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I told my wife that now that I'm a Stay-At-Home-Dad I'm going to blog more often. She pointed out that more often would probably be more than once a week.

I said, "Well, I don't really have anything to write about."

She said, "You can write a blurb. You know, you'd probably get more readers if you posted pictures too. Readers like pictures."

So here's a picture of my coffee mug. I woke up way to early this morning.

Acupuncture Can Cure Anything

Acupuncture can cure anything

This place is next door to Spec’s.

Seriously? Constipation? Now I’m by no means and expert in acupuncture, or even moderately interested honestly, but really?

Constipation?

Where are they sticking those needles anyway?

Pet Peeve #154219503

Ok, I don’t have that many. Maybe we can just call it a serial number. This way we can log it, Google it, and reference it later.  That’s right, people are that interested in my peeves.

Buttons.

Not those squirrely flower shaped ones that don’t fit in button holes on little girls dresses. While I might get a little peeved, they don’t qualify as a pet peeve.

I’m talking technology. Buttons on copier machines, coffee makers, computers and DVD players. You know exactly what I mean.

You push the button. It goes *click*. Nothing happens.

You wonder, “Is it broken? Did it just stop working for no reason? What do I do?”

Well, you do what any normal human being would do. You push it again.

It makes me wonder if the engineers that designed such things do this on purpose. You know the pop-up window that asks, “Are you sure?” Well, you can’t do that with coffee makers. 

Are you sure you wanna make coffee? Click OK again.

I’ve come to the conclusion that people become conditioned to do this. Engineers began this early on. Case in point: elevator buttons.

Bill Engvall uses just such a situation in one of his “Here’s your sign” bits. You push the button. Nothing happens. Of course nothing happens; the elevator car is on its way. You stand and wait. Somebody else comes along thinking about their coffee maker and having to press the button twice to get it to wake up and sees that elevator button lit and you standing their like an idiot. Without even considering the engineering involved and the safety codes the elevator manufacturer, installer, and owner have to continually pass they push the button again. It’s only natural. After all, I had to threaten my DVD player with an uncertain future before it gave up the Red Box movie we watched last night.

And my laptop. I tried turning it on this morning. I pushed the I/O button. I pushed it again. It clicked both times. I gave it moment to think about what it might be doing wrong and let it have one more try. It finally booted up.

I’d compare it to a woman… but I think we all know that that is a slightly different situation.

If they only had a button.

Holy Crap

Ok, so this story begins with me sitting on the toilet. I usually don’t share my toilet stories but in this case, I shall make an exception.

DING DONG

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

Of course somebody is at the door. Meh, probably FedEx or something.

DING DONG DING DONG DING DONG

POUND POUND POUND

?

Dammit.

So I prematurely ended my morning constitutional to find out who the hell needed my attention so badly.

DINGDONGDINGDONGDINGDONG

POUNDPOUNPOUNDPOUND

I find Zoey looking out the front door. “Who is it Zoey?”

“Our neighbor that buys cat treats wearing the same clothes he always wears but he doesn’t have his dog.” He left before he saw Zoey come to the door.

I grab my keys and am heading to the front door to see if I can catch him. I’m thinking he wasn’t stopping by for cat treats.

Then I hear pounding on the back window. That was fast. Now he’s in the back yard? I push aside the curtains and see some dude looking around. And right behind him is….

The suspense…

Sara.

She woke up while I was in the bathroom and couldn’t find me. She freaked out and started looking for Mommy. She unlocked the door AND LEFT. This guy was driving by and saw a sad little girl sitting in the driveway in a princess nightgown crying for her Mommy. Our next door neighbor happened to step outside (it is garbage day) and saw Some Dude kneeling talking to Sara.

So of course they started pounding on the doors and windows. Thank goodness for good neighbors.

And I have learned a very important lesson today. Deadbolt all doors and hide the keys before taking a shit.

What I've Learned So Far as a Stay at Home Dad

1. I have spent entirely too much time on my computer researching homeschooling and home activities. My kids have been on their own, peacefully doing what I did at their age. No school? Play!

2. The kitchen is never clean.

3. Always take your shower before the kids wake up.

4. Mr. Clean Magic Erasers. Buy them. Use them.

5. The vacuum is NOT magic. It sucks. Not as much as you’d think.

6. The “To Do” list is like my Christmas Wish List.

7. The perfect cure for too much whine is… well… some wine.

8. When all else fails, the TV is the perfect baby sitter. Like when you have to go to the bathroom. Make lunch. Or even just breathe for a moment.

9. How is it that I feel so busy… but nothing gets done? Again, the wine helps.

10. The cartoons I watched as a kid were TERRIBLE. The cartoons my parents watched were AWESOME. The cartoons made for my kids to watch are NAUSEATING. (Disclaimer: there are, of course, exceptions the rule. But I think you know what I’m talking about)

11. I miss working a job like I miss a stomach virus. Or a kick in the crotch. Or broken bones. Or being set on fire.

OK. I’ve never had a broken bone nor have I been set on fire. Honestly, those were the only two things I could think of as being a worse affliction to the time my family jewels were damaged in a contest between somebody else’s foot and my testicles. That was a bad bad day.

Today In Whine

Today’s Day in Whine

Today I took the girls bike riding. Never mind the time it took to figure out how to attach the bike rack to the hatch of a minivan. Never mind getting the girls properly dressed for riding bikes. Skirts and blouses… normally ok, riding bikes, not so much. Never mind getting them to potty before leaving. “I don’t hafta go!”

I got them to the bike trails. George Bush Park. There’s a handy parking area right off Hwy 6. We had to walk the bikes up over the earth dam. This happens also to be the Barker Reservoir. So, we pushed the bikes up the hill, then let the bikes drag us down the hill. It was hilarious watching Zoey try to control her bike.

“It keeps trying to get away!”

So we get to the bottom. I get both girls up on their bikes. Their heads are enormous in those helmets.

Grunt.

Groan.

Hunnnh!

*puff* *puff* *puff*

*sigh*

Ten minutes later the paved portion of our ride ends. There is a gravel trail that picks up from there. I chose this path because it has tree cover.

“The rocks are in the way!”

“It’s too hard!”

Sheesh, when I was 7 years old I not only learned to ride on gravel, but you couldn’t find me because I was on my bike somewhere in Wessington, SD. Which if you’ve been there is paved nearly entirely in gravel.

And it’s not like this was a construction entrance, it was paving gravel.

*sigh*.

Here’s my favorite. “I’m scared!”

So we walked back to the hill. Walked back up the hill and down the hill. Mounted the bikes back to the van and drove home.

I have in mind taking them back tomorrow… although, maybe I’ll find some trails that are nice even blacktop.

Nice and even.

A Lesson in Patience

For any of you (parents or not) that think children have no patience, I believe it is a matter of perspective.

I think many of you have heard the story of Einstein’s explanation of his theory of relativity. He tries to explain how Time is relative to the observer. I’ll retell it, if in brief.

He compared it to a young man having dinner with a beautiful woman. An hour felt like a mere moment. This versus the same young man sitting on a hot stove, where a mere moment felt like an hour.

My story is more like Me versus Pillsbury Toaster Strudels. Actually, it is me versus Pillsbury Toaster Strudels.

We’re up early, as usual, getting ready for school. I make the breakfasts and lunches. Sara chooses toaster strudels. Easy enough. Two in the toaster and *poof* breakfast.

Then there’s the icing. Those tiny little packets of tooth decaying evil.

She slowly extrudes a little design onto the pastry. This of course turns into a puddle. She squeezes it some more. Like her mother and that last bit of toothpaste, she finds the strength to push one more drop out.

Oh, she’s not done yet. She then proceeds to suck on the packet. A look of pure ecstasy on her face complete with her eyes rolling into the back of her head.

“Ahhhh…”

This all takes about 10 minutes. Meanwhile, all around her are the noises of the family preparing to leave. This includes constant reminders to: “Hurry up, Sara!”

Not to be deterred, she looks me square in eye… and begins the ritual on the second pastry. That’s right. She eats two.

Then I find that this isn’t so much a lesson to discover the Tiny Terror has patience, but that there are times when I don’t.