98 degrees, but no Nick Lachey

It was almost 100 degrees here today. As you read that, I know you have two immediate burning questions, namely 1) How do you handle two babies on a day like that? and 2) How were the turkey burger/mushroom sliders?

First, let me tackle question 1:

1) Find a friend with central air and a big fenced in yard (Whoo-hoo Julie and Tyler)
2) Slyly get said friends to invite you over for the day. Bonus points if you make them think it was actually their idea.
3) Make friend give your children tractor rides while you dick with scrabble on your iphone

4) Throw down with some ice cream

5) Early bedtime

6) Seppuku

As for question 2, they came out quite well and thanks for asking. (The messed up ones were the ones I cut into to check cooking completeness. I never cook and I was paranoid).

So very tired

Between Jakey being sick and Grahambo being...well... 2, I am just so worn down.

That said, I'm making it short and sweet tonight with a bit of cuteness from my day.

Here is Graham doing his best to cozy up to a playground honey. At first, I was a little surprised by his forwardness, since he tends to be somewhat shy with physical affection and definitely values his personal space. But then I found myself confused by his sudden shift in direction. I mean, everyone knows the next move is the fake yawn/arm around the shoulder, right? Save that "I care/I don't care" emotional misdirection for later in the relationship.

I'm sorry, but this is bush league, buddy.

Just Jake

Sarah and Grahambo are away for the weekend, so I'm getting some nice alone time with Jakey. Unfortunately, I think he is fighting some kind of bug because this has been his day so far:

6:30 - Wide awake and angrier than Glenn Beck at a fact checking convention

6:35 - Having none of the attempted "daddy snuggle for 30 more minutes of rest"

7:00 - Finishes 8 oz bottle and insists on MORE!

7:10 - Finishes 4 more ounces and settles in on couch next to daddy for some morning videos. Oooooh, Katy Perry!

7:20 - Literally geysers 11.5 oz across the family room, dousing self, father and many electronics

7:30 - Daddy and Jakey hit the tub

(sidenote - Fathers, back me up on this; little boys are bewildered, amazed and insanely curious about your penis. Whenever I take baths with these guys its like I have flashing lights on it or something. It makes me want to build a time machine so they can spread the gospel of my amazing physique to all the girls in the early '90's who simply considered me...um... "gross". If they only knew. Oh well.)

8:00 - Resumes crying and meets Daddy's attempt to feed him pears by spitting most back in his face.

8:30 - Mildly interested in videos. Appears to catch slight case of Bieber fever.

8:45 - Conks out and sleeps nearly 3 hours

Could be a long day ahead.....

Down on the farm

Animals - god love them, right?

Wrong, I hate animals. Sorry, people, the majority of the world's creatures make me violently allergic. Plus, the ones that don't usually insist on smelling terrible or "showing affection" by climbing all over you and mashing your genitals. No thanks.

Regardless, just because I'm no animal lover doesn't mean I'm going to force the boyos to be the same. With that in mind, we packed up the Kia and headed to a local animal shelter/farm the other day.

Let the cuteness begin:

Despite having a new tooth coming in and being insanely frustrated with the limitations of his ten month old body, Jakey was able to take a moment to be insanely adorable with the horses.

Graham had no such issues and quickly made some new friends, including this guy. He actually kissed him after this, which I watched with equal parts wonder, pride, affection and "please, horse, don't bite his face off".

Finally, what trip to the farm would be complete without the ceremonial picture taken beneath the mammoth cow statue?

True story - as I got them to pose underneath this thing, Graham said "daddy, why is this here?" And frankly, it was harder to try and explain than the gay penguins.

God bless America.

Nurture

Something I think about a lot as Sarah and I raise these boys is the effect their environment has on who they will become. I mean, it seems obvious that the experiences we have and the things we're exposed to as children help shape us, but you don't really realize that until you're a parent. I now see what a frightening amount of influence I have and I'm not sure whether that's a good or a bad thing.

For instance, we bought Graham the movie Cars and he became OBSESSED with it. The same goes for Thomas the Tank Engine, Shrek and Toy Story. Honestly, I think I could have given him season two of the MacNeil Lehrer report and he would have begged me for the accompanying Lehrer doll.

Anyway, I always have this in mind and Sarah and I go out of our way to make sure he gets a broad base of experiences. This is especially true when I help him pick books out at the library. The other day I got him this book:

I figured it would be a nice story about a quirky baby penguin and would break up the monotony of cars and trucks books that we seem to always be reading.

That night we got about 5 pages in when I realized it was a nice story, a nice story about the deep homosexual love between two male penguins who become daddies through the quirky highjinks of the zookeeper.

Now, if you know us, you know we could care less about Graham being exposed to some gay penguins, it just kind of caught me off guard and thrust me into the "what it means to have two daddies" conversation a little earlier than I anticipated.

Since getting the book for Graham, he has predictably become a gay waterfowl fanatic and now we read it every night, which is all to the good. However, I can't stop thinking about some of my less liberal friends and how they would have reacted to getting their kids hooked on the story of Roy and Silo (are you kidding me with these names? Silo the gay penguin?!?!?) Unfortunately I think some of them would have been none too pleased.

Therefore, because I do feel it is a good book with an important message, I propose a small rewrite that might temper the the message with some good old fashioned straight guy testosterone.

I give you:

 

You're welcome America.

PS. Big congrats to little Jake, who teaches me time and again about the virtues of persistence.

Poop

People,

It may sound crazy, but a large part of the satisfaction I take in my new job is controlling the output of my children. Yes, by output I mean their poo.

Let me explain. In the two months or so before I took this gig on both Graham and Jake were in daycare. Now, as any parent out there knows, daycare gives you a slip at the end of the day telling you how your kids did. It covers eating, general mood and bowel movements. And while both were eating just fine and charming the pants off their teachers, the poop just wasn't right.

All of Graham's reports were saying that he was dropping loose bombs 4 or five times a day. A DAY. Come on.

Jakey's reports were that he was making tiny little charcoal bricks and was having trouble getting them out. Please.

So, part of my mission when I got them to myself was to get this shit sorted out. I cut back on Grahambo's milk and increased his fiber while simultaneously increasing Jakey's fluids and upping his fresh vegetables.

The result? Beautiful well formed turds a couple times a day. I actually look forward to the diapers now to make sure that everything is working as it should be.  Its gotten to the point where I can spot dehydration, too much processed sugar or even a missed vitamin dose a mile away. Boom.

I have become...The Poo Whisperer.

Sunday Morning

People,

This morning was one where it all just came together.

To begin with, I woke up in the same bed with a woman who I hardly ever see anymore (mainly due to her insane work schedule and extensive adulterous affairs). Then, my boys woke up and both came to the same aforementioned bed and promptly fell asleep - Jakey in my arms and Graham in Sarah's.

To top it off it was a) the first chilly day in a while, so we all had the quilt pulled up tight around us and b) it was raining -  not too hard and not too soft, just the perfect Sunday morning lying in bed with my people amount.

However, before you think I've gone all soft, I will tell you that I did burst out laughing uncontrollably after about ten minutes. This was when I realized the irony that this was not only my ideal morning, but also Michael Jackson's.

First Week

People,

I'd love to write a full and robust summary of my first week as a Mr. Mom, but I am just too tired. Here is a brief photo essay instead, highlighting some of the benefits of my new gig.

First of all, the commute is great.

Break time is pretty sweet too.

However, the new accounts receivable guys have been giving me a problem with some of my purchase orders.

Definitely some interesting conversations at lunch.

But like any job, everyone looks forward to the end of the day.

Until next time...

They don't make it easy

People,

So, I was going to begin this blog with a quick update on what I've been doing in the five years since I last had a blog, but recent events have taken precedence. Let's just say that in the interim between the hard drinking and soft rocking days of Fooled By April I have devoted my time to pointless employment and spreading my seed. Good? Good.


SCENE - Climbing the stairs shortly after caving in to a Grahamtrum and allowing him to have a popsicle. I generally hate giving in to such behavior but Jesus Christ, sometimes the path of least resistance is just too tempting.

Anywho, Graham is ahead of me, I'm holding Jakey and the pace.... is.... agonizingly.....slow....

Graham: Why are we going upstairs?
Mr. Dad: Well, we need to take a bath and then have stories....
Graham: (screaming) I don't want to take a bath!!!!
Mr. Dad: But buddy, you're really dirty and it will be fun, right? (imagine cheerful tone)
Graham: No! (begins crying and stops on stairs)

At this point, I am starting to get a little fried after our aforementioned dinnertime tantrum and Mr. G's general recent ill-temper. The terrible twos are not misnamed. Oh, did I mention that I also have an aching broken foot and that climbing stairs is a bit of a challenge right now even without battling a toddler?

Mr. Dad: Come on, buddy.
Graham: AAAAAAYAYYYIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEE (sits on stairs)
Mr. Dad: I really need you to make a good choice here (Note: Am I serious with this shit?)
Graham: AAAAAAYAYYYIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEE

A few minutes of cajoling and promises of stickers (mostly promises of stickers) finally does the trick and we're on the second floor. I go to run the tub.

While the tub runs I get Jakey and Grahambo down into diapers. We enter the bathroom, whereupon Jakey spits up all over my shirt. No harm no foul, I just pull the hem of the shirt up and wipe him off. I feel a little wet and gross, but this is old hat by now.

I start to put Jakey into the tub when I notice Graham reaching into the toilet.

Graham: What's in here?
Mr. Dad: Graham! Please don't....

So of course Graham pulls out a wad of toilet paper from the bowl and I kind of bark at him to drop it, which he does...on the floor. Awesome. Additionally, the bark melts him and he starts screaming again. Then he sits on the toilet paper. Whatever, one issue at a time.

Just to catch you up, I am now standing over the tub in a pukey shirt with a baby in one hand while trying to manage a screaming toddler who is sitting on a sopping wad of dirty toilet paper. Did I mention my foot is in a cast?

I decide to deal with Graham in a minute and pull off Jakey's diaper. As I lower him into the water my hand gets strangely warm. Please, please, please, for the love of Allah let this be #1. Nope.

My only consolation is that the turd is small and can wiped on my pants via my one available hand. I do this without even thinking. Parenthood is awesome because it allows you to make previously unconscionable decisions about your personal cleanliness.

"This bath will go on!" I declare determinedly. I put Jakey in the tub, turn, grab Graham and then turn back to Jakey just in time to see him drop a giant doo doo bomb. He smiles.

Again, so we're clear, at this point I have one hand on an infant who just shit everywhere in the tub and the other on a small childlike banshee who has dirty toilet paper hanging from one leg. While not crying, I am covered in poo and puke and bathwater (which is really essentially just extra watery poo at this point).

Mr. Dad: Well, Grahambo, I guess you don't need to take a bath tonight.
Graham: (collapsing in a heap) But I want to take a bath!!!!!!!!AAAAEEEIEIEIEIGHGJJSIASJsdnvkj  abcligrqpiuwec;kjnsdcpgwe!!!!

Then I get foggy on the details since I committed seppuku.

OK, there was no ritual suicide, but good lord how it was contemplated.

Needless to say, we eventually recovered and now the boys are in bed. I would have considered this bedtime a total failure were it not for this touching exchange as I said good night.

Mr. Dad: I love you, Grahambo.
Graham: Do you like staying home with me?
Mr. Dad: (genuinely moved) Of course! You're my best big boy, I LOVE staying home with you.
Graham: I love staying home with Mommy.

Game. Set. Match.

I'm baaaaack!

People,

What can I say, I'm back.

Why, you ask? Well, I've changed careers. I ditched my stupid, horrible, awful, retarded, debasing, humiliating white collar BS job to become a corrections officer. These are my two inmates:

They're tough, very good at smuggling spoons and apparently significantly taller than I remember.

I'm three days in and the stories and diapers are already adding up.

I plan on getting this puppy up and running over the next couple weeks and should soon be back to my old ways of wowing you with my uniquely humorous take on the pithy banalities of life. Stay tuned....