Sous chef.

On some nights, after a very long day with screaming, crying, whiny little humans daddy just needs a little help. This night was no exception. Our littlest is teething. Teething equals all the above mentioned at a constant rate of 4 g's. Our other little human woke up from a nap, bawling his poor eye ducts out. He was extra clingy and I had to hold him for a while before he shut up.

Introducing my Sous Chef......

Thank you, Bartles & Jaymes for taking the edge off!

Indoor camping.

The other day, my wife put up this tent we have had in several other rooms. It is the kind that comes along with a tunnel. After you place a Mickey Mouse sofa that converts into a bed, a pillow or two, and a blanket you get a very relaxing oasis for the little humans. Well, one morning we found one of our little guys inside this tent sleeping soundly.

Apparently, he wanted to go camping.

 

Epic fail.

I could tell this morning was going to be different from others.

I had a restless nights sleep and was awake at 430. Intense pounding from my head is what made me get out of bed that early. As I stumbled into the darkness, I managed to find my way to the mega jar of Ibuprofen. The light from the fridge was nearly unbearable, as I searched for something to chase these glorious pills with. Managing to find some apple juice, I quickly chugged some so I could be on my way to bed. I thought I heard some noises coming from the little humans sanctuary, so I peaked inside being ever so cautious of the surprise I might find behind the door. I could see the silhouette of one laying on his bed moving around as if having a nightmare. I quickly turned and crept back to my humble bed. With the intense jack hammer above my head it was hard to get back to sleep. As I lay there in a coma induced state, I could still hear some commotion from the next room over. I thought nothing of it and finally fell back to sleep.

Derek did not want to awake this morning and was eventually forced to, when the time began to count down against his favor. It was picture day at school, so he was dressed in something a little more appropriate than what daddy typically dresses him in. Derek was being very difficult on this morning and was whiny. We managed to get the kids in the car and headed to school.

Arriving at school, I thought of something. I had not packed any diapers.......AGAIN! This would be the second time I had managed to elude the fact that he needed diapers. These teachers are going to be pissed at me, I thought to myself. I am sure they can steal some from an emergency supply or another little humans back pack, but the fact still lingered in my head..... I had forgotten diapers once again. I pulled up to the drop off line, mortified that he did not have diapers. As one of the adults pulled him out of the car, his back pack fell to the ground. I thought nothing of this innocent accident, but as I pulled away I heard a crunch from the back passenger side tire. It sounded like a sippy cup! I continued on my way forward, looking over at another adult as she passed my window. I could tell she had a slight cringe on her face, as she looked down toward the pavement. I peered through the rear-view mirror and could see a jumbled mess of bright colors laying in the path I had just taken. It was Derek's sippy cup. It must have fallen out of his backpack when it crashed from the car. So now, he has no diapers and nothing to drink!!! Shit, mother fucker.

I feel so bad for the poor little human and expect a call on my cell phone at any minute asking why he has neither of these items in his possession today. I do not look forward to picking him up this afternoon. I suspect, I will be sent to the principals office or something like that. I just hate confrontations. I am sure a note will be left in his backpack.

Such is life, when you are a stay at home dad. Welcome to my world.    

Meat locker.

7am.

The sun rose, casting shadows across my sleepy face as I lay in bed. It was a warming sun, unlike the howling from the chilly wind that could be heard rattling the window panes. A cold front had ripped across the Spring-like landscape bringing all new growth to a halt. A little human could be heard in the baby monitor. He was most likely awakened from that sun and gale forced wind banging branches, as if at an outdoor concert. There it goes...... the alarm on my wife's phone perched against that noisy window pane. Luckily, the power had not gone off yet. Only a few short gusts later, it would. The power grid was no match for the persistent wind. The heat in our home is kept at a modest 70 when it is cold outside and 79 when it is warm.  

730am. 

The little humans are now up and running around. You would think they hid coffee in their bedroom, as they jumped straight out of their beds and into a hyper state of mind. As my wife lights candles to help her see in the dark bathroom, I begin the daily routine of morning milk. I normally warm the milk, so I had to go old school and place the drinks in a bath of warm water. The morning cartoons turned into a morning of playing with toys. The temperature at this point was 69. 

830am.

The wife has left for work and the little humans are now being fed after drinking their milk. You can begin to feel the chill in the house as the cold wind penetrates the not so weather friendly windows in this renovated apartment. Toy play is beginning to dwindle and blank, angry stares are being directed toward the flat screen TV placed above the fireplace. The temperature is now a balmy 67. 

9am. 

I place a call to the power company and place the iPad against the sofa with a welcomed cartoon. The temperature is now 66. I told you these windows are terrible! The power company says, 1115 is when they expect the power to be restored. A tree has hit the line. 

1030am.

I begin bundling the little humans into warmer clothes. Still holding at 66 as the wind continues its relentless destruction on the newly formed foliage in the canopies of these large trees. 

1130.

Bastards! Still no power. The temp is now at 65. We could hang whole animal carcasses in our living room because it is so cold. I have an idea. We are going to get ready to eat lunch with mama. 

1220.

As, I strap the last Velcro piece around this little humans foot and proceed to walk out of the door into these blustery conditions the power returns.  It is too late. I have already gotten things ready to leave and we are heading out the door. The heat can run while we are out and warm this meat locker. 

This is how we deal with a power outage.....

About a quarter mile from our community entrance, I witnessed the culprit to this cold morning inside. A very very large pine tree had completely laid itself across the road. This tree was now in large chunks alongside the roadway. I would estimate it was about 150' tall with a trunk diameter of 20'. It was massive!

 

Therapy

Little humans. They project a kinda therapeutic feeling in some ways. There is a reason people are drawn to the nursery in a hospital. Little humans warm our hearts. When depression gets me down, I can just look over at this cute innocent face. Instantly, the feelings subside as I stare into those deep blues and that adorable smile.

Speak boy, speak.

We don't have a dog, but if we did his name would be Parker. Let me tell you, this little human has been anything, but human. He has gnawed on everything......toys, clothes, people....yes, I said people. He is a piranha. A ravenous dog. Acting as if he has not been fed in weeks. Our other little human never went through this phase, so we are out of our element on this one.

The past several weeks our little human has been trying to say things. What? I don't know. Just this morning, as we hiked out of our grotto and into the family wagon the wife and I swear we heard a distinct word come through his full lips. Damn short term memory prevents me from remembering exactly what we thought it was coming out of his mouth. Maybe the other parental unit will gladly chime in. Hint hint. Today, whilst  I lay on the couch I caught him speaking. Again, I don't speak little human, but tried my hardest to come to a conclusion.

I hear, "a door" and "byebye".

Orlando

Mini vacay. As many often say, it was way too short. We visited my mom down in Orlando this past weekend. We had no intentions of feeling like cattle and being herded around the great land of Disney. No. Instead we just wanted to chill out and relax. Laziness was running through are veins. We did summon the courage necessary to enter Downtown Disney, a free and not so crowded area or so we thought! It was crowded. Not the Black Friday kinda mass chaos, but nonetheless pretty damn close. 

Downtown Disney is comprised of shops, restaurants, shops, restaurants, and more shops. In between, there are a few other things to do that will not break the bank. A train ride of about 5 minutes for $2 and a water fountain. We did both! The water was the hit of the town though. Our kids are fish. They breathe out of gills and eat flakes of food. 

After the park, we had more swim time in the kiddie pool at grandma's complex. The pool is very large with a depth of only a foot and a half at most. There are canons that shoot water, a hefty shower of cascading water, and little spouts aiming water toward the middle. 

The pictures were all taken with a cell phone, so don't hate. 

What the HELL!

I kill you. 

The kiddie pool at grandma's complex. 

Stopping to enjoy the flowers.

Did I drink that much?

Where is the little human?

My first Popsicle eaten all by myself!!! 

H2O to face.

If all pools had a kiddie section. 

Slackers.

Now is the time slackers.

Time to mail that IRS form and get your ass handed to you by a white guy wearing a silly hat and over-sized beard. You know who i am talking about right? Uncle Sam. You have seen the Statue of Liberty standing tall and proud, walking the streets like some hooker looking for a John. Well, she has gotten you and given you what you wanted......an STD. So, pucker up and honk as you drive by, knowing you were had by the lady in green. I don't particularly understand what the Statue of Liberty has to do with tax season? I mean, doesn't she represent freedom? I am not really free am I? Free to pay the government my hard earned money while they spend it all on lavish trips and gifts.

There you have it. My soap box rant of the day. If you are lucky, you received money back. If not, there is always next year. If you waited this long anyway, you are and always have been a procrastinator. The other reason....you owe some money.

Happy tax day. Merry Christmas.  

Flair for flowers.

Gardening is a strong passion of mine and although I don't have a yard at the moment to call my own, it is something that still runs deep in my veins. So, when I see beautiful plant life I can't help, but stop and smell the roses. If you don't know,  I have a degree in Horticulture and one in design.  I owned my own lawn care biz for many years and have worked for several colleges. Burnout is what happened.  I would rather design and see the after, rather than doing the hard work leading up to it.

We are visiting my mom in central Florida this weekend on a simple mini vacay.  These are just some of the plants worth taking a picture of. What is even nicer than that, is the fact that the pool is near the same vicinity.  A quick dip is what the doctor ordered. 

Attire of a SAHD.

It has been brought to my attention, that I wear clothes compatible to that of a SAHM. I will say, I tend to not care about what I look like most days. If I am inside and not planning to go out, I don't even bother to shower. So, I ask you, what am I supposed to wear? A tuxedo perhaps. A collared shirt and tie. I think I will stick to my attire.

My pajama pants can be compared to that of someone wearing yoga pants. The only exception to this comparison, is that it does not flatter my physique at all like tight yoga pants would. Why would I kid myself though.....I want something loose and comfy, not tight and constricting. Sweatpants come in at a close second runner up, while we are on the subject of pants. I have worn them to the point, that there is a hole in a not so inconspicuous place. Lets just say, I can't sit with my legs apart like any Sunday football dad. Since my pajama pants have been called out, lets get on with my shirts.

I do not wear the over-sized sweatshirts that a SAHM would be assumed to be wearing. My compatible item of choice is the plain old "T". Yes, I admit it, I like my t-shirts. Actually, I love my t-shirts. They are comfy. At least they aren't wife beaters. You will not catch me dead in a tank top. Most days they are not ironed either. I grab them from the pile of clothes sitting in the chair of our bedroom and place it right over my head. Each wrinkle I count adds a little character and depth, right? Haha. Who am I kidding. I just don't give a flip.

Occasionally, when the weather is crisp and cool I will pull on the old slippers too. You have a problem with that you tuxedo wearing Nazi?

So, yes. I may be comparable to a housewife, but I don't care.

You want a pic? You got it!

Tears

Our littlest human as gone to the Doctor this afternoon. We have an ear infection. In fact, the second in a few months.

This ear infection is pretty advanced though, so we are treating with antibiotics and lots of sympathy. This morning was deafening with the screams and cries of this little person.

Daddy needed a drink by 10am. It is hard to hear this cry and see the waterworks. I know they say, mommies can't stand the crying of their child, but this daddy can't either.

On the plus side, we should be able to still go on our mini vacay.

The Bug. The sequel.

We believe we have gained the trust of this little varmint again. It will be the second time in a month and third in the past few months. Our little, little human started this trend. High fevers seem to be the norm for him. Our other little human seems to prefer the pukage. Today, whilst eating lunch in the back of our rental van he proceeded to hurl chicken nuggets, fries, some hamburger, and sweet tea. While this may sound gross to you, it was equally disturbing to me as I named off everything coming out of his mouth in sequence. As usual, his hands went straight to his mouth and straight into the aim of this wonderous mess.

You get the picture right? Cause I could show you the actual picture, but would not want you to vomit on your screen. So, just take it the way it has been presented....trust me.

Here is a picture just moments before hell was spawned from his mouth.

Here is to hoping is doesn't repeat the sequence of past events. I really don't want it!

Easter and Bourbon.

Synonyms? Perhaps, if you are the parents of this little human.

Today was a beauty of a day. Sun glistening on the foreheads, beaming light from the shimmer of sweat. Warmth, but not the unusual hot mess we have been dealing with. Seasonable as some weather personnel have eluded to. The correct ratio of clouds to ever blue sky. Just perfect.

It is Easter weekend. The Christmas of Spring. Bunnies are bountiful. Fur pelts are plenty! Kidding.

Our complex treated these little people to an Easter egg hunt. Hundreds of eggs thrown about on the freshly manicured lawn. One problem. The eggs were empty. What kinda person does that to a little human. HAHAHA, I hate you little devils......I will place hundreds of eggs at your disposal and watch you cry sweet tears as you open them and realize you get nothing.  Yeah, that sums it up. As children began to melt down before our eyes we could see this was not going to end well. Our biggest one had a chance to partake in this torture and loved being outside. He hunted eggs feverishly (I assume, expecting there would be a prize awaiting him). With each passing egg, you could see the emotions setting in. Why am I doing this if I am not getting rewarded? Hunt over, we decided to play a little on the pathetic playground our community owns.

Big mistake!

The poor little guy didn't want to go back home. He gained nothing from the eggs. He wanted to take the slide home. He was beginning a meltdown of epic proportions.

Bourbon would be the only cure for this parents insanity called, parenthood.

The Very Hungry Caterpillar - Photo Booth

.....continued

How do you take pictures of guests at parties? Just catch them while in the act of shoveling food in their mouth. I think not! This is not a pasture. There are no cows here.

My wife and I thought of a better idea. A backdrop. Photo booth style. This way, we prevented the awkward glances, eating habits, and plain old hiding from the glass piercing into the soul.

Our first run at this concept was enlightening. Better opportunities in the future will be ours.

One thing I learned! Food colored icing and white teeth make you look like you devoured a Smurf. Just ask the young lady in the picture below. HAHA.

more to follow......

The Very Hungry Caterpillar - Cuppy Cakes

....Continued

We made roughly a gazillion cupcakes for our little humans numero uno birthday party. Seriously. There were cupcakes all over the place.

My wife made the cupcakes and cooked them. We had yellow and chocolate.  My mother was gracious enough to ice them. I was whipped into submission and made the icing (my dad's recipe) and placed them out into the shape since I am artsy.

Results.

My father made this icing by hand every year around Christmas time. I am just lazy, plus I have a super duper fancy gadget that does all the work for me, so I use it. My father would be proud that I am able to carry on his icing recipe for another generation.

My mother ices the cake. She specifically asked me when the shade of color was just right. Again. Artsy.

A smattering of cup cakes freshly iced.

The end result.

Next subject. The birthday boy!

to be continued......