Bronx Born Brainwashing

brain·wash: ˈbrānˌwôSH,ˈbrānˌwäSH/ (verb)gerund or present participle: brainwashing; make (someone) adopt radically different beliefs by using systematic and often forcible pressure.    “the organization could brainwash young people”

synonyms: indoctrinate, condition, reeducate, persuade, influence, propagandize, inculcate “the evidence is compelling that these cult members were indeed brainwashed”

You’ve read the above definition right? Good. Then you clearly know that my sons being Yankees fans is in no way brainwashing.  You are BORN a Yankees fan.  You aren’t made one. You bleed PINSTRIPES.  I grew up a Yankees fan because the Yankees are in my blood.  Bronx born, Pelham raised… Yankees for life… 

… so what if it takes a little NYY nightlight to help make sure my youngest is on the right side? 

It’s not brainwashing if it’s in your blood!  

“It’s Deja-Vu All Over Again.”

​”It’s deja-vu all over again.” -Yogi Berra. Baby grows bigger, starts eating more than milk and then begins jamming anything he can get his hands on down his throat. It was inevitable, and it’s happening now.

It’s starts simple, I remember thinking it was cute watching Jax gnaw on his little teething toys. First it’s all, “Aww look… he’s biting on the little plastic keys, how cute.” 

Then… not long after… it’s, “pick up the small toys, clean up the dog food pieces, and batten down the hatches, because this kid is about to eat any inadament object within reach. You’d think this wouldn’t be a big deal the second time around… but you know what… it’s harder. You think you have moved past all this nonsense so you start to let your guard down and before you know it your five month old is chewing on a drier sheet. 

Fingers crossed friends.  Things are going to get interesting… AGAIN.  

Project Big Boy Room (New York Yankees Style)

img_0911-1Jackson’s transition to his bigboy room was was what you do expect… a little hard at first with a few nights wanting to sleep in his old room. However for the most part he was excited to have a new room, with a big bed and most of all he was excited to help create it.

I wanted to have him help (in all reality he does have more DIY skills than I do… and is by far a better painter). Case in point: how is it possible to slice your finger open while opening a can of paint… img_0918 But I digress… the room was a navy blue and we decided to go with Yankees Away Jersey Gray with a large blue accent.  Everyone knows that the easier part of painting stripes or lines is using a laser level to make sure everything is straight.  But not Jax and I. We go by eye, or eyes, I mean between us we have four.  I’m sure the lines came completely level.

From there the gray paint just went on with ease… went on the floor, the windows, the dogs, Jackson, in my eye my eye… the ceiling… you get the picture. Ohh yea… Peppa Pig’s tent also recieved a little touch up as well: img_0942-1   Luckily the decorative hand towels were within walking distance and provides us an easy cleanup.  img_0912-1

Meanwhile, we both went to work on separate projects for the room. Jax created his own personal Mini-Monet painting

…and I transformed an old step stool into a Yankees baseball card collage.

I also refinished Jackson’s bedstand (that was once my dads and the was mine) from the red color in the nursery to blue, and added a few finishing touches:

Then it came time for the bogboy bed assembly. 14 trillion parts, yet according to the directions I would only need a Phillips head screwdriver and an allenkey… I needed a wrench, a hammer, some screws, my screw- gun, wood glue, and five zip ties.

Smartly, after seeing me assembly his bed, Jax decided to nap on his beanbag chair… on the floor: img_0976-1

From there things started coming together and we were able to add a few more Yankees details to the room to help add to the theme.

The final corner stones of the room came last as I added the three feature pieces.

1. The first being the actual second base that was used in the first game Jackson ever went to at Yankee Stadium (Derek Jeter’s 2nd to last home game) signed by Jeter and mated with the ticket from the game, the Jeter retirement patch from his jersey and our picture from the game:

2. The second is an original signed artist print by Bill Lopa which was also signed by Mariano Rivera. This painting is HUGE and looks amazing mated with navy blue suede: IMG_1636

3. Last, but certainly not least… what New York Yankees Room is complete without the famous Yankee Stadium Facade?  IMG_2567  …add to that, Jackson’s Yankees newborn photo on canvas and that’s a wrap… img_2778


PS… Yankees theme or not… had to have a Harry Potter tribute too:  

RE2PECT  2️⃣

It’s supposed to be cloudy and pour all day… but on the seventh day God called the Bronx’ Native Son home to the Stadium he built to retire his number forever… and the Heavens parted. RE2PECT 🌞 2️⃣

Growing up my grandfather talked about how indescribable it was watching Mantle and DiMaggio play. The aura that they exuded was legendary and defined a generation. To us, to me… Derek Jeter is that generation defining player. He is and always will be the greatest Yankee I’ve ever seen play. I just hope Jax and ni Oliver can watch someone they can call an iconic Yankee too. I love this picture and was stoked to get a shot of us two with Jeets in the background. #NYY #DerekJeter #RE2PECT

Today everyone is cheering for: 

DEREK JETER 👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼 DEREK JETER 👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼 DEREK JETER 👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼 

https://chroniclesofanewdad.com/2014/09/24/the-house-that-jeter-built/

Oliver Potter and the Staci Miller Newborn Photos

I’m not sure if i have a writing style… if you had to narrow it down I know a few people might say my style is “grammatically horrible,” or “not really funny”… something like that. First Person Narrative… I guess that’s the closest you can get to narrowing down the writing. I mean the blog is titled Chronicles of a New Dad… I’d like to think I’ve Chronicled my perspective on having kids in a unique way.

But, today… I’ve decide to change it up a bit… I needed to tell someone thanks. Thanks for quite a bit actually. So I’m changing things up a little bit and am going writing letter style.

Dear Staci Miller (Photography),

It’s been almost three years since you came into our life… expensive Nikon camera, gorgeous props and the patience of a saint. Yes, early on in our relationship you had a different name… Pink Elephant… different but still amazing. And that’s just it… i needed to thank you for bringing amazing to life.

Not many people can take the thoughts that swim around in this weird brain of mine… take those abstract ideas and make them concrete. You’ve successfully, in essence, painting the pictures of my mind and put them on canvas. You’re an artist with a flash and lost of fluorescent lighting.

The thing is, that’s not even what makes these pictures a masterpiece. It’s the fact that you have to deal with me… a hyper… anxiety riddled parent who is obsessed with details. I’m the Jack Nicholson (As Good As It Gets Nicholson) of parenting during new born photos. OCD to the max.

You’ve taken photos of a wizards hat and wand… you successfully posed an infant on a giant piece of cheese and most impressive of all captured numerous shots while getting peed on. It’s impressive to say the least.

There was the time at the barn where Jackson got bit by a rooster, the time where we got you caught up in a beach wedding with Miller Highlife cans in the background, the session where I made you take pictures of my sons butt and the time my pants were too tight to help hold Oliver’s head up. I admit to ruining quite the few “perfect shots.”

You took pictures while my son puked on your floor, peed on your brand new background and shattered glass Christmas ornaments (ok the ornaments were my fault… and I may have eaten a few cheese sticks out of your fridge, but you catch my drift… we’re not easy subjects to photograph.

But that all pales in comparison to the latest sitcom-like experience. You know the one where I made you snap photos of my son inside a flower pot while he was screaming (purposefully making him cry, because that’s what Mandrakes do in Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets… (which by the way is my least favorite book and movie).

You did it all with a smile on your face and 85mm – 135mm lens in your hand (is that a real thing I know nothing about cameras?). You always welcomed us in your home, or your studio or some random farm, which if I were you I’d suggest every time since then Jackson can’t eat all your cookies and string cheese.

And for some reason you keep having us back and the pictures get better each time we do. For that… I thank you… from the bottom of my Harry Potter loving heart.


And then the unprofessional, I should have been helping instead of sneaking pictures w my iPhone, pictures:

 

Here is the link to Jackson’s newborn photos: https://chroniclesofanewdad.com/2014/05/10/5-10-14-newborn-photos/

Carmine D. Tiso (The OG Carmine) 8.22.26 – 11.25.16


I grew up with parents who were loving, caring, supportive and generous. I owe so much of who I am to them… but there was always something about my grandparents that had me captivated.  I loved their house on Charles Place and the giant oak tree that we would spend hours sitting in front of and talking about life. That entire house smelled older, worn but safe; the aroma of nan’s perfume and hairspray filled the house. But it was pop’s calming voice that always made me feel loved and happy.

Legacy is what every man lives for. Whether it’s fame, fortune, love or the simple fact of leaving behind a name that will carry with it the utmost respect for eternity. Carmine is just that… whether you knew him as Uncle Junior (Sooranos reference), Uncle Carmine, Babe or Pop… Carmine will forever carry with it images of a selfless man who loved his family more than anything else in this world. He was a man who stood up for what he believed in and never told you what you wanted to hear. He told you the truth. He was my Professor Dumbledore even before Harry Potter was published. I learned to value what I hold near and dear to me and that the choices we make are at the heart of who we are.

I still remember the day I told him I was giving up baseball and taking up track… the silence was short… but his words were strong… “Are you crazy?!!” It was hard feeling like you disappointed the man you looked up to, the person who taught you everything you knew about sports. But when he learned how serious I was he supported me more than anyone… that was him. Say what you mean and mean what you say and support those who mean most to you. When he knew you did he believed in you. To him, “words were, in his not-so-humble opinion, our most inexhaustible source of magic. Capable of both inflicting injury, and remedying it.” He didn’t always say he loved you, but you knew he did.

I had more conversations about the Yankees with him than Mike Francesca had with Chris Russo. I learned how to turn a double play like Phil Rizzutto, I learned how to shoot a jump shot (by the way… I never ever once beat him in around the world), and recently he taught me how to hit my 5 iron. Those are the images that will forever be burned into my mind.

But for me and anyone who knew him it was who he was in the quiet times that made you love him. Whether it was a long time customer who came in to ask his advice on an air conditioner he sold them in 1983, or a granddaughter who couldn’t wait for a plate of pasta on a Tuesday night, he was always there.

He was a Military Veteran, but refused to think of himself equal to others who served out country. He would often tell a story of his cousin who was fighting on the front lines in Germany. He would write home from overseas and tell Pop to be careful and stay safe. Pop, at the time, was playing baseball for the army, traveling up and down the East Coast entertaining the troops… He called it the “Battle of the Hudson!”He would tell this story and with a laugh say, “he’s getting shot at by Nazis and he’s telling me to stay safe… like crossing the Hudson River on a bus for a doubleheader was more dangerous than that!”

When nan passed away… I honestly think I learned what real selflessness was. He went to that cemetery everyday. He planted grass seed (and for everyone who knew him you weren’t surprised that it was the greenest, most well groomed plot of grass in the whole cemetery). He loved her more than he loved anything in this world and he never let anyone forget it. He loved her more than an Eli Manning touchdown pass, more than nan’s potato and egg sandwiches, even more than a Yankee World Series championship… although that was definitely a close second.

I once read a quote that said “today is a new day. God gave us the this day to use as we will. what we do today is important because we are exchanging a day out of our life for it. When tomorrow comes this day will be gone, leaving in its place that which we traded it for. We want it to be good, not evil, gain not loss, success not failure.”

That was pop… if you were to measure a man’s life against that quote… then he won. He was a legend who left behind a legacy of good, gain and success. He leaves behind family, friends, a grandson and great grandson (both who share his name) and both who will forever be better people because of him.

Until we meet again (and I finally get that rematch in around the world)… Rest easy Pop… and tell Nan I love her.

 

 

Cue the Disney Music


Yesterday something magical happened. It wasn’t something tangible, it wasn’t even something quantitative. It was a real moment that can and will never be rightfully explained by words on paper (or in this case words on a screen). It was definitely a moment out of a Disney movie. (And I’m not talking about today’s Disney… Im talking early Michael Eisner Disney movie type. The Classic Disney music was quietly playing in the background. It was a long day. A day that father and son spent together doing father and son things. We went to the gym together (in matching Yankees shirts… I know, I know… But we did so just deal with it and keep reading). We stopped for a slice of pizza together (as an aside, there needs to be some work done around the pizza making where I live… I grew up on amazing NY pizza, Bethel Pizza and now where I work… But where I live? We need to step it up around here).   

But, I digress… So here I am a so called “daddy blogger” trying to enjoy the day with my son. We played together and ate lunch together and as he went down for a nap I gave me a kiss and passed out. Nothing out of the ordinary for our day. 


It wasn’t until later that night when I pressed play on the DVR and Elsa and Anna appeared that my son ran to me, climbed on my lap… Leaned over kissed me on the cheek and laid his head on my shoulder to watch Frozen. My son doesn’t sit still for more than ten seconds at a time and then all of a sudden plops himself down on my lap, snuggles closely, and leans his head onto my shoulder? He looks up me you with a sparkle in his eye and a sweet smile and I instantly fell under his spell again, honestly it was an even stronger feeling of love than when I had first held him. I felt like at that moment he was telling me that he knows I am always going to be there to provide him comfort and protect him as much as I can. I felt like this was “his” way of saying “I love you.” He might not be talking, but he got his message across loud and clear…

I love you too little man!