Wow its Friday already

This week has just flown by, mostly because we have all been on a chocolate cake buzz the entire week. I am sad to say that I will miss my good buddy chocolate cake, but alas he is now gone forever. Oh such sweet soft kisses I will truly miss him.

Today we are going to the baby doc for the first time with this pregnancy (that would be an obstetrician, not an infant with a PhD). We are changing doctors from the one who “delivered” Ethan. And by delivered I mean she spent 45 second with my wife each visit where we had to sit in her office for an hour and a half, she also popped in five minutes before my son appeared and promptly left five minutes after.

I still say that my wife delivered Ethan all by herself and for the most part the rest of us in the room were just in her way. My role in the birthing process was to run the video equipment and drive quickly, which I did both exceptionally well. However I failed to capture the climatic event on video in the heat of the moment. I forgot to resume recording again after a brief pause to avoid excessive footage of the lovely Mrs. a’la natural. I did get some great video of the view out the window, but as I framed in on a lovely water feature out in the hospital garden my wife can be heard in the back ground agonizing through transitional labor. I will likely have to dub over the sound to mask the outcries which were a pretty obvious wake up call for me to get back to coaching and stop playing with my toys. Actually I am in awe of the entire process and just grateful just to be a witness to this amazing event.

My wife is already very happy about changing doctors as she has discovered that the new doctor likes to have a sonograms (or ultra-sound what ever) performed early and with some frequency where this is sometimes only performed once or twice, and you know how ladies love baby pictures
.

We are eight weeks pregnant now so the baby is only going to be about .63 inches long (crown to rump) so I don’t expect to be able to see much family resemblance yet. But I am looking forward to my first glimpse of the little one. I will try to post pictures this weekend.

Warning this posting may be hazardous

Due to the strong baby photo content and explicit chocolate cake images the following linked website may cause cavities viewer discretion is advised.**



**Baby lovers and Chocoholics are responsible for their own response. The publishers are not liable for any cravings suffered as a result of exposure to these images.

Ethan's first birthday and hair cut.

Our little man needs a hair cut


I have a feeling that I am not going to like this


this is not my idea of a good birthday event


Well I didn' t like the process but I like the result

You got Five minutes to burn?

I found a link to this over at All Things Christie she has found some of the funniest stuff.

If you dig Yoda you will dig this.

Star Wars on the brain

Okay I know that there are tons of people talking about, blogging about, TV interviewing about Revenge of the Sith right now and we will all be sick of hearing about it in a week or so. But the inner dork will not let me leave the subject just yet. I have come to the conclusion that George Lucas is a product tie in whore, I have seen "Dark side M&Ms" and even a marginally funny Pepsi ad with Yoda. But I am sure that I will be sick of the volume of products that will be hawked in about ten days. What is the worst product tie in you have seen so far?

by the way here is a fair if not good review

How am I ever going to pull this off!

If you have pulse and have not taken up residence under a rock for say the last 27 years you most like have heard of a little film franchise call Star Wars, and are also most likely aware that the third (or sixth) installment is opening this week. And if you are also Uber-dork born in the early seventies like myself you have celebrated your dweeb by seeing all of the previously installments, bought the DVDs and several of the action figures over time, and used all of your skill and knowledge of the force to infect your own offspring with the love of all things Star Wars.

I might as well to get this out in the open right away. I never saw Attack of the Clones in the theater. I know this admission will likely bring about my eviction from the Star Wars Dorkus malorkus club. I did purchase the DVD as soon as it was available to make up for this transgression. In addition to the fact that the Phantom Menace was a huge let down I made the conscious decision to forgo the Attack of the Clones theater experience because our oldest son was at an age for where it’s a huge pain to see a move with young children. He was too old to sleep through the entire film (like he did with Fellowship of the Ring) and yet too young to be interested in the film. He would have been more interested in picking things up off the theatre floor and popping them in his mouth, than sitting in one place for ninety minutes. Plus I was never able to convince my wife that she was much more likely to enjoy the movie if I went without her while she stayed home with the boy. I don’t regret skipping it because, even though I liked Clones much more than Menace, it will never be as good as the originals and I spent less on the DVD than it would have cost to go to the theatre.

However this is a very different situation. This is the last of the Star Wars movies. I know there are all sorts of rumors that the last three will be made sometime in the future, and I can only hope that someone will (anyone but George Lucas, face it babe the magic just aint there) but for now this is my only hope for closure.

Unfortunately our family situation for movie going is not any better, worse in fact as we have another boy who happens to be at the squirmy age and based on the trailer this movie could be very dark indeed which raises concerns when thinking of my oldest. Because though he is old enough to be interested in all of the Star Wars movies (over and over again) he is not old enough to stave off the dreams that sometimes come from grim visual images.

My lovely Mrs. has planned a movie date for the two of us as a present for my birthday that just passed. I am just concerned that by the time we arrange a suitable sitter for the boys and process the paperwork for a second mortgage in order to finance this date the Magic will be all gone, and I will have heard one too many people say “it was alright but I was kind of disappointed” (sound familiar?) and my excitement will fade. Then I will cave in from frustration and decide to wait until it comes out on DVD, missing the last Star Wars on the big screen. Help me Obi-wan you’re my only hope!

It’s my birthday, What did you get me?

Today is my birthday, and I am breaking a tradition that I have held with few exception for near twenty years. In honor of my own birth I take the day off and either spend it doing something only I am interested in doing or spend it at home doing nothing at all (which is pretty much the same thing). However this year I am working both jobs all day, and money is tight so I will not be buying some frivolous self-indulgent present for myself. I have been taking stock of my life over this week, as I imagine many people do around milestone birthdays (I’m 35 today).

Isn’t it funny how the when you get older the milestone birthdays get farther apart? I mean when you a kid it’s almost like every year is a big deal. Yeah your one, two, three, etc… well I guess it gets kinda lean until ten, then thirteen is a good one, then your waiting for sixteen, eighteen twenty(only cool cuz your not a “teen” anymore), twenty one Big big deal, then they start spreading out. Twenty five is important because your old to everyone in your age group. Then thirty Oh man, where you have to relinquish any vestiges of cool that you may have kept hidden from your college days. But then it’s all about the ten year marks from then on, fourty fifty etc etc….

While pondering my life I have come to one conclusion above all other. No matter how emotionally immature I tend to act I have inexplicably be come an adult somewhere along the way. And frankly this has happened with out any consent from me!

Yeah I have all the trappings of a grown up; a Lovely Mrs., 2.2 kids(one in the oven), two cars, in a two car garage, in the house that will be ours in just three hundred twenty-four more payments, thinning hair, and bulging waistline. Yep I have arrived!

I know that some may not look at this inventory and find much appeal but that’s fine with me, I love my life and would not trade if for yours for all the tea in China.

If you want to help me celebrate or maybe feel obligated to get me something for a birthday gift just help me get an iPod for free, here is the Link to my previous blog and her is a Link to a buddy’s blog that has his in the mail.

Video killed the radio star…

But a cell phone could save your marriage. My wife and I do not have a land line home phone. We both have cell phones and talking to each other is “free” with our plan. In addition to normal phone calls we frequently send each other text messages, something on the order of four or five hundred short messages per month between the two of us.

We have found that this comes in very handy when you need to ask a quick question or want to send a warm fuzzy to your honey. If I have several phone calls going at work at one time (which happens often) the lovely Mrs. can still pose a question with me and I can respond when I have a moment free without having to put everything on hold for a quick call. We have gotten so proficient with this that we can have complete conversations using short messages.

The only glaring disadvantages are that you can only send messages that are under one hundred and sixty characters long, and it’s a little cumbersome to type on the little phone keypad, even with the (t9) software on our phones.

Both of these become a benefit to the peace if you are having a heated text message discussion. By advantage I mean that it takes you a little longer to formulate a message and therefore you will have more time to consider your response before you fire a heat seeking sarcasm missile across the bow of your loved one. If you are of a mind to civil within the confines of a disagreement it always helps to have some time to consider your response before you roll your M1 Abrams through a field of emotional land mines.

With the combined elements of a standard issue low self-esteem, and rapier like wit I have over the years honed my skill as a verbal pugilist to the point that I don’t even have to think before a stinging response can be launch without hope of retraction into the soft underbelly of almost any would be foe. But alas this not the sort of skill that enables one to become a cherished spouse who deals with loved ones with kindness and mercy. So in an effort to keep my internal Bruce Banner calm and collected I have begun to utilized all conceivable methods to throttle down the emotionally unraveled live conversations when the subject appears likely to lead to hurt feelings. So for providing me a buffer that enables me to overcome my emotional immaturity I say thank you, to who ever invented text messaging through a cell phone.

Boys will be boys

Shortly after my lovely Mrs. and I were first married I discovered that she is a somewhat easy to scare, now I don’t mean this in a real fearful sort of “we are all gonna die!” I mean in it in the “stop jumping from behind doors and scaring me. I almost peed my pants, you jerk”. This discovery has brought me great joy over the years (and a red hand mark on my person from time to time).

I have become quite skilled at the art of laying in wait for my unsuspecting victim then bellowing a loud Raarrr at the instant before they become aware of my presence. It was only a natural progression to subject my children to the same type of high jinks.

I was all to pleased when I began instructing my oldest in the art of “go scare mamma” I love seeing him softly trot off into another room with a look of excitement and the posture of a predator, shoulders drawn up and hands raised into a little claw poses. I wait nearby to hear the sound of his attack ,which I find as enjoyable as acts perpetrated by myself directly. I must say that my son has been a victim of my surprise attacks and those of his mother as well, a number of times and has easily adapted many of my techniques. In addition he has shown natural skill and athleticism that all athletic coach would be looking for and simply can not be taught.

Now that we have a second son I have begun the training program for him as well. This program as always started with teaching him what it is like to be the prey in a surprise attack. This became especially focused once he began to walking freely around the house. Yesterday my heart strings were plucked as I watched my eleven month old son quickly toddled down the hall after his mother saying Raaarrr without any prompting from me. It is so pleasing to see a little predator begin to sharpen his attack skills. It warms my heart to imagine the perpetuation of this sport into the homes of my unsuspecting Daughters-in-law.

Though it may be cliché, all I can say is. That’s my boys.

Parting is such sweet sorrow

In 1995 my little Hyundai Excel hatch back died, something about not changing the oil for a couple of years and just adding oil to compensate for the constant leak not being sufficient. So I was without a car for a couple of years, which was not cool but I managed. My apartment was only a short walk to the bus line which was a short ride to a major bus hub, where you could catch a bus to virtually anyplace in the city.

It is a well established fact that riding the bus is not Hip at all for an American male, this is a lesson learned about the ninth grade when you become both completely enthralled with the opposite sex and simultaneously aware that others attending your school are licensed drivers who are not forced to travel to and from with the “little kids”. Not that you can’t list a dozen reasons why utilizing any mass transit system is a good thing, but it’s just not going to do a lot for your “rep” to be riding the bus in high school or there after.

So imagine my indignation at being forced to ride the bus as a twenty-something. Sure I could (and did) bum rides from friends and co-workers, but this gets old fast (mostly for them, didn’t bug me except the asking). Also picture trying to portray yourself as a suave and virile male to the ladies with hip lines like, “would you like to go to dinner, and drive me” or “Yeah I would love to meet up with you and your friends. But the bus stops running on that line at 9:00”. Oh yeah I was quite the man about town.

Well I ask you what could be the polar opposite of the afore mentioned situation? No I didn’t buy a Ferrari! I bought a motorcycle. It was such an odd transaction too. I worked with a guy who rode a motorcycle to work several days out of the week and I told him on several occasions that I would like to purchase it from him. I would say things like “why don’t you sell me that bike, it would look much better with me riding it ” (real modest huh) none the less he always rebuffed me saying he would never sell it.

After a few months working together he is about to leave the company and in fact was missing in action for a couple of weeks before he was scheduled to make his exit. When he briefly returned he almost immediately comes and offers to sell me the bike, there is just one snag. He doesn’t own it! He is buying the motorcycle from the rightful owner on a payment plan, and offers to let me take over this arrangement. I jumped at the chance. So began a somewhat strained relationship with the owner, who was in fact not the outright owner but had a lien against the bike with their bank.

This all transpired in September of 1997 and by that time I was completely smitten with the future Mrs. to the point that I abandoned all ties to San Antonio, loaded the personal possessions that I could not sell or give away in the back of a pick up (including the motorcycle) and moved to Albuquerque to be within wooing distance.

My little Motosickly was pretty good to me. Even in the cold of mountain spring I rode that bike as my sole source of transportation. Alas when we finally wed the little motorcycle was not sufficient transportation for the two of us on a daily basis and so I purchased a little car from my sister and brother-in-law and the motorcycle began to see less and less road time.

Fast forward a few years and we are moving from Albuquerque to Kansas City and I load the bike into truck again for another thousand plus mile relocation, this time following a job and in a large box truck rental. Over the years preceding the motorcycle had fallen into some disrepair; little cracks in the saddle, a ding here and there, a broken turn signal. But put on the battery charger for a while and she would willingly launch me on another adventure, wind in my face and bugs in my teeth. But once we get to Kansas City the poor motorcycle is almost completely ignored. We had a baby son to play with and the weather in Kansas is not well suited to two wheeled adventures most of the year, and so for the first year she sat in the apartment carport in front of the primary family transportation collecting dust.

A year after our move to Kansas City we purchased a home and load up to move again, when it comes time to load my faithful bike on the truck I realize that she has fallen into further disrepair; the control cables have frozen presumably from moisture and rust, the water reserve tank has cracked, and the little crack in the saddle has become a big rip. She is in such a sad state that I could not even roll her into the truck because the clutch could not be disengaged allowing the rear wheel to roll free. So it became a two man job just to move the bike from one spot to another. And once she was parked in the garage of the new home I never moved her. The only use made of the motorcycle for the last two years has been an oversized rack for my string trimmer and an occasional climbing toy for my oldest son.

Well last night the seven and a half year relationship was ended, I sold her to a young man who has both the desire and mechanical ability to bring her back into road worthy condition. I am a little sad and a little relieved to see her go but at some point all things come to a close. Now the huge obstruction in my garage is gone and all that remains are the happy memories of wind in my face.