How to defend the fast break

It was inevitable I suppose.  Connor has been running around the house like a lunatic for a while now and little Josie was content crawling up to something and cruising.  She also likes to be held and loves attention.  She also loves whatever Connor has in his hands at the time.  Actually a pretty funny example of sibling jealousy happened the other day.  We have this little puzzle box that has two 9-piece puzzles in it.  Connor was putting one of them together and Josephine crawled over to see and start grabbing pieces.  Nita was downstairs putting her contacts in or doing laundry, or something.  I was by myself.  Anyway, Connor was saying, “No Josie, No!”  So I gave Josephine the other puzzle, which became immediately more interesting to Connor.  He abandoned his puzzle and reached for hers.  So I allowed the switch.  And Connor was happy he had Josie’s puzzle and Josie was happy she had his puzzle…for about three seconds.  Then they looked at each other, looked at the puzzles, and wanted to switch again.  This went on four times.  I just laughed as I kept switching the puzzles, it could have gone on for half an hour.  I know it was kind of cruel, like the puppy or cat with the laser pointer type cruel, but funny and no one was injured in the filming of this episode.

Josie loves being around Connor and Connor recognizes he has mobility as his main asset.  So Josie starts coming and he takes off running.  She giggles and tries to follow.  The problem is, now I have to pick my favorite, because Josie can now climb up the stairs…all of them.  And Connor usually makes a break for the refrigerator, the scissor drawer, or to the bathroom where he is trying to set a record for soft soap pumping before being caught.  The upside is his hands (and our floor) are really clean and smell wonderful.  I had to change the French door handles to round knobs with safety knobs or outside would be the escape route of choice.  This is usually pretty manageable because we have a baby corral (which Josie will sometimes use) and Connor will usually obey as long as his little attention span will allow. 

Recently, while mommy was out doing something and I had both, I had the double diaper whammy.  Two curve balls in a row! For those of you who are lost, when calling for a curve ball you drop two fingers. You know a deuce, number two, a bear who likes honey.  Okay, we’re all caught up.  So I go to change Josie first, no problem.  Connor can play trains in the living room.  But this time he doesn’t.  He sprints out of the room just as I open Josephine’s ode to blueberries.  I’m calling for him and Josie who’s trying to say words is babbling attempting to mimic me.  So I get her cleaned up, re-dressed, and I go wash my hands.  I should have waited.  Connor has pumped half a bottle of soap on himself and the bathroom floor mat.  He smells of great tea and aloe…and poop.

We get Connor to the changing table (which used to be my study, but I won’t get into how much real estate I’ve lost in the house) and I put Josie in the middle of the floor.  I’m thinking she’ll be fascinated watching brother like always.  Nope.  She breaks for the entry way.  I figure, she’s going to the formerly formal living room which is now a play room.  (By the way, anyone want to buy an Edgar Kelly rug with blue Crayola marker on it?) Then I hear the familiar fump fump fump of her hands and knees working the stairs.  Shit, literally.  I just started the cleaning process.  So I beg Connor, “Connor please do NOT move, daddy will be back in 10 seconds.  Can you please count to ten?”  He says, “Yes daddy” and starts counting.  My boy.  I go around the corner and there is Josie on the fifth step. 

For all of you at home thinking, “Why don’t you just put a baby gate at the bottom of the stairs?”  Well, we bought our home from crazy people who did a custom build.  The spiral staircase is uniquely angled, unsafe, and wide.  I’ve tried every off the shelf baby gate and it won’t fit.  I’m in the process of planning to build my own out of a wrought iron gate section with spring hinges, but who has the time? Luckily we put hardwood on both the stairs and the entry way, so there’s no padding either.  Anyway, Josie is five steps up and I grab her with my wrists and forearms and put her back in the study.  Connor has just gotten to nine.  So I go to finish the job and Josie sets off again.  Now I’m pretty fast on the diaper changes, I mean NASCAR pit crew fast, I mean Guido from Cars fast.  But this was a, without going into overly graphic details a multi-wipe-lots-of-surface-area change.  He must have had peanut butter and mango for lunch.  In any case, Josie is off again. 

I finish off Connor, pick up Josie with my forearms again and bring her to the bathroom.  I wash my hands and.… where’s Connor.  He’s in the freezer looking for ice cream.  That boy!  So I get them both upstairs and we play trains for a little bit.  By play trains I mean Connor plays trains and builds complex bridges, tunnels and stations. Josephine does her best Godzilla and destroys the tracks and bridges he’s built.  Then mercifully Nita comes home and I can go to man cave and take a break and watch some football.  Seriously, how do you moms do it all day every day?  And some of you with three and four kids?  Apathy must enter the game somewhere and I don’t mean that as a criticism, I mean it as a reality for maintaining sanity.  I was talking to a buddy the other day and I think our athletic backgrounds actually hurt us.  It’s harder for us to relax and enjoy the kids playing. We’re always looking for the danger, anticipating the kids’ next move, the next object of potential disaster and trying to head off that danger. It’s exhausting!  I just don’t want them to end up on a Darwin award list.  So Nita and I are done.  No more kids.  Right now we can play man to man defense and occasionally defend the 2 on 1 break.  But I can’t see us playing a three on two zone or worse the three on one fast break, talk about picking the favorite.  Besides, we can’t afford the soap.

And I HELPED!!

And I helped.

Do you remember the old Shake and Bake commercial?  So to set the background, Nita and I plan our family menu each week on Saturday or Sunday morning.  We make a list of events, and then do one big shopping trip at the store.  We try to round out the menu with a chicken, beef, pork, and seafood and match up the veggies.  We try to keep it pretty healthy, figure out prep times and coordinate with our schedules and routines.  We even put it on a grease board so our nanny can coordinate lunch and not overlap. I know it sounds pretty hospital corners, but it makes things pretty efficient and we NEVER worry about what we’re having or missing ingredients.  We also have a pretty good inventory of our pantry and refrigerators and are able to purge the old stuff.  (We wouldn’t want a grandmother or nanny grabbing leftovers that should have been thrown away three weeks ago).  Anyway, we’re not trying to patent or defend the process, just share the methodology.

This past Saturday we started going through the menu options.  The only bad part of this is you have a tendency to pick some of the same meals over and over again.  So while trying to think of something different for poultry, “Shake ‘N Bake” just popped in my head.  I remember back when I first started in the Texas Senate, we had this woman named Cyndi in the office.  Her dad was a hotshot lobbyist and she was what we called a “political must hire.”  Not going to get into that but she always knew where the great lobby parties were during session and I can personally thank her for keeping me fed during that time (they didn’t pay us very much).  One time in the office, while she was nursing a hangover from a huge bender I remember, and actually cannot get it out of my head since, her talking about the “shake ‘n bake” commercial.  And with the thickest southern drawl she could muster saying, “It’s shake ‘n bake and I helped!”  She said it about 100 times, which is why it is so deeply ingrained I suppose.

Needless to say, I suggested that as our “chicken” dish for this week.  Well Monday was my day to make it.  I came home a bit early and Connor was outside and had just finishing gluing everything he could put glue on, had moved to painting, and was inching towards the dirt patch.  (See last week’s blog, at least we have some grass over the trench now, and the sprinkler head has been fixed, but are probably two more pallets from being done.) Connor was really excited about daddy being home and wanted me to play with him.  I told him I had to cut some veggies for dinner but I’d let him help with the chicken and then we’d play trains while it cooked. I went inside to start on dinner and Connor headed toward the dirt. Connor was crazy excited.

Once I got down to the shaking part, I called Nita to wash him up to come in.  When I looked outside the kitchen window, there was my son, buck nekkid, being hosed down by the fire hose nozzle.  I know.  And of course I couldn’t stop laughing…until I was told (by a neighbor) this is the new daily routine.  Anyhoo, I watch as my wife chases my wet naked son down the hall and expect him to emerge with some clothes on.  Instead, he’s in just a diaper carrying his little step up stool.  He’s ready to help.  So as promised I put some chicken in the bag, pour in the contents of the mix and hand it to Connor to shake.  I told him it’s “shake and bake” which means he has to shake it really well and then we bake it.  He shakes and giggles and shakes and squishes and shakes some more.  He does a pretty good job coating the chicken.  We put it in the dish and I put it in the oven.  Just then my mom comes over, and we invite her to stay for dinner. 

Once we get the table set and everyone’s ready, Connor is going to his chair and says, (You guessed it) “Abuelita, abuelita (grandmother in Spanish), It’s Shake and Bake and I HELPED!!”  I really started laughing.  Then before the meal, Connor usually leads the prayer.  This time he said, “God is great, God is good, let us thank him for our ….Chicken!”  Now I couldn’t stop laughing.  One of those things were you almost can’t catch your breath and as soon as you stop you replay it in your head and start laughing again.  It was REALLY funny to me.  Of course Josie thought my laughing was hilarious and was cooing and clapping.  Could have been the bourbon, either way, it was funny.  By the way, his lack of clothing and the spontaneity of this kept us from getting any new pictures.  So I’m sorry for no new photos this week, just the link to the original commercial. J

Mud glorious mud

I suppose I should have seen it coming. We went to half priced books after dinner one night and they had a little Thomas train video that we didn’t have.  It involved a mud pit and a back hoe, front loader, dump truck, and a bulldozer.  Connor decided he loved this video for several reasons.  1. Because now he “needed” to have Jack the bulldozer and Alfie the back hoe. 2. He thought the mud splashing was funny. 3. He already has several dump trucks in the back yard and has been pushing those around for over a year. 4. Did I mention the mud?

We haven’t had any rain here in a couple of months so there have been no puddles or mud.  We’ve been on watering restrictions and the ground really soaks it up.  However, (as with most government regulations) there was an unintended consequence to making me change my watering from 2 days to 1 day.  I merely doubled the length of time on my sprinkler systems.  This means the ground can’t soak it up like half the time twice a week.  Plus, remember that new play scape?  Well, because the ground wasn’t level before we leveled it and brought in some dirt to build up the sides and provide a slope rather than a steep drop off.   It hasn’t been completed.

Any of you who have read my Christmas letters know that I almost always have a project of some sort going on.  And 90% of the time it was done by a very good friend of mine (whose name I won’t mention to protect the guilty).  This friend can do some pretty amazing things, has a very diverse skill set and a lot of resources with different skill sets as well.  But if he tells you he’ll be there at a certain time, he may not even show up that day.  If he tells you that by a certain date you’ll be done, he may not even take your call for a week.  So Nita and I have had some wonderful debates around retail cost for reliable timely projects and the friend rates for more, let’s just call it flexible scheduling. J  We have since decided that real emergency projects or things that can’t afford to linger have to be farmed out to other people.  We categorize them as need to haves and nice to haves.  Friend doesn’t get the need-to business anymore. Anyway, the last part of our play scape plan was to put some grass down on the dirt that was spread on the slope. 

Connor loves dirt, sand and rocks.  But he really LOVES dirt! He can play in it with his shovel, a dump truck, a cup, hands, feet, you name it.  He channels his inner Huck Finn and just goes crazy.  Josie just sits in her little swing and watches him and giggles and points.

 So back to the watering.  Friend was also supposed to repair the irrigation system by raising the cannon in one of the zones that previously serviced where the play scape was.  Well that cannon was covered by dirt and I couldn’t wait three weeks to water my yard.  SOOOOOOO I ran the sprinklers and doubled the time.  This created a trench about two feet deep and ten feet long.  At the bottom of the trench was a mud pit.  I discovered the mud pit about 10 minutes after Connor did.  I was doing something else in the back yard and when I went to see him I just almost fell over laughing.  Also, that morning he was watching the Cat in the Hat.  The episode was a lesson in doing a forward roll or a somersault.  So of course he had to try it…in the mud.  Then his shoes got stuck, so he just unfastened the Velcro and stepped out of them. 

The next day he said he needed a big back hoe.  I took him to Toys R us and he picked out a nice green John Deere.  So he’s been living the dream back there.  And then it hit me.  With all his die cast trains, videos, technology, robotics, and remote controls, my son just loves dirt.  He loves playing in the pea gravel and shoveling dirt.  

I guess some of my country upbringing was genetic.  Because I was telling mom about this and showing her the pictures and she said I would spend hours digging a trench, filling it with water and then setting up 100 army men for a full scale assault.  And I’d come into the mud room, well filthy.  So although I’ve made some calls to get some grass on top of that dirt, it brought back some fun memories.  To be perfectly honest, it is refreshing to hear Connor ask to go outside to play every single day.  Even when it’s 104 degrees.  And worst case, I just need to turn on the hose for a few minutes for some of that glorious smile inducing mud.

Inspired by the blessings that annoy others

I’ve said it a bunch, but it seems like the more I pray the luckier I get.  A few pretty significant events happened to me this week, some directly, and some indirectly.  Of course I feel blessed that many of my friends from far off reached out to me and asked if we were okay as a result of the wildfires.  So thank you to those who reached out, and those who prayed, and those who just silently hoped for the best.  We’re fine, no worries and were never in any danger.

So as some of you who follow my facebook check-ins know, I was off on another trip this week. I was determined to take Connor to his first day of preschool with Nita and left later than one of my co-workers for our DC trip. I was lucky enough to get upgraded and was wondering if the meal would be crappy or not and perhaps even if the number 1 would do a pre-board cocktail.  It was on my first hop that I got a text from one of my colleagues that her plane had a security breach and they had to exit the plane.  When I got to Dallas, my co-worker told me the details.  Apparently two Somali men were moving around the cabin and changing seats prior to take off.  My colleague was former Army Intelligence (no jokes here people) J.  She said she noticed him and his partner and had that queasy feeling.  That’s when the flight crew said that they were to be delayed for a few moments.  Then the suits came on the plane.  One went right up to the guy she had a bad feeling about and who was one row up from her bent down and said, “Come on lets go…you know! And leave your bag.” 

The woman next to her expressed her shock and my co-worker then said, “Wait, there is another one 15 rows back, and described his clothes.”  A minute later that person was also escorted off the plane.  They also asked everyone to de-board the plane and please leave all their carry on luggage.  Okay, here’s where I got a little miffed.  Apparently some narcissistic idiots who thought their blouse, ipad, and lipstick were more important than the safety of 190 people, tried to grab their belongings.  They were shouted down by several of the other passengers and other flight crew.  And much like the professionally offended acted like the victims.  The directions were clear!  DO NOT GRAB YOUR belongings.  Anyway, they asked half the plane to get off while the other half were allowed to retrieve their stuff.  Then they were escorted out of the gate and had to re-check through a closed security scanner.  Repeat with the other half.  The plane was decommissioned and swept.  All luggage and cargo was removed and all passengers were re booked on flights.  And of course there was the obligatory, “This is bullshit!”  It reminded me of the comedy routine Everything's amazing and nobody is happy.

In any case, she was re booked on my flight and as she happily went back to her seat with a great attitude of “at least I’m alive, thank God TSA did their job.” There was a low grumble.  My meal was now completely irrelevant, I was happy to be safe as well and just couldn’t wait to get home after a quick one night trip.

On my way home, I was able to bug out a bit early and caught an amazingly tight standby flight home.  I even got an exit row.  Then on the next leg, by the way Dallas to Austin on Thursday night is tough.  Even though there is a flight every hour and a half there are more Executive Platinum (EP) fliers in Austin than in any other major metropolitan area.  I’m not exaggerating; it has to do with number of flights because you always have to connect to either DFW or Chicago.  Plus, all the road warriors try to fly out Sunday or Monday and home Thursday to do Friday home office hours.  They go get dry cleaning, see the dentist, take kids to school, or just try to act like normal parents.  Anyway, if you’re platinum you have a chance to get on, gold almost none.  If you have no status, you are only wasting everyone’s time to try to standby. All the EPs who get in early always try to hop the standby. And they automatically move to the top of the list.  Plus if you are EP, there is a thing called “never full.”  So If an EP calls at the last second the agent has to accept the reservation and book them, meanwhile in the process, bumping someone else.  Back to my story.  So my original flight was scheduled to leave Washington at 7pm.  But I caught the 3:10 home.  I was booked on standby for the 6:55 and was the second to last person to get on the plane.  I made it, but had to gate check my bag.  Again, considering yesterday’s events and the fact that I’d get home 3 hours earlier, no big deal.

When I got to baggage claim I checked facebook to see if there were any more Aggie haters from the SEC move. I’ve been in a steady war (in a fun way) over this. Instead I saw a message from a dear old friend.  He said that a girl in his daughter’s first grade class had lost her home and everything in it in the wildfires spreading around central Texas.  He said he remembered a post I’d put about another friend who had a house for sale that was empty but they were willing to help a displaced family.  Well I put the two of them together.  What is even more adorable is my friend donating the house was almost apologetic.  Actually not almost, was apologetic.  She said, “Marco, there are only air mattresses and no furniture.  There are no cooking utensils, or anything.  I said, “my dear, that’s enough. We’ll get the family some sheets, pots, pans, plates, food, towels, toiletries, etc.  As long as you have AC, water, and power, I’m sure they’re happy to have a place.”  They were going to move into a hotel.

I can tell you as a guy who has lived in a suitcase, hotels are cool when they are part of a vacation or if someone else is paying the extra 2 million percent for room service.  Seriously, 50 bucks for a BLT and a cup of soup in my DC hotel last night.  That’s just stupid.  In any case, God bless you Shari and Mark Riddle!  You have changed someone’s life. By the way, I have countless stories of friends who have done amazing things for others in need.  This is just the most recent example.

So I pulled into my driveway.  Threw my arms around my wife and told her I loved her.  I checked on my sleeping kids on the video monitors and thought of how truly blessed I am.  And I have wonderful friends around me who continually push me to be a better person.  Isn’t it amazing that people are annoyed so quickly and can’t even see the blessings in front of their noses? I guess it’s still funny how the more I pray and surround myself with good people, the luckier I get.  May God bless and protect you all.

From Road Warrior to couch potato

I recently got off the phone with my wife as she was driving the kids to a meal. Connor was in the back saying “Come here right now daddy!”  Josephine was cooing and doing her little attempts to get into the conversation.  This is my second consecutive week on the road and you know what?  I’ve lost the taste for it. 

I used to be a road warrior.  My best well, maybe “best” isn’t the right word, year on the road was 128 flights.  I had all kinds of status with hotels, cars, etc.  I traveled so much that once the girls from the Admirals club called me at home to tell me my flight had been cancelled but they’d rebooked me on an earlier flight.  This is significant because it was a vacation and I had allowed my membership to lapse.  I had technically come off the road and Nita didn’t believe the call.  She really thought the entire call was a staged ruse in order to lure her to the airport early instead of late like we are to everything else.  But needless to say, I traveled a lot.  However, three nights last week, four nights this week, one night next week, and I’m not a fan. 

I would describe my style of travel as “efficiently comfortable.”  I’ve learned lots of tricks to make almost every trip more enjoyable if not at least tolerable.  I’ve learned to maximize comfort with the use of airline club memberships to first in line car rentals, to concierge club status at hotels while minimizing lines and waiting. 

I’ve got some pretty amazing friends who have no choice but to travel constantly.  There are a couple of professional golfers, a Rock star (legit, they even made a movie about him called “Rockstar”), and a pretty amazing comedian.  I’ve got a ton of friends who are account executives and business executives that are on the road every week.  They are on the road constantly.  In fact, most of them taught me the tricks of the trade.  I’ve even traveled to see them on the road a few times, of course they’re in another league of travel, but the road is still the road.  I remember one of those friends who went from tour bus to private jet.  I remember telling him how nice of a bus I thought it was and he said, “It doesn’t matter what you do to it or put in it, at the end of the day, it’s still a bus and it ain’t home.”  Please don't misunderstand me.  I'm not making any sort of judgment on the road warrior.  In fact, the folks I know and talk about here are all wonderful parents and include their kids in a ton of things and expose them to things most can only dream of.  So I don't want anyone to think I'm taking a stand on the "right" or "wrong" way to do this.

I’m also in Federal sales and this is my second military show.  Now I can’t even begin to imagine what it would be like to be deployed for six months, a year, or even two.  Having to watch your kids grow up and reach milestones through video clips, emails, and skype calls.  And these folks are willing to get shot at so we don’t have to?  God bless you men and women of the military and your spouses! 

So on my flight home last Friday as I was sharing pictures of Connor and Josie with the flight attendants (and smell the fresh biscuits they were making.  By the way, American Airlines has the best biscuits for breakfast.  A lot of their food is between edible and tolerable, but I can never resist the biscuit.  Okay, back to the sentence) I was asked a question for which I was completely unprepared.  “Oh, they are so cute.  Are they your kids or your grand kids?”  Record scratch, everyone stop, look at Marco.  I smiled and said, “You know what? That is a legitimate question.  Mathematically, it is reasonable to assume they could be either.  But they are my children.” Was I still bleeding?  I checked my nose.  That one stung a little.

So here I am, a middle aged man with a fresh cocktail on my way home.  I’m thinking how lucky I am, actually not lucky, blessed. By the grace of God I haven’t missed anything.  I still have a week or two like this occasionally, but I will still get to see my sweet little girl and my sweet little boy tomorrow.  I’ll get to give Nita a big hug and a kiss and take comfort in the fact that I only have one, maybe two more trips for the entire year.  And then it’s home after work, just me sitting on the couch, Connor sitting right next to me or between my legs using me as his personal lazy boy, watching a ball game or a Disney movie.  And he’ll never know (or care) that daddy racked up a million miles in the air.

When we eventually travel as a family he’ll wonder why I’m a freak about lines in the airport or why I’m annoyed to stand in line behind everyone else at the hotel desk while I gaze longingly at the “diamond desk” and it’s anything you need check in.  And he’ll never know that the Doubletree will give you unlimited walnut chocolate chip cookies that are so warm the chocolate is still gooey. That there is a special lounge in Chicago O’Hare where you can pour your own drinks and make your own snacks.  And all I can say is, “Thank you God! Thank you for helping me to realize what is more important.”  And tomorrow, while he’s perched between my legs with a sippy cup of milk and a snack, I’ll kiss him on the head.  I’ll smell his hair and then pick the sand out of my mouth (that kid LOVES dirt and sand, like abnormally loves.  He’s like pig pen from Charlie Brown).  Then we’ll go outside and swing.  And smile knowing this is my future, not a pile of regret. 

“As a matter of fact ma’am, they are my children.  This is Connor with the red hair, he’s 2 ¾ and Josie is 9 months.  Yes her name is Josephine but we call her ‘Josie.’  It’s a family name, in fact my wife’s middle name is ‘Giuseppina’ which is Italian for ‘Josephine.’ Why yes my wife is a red head.  I think it is recessive, but all these white hairs on my beard used to be reddish, so I must be a carrier.  Gate C 21?  Oh, that’s right across from the admirals club.  Just two more hours from home, then I’ve got a date with a couple of red heads and a little brown haired girl.  Well, while you’re up, maybe just one more.” J

And Jerry Mathers, as the Beaver

At lunch today with a few colleagues, someone made a pun about Patty Duke.  And of course since we immediately started talking about the TV line ups of the time.  Gilligan’s island, Love Boat, Brady Bunch, and of course Leave it to Beaver.  The humor was simple, the lessons were obvious (except love boat), and the times were pretty good.  Wasn’t it amazing that in 30 minutes you could get yourself into quite a pickle and then solve the problem?  Honesty was always the best policy (except love boat) and dad was always right.  My, how things have changed.

Reality TV is now the chic new style of programming.  Desperate jersey shore jackass surviving housewives who want to catch cheating Idol spouses dancing.  Grab the popcorn honey, I think this guy is going to actually commit suicide on live TV!  Music too has changed quite a bit.  Now I know Elvis had mother’s dragging their daughters to their preachers and priests attempting to force the Devil out of these subversive weak minds.  And every generation since has had as their modus operandi a need to shock their parents, but holy shit, what could possibly be next? In 11 years when Connor is a teenager, what will be the hip thing?

Will music be even more misogynistic and violent?  Or will it return to doo wop music?  Don’t get me wrong, I have turned my hat sideways and thrown down a rap or two and I certainly was a metal head in high school, and college, and okay, I’m still kind of a metal head.  (Rock on Ripper!!!).  But now that I’m older I really thought Metallica’s S&M DVD was pretty amazing.  For those of you who think I went off the deep end, no I didn’t watch Metallica engage in lewd acts that would have given Maplethorpe another NEA grant, they did a concert with the San Francisco Symphony.  Symphony and Metallica, S&M.  Anyway, what is next on TV?  I’m really praying this reality fad is almost over.  I don’t want to watch average people do stupid things to get their 15 minutes.  I personally think youtube is going to ruin the political ambitions of every kid who could actually make a difference later and leave only the 535 people each year who couldn’t get a date to the prom and have never been to a party.

Speaking of youtube, how many of you, and I mean YOU my dear friends could have stood the test of constant surveillance?  Could you imagine cameras (whether on stoplights, buildings, or phones) constantly filming your every move?  And further, could you imagine anyone posting all these things for all to see without you knowing or potentially even ever finding out?  I did some pretty stupid things, and some of you were with me, I mean how can kids survive this insanity?  And email and texting is so ADD and quick.  At least back in the day when we wrote a girl a love note we had the ability to agonize over every word and when they got it, it usually contained several erase marks.  And it certainly did not contain a picture of our junk Congressman Weiner!  Maybe if you REALLY liked her you made her a mix tape or the words rhymed.  And we clearly didn’t ask for a picture of their junk back.  What is up with this stuff today?  Parents of teenagers, how do you deal with this now?

So back to my point.  Are all of you scared to death about what is next?  Are you optimistic?  Do you think in our cyclical nature of fashion that we just might get another American Graffiti (where cruising did not involve going to a park)? That maybe June will virtually come into our study, hand us a scotch and tell us that dinner will be ready in 20 minutes…and that she’s a little worried about the beaver.  Maybe I should put down the Kindle and go talk to him. As I walk up the stairs will I be engulfed in nostalgia as “The Lion Sleeps Tonight” wafts from under his door?  Or will I walk into Connor’s room and hear gunfire and screams as the beat sample for the new hit single, “Kill your Dad now before he grounds you fool!” While Josie is taking pictures of herself to send to her new digital pen pal in prison, or worse congress! 

I think I’ll take that scotch now June, even Eddie Haskell wasn’t so bad.

Underwhelmed.

With 200 consecutive days at 100 degrees and no rain, it’s getting harder to be consistently creative regarding not only keeping Connor entertained, but also physically active.  So far Nita and Kara have taken him to five different jumpy castle places, a children’s gymnastics studio, puppet shows, story times at libraries and bookstores, train rides at the mall, train rides at a park, swimming, and the indoor zoo.  What?! Didn’t know we had an indoor zoo in Austin (Shhhh, *whispering* it’s just PetSmart and Petco, but don’t tell Connor he loves it).  So this morning Connor woke up and played trains with Josie.  Watched a little sesame street and then had some breakfast. After breakfast as soon as Kara showed up he very matter-of-factly said, “Where are we going today?”

Connor has over 100 trains and cars, three different types of tracks, and all kinds of bridges and tunnels.  He’s got a mountain of stuffed animals.  He has about 300 books, blocks (wooden and foam), tools, cars, balls, two sets of golf clubs (one plastic one real), two basketball goals (one nerf one outdoor), and a baseball swing trainer.  He has a hockey stick and puck, sorting and counting games, puzzles, remote control vehicles, and four semi-trucks. He’s got trikes, baseball gloves, swings, farming tools, and of course all my stuff that he can get his hands on when mommy’s not looking.  He has four different sized dump trucks for inside and outside play, a water table, slip and slide, sandbox, fishing game, musical instruments, play dough, markers and crayons, a bunch of Disney movies, Baby Einstein videos, and all kinds of developmental games.  I’m not trying to be show-y here, I’m just saying the little brother has options.

Josie, on the other hand, is living the dream.  Everywhere she turns is something to grab, play with, put in her mouth, and see if Connor will come running to take it away or not.  Her favorite thing of late is to pull herself up on Connor’s train table and start taking apart the tracks. I used to think she was upset when he took things out of her hand, but now I think she just loves his attention.  I can see her little mind working and am wondering not “if” but “when” she’ll learn to fully manipulate all of us.  Hear that Josephine?  I’m watching you kid!

So when Connor was informed that he’d be staying in all day he looked a little, well, underwhelmed.  It was like he was disappointed that we’d run out of ideas, like we had “stopped trying.”  I’m remembering times when my instructions for the day were four words: go outside and play.  That was it.  The rest was solely up to me.  I never grew up with a pool and we certainly didn’t belong to a club.  So the once a month I got to go to the city pool at garrison and was given 25 cents for an ice cream sandwich (oh yeah, right out of the machine in the locker room) seemed like a treat not a right.  It’s making me think about entitlement a little bit and how I’m going to guard against his constant expectation of the world owing him entertainment.  Okay before all of you freak out, I know.  He’s only 2 ½ and I’m not going to send him to a labor camp.  His job right now is to learn and play, I get it.  I’m just thinking out loud I guess.  Back to the public pool, remember there was always some dumb kid who’d get their arm stuck trying to steal an extra ice cream.  That was always pretty entertaining.  Good times.

So we decided to get Connor a play scape.  Swings, rings, slide, rock wall, fort, and a little observation deck with captains wheel and binoculars.  He’s been ready for a while, I was just looking for a deal.  Plus I needed to level a part of the yard, get the pea gravel, the whole thing.  He loves it.  We had it delivered while he, Nita, Nita’s brother, and Josie went to a bouncy castle place (imagine that, another field trip).  Another funny thing is while loading up in the car, Connor noticed two toys that Nita purchased, but hadn’t decided on keeping (yet).  They were Thomas train Legos and of course he went nuts over them and wanted to open and play with them immediately. 

But here’s the thing, I finally figured out how women shop.  I know, I’m 42 and have been married for 7 ½ years and I’m just now getting this.  Apparently women buy way more than they ever intend to keep.  They store it in their office, closet, or car and decide later whether to return them or not.  What is up with that?  No wonder everything is so expensive, they have to mitigate women’s shopping habits with the margins.  Come on ladies, buy it only if you’re going to keep it.  And it should look the same at the store as it does in your house.  Nita sometimes likes to see what things look like at home, I guess home is different than the store lighting. 

Connor loved watching the bobcat level the yard, even took a test drive (which he liked for a while, then it got a little scary). He asked Kara, “why are they taking apart my play scape?”  Once he was told they were going to level the ground, he turned to the Chapa brothers and said, “You need a front loader and a bulldozer.”  My boy.  He also had to test out the pea gravel.  But we’re very pleased with the outcome and now Josie and Connor can swing side by side, I got them some of those bucket swings that you find in parks.  So the next day, “Connor, what do you want to do today.”  “Uuuhhhh, go to Sea World!”  Dude! Consider me underwhelmed.