Mud wrestling

First of all, I apologize to my vast minions of readers who surely are outraged that the past 2 days produced zero blog postings. Please forgive me. I have a perfectly good excuse. I didn't feel like it. Also, my wife and I went out of town for the night - which is a rare occurrence these days. For one evening, we had carefree fun enjoying another city. We had the chance to totally relax with no responsibilities for a short time. And then we came home the next day to our real world...

We returned yesterday around noon from our short trip out of town. When I walked into our home, I noticed an odd smell. I couldn't quite pinpoint where it was coming from, nor could I accurately decipher the type of odor. It was just a funky grossness. Nothing that anybody would want in their house.

I suspected the dog right away. But honestly the fumes didn't smell anything like her normal bi-products. Furthermore, I walked around our house, failing to find anything that could cause such a stench. We had ourselves a bona fide mystery.

A while later I ventured down to our basement to retrieve something. I turned the corner and saw a calamitous affair consisting of canine fecal matter. It was as if our basement had been used to stage a mud wrestling tournament while we were away.

I don't want to be crassly descriptive here, but I feel it warranted to explain the situation so that my disgust of the scene is truly understood. To add to the misery presented me, the dog found it necessary to unleash her mayhem on a couple of photography backdrops I had left laying out. Of course. Apparently the she was a bit sick because the toxic material in question was in a physical state somewhere in between solid and liquid. (I think I just threw up a little bit in my mouth.)

Ok, moving on...

The cleaning process began, and my wife helped with the process. I love her.

That part of the clean up was fun compared to what I had to do next. Looking at my dog, debating whether or not to kick it, (relax, I didn't) I noticed there were remnants on her tail end. She needed cleaned up back there. Fantastic.

I took her into the backyard and began hosing her down.(yes, the tail end area) At that point I began questioning why we have a dog to begin with. I had become a make-shift doggy bidet.(again, I have a little vomit in my mouth) It's an odd feeling when you find yourself in the position of such humbling circumstances. It'd be one thing if I thought she had some appreciation for my efforts but I fear that she just assumed we were both enjoying the experience. Not so much.

After a few long minutes of thorough rinsing and nausea, I completed the task at hand.

My apologies to anybody who was completely disgusted by this posting. I myself would just assume to forget the sights and smells of yesterday but it's still fresh in my mind. Misery loves company is what many people say. Thanks for sharing in some of mine.

One more thing. If you ever find yourself rinsing down your dog's dirty bum with a garden hose, be sure to do so with a closed mouth. BEWARE OF OVER SPRAY. One might think that would be self explanatory, but sometimes things are sadly learned the hard way. (one again, a little more vomit in my mouth right now)

The Tortito

Happy belated Father's Day. Hopefully dads everywhere enjoyed their special day. I know I did. Personally I think it's a way better holiday than Mother's Day.

My day consisted of hanging pool side, eating steak and ice cream, and having a great excuse to be non-productive. I wish everyday could be Father's Day. My wife would probably argue that I treat each day as if it were. Fair enough I suppose.

Altogether, it was a fairly uneventful weekend. Nobody did anything embarrassing in public, wounded themselves or their sister, committed a crime, or did something weird to the dog. Like I said, it was a fairly quiet couple days around here.

There was one interesting moment though. As with many kids her age, my 4 year-old daughter sometimes confuses words. She combines words and/or makes up her own vernacular altogether. It's extremely cute but also confusing at times. We occasionally have to translate and decipher what she's intending to tell us. I'm reminded of Will Ferrel's George W. Bush imitation when he used the word "strategery" on Saturday Night Live. The same oratory skill applies to my little girl.

So this weekend, her and I decided to swim in our pool together. We were about to get in and she said the following: "Daddy, let's get in and play with the tortito."

"I'm sorry, what was that?"

"The tortito. Let's play with it. It's so much fun. I played with it yesterday and it's so much fun in the pool," she petitioned.

"A what?" I asked again, confused and a bit worried. Knowing she had a history of not only making up her own language, she also was skilled at doing some very odd things. My initial thought was, "Is she saying 'burrito' or 'tortilla'?" Either way, neither belonged anywhere close to a swimming pool. My world view believes strongly that Tex-Mex is a delicious cuisine, but not a pool toy. I guess I'm just crazy like that.

So I asked her to describe the "tortito" further, hoping for the best, expecting the worst.

She described a toy that was long, narrow, and went real fast in the water if a person threw it. "You know Dad, a tortito!" she said emphatically.

It then dawned on me. Much to my relief, she did not speak of a burrito nor a tortilla. My daughter wanted to play with the "torpedo". Thankfully, my family is not as bizarre and, well, as gross as I had feared there for a moment.

This is acceptable in our pool...



However, this is not...

Hair things: Part III

In this final segment dealing with a few hair accessories that are a part of our everyday life around here, I figured it’d be nice to end on a positive note. I have mastered the object above. I refer to it as a “rubber band hair thing.” Pretty sure that’s not the official name of it but my moniker works. The kids know what I’m talking about and that’s pretty much all that matters.

If you can comprehend the mechanics of a rubber band, you can figure out this guy. If you can’t figure out a rubber band then I’m fairly certain you can’t figure out how to use a computer. In that case you are not reading this blog. Generally speaking, you're probably not reading. Moving on…

Anywho, I love when the girls approach me with this thing in hand, requesting to have me “do their hair”. I’ve become quite talented in the art of ponytail making. It took me a while, but I finally learned that “ponytail” is the singular, and “pigtails” is the plural. For some time I’d interchange the two terms, always evoking correction from the kids. Silly me.

I rarely attempt pigtails because when I’m finished, their heads always look asymmetrical. The bundled sprouts of hair on either side are very difficult to make evenly. From the back, the children’s melons look quite odd. From the front, they look slightly insane, perhaps even a little deranged. Neither of which are looks I want my daughters to have. I’d be afraid they’d never find husbands in that case, resulting in them living with us forever. Yowza.

Like the other two hair accessories featured this week, this rubber band style can be found everywhere: sinks, drains, couch cushions, washing machine, the dog’s poo etc. Rarely are they found in weird places like dressers or heaven forbid vanity drawers. That’s just crazy talk.

When they’re swept up in the vacuum, at least these are quiet. So that’s nice. Same goes for when they’re run through the washing machine. Yet just another reason why I prefer these to the other 2. When they’re lying on the carpet, I always think they resemble coiled up night crawlers that have come out onto the ground after a rain. I guess this goes along with the analogy that the metal clip style sometimes look like a cockroach.(see yesterday’s post)

I've learned over the years that little girls love to be told they're "pretty". Fortunately for them, my girls look like their mother. No girl wants to be told that she looks exactly like their father. "Wow honey, you look just like your daddy!."

"Uh, my dad has a beard and receding hair line. Gee, thanks...jerk."

I think it's especially important for them to hear complements from their dad. If not, the first loser who comes along with a few kind words could sweep them off their feet. I'm going to try my best to keep that from happening. For now, I want to be the only loser in their life. Wait...I mean...oh whatever.

Have a great weekend people.

Hair things: Part II

So getting back to hair issues...

This particular hair thing is impossible. It is the weird, more fashionable cousin of the bobby pin but it is absolutely worthless. There's no technique that works for me in trying to get this to stick on my girls' heads for any extended period of time. And according to my wife and daughters, "Duct tape has no place in styling hair." Whatever. I still occasionally give "the old college try" and manage to somehow stick them on their heads for a short while. It should be noted that when I think of college, the last thing that pops into my mind is "trying" however.

Although lacking in the sheer innumerable quantities like the bobby pins, these guys still pose some similar problems: falling off of heads, getting caught in the vacuum cleaner, startling noise made when sucked up into said vacuum cleaner etc. However, unlike it's skinny anorexic relative, this one will make a grown man cry if stepped on with bare feet. (My reference to "grown man cry" doesn't necessarily apply to me. It's just a vague analogy. Seriously, I am very tough as well as macho. No need to verify that with my wife though.)

There are a few differences between the two, however. For whatever reason, I find these continually in the washing machine. I have no idea why exactly but it's crazy. It's almost like the girls allow me to put them in their hair, as if a token gesture to make me feel good about myself, and then when I'm not looking they remove them and put them in their pocket. Inevitably, with this scenario they'd easily end up in the wash. Hmmmm...



In just the right light, these things look like giant bugs. Sort of like winged cockroaches or one of those weird African beetles that people had to eat on Fear Factor. These hair clips can make a person do a double take. Sometimes, if it's a dimly lit room, they might even make a grown man shriek like an adolescent girl thinking it's a large insect. (Again, "shriek like a little girl" does not appertain to this man's man. It's just another totally hypothetical situation. I don't even know how I came up with it. Honestly.)

Kayla & Jason's wedding

Here are some pics from Kayla & Jason's outdoor wedding this past weekend. We could not have asked for a better day. The setting was fantastic and so were the people I had the privilege of photographing.

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Preview

The hunt

I know I mentioned yesterday that I was going to do a series on "hair things". Well, change of plans. I woke up today and decided to write about something else. This is yet another confirmation of my ADD tendencies. Maybe tomorrow I'll get re-focused and do the hair topic. Hard to say.

Yesterday afternoon, while running some errands by myself, I heard peculiar noises coming from the back of my seat. At first, there was a squeaky sound, something along the lines that a chipmunk or mouse might make. I kind of got scared for a moment, thinking that some sort of woodland creature was going to jump on my shoulder at any time. (picture Clark Griswold in "Christmas Vacation" -a classic)

I should mention that I love the outdoors. I like animals. However, I think that animals belong in their natural habitats - the woods or preferably the zoo. I don't mind squirrels, or rabbits, or birds being outside. That's fine. But put 1 of them in a confined area with me such as a house or in this case, a car, it freaks me out. I will scream like a little girl and run fast and far away. Not necessarily proud to say that, just being honest.

Anywho, I noticed that each time I slowed down, the odd noise occurred. I thought that my braking was somehow making the varmint mad. Weird. But then I noticed if I stopped or sped up quickly, in addition to the clicking/squeaking noise, there also projected a ringing bell sound. Very weird.

At stoplights I tried to turn around and find the source of the calamity emitted from behind my seat. No luck. I had to wait until I got home to figure it out.

Upon arriving home, I hopped out and opened the back door of my car. (yes, I drive a 4 door sedan...2 door cars are for pansies) And there it was. A creepy, diabolical thing that has been around our home for approximately 9 years. I think I've tried to dispose of it a dozen times, but somehow it keeps eluding my attempts. And now, it had made its way into my car of all places.

What it was doing under my driver's seat, I have no idea. It always seems to move from location to location, never staying in one spot for very long - kind of like Osama bin Laden. I think that's how it's managed to survive for this long. Just when we decide to exterminate it, we can't find it. And when we do find it, our youngest child at the time decides to befriend it again and thus we have no choice but to accept it.

And to make matters worse, it always wears an evil grin upon its face. The mocking, taunting smirk is ever-present. Never relenting, never changing, always aggravating, and fueling my hatred for it.

So finally, I had the opportunity to rid ourselves of this menace. I forcefully grabbed it, and brought it inside the house. As it turns out, that was a costly mistake. I should have taken a hammer to it and threw the remains into the garbage can when nobody was looking. But I didn't. My ADD kicked in and I became side tracked with something else. Such a fool am I.

Because I didn't follow through with the elimination process right away, it has managed to yet again avoid its own demise. I've lost track of it once more and really don't feel like hunting it down. So, I'll just wait for it to show itself as it inevitably always does. This is my punishment for being a procrastinator. Somewhere, it lies waiting for the opportunity to unleash its array of audible annoyances.

Laugh now, Fisher Price beast. You'll have your day. YOU'LL HAVE YOUR DAY!

Hair things: Part I

This week I'm addressing some hair related issues...

Ok. What is this object in the picture? I believe it's called a "bobby pin". I do know that it is not a "safety pin". I won't go into great detail of how I learned the difference between the two, but I will just say that it involves a little pain, crying, and repeatedly saying the words, "Daddy's so sorry, sweatie." My wife had made the mistake of assuming I knew the difference between the two pins when she asked me to "please put a bobby pin in the girls' hair." My bad.

Whatever the name, this is one of approximately 468 that are lying around our home. They are in drawers, under furniture, stuck in drains, and pretty much any flat surface has at least one on it. We always have them in our bathtubs, which, if they are left in a wet tub, they leave rust stains. Fantastic.

My theory is if I was to put two in a drawer over night, in the morning there'd be at least three in there. Some how, they have the capability of reproducing. Sort of creepy.

They are hard to see when lying on the carpet, incidentally making them easy targets for the vacuum cleaner. I cringe whenever I hear the ricocheting clatter emitted from the sweeper. It sounds like a nail in a blender.

Additionally, I have yet to figure out how to use these. I’ve tried. However, the children’s heads look like pin cushions when I’m finished. They give me a glare of disapproval and quickly resort to trying to do it themselves. Of course, if their mother's around they avoid asking for my help altogether - which is nice. When they do have to come to me, I have really tried to make them stick in the girls' hair but within 2 minutes of my attempt, they fall back out. The girls refuse to let me use tape to help matters so I basically just decline to try anymore.

These little pieces of metal have turned me into a big proponent of hats.

What is that?

As with most families, odd situations pop up in our house continually. People tend to believe that these things only happen to them, when in reality we all go through these experiences. At least I hope. Otherwise, our family is very odd.

The other day, I stepped in the shower and prior to turning on the water, I looked down to notice a brown smeary glob by my feet. Now, I didn’t have my contacts in at the time so my vision was blurry. I couldn’t make out what exactly I was looking at, so I stepped back out to retrieve my glasses.

No longer legally blind, I still saw just a smudged brown mess in our bathtub. The hairs on my neck stood up as I considered the possibilities of its origin. Without sounding too crass, the substance in question resembled what might be left behind from a bathing individual who had intestinal issues. With this thought, my own stomach churned a little bit.

The dark gooey matter didn’t rinse out when I turned on the shower. So, I opted to stand straddling it, careful to not step on it. I usually take long showers, but on this day I voluntarily sped up the process. I felt icky just sharing the same space with it. Had our tub been reduced to a poor man’s bidet? Our kids are past the potty training stage (ages, 4,6 and9) but the youngest child has had some incidents in the past that might suggest her possible guiltiness in this situation.(stories for another day)

I dressed and walked downstairs to the kitchen. My wife was busy cleaning up after breakfast. Before I had the chance to mention to her about the disturbing circumstances that I just witnessed, she provided some information.

“By the way, that is a chocolate chip in the bathtub,” she interjected matter-of-factly.

Momentarily, my mind eased a bit. She chuckled at my obvious expression of relief. With this revelation, I no longer needed to locate rubber gloves, ammonia, and bleach. However, her news also raised another question.

“Sooo, why is there a chocolate chip in our bathtub? That’s not exactly normal,” I contended.

Sadly, at that time she didn’t have an answer for that one.

The word on the street right now is that one of the kids had been eating a cup of chocolate chips as a snack. One fell on the ground and rather than throwing it away, perhaps into something called a "trash can", they chose to place it in the bathtub instead. Makes perfect sense, eh? Weird.

My wife just shrugged and continued her kitchen cleaning. I too shook my head and went on about my day. In this house, you kind of just learn to roll with things. Personally, I’ve also adopted a motto to live by in situations such as this.

WHEN IN DOUBT, DON’T TOUCH IT

Lydia

El Stupido

My kids ask many questions. Many, many questions. Unfortunately for me, these inquiries just sometimes serve as constant reminders of just how stupid I am. So, on occasion when one of my children asks a question that I do not know the correct answer to, I do the best that I can.

I lie.

To them I then sound smart and they leave the conversation satisfied. It's just good parenting. It's what we call in the parenting biz, "a win/win situation".

Anyhow, yesterday during a casual dialogue, my little girl asked me if I knew what "El Nino" was. I said, "Well heck yes I do."

Now, El Nino has been a household term for approximately 15 years now it seems. I probably should actually know what it is. I kind of do, but to explain it to somebody is another thing. So, I proceeded to inform her of the following...

"El Nino has to do with weather - mostly rain, the temperature of the ocean, climate changes and patterns, Mexico, and the number 9. It's very complicated, dear," I told her.

She looked noticeably confused. So was I. She didn't respond for a moment but I could see her mind working overtime. I thought for a second that I might actually get away with the load of nonsense I just fed her, but then she responded.

"The number 9? What? I don't understand, dad."

"Oh sure, 'El Nino' is Spanish for 'the nine'," was my response. I would have been okay had I not added the whole "number 9" part. Idiot.

Still obviously confused, she said, "But Dad, I thought the number nine in Spanish was 'nueve'?".

"Honey, go to your room. I think about nueve minutes should be sufficient."

Of course, I didn't actually send her to her room. I think making her head spin with serious concerns about her father's mental capacity was punishment enough.

She'll think twice before she poses a question to me again anytime soon.

Stay-At-Home Dad's observation #13

Here's a laundry tip in case you weren't already aware of it.

If one load of laundry takes approximately 3 hrs to dry, and it doesn't include a large amount of towels, check the lint trap.

The specimen shown in this picture is real. It also is now serving as a comforter on our bed.

Yikes.

Road Rage

On occasion I screw up as a parent. No, no, it's true. I have days when I'm less than perfect. As I mentioned in the previous post, we went to the zoo on Friday. On the way home, we ran into some heavy traffic which spurred my latest poor display of behavior.

Traffic had basically came to a very slow methodical pace. We were in the middle lane, keeping a car's length behind the person in front of us. To our right was a semi truck. I looked in the rear view mirror to see our children all asleep. I was fighting the notion to do the same given that my wife and I were both exhausted from our excursion.

As I looked out towards the semi, I noticed it was getting closer. I jerked to attention because I thought I had drifted toward it. I then figured out that I was not moving toward it, rather the truck had decided to change to our lane. The problem with this was that the enormous vehicle was going to run right into us.

We were forced into the left lane, and fortunately, the driver in that lane noticed the situation and made a complete stop allowing us room to transition over. I was furious. We were very close to being pinned under the trailer of the semi. What an idiot. The next chance I got I decided to share my criticism of the semi driver's abilities.

The passenger side window was down so I leaned over my wife's lap and yelled up to the rather burly man behind the wheel. I can't remember exactly what I said, but it felt good to say it. He in return shouted back at me, but the truck's loud engine drowned out his voice.

I like to think that he simply stated, "My apologies, good sir. You have every right to be upset with me. I do not know what I was thinking to force my way into your lane. You are an awesome driver and I am not. By the way, your minivan is sweet." However, by the accompanying gestures he was making, those words were nothing like what he said in reality.

The traffic tempo picked up and soon we were traveling at a normal speed. I was still fuming a little bit about our near death experience when I heard a tiny voice pipe up in the back and ask, "Daddy, why did you yell at that man in the truck?"

Crap.

My wife glanced at me with an amused look on her face. "Well, Daddy, why did you?" she said tauntingly.

Double crap.

"Well, dear," I said thoughtfully. "It's because that man driving the truck did something very dangerous that almost hurt us. I just let him know that I was not happy about it."

Silence.

I could see in the rear view mirror that she was really thinking hard about everything. I began to feel guilty. To be honest, not so much that I yelled at the idiot in the truck, but rather that my little girl witnessed it. Man, I really thought she was asleep.

I can sense when she is uncomfortable with certain things, and this was one of those moments I feared. I think my sudden burst of anger kind of freaked her out actually. She was entitled to a further explanation. Some sort of life lesson could be made out of this experience I thought. She needs to know that Daddy's behavior is not how you interact with other people. So I contemplated what I was going to say, hoping for wisdom in the situation. And then it came to me.

"Who wants ice cream?" I shouted.

Cheers erupted from the back of the van.

Problem solved. She never said another word about the idiot in the truck.

The zoo

Every once in awhile, my wife and I have a day when we feel like we are fantastic parents. Not often, but occasionally this is the case. Friday we had that satisfaction - we took our kids to the zoo.

The children thoroughly enjoyed the 6 hours we spent there. It was fun, but after hour #4, the magic starts to wear off and I start to lose interest. My ADD starts to kick in and I begin pondering such things a "I wonder what that animal would taste like grilled?" Mmmm....meat.

There were only a few animals that we didn't see. We hit all the major ones though. i.e. polar bears, elephants, tigers, lions, gorillas etc. There were a few highlights to the day of course. One of which, was that our youngest daughter voluntarily held a boa constrictor. A zoo employee was holding the snake, allowing people the opportunity to hold and pet it.(At least, I hope he was a zoo employee. Now that I think about it, I did think it was odd he was stationed in the parking lot sitting in the back of his van that had a Wizard mural painted on the side of it. It seemed unprofessional of him to not wear a shirt as well. hmmm...)

She hopped right up to him and allowed the man to put the snake on her lap. My wife and I both looked at each other in amazement. She's so unpredictable. I was very proud of her bravery. I, on the other hand, would not do that. You see, I hate snakes, they scare the bicripson out of me. The zoo employee informed us that the snake was harmless to humans, and assured us that most snakes do not pose a danger to humans. Whatever, man. If I see a snake around my house, I will scream like a little girl and if I have a shovel, I will chop its head off. He said that people kill snakes out of ignorance. If so, consider me an idiot. Ick.

The other highlight of the day occurred at the weasel display. My wife said to me, "Have you seen what's going on in there?" as she pointed to the animals behind the glass. I looked up to see 2 creatures, ummm, "wrestling" with each other. The children apparently accepted the explanation that the weasels were "wrestling" as they eventually moved on to the next exhibit. That was a lot of nature happening in there. It was funny watching people's reaction to the "wrestling match". Adults would stroll by, trying to figure out exactly was going on with the tangled pulsating clump of grey fur, and once the realty of the situation hit them, their eyes would widen and uneasy laughter soon followed. Kids were pointing with quizzical looks. Whispers and giggles filled the room. Parents hurriedly ushered their children past the amorous activities. The scene would've made a great video for Captain and Tennille's "Muskrat Love".

6 hours at the zoo is plenty. Some might even say 3 hours too long. Overall, the kids loved it and my wife and I enjoyed ourselves too. We felt like we had successfully performed our parental duties that day. Lord knows there are many days when we fail miserably.

At the end of the day, we recapped the kids' favorite animals. The 4 year-old stated she really liked the owl("coz it's head turned all the way around"), the other 2 really liked the condor ("because it flapped it's wings really wide"), and they all liked the zebras for some strange reason. Personally, I view them as just uniquely painted horses.

As for me, I liked the polar bears. For being so huge, they really are graceful creatures, especially as they swim laps in the water. Also, the gorillas are incredible animals that are somewhat mesmerizing to watch. Both were very impressive.

But neither are nearly as entertaining as weasels.

Hair gum

Just out of curiosity, does anybody out there have a home remedy for removing gum from hair? I have one, but it involves a pair of scissors, a bowl of ice cream, and convincing a 4 year-old to not tell her mother what happened.

It would've been one thing had it been her gum. Without going into specifics, I'll just say that what seemed at the time to be a funny spontaneous joke, quickly turned into not being funny as well as a "there's no way I should be a parent" moment.

* The usual Friday post will probably not happen this week since we will be spending the day at the zoo. Instead, I hope to add to the blog on Saturday, undoubtedly talking about our family's day trip.

Joyce family

Last evening I had the chance to photograph the Joyce family. We had a beautiful location to shoot at and from a photographer's standpoint it doesn't get much better than that. In addition to being very photogenic, the kids were incredible on their dirt bike & 4 wheeler. I'm glad they didn't offer to allow me to try one out because I fear I might have ended up in the pond.