Lego Mess

I'm ready to take a chance again. I'm ready to put my love on the line, with Lego's. We've been living with a Lego pile for a while. It was so big I didn't know where to start. Finally thought it just turned into a lot of work. This is the first picture I took. I wish I'd taken a shot when this started, but I was probably to embarrassed.

and finally . . .

Jack's back to designing the Lego's, you can see his creations in the bottom left.  (Un)fortunately there were some casualties.  Not all sets are back together and we bought loose Lego's for Christmas so there are plenty to make his own.  He told me, "I'm a Lego artist, Dad. Can you go downstairs and get me something to drink so I can do my art?"

In flew Inza Bee

A couple weeks ago we were sorting out the Christmas presents and wrapping the ones that were already at home so they could be put under the tree to be gawked and fawned over.  It was obvious the girls have fewer presents than the boy; he noticed it, Madeline noticed it.

Madeline understood that her presents cost more, quantity isn't a measure of quality.  The girls knew what they were getting was more expensive, so there's less of it.  Jack doesn't quite comprehend this, and Madeline was playing around with him.

"Boy Jack, you've got a lot of presents."

"Yeah, I know," Jack replied, hesitating a little, not sure where this was going.

"Will you give some to Madeline, since she doesn't have as many?"

Jack thought for a couple heart beats then said, "No.  No sharing, Madeline."

But there was sharing, of something.  Terra caught influenza b strain.  Yuck.  Then Sunday, Madeline caught it.  Then Tuesday, I caught it.  Mom and Jack fortunately inoculated.  I know a couple other people that will follow that course next year.

How do you spell...

Jack will ask how to spell words all the time.  He asks, then you spell, and you can see him counting the letters on his fingers.

"How do you spell movie, dad?"

"Movie is spelled, M - O - V - " and I can look down at Jack and watch his fingers in fists, start to raise for every letter that is sounded off, " I - E."

"Five letters, Dad.  Movie has five letters."

Last weekend he was being really annoying, question after repeat question, like he would ask how to spell the same word three times, "What does 'I don't know mean'?" he asked me.

"Jack -- How do you spell Christmas?"

"hmm, I don't know, Dad."

"Well, that's what I don't know means."

He paused and replied, "'I don't know' means you can't spell Christmas?"

Which is right?

Which is right? Truly great things have a couple meanings.

My darling girls. They're the sweetest things.

"Don't get Dad anything for Father's Day. This is all I want," I told my girls earlier this week. We went to the EBT's restaurant for lunch. This is where I had my wedding rehearsal dinner, so it's a special place.

Madeline has asked to eat somewhere with a dance floor, "So we can dance, daddy." I truly dread this. "Why do I have to dance for the girl?" I think to myself.

The girls had different things in their head. They did have plans for Father's day.

Saturday, 6:15AM. 

Boom, clank, clank, clonk. The sound of steel echoing on steel from the pots and pans hammering into each other woke me up from the kitchen. The girls are making breakfast. I'm positive it's for me, this is their early Father's day present, I thought.

The day before we rode our bikes to the store.

Friday, 4:40PM

They picked out a cake mix.  Minutes before they asked for chocolate and vanilla cake frosting.   I told them it wasn't satisfactory in our house to eat icing on a spoon, "OK, well can we get a cake for the frosting?" they asked.

"Sure", I replied. I don't like icing that much, but I can put some cake in my gullet without a problem. We left the store with me riding my bike at a precarious, caty-wompus balance -- I was prepared to fall on my side repeating my sixth grade trek to middle school carrying six periods of homework and associated text books in my back-pack, while I attempted to center my back pack on my back while biking to school in the morning.

I made it home without repeating that event.

Saturday, 6:45AM

The girls bring up breakfast. "Here's breakfast," Terra proclaims handing me a plate.  I got a flour tortilla with egg and Tobasco. Yum. Pizza and eggs taste delicious with a little of that action. Mom received a plate with thawed frozen strawberries and some oatmeal. The lackluster delivery made up for delciousness. "That took a long time to cook," I thought, looking a breakfast burrito in my mouth. It was a little cold, what else where they doing? Of course, more going on.

Saturday, 6:55AM

 I can taste the tobasco. Who can eat breakfast without tobasco? I looked at my bank balacnes with the girls debit card's balances on my phone, like I pretty much always do -- you're only a victim survivor of credit fraud once. "What's the $40 withdrawal from Madeline's account from Walgreen's? and it's dated two days from now?!" I walk downstairs. I need some answers. I need espresso and caffeine. The girls are still clankering around. "Oh, good. Dad, since you're here, can you get the cake out of the oven? I'm scared of the heat." Yeah -- a couple weeks ago the girls turned on the wrong burner and things caught on fire -- I don't blame you for being afraid.

Friday, 7:40PM

Jack and I stayed at home while Mom and the girls go to Walgreen's to pick up some prescriptions. The girls go in by themselves and pick up some candy (and it turns out to be other things)


Saturday, 8:10AM

The girls aren't allowed to use their debit cards without a parent knowing. It's a rule. Electronic payments will kill a college kid, I want the girls to know what electronic payment means. For now it means you can't buy other stuff you want, in college it means massive debt on revolving accounts with nose-bleed interest rates. "What did you guys buy on Madeline's account at Wal Mart?" asking with the the brevity of parents that have been disobeyed. It took a while to get the information. Candy and sunglasses, for Father's Day is the answer. "Why did you spend so much on sunglasses? and candy?? for daddy? I'm so old my teeth are falling out, I can't eat candy!!! I don't need candy." There's some pouting and anger now by the girls. They proceed downstairs.

Makeup

Let's go downstairs and talk with the girls. They still don't get it. We walk down the stairs with determination, then I melted. The downstairs was setup for a surprise party. Streamers and balloons are everywhere, there's a table cover, the chairs have been setup for a family of five to sit. On the table is a box and a ginormous card. The girls have clearly spent hours working on this.

And speaking of the girls, they're a lump on the couch in the downstairs.  A lump of sobbing flesh for the talkings we've just had.

Question

So, what's the right thing? Continue with the discipline? acknowledge the effort that's been done? Praise and pretend to be ignorant? (and wrong?) or discipline, follow-through, and consistency?

Picutres in my head

Jack has pictures in his head. They're dreams! When his big iPod runs out of juice, we need to charge it up, Jack complains, "It's charged down."

driver's license

Jack calls my badge I use from work his driver's license. "That's my driver's license, Dad," he tells me.

It's not a license. It's the badge I use to get physical access to my building at work. I use it for other things at work, too.

Jack loves it, he wants it all the time. I take it away and he whines. This Sunday, he was allowed to wear it (big mistake on my part). We went over to see family and Jack played outside with his cousins on the tire swing, on the playground, and playing chase.

"Jack, where's Daddy's driver's license?" I asked the boy. "I don't know, Dad." My stomach inched up my throat a little. It's going to be difficult for me to get in to work without that "driver's license," I thought to myself.

"I don't know," replied the four year old, "It's in Mom's purse." Yeah, Mom, she rescued the badge.

So yesterday, we conspired to make Jack a driver's license. It looks exactly like mine does in a lot of ways. Madeline and I cut out a 1" by 1.5" picture of Jack from a photo and taped it on the badge with some shipper's tape. It really does look good. I got Jack a badge holder and an alligator clip (or whatever those are really called) so he could attach to his clothing.

When Jack came home we show him his new driver's license. Madeline and I are beaming and ask leading questions, "What do you think Jack?"

"I have a driver's license!!!" Jack exclaimed, "Now I can go to work with Daddy!!!!!"

Bam. Instant. Heart. Melts. Why do they have to be older than four?

Jack woke up this morning early, he wanted his driver's license and big Thomas train. He wore the driver's license all day at pre-school. The teachers thought it was adorable.

Throw Up

Jack threw up for the first time this weekend.

It was about 2:30AM and I heard the pitter-patter of feet from Jack's room to mine. He crawled in on his Mom's side. I tried to coaxing him on my side -- I woke up at 2:00AM for no reason, and was just looking up stuff on the Internet with my tablet, but Jack pretended he didn't hear me. Thirty minutes later there was a vomiting sound.

"Oh, No!!" Jack's Mom exclaimed and got up to take him to the toilet. He heaved a little, but quickly started crying, "What is it??" Jack creaked out, "What's coming from my belly?" It was the first time he'd thrown up since at least he was able to ask a question. He was slightly offended by the bile.

"Oh . . . Jack," Mom said sympathetically, "That's throw up, you're sick."

"Oh," then a pause, "What does throw up start with?" Jack croaked with fatigue and sickiness.

Mom and I both glanced a knowing look, this boy is obsessed with letters. "Throw up starts with a 'T', Jack," Mom replies.

I went and got a bucket from the Simple Human trashcan we have in our bedroom's bathroom and put that by the bed.

"What's that?" Jack asked inquisitively -- now pretty much wide awake.

"That's a bucket, Jack," I answered; and then responded out of reflex, "'Bucket' starts with a 'B.'"

"That's right, dad. Bucket starts with 'B.'"

Pants

Mom just held up a pair of shorts.

We've been trying to get Terra to pass off her laundry to little avail. Today she finally did.

"Here's how long I've been trying to get Terra to give me her laundry," Mom says holding up a pair of shorts before putting them in the washing machine.

Here's how short the shorts are:

Jack passes by, "Those are my shorts from when I was a baby."

Jack's Christmas Recital

Recital. Show. It's Jack. He's singing. With his best bud Blake.

In the Spirit of Hugging

I'm hugging an appliance. Now, my baby's catching the fever, too.

I don't mind doing dishes. Dishes themselves aren't so bad. I think almost half the work in getting dishes into the dishwasher (at least our old one) is the amount of work it would take to get a dish clean just with soap, water, and a scrubbing pad. I know now, I hate drying.

Drying is a pain in the neck. You end up with a soggy dish towel or a heap of paper towels. The water runs all over the counter and while the drying is occurring, it takes up valuable counter space.

This week we finally had the time to get the appliance repairman out. He announced the damage for getting it fixed; and there would still be a leak on the left side that would also need repair -- we nixed the dishwasher.

The new dishwasher runs without leaking. I'm really proud of that because I installed the new dishwasher (which was super easy). The old dishwashers are happy they only have to put dishes in the machine, and the broken dishwasher is in the garage -- waiting to get hauled out to the curb for someone else to scrap.

Polaroid

"There's a camera, that will print pictures automatically!" exclaimed Madeline.

"I think I have one those", I thought. I bought one a long time ago, before I had a digital camera that takes a million pictures at the cost of electrons on the battery.

I ran upstairs and combed through old boxes with older pictures. There it is -- the old Polaroid auto-focus, and with a "Made in England" stamp. What's this England? Aren't they the United Kingdom?

Sure enough, I can push the button and those Englander's or UK'ers have made some equpiment that still works 11 years later. The telltale "uunnnnnn-yahhhh" sound comes from the camera. Gray. Nothing. The film is out.

"But I really want to see what it looks like, Daddy!" Madeline tells me.

So begins the Quixotic quest to find Polaroid film. They are out of business -- in case you didn't know. Oh well. Kodak seems to be following closely behind them.

After looking on-line and coming to several dead ends, the Impossible Project finally had what I wanted.

Madeline was excited. "Can I take the next picture Daddy?" Of course you can, baby! (but just remember it's $3.00 a picture . . . ).

Brushing teeth Starts with "EN-Oh"

"Baby starts with Popsicle!" Jack screams and invites a parent to tickle him, almost begging to be tickled.

"Baby starts with 'B!'" a parent exclaims and throws the boy on the bed, while he is gleefully laughing hysterically.

Jack loves to spell. He loves it. "Mommy, what does Polaroid start with?" Jack will ask. "Polaroid starts with a 'pee'", sounding it out, "and 'pee' starts with a 'pee.'"

"I'nna say that," Jack replies.

"OK, Jack, what does Polaroid start with?" Mommy asks.

"Polaroid starts with a 'PEE'", Jack replies.

But not now -- Jack intentionally says words start with other words (obviously impossible), because he thinks it's funny.

The other night Dad said to Jack -- "Jack, it's time to brush your teeth."

"Brushing teeth starts with 'EN-OH'", replies Jack, clearly spelling "NO."

(Did he really know what he spelled there? I glanced a look at my son's mother)

Jack's mom was too busy laughing hysterically. And what else can you do? when the boy is jumping on the bed and screaming, "Baby starts with Popsicle!!!!!?"

All you can do is pin him down -- and tickle him until he laughs.

still under < 1000 %

or a buck short; someone that sees through the master plan.

I had a great Father's Day. It started the day before. I was not allowed to go downstairs. Allowed in the sense, "I'm paying for all this stuff," kind of of "allowed." This is a state of love and trust.

On Father's day at almost 7:10AM I heard the clinking of ceramic plates on each other. "Don't worry," I thought -- even though the girls' capacity for messiness grows logarithmically with their age, it'll be OK.

Sure enough, waiting for Mom and Dad in the way downstairs was a delicious helping of eggs and cheerios. Even the milk was laid out. Around the room were posters (8.5" x 11.0" paper) parameters saying "Dads' HDD (aka Happy Dad's Day)".

Happy Father's Day, Mike. -- it's all your fault.

got a few new things this weekend

I got a couple new things this weekend. I got some new shorts that aren't linen, therefore don't wrinkle after wearing them for two seconds. I got a GPS from the home team here in Olathe, KS at Costco, it's the nüvi 1390 with unlimited maps. I also got a new mini-van.

Oh yeah, you read that right, after months of searching and literally years of thinking about it, I've got some new wheels. It's a 2010, Chrysler Town and Country, still has 20,000 miles/two years on the factory warranty. We wanted three row seating the most, something with space for three kids and their friends. Now I've got four cars. I feel sorry for my neighbors, I'm kind of worried they might show up with a petition.

Not to worry, I need to fix a few things on the Hyundai, then sell that car, save the money, and start saving again to replace the next car, looking to fix up a Traverse, Acadia, one of those bigger crossover vehicles with all wheel drive next.

This weekend we took the new wheels out for a ride and and visited the Day out with Thomas fair in Baldwin City. We used the GPS to get there and I wore my new shorts.

Who knows what I might get next week. I've got a dentist appointment tomorrow morning . . . maybe I'll get a new grill.

Southside rebuilders

one of you are going to be mine. How'd you like to be the guy that drove a new car 1,169 miles and then got in a head on collision?

real gangsta

Real gansta's don't have to flex nuts. They grow 'em . . .

although not really the nuts like peanuts (which is a vegetable -- not a real nut that grows on a tree), here's my garden with coriander, cucumbers, tomatoes, peppers, and basil, chicken wire -- grows great sells at farmer's market, and wood.

Birds suck

We're watching Blue's Clues on Netflix, now. Jack is pretty interested. I like this more than Dora. Dora always yells, "GREAT!" at me.

About a week ago, we had some killer hail. My car was outside, my truck was outside. Lots of dimples on those two vehicles. One of Madeline's friend's Mom had $6,500 in damage to her car. Two of the "blinds" in Terra's bedroom were knocked out by the hail.

Terra's room is upstairs. It used to be the laundry room. That's awesome in a four bedroom house with one kid at home, less awesome with three kids. That room's laundry hookups were converted ages ago. We moved the laundry downstairs to the basement and disconnected the upstairs ages ago.

The vent stayed outside, obviously. Two of the blinds were knocked out, like I said, which is just enough room for two birds to creep their ugly corpses in.

Sunday, Mom vacuumed the house and closed the door to Terra's room. Jack and Madeline don't need to be in there. Jack grabs stuff he probably shouldn't. Wednesday, Terra comes over for the night.

We went to PTO night at Sonic that Wednesday, and we tipped the server. (Misty and I ate at home, this was for the girls and boy).

The girls rode the razor on the sidewalk with their friends later that night. Jack started to ride his two wheeler, and was going really fast, enough that I had to stand him down and stop him from going speedily down the sidewalk. His favorite is turning around.

Later, it was time for Terra to go back to her Mother's house, and she went to her room to get some clothes. "Daaaaaaad! There's a dead bird in my room."

"What the . . . ", I thought. I couldn't believe it. I went up the stairs and entered the room.

Sure enough. There it was. OMG. A dead bird, in my girl's room.

Black with white spots, there it was. I picked it up and bit the head off.

Just kidding. I picked it up with a plastic bag and another plastic bag, then put it in another plastic bag and tied that off so it was air tight. The trash men are coming tomorrow, after all.

"We just got a letter, wonder who's it from?" way to go Steve -- I'm glad you and Blue's Clues , you're so much better than Dora, I love it that you don't yell at me.

Sure enough, there's a dead bird in the room. I can't believe I didn't stop and think of that. Terra's closet has a hole that goes outside for a dryer vent. The dryer vent had two blinds broken, more than enough room for a silly bird to push through.

Then the bird spent at least a day trying to get out. Bird poop is all over the window. "Dad, what's the circles on my dresser?!" Uhh, baby, the circles are bird poop. So is the white circles all along the window that looks like an army with dysentery stopped by.

The room is empty now. "BAM" is the best. I couldn't get the circles off the dresser, the carpet, the bed, or the window sill without that stuff.

I didn't take any pictures. We ate outside for dinner tonight. Every bird that I saw flying through our yard, and perching its comfortable legs on my trees or bushes . . . . I wanted to get my 0.22 out and shoot the daylights out of it.

Jack's laughing hysterically about something Steve is doing. I'm laughing just because he is, way to go Blue's Clues. Dora . . . your days are numbered on Netflix, I feel.

Tale of Two Shots

We went to Terra's basketball game last weekend. They sell concessions at the high school. Jack and Madeline got their fair share of candy and sugar to start the game off right. Terra started the first quarter. Her team is playing man-on-man and she's doing great; for a while the concept that she is supposed to stay between her man and the goal didn't sink in quite right, but she's clearly doing it right now.

Madeline's minding Jack, who's running up and down the bleachers like crazy.

One fast break down the court, Terra's teammate was fouled while shooting a field goal -- two free throws. Moans and groans from the team, cheers from the parents and family in the bleachers. Everyone lines up to shoot the first free throw.

Terra's team mate gets the ball from the referee, the player takes two dribbles and lines up preparing to shoot, and the crowd quiets itself out of politeness.

The next thing heard was "I got to go poop, Dad!" very loudly from Jack.

Laughter all around. I was a little embarrassed. If he hadn't said, Dad, I would have asked Madeline to take him, but I volunteered. It was a long one. I got back in the second quarter, Terra from the side lines across the court mouths the excited words, "I made a shot!" Her first shot! I mouthed back, "I'm proud of you."

She played a great game, not just on defense. She hustled, didn't quite dive for a ball, but there's only one person in the league I've seen do that, she played her position, and had controlled dribbling. She didn't however score again Terra moped that I didn't see it -- so did I.

Fast forward to the evening and Madeline's basketball game. Madeline made a shot at the beginning of the year, but has since then she's been shy about shooting. Misty told her, "If you're under the basket -- shoot." She's usually taller than the girls guarding her, and she is stronger.

Her team was down 6 - 8, and came down the court on on offense, about halfway through the second half. One of her friends shoots the ball, misses the basket, but Madeline reaches up and makes the rebound -- then almost instantly shoots. I hear a slap on her forearm. She's been fouled while shooting, the whistle blows, and BAM, the basket goes in. The crow cheers, and so do I.

I look down and Terra's devastated. She can't believe I missed her shot.

Jack and Bob

Jack loves Spongebob. We have it on our iPods and Jack watches. He laughs and giggles, its incredibly cute. He's been singing the song. If you've never seen it, the last part is the guy singing "SpongBob Squarepants" while the character Spongebob dances on the letters spelling his name.

Jack and Mom went to pick up some clothes at the dry cleaner. While waiting for the cashier to register the items, Jack started laughing and giggling to himself, and asked Mom, "What's his name, Mom? What's his name?"

"I don't know Jack."

"What's his name Mom?" Jack giggles some more, insisting a little more.

"I don't know Jack," and Mom looks at the name tag, "Bob. It's bob."

Jack laughed again, giggling and say, "I know Mom. His name is Spongebob."

Lights 2010

People are driving by our house so slow now. Every year my neighbor sets up the light display in our block and we're a part of it. He owned his own business, they make light displays for towns, companies, and our neighborhood. He's retired and now his son runs the business.

This year with he passed out flyers with the start date. The whole family drove their trucks and hauled the light displays from storage. We were there to help, the girls love it. Now it's almost all working, they're still tinkering with some of the more intricate parts of the setup. Friday, someone was taking a picture of his family in front of our house.

Each house has a plastic container that houses a circuit board that controls about 24 relays. The circuit board is connected over ethernet to a central computer. There are about twelve of the plastic containers that all are synchronized with music that control when the poles, candy canes and snow flakes go on or off. The bigger displays are just on timers, they are on all night.

We got the train this year, previously we get the snow men. The train is my favorite; Jack and the girls agree.