Monday, February 28, 2011

Monday, Monday

As I do on most Monday mornings (my day off) I lay in bed while everyone gets ready for the day. Mind you, I'm not asleep; that usually ends around 6 when Trot bounds down the stairs wanting his daily piece of cheese.

No, I lay there with a pillow over my head trying to drown out the random chaos going on while occasionally contributing the always popular "Get off the dresser!" or "Rakes, put your clothes on; you've got to leave in 15 seconds!" from underneath the covers.

Today was a typical morning. Ciera was panicking her Mom wouldn't do her hair in time, Rakes and Trot were engaged in one of their classic discussions (this morning it was why Patrick the Star on Sponge Bob doesn't have a jimmy) and Angie furiously tried to get ready, making roughly 179 trips from the garage to the kitchen before finally leaving. (I have no idea what she kept coming back to get; she drives a van, not an oil tanker.)

Finally, I heard her van start up and immediately I switched to "I've got 30 minutes to sleep before I have to get up and take Trot to school" mode when I suddenly heard her panicked cry of "Oh Rakes! What are you DOING?" followed by "RAKES!!! WHY DID YOU DO THAT?!?!"

Naturally I'm still pretending to be asleep but my mind is racing; he's scratched his name on the car with a rock or he's taken off his pants and is running commando style down the street or he's finally finished the time machine he's been building with the wagon and my golf clubs; at this point it's a toss up.

2 seconds later Ang is stomping through the door and I get my answer; he put his book bag, with his lunch in it, right in front of the driver's side tire on the van and Ang ran over it.

You've never seen a bag of potato chips, a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, a bag of Gummies and a carton of Yogurt quite like it.

I'm Ted.

And I'm Married.

With Children.And I wouldn't have it any other way.

However, it would REALLY help if Opening Day would just hurry up and get here.

Sunday, February 27, 2011

Rites of Spring

*Image courtesy of Kelly O' and*

I don't know this for a fact, but I'm 99.9% sure that somewhere in the Florida sun today Dustin Pedroia called somebody "Dude", dropped a half dozen F bombs, and ragged Tito about his Bigelow Green Tea commercials.

Just that has me grinning like some idiot who just found out he won the Lotto AND Ed McMahon (Well, not Ed. Rest his soul.) just showed up at my door with one of those giant checks to tell me I'd won a million dollars.

And it's still February.

God Bless Baseball.

Friday, February 25, 2011

Art Deco: Trot Style.

Right before bedtime, Ang told Trot to take his dirty clothes and put them in the clothes hamper.

He didn't quite make it there.

But you gotta give the little numb nuts credit; he's got a flair for the creative.

Thursday, February 24, 2011

Rated T: For Terrified.

The kids make some walking around money by doing odd chores around the house like making their bed, cleaning their room, peeing in the designated peeing areas, and confining all dirty clothing to the clothes hamper. Or at least in the vicinity of the clothes hamper.

All of the above I did as a child, but not for any monetary reward; no, I did it or my Pop and his belt find my rear end faster than it takes the average computer to log onto the Internet. But in the brave new world I find myself raising children in, apparently it's now required by the parent to reward the child for actually, you know, doing what they're supposed to.

Anyways, Ang took Chip and Dale to Gamestop tonight to buy a new game for their DS's. Trot chose "Star Wars: The Clone Wars" to go along with the 27 other Star Wars DS games they already have. They also have Sponge Bob games, Mario Brothers games, Baseball games, and something called Crash Bandicoot, which is the best I can tell a demented Fox who rides skateboards and stuff around. So when Rakes asked me to guess which one his Mom let him pick out I was expecting either "Sponge Bob: Live in Bikini Bottom" or "Indiana Jones has gotten really, REALLY old and the Temple of Doom" or something at least in that genre.

THIS is what my 7 year old, slightly hyperactive and borderline Wackadoodle picked out and his dear, sweet, naive, and totally stressed out Mom let him get.

That sound you hear is whatever was left of my sanity exploding somewhere in the Middle East as Rakes gleefully fires away with his, and I quote, "Really, REALLY big gun, Dad!".

Wednesday, February 23, 2011

I'll Doodle You For It.

I Tivo'd Survivor tonight and watched it with Rakes and Ciera after they got home.

The following conversation took place about half-way through.

Rakes: "Dad, what happens when they doodle?"

Me: "You mean duel?"

Rakes: "Yeah. What happens when they doodle/duel?"

Who knew reality television could be a situation comedy?

One More Reason I Need Me Some Baseball. STAT.

Last night/ This morning marked the 4th day in a row Trot has wet the bed in the middle of the night.

We let him have something to drink at dinner and then, no matter how much he begs, pleads, cries, and at least on one occasion threaten to, and I quote "Leabe this house and NEBER COME BACK!" he doesn't get anything else to drink.

Which tells me one of two things: either he's drinking like a camel after a 10 day trek across the Gobi Desert during the day?

Or he's intentionally trying to finally send me over the flipping edge.

Monday, February 21, 2011

Hope Springs Eternal

There are a few things that make this 40 year old heart skip a beat.

A smile from my wife across the room.

A hug from Ciera before she goes to bed.

Rakes flashing me the sign for "I love you" as I close his door.

Trot actually lifting the lid and THEN peeing in the toilet.

And this:

*Image courtesy of*

Sunday, February 20, 2011

A Good Woman is Hard to Find

Tomorrow is my day off. It's also my week to drive Ciera and her cousin to school.

Which sort of blows the whole "sleeping in on your day off" thing out of the water.

Until your wife lovingly says "I'll drive the kids tomorrow; I've got to be up anyways".

Reason number 7,902 I will always love her.

'Course Trot will be up at 4:30 wanting a piece of cheese or a Smoothie or just because he thinks it's perfectly OK to wake up at 4:30 in the morning but hey;

It's the thought that counts, right?

Saturday, February 19, 2011

Pearls of Wisdom by Trot.

Actual conversation between me and Trot earlier tonight:

Trot: "I'm doin' to bed, Dad."

Me: (Looks at clock) "It's 8, Trot. You're going to bed NOW?"

Trot: "Yeah. My eyes are telling me it's time to do to bed."

Me: "Your eyes?"

Trot: "Yeah. They won't stay open so I'm doin' to bed."


The peeing and the farting and the writing on the walls and the asking for the 9,786th time if he can be done eating now?

Totally worth it.

Thursday, February 17, 2011

One and One Equals 11

Trot got an award for being "The Best Listener at Pre-School" today.

I'm pretty sure this falls right in between "The Moon Blocks out the Sun" and "Ryan Sechrest becomes President" in the "9 Sign's of the Apocalypse".

Meanwhile Ciera is fighting the flu, I've got a migraine, and Rakes is still trying to figure out why my old cell phone won't allow him to make phone calls and download pictures to Facebook.

Never mind the fact he's 7 and doesn't even HAVE a Facebook account.

Adrian Gonzales is a Red Sock. Adrian Gonzales is a Red Sock. Adrian Gonzales is a Red Sock.

I figure if I say it enough times it'll make all the other stuff go away.

Wednesday, February 16, 2011

This post brought to you by Shawshank.

It probably would have happened even if I HADN'T stumbled across it tonight on AMC.

Something about Spring Training and the countdown to Opening Day just sort of brings it out in me; but watching Red and Andy and Brooks and that God Awful warden (who by the way reminds me of Hank Steinbrenner more and more each time I watch it) is the equivalent of throwing gasoline onto a roaring campfire.

"Remember Red, hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things, and no good thing ever dies. "

I hope the Red Sox win the AL East.

I hope the Yankees finish last.

I hope that Lester wins the Cy Young, Papi hit's 40 bombs, and Beckett wins 20.

I hope Hank Steinbrenner is found crying and in the fetal position by July 30th.

I hope.

Tuesday, February 15, 2011

The boy DOES love his Ham.

I'm pleasantly surprised he didn't include "public urination" on the list.

Although his teachers may have wished to leave that one out in deference to Ang and I.

And I do give him points for sucking up to his teachers by listing them as his some of his favorite things; he may be 4, but he's wise beyond his years.

My biggest hope and greatest fear is that one day this kid could run for public office.

Monday, February 14, 2011

Hope is a good thing.

*Image courtesy of Kelly O and*

Knowing Beckett and The Munchkin are in Florida and Spring Training is ramping up?

Second ONLY to Peace on Earth and Goodwill toward Men.

We're coming out of the darkness that is winter and into the glorious light of Spring, where baseball and the crack of the bat and the sound of a ball meeting leather will take us through the dog days of summer and into the crisp New England fall.

I'm thinking about copy writing that for a future Hallmark card.




Sunday, February 13, 2011

Someday you will find me caught beneath the Landslide

For a guy who hates change about as much as I do the Yankees, it's about to get gnarly.

Ciera hitting puberty, Rakes and Trot pushing the amplifier of life to 11, and I'm about to officially enter middle age in a few months when I turn 41.

That's not all, but that is probably a post for another day.

Let's just say that pitchers and catchers reporting today was my oasis in the desert.

Or something.

Saturday, February 12, 2011

The Greatest Show on Earth with a side of Panic Attack.

1 circus, 3 hours, 7 bathroom breaks, lions, tigers, elephants, clowns, 25,000 screaming kids, and panic inducing wall to wall people all trying to leave at the same time while I carry Trot in my arms, try to keep and eye on Ciera, and pray Rakes doesn't let go of his Mom's hand before we get outside.

Those people trying to sell me $9 sno-cones and $15 dollar light up spinning things every 5 feet have no idea how close one of them came to having a visit with their friendly neighborhood proctologist.

My monthly Saturday day off never seems to be very relaxing.

Thursday, February 10, 2011

The Circus is coming. Somebody warn the Ringling Brothers.

Rakes' First Grade class went to the circus for a Field Trip today. Half of me was hoping he'd have a blast and the other half was hoping he'd realize that a career as a clown wasn't exactly the road he wanted to take.

Meanwhile, one of the ladies who sells us advertising at the store called and let me know she got me 5 free tickets for said circus this weekend, and seeing as how Saturday is my day off, it looks like the family will be finally, truly "A 3 Ring Circus", at least for a few hours.

Armed with this bit of news I figured I'd call Rakes once he got home from school and ask him what I should be expecting in a few days. Per usual, I didn't get the answer's I thought I'd get.

Me: "Rakes, how was the circus today?"

Rakes: "Good".

Me: "What was your favorite part?"

Rakes: "I don't know".

Me: "Well, I've got tickets for all of us to go again on Saturday, so I wanna tell Trot what to look for".

Rakes: "I don't know".

Me: (After banging the phone against my head for 27 seconds) "OK, buddy. We'll figure it out when we get there".

Rakes: "Dad, Dad, Dad, Dad....... I saw a really cool sno-cone. Can we get one of those?"

After three hours of lions, tigers, bears, clowns, rings of fire, midgets, tight rope walkers and motorcycles going 70 mph in a round steel ball he wants the $8 sno-cone.

Jon Lester arrived at Ft. Myers today.

That news alone will get me through the circus, the sno-cone's, and most of Sunday.

Wednesday, February 9, 2011

Winter is offically coming to an end.

It's supposed to snow here tonight, the cold air has made my skin so dry I'm scratching like I've got the Defcon 9 version of the chicken pox, and I'm pretty sure I'm going to go all Howard Hughes, complete with keeping my toenail clippings in a mason jar before Ciera gets to High School.

Yet the image of a man named Adrian taking grounders in the Florida sun has got me positively giddy.

Pitchers and Catchers and the random off season free agent pick up have arrived at Spring Training.

And I feel fine.

Tuesday, February 8, 2011

Sometimes all it takes is a simple thing

My sister sent me this in an email today.

If you can watch this and not tear up?

You're a better person than me.

Sometimes people, and the redemptive power of sports, will surprise the crap out of you.

Monday, February 7, 2011

The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow

I spent 2 1/2 hours cleaning the house today only to have Trot merrily walk his way across the living room with about 3 inches of mud on his shoes this afternoon.

Ciera came home with more baggage from Middle School than Logan International Airport sees on a Holiday Weekend.

Rakes somehow managed to get to school and back with 100 Pokemon cards and a cell phone in his pockets and NOT get caught.

And I'm fine with it.

Care to take a guess why?

Tomorrow is Truck Day.

Sunday, February 6, 2011

You Just Never Know

In Trot's 4 plus years on this earth I've seen him do a lot of off the wall stuff. Pee in everything BUT the toilet, put his shoes, shirt, AND pants on backwards, and I've even seen him with his legs crossed and sucking his big toe like some deranged Orangutan on his 5 minute break at the banana factory.

Today we crossed over into a new, disturbing and final frontier as I came downstairs and found my youngest son sitting on the couch merrily chewing on the end of the fly swatter.

Only an act of God is going to keep him from getting Ebola, Montezuma's Revenge, or Gangrene before the age of 20.

Saturday, February 5, 2011

And the Commercials Won't Measure Up

Like most of my predictions, I'm pulling this one directly from my posterior.

And while I realize it's not the most popular pick due to his off season problems, the man is 2-0 so far in Super Bowls. And with the Samoan assassin playing safety like a man on fire, I just can't pick against the Steelers.

Pittsburgh 31, Green Bay 21.

So the final score will probably be Green Bay 56, Pittsburgh 3.

One thing I DO know?

Pitchers and Catchers are reporting soon.

Friday, February 4, 2011

Married. With Children.

It's 10 day's until the "Most Romantic Day of the Year", the kids spent the night at my parents, and Ang and I had a nice dinner at Outback tonight.

She's currently asleep and I'm watching the National Geographic Channel which is broadcasting a show about bear poachers and dreaming of Opening Day.

Who said romance is dead?

Wednesday, February 2, 2011

There's a Bright Light at the end of the Tunnel.

Trot may have a raging case of head lice?

No worries.

Letting Rakes watch part of "Gone in 60 Seconds" tonight, possibly leading to a future life of crime as a car thief?

He's fast; maybe he can out run 'em.

Ciera turning into a teenager in 6 short months?

I'll worry about it when it gets here.

Truck Day is 5 days, 127 hours, and 7657 minutes away. Yes, I realize that doesn't really add up but I got it from Tex's blog so the over/under on whether it's accurate is 9:1.

Bottom line? It's close, which means Spring Training isn't far behind and Opening Day is right after that.

I'd quote Red from Shawshank, but you already know where I'm going.

Hope is indeed a beautiful thing.

Tuesday, February 1, 2011


Yeah, he's wearing flippers. Don't ask.

We got the call today that some kid at Trot's Pre-School came down with head lice (No, it wasn't him. He may be nuts but he's the cleanest little whacko you'll ever meet.) and school is closed until next Monday.

Thankfully, he was scheduled for a hair cut already for today, so he's got the next step up from The Marine Cut, had his hair washed with a special shampoo, and all his clothes, shoes, book bag, and anything else he touched today has been de-contaminated so hopefully we're in the clear.

My luck?

He finds two, breeds them in his bedroom next to his Wally doll, and I've got to fumigate my house for a month and go live with my parents.


This is yet another thing in a VERY LONG list of things Dr. Spock never tells you about.