Sir Charles had it all wrong

*Picture courtesy of Kelly and www.sittingstill.net*


"Dad, am I going to be a midget"?

This is what Rakes asked me tonight while I was making dinner and I have no idea where it came from. We've had talks from time to time where he asks how tall he'll be and while I have no idea I do tell him that based on the lack of height from both his parents I wouldn't hold out hope for being a basketball player when he grows up.

Then, not 15 minutes later, the game comes on and there is Pedroia and his eyes light up. Remembering the time I talked about how all his life every one has told Pedie he was too small to make it at whatever level he was at Rakes then says "Dad, if Pedroia can do that then so can I, right?"

Who says athletes aren't role models?

The Great Escape

I had been outside playing soccer with the boys for about an hour this evening when Keegan, running like there was a milk bone truck rounding the corner, came flying out of the house and took off down the street so fast I barely had time to process it.

Turns out Rakes had left the door in the garage wide open when he came back outside so the dog decided to take an afternoon run. Ang gets in the van to try and find him while Trot and Rakes jump on their electric scooters like some demented Neighborhood Watch team and Ciera alternates between calling the dog's name and yelling "I Hate You!" at Rakes. Meanwhile I'm secretly thinking that my problem has been miraculously solved and imagine the dog running toward freedom with a smile on his face.

His freedom, and my fantasy of a dog-less existence proved to be short lived and I'm happy (or not so happy) to say the dog is currently laying at my feet after being found at a house about a half mile from ours by a surprised home owner.

I should have got a turtle.

Lions, Tigers, and Bears.

Think he had a good time on his field trip today?

Well, other than trying to feed an ostrich with the food in his hand and not in the bucket.

But other than that?

We had a ball.

Field Trip

I'm taking the day off work tomorrow to go on a field trip with Trot to a place called the Lazy 5 Ranch, where I've gone before with Ciera and Rakes when they were in Kindergarten.

You ride in a wagon holding a bucket off feed and every so often the wagon stops and all kinds of animals like ostriches, llamas, pigs, cows, antelope, etc... come right up and eat out of the bucket.

Me, Trot, food, and wild animals.

This has got Funniest Home Videos written all over it.

Hail To The Chief

Hello.

I may be the leader of the Free World someday.

Consider yourself warned.

P.S. I like cheese. A LOT of cheese.

Just an FYI in case I'm in control of the nuclear football in about 40 years.

Little Einstein. Or Not.

Trot won the "Hardest Worker at Math" in his Kindergarten class at an awards assembly today and I'm not exactly sure how to take it.

Don't get me wrong; I'm proud of him for winning an award but I'm not exactly sure how to take "Hardest Worker" which could really mean a whole lot of things.

I guess I'll just take it for what it is and be glad he didn't get the "Most Likely to have His own Desk in the Principals Office" in the next 3 years.

Also he and Rakes got "Perfect Attendance" awards which shows that if nothing else?

They at least show up to play.

Time to wake up the Bambino?

Well, that was a giant kick to the Spaldings.

A 9 run lead after 6 innings somehow turns into a 15-9 loss where the bull pen makes the Bad News Bears look like an All-Star team and the manager suddenly looked every bit of his 61 years.

All I know is there is nothing I'd like better than to get up tomorrow morning and read the Sox have signed a certain right hander who is currently retired and probably sitting underneath a Mango tree wondering if he's got one more dance in the Light Fandango left in him.

Time to come home, Pedey.

Hello Again

After several weeks of being on "green" at school with just a few "yellows" mixed in we finally had another Defcon 4 today. Trot came home on "red".

When I tried to to find out what happened during our daily phone call/status update once he got home from school he spent 3 minutes pretending he didn't hear me after I asked what happened. Once that jig was up he told me that some random kid pushed him and told the teacher Trot was the pusher and not the pushee. In a way only a Dad who thinks his son has been wronged, I spoke with righteous indignation and told him I would fire off an email to his teacher.

This was met by stunned silence, a few seconds of the phone being rattled and the words "Here's Nanny".

Turns out he basically shut out the teacher all day and did what he wanted to which resulted in him landing on red and getting grounded for the rest of the week. Think "Ferris Buellers Day Off", only Ferris is a bald 6 year old, can't drive and didn't get away with it.

If he ever comes home and tells me his best friend is named Cameron and he likes a girl named Sloane I'm gonna run into the woods behind the house and live in a tree until he leaves home.

A Ferret's Life For Me

*Picture courtesy of my friend Kelly and www.sittingstill.net*


This is Steve. He's a Ferret. Not a real one, although sometimes I wonder.

He's been to Fenway Park hundreds of times, been photographed with multiple players, and can Palooze with the best of 'em. In fact, the first time I met Steve was in Baltimore when he came flying through the air at me, courtesy of a well placed sling shot by Kelly.

He's got his own uniform, a Kyle Snyder autographed jersey, and probably has more friends on Facebook than I do. The only reason I don't know this for sure is I'm afraid to actually check.

And now he's got something that will live on forever, or at least as long as Fenway Park is standing.

A brick. Inside Fenway Park.

This may be the most awesome thing I've ever seen.

One Fine Day

*Image courtesy of yahoosports.com*


I realize Jacoby getting hurt sliding into second is a bad thing. I know they won't score 12 runs a game just as sure as I know Trot won't go a week without peeing in the bed. And as much as it pains me to say it I realize Josh Beckett won't be the ace every time he pitches.

But today in Fenway? Under a beautiful sunny sky Beckett was Beckett going 8 strong, everybody hit and hit well and the Sox took it to the Rays 12-2 in Fenway Park's opener in the 100th year of the ball park.

Tek and Wake threw out the first pitch, I had at least 4 friends that I know of at the game and I'm pretty sure Teddy Ballgame was looking on and smiling.

Now I'm off to go find some rubber sheets.

Home Sweet Home

Trot has wet the bed 3 times since the start of the season.

The Red Sox are 1-5.

Don't tell me it's just a coincidence.

Back at Fenway tomorrow, which is good.

For four games with the Rays, which isn't quite so good.

Here we go.

Mayberry We Ain't

The kids were out of school yesterday and being that it was a picture perfect North Carolina day, Ang and I took them fishing at the local lake. We packed a picnic lunch, got some blankets to lay on and looked forward to a day out in some fresh air.

On the way I told both boys that the first one to put their foot in the lake was going to have to sit out for an hour and watch the other ones fish because we can't seem to go to the lake without somebody trying to walk on water or swear they saw a fish and were trying to impale it on their toenail or some other cockamamie excuse.

We weren't there 2 minutes and I hadn't got the first hook baited when we heard...... splash.

Somehow Trot had gone rear end over tea kettle into the lake, all 3 foot of him and had this look of "How did this happen?" as all 4 of us practically peed our pants from laughing and spent the next 1 1/2 hours wearing his underwear and Ang's hoodie while his clothes dried in the sun.

Needless to say we didn't catch any fish. Again. Rakes got his fishing pole hooked in a tree while standing on a bench (don't ask), Trot flailed away at the water with HIS pole like he was beating a duck to death and went to the bathroom in his pants while frantically trying to make it up to the rest room at the top of the hill.

I blame myself. Every time we decide to go fishing I've got the image of Andy and Opie heading to the old fishing hole in my head while they've got Pantera blaring in theirs.

Next time?

I'm taking 'em back home.

To the zoo.

Happy Easter

The boys went on an Easter Egg hunt today.

And totally got it all wrong.

However, somehow these two knuckleheads managed to each find a Golden egg that got them a prize which only goes to prove the old adage;

Even a blind squirrel finds a nut every now and then.

Only this time it was TWO nuts.

Spring has finally Sprung

The dog is still hacking up candy and wrappers he ate 5 days ago? No problem.

Caught Trot trying (and thankfully failing) to feed the dog with stomach issues a chocolate pop tart earlier? No problem.

Red Sox closer Andrew Bailey on the DL already with a thumb issue and Beckett has seen 2 specialists about his OWN thumb issue and Youk is hitting around the Mendoza line for Spring Training? No problem.

Iran working on nukes and North Korea has one, making the two craziest regimes this side of the guy in Venezuela and Jr's Fantasy Baseball teams? Meh.

'Cause tomorrow is Opening Day, albeit in Detroit and I'll be at work when the game is on. But still; it's Opening Freaking Day and that means for the next 6 months there will be baseball. The video is a little long but if you're a fan of the game? Well worth the listen.

Happy Baseball Season.

It's A Dog Life

In yet another reminder that we have a lot to learn about having an indoor dog I bring you the following story.

Ang and the kids had already headed over to my parents house for dinner tonight when I ran home after work to change into my "non-work" clothes. Usually when I enter the house the four legged creature that has taken over my home is RIGHT in front of the door waiting to attempt to lick all the skin on my body. Today? No dog.

After hollering his name several times I could hear a faint whining sound emanating from my bedroom. Upon entering the room I discovered my closet door completely closed and scratching coming from the other side. I opened the door, Keagan ran out and I found two bags of Carmel Creames tore open on the floor with the individual wrappers opened up just like a human would do it. Oh yeah, the light was on and Ang SWORE she turned it off.

So I've got $7 worth of candy gone, a dog that apparently can turn a light on and close a door but not open it and the sinking feeling that no matter now often I take this thing out to go to the bathroom I'm gonna find a not so nice surprise waiting for me in the morning.

I've have GOT to install closed circuit cameras in the near future.

Imagine, just a few short weeks ago I was worried that Trot was going to be the one who sent me to an early grave.

A Hot Dog and a Life Lesson

Who knew Trot would bring me one of the sweetest moments I've ever had that involved somebody I'd never met before?

Ciera spent the night with a friend and Ang and I took the boys out for hot dogs for dinner.Right as we're getting ready to wind our meal up this man I've never seen before, along with an adorable little girl wearing a bandanna appeared at our table.

"My daughter just wanted to know if your son is ok?" he asked. I explained that Trot had alopecia and he informed me that his daughter, a 7th grader for God's sake, just finished her Chemo and had spotted Trot the minute we walked in the door of Zacks, our local hot dog establishment.

And just like that all my self pity over my son losing his hair and worrying about other kids making fun of him went flying out the window. My son is perfectly healthy except for having no hair, yet this precious little girl fighting cancer saw us walk in and immediately worried about HIM.

I fully believe Trot's hair will come all the way back one day in the near future but if it doesn't?

Sweet Holy Moses I've still got so much to be thankful for.

I'm pretty sure I'll remember that sweet little girl for a long, long time.

Leave it to a child to remind us of what is REALLY important.

The Prince of the House

* I got the idea for this post from tonight's episode of "Touch" on FOX, but all likenesses and other crap is strictly coincidental*


Once upon a time a young prince was born and he was a sweet, docile child.

For all of about 5 seconds.

From then on the prince has been a whirling dervish of pee and mischief who has provided his royal family hours and hours of angst and joy. While other princes learn to fence and ride horses and fight with swords this prince just fights with swords. And pees. EVERYWHERE.

Other princes are blue eyed and blond haired and while this prince has the blue eyes the blond hair has disappeared, albeit hopefully temporarily. Other princes learn how to woo a princess and eat regally and all the other noble stuff princes do, this prince, MY prince likes to fart. And burp. Sometimes at the same time.

And while my prince may not be the ideal example for royalty, he's the greatest prince I've ever known. He's  funny and smart and kind. He loves his Mom and Dad and brother and sister and although he has a strange way of showing it he loves his dog too. Good luck convincing the dog of that by the way.

Prince Trot turned 6 today and even though he's aged me in doggie years for 42 in that time frame I couldn't love the little maniac any more than I already do.

And yes. The fact that he could possible become President one day scares the ever loving crap out of me.

Happy Birthday, Dirt Dog.

Thhhhh That's All, Folks.

Every day around 3 o'clock I call home and check in on how the boys made out at school that particular day and every day my Mom or my Father in Law usually has something to tell me about what Trot or Rakes or sometimes both had to say.

Today was no exception.

My Mom took the boys to McDonalds for lunch and along the way realized both of them were leaning way too forward in the seat so she asked if they were buckled in. Turns out they were but really loose so Mom did the old standard "It would be a shame if I got pulled over by a policeman and they took my driver's license away because you two weren't buckled up properly. Nanny wouldn't be able to take you places or come over or go anywhere. Wouldn't you feel bad about that?"

A half second later the following took place.

Rakes: "Nanny, I know how you get a drivers license."

Nanny: "You do? How?"

Rakes: "Well, I was watching Daffy Duck the other day...." and proceeded to spend the next 10 minutes detailing how Daffy Duck went to the DMV to get his license. Never mind the fact that Daffy is a cartoon character and the episode more than likely involved a talking pig and rabbit, Rakes told this story with a straight face like he was reading the newspaper.

I may need to sit down and explain that not EVERYTHING you see on tv is, you know, REAL.

And A Dirt Dog Shall Lead Them

*Image courtesy of Associate Press*


There will come a point during the season where I'm pretty sure Bobby V's self promotion will make Hulk Hogan blush.

I'm also pretty sure that by May I'll utter the words "If I hear one more story about chicken and beer in the clubhouse I'm gonna toss an otter through the bathroom window".

And I'm 99.9% certain that Jr and I will have come THIS close to having a Steel Cage Match on public access television over whether Josh Beckett is an elite pitcher (my position) or he just plain sucks. (Jr's stance)

The one thing I'm 100% sure about?

As long as Dustin Pedroia is hitting bombs, talking trash, getting his uniform as dirty as humanly possible and driving Valentine up a tree?

I can make it.

I can make it through Ciera's downward spiral into a mouthy teenager.

Through Trot's Alopecia, urination, and terrorizing the dog.

Through all the fighting and arguing between Rakes and Ciera about who bothered who first and who stole the other one's pencil and all the other crap that is going to spring up over the next 6 months.

In Pedroia I Trust.

Sunday in Suburbia

I find myself yelling a lot lately and I don't know whether it's my advancing years causing my impatience or the kids or El Nino but I end up blowing my top like Etna about twice a week.

Tonight it was brought about by Rakes taking Ciera's pencil box at some point over the weekend and Ciera going completely bonkers and every time I tried to speak and find out where Rakes put the pencils she would yell in that way that only teenagers can yell and after about 5 minutes I went off like that guy in "Broadcast News".

I have no idea what I said; it was just about a 45 second long rant where I'm pretty sure the veins in my neck made me look like Bruce Banner and my blood pressure went up about 100 points and the dog ran out of the room like he'd chewed on the bottom of the television and I'd caught him in the act.

Throw in the fact Rakes got up about 475 times after I put him to bed and Trot is turning the dog into a basket case and Ang spent the weekend with a migraine and I'm THIS close to a nervous breakdown.

Thank God tomorrow's Monday.

The Hat Becomes Him

*Image courtesy of my awesome brother in law Marty*


I'm pretty sure Pancho Villa got his start this way.

Sipping a Sprite at a local Mexican restaurant an hour past his bed time and hopped up on cheese dip and salsa.

A Mild Reprieve

There isn't anything, and I mean ANYTHING that can't be made better by the following words.

I love you, Dad.

Especially when it's spoken by the child you spend most of the time envisioning as running the Gambino family someday.

GOOOOOOOAL!!!

Today, much like the parting of the Red Sea, Jimmie Johnson's hair and Al Roker being gainfully employed, a miracle happened.

Trot scored 8 goals in his soccer game. Not one or two by luck or chance but EIGHT goals where he ran hard, dribbled the ball and shot with both feet. After 2 1/2 seasons of doing cart wheels, picking flowers, and happily chatting on the bench instead of focusing on the field he all of a sudden turned into a bald, pint size version of Pele who had this look of pure happiness as he clomped up and down the field.

I'm sure by Saturday that competitive fire that burst out tonight will have abated and he'll be back to asking the kid on the other team if he collects Pokemon cards but for tonight?

You couldn't wipe the grin off my face with an industrial grade sander.

It's a Dog's Life

We're one week into being dog owners and finally making progress.

The dog doesn't follow me to the bathroom anymore and wait RIGHT outside the door like I'm going to come out with the world's biggest Milk Bone for him.

On the other hand I've found Trot on multiple occasions with the dogs front paws on his shoulders and the two of them dancing like some demented Fred Astaire/Cujo combination so we're not exactly out of the woods yet

In a related note I'm thinking about installing closed circuit cameras in the house to finally uncover what exactly a dog does in an 8 hour day when nobody is home.

Ready? You Bet I'm Ready

Somehow, in the midst of waiting for Opening Day and the first new episode of "Deadliest Catch" I missed the fact there is a show about these crazy maniacs who dive into the Bering Sea to dredge for gold on it's bottom.

First, where have I been?

Second, how have I missed this?

Third, the only thing that would make it better is if the Hillstrand brothers came rolling up on the Time Bandit with Pedroia standing at the front of the boat yelling "I'M THE KING OF THE WORLD!!"

Sweet Flipping Frances I'm gonna lose it before the first game.

All I'm Missing Is A Ring of Fire

Today we learned a very important lesson; no matter how good a dog has been about leaving food on your plate alone or passively watch while you make a sandwich for lunch or just sit and look at you while you put out food for dinner on the counter you never do one important thing.

Leave an apple pie out on the counter while you go outside to talk to the neighbor. 'Cause that sucker is going to be GONE.

Thank God it wasn't chocolate or I'd be feeding this dog medicine to make it throw up while I held his head in my hands.

So, to clarify I now have a teenage daughter who I'm pretty sure swiveled her head 360 degrees the other night, an 8 year old who occasionally stammers like Mel Tillis, a 5 year old with alopecia and a propensity for public urination, a wife working full time and taking her Master's Degree classes online and a dog with a craving for apple pie and Opening Day is about 2 weeks away.

I gotta be out of my ever loving mind.

Keagan and Me

Meet Keagan, the newest addition to the family. Part Golden Retriever, part something or other we brought him home yesterday.

Naturally, Trot has been in full on overload and it's taking both boys some time to understand the fact he's not trying to bite their arm off when he gets excited while playing with them. Ciera is supposedly the one who is going to take care of it and so far, so good. I keep telling myself it's only been a day so not get too excited.

He's house trained, has all his shots, is fixed and has a microchip so money wise I'm doing OK so far. He's also been left alone for several hours and as far as I can tell hasn't touched a thing except a Santa Claus paper Trot had on the refrigerator for some reason.

Even with all that I still keep asking myself one question.

How in God's name did I let them talk me into a dog?

Caught in the Middle

I'm 41 years old and other than breaking my nose 5 times and my collarbone once in misguided attempts to keep my youth playing church softball, I've never really had any health problems. Unless you count mental problems that is.

On Tuesday morning I stepped out of bed and just about went to my knees with pain in my back I've never felt. I limped my way through Tuesday and groaned my way through Tuesday night, sure that I would feel myself in the morning.

No such luck; Wednesday was worse and after sleeping with a heating pad strapped to my back Thursday was a little better although I walked around like a 98 year old with osteoporosis most of the day. After finally getting a decent nights sleep last night I was sure I was on my way to recovery only to have today feel like Wednesday all over again.

I have no idea what I did and I'm starting to worry I'm gonna have to see a Doctor if this doesn't get better. My Pop has had three back surgeries over the years and if my pain is any indication of what his was? He's a whole lot tougher than I've ever given him credit for.

Somehow Trot is to blame for this.

I just KNOW it.

Too Many Birthdays

After feeling absolutely crappy with some kind of cold all weekend I was starting to come around a little last night and was looking forward to going to work today. This changed when my feet hit the floor and an excruciating stab of pain hit my lower back and I think I screamed like a little girl at the time; the fact I think I blacked out keeps me from  knowing for sure.

I spent the rest of the day walking around hunched over like Quasimodo and yelping every third step or so and wondering if I should just step in front of a car and get it over with. It took me roughly 10 minutes to climb into the bed tonight so I could read books to the boys and Rakes had to help me get up. It's so bad at point I'm wondering if someone has a voodoo doll of a short pre-mature grey middle aged man and is just having a blast.

The only thing that has helped since I got home is the following conversation I had with Trot.

Trot: "Dad, is there a sight word called but?"

Me: "Yep. Why?"

Trot: "We learned it today. My teacher said if anybody giggles when they say it they have to move their card to yellow."

Opening Day is April 5th.

I hope I make it.

And So It Goes

One of the principals at the boy's school is also a member of our church and today he ended up sitting right behind us. During a break in the service he leaned over to Ang and asked if Trot's teacher had told us about the visit he made to Trot's class last week.

Turns out during a routine class inspection the teacher had pulled him aside and asked him to speak with Trot in private about a certain incident that had just taken place.

How he managed a straight face (At one point he told Ang he had to briefly walk away so Trot wouldn't see him losing it) he asked Trot, and I quote "We you trying to look up your teacher's dress?"

To which Trot replied "Yes. But only a little bit".

Yay. Now we get to add perv to the face licking and other general mayhem.

And he's not even 6 years old.

I wonder of they keep World Records for that sort of thing?

When I write a book this is Chapter One

Per my usual Thursday morning routine I went and ate with Rakes and Trot before work. Or rather I went and sat with them while they ate; 10:30 in the morning is a little too early in the day for me to think about eating. Anyways, everything was going fine until about 5 minutes before Rakes was done and I looked up and saw Trot walking down the hall with his very nice teacher looking like he had lost his best friend.

In my mind I know something is wrong; first off his teacher never brings him down while Rakes is eating and secondly Trot looks like he's walking the Green Mile to his execution and he's crying. This is a child who wouldn't cry if he was missing a limb so I'm fairly certain this is some behavior related issue. What ensued was a new one, even for me.

Nice Teacher Lady: "Trot wanted me to call his Mom instead of you but when we went to the office they said you were here already."

Me: "What happened now?"

Nice Teacher Lady: "Well, we were lining up to go into the hall and Trot, well, he licked the boy in front of him on the head".

Me: ....

Nice Teacher Lady: "I didn't see it but another child told me. He just leaned up and licked him".

Me: "Like a cat"?

Nice Teacher Lady: "Apparently".

Me: ....

There aren't many times I'm speechless but this was one of  them. After sputtering on about personal space and hygiene and how we don't LICK people for God's sake they went on their merry way and I was left once again shaking my head in disbelief. When I asked him why he did it I got the standard "I don't KNOW!" amid all the tears and I STILL don't think he knows why he did it. He just thought that licking some kid on the head was a good idea I guess.

I've got three kids and I've read that stupid book a thousand times but that freaking Dr. Spock never ONCE  mentioned licking some kids head.

Dink.

Bizarro World

Apparently the pet adoption center decided that an elderly retired couple was better suited to raise Bishop than Trot and I really can't blame them.

So we're back to Phase 1 which is me frantically searching the Internet for a dog while trying to keep it a secret from the three wee people who live here.

All I know is Trot asked for a dog for his birthday and I'm pretty sure that even if it's Cujo himself that I end up with Ang is gonna make sure that kid gets a dog.

Which begs the following question; How in the name of Ted Williams did I end up at this point? One week ago I was happily wallowing on my 14 year old furniture and now I've got a new sofa, love seat, and recliner that I'm going to subject to a 4 legged animal that likes to chew on things and pee on the floor?

'Cause it seems like it was just yesterday when I was yelling at Trot for doing the exact same thing.

End of an Era

*Image courtesy of Kelly and www.sittingstill.net*


In yet another sign that no matter how young I feel I'm getting older by the day, Jason Varitek will retire this Thursday.

He came in what may be one of the most lopsided trades in history and leaves with 2 World Series championships, caught 4 no hitters and wore the Captain's C with pride. He also glove punched Slappy in the game that many feel sort of got that '04 team back on track and his Jersey is the only Red Sox jersey I own.

So long, Captain.

Job well done.

Bowling. For Dummies

My little band of roaming terrors hit the local bowling alley today and proceeded to basically run amok.

First was the game room where Trot pulled his lone dollar bill out, traded it in for quarters and with the greatest confidence asked me to win him a stuffed animal in one of those Claw games that NEVER work. After trying and failing to convince him that these things are a huge waste of time and money I dropped two quarters in and while I'm trying to convince him I'm not coming up with anything I somehow manage to snag TWO of them with one try. Go figure.

Afterwords we hit the alley where I was pretty rusty but still did 156 and Trot and Rakes decided that throwing underhanded wasn't working and proceeded to chuck the thing like a shot putt before I could stop them. Thankfully I'd sold the kid behind the counter and his mother some furniture a few months back and he just gave me a smile and did the time honored "It's all good" hand motion.

It cost me $25 and a mild tremor in my right hand but all in all?

Not a bad way to spend a Sunday.

Finally, on the Bishop front we, along with several other applications are being considered so hopefully we'll hear something in the next few days. In a surprising turn of events, Ang is out in front as the one who is gonna be the most disappointed if this doesn't work out.

I've got a sinking feeling that no matter what happens with Bishop?

I'm getting a 4 legged animal to go with my 2 legged ones someday soon.

I've Finally Lost My Ever Loving Mind

Against my better judgement Ang and I have decided to try to adopt. It's been a long period of prayer and introspection by her and a lot of pleading and crying by me, but she's completely worn me down with pleas for another little one to join our raucous band of future circus performers or as I like to refer to them "Jackass: The New Class".

Part of me hopes the adoption agency shows up for an interview, gets one look at Trot and Rakes imitating the Tasmanian Devil and running around in their underoos and decides to call the whole thing off.

The other half of me sort of misses a 1year old toddling around, peeing on the carpet and destroying anything not nailed down in it's path. So yeah, after 13 years and FINALLY getting everyone potty trained I'm willing to go all in and give it one more shot; we submitted the application just a few minutes ago to add one more member to the 3 Ring Circus we call our home.

Meet Bishop. A one year old Shi Tzu who is crate trained, has all his shots, is fixed, and if this goes through will be the first dog to need a full time shrink after Trot gets through with him.

*P.S. If you see one of the kids keep it on the down low. We're going to surprise them if it all goes through. Thank God Trot can't read and Ciera and Rakes wouldn't get caught dead reading this thing.*

Pele Part Duh

Rakes started his last year of U6 soccer before moving up to U8 in the fall last week and as his Dad I'm thrilled he loves doing something that doesn't involve a video game or driving me to an early grave.

The fact that he's pretty good at it only makes it better; he's fast, can run for days, has good ball control and has a competitive streak a mile long. Tonight during practice they were having passing drills and Rakes was paired off with two girls on his team; at one point he was actively trying to win a passing contest somehow. He told me later that he didn't want them "kicking it better" than him.

Plus I'm pretty sure he will never be able to work some random Star Wars question into the subject of soccer, which makes it pretty much the one thing I can do with him that I won't have to mutter the phrase "I don't know, son".

So I've got that going for me.

Which is nice.

Getting Closer

It's 32 degrees and snowing.

The kids have tomorrow off from school and will spend the day cooped up in the house with me. All day.

Rakes has turned into a compulsive liar over night, Ciera gets grumpier by the hour and Trot is, well Trot.

Yet I'm close to giddy.

And that picture is the reason why. Pitchers and catchers have reported and baseball is around 6 weeks away.

It ain't bright yet but that light at the end of the tunnel?

It's there.

Last Guy Out Please Turn Out The Lights

*Image courtesy of Kelly and www.sittingstill.net*


As a guy who is pushing 42 I still like to think of myself as young. Not teenager young, mind you but young enough to get out and play ball with my sons and generally not embarrass myself young.

I think that's why I took the news that Tim Wakefield retired today so hard; he's just a few years older than me and I'll I've read about is how old the guy was and how it was time to retire and hang it up. I realize being in your 40's in real life isn't the same as being in your 40's in sports, yet it sort of harshes your mellow when a guy just a few years older than you is considered over the hill.

Wake retiring isn't just an end of an era; it's one of the last links to a time before the taint of PED's and The Mitchell Report. It's about a guy who looked like he just walked off the assembly line with his beer gut and bow legged walk who packed his lunch pail every day and showed up, kissed babies, autographed every thing put in front of him, spent more time visiting with sick kids than ten of the average players combined and then went out and threw the freakiest pitch you'll ever see that sent just about every guy who went up to the plate just KNOWING he was going to crush it back to the dugout shaking his head and wondering what the  crap just happened.

When Aaron Boone sent the Sox and Wake packing in ' 03 every Sox fan I know felt like they'd been kicked in the jimmy. Not just because they lost, but because it was Timmy who gave it up. And when they won it all the very next year I'd be a bald faced liar if I said the sight of Wake standing on the mound in St. Louis getting doused in beer didn't bring a tear to my eye. 'Cause if anyone deserved that moment, it was Wake.

So for the first time in 17 years the Red Sox won't have Tim Wakefield around. And while I grudgingly agree that it was time to start a new era?

It just won't feel the same.

Via Con Dios, Timmeh.

And thanks.

Another Ward Cleaver Moment

Looking like an extra from "Mad Max" thanks to a spill on his bike before church last night I joined Trot for lunch today. It wasn't but a few minutes in before his teacher came over and informed me Trot was on yellow for random acts of insanity in the few hours he'd been at school.

After what I felt was a really good Father/Son bonding moment where I calmly explained why it's important to listen and do what we're told and with a firm promise he'd be much better the rest of the day I left school feeling really good about how the afternoon would unfold.

Until I got home and saw the note from his teacher telling how he did a flying body roll to a classmate on the rug while laughing like a gorilla on meth.

I have no idea how this kid is going to someday graduate middle school.

Romance. Or Something.

20 years ago today I did the smartest thing I've ever done, before or since.

I asked Ang to marry me and for some weird reason known only to herself she said yes.

Two decades later here we are, with 3 great kids, a mortgage, taking kids to soccer and dance and church and wondering if I need to sell one kidney or both to pay for college for 3. Or maybe just 2, depending on what happens with Trot in the next few years; either he gets a academic scholarship or he runs off and joins the Foreign Legion. At this point it could go either way.

We've evolved from flowers and candlelit dinners and nights at the movie theater to eating at home with Sponge Bob blaring in the background and movies like "Rio" and "Toy Story". And nights sitting up late talking have turned into both of us struggling to stay awake much less try to form a coherent sentence.

But I guess being able to say you're more in love today than you were back then after factoring in all the other stuff?

Not too bad at all.

Happy Valentines Day, Ang.

And thank God it comes BEFORE baseball season than during it.

Or we may not have made it 20 years.

The Three Ring Circus Hits The Road

Thanks to the free tickets from a very nice advertising sales lady who comes in the store, I took the kids to the circus today. And while the tigers were great, the elephants huge, the clowns funny, and the music lovingly cheesy, two things happened that really stood out and made it a memorable day.

First, there was a family behind us that, and I don't know this for sure mind you and am only guessing, was probably made up of grandparents that were second cousins, a daughter I'm pretty sure wasn't older than 17 who had a son named Bradley who get my vote for "Most Annoying People on the Planet".

I say this because the Grandmother would yell "Bradley, do you see the clowns?" and "Bradley, do you see the Tigers?" and "Bradley, do you see the elephants?" when there were so many of each out there at the same time I'm guessing Ray Charles could see that it was either clowns or tigers or elephants and he's blind AND dead.

Throw in the fact that Grandpa would give the rebel yell every 5 seconds for anything that happened (which caused Rakes at one point to lean over and ask me if, and I quote "Dad, is that guy OK?") and I was THIS close to turning around and asking him if he'd been dropped on his head at birth.

Second, the Ringmaster had a sidekick who was a midget. Or dwarf. I'm not really sure which one is the politically correct version, but it really doesn't matter. During one of the clown parts he climbed up a tower to rescue Rapunzel and once he reached the top the soaring strains of "I'm too sexy" blared out of the speakers.

And Trot, in full throttle voice, turns to me and yells..........

"Dad! They're playing MY song!"

Spring Training starts the end of this week.

Thank God.

And Away We Go

Sometimes, well MOST of the time, I feel like I'm in a car just starting down this really HUGE hill and as I hit the breaks I realize that they don't flipping work.

One day Ciera is in her room playing with Barbie dolls and the next she's buying this really pretty dress that makes her look like she's 18 and makes me feel like I'm 75.

Tonight Ciera went to a Valentine's Dance at school in a limo with about 12 other giggling teens and I'm reminded with the subtlety of a Mike Tyson punch to the Nether Region that my sweet little baby girl isn't so little anymore.

At least I've got Rakes and Trot to keep me sane.

Oh, and I believe all the kids call this a "photo bomb".

 Sweet Holy Moses I'm not gonna make it to 60.

13 Again

As a lifelong fan of professional wrestling (more of a sideline fan now. I sort of keep up via the Internet but don't watch much anymore unless the kids turn it on) I had a nice surprise today.

I'd already met Sgt. Slaughter in the store a few years ago and today Don Kernodle came in and bought a recliner.

And even though he's in his 60's now and I'm 41 all of a sudden I was 13 again and visiting my Aunt in Virginia during the summer where I could watch all the guys from Mid-Atlantic Championship Wrestling that I read about in the magazines growing up in Oklahoma.

Just goes to show that even though we get older that little impressionable kid inside doesn't truly ever go away.

The Material Girl Couldn't Top This If She Tried

After sitting through Madonna and a bunch of other people I'd never heard of the other night I got to thinking about the Super Bowl halftime acts over the years.

Thankfully I was too young to remember Up with People and was too much of a metal head at the time to enjoy most of the late 80's/early 90's. The Stones looked old, Bruce rocked, and Prince was fantastic if you like Prince.

For me? Hands down the best halftime show was performed in the shadows of 9/11 when everybody was expecting terrorists to bomb every place where a ton of people were gathered and the Super Bowl was as big a target as any.

4 guys from Ireland rolled into the Big Easy and on a day when the Patriots FINALLY won the big one delivered the most stirring tribute to those who died that horrible day before or since.

I really wish Roger Goodell read this blog.



P.S.? When Bono opens his jacket at the end?

Still gives me goose bumps.

There is a Light at the end of Winter

I just saw Scenic Lowell on my television and Truck Day is this Saturday.

Short of Trot and Rakes suddenly getting Perfect Behavior awards at school, Ciera deciding she's just not going to date until she's 30 and hitting the Lottery?

I'm pretty much set.

Baseball.

Is.

Coming.

Future Nerds

5 minutes before the Super Bowl, a 50 inch flat screen tv with HD directly to their left, and Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum are playing video games and watching Lego Batman videos on the computer.

There are at least 2 human beings on earth who don't buy the hype.

Spreading the Love

Apparently Rakes' adventure with the bus driver yesterday was only a prelude to today, as Trot came home for the first time on red.

Red is the kindergarten equivalent of 3 strikes so this was a pretty big deal. Apparently he not only decided not to listen to his regular teacher but decided the music teacher needed a good old fashioned headache as well. The weird thing is he HATES having to move his pin, yet some inner voice that I'm sure one day will lead him to plant M 80's in the High School toilet just won't let him NOT get into trouble.

I keep telling myself that maybe he's just getting it all out of his system now and that one day in the future, as we  gaze at his College Diploma while celebrating him being the valedictorian of his graduating class that we'll look back on all this and have a good laugh.

Somebody's gotta win the lottery, right?

Rebel. With a Cause.

Sometime around 3 p.m. each day I call home and ask either my Mom or my Father in Law how the boys are and did they have a good day at school. Today, my FIL informs me he had to talk to the bus driver; seems as if Rakes was throwing spit balls at some other little kid en route to home.

Being that he sits in the second seat behind the bus driver the fact he thought he could get away with this without the driver seeing him makes me wonder if he thinks he's just that slick not to get caught or the bus driver is a blind, blithering idiot.

Turns out, this is the second time he's gotten in trouble and if it happens a third time he gets to go visit the principals office. It also means he would be banned from the bus for a week and I'd have to leave work, pick him up, drive him home, and then go back to work.

This episode follows a week of being on blue, a second taking away of a yo-yo he's not supposed to have at school, and staying up last night until 2 playing his Nintendo DS that he somehow found in it's hiding place and smuggled up to his room.

I'm sort of scared to ask my Mom if this reminds her of anyone she once knew.

Hump Day

You know it's gonna be a LONG day for Heckle and Jeckle when the last thing their mother says to them is "If you even THINK about coming home on any other color than green today you can forget about seeing the outside world before next Wednesday".

Seems like their wish of each being named "Class Clown" in the yearbook this year just got blown to smithereens.

Along with my wish for an ulcer-free Spring.

The Things I Do

In my time as a Dad to three kids, in particular a beautiful girl who has somehow gone from being a small baby to a 13 year old with attitude to burn, I've done a lot of things I never envisioned myself doing back when I was single and footloose and fancy free.

I've changed diapers, played Barbie, pushed a swing set for more hours than I care to admit, and painted a room pink. I've done mind numbing homework, signed off on reading lists, helped with projects, and bought more clothes and toys than I like to remember.

Today however, we moved into uncharted territory.

Feminine Hygiene.

To say I felt like an idiot standing in this massive isle of multi-colored boxes while holding a piece of the box Ang gave me looking like some moron playing a match game would be an understatement. Mind you, I've always known this isle was at the grocery store but much like the parts of the store that hold Depends and healthy food I've never ventured down that particular level of hell.

Why are there so many different kinds? Even milk only has a few; whole, fat free, 2%.... There appeared to be THOUSANDS of these things. This is a whole freaking cottage industry that somehow grew up while I was flipping channels and avoiding the Lifetime Network like it had the Ebola virus. Never in my life have I been that glad to get out of a grocery store.

I love my daughter more than anything in this world and would take a bullet for her if I had to. But as I left that store today I made myself this solemn vow:

I'll walk her down an isle one day in the not to distant future but I won't walk down THAT isle again.

A Sword Now

Since nobody has set anything on fire, ran naked down the street, gotten expelled or destroyed public property in the last few days I found another video taken a few years ago. Hard to believe they both were that little not that long ago. Now I'm dealing with Alopecia and Rakes' new desire to be called "Class Clown" in this years yearbook. And I'd totally forgotten Trot's penchant for saying "CHEESE" over and over again when getting his picture taken.

100 to 1 Kid Rock Is There Opening Day

While watching MLB Networks coverage of the Prince Fielder signing by the Tigers, Trot looked up and asked "Is he a wrestler, Dad? I bet he could beat John Cena!"

Prince, Cabrera, Verlander, and Jim By God Leyland?

All of a sudden I have a second favorite team to root for and pray the Sox don't meet them in the playoffs.

Motor City just got SERIOUS.

It's not The Dougie. But it'll do.

One day, when he brings that girl over for the first time to meet me? This is SO going to be played. On a loop.

Growth

I now know how Indiana Jones felt when he found the Ark of the Covenant. Pure bliss.

Some dear friends of ours called Ang yesterday and wanted to go out to eat tonight, so I spent 15 minutes breathing into a paper bag and decided that Ciera would be fine staying home with the boys for a couple of hours.

Mind you, I had a few moments at dinner where I asked myself "what in God's name have you done?" and a few times where I debated calling 911 as a precautionary measure but resisted the urge and forged on.

At 8:45 I hesitantly turned onto my street half expecting to see 3 fire engines and an ambulance sitting in front of my house, yet all was peaceful and calm.

Turns out, other than Trot biting Rakes, writing all over his arms with red permanent marker and some cookie crumbs on the floor nobody was bleeding, crying, tied up or hobbled and Ang and I can breathe a small sigh of relief knowing that we can, after about 13 years, actually have some sort of social life that doesn't revolve around Chuck E Cheese.

Yes Virginia, there really IS a Santa Claus.

More Manny being Manny?

*Image courtesy of Kelly O and www.sittingstill.net*

To paraphrase the indomitable Don King?

Only in America.

http://tracking.si.com/2012/01/20/report-oakland-athletics-very-interested-in-manny-ramirez/?sct=hp_t2_a9&eref=sihp

Strap on your industrial sized seat belts and hop on board the roller coaster.

And So It Begins....

Trot had to go to the principals office today.

Details are vague, but reportedly it had something to do with climbing on the sinks in the bathroom, not having his "listening ears" on and cheese.

I'm going to eat lunch with him tomorrow so hopefully I'll get the details but I've got a sinking feeling this is one visit in a LONG line of visits he'll be making over the next 17 years.

On the plus side this didn't involve any visits to the ER or expulsion, so at least I've got that going for me.

Sometimes I'd Pay THEM to Let Me Be A Dad.

Actual conversation between Ciera and I about 10 minutes ago.

Me: "Ciera, you have GOT to throw those shoes away. They stink."

Ciera: "Dad, if you buy me new grey Toms I'll throw them away."

Me: "Better yet, let's mail them to "He who shall not be named", tell him to go to a ventless room, and then open them. We accomplish two things: We get rid of the shoes and we kill him in the process".

Ciera: "Daaad"! "You're such a creeper"!

Me: "I'm dead serious".

Ciera: "Stop! You're giving me a hemorrhoid"!

Me: "Huh"?

Ciera: "You know, what you get when old people like you get stressed".

Me: ::Rolling on the floor:: "You mean an ulcer"?

Ciera: "Yeah. What's a hemorrhoid?"

Sweet Holy Moses do I wish I could wear a video camera strapped to my head at all times.

Educating Trot

If you ever want to feel like half of you is banging your head against the wall while the other half is trying it's very best not to break out in a laughing fit that you're afraid won't ever stop?

Play a video game called "X Men Destiny" that has a character called "Gambit" with a 5 year old who has a mild speech impediment that causes him to replace his G's with D's and the unfortunate habit of dropping a B in the middle.

I sort of know how Anne Sullivan felt trying to get through to Helen Keller now.

Paging Michael Mann

Ever since I got HD last Monday there has been one burning question running through my mind.

If football games, ESPN, NFL Network and CSI: Miami look this good?

Can you imagine you THESE guys would have rocked the pastels in HD?

The mind boggles.

Would this face lie?

Today?

I got played. By an 8 year old boy who looks just like me and apparently has channeled me at the same age.

See, yesterday we kept Trot home from school due to some "intestinal distress", even though it turned out he probably just ate too much candy or found a piece of cheese from two months ago under his pillow and decided to not let it go to waste. So naturally Rakes woke up this morning complaining of stomach pain and sporting a face only seen before in "Raiders of the Lost Ark" when that German guy melted.

After several minutes of reasoning he got on the bus, looking like he wouldn't make it to the street alive. 2 1/2 hours later his teacher called telling me he'd thrown up in the toilet at school, conveniently flushing it before she could verify. (This particular trick I'd played on my own Mom 37 years ago and no, she didn't believe me either.)

Due to either complete stupidity or the thought that there was a TINY possibility he really WAS sick, I went and picked him up, only to have him attempt to show me what new trick he learned on his scooter immediately upon arriving home. Then, this supposed candidate for turning into the Exorcist, proceeded to eat his lunch we packed for him.

At 10:15 a.m.

He also played the Wii, got on the computer, told me 8 different jokes, and drew me three Pokemon pictures.

Needless to say, the little hypochondriac is going to school tomorrow.

Nirvana

Back in the summer, thanks to a 15 year old tube tv finally buying the farm, I bought my very first flat screen television, a 50" that I have formally named Gabby.

Then, for Christmas/Anniversary Ang and I bought the first new piece of furniture our living room has seen in 13 years; a wall unit for Gabby.

Something was missing, and yesterday that something arrived.

High Definition.

Sweet holy Moses, how have I gone this long without it?

If I can get past the fact my retina's feel like I've been looking straight into the sun for 2 days, by the time the 2012 MLB season gets here I'll be able to count the specks of dirt on Pedroia's jersey.

'Cause if "The Big Bang Theory" looks this good?

Fenway Park is gonna look like the Taj Mahal.

Copperfield, Eat Your Heart Out

This may be the one I send in to "Funniest Home Videos".

The look of absolute astonishment over one of the lamest tricks this side of "pick a card" and the "MAN!" after totally send it over the top.

Still Crazy After All These Years

I just found this video on Youtube, and I don't even remember Ciera taking it. My bemused expression at the end sort of says it all and the only thing that has changed is the way they look now, some two odd years later.

You Only Go Around Once

There's a reason why I go "eat" lunch with my three kids, surrounded by either screaming elementary schoolers or hormone raging middle schoolers with acne and bad attitudes. Why I take them fishing on my day off, even though I know I'm gonna untangle fishing line for 3/4 of the time and spend the other 1/4 trying and usually failing to keep my temper under control.

It's the same reason I buy them electric scooters, even though I know I'm tempting fate with a probable trip to the ER. It's why I play Wii with them when I'd rather watch tv, why I read the same book over and over and over again to the point I wonder if it's making me insane, and it's why I try to make every soccer game, field trip, class party and parent/teacher conference.

It's why I don't lose my ever loving mind every time Trot pees on the floor or send Rakes to military school for teaching Trot every bad word he picks up on the bus or put Ciera in school to be a nun (Happy, Rich?) for having the unmitigated gall to actually mention a boys name in my presence.

It's because in 25 years I don't want to look back and this song be the soundtrack of my life.

The Blind Leading The Blind

Jerry Jones announced yesterday, after an 8-8 season where the Dallas Cowboys woefully under performed YET AGAIN that he didn't need to turn over his General Manager duties to anyone with, you know ACTUAL FOOTBALL KNOWLEDGE.

That sound you heard?

 

Washington Redskin fans across the world rejoicing.

'Cause as long as this moron is running the Dallas Cowboys we are safe in the knowledge that no matter how awful the Redskins are?

The Cowboys won't win a Pine Wood Derby, much less a Super Bowl.

47 days until Pitchers and Catchers report.

Sweet Holy Moses that still seems like a LONG way away.

Other than turning 42? I'm Looking Forward To It.

2011 is in the books, and even though I had some dear friends who wish the entire year had never happened, it turned out pretty well for me.

My place of employment moved after being in the same location for 23 years, and while there were some minor speed bumps overall it has turned out to be a good move. My kids are all relatively healthy, not counting Trot and his magically disappearing hair. Ciera has her first "boyfriend" but thankfully it seems to be mostly texting and with me reading her Ipod daily, it's pretty tame.

Ang is still putting up with me (I only ask myself about twice a day why), I'm able to pay my bills on time, I finally got a flat screen television named Gabby, and I got to visit Boston again, with a side trip to Cape Cod which was number 77 on my Bucket List.

Yeah, the Red Sox sort of imploded and the Redskins remain stuck in a rut of mediocrity but I've got my family, my Amigos, and Gabby so I sort of broke even.

Sort of.

Here's to 2012 being even better.

For all of us.