An educators perfect ending to the day!
Category Archives: Uncategorized
Before and After
Back in the day when I was a youngin’ Fall used to be about 3 things: Football, Watching Sleepy Hallow in sweat pants and doing nothing. Now We have a kid and we are expected to do parenting stuff.
Parent stuff is different than non parent stuff. I didn’t want to look at leaves last fall and I definetely don’t want to look at them this fall. Yes I love New England, yes leaves and colors are great to look at for like five seconds… Hiking, camping, leaf peeping… Definitely all family like activities. Before I was lucky if I could down a cup of coffee and drag my butt to the gym. Now… no more going to the gym to work on sculpting the perfect physique, definitely just leaf peepin’ now.
That’s not me. I’m not trying to sit still with a pair of binoculars and a .45 millimeter lens to take photos of nature. I just want to lay down in my dark man cave in my pajamas.
Before Jax came along things were different… Not better just different. Weekends were for laziness. They consisted of anything but activities, anything but putting on jeans and having to take a shower.
Back in the day weekends consisted of being able to compose a novel on the toilet. I read every article of Sports Illustrated (or at least the ones that didn’t have to do with hockey). Now I’m lucky if I get to finish what I started.
Weekends were for laziness, weekends were for cleaning out the DVR which was up to about 87% full… If I was able to mow the lawn that was a plus. Now… Well… Now I do parent stuff. I go to fairs, I drive to grandma’s house and I go leaf peepin’. But then again, if that means I get to spend time with my little man… Get me some binoculars.
Gross Habits Passed Down: Article Review
I’m a pretty big Twitter nut. I follow the usual athletes, a few politicians and the occasional news/media outlets. However, it is my new Twitter “obsession” that is beginning to take a toll on my ability to parent effectively… The “I’m not a guy, but I am going to tell you what is gross about you so that you can teach your son to not do it when he grows up” propaganda.
Ive read a lot of articles recently that focusses on bad habits and why dad’s need to be better role models for their sons. First of all, I don’t judge my ability to parent based on someone opinion about how inappropriate men are… and second, it’s already too late!
This morning, while shaving over the sink, I ran across this blog that listed the top five things that all boys need to be taught to avoid. I get it, we men are gross, but what you don’t understand is we don’t care. I’m in no way advocating for living like someone on Hoarders or even saying that I don’t qualify for the Metrosexual Club of America… but as my grandfather once said, “Leave the guy alone, it’s all he’s got left!”
Here are the Top Five I am supposed to help my son avoid: (I copied this word for word and then added my commentary in ITALICS):
1. The pick-and-flick
“Speaking of nasty things being flung around at full speed and “disappearing” — ugh! Tissues: Please get a box!”
Tissues? Nope, they’re a waste of time and trees (wait are tissues made from trees)? Either way, There is absolutely no way in hell this can be avoided. Plus boogers are biodegradable, i heard that from Al Gore in his Global Warming Documentary and hey, he won a Nobel Peace Prize, so you know he’s got to be right.
2. Leaving beard shavings all over the sink
“We know you see those tiny trimmings all over the sides of the sink. It’s time to take some responsibility, man!”
I think I may have missed the memo on this one while researching for this blog entry. (see above). In all reality, shaving is one of the most horrible and miserable parts of being a guy… Wait, What? You hate shaving too? Ohh, that’s right, you have to shave your legs. By the way… do I complain about the stubble you leave in the shower? Right, then leave me alone.
3. Stink Bombs
“Some men take pride in having really offensive, faint-inducing gas. Save this “fun” for your college buddies, not cuddle time on the couch. And if you always emit fumes that smell like toxic waste, lay off the milk or see a specialist, puh-lease! (P.S.: Dutch ovens are not funny.”
And you are telling this to a guy who uses the Poop emoji 💩on his phone more than regular punctuation. Bottom line, poop💩 is funny and farts are even funnier. I must have blogged about poo 💩 three times a week since Jax was born. There is no way I’m teaching Jackson NOT to fart. Even now at five and a half months old he laughs at his own gas… he doesn’t know his own name yet, but he thinks farts are funny. Why you ask, because farts are funny. If I am going to impart any knowledge on him in regards to “stink bombs” it will be how to hide them and the art of blaming others (Crop Dusting).
4. Public Scratcing
“What are the reasons behind the constant scratching and shifting around? Take it down a notch, bud.”
GUILTY.AS.CHARGED. But here’s the thing, there is absolutely no way to avoid this. This is not so much a gross habit as it is a life skill. This is something I’m already witnessing happen and the kid is only in a diaper. I can’t even get his onesie completely unbuttoned before he has his little fingers down below attempting to adjust himself. Guys scratch, guys adjust. Jax will too.
5. Peeing on the toilet seat
“Do not blame this on waking up in the middle of the night and being too groggy to see what you’re doing. No one’s asking you to pee into the opening of a soda can, for goodness sakes. It’s a big bowl — just aim straight for the middle. And then put the seat down when you’re done, k?”
See now I generally agree with this one, however, I do not want to raise a son who thinks that men and women aren’t equal or that men do things that women “can’t.” I absolutely agree that we need to pee in the toilet, I try to turn it into a game… put a cheerio in there and see how long you can keep the stream in the middle… kind of like that game at the carnival with the water guns. However, expecting men to life the seat and put it back down for women just sends a message of inequality. You see toilet seats are gross and dirty and women can get dirty just as much as a guy can. I want Jackson to grow up with the understanding that men and women are equal. Any job a guy can do… there is a women out there who can do it just as well.
I want to thank SheKnows.com women’s website for the interesting read about Gross Guy Habits and how a father needs to teach his son better. I’ll do my best as a new dad to teach my son right from wrong, and I will always use each situation, mistakes or otherwise, as a teachable moment… but the above requests… probably not going to happen.
Family Weekend
Jax’ first time on the swings!
Our Little Chewbacca
Your Move Ebola
I’ve about had it with this Ebola nonsense. It used to be having a baby, the only thing you had to worry about was croup or maybe diaper rash. Now the Rapture has come and is about to wipe out the planet in the name of Ebola. People are just walking around passing germs around like they’re freaking tic-tacs. No one knows what’s going on, governments holding secret press conferences, nurses catching it from patients, people being scanned at the airport… this is too much.
The best part is, we are totally prepared to handle this thing if it spreads, right. WRONG: The map shows the hospitals in the US that have Bio Containment Units. There’s like four… FOUR!!! Are you kidding me? There are 11,910 Starbucks in the United States… but we only have four Bio Containment Units? Priorities people! Anyone with Ebola is getting shipped out to one of these hospital units… once the ten beds are full, then what? Can we send them into outer space? Send them to the International Space Station. I bet zero gravity will help contain the spread of Ebola.
I’m not taking any chances here, no grocery store, no gas stations, I’m not even welcoming house guests anymore. That’s it… Our doors (and windows) are closed. Nobody in and nobody out. Jackson is being raised in a bubble.
Hey Ebola, Have fun running rampant across the amber waves of grain, purple mountain majesties and above the fruited plains, because you aint getting to us. I’m not going to sit here and pretend like this is the Bird Flu, H1N1 or Y2K, which clearly were scams… this is real and you are not going to find us bleeding from our ears or pooping out our kidneys. Your move Ebola.
Sirius XM Kid’s Bop Radio: Review
As a long time SiriusXM subscriber I have listed to and enjoyed a wide variety of radio entertainment. Part of being a good parent is being aware of what your child is exposed to. This brings me to the reason for today’s blog entry… My review of SiriusXM Kidz Bop Channel 77:
-Miley Cyrus songs are just as terrible with kids signing them; although, there is definitely more talent there than Miley.
-There is nothing lost in translation when “explicit or controversial” lyrics are changed and made “clean.” IE: Macklemore states in his Thrift shop song that some item from the thrift shop smells as bad as RKelly’s sheets… in the clean version the item smells as bad as a pair of baseball cleats. I mean anyone who has played baseball (or any sport that requires the use of cleats) especially in the rain, knows how putrid they smell the next morning. I’d say that would be very comparable to the smell that would come from RKelly’s sheets.
-I know they clean up the lyrics and all… but it feels really awkward listening to anything by Rihanna when it is being sung by a teenager.
-There’s a Kidz Bop Concert coming up… Thank god Jax is only five months old and has no idea what Kidz Bop Radio is.
Rating: 3 out of 5 Diapers
Life at 100 MPH
As everyone would expect, a new dad would rarely get much rest and would constantly be on his toes. As everyone who knows me would expect, this would be right up my alley. ADHD is an understatement, and there’s no doubt I rarely sit still. However, this new family thing is a whole new level of not sitting still.
What once would be called a relaxing weekend has turned into an every lasting marathon of events that should not take longer than five minutes. Yes I know this “play on words” seems a bit extreme… marathons are already long… why do they have to be called everlasting? Come here on a Friday night, and I’ll show you an everlasting marathon.
Saturday’s main event consisted of watching a movie with the little guy while mom was out at the fair. Seems easy enough:
Before bundle of joy: Make yourself some lunch grab a vitamin water (I’m a dad now… vitamins are important), take out DVD, turn on TV and surround sound, hit play, put butt in recliner and enjoy.
After bundle of joy: Take out cold cuts for lunch, hear a loud rumble from the other side of the room, realize you have to change gigantic messy diaper, realize there are no diapers at the changing table, run upstairs (realize you left baby on changing table alone half way up the stairs, run back downstairs, pick up naked baby, run back upstairs to get diapers), get peed on walking back downstairs, curse at yourself for not wrapping up that little fire hose, change baby, clothe baby, run back upstairs, change and wash yourself, head back down stairs, forget what you were doing before the mud butt struck. When you see both your dogs polishing off the cold cuts you left out, curse at yourself again and warm up leftovers. Eat standing up while dangling keys in front of baby to keep him from crying. Forget vitamin water; quickly take a vitamin with a glass of water. Pack up toys and Mr. McGibblets for optimum movie watching in the basement (for those of you who are not familiar with Mr. McGibletts see my earlier blog entries from the end of July). Once you are completely packed up and downstairs, curse at yourself again for forgetting to bring the baby downstairs. Realize it’s been almost 40 minutes and you no longer have any desire to watch a movie. It’s a mystery how anyone with a baby watches anything on TV at all.
I did get out of the house for a little bit Saturday night, which was nice. Although a night out with the guys now includes showing each other pictures of our kids and swapping stories about how insane it is to think we all have kids now.
Sunday was epic. “Let’s go to the pumpkin patch and take some family photos before the Packers game.” (Famous last words!). First of all how does layering clothes for an infant work. Remember that old math problems: Jax has 3 different shirts, and 4 different pairs of pants and 6 set of socks. How many different combinations of outfits can he make from what he has? That perfectly sums up my morning. If you buy everything the same size: onsie, khakis, sweat shirt and lined jacket… how the hell are they all supposed to fit. I literally must have had to try 17,000 combinations of layers in order to get this little guy bundled up. After struggling to get him all set barely squeezing him into his car seat, I realized he hadn’t been changed in a while… at least now I know the perfect combination of clothes. I remember thinking, “I just have to work backwards to get them off. I’ll make sure to leave a trail of bread crumbs so I can figure out how to get them back on.”
Clearly I could go on explaining how life’s simple events took hours to complete, but I’m sure everyone gets the point. The funny thing is, I don’t mind. I don’t mind one little bit. Every second I spend with this little guy is amazing. Either way, my ADHD is sure enjoying the ride.
This blog entry has been featured on:
Things the Farmers Do Not Tell You
So I am all for a good old American tradition on a football Sunday (as long as we leave early enough and are back in time for Packers kickoff). Heading to the apple orchard or just a good ole farm to hunt for the fattest pumpkin (until you realize they charge .50 a lbs) you can find is part of what makes fall fall. The thing is… everything is so much more enjoyable when you have a baby with you. See now have someone to talk to and joke around with while mommy is deep in thought about what farm fresh produce she will bring home… because I could care less. The thing is there are apparently some unwritten pumpkin picking, farm house rules that until today I was unaware of.
Unwritten Rule #1: Do not stuff your baby’s jacket with corn stalks and hay and laugh. I’m not sure when this became a rule, because it was hilarious and I wish I had thought of this at an early age. I would have 100% done this to myself if Jax wasn’t there. I would not recommend signing “If I only had a brain” after being told to take the hay out.
Unwritten Rule #2: One rule that I at least can somewhat understand is the one that states DO NOT sit on the pumpkins. I mean this seems pretty much self explainatory right? You can crush them or damage them right? Actually when you think about it… it is pretty tough to damage a pumpkin… I think this rule makes more sense when you take into account the fact Jax has begun pooping though his diaper and pants. The fart that came out of him has to poison that pumpkin. I feel bad for who ever carves that one… gives new meaning to the phrase: “it smells like the inside of a pumpkin!”
Unwritten Rule #3: It is inappropriate to use a gourd as a giant male body part on your 5 and a half month old son. This is another ridiculous rule. Who hasn’t done this? This is what sets us men apart from the rest of the world… we can use funny looking things and pretend they are our wiener. Either way I guess this is frowned upon in the pumpkin picking world. And to that I say BOO farm… BOO!
First Date
Remember your first night at college when you and your roommate literally looked for anything to keep you awake and out of your dorm room past 2AM? I remember Jay Varmey and I wondering across campus at like 11:00 then getting back to the dorm and playing Madden until after midnight, and for me that was a good night. I was never a partier or stay out late kinda guy (Don’t get me wrong I had my fair share of interesting nights).
But let me tell you this… Having a kid changes everything. (I’m not complaing). Now, if I could be in bed by 8:00 and sleep more than 45 minutes without having to worry if Jax’ arm is wedged in between the supposedly baby proof, safety mesh screen and the crib slats, id consider that a successful night. So getting a night all to ourselves is special. It’s important… and most of all it’s short
But this is real life and sometimes real life isn’t fair. So if you’re told it’s date night, then it’s date night. Doesn’t matter if you spent the last three nights staring at the baby monitor. Plan something, and make reservations.
PS: I fell asleep at least 4 times while writing this blog entry.
Pumpkin Season
Good morning #PumpkinHead
Sorry Sons: Chronicles of a New Dad 