May she enjoy this day, and another hundred birthdays in the years to come!
Published writer, compulsive reader, Old School Whovian, Match Game enthusiast, NKOTB fan, data hoarder, and - surprisingly, given that list - married with four kids. Welcome to my take on life, fatherhood, entertainment, and whatever strikes my fancy. Enjoy!
Showing posts with label Lump. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Lump. Show all posts
Friday, August 7, 2009
Happy 2nd Birthday Ginger!
Today is the 2nd, joyous birthday of the one and only Feral Child, aka Lump aka Baby, better known online as Ginger Slap.
May she enjoy this day, and another hundred birthdays in the years to come!
May she enjoy this day, and another hundred birthdays in the years to come!
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
A milestone for Ginger
This morning, a little after 10:30, Ginger peed in the toilet for the first time. Celebrations throughout the Slapinions household have begun, tempered by the fact that there will be 80 more accidents before she's adequately trained.
*And she still threw her diaper overnight, which means we'll have to start putting them on backwards at night so she can't reach the tabs.
*And she still threw her diaper overnight, which means we'll have to start putting them on backwards at night so she can't reach the tabs.
Monday, July 13, 2009
How Much is that Baby in the Window?
In our living room there is a large bay window looks out into the street. It is one of Ginger's favorite pastimes to climb atop the loveseat by that window and just watch the cars, people, and birds that pass by our house.
There's no danger to the lass, as there's nowhere for her to fall, but I always feel bad when I see her in the window. What do strangers think? Do they walk by and think "The poor girl must be so sad. OMG, where are the parents?"
I should point out she's usually clothed, and the diaper only ensemble was a fluke.
I LOVE this last shot.
There's no danger to the lass, as there's nowhere for her to fall, but I always feel bad when I see her in the window. What do strangers think? Do they walk by and think "The poor girl must be so sad. OMG, where are the parents?"
I should point out she's usually clothed, and the diaper only ensemble was a fluke.
I LOVE this last shot.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
A kind of sad, melancholy post this fine early Tues AM
Er, before I get emails saying "Where's the movie post?" - I deleted the review that posted around 1am this morning. It wasn't supposed to run until later in the year, and so I rescheduled it to correct for the error.
* * * *
In the early AM on Friday Milwaukee was hit by torrential rain and many areas flooded, including my lovely basement. It wasn't too bad this time, maybe an inch, inch and a half in parts, but I called into work the next morning to complete the cleanup, something I've done only twice this decade.
I think I have the source of the water now pegged. When we bought the house the basement featured a dirt and cobblestone floor (you read that right - mainly dirt with the occasional brick tossed in). Now the basement is wall to wall concrete. Except . . . I realized that the area under the basement stairs, which is hidden by a wood wall, still has the original flooring. That *seems* to be the entry point for the water. I'll have to attack that area soon, as I'd like to actually enjoy a summer storm for once.
Saturday was ok, and I worked most of the day anyhow. Lisa took Smiley and Ginger to Foxbrook lake and spent the day there, enjoying the sun and the water. The only real bad news? My car overheated.
Sunday was Father's Day, and I got my wish for quiet, but in the end I wasted it (by my own choice) doing nothing more constructive than watching Band of Brothers. Today I shelled out $225 for a brake repair job on the van, $225 I don't have to spare. Oh, and my central air seems to have taken a dump, just as temperatures in Milwaukee finally reach summer norms.
But other than that, and you know, thinning hair/obesity/poverty/Democrat in the White House, all is well.
In the rare good news department, I've gotten an assignment from the Journal to write a column at the start of July. Yay me.
Alright, enough of this pityfest. I'll be back with happy thoughts tomorrow.
* * * *
In the early AM on Friday Milwaukee was hit by torrential rain and many areas flooded, including my lovely basement. It wasn't too bad this time, maybe an inch, inch and a half in parts, but I called into work the next morning to complete the cleanup, something I've done only twice this decade.
I think I have the source of the water now pegged. When we bought the house the basement featured a dirt and cobblestone floor (you read that right - mainly dirt with the occasional brick tossed in). Now the basement is wall to wall concrete. Except . . . I realized that the area under the basement stairs, which is hidden by a wood wall, still has the original flooring. That *seems* to be the entry point for the water. I'll have to attack that area soon, as I'd like to actually enjoy a summer storm for once.
Saturday was ok, and I worked most of the day anyhow. Lisa took Smiley and Ginger to Foxbrook lake and spent the day there, enjoying the sun and the water. The only real bad news? My car overheated.
Sunday was Father's Day, and I got my wish for quiet, but in the end I wasted it (by my own choice) doing nothing more constructive than watching Band of Brothers. Today I shelled out $225 for a brake repair job on the van, $225 I don't have to spare. Oh, and my central air seems to have taken a dump, just as temperatures in Milwaukee finally reach summer norms.
But other than that, and you know, thinning hair/obesity/poverty/Democrat in the White House, all is well.
In the rare good news department, I've gotten an assignment from the Journal to write a column at the start of July. Yay me.
Alright, enough of this pityfest. I'll be back with happy thoughts tomorrow.
Monday, June 15, 2009
Pizza Hut with Smiley and Ginger
Smiley came home from school one day with a certificate for a free pizza from Pizza Hut, some kind of reward for reading. Odd that, as the boy can't read a lick. But, free food is free food, and one day when the older girls were out and about I took Smiley and Ginger to claim his prize.
Here's some pics from that day.
As an extra-special Bonus pic, here's one of Ginger goofing around with a Santa hat.
Here's some pics from that day.
As an extra-special Bonus pic, here's one of Ginger goofing around with a Santa hat.
Monday, June 1, 2009
Ginger the Destroyer
On this blog I used to call Smiley "Maker of Trouble and Mayhem", and it was true. He was far more mischievous than our oldest girls, and the cause of many a headache. In retrospect we had it easy. Ginger is, by general consensus, the most destructive baby in history.
She is a feral child. If she needs to be changed she'll get a diaper and lay down at your feet. If she is thirsty she will bring you a cup (or steal your drink). If she is hungry, she will bring you the food she wants (if she has not ripped it open herself).
For that reason I have always been grateful that she was too chicken to climb out of her crib on her own. In fact, I planned to spell out my thanks in writing here, just a few days ago.
And then it happened. I woke up and found Ginger downstairs alone. She had woken up before the rest of the family, climbed out of her crib, gone down the stairs, and destroyed our home.
This is what she did. There is no exaggeration here. No enhancement for dramatic effect. This is all her.
She tipped over a chair.
She dumped a box of Rice Krispies all over the floor.
She opened a bottle of vegetable oil and trailed it around the kitchen table before abandoning it and letting it pool out.
She ripped open a bag of popcorn seeds in the pantry.
She upended a half-empty glass of juice into Lisa's purse.
She knocked glasses and plates to the floor.
Oh man, were we furious. I wiggled my finger in her face and called her a naughty baby, the worst baby ever. She took it without blinking. Lisa joined in, telling her she'd spend the morning in the playpen if she didn't behave. Ginger's response? She mimicked me, waving a finger at Lisa and saying "NO!".
In the playpen she went, the first time in months we've even set the thing up. She tried and failed to climb out, then spent the morning playing with her toes or crying to be let out.
I think listening to that was more of a punishment for us than for her.
I surveyed the family and the consensus is, yeah, she's a crazy kid. My Dad said she yanked all his potted plants out of their containers. "I don't remember any of the grandkids being that destructive," he said - and he has seven.
All this, and we're still months shy of reaching the terrible twos. God help us all.
She is a feral child. If she needs to be changed she'll get a diaper and lay down at your feet. If she is thirsty she will bring you a cup (or steal your drink). If she is hungry, she will bring you the food she wants (if she has not ripped it open herself).
For that reason I have always been grateful that she was too chicken to climb out of her crib on her own. In fact, I planned to spell out my thanks in writing here, just a few days ago.
And then it happened. I woke up and found Ginger downstairs alone. She had woken up before the rest of the family, climbed out of her crib, gone down the stairs, and destroyed our home.
This is what she did. There is no exaggeration here. No enhancement for dramatic effect. This is all her.
She tipped over a chair.
She dumped a box of Rice Krispies all over the floor.
She opened a bottle of vegetable oil and trailed it around the kitchen table before abandoning it and letting it pool out.
She ripped open a bag of popcorn seeds in the pantry.
She upended a half-empty glass of juice into Lisa's purse.
She knocked glasses and plates to the floor.
Oh man, were we furious. I wiggled my finger in her face and called her a naughty baby, the worst baby ever. She took it without blinking. Lisa joined in, telling her she'd spend the morning in the playpen if she didn't behave. Ginger's response? She mimicked me, waving a finger at Lisa and saying "NO!".
In the playpen she went, the first time in months we've even set the thing up. She tried and failed to climb out, then spent the morning playing with her toes or crying to be let out.
I think listening to that was more of a punishment for us than for her.
I surveyed the family and the consensus is, yeah, she's a crazy kid. My Dad said she yanked all his potted plants out of their containers. "I don't remember any of the grandkids being that destructive," he said - and he has seven.
All this, and we're still months shy of reaching the terrible twos. God help us all.
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Quote of the Day
It's a beautiful day here in Milwaukee, warm and sunny but not so hot that you break into a sweat (unless you want to). Overall its been very low-key, and I've spent most of it driving my sister around town as payment for babysitting. The only exciting moment so far today (other than The Match Game - natch!)was when the mailman arrived hours early and caught a glimpse of Lisa's boobs as she changed.
* * * *
Well then. I had intended this post as a nice, family friendly collection of misc. items that don't warrant a post of their own. Eh, that won't work anyway, as I'm about to have to go chase the baby around the kitchen. Briefly:
1. Ginger is now babbling constantly, has learned the word 'no' and practices it often, can say Smiley and LuLu's names, and constructed a three word sentence the other day in her crib: "Dada baby up!"
2. I replaced YaYa's fish. At 1 am last night she woke me up as she attempted to keep Angelcakes from raiding the fishbowl on her dresser. When she kicked Angel out of her room - robbing her of her prized sleeping position next to YaYa on the bed - the cat was horrified and cried nonstop. In the end both YaYa and Angel had to sleep in our bed, with the fish safely locked alone in her room.
"Dude, he was scoping out your t**s!" I told her.
"Was he?"
"Yeah"
"Good," she said. "Nice to know they're still popular."
* * * *
Well then. I had intended this post as a nice, family friendly collection of misc. items that don't warrant a post of their own. Eh, that won't work anyway, as I'm about to have to go chase the baby around the kitchen. Briefly:
1. Ginger is now babbling constantly, has learned the word 'no' and practices it often, can say Smiley and LuLu's names, and constructed a three word sentence the other day in her crib: "Dada baby up!"
2. I replaced YaYa's fish. At 1 am last night she woke me up as she attempted to keep Angelcakes from raiding the fishbowl on her dresser. When she kicked Angel out of her room - robbing her of her prized sleeping position next to YaYa on the bed - the cat was horrified and cried nonstop. In the end both YaYa and Angel had to sleep in our bed, with the fish safely locked alone in her room.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Some very well dressed kids (for a change)
Saturday May 2nd was our niece/Godchild's First Communion. Here are some photos of my kids in the lead-up to the event (LuLu had already joined her cousin en route to the church). In the hour before the Mass, YaYa took it upon herself to walk Ginger up and down are block to keep her busy. A rare volunteer moment for our oldest, but one that was greatly appreciated as we struggled to get out the door.
Man they're cute!
Man they're cute!
Monday, April 27, 2009
Pics of Lump's First Haircut. Sorta.
A few readers (and let's face facts, that's all I have, God luv 'em - a few readers) have asked for pictures of Lump/Ginger's first haircut.
It aintagonna happen, because Papa Slap was at work when the event took place and Lisa is fond of saying "Forget the camera. Record it in your memories". Well and good, but memories alone don't make a blog post, so you're all out of luck. Sorry Future Lump/Ginger.
But I did scrounge up some pictures of YaYa's first ever haircut, taken with an antique digital camera way back circa 2003-2004. The exact date is documented in print editions of her baby book.
Close your eyes and pretend it's Ginger. I promise I won't tell people you cheated.
It aintagonna happen, because Papa Slap was at work when the event took place and Lisa is fond of saying "Forget the camera. Record it in your memories". Well and good, but memories alone don't make a blog post, so you're all out of luck. Sorry Future Lump/Ginger.
But I did scrounge up some pictures of YaYa's first ever haircut, taken with an antique digital camera way back circa 2003-2004. The exact date is documented in print editions of her baby book.
Close your eyes and pretend it's Ginger. I promise I won't tell people you cheated.
Friday, April 24, 2009
Boring family stuff
A good day today. I didn't eat a single calorie, depriving my stomach of any opportunity to rebel, which allowed me to make it through the work day in relative comfort. A good thing that, as I had the opportunity to speak with a 91 year old customer,born in 1918 - "Nearly ninety-one," she was careful to correct me. "My birthday isn't for awhile yet." She's still driving her own car, writing out her own checks and living life on her terms.
"You sure don't look ninety-one," I said.
"Well, I wouldn't feel it either if I hadn't broken my damn hip last winter."
After work I took advantage of a beautiful 80 degree day to don shorts and break out the bikes. Sadly a leak in the shed led to my bike getting a few spots of rust over its first winter. Still, she did me proud on a 10 minute ride around the neighborhood with YaYa and Ginger. [Lu and Smiley were scattered among the grandparents] The ex-Lump had no recollection of the bike trailer and sat bewildered the whole time, but she'll be a happy passenger in no time.
Now I'd been texted at work with news that the backyard was overrun with gnats. I found this to be a slight exaggeration, but there does seem to be a bit of an issue. So I broke out the ol' standby, a bowl of sugar water with a coating of cooking oil across the top. Bugs come to taste the sweetness and get trapped by the oil.
Once again, despite a decade of experience in the field, people rose up to naysay. To which I respond: folks, by nightfall the dang bowl had more bugs in it than Windows Vista.
After a dinner with Lisa on her break at work, the kids and I hit a local church's basement rummage sale. For ~$4 total we picked up a mass book, a Scrabble dictionary, three decks of cards, a wooden turtle from Jamaica, a clothes steamer, a book light, a wooden jewelry box, a 3-D Titanic puzzle, a Brain Quest trivia game, a childrens book, a wooden frog that you can make croak by rubbing a stick across its spine, and a great camera case worth about $30 alone.
What a deal!
From there we returned home and YaYa and I watched Call of the Wild on DVD. Call of the Wild was one of the first (abridged) classics YaYa read.
"Will you watch it with me Daddy?"
"I really don't want to."
"Why not?"
The real reason was I was tired and sweaty and yearned for a shower. But what I said was: "Because I never finished the book and I don't want to ruin the ending. Someday maybe I'll finish it."
"You can read my copy upstairs."
"Naw, I want to read the adult version."
"Hrumph. Well, it does have 107 pages you know. But I guess that doesn't count."
Checkmate. So we watched Call of the Wild, which turned out to be a sequel called "Foxfire" anyhow. It was ok, and I certainly enjoyed cuddling with YaYa.
Afterwards, when Lisa got home, she quizzed YaYa on the BrainQuest questions and YaYa aced darn near all of them. I gave her a big kiss on the forehead.
"Truly, you are my daughter." I said.
"Half your daughter," Lisa said. "She's much too cool to be your clone."
"You sure don't look ninety-one," I said.
"Well, I wouldn't feel it either if I hadn't broken my damn hip last winter."
After work I took advantage of a beautiful 80 degree day to don shorts and break out the bikes. Sadly a leak in the shed led to my bike getting a few spots of rust over its first winter. Still, she did me proud on a 10 minute ride around the neighborhood with YaYa and Ginger. [Lu and Smiley were scattered among the grandparents] The ex-Lump had no recollection of the bike trailer and sat bewildered the whole time, but she'll be a happy passenger in no time.
Now I'd been texted at work with news that the backyard was overrun with gnats. I found this to be a slight exaggeration, but there does seem to be a bit of an issue. So I broke out the ol' standby, a bowl of sugar water with a coating of cooking oil across the top. Bugs come to taste the sweetness and get trapped by the oil.
Once again, despite a decade of experience in the field, people rose up to naysay. To which I respond: folks, by nightfall the dang bowl had more bugs in it than Windows Vista.
After a dinner with Lisa on her break at work, the kids and I hit a local church's basement rummage sale. For ~$4 total we picked up a mass book, a Scrabble dictionary, three decks of cards, a wooden turtle from Jamaica, a clothes steamer, a book light, a wooden jewelry box, a 3-D Titanic puzzle, a Brain Quest trivia game, a childrens book, a wooden frog that you can make croak by rubbing a stick across its spine, and a great camera case worth about $30 alone.
What a deal!
From there we returned home and YaYa and I watched Call of the Wild on DVD. Call of the Wild was one of the first (abridged) classics YaYa read.
"Will you watch it with me Daddy?"
"I really don't want to."
"Why not?"
The real reason was I was tired and sweaty and yearned for a shower. But what I said was: "Because I never finished the book and I don't want to ruin the ending. Someday maybe I'll finish it."
"You can read my copy upstairs."
"Naw, I want to read the adult version."
"Hrumph. Well, it does have 107 pages you know. But I guess that doesn't count."
Checkmate. So we watched Call of the Wild, which turned out to be a sequel called "Foxfire" anyhow. It was ok, and I certainly enjoyed cuddling with YaYa.
Afterwards, when Lisa got home, she quizzed YaYa on the BrainQuest questions and YaYa aced darn near all of them. I gave her a big kiss on the forehead.
"Truly, you are my daughter." I said.
"Half your daughter," Lisa said. "She's much too cool to be your clone."
Monday, April 20, 2009
Loooong and meandering Post
A grade-school friend of mine was ordained as a Priest this past weekend, and it's about time. I remember as kids he'd recite every word of the Mass along with the Priest, as if he was conducting the service himself. I haven't spoken to him in ten years, so I'm not sure why he delayed enlisting, but all the power to him. Congrats Brad!
* * * *
To be honest I'm a little jealous of Brad. As a kid part of me wanted to become a Priest, and I remember playing 'Mass' with my sisters and using the piano bench as an altar. But I knew from an early age it wasn't for me. I've inherited a foul mouth, for one, and I also - let me be blunt - have a decently robust sex drive. During puberty I'd spend a good portion of the Mass staring at the ass of the girls ahead of me as they knelt in prayer. That . . . didn't bode well for celibacy.
* * * *
Regarding my last post, I think I'm going to give the guy the benefit of the doubt and say that his statement, while quoted in the correct context, came off more bigoted than he intended. Maybe he's Catholic himself, or was, and was one of the people scarred by the abuse scandals; who knows?
It is creepy that he sought to mail it to my home. That isn't cool, although again I think he was harmless.
* * * *
You want real religious bigotry? A guy came into my work wearing a t-shirt that read "So many Christians - so few lions".
You are free to believe what you like, but can you imagine the uproar it would cause if he wore a shirt joking about violence towards Jews? Because of the Holocaust he wouldn't dare (instead, he'd no doubt moan about Israel; I do believe many of the people who hate on that state do so as an outlet for their anti-Semitism). Worse yet, can you imagine if he wore a shirt preaching violence against Islam, especially in the mideast?
He wouldn't - because they'd cut off his head. Literally.
And yet I'm willing to bet he doesn't think twice about the value of the First Amendment that grants him his freedom. It's a shame.
* * * *
Speaking of Israel, a word on Hitler, as today was the bitter anniversary of his birth. He was a monster. Period. Why we need to create more reasons to hate the man than those amply provided by WWII is beyond me, but I've seen more than one source in the last few days that sought to do just that.
I picked up a book that took grade school age photos of Hitler and sought to extrapolate intent and evil and malignancy in the eyes of a little kid . Crap like that minimizes the true breadth of his evil and twists it all into a cheap horror film plot. Think The Omen. The book was promptly returned to the shelf.
Then there are several TV specials that seek to establish, somehow/someway, that Hitler was of Jewish descent. I do not comprehend this line of reasoning. They aren't doing it to reason out a new and comprehensive physiological portrait of the man. No, they're doing it because in a twisted way it somehow makes him 'less' than he was, allegedly because if he was indeed of Jewish descent then he was a hypocrite on top of it all. I think we can all agree hypocrisy was the least of his crimes. Isn't that pursuit a dangerous, if unintended slippery slope? Aren't these people saying, in effect, "Hey, guess what? Not only was he an a*hole, but it turns out he was a Jew too! Can you believe that?"
What does it matter??
Maybe I'm too sensitive on the subject. I don't know.
* * * *
One last WWII thing that ticks me off: ignoring Stalin's ills and painting his USSR as a besieged, noble country that rallied to stifle Nazism. Bullshit. Hitler killed millions and dragged the world into war. Easily, easily one of the top three human beings of the century. But Stalin was right up there, and unlike his one-time buddy Adolf, Joe went merrily committing mass murder for decades. Millions were murdered under his rule and few people seem to care, perhaps - and I'll grant this is dark - but perhaps simply because he never got around to waging war against American soldiers and grabbing the media's attention.
And uh, 'poor' Russia not only had a friendship pact with Germany, they invaded Poland in concert with Hitler.
* * * *
Allegedly a true story of WWII, but probably apocryphal: we of course bit our tongue about all those nasty points and supplied the Soviet Union with anything and everything they needed to fight Germany, as they were the only nation capable of bleeding Germany dry through raw numbers. When I say anything and everything I mean exactly that, right down to birth control. The Russians, as a macho snub against the Americans, requested condoms that measured eighteen inches long.
The Americans promptly delivered them as requested. Across each crate was stamped:
Condoms: size Medium
* * * *
In the last few days we marked the tenth anniversary of the Columbine shootings. When it happened I was working third shift. I remember on the night of the attack/early the next morning the newspaper guy came in and dropped off Journal's with the news splashed across the front page. I'd slept through the day itself, never hearing so much as a whisper about the attack.
* * * *
Let's end a bleak post with some happy thoughts: while I was at work Monday Lisa took Ginger for her first ever haircut. She did great and didn't fuss a bit :)
* * * *
To be honest I'm a little jealous of Brad. As a kid part of me wanted to become a Priest, and I remember playing 'Mass' with my sisters and using the piano bench as an altar. But I knew from an early age it wasn't for me. I've inherited a foul mouth, for one, and I also - let me be blunt - have a decently robust sex drive. During puberty I'd spend a good portion of the Mass staring at the ass of the girls ahead of me as they knelt in prayer. That . . . didn't bode well for celibacy.
* * * *
Regarding my last post, I think I'm going to give the guy the benefit of the doubt and say that his statement, while quoted in the correct context, came off more bigoted than he intended. Maybe he's Catholic himself, or was, and was one of the people scarred by the abuse scandals; who knows?
It is creepy that he sought to mail it to my home. That isn't cool, although again I think he was harmless.
* * * *
You want real religious bigotry? A guy came into my work wearing a t-shirt that read "So many Christians - so few lions".
You are free to believe what you like, but can you imagine the uproar it would cause if he wore a shirt joking about violence towards Jews? Because of the Holocaust he wouldn't dare (instead, he'd no doubt moan about Israel; I do believe many of the people who hate on that state do so as an outlet for their anti-Semitism). Worse yet, can you imagine if he wore a shirt preaching violence against Islam, especially in the mideast?
He wouldn't - because they'd cut off his head. Literally.
And yet I'm willing to bet he doesn't think twice about the value of the First Amendment that grants him his freedom. It's a shame.
* * * *
Speaking of Israel, a word on Hitler, as today was the bitter anniversary of his birth. He was a monster. Period. Why we need to create more reasons to hate the man than those amply provided by WWII is beyond me, but I've seen more than one source in the last few days that sought to do just that.
I picked up a book that took grade school age photos of Hitler and sought to extrapolate intent and evil and malignancy in the eyes of a little kid . Crap like that minimizes the true breadth of his evil and twists it all into a cheap horror film plot. Think The Omen. The book was promptly returned to the shelf.
Then there are several TV specials that seek to establish, somehow/someway, that Hitler was of Jewish descent. I do not comprehend this line of reasoning. They aren't doing it to reason out a new and comprehensive physiological portrait of the man. No, they're doing it because in a twisted way it somehow makes him 'less' than he was, allegedly because if he was indeed of Jewish descent then he was a hypocrite on top of it all. I think we can all agree hypocrisy was the least of his crimes. Isn't that pursuit a dangerous, if unintended slippery slope? Aren't these people saying, in effect, "Hey, guess what? Not only was he an a*hole, but it turns out he was a Jew too! Can you believe that?"
What does it matter??
Maybe I'm too sensitive on the subject. I don't know.
* * * *
One last WWII thing that ticks me off: ignoring Stalin's ills and painting his USSR as a besieged, noble country that rallied to stifle Nazism. Bullshit. Hitler killed millions and dragged the world into war. Easily, easily one of the top three human beings of the century. But Stalin was right up there, and unlike his one-time buddy Adolf, Joe went merrily committing mass murder for decades. Millions were murdered under his rule and few people seem to care, perhaps - and I'll grant this is dark - but perhaps simply because he never got around to waging war against American soldiers and grabbing the media's attention.
And uh, 'poor' Russia not only had a friendship pact with Germany, they invaded Poland in concert with Hitler.
* * * *
Allegedly a true story of WWII, but probably apocryphal: we of course bit our tongue about all those nasty points and supplied the Soviet Union with anything and everything they needed to fight Germany, as they were the only nation capable of bleeding Germany dry through raw numbers. When I say anything and everything I mean exactly that, right down to birth control. The Russians, as a macho snub against the Americans, requested condoms that measured eighteen inches long.
The Americans promptly delivered them as requested. Across each crate was stamped:
Condoms: size Medium
* * * *
In the last few days we marked the tenth anniversary of the Columbine shootings. When it happened I was working third shift. I remember on the night of the attack/early the next morning the newspaper guy came in and dropped off Journal's with the news splashed across the front page. I'd slept through the day itself, never hearing so much as a whisper about the attack.
* * * *
Let's end a bleak post with some happy thoughts: while I was at work Monday Lisa took Ginger for her first ever haircut. She did great and didn't fuss a bit :)
Saturday, April 4, 2009
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
My 35th Birthday
Wow, it's been more than a week since my last post and the absence seemed . . soothing.
My birthday was very nice and relaxing. As usual my Mom called me at midnight to welcome the day. In the morning I went to work where I was greeted by a lot of sincere good cheer. Afterwards Lisa treated me and the two oldest girls to dinner at Bucca Di Beppo's downtown, where we enjoyed a great Italian meal.
[sidenote: Here's Smiley on the 18th, on his way to a class trip to the zoo.]
My parents bought me two canvas, zippered book covers (one for hardcovers and another for paperbacks), a wonderful blue Mighty Bright telescoping LED book light with AC adapter, and some cash to pick up a book on shorthand (which I've always wanted to learn). My wife's stepmother, before she moved back home, bought me two pair of slippers.
In addition to the dinner Lisa got me a black leather missal for Mass. And from the kids: a hug and kiss from each.
* * * *
The day ended poorly, however, when at ten at night we were forced to have one of our cats put to sleep. Not 'our' cat, actually, but the one my sister has had us watch for months. It came downstairs shaking and in bad shape. No surprise, as I'd advised my sister for weeks that the end was near. The final diagnosis: cancer.
I'm not sure I believe the vet, as in my experience they're the equal to meteorologists in accuracy, but it was time for the cat to be put down.
* * * *
On Saturday, with my paycheck burning a microscopic hole in my pocket, I FINALLY took YaYa to see Coraline 3D. Afterwards we went shopping and then, with Lump, the three of us hit the observation park of the airport before jotting over to Nite Owl for dinner.
I then took them to the park before heading home. Later that night YaYa and I hunkered down to watch The Mummy together on pay-per-view, staying up late to finish the movie.
YaYa quote of the night, as one character in The Mummy ran blindly into a brick wall. "Ouch. He's off the team."
My birthday was very nice and relaxing. As usual my Mom called me at midnight to welcome the day. In the morning I went to work where I was greeted by a lot of sincere good cheer. Afterwards Lisa treated me and the two oldest girls to dinner at Bucca Di Beppo's downtown, where we enjoyed a great Italian meal.
[sidenote: Here's Smiley on the 18th, on his way to a class trip to the zoo.]
My parents bought me two canvas, zippered book covers (one for hardcovers and another for paperbacks), a wonderful blue Mighty Bright telescoping LED book light with AC adapter, and some cash to pick up a book on shorthand (which I've always wanted to learn). My wife's stepmother, before she moved back home, bought me two pair of slippers.
In addition to the dinner Lisa got me a black leather missal for Mass. And from the kids: a hug and kiss from each.
* * * *
The day ended poorly, however, when at ten at night we were forced to have one of our cats put to sleep. Not 'our' cat, actually, but the one my sister has had us watch for months. It came downstairs shaking and in bad shape. No surprise, as I'd advised my sister for weeks that the end was near. The final diagnosis: cancer.
I'm not sure I believe the vet, as in my experience they're the equal to meteorologists in accuracy, but it was time for the cat to be put down.
* * * *
On Saturday, with my paycheck burning a microscopic hole in my pocket, I FINALLY took YaYa to see Coraline 3D. Afterwards we went shopping and then, with Lump, the three of us hit the observation park of the airport before jotting over to Nite Owl for dinner.
I then took them to the park before heading home. Later that night YaYa and I hunkered down to watch The Mummy together on pay-per-view, staying up late to finish the movie.
YaYa quote of the night, as one character in The Mummy ran blindly into a brick wall. "Ouch. He's off the team."
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
This and That as I wait for Lisa
A slight change of plans. Lisa and my sister have decided to go late-night shopping again, leaving my American Idol plans on hold. How will I fill the time? Why, the way I mentioned under 'ways you relax' on that application earlier: by blogging.
My wife's step-mother was able to move back home yesterday, thirteen days after her arrival with us. By the end Lisa was exhausted, but I was pretty comfortable. Unlike Lisa I wasn't a child when I met her step-mom. I'm largely the same Danny she was introduced to in 1995, and so I bear no burden of trying to shake off a quarter century old first impression made in childhood. Nor did I have to aid her in any personal grooming, which Lisa did each day. Lord knows that can wear a person down.
I'm glad to have my couch back, but she was good company. I certainly think it was a good thing for her relationship with the kids, and vice versa.
* * * * *
As my upcoming 35th birthday approached, I decided to go in for a physical. I don't consciously avoid them, but when I thought about it it had been five years or more since my last one (note: that's code for ten years) Time to bite the bullet.
So: Kidney, thyroid and liver functions are good. My cholesterol is 106, but my 'good' version is a bit low. Blood pressure surprisingly good. I'm obese (really? Hadn't noticed doc) but lost three pounds between the day of the blood draw and the follow-up a few weeks later.
I have flat feet - my Dad was always grateful, saying it'd keep me out of the draft -and possible bone spurs in my constantly aching left foot. X-Rays await, but I have to find the time first.
About that blood pressure reading. Every time I go to the doctor they take a second look at my weight and shake off the blood pressure results as improbable. This time they felt compelled to take it three times before raising their eyebrows and jotting it down. Never fear medical professionals: the blood pressure might be good, but the ol' brain is still screwed up enough to put $ in your pockets for years to come.
* * *
Last Tuesday LuLu read a petition during Mass and aced it. Good job girl!
* * * *
Both LuLu and Smiley won't go to bed unless I read to them now, which is a great sign of future readers. Meanwhile YaYa has begun a list of every book she's ever read, just like her old man.
* * * * * *
My wife's step-mom yesterday: "I can see why you call her Lump. The girl can't stay on her feet for more than a minute without cracking her head."
At which point, I kid you not, the Lump took her cue and fell to the floor. She bumped her head on the ottoman, rubbed it briefly, then got up and walked away.
Lump's trouble by the way, a true YaYa Jr. She'll dance half the day away, especially if you say "Do the [Lump], Do the [Lump]" but the rest of the time she's busy destroying. She stuck a paintbrush in the glue bottle, upended a box of cereal, tried to play in the toilet, tossed toys down the stairs, spilled soda, hit Smiley, threw a sippy cup 1000 times, spit food at people and giggled, and upended a plate of food.
All that, my readers, in one afternoon.
My wife's step-mother was able to move back home yesterday, thirteen days after her arrival with us. By the end Lisa was exhausted, but I was pretty comfortable. Unlike Lisa I wasn't a child when I met her step-mom. I'm largely the same Danny she was introduced to in 1995, and so I bear no burden of trying to shake off a quarter century old first impression made in childhood. Nor did I have to aid her in any personal grooming, which Lisa did each day. Lord knows that can wear a person down.
I'm glad to have my couch back, but she was good company. I certainly think it was a good thing for her relationship with the kids, and vice versa.
* * * * *
As my upcoming 35th birthday approached, I decided to go in for a physical. I don't consciously avoid them, but when I thought about it it had been five years or more since my last one (note: that's code for ten years) Time to bite the bullet.
So: Kidney, thyroid and liver functions are good. My cholesterol is 106, but my 'good' version is a bit low. Blood pressure surprisingly good. I'm obese (really? Hadn't noticed doc) but lost three pounds between the day of the blood draw and the follow-up a few weeks later.
I have flat feet - my Dad was always grateful, saying it'd keep me out of the draft -and possible bone spurs in my constantly aching left foot. X-Rays await, but I have to find the time first.
About that blood pressure reading. Every time I go to the doctor they take a second look at my weight and shake off the blood pressure results as improbable. This time they felt compelled to take it three times before raising their eyebrows and jotting it down. Never fear medical professionals: the blood pressure might be good, but the ol' brain is still screwed up enough to put $ in your pockets for years to come.
* * *
Last Tuesday LuLu read a petition during Mass and aced it. Good job girl!
* * * *
Both LuLu and Smiley won't go to bed unless I read to them now, which is a great sign of future readers. Meanwhile YaYa has begun a list of every book she's ever read, just like her old man.
* * * * * *
My wife's step-mom yesterday: "I can see why you call her Lump. The girl can't stay on her feet for more than a minute without cracking her head."
At which point, I kid you not, the Lump took her cue and fell to the floor. She bumped her head on the ottoman, rubbed it briefly, then got up and walked away.
Lump's trouble by the way, a true YaYa Jr. She'll dance half the day away, especially if you say "Do the [Lump], Do the [Lump]" but the rest of the time she's busy destroying. She stuck a paintbrush in the glue bottle, upended a box of cereal, tried to play in the toilet, tossed toys down the stairs, spilled soda, hit Smiley, threw a sippy cup 1000 times, spit food at people and giggled, and upended a plate of food.
All that, my readers, in one afternoon.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
This and That
I finished out February with a bad case of bronchitis coupled with a wicked sore throat. It made work (and home) a tad agonizing, but that seemed to have passed - until this morning, when I woke up with Version 2.0. Lucky me :)
Naw, I think it's just a sniffle . . I hope.
* * * * *
Lisa's Dad is in the VA hospital for a knee replacement. That left Lisa's step-mother, who has MS and is prone to falling, without a caregiver. She moved on to her daughter's house but after a wicked fall it became apparent that her daughter's schedule, which left her alone most of the day, wasn't going to work. Lisa then volunteered to host her and her assistance dog.
Last night was her first night here. She's a good conversationalist and the kids adore having a dog here, so all is well so far. With Lisa and the kids at dance we watched Golden Girls (which we DVR here, as I have a long standing and disturbing crush on Betty White) and Oklahoma!. [The latter was a mistake, as I've annoyed everyone by frequently yelling "O O O Oh klahoma" around the house.]
* * * * * *
Happy 34th Birthday to my sister Katie yesterday!
* * * * *
Last week I wrote about how a predicted snowstorm resulted in no snow at all. The other night the reverse was true. The weather forecast was for occasional flurries. I woke up 13 inches of snow blanketing my world. It took hours to shovel it all out (which is probably where the sniffle is from).
Again, screw meteorologists. Charlatans, one and all.
* * * * *
I think I may change Lump's name to Ginger. Out of nowhere in the known gene pool she's developed beautiful red hair. Oddly enough my facial hair turns the same color if I let it grow out, so I'm thinking this is short lived. Still, it's neat to see with her pale skin and bright blue eyes.
* * * *
Smiley the other day, in protest: 'No I big boy ma-ma' A five word sentence! Hot Dog!
* * * *
For Lent I gave up the following:
1. Any and all food items from a gas station or dollar store - man, this one hurts. But I've been 100% sucessful so far.
2. No eating anything at all after 10 pm - harder than it sounds. I sometimes don't return from work until well after ten, and I'm always up until midnight or later. I've failed twice in seven days.
I've also tried to change two eating habits of mine. The first: my tendency when I'm hungry to have a food, say fettuccine Alfredo, pop into my head. I'll then go and seek that out like a bloodhound on a trail. Now I'm trying to recognize that it's hunger talking and that just about anything, from a healthy salad to a somewhat less awful burger, will fill the need.
Second, if I went to a place like, oh, Ned's Pizza, I'd go hog wild. Not because it was so great (even if it was) or I was hungry (even if I was) but because I always had this weird notion in my head that this might be the last opportunity I'd have to enjoy this food/restaurant/whatever.
I'd say that ties into my anxiety problem, but I could be wrong. At any rate I'm now resigning myself to the idea that a) I will have that food again and b) even if I don't, it won't be 'the' regret I'll fret about in the afterlife. The result? I've been able to scale back on the eating without feeling the pinch.
Naw, I think it's just a sniffle . . I hope.
* * * * *
Lisa's Dad is in the VA hospital for a knee replacement. That left Lisa's step-mother, who has MS and is prone to falling, without a caregiver. She moved on to her daughter's house but after a wicked fall it became apparent that her daughter's schedule, which left her alone most of the day, wasn't going to work. Lisa then volunteered to host her and her assistance dog.
Last night was her first night here. She's a good conversationalist and the kids adore having a dog here, so all is well so far. With Lisa and the kids at dance we watched Golden Girls (which we DVR here, as I have a long standing and disturbing crush on Betty White) and Oklahoma!. [The latter was a mistake, as I've annoyed everyone by frequently yelling "O O O Oh klahoma" around the house.]
* * * * * *
Happy 34th Birthday to my sister Katie yesterday!
* * * * *
Last week I wrote about how a predicted snowstorm resulted in no snow at all. The other night the reverse was true. The weather forecast was for occasional flurries. I woke up 13 inches of snow blanketing my world. It took hours to shovel it all out (which is probably where the sniffle is from).
Again, screw meteorologists. Charlatans, one and all.
* * * * *
I think I may change Lump's name to Ginger. Out of nowhere in the known gene pool she's developed beautiful red hair. Oddly enough my facial hair turns the same color if I let it grow out, so I'm thinking this is short lived. Still, it's neat to see with her pale skin and bright blue eyes.
* * * *
Smiley the other day, in protest: 'No I big boy ma-ma' A five word sentence! Hot Dog!
* * * *
For Lent I gave up the following:
1. Any and all food items from a gas station or dollar store - man, this one hurts. But I've been 100% sucessful so far.
2. No eating anything at all after 10 pm - harder than it sounds. I sometimes don't return from work until well after ten, and I'm always up until midnight or later. I've failed twice in seven days.
I've also tried to change two eating habits of mine. The first: my tendency when I'm hungry to have a food, say fettuccine Alfredo, pop into my head. I'll then go and seek that out like a bloodhound on a trail. Now I'm trying to recognize that it's hunger talking and that just about anything, from a healthy salad to a somewhat less awful burger, will fill the need.
Second, if I went to a place like, oh, Ned's Pizza, I'd go hog wild. Not because it was so great (even if it was) or I was hungry (even if I was) but because I always had this weird notion in my head that this might be the last opportunity I'd have to enjoy this food/restaurant/whatever.
I'd say that ties into my anxiety problem, but I could be wrong. At any rate I'm now resigning myself to the idea that a) I will have that food again and b) even if I don't, it won't be 'the' regret I'll fret about in the afterlife. The result? I've been able to scale back on the eating without feeling the pinch.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Snow on the Way
Depending on who you listen to Milwaukee is expecting somewhere between 3 and 9 inches of snow tonight. That's lousy if I was planning to drive, but with my Escort still down for repairs and Lisa and I both working tomorrow I'll probably have to take the bus anyway, so no harm no foul.
* while still not road worthy, the Escort is now starting and running, thanks to some tinkering I did under the hood. And, uh, just because it decided to co-operate.
I haven't felt much like blogging lately. I've been working, spending my spare time looking for a better, full time job, and dealing with the ins and outs of everyday life. Not much time for extracurricular writing I'm afraid. I hope to watch American Idol with Lisa tonight and if I consume enough caffeine I'd love to post about it. We'll see.
* * * * *
You may feel free to 'x' out of here now, because the rest of this post will be nothing more than a catch-up piece.
* In addition to Lump's ability to acquire bumps and bruises she continues to destroy my house every time she is freed from her cage (er, playpen). I might have mentioned this before, but as an example of how she spends her time: One day I lifted her out of her crib and onto the floor. This was a second-long maneuver that covered all of five feet. In that time she grabbed a blanket off the dresser with one hand, pulling it to the floor along with everything on top of it, and with the other hand grabbed a toy and threw it against the wall.
She's not unique of course. Today at work a toddler girl knocked down an entire display, sending it crashing to the ground. The Mom was embarrassed and looked crestfallen, something compounded by the rather unprofessional reaction of a co-worker of mine.
"Eighteen month old?" I asked the mom.
"Yes," she said. "How did you know?"
"I've got one at home," I said. "Mine would've done worse."
* Smiley can now call Lump by a nickname that's promoted by my sister and despised by Lisa. For the record, it's her first syllable followed by 'eee'. He also said 'no tank ooo mom-a' at the mall yesterday, which was super!
* I have to remember to schedule a doctor's appointment for my sinuses. To quote Lisa today: "You fiddle with your nose so much people are going to start thinking you've got a coke problem."
* I've become somewhat of a fan of college basketball, and of the local Bucks. Iv'e even started DVR'ing the games I'm not home to see. This is horrific news to Lisa. "You're attractivness has seriously fallen four points. I used to love that you hated sports. I would tell people 'he's not like other boys, he reads and writes and loves politics and doesn't waste his time screaming at a TV screen. Now you're just one of 'them'."
Well, that's a bit harsh. And untrue too. I have always loved baseball, and I was a casual but competitive fan of nearly all sports. May I bring up a Packers playoff victory in the '90's? It was a lovely come from behind affair. I was so excited with the result that I screamed, picked up Lisa, and tossed her in the air - ripping her $300 dress right down the back.
How quickly we forget.
* while still not road worthy, the Escort is now starting and running, thanks to some tinkering I did under the hood. And, uh, just because it decided to co-operate.
I haven't felt much like blogging lately. I've been working, spending my spare time looking for a better, full time job, and dealing with the ins and outs of everyday life. Not much time for extracurricular writing I'm afraid. I hope to watch American Idol with Lisa tonight and if I consume enough caffeine I'd love to post about it. We'll see.
* * * * *
You may feel free to 'x' out of here now, because the rest of this post will be nothing more than a catch-up piece.
* In addition to Lump's ability to acquire bumps and bruises she continues to destroy my house every time she is freed from her cage (er, playpen). I might have mentioned this before, but as an example of how she spends her time: One day I lifted her out of her crib and onto the floor. This was a second-long maneuver that covered all of five feet. In that time she grabbed a blanket off the dresser with one hand, pulling it to the floor along with everything on top of it, and with the other hand grabbed a toy and threw it against the wall.
She's not unique of course. Today at work a toddler girl knocked down an entire display, sending it crashing to the ground. The Mom was embarrassed and looked crestfallen, something compounded by the rather unprofessional reaction of a co-worker of mine.
"Eighteen month old?" I asked the mom.
"Yes," she said. "How did you know?"
"I've got one at home," I said. "Mine would've done worse."
* Smiley can now call Lump by a nickname that's promoted by my sister and despised by Lisa. For the record, it's her first syllable followed by 'eee'. He also said 'no tank ooo mom-a' at the mall yesterday, which was super!
* I have to remember to schedule a doctor's appointment for my sinuses. To quote Lisa today: "You fiddle with your nose so much people are going to start thinking you've got a coke problem."
* I've become somewhat of a fan of college basketball, and of the local Bucks. Iv'e even started DVR'ing the games I'm not home to see. This is horrific news to Lisa. "You're attractivness has seriously fallen four points. I used to love that you hated sports. I would tell people 'he's not like other boys, he reads and writes and loves politics and doesn't waste his time screaming at a TV screen. Now you're just one of 'them'."
Well, that's a bit harsh. And untrue too. I have always loved baseball, and I was a casual but competitive fan of nearly all sports. May I bring up a Packers playoff victory in the '90's? It was a lovely come from behind affair. I was so excited with the result that I screamed, picked up Lisa, and tossed her in the air - ripping her $300 dress right down the back.
How quickly we forget.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
How I spent Inauguration Day 2009
When I was in kindergarten my teacher, Sister Pat, led us into the music room across the hall to watch the Reagan Inauguration. A short time later she announced that the hostages in Iran were free, and made a point of saying it occurred on Reagan's watch.
I don't remember if I knew what any of it meant at the time, but I must have. I look at my girls, who are roughly the same age I was then, and they have depths of understanding that would seem unbelievable to someone who's never had kids. I imagine it was much the same for me back in 1981.
So I'm a little disappointed that neither of my girls were given the opportunity to watch Obama's inauguration (no word yet on whether Smiley's school showed the event). Not that I like the guy or buy his rhetoric - I think that's obvious - but it is history, and a shining example to the world that even after 200 years we still believe in a peaceful transition of power to the opposition.
28 years from now it would've been grand for one or both of them to blog about their memories of today.
[By the way, I received an email asking why I closed comments on the Bush post. It was meant as a . . .heartfelt message more than anything, and if I'd had a way to do it I would have made that entry 'private'. It wasn't intended to spark a debate and so I made sure it didn't. We'll all argue about him another time :)]
As for me, I listened to about five minutes of the speech while on the way to change a flat on my Escort. My wife had loaned the car to her friend Chris, aka She of Negative Car Karma, and in ten minutes time she'd managed to all but shred the right front tire. What's worse the car was parked on a wide swatch of snow and ice, and I foolishly failed to dig out a base for the jack. Result? The jack slipped and the car dropped, ruining the jack.
While I waited by the Escort she took my van to go pick up another jack. She called a few minutes later to say that she couldn't start the van. I told you, cars hate the woman. It turns out she had just locked the wheel and it was a one second fix.
At two I took Lump into the doc for her checkup. She is 33 inches tall and weighs 24 pounds. Those numbers place her in the 90th percentile for height (meaning 90% of girls her age are shorter) and in the 25th percentile in weight (meaning 75% of girls her age are heavier).
In other words, she's tall and skinny.
The doc thinks she has allergies, since her runny nose is perpetual, and gave us a prescription. Other than that, she's perfectly healthy. She didn't cry or even flinch during the *four* shots she got, but bawled and fought over the blood test.
Here's the part I don't like. When I tried to report in the results to Lisa I was told the doctor had already called and told her everything. This is the second time a doc from that office has done this; the first time a Doctor flat out said she didn't trust me to properly relay her findings because she 'knows how men are'.
WTF???
Mind you, this is one of the most respected and learned pediatrician offices in the city. But the reverse-sexism explicit in their calls just galls the hell out of me.
Speaking of doctors I fear I'm going to need one. My sinuses have been clogged for weeks now and now I'm staring to get very minor nosebleeds. It kind of snuck up on me. It took Lisa pointing out the amount of time I've had the problem to realize there was a problem at all.
By the way, Lump's nickname is staying for the time being. The only other option would be the discarded Smiley nickname of 'Maker of Trouble and Mayhem'. She is 100% hell when on the loose in the house, just destroying everything in her path. I took her out of her crib the other day and on the way to the floor as I put her down she grabbed two items off a shelf and threw them across the room. Anything and EVERYTHING she touches is meant to be eaten, thrown, dumped down the stairs, broken, or tipped over. There is not a Cheerio's box in Milwaukee that she hasn't scattered across the floor and I weep for my home when I see her on the prowl.
Tonight it was dance class for the kids and Lisa and wonder of wonders, when we got home the kids made it from the van to the house without tears, screaming, or violence.
It was like winning the lottery.
I don't remember if I knew what any of it meant at the time, but I must have. I look at my girls, who are roughly the same age I was then, and they have depths of understanding that would seem unbelievable to someone who's never had kids. I imagine it was much the same for me back in 1981.
So I'm a little disappointed that neither of my girls were given the opportunity to watch Obama's inauguration (no word yet on whether Smiley's school showed the event). Not that I like the guy or buy his rhetoric - I think that's obvious - but it is history, and a shining example to the world that even after 200 years we still believe in a peaceful transition of power to the opposition.
28 years from now it would've been grand for one or both of them to blog about their memories of today.
[By the way, I received an email asking why I closed comments on the Bush post. It was meant as a . . .heartfelt message more than anything, and if I'd had a way to do it I would have made that entry 'private'. It wasn't intended to spark a debate and so I made sure it didn't. We'll all argue about him another time :)]
As for me, I listened to about five minutes of the speech while on the way to change a flat on my Escort. My wife had loaned the car to her friend Chris, aka She of Negative Car Karma, and in ten minutes time she'd managed to all but shred the right front tire. What's worse the car was parked on a wide swatch of snow and ice, and I foolishly failed to dig out a base for the jack. Result? The jack slipped and the car dropped, ruining the jack.
While I waited by the Escort she took my van to go pick up another jack. She called a few minutes later to say that she couldn't start the van. I told you, cars hate the woman. It turns out she had just locked the wheel and it was a one second fix.
At two I took Lump into the doc for her checkup. She is 33 inches tall and weighs 24 pounds. Those numbers place her in the 90th percentile for height (meaning 90% of girls her age are shorter) and in the 25th percentile in weight (meaning 75% of girls her age are heavier).
In other words, she's tall and skinny.
The doc thinks she has allergies, since her runny nose is perpetual, and gave us a prescription. Other than that, she's perfectly healthy. She didn't cry or even flinch during the *four* shots she got, but bawled and fought over the blood test.
Here's the part I don't like. When I tried to report in the results to Lisa I was told the doctor had already called and told her everything. This is the second time a doc from that office has done this; the first time a Doctor flat out said she didn't trust me to properly relay her findings because she 'knows how men are'.
WTF???
Mind you, this is one of the most respected and learned pediatrician offices in the city. But the reverse-sexism explicit in their calls just galls the hell out of me.
Speaking of doctors I fear I'm going to need one. My sinuses have been clogged for weeks now and now I'm staring to get very minor nosebleeds. It kind of snuck up on me. It took Lisa pointing out the amount of time I've had the problem to realize there was a problem at all.
By the way, Lump's nickname is staying for the time being. The only other option would be the discarded Smiley nickname of 'Maker of Trouble and Mayhem'. She is 100% hell when on the loose in the house, just destroying everything in her path. I took her out of her crib the other day and on the way to the floor as I put her down she grabbed two items off a shelf and threw them across the room. Anything and EVERYTHING she touches is meant to be eaten, thrown, dumped down the stairs, broken, or tipped over. There is not a Cheerio's box in Milwaukee that she hasn't scattered across the floor and I weep for my home when I see her on the prowl.
Tonight it was dance class for the kids and Lisa and wonder of wonders, when we got home the kids made it from the van to the house without tears, screaming, or violence.
It was like winning the lottery.
Thursday, November 13, 2008
A marker, a crib, and Superman underwear
When we checked on the baby after a nap recently we found Smiley asleep in her crib. He'd dumped a number of spare blankets and pillows inside. He also, as you can see, decided to decorate the baby with Magic Marker.
The bedding ticked me off the most, because if Lump had put two and two together she would have been able to use it to climb out on her own.
Quite a pair, those two, and surprisingly quiet when they're up to no good.
The bedding ticked me off the most, because if Lump had put two and two together she would have been able to use it to climb out on her own.
Quite a pair, those two, and surprisingly quiet when they're up to no good.
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Lump's 1st Swim Class
Yesterday, while Lisa had the other three at dance class, I was honored to take Lump for her first ever swim class.
It was very cold and windy outside, but the pool was as warm as bath water. It's the same pool that I talked about on Saturday. Keep in mind the pictures are much darker than it actually looked in the room.
As a matter of fact, it was the same teacher we had on Saturday. That worked out great. She seemed quite pleased that we were 'repeat' customers and was very friendly to the Lump. She even used her twice to demonstrate techniques, which I thought was cool.
If you've been to an infant swim class you know the drill. Jumping in the water and splashing, 'The Wheels on the Bus', 'Hokey Pokey' and 'I'm a piece of popcorn' songs, reaching for the rubber ducky, and basic kicking were all on the menu.
Lump did great. Of the four babies who showed up (of six registered) she wasn't the best 'swimmer', but was the only baby not to cry.
It was a good time and a nice bonding experience with the Lump. I look forward to going again next week.
* * * *
Afterwards I headed out to a western suburb to pick up the other three kids. The dance instructor had gone out of her way to schedule all three kids classes on the same day for us, but that's backfired. There's no way to keep Smiley quiet for the two hours he has to wait for his sisters, or any way to keep LuLu occupied for her two one hour waits. [note: Lisa works off tuition by answering phones and running their desk, so she can't watch them every second]
Whenever I pick them up I have trouble corralling them and its so chaotic I'm sure the other parents think 'white trash'. I don't care, but I do worry about Smiley's habit of running out into the parking lot while I'm packing up the other ones.
Anyhow, they're all loving dance class so we'll make do. It works a lot better when I'm there to lend a hand, although I get bitter about the waste of what could have been perfectly good 'alone time' in their absence.
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