Over protective?

Mama had to run some errands, so Papa got to hang out with his three little ladies.  Being the multi-tasker that I am, I decided to go ahead and make dinner at the same time.  I fired up the grill and had just put the pork burgers on when the dogs started barking incessantly.  I checked on the girls and found the twins entertaining Ruby, so I went around the house to see what was going on. 

We had a raccoon in the yard a few months ago, which, according to Brynne, I broke...with a pellet gun.  I had to make sure we didn't have anything else potentially dangerous.  I got to where the dogs were and scanned the yard.  Nothing.

Ralphie and I both use pellet guns to "break" things.

I turned to head back to the grill and something caught my eye.  It appeared to be a bird that had fallen out a tree.  I started walking towards it, and so did the dogs.  The "bird" then struck out at the dogs, and was batted back with an incredibly quick paw.

So much for the bird.  It was a four and a half foot rat snake, coiled up and not looking pleased.

I put the dogs in their pen, trotted over to the barn to retrieve a shovel, and came back to find the snake right where I left it.  Five seconds later there were two snakes.  One was about three inches long and the other was four and a quarter feet long.

Both were still moving, but since the smaller snake had once been the larger snakes head, neither were harmful any longer.  I scooped them up and went back to the grill. 

To answer the question everyone is thinking, no, our entrée did not change.

After flipping the burgers, I brought the girls outside to see the snake.  Immediately, and not at all surprising, they tried to touch it, which I discouraged.  The body was still trying to slither away, though it was wrapped up in a rake and couldn't go anywhere.  It had left the head to fend for itself on the shovel.  The snake's mouth would open wide, then close slowly, only to reopen again.  Hadley thought it was funny that

"The snake is trying to eat Mama's shovel!" 

After watching it for a few minutes, we went inside to finish supper preparations. 

Mama came home and walked to the front door.  The girls and I were just inside, awaiting her return for two reasons.  First, so we could eat dinner.  Second, to see how she would react to the snake.  To say that Mama was not a fan of snakes would be an understatement.  We wondered if she would scream.  We had actually discussed that very question and were eager to find the answer.

To her credit, she never screamed.  As she walked up the front walk she looked to her left, did a double take, then shot up the stairs to the front door.  There was a barely audible "hey...hey...there's a...hey", followed by Mama nearly putting her fist through the glass door several times.

I opened the door smiling and asked what was wrong.  She pointed toward the snake, and finally was able to utter the word "snake".

I really hope this is the sign for snake crossing and not an indicator of the curve of the road ahead.

Once I pointed out it had no head, and she got over the fact that it was still wriggling around, she calmed down.  Not really, she brought it down a tiny bit, but was still keyed up.

At dinner, the girls repeatedly asked:

"Mama, why did you bang on the door?  It was just a snake."  

When we were done eating, we were going to head over to the neighbor's house to visit.  As we got our shoes on, Brynne calmly stated:

"Mama, you can walk next to me and I'll hold your hand so you won't be startled if we see another snake."

So what do you think?  Is my Brynne over protective of her Mama?  Does this make her a helicopter child?

Well, that scared the $#!t out of me

It all started around bedtime.  I was getting the girls ready for bed and noticed the only clean pajamas they had were winter ones.  Instead of dressing them up in shorts and their regular shirts, I decided to just let them wear one of my old t-shirts as a nightgown.


Did I mention they were old t-shirts?

After putting them down, I headed out to my baseball game.  I got back home around 11:30 and, as it usually happens, I was unable to go right to sleep.  I tossed and turned for quite some time, hearing every click of the house, but not really paying much attention to them.

At some point, Mama sat up and asked me if I heard that noise.  I listened, but as I had already been wide awake and hadn't heard anything, I dismissed it.

I saw the clock turn to 2 AM, and then drifted off shortly thereafter.

SUDDENLY, Mama sat up, inhaling sharply and loudly.

This brought me out of my new found sleep and wide awake with the adrenaline pumping.  I could see the direction she was looking as her eyes were cartoonish in their size, and reflecting the tiny bit of light coming from the nightlight in the bathroom.  There should have been more light, was my first thought.  The nightlight is pretty bright, and serves to light not only the bathroom, but the hallway as well.

As I turned my head to look where she was staring, I discovered why the light was dim.

This is eerily similar to what I saw.

There, hovering in the door, was a creature of some sort.  It had no feet, and was clutching what appeared to be the remains of two dead animals.  I couldn't make out a face, and I wasn't sure I wanted to.  The hovering led me to believe we had ourselves a ghost.  Perhaps it was the little girl who allegedly fell into a cistern and died somewhere on the property. Perhaps there were other stories I didn't know of.  Perhaps it didn't matter what it had once been, it only mattered what it was now and what it wanted.

My senses were heightened.  Muscles firing, waiting for the instructions on what to do next.  Pupils dilating, trying to see as much as possible in the dim room.  Sweat glands in overdrive, creating a slick surface on my body so nothing could grab hold of me.  Brain processing every possible move I could make to keep my family safe, or to distract the creature so they could all get to freedom.  Nose flaring in an attempt to pick up some clue from smell as to a weakness I could exploit.  Ears so tuned in I could hear the slightest breeze blowing through the corn in the garden.  Fight or flight was not an option, only fight.

The ghost said nothing.  It did nothing.  It had no smell.  I couldn't make out any more details of it.  It made not a sound.  The seconds turned into what felt like hours as we each waited for the other to make the first move. 

Then it began to moan.

"Mama startled me!"

was all it could state before it started crying and gliding toward me, Frankenstein style with arms outstretched, dead animals hanging limply from each hand.  It was obviously coming to claw my throat.

Just before I started chanting and trying to exorcise the evil spirit in the name of Jesus Christ, my brain changed paths, and took my body from red alert to no alert.  Somehow, while my brain was analyzing all possible scenarios, a part of it made a connection - the ghost was actually just Brynne.

Let's take another look at that picture of the girls before bed, but with a bit of editing.

With the minimal amount of light, the grey shirt was accented, while her feet were shaded.  Her hair in the picture appears to be cropped, but it was just tucked in.  When free to fall wherever it may, it covers about 2/3 of her torso, which blocked her face from sight.  The "dead animals" were actually Eeyore and a giraffe, which she has in bed with her.

After a quick conversation with Brynne, she went back to bed.  I then changed our sheets and my undies and laid back down.  Sleep would not come to meet me for another few hours, as my friend  adrenaline had to leave first.

New talents

I was speaking with my mother the other day and she asked if the girls were trying to climb out of bed yet.  I told her no, but they have been trying to climb into bed.  They have yet to be successful because of the way their cribs are built.

With Julia out of town last week, I prepared the new baby's room.  The crib we have for the new baby is not built the same.  I really didn't give it too much thought as I assumed the girls wouldn't mess with it.

I was in the room with them while they were picking up.  The buzzer on the oven went off, so I went to get my lunch out.  When I walked back in 30 seconds later, I was greeted by this.

They are quicker than I thought.

Actually, this was about five seconds later as I had to grab the camera.  What I saw when I entered the room was Brynne straddling the crossbar.  She said

"Please pull me up sister."

Hadley moved to help her just as she fell into the crib.

Looks like I'll have to turn the crib around or find some way to toddler proof it.

Haunted House?

Early this morning, at about 4:30 AM, I was roused from a wonderful dream by Hadley's voice coming through the toddler monitor.  Calling it a baby monitor just isn't appropriate as they are now "big girls".  She let me know she had to go potty.  I stumbled into her room, half awake, scooped her up, and headed to her "big girl potty" in her bathroom. 

When I scoop her up in the middle of the night she is almost always overly clingy.  Maybe she's cold, or maybe she just wants to be close in the dark.  Either way, she's like a little backpack hanging on the front of me with her arms wrapped tightly around my neck.

As I carried her in front of me I was suddenly stopped.  Actually, I was bounced back a bit and almost fell.  I wasn't initially sure what was going on.  In my semi-conscious state I assumed my progress was being halted by a supernatural force.  Some evil spirit or sinister demon was preventing me from taking her to the potty.  I imagined this mean spirited poltergeist was trying to get me soaked with urine.

Vomit is worse than urine.  I can attest to that.

I reached my free hand out to see if I could push through the resistance that way.  I could not.

The apparition was unlike anything I'd ever heard or read about.  It was solid.  It was everywhere in front of me, blocking my progress.  It was also smooth.  Almost too smooth.  I couldn't feel any difference no matter where I moved my hand.  No lumps.  No cracks.  Not even a wrinkle.  The resistance was the same no matter where I touched.

Then, my hand brushed against something that was different.

It was small and round.  It fit into my hand very easily.  It felt familiar.

Had I grabbed a hold of this handle I think I would have soiled myself.

And why shouldn't it?  It was a doorknob.  I shut the door to their bathroom earlier in the night, something I don't ever do - obviously for good reason.

There was no unexpected visitor, but I had managed to soften the blow of walking into a door in the middle of the night by using a Hadley bumper.  Poor girl got squished between me and the door.

"Sorry for running you into the door, Hadley.  I didn't realize it was shut."

Her reply:

"That's OK, Papa.  You didn't mean to.  I'm fine."

Such a grown up conversation

Here is the conversation between the girls while playing in the basement tonight. 

If I had any tech skills I'd put pictures of them in here, but I don't, so you have to use your imagination.

Hadley:  Sister, come get me out of the tent.  (For the record, the first few times she asked, she would wait until sister was right up on her, then she'd sit down, laughing, and say no, no, no.)

Brynne:  I'm busy, be there in a minute.

H:  Sister, I need you to help me now.

B:  One second, almost done.  Okay, I'm coming.

H:  Pull me out the window.

B:  How do you ask?

H:  Brynne-e-boo Elise, please pull me out of the window, yes you may.

B:  Okay.  (grabs sister in a bear hug through the "window" of the tent, leans back with her, and they both fall to the ground, roaring with laughter).

H:  Thank you, Brynne.

B:  (while crawling through the tunnel to get into the tent) You're welcome.  (Now standing in the window) Hadley-roo Adah, please pull me out the window.

H:  I'm busy, just a minute or two.

B:  Hadley, I need your help now.

H:  I'm busy, Love.  Be there soon.

B:  Papa, please pull me out the window.

H:  (as she runs across the room) NO!  I'M COMING!!  HADLEY WILL DO IT!  (Proceeds to grab Brynne via the same bear hug and lean back.  Unfortunately, Brynne is a bit bigger, her head catches on the top of the "window", and as they fall back, the tent comes with them).

B:  Ooopsadaisies!

H:  The tent went crash boom with Brynne and Hadley.

Giggles ensue.

Both:  Papa, please fix the tent now, yes you may.

Thanks for the...uh...help?

As I mentioned the other day, the girls are repeating every thing we say.  They are also mimicking our actions.  They so desperately want to be helpful, and they are most times.  A few times, however, they've missed the mark.

Some of the shorter examples of this include putting shoes on the wrong feet, closing doors and drawers that are still needing to be open (fridge, pantry, etc.), and buckling themselves into their high chairs about an hour before a meal is ready.

One other instance will take a bit more explanation - so here it is.

Julia and I each have a glass of water on the nightstand when we go to bed.  In the mornings, we typically dump any remaining water into a plant or the sink, and start with a fresh glass each night.  Brynne has seen this procedure countless times.

Do you drink enough water?

She also sees me putting all my beauty products back into my drawer in the bathroom each morning when I'm done with them.  As they finish each meal, they observe me washing, drying, and putting away dishes.  They've really done an excellent job of learning to pick up after themselves and put everything where it belongs.  Almost. 

I came into the bathroom Monday and slipped in a little puddle of water.  I noticed my water glass sitting on the sink.  Brynne followed me in and had a grin on her face - she was so pleased with herself for helping out.

I grabbed a towel and cleaned up the spillage, praising her for helping and knowing what to do without having first been told.  I then went to get the deodorant out of my drawer.  It was sitting a little higher than everything else.  Actually, it was floating. 

I looked back to Brynne, but she had vacated the premises.  I'm now not sure if that smile was from being pleased or from the satisfaction of a cleverly devised prank.

She apparently thought EVERYTHING went into the drawer.  The good news is the drawers appear to be watertight.  The bad news is that not every container in there is.

I found her in the living room and told her water goes in the sink, NOT in Papa's drawer.  She nodded, said yes sir (which Mama has been working on with them), and went to get a book to read.

Last night, as I was putting them down to bed, I carried them into the bathroom and slipped again.  This time, the puddle was much larger.  This time, there were two water glasses on the sink.  There was no praise now, and there was no smile either.  I opened the drawer to find exactly what I expected - everything again floating on two glasses worth of water.

We had a very one-sided conversation about where water goes.  I then had a one-sided discussion with myself to make sure I remembered to dump out my excess water every morning.

Caught in the act

Hadley rarely gets disciplined.  Brynne, well, let's just say she doesn't get away with much of anything.
Based on that statement, you might think Hadley is an angel and Brynne is a demon.  You're wrong if you're thinking that.  They're both demons, but Hadley is sneaky.  I assume anyone with children has this same issue, so I'll add my foolproof methods to catching the sneaky demon child in the act.

It felt like this when it happened to me, but I can now see the other side of it.

Here are a few scenarios and the corresponding actions to take as a parent:

SCENARIO:  It's nap time.  We can hear the squeaking of the springs in their beds as they jump up and down - a clear violation of rules.  When Julia goes into the room to check on them, she finds Hadley laying down with her eyes closed and Brynne bouncing.  We know they were each jumping, as we can identify the unique sounds their beds make, but Hadley is laying there quietly.

SOLUTION - Burst through the door and don't give Hadley a chance to lay down.  The only downfall is she tries to move quicker, usually resulting in her cracking her head against the side of the bed.  It might be difficult (for the parent) to discipline a child who is already crying, but I know she's faking it and hoping it will get her out of trouble.  Nice try little demon!

SCENARIO:  They're playing in the living room.  We can hear them calling for Winnie and Fiona.  As we enter the room we find Brynne standing on the couch, looking over the back at the dogs, while Hadley is sitting down, trying to look all innocent.  Sometimes, she's gone so far as to have a book in her lap.

SOLUTION:  Since they don't do this when we're in the room, I go outside.  Then, when I look in the window I can clearly watch her.  Someday, she'll figure out I can see inside, but for now, she is oblivious.

SCENARIO:  In most sports, the retaliation penalty is called, but not the initial foul.  Both girls are good at inflicting the first blow covertly.  Hadley can make the payback appear to be accidental contact, such as stumbling into her sister and knocking her down, or swinging a toy without looking to see if anyone or anything is in the vicinity.  Brynne, on the other hand, is just a bulldozer.  You could put a brick wall between them and she'd go all Kool-Aid man on it to get at her sister.

I think the Kool-Aid man is using steroids, not a sugary drink, to get his energy and rage.

SOLUTION:  Not every scenario has a good solution.  Sometimes you just can't catch it all.  Unless we see the first shot, or unless there is evidence of it (bite marks, a hand print, etc.), we might have to let it go.  Soon, the girls will be able to tell us exactly what was done to them, but for now, we are stuck guessing. 

Probably not a good idea

There are some days when the girls refuse to want to do anything we propose.  All they do is yell "NO", cry, and attack one another.  Sometimes they attack Mama, but that doesn't end well for them.  Once, they attacked Papa.  It hasn't happened a second time.

I think I have the answer!

We have a wonderful dog run in the back yard.  For you city folk, a dog run is simply a pulley suspended on a cable, strung between two immovable objects - trees in our case.  Our two dogs seem to enjoy it immensely, so why wouldn't the girls?  Since we already have the line up, and a dual lead, all I need to do is figure out some way to hook the girls up.

They could then run back and forth, barking at the neighbors and playing in the rocks, all without fear of escape.  The area has plenty of shade, so all we'd need to do is set out a bowl of water in case they get thirsty.  What could go wrong? 

Obviously, trying to get the girls worn out with minimal effort on my behalf is the primary goal.  Making sure our crazy neighbors don't call the police is second, and safety is somewhere up there as well.

Here's what I've come up with so far:

1 - I could put them in a pair of jeans, and attach the lead to their belt loops.  Probably the best idea, but still it has drawbacks.  Strangulation, losing the children to the department of child and family services, and serious injury are just a few.  

2 - I could use the harnesses we have for taking the dogs on walks, when we used to take them on walks.  Scratch this one, the harness is too small. 

3 - Mama could sew a metal ring (see #10) into their jackets with her new sewing machine.  On second thought...

4 - I could just wrap the line around their waist and clip the lead to itself. 

Upon further review, unless any of you have a good idea for a safer connection, I've decided to pass on this.  While it seemed like a good idea when I started writing this, the possible bad outcomes outweigh the good one.

While the dogs have never been injured out there, they don't have opposable thumbs.  I'm sure my little Houdini girls would figure out a way to escape and roam the neighborhood.

When God closes a door...

Hadley opens it.

A few months back I did a little extra child proofing by putting the door knob covers on all the doors we didn't want the girls opening.  It turned out to be a bit premature, so Mama took them off while I was at work one day. 

They ended up being more of a hassle to us than a preventative measure for the girls as they had yet to figure out the mechanics of the door knob.

That all changed the other day. 

It was just about bedtime and the girls were winding down.  After their bath, we put a hair band on each of them to keep the hair out of their eyes.  Hadley decided she was done with hers, and Brynne agreed shortly thereafter. 

I saw Hadley walking toward our bedroom.  She paused at the door, holding the two hairbands in her hand.  Brynne began dancing around so I turned to watch her.

A minute later I heard the bathroom door shut.  The master bathroom door, which is obviously off the master "suite", which can only be accessed by going through our bedroom.  I assumed the wind from an open window had closed it, but as I walked toward our room I noticed our door was open - wind doesn't open doors.

Hadley (while her sister created a diversion) had opened our door, opened the bathroom door, opened Mama's drawer in the bathroom, and returned the hairbands to their proper storage location in anticipation of using them again after the next bath.  She walked out as if nothing had happened, informing me that she was "all done".

The closing of the door, I believe, served three purposes.  First, we've taught them to pick up after themselves and always leave things/places nicer than they found them, which includes putting stuff away in the proper location.  Second, they have learned to always close doors.  Third, she was covering her tracks.

I guess it's about time to put the door covers back, but I have a dilemma.

If I reinstall them, Brynne won't have the opportunity to figure out how to open a door yet.  If I don't reinstall them, the odds are very high the girls will now have free reign to rooms that are not supposed to be accessible to them.

As I see it, I have three options: 

1 - Cover all door knobs to keep them in their quarantined area. 

2 - Cover no door knobs and give them unlimited access.

3 - Cover only those doors that lead to unsafe places so Brynne can work on opening the other one - which leads to the hall closet.

If I knew anything about blogger technology I would include a vote button here, but since I don't, all I can do is ask for your comments.  What do you think I should do?

PS - for those of you that are new to reading my writing rambling, the embedded links are three of my personal favorites from last summer and fall, which just happen to fit in here, I think.  Hope you hop over to them and read a bit of my "old" stuff.

The Bird

Not really.

Actually, it was a beautifully clear Saturday morning, but the other intro sounds scarier.  We were at the park and there were birds, ducks, and swans all around us.

One of the swans came up to us so Mama fed it the only thing she had handy - a peanut butter cracker sandwich thing.

It enjoyed the treat, and wanted more.

It came closer.  Brynne reached out her hand to pet it and it snapped at her.  It snapped a second time, coming within inches of her cute little nose - apparently confusing her button nose for a button shaped treat.  Brynne didn't so much as flinch.

You are about to get a whooping Mr. (or Mrs.) Swan

Papa intervened at this point.  I put myself between the swan and Brynne, holding out one arm to ward it off and the other to hold Brynne back.  The swan, still delirious from the wonderful peanut butter cracker thing, tried to take a bite out of my arm.  Obviously, it thought I was either afraid of it or it didn't realize I was much bigger than the child it just tried to attack. 

I didn't move my arm and so it's beak grabbed on, ever so briefly.  They have tiny little teeth, and they are mildly sharp, but they didn't break the skin or even leave a red mark. 

The swan pulled back, trying to judge the situation.  When it came in for the second attempt to bite my arm it met my closed fist instead.

Dear PETA members - I did not punch the swan.  I merely held my fist out and the swan initiated all contact with my stationary hand. No animal abuse here. 

The swan then realized the gravity of it's mistake and went off in search of other snacks.  Unfortunately, the first thing it saw was Mama and Hadley.  It took a few steps toward them, realizing this was the actual source of the food. 

Hadley was holding a cracker, waiting to throw it.  The swan moved in and took a shot at the cracker.  It missed, but managed to hit Hadley in the pig tail.  Hadley looked stunned, and nothing more, but was quickly moved to tears when Mama screamed.

The swan, perhaps a mother itself, recognized the scream and decided it was better off searching elsewhere for food.  It scampered off with Brynne and I serving as escorts.  Brynne got a big kick when it flapped it's wings and waddled away.

Everyone was fine.  Mama apologized for her scream to the first person she saw.  Unfortunately, that person happened to be someone jogging by who had not heard the incident due to his headphones.  He gave a confused look as she spoke at him, nodded, and picked up his pace - putting distance between himself and the crazy woman.

Mighty neighborly of ya!

Before you read the details I am about to provide, please hop over to my wife's blog and get the high level summary.  My post won't make any sense until you do that.

Ready?  OK!

When the 14 year old cop showed up and was very short with us, I gave him some lip back.  I'm not ordinarily like this with authority figures, but this guy was being a bit of a douchebag, pardon my language.

Isn't it past your bedtime?

He informed us he had been in the neighborhood for 10 or 15 minutes and that he hadn't heard the dogs much.  That was, until he parked in front of our house and came up to the door.  Then they were loud.  I politely explained the reason they were barking is because a stranger was coming to our door.  Isn't that what dogs do???

He had no answer for that, so I pushed on. 

I asked who called the police?  He wouldn't tell me.  Not couldn't tell me, but wouldn't.  I informed him, politely, that in case he missed the day in school where they talked about the Bill of Rights (or perhaps hadn't made it that far in school yet),  I have the right to face my accuser.  He said he wouldn't tell me who it was.  I asked again, since it is my right. He informed me that he would not be telling me who it was, but if I wanted to go to the police department next week I was free to do that.

After I was ignored when I asked again why he wouldn't tell me the name since it was my right, he proceeded to threaten me.  I was told if he received one more call tonight he would send us a ticket for an excessive dog barking violation. 

I could see this would not go anywhere with him, so I shut the door and brought the dogs into the garage, where they had to stay in their cages houses for a few hours.  Just for giggles, I checked the law.  It is possible to get a ticket for excessive barking, based on a nuisance clause.  There is not a definition of what qualifies for a nuisance, so I can only assume that if one person calls the police twice in a night that is enough.  It doesn't seem to matter that you've lived somewhere for five years, always had dogs, and never received so much as a complaint.  It also doesn't matter that no other neighbor has a problem with our dogs.  This was 7 PM - not 2 AM.

As we left for dinner, I stopped in at the neighbor that I thought was responsible.  They had not called the cops.  She hadn't even heard the dogs, and went a step farther in saying that even if they had been barking it would have been because her cat runs free and constantly antagonizes the dogs.  Also, she had seen the police next door, so I marched on over.

The lady answered the door on my third knock, and here is the conversation - pretty much word for word:

Me:  Hi, I'm Brad, I live behind you and you just called the cops on me because you said my dogs were barking too much.  I am sorry they bothered you, but going forward, if you ever have an issue with them I would appreciate it if you would just come to my door and let me know.  I'll take care of it without having to call the cops away from other more pressing duties.

I was polite.  I was apologetic.  I thought it was done.  I was wrong.

Her:  Your dogs have been outside for two hours and it's too cold out.

Me (a little stunned):  So the barking wasn't the issue?  Why wouldn't you have just come to me and said something?  My dogs love being outside and I can assure you if there was the slightest chance they were too cold I would have brought them in.

Her:  You have them tied to a tree, in this cold weather.  I just didn't want to see any more graves in your backyard.

At this point her husband joined her at the door.

Me:  My dogs are on a 30 foot dog run with a ten foot lead.  That gives them plenty of room to run around and exercise.  As for the graves, what are you talking about?

Her:  I can see those little white crosses in your backyard.  I'd never let my dogs out when it's this cold.

While it might have made me feel better, it wouldn't have helped.

Me (trying not to laugh in her face):  First off, those crosses aren't in my backyard - they are on my neighbor's property.  Second, those little crosses have the words "tomatoes", "cucumbers", and "peppers" written on them - I don't name my dogs after fruits and vegetables.  They are in a raised garden which is full of vegetables.  Finally, I appreciate your concern for my dogs, but since you don't know anything about them, what you would or would not do is not relevant. 

I don't think she knows the meaning of relevant and I probably should have used smaller words for her, but oh well.

Her, to her husband:  Don't you think it's too cold for dogs to be outside.

Her husband shrugs.

I introduce myself to him again, shake his hand, and ask him to please call me before calling the cops next time they have an issue with me.  I wanted to say "next time you think you know more about running my affairs than I do", but I'm pretty sure he had no idea she called the cops as he was not defending her or even supporting her, so I chose not to escalate this.

I can't wait for their dog to get out of their fenced-in yard again this summer as he is prone to do.  We'll still put it on our dog run, give it water on a 100 degree day, and return it to them when they get home as we've done in the past.  As much as I'd like to call animal control just to throw it in her face, I won't.  That would neither be the neighborly nor the Christian thing to do. 

I think I might still inform her that it is too hot for a dog to be running loose and that I'd never do that to my dogs - I guess we'll see. 

Maybe I'll put a gravestone in their front yard some night.

Battle of the Birds

Ever hear about an athlete claiming he or she doesn't consider himself or herself a role model?  That they shouldn't be looked up to by kids just because of how they earn their money or because they're in the public eye? 

Ever hear a parent say they aren't a role model?

Ever see a parent doing something and want to go smack the tar out of them for those actions?

Today just happened to be a day when I got to experience that.  Not once, but thrice, in a matter of minutes.

Situation 1 - On the way to work, the car in front of me (and one lane over to the right) starts drifting into my lane.  There's a healthy gap between us, so I'm not too concerned.  There is also a driver in front of me in the lane to my left.  He starts drifting into my lane as well. 

I back off a bit as these two cars are moving to occupy the same spot and I don't want to hit them if they end up colliding.

I'm not sure if they see each other so I honk, just to get their attention.  Both of them immediately swerve back into their lanes.  I can then see the driver on the left screaming like a fool while flipping the bird to the other driver. 

The other driver responds by rolling his window down, extending his arm, and returning the greeting - accompanied by what I can only assume to be gracious words of encouragement.  I'm sure he wanted to make sure the first driver knew how much he wanted him to have a pleasant day.

They speed up and slow down, trying to cut each other off - nearly wrecking several times.  I decided at this point I've seen enough so I speed up to get away from them.  As I approach the cars I notice that each of them has the same bumper sticker.

You can't make this stuff up.

As I pass the cars, I also notice each of them has additional passengers in their back seats.  Sitting there quietly, strapped into their car seats, are a couple of little children.  Soaking up everything.

I try not to judge the drivers.  I try not to think bad thoughts about them.  It's not easy.

Situation 2 - Not five minutes later I am passing another car.  The windows are rolled up, there is cigarette smoke filling the car, and again, there is another little child sitting in a car seat in the back.

At least this window is down, I guess.

I wanted to call the cops and report child endangerment, but I'm not even sure it's illegal to smoke with a child in the car.  Ridiculously stupid and irresponsible?  Yes.  Illegal?  Perhaps it should be if it isn't already.

Situation 3 - A few minutes pass and I'm getting off the interstate.  The car in front of me on the ramp is full of activity.  It's in the lane to exit left and I am going right.  As I pass this car I notice four children in the backseat of a Corolla.  I'm not so good with ages of other children, but I can't imagine any of them are older than five.

Not street legal.

None of them are in a car seat. 

None of them are even buckled in.

The driver is putting on makeup and appears to be singing along with the radio.  Either that or she's yelling at the kids.

It makes me sad to think about all three of these situations.  Sad for the children that they would be raised to think this is normal behavior.  Sad for the parents that they would think this is acceptable behavior. 

I know it's not my place to tell others how to raise their kids.  Everyone has their own methods and I respect that.  I only respect that, however, until it becomes an issue of child endangerment. 

I really wish I'd written down all of their license plates and passed them on to the proper authorities, but I didn't.

The question is:  Should I have done that?  Thoughts?

A story from long ago

I read This Daddy's post about pain medicine, and couldn't help but think back to my own experience.  I thought I'd share it here as it, in my opinion, is a pretty good story. 

CHIIIEEEFFF!!!

I had back surgery over ten years ago.  The surgery itself was supposed to leave a scar the size of an eraser you would find on the end of a pencil.  It ended up being the length of an eraser you would use on a chalkboard since they had to cut through (and subsequently reattach) the muscles in my back to completely fix everything.  As it turned out, the surgery was not as "simple" as the surgeon originally thought; he found more damage in need of repair once he got me opened up.

When I got home, after a brief 23 hour visit to the hospital for the procedure, I had Vicodin and muscle relaxers waiting for me.  Even with the medicine I was in pretty bad pain.  I couldn't lay down, because I couldn't get back up on my own.  I didn't realize this, unfortunately, until the middle of the night when I had to visit the little boy's room.  I made it, but just barely, and it really hurt.  Let me clarify - getting to the bathroom hurt, not the act of pottying.

For the next few days, I lived in a recliner.

On the second day after surgery, I ate a little breakfast, popped my pills, and settled back in my throne to watch Sportscenter.  For those of you that aren't familiar with ESPN's lineup back then, they basically replayed Sportscenter every hour from 6 AM to noon, and then would loop a new one from 4 PM to 6 PM.

On this particular day I started watching Sportscenter at 7 AM.  I planned to watch just one episode and then put in a movie.  All I remember from that day is watching the first half of the 7 AM show and the second half of the 5 PM show.  The rest of the day was gobbled up by the pills.  At some point I did take my next dose of medicine, but I can't say that I recall doing it. 

That concerned me a little - especially when I saw that I had made a few phone calls, returned some emails to clients, cooked myself a pizza, ate the pizza, and left the oven on.  I also, apparently, had a beer or three with lunch.

That night I was watching a basketball game with my wife.  Florida State was playing somebody.  In the middle of the first half my wife asked me a question.  In the middle of the second half I realized someone was lecturing me on the culture of numerous American Indian tribes.

As I sat there watching the game, listening to this idiot ramble on with no apparent end in sight or real point to be made, I realized I knew some of what he was saying to be true, but most of it sounded as though he was making it up on the spot. 

I checked the TV to make sure I wasn't hearing one program and watching another.  As I turned the channel to something else, the guy kept talking.  I turned off the TV, and all the stereo components and still this guy spoke.

I went to the bathroom and this guy went with me.  He was talking right behind me the whole time.  How was this happening?  The bathroom was a half bath, with no room for two people, yet even with the door shut I could hear him plain as day. 

I didn't see anyone.

It was truly bizarre.

As I returned to the living room he came with me.  I started to argue a point with him and then it hit me.  I asked my wife one question:

"How long have I been talking about Indians?" 

"Since I asked you if you cared who won this game - about 45 minutes ago" she replied.

Even thought the pain was great, I decided to quit taking the Vicodin/muscle relaxer combination.

It was kinda like what John went through.

Can you blame me?

Height and development are not related

As I may have mentioned, at one point or another, our girls are slightly taller than the average less-than-two- year-old child.  By slightly, I mean about half a head taller, give or take.

Brynne with cousin that's five months younger.



Hadley with her cousin that's 10 months younger.



I know they are tall, but since I am around them more than I am around any other children, I forget that you can't always guess a child's age based on their height.  If you do this, it can cause issues.

As an example, let's look at the nursery at church. 

Our girls go to the toddler class, which is, roughly, 18 to 36 months of age.  If that class is a little crowded, and the 36 to 50 month class is not, a child can be moved from the younger class to the older one (after parental consent is obtained).  Our girls, at 23 months, are way less developed than the three to five year old children in the class ahead of them.  By lining them up, and moving the tallest, you would do our girls a huge disservice.

Four year old + cup of water = hydrated child

23 month old + cup of water = wet child, wet clothes, wet table, wet carpet

That's just one example.  Here's another:

The four year olds can, for the most part, communicate with others.  Sure, they have language patterns that can be tough to discern, but you can get the gist of what they're saying, as can other four year olds.  The 23 month olds are limited to what they can express, and so frustration (screaming, tantrums, and tears) can ensue.  Not only between child and adult, but between children.

Not convinced?  Here's my final example.

Four year olds should be stronger than 23 month olds, and can, therefore, take what they want by force.  Even if they're not trying to be mean, they still are dominant.  They might both be going for the same toy.  If the four year old accidentally bumps the younger child, he (or she) is going down.  Now, we're talking real tears and screaming.

This may serve more as a reminder for myself than as education to anyone else, but it may help someone.  If at all possible, ask the parent for the child's age before making that assumption.  This is especially helpful if you're looking for an age appropriate toy to give to a child.

Spine tingling night

Pretty much the only thing that scares me at this point in my life is something bad happening to my family - or so I thought.

I discovered another "thing" last week.

This is It...Stephen King's It to be exact. This It is not the thing I'm scared of. 

Here's the scenario:

It was Mama's turn to go to our community group from church, so I stayed home with the girls and put them down.  That doesn't scare me, anymore, but I still won't do bath time alone.

Normally, the girls pick up all their toys before bed, but since they weren't feeling that well I allowed them to just go to bed without cleaning up.  They went down and I went to work.

The mess wasn't that bad, so I had it all put away in about five minutes.  The last thing I did was toss a small ball into the toy bin. 

Thirty seconds later, a toy sitting a foot away from the ball bin made a noise.  This is a brand new toy.  The batteries are new so you can't put any blame there.  I looked at it for a second, decided something must have jostled it somehow, and turned to go get a drink.

"Bye-bye"

That's what the little dinosaur said to me.

I froze.  I was waiting for Chucky to come slice me up.  Ever so slowly I turned around and stared at the toy.  It wasn't smiling, glowing, or doing some spinning head thing.  I'm pretty sure the toy doesn't have that word in its vocabulary, so I was a little bit freaked. 

Good old Chucky

Justification sets in.  I decided since we haven't had it more than two days, I just wasn't familiar with the sounds it made.  After standing there for a minute I went back to get my drink.

"Bye- Bye"

I nearly crapped my pants. 

Within two seconds there was some metallic clanking sound coming from the other room.  I moved quickly to see if the dogs were messing with something, but they were both sleeping, and the noise stopped as I entered that room.

At this point, the hair on my arms and back of my neck is standing up.  My heart is thumping so loudly I can feel it and hear it.  Adrenaline is racing through my body.  I'm starting to shake as I fight the urge to run screaming from the house.  I want to look in the room with the dogs, but I don't want to take my eyes off that creepy little dinosaur thing. 

My girls are going to sleep in the next room, I need to protect them.  Should I put the toy in the freezer?  Maybe just set it outside?  Will handling it just piss it off?  Will I need an oven mitt to handle it?  Maybe the prongs from the fireplace tools?  Maybe I should just leave it alone unless it does it again.

I decided no action was the best course of action at that point.  I was still concerned my house might be possessed, or at least this new toy was.  There was only one thing I could think to do.

I may have uttered the following words:

In the name of Jesus Christ my personal Lord and Savior I command you evil spirits to leave this house!

I've seen the exorcist, and I know this might not always work, but it made me feel better - as did those drinks I finally got to have.  The dinosaur has not uttered any unprovoked words yet, so maybe I'm onto something.  The voices have stopped.

At least the ones outside my head.

Merry Christmas!  Enjoy your new toys and their demons!!

Walking is like driving

This is a pretty simple concept.  Once I explain it a bit you should get the title, and why some people frustrate me.

When you drive, assuming you're in the US, you're supposed to stay on the right side of the road.  I think this principle should be upheld whenever possible - on the sidewalk, in an office, or anywhere a clear traffic flow can be observed.

It's not that hard!

I don't know Dave, but I know he can appreciate what I'm saying here.

How many times have you walked around a corner, usually holding a beverage or some sort of food, and been nearly run over by someone taking the corner a bit tighter than they need to?  Seriously, buddy!  Would that extra millisecond you saved by cutting the corner really benefit you?

Unless you are on your way to the bathroom with explosive diarrhea, the answer is a resounding "NO". 

It takes you, according to my math, 9,456,593 tight turns to make up for every instance you nearly run into me.  The reason is simple.  Once you have an impromptu introduction like this you have to stop, sometimes pick yourself up off the floor (because let's face it, not too many people - at least in my office - can come around the corner and collide with my 6'5", 240 pound frame and not suffer some sort of redirection), apologize for being an idiot, probably make some stupid comment about how we need mirrors at each of these dangerous corners, then continue on your way.

Save yourself the humiliation, and probably some precious time, and stay in your own lane.

Do I really need to bring in a roll of duct tape to put down lane lines?

Is that really a reason to recall something?

Just for the record, I do believe companies should let the consumers know when there is an issue with a particular product they manufacture.  That being said, most of the issues we've seen have not been real issues in my opinion.  The only recall notice we have received recently which was an actual cause for alarm is the one that said my car may have an issue.  Even that one said you didn't have to so anything unless your car was showing certain symptoms.

Here are the last three we've received.



Sweet ride, but oh so dangerous



New adventures with Papa

Mama had her first sick day on Monday, as you may have read.

The girls and I spent an entire day together while Mama slept and recovered.  Here are a few new things they did.  Some of them are entirely new, while some of them are just new to me. 

We had a blast so I thought I'd share.

Folding the laundry - the girls worked on folding towels.  Mostly, this means I would show them how to do it and they would them destroy my work.  By the end of the allotted laundry time Hadley had folded a washcloth into a semi-square while Brynne kind of balled it up - they both looked roughly accurate so we put them away as they were.

Brynne does her own thing; Hadley at least watches me.

Putting the laundry away - Hadley would bring me a hanger, on which I would hang their clothes, and then she would put it in the closet.  At first, this meant putting it on the floor, but she soon learned how to hang them up and it went well.  Brynne, meanwhile, was in charge of the dresser.  I gave her a stack of folded pants.  She would then open the appropriate drawer, cram in the pants, and close the drawer before repeating the process a dozen times.  Some of the pants needed to be refolded, but for the most part they went in as she put them.  I only did some touch up work when the drawer wouldn't close.

Hadley perfecting her hanging skills

Why yes, that is a roll of tape in my mouth.  Why do you ask?

Not perfect, but not bad for under two.

Meals - The girls had lost some of their appetite recently and we've blamed it on the medicine.  They found it.  Breakfast was two pieces of PB and honey toast, two more pieces of cinnamon toast, half a banana, and two eggs.  That was just the solids!  They also had milk and OJ in large amounts.  Lunch and dinner were different foods, but the quantity was about the same.

Nap time - I have struggled with knowing when to put them down in the past.  Hadley helped me out on this one.  Brynne was trying to climb the stairs up from the basement and had managed to distract me while Hadley read a book.  When I got her under control, I looked over to find Hadley lying on the floor reading her book.  I called her name and she didn't reply.  I went to her and found her "resting her eyes" as my Grandma Jenkins used to say - that's the grandma they share a birthday with, so it works.  Pretty much, she fell asleep and wasn't in her crib or car seat - a first!

Couldn't get the pic before she woke up, but this is close

In case she hadn't made her point clear she made another move.  I came back to the changing room after putting Brynne down to find Hadley trying to put a swim diaper on over her other diaper.  Either she was: sleepy and confused as to what she needed to wear; ready for a dip in the pool on a 50 degree day; or alerting me that she had too much to drink.  As it turns out, the first and the third possibilities above were true.

Playing - Both the girls enjoyed rides in my old office chair around the basement.  Not too exciting for us old people, but for them it was a thrill. 

Not everything was good.  Hadley did manage to take a header off the couch and landed face first on the wood floor.  A few tears later she was fine.  Had it been Brynne, I'm sure we'd be looking at another black eye, but apparently Hadley has a little thicker skin.  Fortunately, landing on her head is probably about as safe as landing on her feet.

I also caught Brynne with one leg over the back of the couch trying to make it to the puppy dogs home.  She didn't get to them, but not for lack of trying.

Time to get back to work so I can catch up on a little R&R.

Professor Papa - Part 3

This is another instance of taking a good thing, and using it in the wrong fashion.

On vacation we had a bit of extra time to kill between bath and bed time.  Mama was tending to Brynne, so Hadley and I were playing in their room.  We were on the bed reading one of their sign language books.  I turned the page to the next sign, which was jump.

She then jumped.  Okay, so she didn't jump like this, but she clearly made the attempt.  With the extra spring in her step provided by the bed she was able to put some air between her feet and the bed. 

It caught me off guard.  I know that she knows the signs for the words in the books, but I didn't realize she knew what the words meant.  Granted, I was helping show her how to jump (as best I could from a kneeling position), but she took right to it.

She was laughing and smiling - obviously as proud of herself as I was. 

Brynne came in (attracted by the squealing of Hadley), climbed on the bed, and proceeded to do exactly the same thing.

The next day we worked on jumping off the ground.  Without the bed springs to supply some much needed lift they were only able to "jump" to their tip toes.  Since then they have been able to get a little lift, so I'm calling that success. 

In my opinion, even if you can barely put a sheet of paper between their feet and the ground it is still a jump.   Once we get a little basketball hoop for them we'll work on layups and dunking, but for now we'll stick with increasing their vertical.

I guess I am partly (or fully) to blame for their jumping on the wrong things.  I am the one who introduced them to jumping on the bed.  They, however, did start jumping on couches, chairs, and in cribs.

It's gotten to the point where if they are on the couch (where they know they are not to stand up) they will stand, jump, and then land/fall on their butts - laughing madly the whole time.

My two concerns are: 

1 - jumping over the back of the couch or off the sides/front

2 - landing on their butts from a jump on a hard surface.

The first one is higher on the danger scale than the second as they don't have as far to go, but it is still a concern.



Obviously it will be a long time before they do something which puts them way up on the danger scale, but even these small falls can do damage.



I'll just have to deal with it, though. Can't keep my girls in a bubble.