Cinderalla Gone Haywire

Kids being kids is something we've gotten used to around here. Peeing in the plants, "forgetting" to wear underwear, tracing all the light switches in the house with a permanent marker and rubbing a whole tube of lipstick into the carpet are all things that we've dealt with over the years.

Tonight, as Ang tried to get the boys clothes together for school tomorrow she could only find one of Trot's shoes. According to her she looked everywhere she could think of, up to and including the refrigerator. (Don't laugh; I found the remote control for the tv in there about a year ago, right next to the cheese.)

After looking up and down all over the house she was finally ready to give up until she walked into the kids room where they play the Wii and watch movies. It was here she found the following:

There it is, on the top shelf of one of the bookcases sitting next to the television. I don't know if he threw it up there or climbed up there or if he even remembers how it got there.

When asked by his Mom WHY it was there?

He simply grinned and said "That's where I keep 'em, Mom".

Happy New Year

Fiscal cliffs, shootings, random chaos and the Red Sox playing like some demented version of The Bad News Bears.

Three healthy, funny, smart kids, a wife who I definitely hit the lotto on, a job I love and a handful of good friends I'd run through a wall for.

2012 is gone like the wind and 2013 is bringing me my 43rd birthday but that's OK.

I'm here, I'm still relatively sane, and Trot is only peeing the bed about once every two weeks so all in all?

Life's good.

Hopefully the new year will bring me a newfound enthusiasm for the blog and I'll post a little more than once every few weeks, but if not?

Life's still good.

If you stop by this little corner of the world I wish you nothing but a fantastic 2013 and health and happiness to you and yours.

Even if you're a Skanks fan.

And my only New Year's Resolution is this; to be a better Dad, Husband, and friend than I was in 2012.

They Followed A Star

Roughly 23 million light years away from the Milky Way Galaxy is the Whirlpool Galaxy. It was discovered in 1773 and some 230 years later some scientist somewhere decided to use the Hubbell Telescope and what he found, right in the middle of this galaxy, is this picture.

Of a cross.

Millions of light years away, made millions and millions of years ago.

Thanks to my Pastor, Darrell, for sharing this yesterday at church. It made me feel really small and really blessed, all at the same time.

Merry Christmas.

God Only Knows

I'm not even going to try and make sense of what happened in Connecticut today. How a human being can walk into a school and cold bloodily kill 20 innocent children, kids full of joy and happiness and not a mean bone in their entire body who had never done anything to anyone? As long as I'm alive I'll never understand it.

In the days to come I'm sure we'll read about this person being mentally ill or off his medication or whatever passes for an excuse these days. We'll hear from neighbors proclaiming shock they can't believe it or others saying they saw it coming. We'll hear from the pro-gun wackjobs and the equally wacky anti-gun contingent yelling about how it's a God given right to own a rocket launcher or how we need to ban all guns and all live in a commune together.

I honestly don't know the answer. I fully support an individual owning a weapon to protect his family or home but I really don't see the need for having machine guns, UZI's and anti-tank missiles for "personal protection". All I know is my heart is broken tonight; broken for 20 precious children who are dead for no reason, for 7 adults who spent their life educating young people, and for our country.

Like I said, I can't make any sense of what happened today and I'm sure I never will.

But I'm pretty sure when the founding fathers put in our constitution the right to bear arms, they never in a million years imagined something like today happening.

What I do know is this; when I go tuck my kids into bed tonight I'm gonna hug all three of them a little bit longer and harder than I normally do and I'm going to say a prayer for everyone affected by today's senseless tragedy.

And probably shed a tear or two.

'Cause other than that?

I have no idea what in God's name to do.

Working the Con

I'm eating lunch with Trot today and his poor, frazzled teacher comes up to me and asks "So, are you enjoying Hanukkah?"

After nearly choking on my water she explains to me that yesterday they were getting ready to read a book on Hanukkah and she asked the class if anyone was Jewish and Trot immediately raised his hand and yelled "I am!" Upon being confronted about whether this was true he sheepishly replied "No. But my Grandma is!"

I think it was the fact that there are 8 days of celebrating which means 8 days of presents that made my little nut job suddenly wish he was Jewish.

You can't say he isn't trying to play all the angles he possibly can.

Out-Beaning Mr. Bean

We watched "Bean: The Movie" with the kids tonight for our weekly movie and going into it you figured the biggest laugh was going to be the scene when Bean loses his watch in a Turkey he's stuffing and ends up with it on his head while he stumbles around the kitchen.

And it ALMOST was.

The funniest?

When Bean is stuffing the turkey with dressing, Rakes sits straight up on the couch, looks at me with eyes as big as 50 cent pieces, and says:

"Dad! Did he wash his hands before he started stuffing that turkey?"

Looks like the OCD didn't fall too far from the tree.

Poor kid.

A Voice of Reason in a Sea of Insanity. And no, it isn't me.

The past several months have been, well, an ever loving mess. We've been bombarded with tv ads, celebrity phone calls, Facebook posts and pictures, and mailing after mailing from the various political candidates. You couldn't watch the baseball playoffs or the World Series without seeing one commercial after another from everybody from Mitt Romney to Barack Obama to your local congressman to the guy running for Head of Portable Toilets.

In addition to all the media hype you couldn't go to work or out to eat or to the restroom eating out without basically getting into an argument with someone who just had to let you know what they thought about the President or Governor Romney. Quite frankly, it was starting to give me a splitting headache.

Now, depending on which camp you're in, you're either dancing on air or stockpiling guns, food, gas masks and roach motels. I don't quite know what the answer is, but my little tree hugging brother wrote a fantastic post about it all from a Christian perspective, and if you're a believer I happen to think that this is exactly the way you should be looking at this whole thing. And it doesn't really matter who you voted for.

You can read the entire post HERE, but this is the part that I really want people to hear.


"And beyond that, what does my reaction to the election say about my trust in Him?  How many of us throw out Romans 8:28 in every situation, except when it’s one that doesn’t go our way?  Has He ceased causing all things to work for the good of those that love Him and are called according to His purpose?  Or are we upset because what God purposes doesn’t always line up with what we desire?

Consider Paul’s words to Timothy:

“Therefore I exhort first of all that supplications, prayers, intercessions and giving of thanks be made for all men, for kings and all who are in authority, that we may lead a quiet and peaceable life in all godliness and reverence.  For this is good and acceptable in the sight of God our Savior, who desires all men to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth.  For there is one God and one Mediator between God and men, the Man Christ Jesus, who gave Himself a ransom for all.”  (I Tim. 2:1-6, NKJV)"

In short? Can everybody just chill out and live long and prosper?

Or something.

Is it Truck Day yet?

Am I My Brothers Keeper?

About 2 months ago Ang and I came up with an idea to keep Trot from wetting the bed. Very simply, it's me going upstairs around 10:30 every night and carrying his comatose body to the bathroom and getting him to pee, all the while hoping he doesn't decide to let go and hit me, the wall, or the floor before going in the toilet.

Tonight he took it to another level; after finishing his business he lets out a fart that would have been better than the bean eating scene from "Blazing Saddles" which causes me (Yes. I may be 42 physically but I'm actually 8 mentally) to bust out laughing.

As I'm trying to pick him up and carry him back to his room he mumbles "It wasn't me. It was Rakes" which only makes me laugh even harder. Before I can put him back into bed he says it again, which by this point I'm CRYING.

Even in the deepest hold of REM it is ingrained in him not to take the blame, and like a thousand times before when I ask "WHO DID THIS"? I get the always classic blame the other guy, no matter how definitive the evidence is.

You gotta love brotherly love.

Surprises are sometimes a good thing.

I had a parent/teacher conference with Trot's speech teacher today and for once? Got some good news. He's met all his goals she set but since we still have some concerns they are going to keep him in the program for a little while longer.

He's got some issues with reading and I sort of feel like the speech issue may be affecting the reading, even if the therapist doesn't agree. His regular teacher was also sitting in and during the course of the discussion I also mentioned that in addition to the speech and reading issues I was worried that the alopecia thing was maybe affecting him as well.

Don't get me wrong; he hardly EVER mentions it but I've gotta wonder how it is affecting him. In the course of all this, his teacher told me something that made me realize the future of our country may not be as bad as I imagine it to be.

When I mentioned the fact that he was bald and his Mom and I were worried about how he was handling it, she looked at me and said the following:

"Just in case you were wondering, he's got 20 friends who are militant about Trot AND his bald head. If anyone say's anything about it they let them know in a HURRY that it's not cool".

Being a parent is never easy and at times heart breaking.

Today reminded me that it's also the best job on earth.

The REAL Kung Fu Panda

4 for 4 with three consecutive home runs, 2 off the best pitcher alive today.

I think Pablo Sandoval was ready for the big stage.

Just another reason why I love this game and why those 6 months of winter seem like 6 years.

Catching up on nothing

A few people have asked me recently why I haven't posted anything in a while. Truth is there just hasn't been much to write about.

Trot has been on green at school for the last 3 weeks, which is either a minor miracle or one of the 7 signs of the Apocalypse. Rakes has been completely absorbed with soccer and some game called "Minecraft" and rarely makes sense in anything he's telling me.

Ciera's whirlwind romance with HIM lasted all of three weeks and so far all is quiet again on that front, which I've gotta admit makes me nervous. Sort of like the opening scene in "Saving Private Ryan" when they're on the boats and it's all calm but you KNOW when that gate drops all hell is gonna break loose.

On a baseball front the Sox were out of it by July; I was just too pigheaded to actually believe it. And the most exciting thing about them this off-season is they hired one of the least charismatic managers since Art Howe managed the A's. Who knows? Maybe Farrell will do a fantastic job and if nothing else Lester and Clay will appreciate the hire.

So I guess I haven't written much lately since there really hasn't been much to write about.

Imagine that: My life has actually been calm lately. Which has been nice.

But I've got a sinking feeling that it won't, or can't, last.

Trot will break this green streak in a blaze of glory by taking the Principle hostage with a paper clip and a bag of Teddy Grahams or Ciera will come home saying she likes some 6 ft 6 inch 300 pound right guard on the football team or Rakes will stop speaking English all together and start talking entirely in Pokemon'.

Which is ok too.

'Cause quiet is really sort of boring the crap out of me.

Life comes at you fast.

After I put Trot to bed tonight I went in Rakes room to say goodnight and asked if his Mom said prayers with him.

"Yes. No. I think it's yes. I'm not sure, Dad. Just to be sure can you say them again?"

Ciera, who normally rides to school with a girl down the street rode the bus because she wanted to talk with a couple of friends she hasn't gotten to hang out with in a while. About 1 I get a text from her saying the girl she rides with totaled her car on the way in, with a car running a stoplight and broad siding her on the passenger side.

I saw pictures and the side of the car Ciera normally sits on was pushed all the way to the drivers side.

So, yeah Rakes.

I'll say them again with you.

Just to be sure.

I Hate High School.

So, pretty much the thing I dreaded most about Ciera going to High School has happened, and they've only been in school a little over a month.

She's "dating".

A Jr of all things.

Now, she can't REALLY "date" until she's 16 which makes it somewhat easier. And I've already gotten her to utter "Dad, you are RUINING my social life" at least 3 times so I've got that going for me. And all in all she's a pretty good kid.

But I still don't like it.

On the plus side I told her that if her and this punk want to "date" he's gotta come over and talk to me. ASAP.

Which means at the very least I get to make some kid extremely uncomfortable as I let him know exactly what I'm gonna do to him if he hurts my little girl.

It won't make it go away.

But at least it'll make it a little bit better.

From the Desk of Trot

I should have known something was up when I took this picture right around the time he was two. Look at him; food all over his face, grinning like a maniac, and squeezing food in his hand like he's straight out of the Congo.

Yesterday Trot came home from school and proceeded to tell his Mom, after she asked him what he did at school that day, and I quote:

"We made a soccer ball out of wood and kicked it around the room, then made a football out of flowers and threw it to each other outside, then we played tag."

When Ang called his bluff and said she would call his teacher he responded with the following.

"OK. We DIDN'T do that. I just wish that was what we did".

Maybe he'll be a fiction writer.

Or a politician.

A New World Order

14 years ago High School was the farthest thing from my mind as I held a beautiful baby girl. I thought about her first words and steps and wondered what she'd think of me when she figured out who in the world I was.

The next several years sped by filled with pushing her in a swing, teaching her how to ride a bike, reading countless books to her whenever I could, and generally spoiling her rotten. Then, all of a sudden, we were in Kindergarten and I thought "plenty of time until she grows up" and then somehow we were in 3rd grade, then   Middle School and like some demented ostrich I kept my head buried in the sand and pretended High School would never get here.

And now it's here. She's this grown up thing with attitude to burn and she's hit the ground running with band, football games, Honor's classes and her need for me consists of giving her money and driving her from place to place. And I realize that my little girl that I've known all these years is no more.

But, and she'll kill me for saying this, every night when she's ready to go to sleep she comes out of her room at the top of the stairs and says "I'm ready for bed, Dad."

And just like I've done almost every night since she was born, I kneel down next to her bed, hold her hands, and say her goodnight prayers together.

Really hope she doesn't grow out of that anytime soon.

Re-Set

Fantasy baseball.

The only place I've ever seen a trade like this made, yet it happened in real life as Beckett, Crawford, Gonzo, and for some weird reason Nick Punto all get traded to the Dodgers for James Loney and some prospects (some of which are reported to be pretty good).

I get that it needed to happen; Beckett wore out his welcome about 2 years ago and even though I've always  liked the guy and probably always will? I get why people are glad he's gone; I'm a fan, but I'm not stupid.

Crawford never got out of the starting blocks with Boston due to injuries and general bad luck, and I hope a move to the West Coast (where he probably wishes he'd gone when the Angels came calling anyway) will do him a world of good.

It's Gonzo I'm really going to miss; a guy in his prime with the sweetest swing since Ted Williams and he played First like he owned it. He's going to mash for the next few years until, like all of us, Father Time finally catches up and he becomes a mere mortal.

Gonna be interesting to see what management does or doesn't do with all that extra money they suddenly have.

One thing you can say for sure; it's never boring in Red Sox Nation.

Mr. Monk? Meet Rakes.

Do to the sheer weight of Trot-isms that have been coming fast and furious lately I'd forgotten about one Rakes story that happened the day we were leaving for vacation.

I gotta preface this by saying I'm a bit of a germophobe; BIG believer in washing hands, not touching the inside doorknob in a public bathroom, not touching a pay phone no matter what the emergency could be, etc..... and I sometimes forget kids see EVERYTHING.

As we left out that morning for the beach Ang had to stop at her hairdressers to pick up something vital. I have no idea what it was, only that there was no way on earth we could go to the beach without it and apparently this product isn't found in ANY store, mall, gas station, or Wal-Mart in America. So we went.

Mind you, we've been in the car a total of 10 minutes so far, and even though I made everyone go to the bathroom BEFORE we left the house, of course they all had to pee when we get there. After Ang and Ciera and Trot go, I send Rakes to one and I use the other. (I didn't have to go, but there was no way I was stopping for ME when I knew we had at least another 23 more we'd have to make before getting to the beach).

As I leave the room there is nobody there; no sign of anyone. So I call Rakes' name and get a THUMP, THUMP, THUMP coming from his door and him calling "In here, Dad". I open the door and there he is, standing like Hawkeye Pierce right after he'd scrubbed for surgery and before Hot Lips put on his surgical gloves. With great big eyes he say's "I didn't want to touch the handle and they don't have any towels. I just figured I'd wait on you to come and find me".

Dear Lord what have I done to him?

He did it again.

Another day, another Trot story.

At lunch time today Ang was in our room while Trot was supposedly eating lunch, but when she came out of our room his food was at the table but he wasn't. When she called out his name, Rakes came walking out of the playroom carrying a pint of ice cream and a serving spoon stating "he's been in here eating this".

Mind you, we have told them both about a million times apiece that we are NOT eating outside the kitchen, so by the time Trot came moseying in from the bathroom Ang was about to hit the roof. It was at this point the following conversation took place.

Ang: "Trot, why are you disobeying us when we've told you time after time not to eat outside the kitchen?"

Trot: "I don't know."

Ang: "Didn't you ask Jesus into your heart?"

Trot: "Yes."

Ang: "And didn't you just get baptized?"

Trot: "Yes."

Ang: "So why aren't you listening to him talking to you and telling you to do the right thing?"

Trot: "Mom. I can't HEAR Jesus. The television is too loud".

If he doesn't become President one day he's gonna make a fine Congressman at the very least.

Seriously. One Day I'm Writing a Book.

Trot had a buddy come over around lunch today to swim and spend the night; sort of a send off to summer since he's headed back to school in a few weeks.

This friend of his goes to church with us and his Dad is a Deacon and member of the choir, so of course something Trot-esque was bound to occur.

It didn't take 5 minutes.

As Ang is talking to his Mom, Rakes is asking if he can watch violent movies and wondering what video games they have need to be put up for the night while Ang is turning what I imagine to be a vivid red. (Thankfully I'm at work while all this is going on). As they are explaining to Trot's buddy and his Mom what video games they CAN play, the following takes place.

Rakes: "We have the game Doodlebob, but Trot can't play it because he can't spell".

Trot: "Yes I can"!

Rakes: "No you can't"!

Trot: "Yes I can! I can spell ass! A.S.S."!

I've got a sinking feeling we aren't getting a Christmas card this year.

Vacations. They're not just for Clark Griswold.

I spent the past week in Myrtle Beach for our annual vacation, which is typically a lot of fun mixed in with a few doses of stress and a shot of blind fear. Without further ado, the top 5 Trot moments of Beachapalooza 2012.

1. Upon meeting a couple of college kids in the pool, Trot asks where they're from. Turns out it was Durham, NC whereupon Trot responds "I'm from Durham too. But now I live here".

2. Every 10 minutes he would barge into the ping pong room, look around, and yell at the top of his lungs "I got winner!"

3. At my urging he walks up to the hostess at Olive Garden and say's "Hey baby. Can we get a table?" Not 3 seconds later our buzzer beeps alerting us our table is ready. He now thinks this will get us a table anywhere we go at a moments notice. Trot: The Hostess Whisperer.

4. As I'm carrying him up the beach he grabs my neck and say's "You're my favorite Dad, Dad."

5. On the drive home the kids are watching the first "Star Wars" and one of the Empire big wigs utters the line "We will CRUSH the Rebel Alliance" which I immediately start repeating. Trot, sitting in the back seat playing his DS then utters "We're eatin' fish tonight!" in his best Bruce the shark voice from the movie "Finding Nemo".

Yep. That's my boy.