Tag Archives: I provide fodder for future embarrassment

The Real Good Luck Charlie, Chapter 3: What are we going to do with all this stuff?

24 Sep

So Charlie, we’ve got a few weeks until you’re supposed to show up and we’re drowning in stuff.  Your stuff.  Would you mind cleaning your room?  Please.  We’ve got strollers and swings and clothes and diapers and bedding everywhere.  Two pack-and-play’s, a crib, AND a bassinet.  Why does someone who is estimated to be about 7lbs at birth need all this stuff?  Oh…  Right.  You’re a baby.  That’s how you roll.

So you’ve got a lot of stuff.  Huge thanks to everyone who gave, bought, borrowed, and/or possibly stole all the stuff that we have received for you.  We’ve been given a great start, seeing as we had given away all your siblings stuff when they were no longer babies.  It’s such an odd thing to go from having absolutely nothing to having almost no room to move, and stubbing my toes on all your stuff.  It’s a great feeling, but an odd feeling.

Some Tips:

– Your aunt and uncle bought your all your crib stuff.  Make sure you thank them by being so cute that they get a jump start on this whole baby thing.

– Your grandmother bought you one of your cool strollers (dad basically stole the other one, more on that later).  Make sure you thank her by making her take you on walks with Mr. Parker.

– Your other grandmother bought you tons of clothes.  Make sure you always look cute and don’t throw up, poo, or pee in/on any of them.

– Many of our friends and family bought you all the cool stuff you’ve got.  Make sure you thank them by actually USING it, not just playing with the box.

So now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, HURRY UP!  But not until after this weekend.  Mom’s in a wedding.  It would be very rude of you to attempt show up while she is on the middle of the dance floor.  However, seeing as you’re my kid, well….

Good Luck Charlie, you’re going to need it…

The Real Good Luck Charlie, Chapter 2: Parenting 101

18 Sep

So Charlie, here we are, 1 month from when you have been scheduled to make an appearance.  If you are anything like your sister and brother, you will be a bit early.  This is also the LAST time you will ever be a bit early (again, if you are anything like you sister and brother).  We’ve been real busy getting to this point.  We’ve been organizing, cleaning, washing, installing, and putting things together all in preparation for your arrival.  We also took a birthing class at the hospital.  We did this with your sister 14 years ago, don’t think you’re special.  We do it for all the girls.  We skipped it for the boy.  He was, is, and always will be easier than you two.  About 20 minutes into the class, I had a thought:  What are they actually teaching us?  To tell you the truth, not much.  Rather, they did teach us quite a bit about what to expect during the birthing process.  What they didn’t teach us was ANYTHING about parenting.  Not that the boss or I need any help.  We’ve successfully kept 2 kids alive for 14 and 11 years.  Believe me, that’s no mean feat.  What about the new parents, who don’t have other kids that they figured things out with?  What will they do?  Wing it?  Read stupid books that doesn’t really tell you anything useful?  Probably.  Which led to a second thought:  Could I teach a Parenting 101 class?  Would it be successful?  Would people pay me for the privilege of having the boss and I tell them all the little secrets?

This led me to think about what I would want covered in a Parenting 101 class if there were such a thing.  Here are the basics of what I came up with:

The class would start off with the moms and dads to be in the same room.  We would go over the basics: feeding, diaper changing, clothes changes, what to pack, how to not ever get a mini-van (provided you stay with less than or equal to 3 kids), etc.

Then the men and women would split up.  The men would go with me, the women with your mother.  There the real learning would take place.  The men would learn things like speed diapering, how to hold a beer and feed a baby (and how not to mix them up), clothes wrangling, avoiding getting peed or pooped on, etc.  I guess the women would learn things like how to swaddle, baby powder 101, breast or bottle, couponing while dealing with a fussy baby, etc.

At some point, I suppose the women and men should trade places and go over the same things.

Then we would all come together for a conclusion of some sort, followed by a celebration of some sort.

What do you think?  Do you think people would participate?

As always, Good Luck Charlie, your dad is obviously insane.

I will always love you. I just don’t like you right now.

19 May

Let’s face it:  Kids can be annoying.  Kids can drive you right up the wall, and right down the other side.  I think they look at torturing parents as a game.  The madder mom gets, the redder her face gets, the funnier it is.  The madder dad gets, the louder he yells.  Let’s see if he can shake stuff on the walls!  I must be just a big kid because I tend the laugh when the kids are getting into trouble.  My dad was the same way.  I can’t tell you how many times he would have to turn a laugh into a cough, or leave the room because my mom was yelling at us over some stupid thing my brother and I just did.  I’d like to think it’s an inherited trait; however, maybe it’s all males who do this.  Do other dads laugh at the expense of their children?  I have sat in the kitchen waiting for the timer to go off choking with laughter at The Boy as he sits in time-out sticking his tongue out at me so many times I’ve lost count.  It’s funny!  He is our constant source of entertainment.  He comes up with the best facial expressions, the best come backs, the best creative pronunciations of words.  He’s a sarcastic little bugger too.  Most kids don’t understand sarcasm.  With my family that is completely untrue.  My kids get sarcasm.  My kids are almost as sarcastic as I am.  I find this hysterical.  I also find that they’ll probably get themselves into some sort of trouble because of their sarcastic nature.  The Boy most definitely will, and probably already has.  I know we’ve had notes home about him rolling his eyes at some comment the teacher made.  (On side note:  How appropriate is it that while writing this post, Vampire Weekend’s The Kids Don’t Stand a Chance comes on?)  Isn’t rolling one’s eyes a sign of appropriateness while being yelled at?  I know I did that with my parents when I was younger.  I also remember my butt breaking many wooden spoons…  I wonder if there is any correlation between the two.

In order to curb the kid’s crappy behavior, I’ve started a new trend.  I simply tell them the following, “You know, I will always love you.  I just really don’t like you right now.”  This seems to have the desired effect.  The kids know I’m going to punish them if they don’t knock it off.  They knock it off, and I don’t have to stop what I’m doing.  Win-win.  I have a feeling that I will be using this statement more and more as my kids get older.  Next year The Girl goes to middle school.  I don’t know how I feel about this.  With middle school comes hormones, crying, boyfriends, acne, crying, break-ups, crying, attitudes, a new school, crying, etc (did I mention crying?).  I don’t know if I’ll be able to stand it.  The Girl knows that I don’t deal with emotional stuff well.  I’ve always been the bottle up your feelings and let them burst out in a rush at the person you’re not really mad at kind of guy.  Lord, give me strength.  She might make it to 13 if she straightens up, flies right, and doesn’t annoy the crap out of me.

Have you ever laughed at your child?  Are your kids successfully sarcastic?  Leave a comment below.

The funny things we say and do

17 May

The following are just some of the funny short stories and sayings from my family:

“Do… Do I poop on the law?”  – The Boy when told that it was the law that he be completely potty trained by age 4 (yes, he’s a late bloomer).

“Damn it!  Damn it!  Damn it!”  – The Girl when she was 2 or 3 and told to put 6 or so stuffed animals onto her bed.  She instead tossed them from her room adding a “Damn it!” to each throw.

“I didn’t want an Ian.  I wanted a Court-a-knee!”  – Me, age 3, when we brought my brother home from the hospital.

“You bought WHAT!”  – Usually Mom.  Occasionally The Wife.  Never from me, or my dad, unless directed at a purchase my dad had foolishly made.

“I’ll just light one more match.  Then I’ll stop.”  – My brother, to be featured in an upcoming blog post entitled, “Playing with Fire.  Part 2”.

“Mom will never find out.”  – Either me or my brother.  She always does….

“BOYS!!!”  – Mom.  See, I told you she always finds out.

“No dad!  Not the knife!  Not the Knife!”  – See yesterdays post

“Mom, we’re play fighting.  We really do love each other!”  – Usually me, as I was beating the crap out of my brother.

“Yeah, you can make it.  No problem.”  – Usually me encouraging my brother to do something stupid.

When my brother was little, he had a terrible temper.  I swear I saw his eyes go blood red on many occasions.  On one of our ski trips, he wasn’t having a great day.  He had fallen and his boot had come off, he had been kicked off the bunny hill for being awesome, etc.  My dad was filming most of these things.  So my dad, being his oh so supportive self, decides to poke the bear.  He taunts my brother about his day, about his falls, etc all while filming my bro.  Funny thing about bears, they poke back.  I think we all almost wet ourselves when my brother grabbed his ski pole and jabbed my dad in the gut.  Watching my dad double over, then fall in the snow was hilarious.  We should have sent it into “America’s Funniest Home Videos”.  We would have won for sure.

Let’s here some of your family’s crazy stories, quotes, and/or sayings.  Leave a comment below:

My dad attempts to knife me

16 May

When I was 6 or 7 we were building our new house in an up and coming subdivision.  When I say we, I of course mean my dad and friends of ours.  I was busy being a kid, trying to learn something useful at school I guess.  My dad was the general contractor for the house and had friends do the framing, etc.  We used to visit the house to see all the stages of the build.  We saw the basement as it was formed up, poured, then the frames removed giving us our first glance at our new home’s shape.  Then the rough framing began.  When the first floor was rough framed and the second well on its way we made a very important visit.  We went to check out where our rooms would be, what of our furniture would go where, etc.

Right around the corner from our new house was a Fisher’s Big Wheel.  I can still remember we bought little blue plastic bowls, plastic spoons, and Cinnamon Toast Crunch!  Coming from a family where eating an exciting cereal consisted of either Honey Nut Cherios or Life, CTC was a dream come true.  Finally!  I was going to eat the same sugar laden cereals my classmates enjoyed on a daily basis!  Building a house is awesome!  Maybe we’d have CTC all the time now!

Disaster hits (big surprise, huh?)

Somehow over the course of me and my little brother running around the rough framed house barefoot, I got a sliver.  Imagine that, a sliver from rough plywood and Douglas Pine joists.  As I recall it, this sliver was huge.  I had an entire tree stuck in my toe.  It hurt like hell, being 6 I of course knew everything there was to know about hellish pain.  I’d fallen off my bike and skinned my knees before.  I knew pain.  This. Was.  It.  My mom, in all her nurse-y wisdom tried her best to remove the giant hellish invader from my tiny little toe.  She tried to no avail.  That thing was staying put.  I had no choice.  The guys at school were going to call me Tree-foot from here on out.  I’d have to learn to see around the branches as it sprouted and grew a trunk right from my toe.  I’d have to learn to kick a soccer ball with my new trunk.

What?  Dad knows how to get splinters out?  Awesome!  Bring it on dad!  Why are you getting your knife out?  Why are you opening it?  Don’t come near me!  What’s wrong with you?  You’re going to kill me just because I’m going to have a tree growing from my toe?  Or worse!  You’re going to cut off my toe, aren’t you?  You’re sick you know that?

I remember (and am reminded of by my mom every chance she gets to embarrass me) screaming, “No dad!  Not the knife!  Not the knife!”  Here we are the new people in a prominent subdivision, and I’m screaming my head off as my dad advances on me with a knife.  It’s a miracle that there weren’t cops swarming the neighborhood cuffing and stuffing my dad for attempted murder or toe-icide.

Is it just my family that has these kinds of stories?  Do you have a story of a similar experience?  Share it in the comments below.