For Spenser With An "S"

I can't remember when I first wondered into that bookstore and picked up my first copy, but if asked I could describe the worn out cover. The blue-green paper with white creases created by others who had traveled its pages before me. That copy of Taming A Seahorse I was holding would be my first introduction to my eventual favorite author Robert B. Parker. I was about to take a master class in how to write a detective novel. I had heard about the character of Spenser from his For Hire series. Robert Urich played him on TV and forever in my mind became the image and voice of the character. I read a couple. Then maybe one or two more. Searching the local library and bookstores for anything I could get my hands on from Parker. Then I discovered Early Autumn. To this day I am in awe whenever I see a copy tossed aside at a yard sale or flea market. The story is one involving a bitter divorce, an angry vengeful father, and of course Spenser making the touch choices the everyone refuses to take responsibility for. The father kidnaps the son, the mother hires Spenser to get him back, but nobody stops to consider what is best for the child not even the confused boy himself...that is until Spenser decides it's time to teach the boy about what it means to be a man.

With the help of his best friend Hawk, true love Susan, and Pearl his beloved dog, Spenser routinely set aside money, fame, love, and his own life to do what was right. Sometimes he did it for revenge, sometimes for honor, sometimes it was simply personal. Every case haunted him and every decision tore at his soul for years to come. This week Robert B. Parker left this world doing what he loved to do more than anything in life....at his desk in the middle of writing the latest Spenser novel. In total Parker wrote over 75 books a good majority of which featured Spenser. While my life has changed several times over the past 30 years one thing has never changed, twice I year I go running to the book store desperate to get a copy of his latest novel. Something that will only happen a few more times as the last of his previously written books are released. I don't know if I have ever walked into a bookstore and not stopped to see which of his books they had. Though the man and his work have been put to rest, I know I'll never forget them. Thank you Mr. Parker. You taught me how to read.

A Birthdate For All The Little Feet

March 12 will be a special day for the Blockhead clan as it's the day we have picked to welcome Alexander Brock Beck into this world. Since Mandy is having a C-Section we were able to be a little flexible about when the big day was going to take place. The original date was going to be the 19th, but Adam's B-day is the 20th so we pleaded with the Doc to have a week in between. This day is also special because if what I am being told is correct it will also be the day that Little Foot arrives.

I've neglected to mention him here yet, but Little Foot has been around since the first of November. He came into existence when out of frustration for Adam's complete dislike for his little brother's first name (he tended to scream "I don't like that name!" whenever he heard it) I decided to have a little talk with Mr. Too Big For His Britches. Some talks can be put off till the time is right say maybe in the bedroom before lights out. Some talks like this one just have to happen in middle of church in a classroom off to the side while everyone is praying in the other rooom. Anyway there I am trying to explain how Adam can't keep screaming he hates the name Alex because it is starting to make his Mommy cry, when I get the idea that Alex can have a nickname and Adam can pick it. "I can even call him Little Foot, Daddy?" "Yes you can even call him Little Foot."

I don't know how it happened, but somewhere between walking out one room and into the other Little Foot went from being the nickname of his little brother to the name of the baby Adam was keeping in his belly. You can only imagine the look I got from Mandy as her 3 yr-old whispered in church "It's okay Mommy I like the name Alex....and I've got Little Foot in my belly too!" For weeks afterward whenever someone would tell Adam that they'd heard the good news he responded "Thanks! It's name is Little Foot and he lives in my belly" all the while patting his pooched out tummy. Soon Little Foot quickly became a reason for second bowls of ice-cream (he ate the first one and Adam didn't get any) and an extra hour of T.V (Little Foot prefers Scooby Doo while Adam wants to watch Cars).

We thought the end of Little Foot was in sight when Adam proclaimed that on Christmas Day, Little Foot would be coming out of his belly once and for all. When the big day past with no dinosaur to show, we couldn't help but wonder aloud "Where is Little Foot? I thought he was coming out of your belly on Christmas?" That's when with those eyebrows furloughed and hands palms up at his side, Adam perfected his new talent for sarcasm "Well is Alex here yet?" "No" we answered. " Than Little Foot's not coming out either"

With this we can only presume that with the birth of Baby # 2 there will be a second birth...the birth of a dinosaur that lives in the belly of Adam Beck....otherwise known as Little Foot.

What Are Little Boys Made Of?

I don't know how much stock I put into the idea that each person has their own spirit animal. According to one site ancient Shamans believe "that everyone has power animals - animal spirits which reside with each individual adding to their power and protecting them from illness, acting similarly to a guardian angel. Each power animal that you have increases your power so that illnesses or negative energy cannot enter your body. The spirit also lends you the wisdom of its kind. A hawk spirit will give you hawk wisdom, and lend you some of the attributes of hawk."

When we got ready to decorate Adam's room we decided on frogs for some reason. Frog blankets. Stuffed animal frogs. Foam frogs stuck with Velcro tape to his walls. It was the perfect animal for our first tadpole. In doing some research I've found that the Frog represents a reminder of common bonds with all of life, a rebirth, a transformation. Frogs are singers of old songs. In some ways this is dead on because my life completely transformed when he was born. Plus everyday he seems like a different person.

For Alex we have settled on Elephants. Don't ask us why, but we are already stocking up on Elephant lamps, bed spreads, wall paintings. Elephants represent strength, royalty, connection to ancient wisdom, confidence, and patience. Obviously it's too early to tell if this is correct, but I sure hope he gets some patience. It would be nice if somebody in this family had some.

I took a quiz to find what my Spirit Animal was and it turns out I'm a Tiger! Apparently I am REACTIVE. Impetuous and strong, I follow my instincts. If a problem arises, my reactions are swift and decisive. I live by my intuition, and can sense things that may not be so obvious. I can be counted on in an emergency, but not necessarily in a delicate or complex situation. Sounds about right to me.

Born To Be A Gleek

Music runs in our family. Mandy and I have a tremendously large CD collection and my iPOD is one of my most valued possesions. The first 9 months of Adam's life were filled with nights of me rocking him to sleep singing the latest Top 40 hits. He even got a guitar for Christmas and played me the Devil Gets In Trouble this afternoon. Few people know that I have an uncle that is a Grammy winning Christian song writer. If what we've seen the past few months is any indication, Alex may just come out dancing and wanting an MP3 player of his own. Everytime the music starts, it's as if a night club has opened up in Mandy's tummy.

This brings me to Glee the hugely popular Fox show about a group of highschool rejects all connected by their love of music through Glee Club. Each episode features 4-5 remakes which regularly reach #1 on Itunes the day after they are aired. A couple of CD's have been put out (which we own both of), the first 13 eps hit the stands last week (picked that up too), and there are plans for a concert next summer. One thing that makes this show so special to us is that whenever Alex hears a song from the soundtrack he goes crazy! Recently Mandy has even gone as far as listening to all that Groove Shark has to offer for us Glee fanactics or Gleeks as we are called.

Blockhead Family Secrets Revealed!!!!

Since most of my readers are local you have probably heard the news by now that we have settled on a name for our upcoming (only 8-10 weeks to go) baby boy and the winner is Alexander Brock Beck. The middle name is after my brother, but the first name we came up with on our own and simply liked the sound of it. Now I could go on and on about how Xander may be a possible nickname (after the sidekick from Buffy The Vampire Slayer which I own every episode of) or how the name Lex has been tossed around (a nod to the classic Superman villain), but I don't want Mandy to rethink it so I'm not going there yet. Oh and in case you are keeping track I'm officially pulling off the mask with this second post of the decade.

While I will no doubt refer to myself as Charlie Blockhead more times than not in the future, fake names feel so Aught Two Thousand. This decade already seems to be going by so fast as if it was shot out of a cannon, who has time to remember what they called everyone 355 posts ago.

For those keeping score at home the Cast of Characters include:

Charlie Blockhead = Bill Beck

Lucy Blockhead = Mandy Beck

Fred Blockhead = Adam Frederick Beck

&

Introducing our latest Blockhead in the making.....

Alexander Brock Beck

I was fortunate to have several days off during the holidays and with the time came a chance to do something I've been meaning to do since the end of year one, specifically make a hard copy of everything I've posted here. In doing so I realised a couple things 1)The frequency of my posts drastically dropped this year. Before '09' I was averaging 100 post a year for the past 3 years. In '09' that was cut in half. Some of that was because I changed jobs and since I can come home for lunch I don't have an hour to kill in the middle of everyday. At first I thought it was that my freelance work got in the way, but like everything else in this horrible economy that too just about became extinct. If I had to say what happened and I feel I do, I think the answer would be that I was able to spend more time than ever with 3 yr-old Adam and pregnant Mandy. Consequently with that came some writers block due to feeling like every time I sat in front of the keyboard I had to try to cram all the fun into one giant post. 2) I haven't talked nearly enough about how much I am looking forward to being a dad the second time over and all the new challenges having two kids will bring. I love what I have created here and plan to continue to write until they take my keyboard away. The solution I've come up with is lowering the size of my posts while also increasing their frequency. Similar to what I did yesterday and obviously not what I'm doing today.

Now that I have exposed every one's secret identity as well as shed some guilt I've been carrying I want to leave with a funny thing that is happening more and more as we approach the due date (March 19th). Growing up my mom always had trouble talking to us kids when she got flustered because our names both started with the same letter. The result was that to this day I am known as Brock-Bill and my bother is of course Bill-Brock. Well if you believe that history repeats it self you may find it amusing to know that I have recently been caught calling Adam Alem and have even done the reverse by referring to Alex as Adex.

I know....somewhere there is a psychiatrist's couch with my name on it.

Feeding The Beast

What I need to be writing about is the new baby that is due by March 19th. I should be posting about Christmas and New Year's adventures that were had. I've got a ton of pics that I need to put up. A thousand funny stories that need to be jotted down....but as is the case the majority of time in order to get to the good stuff I gotta clean out all the junk that is getting in the way.




Today's junk is brought to you by all that crap they stuff into the vending machines at work, specifically the Boston Cream Honey Bun. Why is that I can be home for 4 days and barely eat anything, but the moment you sit me behind a desk my stomach starts growling? I'm like Pavlov's dog drooling the moment my rear end touches leather office chair. If I was at home my first meal wouldn't even happen till 11, but at the office I'm hungry by 10 and that's only 3 hours after I've eaten breakfast....is it any wonder I'm ready for Fred to learn how to tie his shoes so he can get mine since I can't seem to bend over anymore?

Just Another Piece Of Shrapnel

It was a shock to us all when it happened. Now over a year later the reality of the decision is still hitting some hard. Namely myself. I wish I could say I can't imagine what that family went through. Being pulled apart from the inside. Like so many of us however I've been there and done that as they say. The questions never go away. An air of mystery will always surround those involved like the smell of burnt leaves off in the distance. Each wondering if they know the whole truth of how it all went down. The real reasons why divorce was the only option left to take.

It's only natural based on my own personal history as a child of divorce that my first instinct is for the little girl. The entire geography of her existence being ransacked as if someone had broken in overnight and stole those items that mattered the most to her. And essentially isn't that exactly what did happen? Her home was sold, her family cut in half, daily routine shattered. Weekdays with Mom. Weekends with Dad. Who gets her for Christmas this year?

Not once did I think of him in terms other than "How could he do that to her...to them? I guess I didn't know him after all" Best Friend is such a juvenile term. Fred throws it out like a prize at the county fair. Only bestowing it upon those who have earned a special place in his heart no matter how fleeting it may be. Thirty-four year old men don't have best friends do we? We have buddies, the gang, the guys. Still I guess that's what he was...my best friend. After he dropped the bomb everything he knew laid around in him in ruin. Friends like myself were left stunned by the announcement. I never even heard his side. One weekend we were playing golf and the next thing I knew a year had gone by since we had spoken.

Last week we bumped into each other at the Christmas parade. I tried to avoid him, but he pushed the issue by coming up to talk. Good for him. It should have been me that asked how he was doing. Inquiring how he was making it now that things were final. Instead I just responded stone faced answering with phrases like "Same old same old" and "Tell me about it." Letting Lucy carry the awkward conversation. I did manage to say "Merry Christmas". Even as I said it though I began to wonder what his new life was like and how bad things must have been towards the end. Trying to imagine what the final straw was that made him think that there was no repairing his broken home; all the while understanding that once the ink hit the page no one would ever be the same. All my life I have been the victim of divorce, my relationships, my personality, my likes and dislikes, a consequence of divorce....but never the proliferator. It wasn't me who pulled the trigger, I'm just one of the many that got hit by the shrapnel.

When I see my friend again I'm going to do my best to let him know that although I don't agree with what he did, I do hope he's in a better place than he was. That he has my forgiveness. It may not mean much to anyone else, but at least I'll know that I tried to be fair. That I attempted to look past the pain he caused and into the root of why he did it. That if ever he needed someone to lean on, he could still call me friend.

Missing The Big Event

It was all anyone could talk about at work. "Go Gators!!" "Roll Tide Roll!!" "Come on over Saturday we'll be serving gator meat during halftime." At church our preacher worked it into his sermon Wednesday night. The clerk at the Piggly Wiggly asked me if I knew what time it would start. Every wife in town was wondering what they would do with the kids while daddy disappeared for 4 hours on a Saturday afternoon. During a stop for a routine headlight change my mechanic Ken couldn't help but notice my red sweatshirt which just happened to be the color of the Mighty Alabama Crimson Tide. We spent twenty minutes talking about Bama's chances against the Florida Gators. Not only was that afternoon's game a rematch of last year's for the SEC Championship, but both teams were again undefeated guaranteeing a game that would be talked about for years to come.....and I was going to miss it.

After finding out that Lucy and I would be taking Fred to the annual Toy Land play which was scheduled to begin the exact same moment as kickoff, a friend left this on Lucy's Facebook page "I'm just curious how you get Bill to do these things and miss football? Ted does not do anything that will interfere with football so guess where we will be today at 3:00????" The answer of course isn't an easy one because for starters how do you respond without speaking against Ted? Another thing that got me was the first thing my machismo did was take offense to the thought that somehow I had been tricked by Lucy to spend time with my family. Needless to say my first comments to this particular Facebook message were deleted before they ever reached the home page. What I didn't say......what I wanted to say was this:

"Please understand that in no way am I trying to speak against Ted. He seems like a great guy, a good man, and a fine father. I don't know what his schedule is like or what issues he may be facing. That being said what I do know is that last Friday I watched the Alabama/Auburn game. Saturday night I watched three games at one time. Flipping between LSU/Arkansas, Tennessee/Kentucky, and some other game that I can't even remember. Sunday I caught the Colts Vs Ravens. Monday night the Patriots faced off against the Saints. Thursday night it was Oregon and Oregon St. Friday night I watched the last half of Ohio and Michigan St. Before Toy Land starts Cincinnati/Pitt will be on and afterward Texas/Nebraska. Sunday night the undefeated Colts play the Titans who are on a hot streak. Given I didn't watch all of these from start to finish, but I did see a majority of each. I don't know if Ted saw all or any of these. I'm not a baseball fan. I don't like basketball. I play a little golf every now and then. What I like is football and while it's in season Lucy is willing to move things around so that I can catch the big games. For me though this weekend's big event doesn't involve the gridiron. It's seeing Fred's face when Darth Vader sits down next to him like he did two years ago. Or when Spiderman swings from the rafters just in time to save Dora from Cruella de Vil like last year. Hearing the cheers when Elmo and Big Bird come skating across the stage causing Tom to slam into Jerry. Sure the game will be on, but I'll catch the one tonight and maybe the one tomorrow. This afternoon though, at least for me the Big Event is being where my son is."

Christmas Tree Tetris

When you are single putting up the Christmas Tree isn't a problem, because honestly there's really no need for one. I never had a tree during my bachelor days and if ever I was missing the Christmas spirit I would simply go visit my parents. Within minutes I'd be reminded of the "joys" of the holidays thanks to some well placed snide remarks from my stepfather and in moments I'd be on my way enjoying my freedom feeling thankful all the while. Once I got married putting up the tree may have not been the most fun experience in the world, it quickly began to take on new meaning as a series of first ornaments began to be collected.

One from our honeymoon (we were married at Christmas time), one with the anniversary of our first date engraved on it, several others representing various favorite childhood characters. The next thing you know we had to have two trees. The white lit silver tree with the shiny ornaments and glitter covered icicles that faces the street for all the world to see....and the "tacky" tree covered in a million blinking colored lights and along with every ornament from E.T to the Tasmanian Devil. This one of course is every one's favorite because though it may not shine and sparkle like the one facing the street, it's covered with the most memories and mementos of our childhood. Then suddenly you have kids and trimming the tree takes on a whole new meaning.

When a child looks at a Christmas tree they don't see memories of times gone by, they see a thousand toys just begging to be touched. And as you know what goes up must come down. Never was this saying more true than when putting up a Christmas tree in a house filled with wild children. Quickly every parent realizes that every year one ornament must be sacrificed so that the child can feel the quilt of breaking their mother's favorite piece thus stopping all further contact with the tree for that year . We also learn that when it comes to decorating it's all about product placement. Height Plus Heart Equals Happiness. What this means is that instead of scattering ornaments around the tree at random where they can be picked off by any toddler that decides to crawl by, the tree needs to be decorated by importance from top to bottom. Remember that kitty cat your mom gave you as a housewarming gift? Top of the tree. How about that plastic Humpty-Dumpty sitting on a wall? Bottom of the tree. That Miss Piggy ornament your wife has had since she was three? Top of the tree. The light bulb penguin your grandma gave you last Christmas instead of the Ipod you wanted? Bottom of the tree.

First time parents need only look around their house at all the things that are kept on shelves, mantles, and in the top of cabinets to understand that when it comes to kids out of reach is always the best bet when talking keepsakes. The Christmas tree while it may seem like a beautiful work of art that only a Grinch would want to destroy, is actually an open invitation for chaos that your child just can't help but RSVP to. In order to defeat the foe that is grabby hands, remember to attack them at their weakness....they are only 2 1/2 feet tall.

Sick Thoughts

"Don't worry Daddy, I will take care of you", that's when I knew things had really gotten as bad as I felt they were. Any parent will tell you that raising a child requires a dose of patience, a pinch of luck, and a heap of will power. No parent is perfect and no child is a cookie cutter copy of another. If you don't believe me just take a peek at the Self-help section at your local bookstore and you'll see a plethora of How-To's dedicated to the topic of figuring out how to keep some type of sanity while living in the asylum. Being a dad is tough enough when things are going good, when you get sick sometimes will power is all you've got. Thank God for Mommies. I can't imagine what things would be like if I didn't have somebody to pick up this week when I'm obviously falling behind.

Nobody wants their child to be sick, but at least when it happens Mommy and Daddy can still keep the ship on course. Everything from work to laundry to sleep is put aside at a moment's notice so that all efforts can be focused on getting junior well again. When the coin flip lands on the wrong side and it's the parents that get sacked with a case of the downers, that's when a parent's job really begins. Like zombies with some Mystical Being forcing every step and lurch, we are bent on making sure our little ones are not affected or infected by our misfortune. Wearing surgical masks and sweat pants, baseball caps and our comfy jacket, soccer games are still witnessed, homework is still assisted, and birthday parties are still orchestrated. Leaving us crumpled up in a heap afterward as our family is put to bed with smiles on their faces.

Even as I write this I can't help but stare at the clock and count the hours left until the school bell rings in the beginning of the second shift. My head trying to do complex calculations revolving around how many hours have passed since I last took my cough medicine and can another dose be had before I'm on duty again. Worrying all the while that I've done what the doc insists can't be done by passing this plague on to the rest of my brood. Simultaneously planning dinner and staving off nausea as I lay the ground chuck out to defrost. It's not about me though. What keeps me going...what keeps every sick parent motivated when they feel their worst, is the feeling we get from knowing that their family is safe and taken care of. And honestly that may be better medicine than anything the doctor can prescribe.

To Kill A Fly

There's probably more than a thousand ways to kill a fly. If you really think about it I'd guess you'd agree that the possibilities are limitless when it comes getting rid of the pesky things. All that buzzing around your face, constantly trying to land on your head. At first you try to ignore them. Eventually when swatting them away with your hand isn't enough you begin to look for the heavy artillery. A rolled up newspaper. A fly-swatter. A shoe. A paperback book. I've seen some self proclaimed animal lovers catch the fly in a mid-air, open a nearby door, and release the bug just so it can swoop back inside before the door even closes.

As I said for those with a vivid imagination the ways to end the misery brought on by these flying pests could very well be infinite. Today it seems that Fred may have found his own unique way of taking care of the common house fly. All it requires is a full bladder and the ability to hula. Of course it helps to have a momma as nice as the one he has to come behind and wipe up all the pee off the walls, floor, and ceiling, but it's been several hours now and the fly is yet to make a repeat appearance.

Grand Education

This past week a buddy of mine was telling me about the great lengths his father is going to so that his little boy knows how much he loves him. Recently Grandpa moved away because of work and apparently the little guy figured out a creative way to keep in touch. It seems that every couple of weeks the grandson has been writing messages on tiny scraps of paper, rolling them up, and placing them in bottles. Whenever his mom is out he asks to make a special stop so that he can toss the bottle into the nearby river. His reasoning was that since he lived by a river and his grandpa also lived by a river, that eventually the message would make it's way to his favorite pal. Now knowing that water never travels upstream, every time Grandpa paid a visit he made sure to bring back an empty bottle similar to the original. According to my friend's dad the way he saw it was that though he may not know the exact words used....the message was loud and clear.

When I heard this I couldn't help but think of my two grandfathers and how they each have shown their love to me time and time again. Whether it was teaching me how to build the perfect ramp for my matchbox cars, or showing me just the right way to shoot a jump shot, or crawling under that old rusted up car and teaching me the joys of fixing a car with your own two hands; they've always made time for me. And while I've learned a lot I think the most important lesson learned was that family time isn't just watching a movie together or playing some random board game, it also means incorporating your children and grandchildren into your daily routine.

This past weekend the sun was out, the sky was clear, and there were leaves all over my yard. It looked like my Saturday would at least for the most part involve a rake in my hand. As I was making my way up and down the yard getting my path made towards the curb, I looked up and saw my son staring from the screen door. It was then that I thought about all those bottles floating down the river filled with tiny scraps of paper and decided I could use a hand. It may have taken longer and we may have left a few scattered about, but those leaves got done eventually and who knows maybe Fred learned a few things too.

Sick Thoughts

Lucy is sick today and Fred is coming off a case of bronchitis. He's at home on Tuesdays and Thursdays so I took a vacation day to make sure she gets better and he stays that way. In between washing a couple loads of clothes, cooking dinner, and 8 episodes of Scooby Doo; I had time to think about things.

1. If you start a book in the Summer and you're still reading it in November....is it still considered a Summer read? Am I wrong to want to put it down until the weather changes again?


2. Do I really like Curb Your Enthusiasm or do I just like seeing Jerry Seinfeld every week again?


3. If you break a light bulb how many years of bad light bulb luck do you get? A month ago I dropped one while digging through the laundry room. Since then I've replaced the hall light twice, the patio light, the light over the stove, and a couple lamps. Yesterday the tail light in my car went out. I've had that car three years and never a problem. This is the second bulb since Sept. Do I have seven years of this to look forward to?


4. How come 3 yr-olds think the word TOOT is so funny? They use it so much it's like I've got a tiny Toot Smurf running around the house. "Dad I want some iced toot to drink!" "I'm toot. Can you bring my pillow so I can go to toot?" "The suns out! Can I go play in the back-toot?"


5. How many more loads of laundry am I going to wash before I mess something up of my wife's? Not that I want to mess anything up. It's just not my thing and as careful as I'm trying to be I just know a tragic event is coming.


6. I think I'm addicted to tiny boxes of Nerds. I'm thinking about filling my briefcase up with them and hauling a pound of them off to work. Is there a support group for Nerds addiction?


7. Is anybody reading my posts at Daddy Outpost? I can't track the stats, so I need comments.

Board Out Of My Mind!!

Like most parents before Santa decides on what toys are delivered a debate is held to see just what toys Jr. is ready for and which ones may be over his, her, or our heads. As much of a no-brainer as this may seem (after all a toddler isn't ready for a dirt bike) it's actually a task that requires a lot of thought. Every board game, doll house, and Lego set comes with a suggest age range that the toy is geared towards. The key word here is range as in the youngest age that should understand how the product works to the oldest age that shouldn't look at you like you are mentally challenged because you just bought a 10 yr old a pack of Play-doh. This is why it's important to know where your child is developmentally so that Santa doesn't waste his time making toys that your kids have already grown out of. One thing to remember is that they can always age up, but they will never age down.

Just this week we opened up Chutes and Ladders for the first time. This the same game of Chutes and Ladders that sat neatly wrapped under our tree around this time a year ago. In our defense we knew that at almost three years old son Fred wasn't quite there, but the idea was that we'd start stocking up on classic games that he would be ready to play as the year went on. Candy Land, Memory, Hi-Ho Cherry-O, and Elefun also got delivered last Christmas. Several of these were a huge hit right off the bat..... others have mysteriously disappeared. The games aren't missing because Fred wasn't old enough or smart enough to play, but more so because he doesn't feel the need to comply with some unknown persons idea of how he should play the game that was given to him.

As I mentioned this week I got the idea that a good ole round of Chutes and Ladders would be the perfect way to spend a Tuesday night. For those who have forgotten the basics; you get a board with 100 squares, a spinner, and 4 characters. Ladders take you up, Chutes bring you down, and 3 yr olds don't care about anything else other than this. A typical game may take you 15 minutes. Our game lasted 45. It could have gone on all night, but after putting up with Fred switching characters three times, constantly taking turns that weren't his, riding every chute and ladder regardless of what square he was on, and attempting to play the game upside-down while hanging off the edge of the couch....his mother and I finally admitted defeat.

The lesson to be learned of course is that when consulting with Santa on what would make the perfect Christmas gift it's important to also remember that regardless of what is given, everyone including Mom and Dad should be old enough and be prepared to be patient enough to play with it.

Will The Swine Flu Turn You Into A Grinch This Christmas?

Now that we are past Halloween it's just a matter of weeks before the real festivities start ala Thanksgiving and Christmas. In a typical year people would already be planning out their menus, making reservations to attend the countless string of office parties, and anxiously awaiting all the time that will be spent with family members from all over the country. Unfortunately this really isn't what you would call a typical year is it? As sad as it may seem Swine Flu hysteria has taken over the country and even those that didn't give a thought to canceling Halloween are now contemplating alternate means of ringing in the New Year.

According to the New York Times "In offices, churches, hospitals, college dorms and schools — and even at yoga classes and in apple orchards — the fear of swine flu is turning age-old rituals on their head. What used to be O.K. is not anymore, as the flu has ushered in new standards of etiquette that can be, in turns, mundane, absurd and heartbreaking." As the dad of a 3 1/2 year-old and the husband of very pregnant wife, I can say that anytime my family goes out in the public the thought of canceling because of the swine flu enters my mind. I know some will accuse me of overreacting, but as they say better safe than sorry right? Yes it means we may miss the occasional birthday party or church service, but the way I look at it is that since I obviously can't trust others who are sick to stay home than the responsibility falls onto myself to ensure my family is not exposed.

When it comes to the Swine Flu how far is too far? Certainly we shouldn't cancel Thanksgiving and even Santa himself couldn't stop the retail stores from ushering in Christmas. Still though I'm not so sure I won't be doing some extra recognisance work this year before attending the latest round of Greedy Santa. I'll try to make it casual "So who's coming?" and keep myself flexible "As far as I know we will be there". I'll ask questions at the first sign of a cough or sneeze, "Wow that sounds rough. Have you gone to the Dr. yet?". I'll be vigilante "So is your son/daughter feeling better today?" And what happens when the inevitable does happen and we end up sharing the night with somebody who is sick? I'll secretly set the alarm on my phone to go off and fake an emergency.

Halloween 2009

This year we went Trick or Treating door to door for the first time. Fred had a blast running from house to house with all his best friends. Afterward we settled in for some hot soup and toasted cheese sandwiches. Plus this morning the Great Pumpkin even paid him a visit and brought a Little Foot sleeping buddy. What a great Halloween.

Fathers Still Know What's Best

"I wish all my dad's would bring a list from their wives" is the first thing Fred's Dr. said when he saw me pull the check list out of my pocket. I tried to defend myself by saying that I had brought Fred to the doctor several times before without the supervision of his mother. Still I couldn't shake the idea that he considered myself and all dads to be mere babysitters who are simply a stand in that will do when mom is not around. Kinda like having to use shredded instead of sliced cheese when grilling a sandwich. Yes it's still cheese, but there's no substituting the real thing. In my defense I'm just one guy who can't very well be held responsible for how half the population on this planet acts, but I tried. "I'll have you know I helped make this list and I'm just double checking that I covered everything." Again judging by his response that for every solo dad bringing in his sick child comes a dozen calls afterward from a very worried mother who didn't have all her questions answered, I felt I had no choice but to concede the point.

Dads used to be considered the last word. June always took Ward's lead. The show was called Father Knows Best not Mother May I. I'm not trying to be sexist, I'm only saying that just because Homer Simpson and Peter Griffin can't manage to tie a knot without somehow getting an ER tech involved doesn't mean all dads are that way. Given I will concede that during the first few years of marriage it's every man's nature to act like an idiot in hopes of getting less chore time and more football time. For quite a while there my wife was convinced I couldn't peel a potato or fold a towel because the end result was something that would not be acceptable in a bathroom closet or pot of stew. When it came down to it though I just wanted to see my team kick the extra point.

Now that I'm a dad things are different. Not only is everything in my household a tag team sport, but it's the same with all my buddies. We take our daughters to birthday parties, our sons shopping for school clothes, and cook dinner three nights a week. We still talk about the latest Nascar race or who showed up on SNL the night before, we just do it while waiting for ballet class and T-ball practice to be over. When we show up at these places it's not because we have to or their mom is sick so we are getting stuck with the task, it's because we are parents and we enjoy the spending time with our kids. Now if only all the Al Bundy's out there would quit furthering the stereotype.

The Question On Everyone's Mind

When I learned a few months back that our second child was on its way and life would be taking another one of those turns that you had always planned for, but are still never prepared to make; I remember going over in my head the list of things that would change. My McDonalds bill for one is going to skyrocket. Daycare is going to be as much as a house payment. At only 4 years apart to the month, my son will be close enough in age to enjoy mentoring our new addition. We will soon take up an entire pew at church. One thing I didn't consider was the reaction my wife and I would receive once people learned what we were having.

Yesterday with Fred in attendance we were blessed with imagines of a very healthy baby boy. Although the question of what we were having wasn't as important to Fred as "How are we getting it out of Mommy's belly?", he still managed to jump up and down when he learned the big news. This of course was expected, however what we didn't expect was how others would react. Of course everyone was excited and positive, but for some strange reason a different kind of question seemed to follow within minutes of the big reveal. The words weren't always the same: "Were you wanting a girl instead?" "Is Lucy sad it's not a girl?" "Since you are having another boy are you going to try a third time just in case?", but the meaning was always there in the subtext. Were we sad not to be having one of each?

There are questions that are automatically asked whenever somebody announces a big event. The first time your family hears you tell the person you are dating you love them you can bet "When will the question be popped?" is on the tip of every one's tongue. The moment the ring is on the finger you get "When is the big day?". I know you just walked down the alter, but what we are going to need now is a brief press conference on the subject of when your first child will be born. Now that you are pregnant what is your preference: Boy or Girl? The quick answer to this of course is that all any parent wants is a healthy child. It doesn't stop though and eventually gets to the point where that's not enough and they force you to declare what team you are on. "In general I want a healthy child, but that being said if I have to pick (and let's get this straight you can tell by the way they ask you with their beady eyes and fixed stare that you have no choice but to pick) I guess I would like a ___". Now that the sex of Baby#2 has been told to everyone in the Northern Hemisphere, I have to say I'm really shocked at the intensity of this line of questioning that suggests that deep down inside we are crushed by the thought of having another boy and we must unburden ourselves by admitting it once and for all. I'm not the only one that has noticed this.

My cousin who is coincidentally expecting daughter number two the exact same day as our second child, told me that one person dared to ask "How did your husband take not having a boy? Is he going to be okay with it?" Okay with it!?! How do you answer that? "Sadly after hearing the news that he was again denied a son, the last I saw he was running down the freeway ripping at his clothes and screaming something about hating his genes" After all that's really what they want to hear anyway. As for my family though I can honestly say that while a girl would have been nice, all I really want is a healthy happy baby that will follow in his big brothers footsteps by becoming every parents dream come true.

Curb Your Lack Of Enthusiasm

Like most of the people on this planet I'm a Seinfeld fan. I've written posts about it, watched every episode a dozen times, quote it frequently, yada yada yada....you get my point. When I heard the gang was getting back together for a reunion show inside a show I was all in. Larry David the guy behind Seinfeld has had a show on HBO for a while now and I've seen it a few times. It's not my favorite show, but it has it's moments. Nothing to get your DVR worked up about, still it's on Sunday night and there's not much to chose from. Now that the cast of Seinfeld is getting back together on Larry's show Curb Your Enthusiasm I'm watching it faithfully this season.



This week I made the mistake of catching up on the latest ep. in front of Gigi. Of course this was also the week where they tossed out F-bombs like they were pieces of candy being thrown from parade floats. I guess the reaction I got was similar in the sense that the crowd was up in the air waving their arms and hollering. The 1st one I acted like I didn't notice, the 2nd one caused me to turn the volume down a bit, by the time the 8th one flew across the room I began to feel like the lawyer of a man everyone knows is guilty, but still deserves a decent defense. Here I am watching a show I like for the B story line in which 4 classic television characters come together to do something they swore would never happen and not caring about what else is going on, suddenly I'm pleading my case to jury that has already made up their mind that I deserve to fry. Not that there's anything wrong with that, I understand her distaste for what was being presented. I just wish this time around the funny would have out weighted the foul and hadn't left me feeling less than the Master Of My Domain.

Ghosts Of Halloweens Past

Today they announced that this year's Halloween Contest at work would be held on the 29th and I gotta tell ya....I'm on the fence about this one. Admittedly after 339 posts I can't remember if I've shared my adventures in failed Halloween costumes before, but basically reviews have been virtually non-existent since for some reason I insist on practically hiding my costume in plain sight. One year I went as Bruce Wayne. I got all dressed up in my Sunday best, left a few extra buttons undone on my shirt, and wore my Batman shirt underneath. My thought was that people would see me dressed to the nines, catch the yellow hint of the Bat symbol sticking out, and rave about my creativity.....except apparently nobody looks at me and so nobody even guessed I was secretly a superhero. The next year I tried it again with Superman. With my plaid shirt, standard khakis, and black glasses, I looked just like Clark Kent with the faintest hint of an S sticking out just below my neck line.....and again it was a super dud.

Last year I decided I was going to get noticed once and for all. White shirt, black slacks, wet hair, tie sticking out wildly to the side of my shirt just under my pocket full of pens....I was the perfect Dilbert. I even changed my badge to say DILBERT!! How much more obvious did I need to be....well apparently a lot more, because for the 3rd year in a row nobody realized I dressed up for Halloween.

Now you can understand why this year I'm at a crossroads. I've got this idea for Shaggy. I could wear my brown corduroy pants, brown shoes, green long sleeve shirt, not comb my hair that day, and go without shaving for 2 weeks.....or I could forget the entire thing. Maybe it's time for a quick poll! See the sidebar for details!