembling (see #2) before receiving his reward.

Betsy’s idea of “Two gifts from Santa” was brilliant. Sophie was happy to open presents – it didn’t matter how many or from whom. She spent more time unwrapping our gifts than her own, and didn’t even bother looking at the gifts before looking to unwrap the next one. One other thing that Santa did was take some old toys away (and put them in the storeroom). We can still see the floor of the playroom.

Don’t spend too much time worrying about the gifts. Sophie’s favorite was a “bouncy ball” – a rubbery ball that looked like a blowfish. The easel and piano mat were a distant second and third.

Trust no vendor. I bought a gift for Betsy from Ebuyer, who (to reduce fraud) would not ship to my work address. So instead, they shipped to my house, and told UPS to just leave it on the front steps (and not require a signature). The end result? Some kid in the housing projects has a nice new Palm, I have to send paperwork to Ebuyer and UPS because I never received the shipment, and Betsy has to keep using her old Palm from 1999. At least I still had the gift from Victoria’s Secret.

We’re now really settled down. This year was the year when more than half the cards we received were the “photo cards” with the pictures of the kids on them. No more goofy “Dogs Singing Jingle Bells”, or Santa with a surfboard.

Family is all that matters. We were very lucky that Mimi and Pappa were able to visit for Christmas, and we also had the chance to talk with Grandma as well.

Merry Christmas!

FedEx, Why do you Hate me?

2005-12-18T13:24:00.000-05:00

I don't know what FedEx thinks about Charlestown, but I know it's not good.

Here's what happened:

November 27th: I placed an order at Petco for a new automatic watering bowl for Zachary. His old one had stopped working well, and we'd had it for a few years. What the heck, I threw in some filters too.

November 28th, 12:35PM: FedEx picked up the package.

November 28th, 6:35PM: FedEx says the label became "unreadable", so they replaced it.

November 29th: The package arrived at the Wilmington center...this is where it started to go terribly wrong. It was placed on the truck to be delivered. No attempt made that day.

November 30th: The package stayed in Wilmington, enjoying a nice cup of coffee with the FedEx team there.

December 1st: The package was placed on the truck. No mention of where the package went that day, but it wasn't our house.

December 2nd: The package spent another day in Wilmington, taking in the sights. Did you know that Wilmington was part of an unstable frontier in Queen Anne's war, and was established in 1730 after a sawmill was built there?

December 3rd: The package was placed on a truck to be delivered, but once again, the delivery was "delayed".

December 4th & 5th: The package spent a nice weekend in Wilmington, visiting the nearby childhood homes of Jack Kerouac (Lowell) and Jay Leno (Andover). I don't know if the package took any pictures, but I didn't get any postcard. Ungrateful package.

December 6th: The package came back to the facility after a latenight bender, and was put on the truck to be delivered the next day.

December 7th: "Recipient Location Security Delay". I called, and spoke with a nice gentleman from Memphis about what this meant. He said, "Perhaps the President was in town, and they couldn't get through". I'm serious. I mentioned to him that I am from Massachusetts, and that Dubya wouldn't be caught dead in this state. I doubt he really thinks of it as one of the current 50, let alone the original 13. His other guess? A "parade". I also said, "This isn't Memphis - we have our parades in the Spring and Summer, when people are unfrozen enough to actually attend." He promised that the package would be delivered the next possible day.

December 8th: The package was out getting a facial, so was not around to get delivered.

December 9th: The package was put on a truck, and I was back to "No attempt made, delivery scheduled for next business day".

December 10th, 11th, 12th: The package spent the long weekend doing some shopping at the mall and having a nice dinner in Andover Center (I had recommended the Andover Inn). I think it had a good time.

December 13th: FedEx finally gave up. "Package Available for Pickup". Now through this whole process, FedEx gave me NO notification - no post-it, no postcard, no phone call, and certainly no package.

December 14th and 15th: The package spent the two days in Package Lockup, where bad packages go when their recipients have the audacity to live in Charlestown.

December 16th: I called Memphis, got connected a supervisor, who connected me with Wilmington, who connected me with a "QA supervisor". She found the package, noticed all the writing over it, and said, "Maybe they didn't deliver it because you live in the projects". Um, have you seen my property tax bill? Well, I do live close to the local housing development, but most of Boston can make that claim. So I pointed out to her the erros of FedEx's ways. She took detailed notes about where to place the package (on our back deck) in case the driver didn't like leaving it on the front steps. Now remember, the driver has never even rung the doorbell thus far, let alone get out of his truck to drop off the package.

December 17th: You guessed it - "No attempt made".

In the past few weeks, Zachary has given up waiting and started walking around with a diving rod to find a new source of water. This gift was supposed to be a nice Christmas surprise for him. At this rate, I'm going to just get him a gift card like I do for everyone else. I suspect that the reason the driver didn't stop by was Speedy Wong's, the local chinese food restaurant/meth lab ("Check out our #8 SpeedBall Special!"). Come on, it's a cat bowl!

I don't know what to do. I do know that I am not going to drive up to Wilmington to pick up a package from Petco, when the closest one is about 3 miles away. So FedEx, Why do you Hate me?

Update: All hail the power of the Internet! After writing this, we went to a Christmas Party, came back, and SURPRISE! The package had arrived! On a Sunday! Of course, it looked like it had been across the border several times, and perhaps thrown in jail, and searched by some NSA guy for having impure thoughts, but all in all, it was in pretty good shape. And the cat bowl even worked!

I'm sure it was this entry that did it - FedEx was sooo scared of the negative publicity that they rushed out to get the package home. Or, maybe some guy was working on Sunday and thought he would drop it off on the way home.

My Child / Your Child

2005-12-12T23:20:00.000-05:00

Before Sophie was born, Betsy and I came up with a new game to play - My Child / Your Child. It's such a fun game, the whole family can play!

My Child / Your Child requires that you notice some aspect of the child, and determine which person that aspect comes from (if you believe in the whole nature versus nurture thing). For example, Betsy would say, "Blond hair - My Child" or "Brown Eyes, Your Child". See how easy that is?

What makes the game fun is when you notice something that you're not too happy with in your little darling - this immediately becomes the best part of MCYC - it's obvious that the bad things are "Your Child", while what makes her such an angel is because she's "My Child".

Let's look at a few recent rounds of the game:

Betsy: "Jumping on the couch - Your Child, Outgoing personality - My Child"
Neal: "Bedtime requirement that everything is just so - Your Child, Bright personality in the morning - My Child"

A few rules:

You have to be ready to justify your call on MCYC - it's not like calling Shotgun to get the front seat. I certainly could never say, "Ability to climb up any surface known to man - Your Child", nor could Betsy say, "Stubborness bordering on fascism - Your Child". It has to match the personality of the parent!
You can't call a personality feature twice, but you can call new and revealing aspects of that wonderous personality. Betsy called YC on Sophie jumping in the bed, not one week after calling YC on Sophie jumping on the sofa. I called YC on Sophie's repetition of "I do it myself!" even when the "doing" is dangerous and impossible to manage.

It's gotten to the point now where we don't even call MCYC, we just look and point, with that "I can't believe this trait of yours has been placed into out child!" look that only a spouse can deliver.

Maggie is just now starting to be "in play", with my first call being, "Extremely picky about her bottle temperature, blanket wrapping, position holding...gotta be Your Child".

Oops, gotta run - that Maggie is waking up at 11PM - couldn't be My Child.