Thank you mommy

My girls (age 5 and 6) have reached the age where flatulence is no longer just a bodily function. It is now funny. The girls were finishing dinner while my wife and I were in the kitchen. Every couple of seconds one of them would make a raspberry sound, say something and then both would start laughing. My wife and I were busy and they weren’t screaming so we didn’t pay much attention at first. After several minutes, we listened to what they were saying. “(Raspberry sound). Thank you mommy for adding a nice smell to dinner. (laughter). (Raspberry sound). Thank you dad for adding a nice smell to dinner. (laughter).

Grandma's packing

I was holding my baby boy at a family event. Suddenly I smelled something quite terrible coming from his diaper. I don’t mean to brag but Helmet Head has a high reek to size ratio and reek he did. Being a loving and caring father, I tickled his chin until he was laughing very adorably and handed him to his mother. I quickly walked away because my wife and I haven’t agreed on no-give-baby-backsies rules. After a moment’s pleasure in Helmet Head’s laughs, my wife passed our laughing and reeking son to a cousin before quickly walking away. From relative to relative our son passed until an aunt passed him to grandma. Grandma took him away to change him in a well ventilated room.

Being a patriot, I asked myself, “How can my country benefit from what I just saw?” The answer is fairly obvious. Since people automatically walk away from the smell of dirty diapers, if we make all national secrets smell like dirty diapers so spy will still our information. They may pick it up but they won’t leave the building before handing it off to some security guard.

Whenever proposing a major change in tactics, one must ask how would the competition respond. Clearly international spy services would start recruiting grandmas, who seem immune to dirty diapers. 007 would be obsolete but the Golden Girls would start packing heat.

Grandma Mimi

We buried Grandma Mimi today. When I first started dated my wife, we visited Grandfather and Mimi at their home. Grandfather gave us some practical directions for the trip home for practical was Grandfather's way. Grandfather's directions were for a shortcut using back roads in the Northeast. Grandma Mimi didn't think one of the steps was clear and so interjected with a landmark. "Turn right at the flowers," she added. Off the back roads in the Northeast there are a lot of flowers. The floral landmark didn't help us find our way home but I will always find that landmark in my heart. With Grandma Mimi, there are always flowers.

Nancy Boy

I have had a long standing rule that each child only has one insulting name at a time. My son, who's eight months, started as Nancy Boy but later had to wear a helmet causing his official name to change to Helmet Head. Nancy Boy was put on the bench. Last night, I attempted to feed Helmet Head Chicken and Stars soup made for babies. It was a paste with just a little bit of texture. The moment the paste passed Helmet Head's lips he gagged and threwup all of the Chicken and Stars as well as the jar of peas and brown rice I fed him earlier. Helmet Head is not able to handle Chicken and Stars paste therefore I will break my own rule and alternatively refer to him as Helmet Head and Nancy Boy.

Gym Time

For the entire lives of my 5 year old and 6 year old my wife and I made a big deal about how strong they were. When they flexed their muscles we oohed. When they lifted pillows over their heads we awed. We pinched their flexed arms and exclaim, "How strong!" For awhile, we even pretended that their muscles were so strong that it hurt our fingers to pinch them. Between the two kids, that's 11 years of muscular encouragement.

My 5 year old asked us what we did while they were at school. We told them that we were going to the gym. My 5 year old pinched my arm and said, "It's not so strong, Dad. Work harder." While I bit my tongue, holding in the nasty remark I would have made had anyone else said that, my 6 year old pinched my wife's flexed arms. "It's kind of soft, Mom," she said. Then she called to my 5 year old and said, "Pinch Mom. She's like a marshmallow." Now I had a whole new set of comments I knew better than to say.

General invite

I would like to extend an invitation to all of the naked old men in the gym's locker room to continue conversation on the treadmills. Generally speaking, the less likely I am to actually see your prostate, the more I will be engaged in your story about said prostate. So, come on. Put on your tighty whitey's and let's never talk in the locker room again.

Workless paradise

Ok. I haven't been as productive this week as I had planned. Last Friday was my last day on the job. I spent much of the end of the week preparing to leave, so I didn't do my daily job hunting. I had to catch up with that. I had to file unemployment. My wife's grandmother had a stroke, so Tuesday we spent visiting her (after voting of course). All of this adds up to, I haven't been living my schedule.

My wife has dragged my overweight self to the gym twice this week and will probably try to do it again tomorrow. The job hopes I had lined up seemed to be running thin. I think being home is throwing the kids off too. They like having me home, at least they better like having me home, but it is different.

I'm hoping next week becomes a little smoother as all adjust a little better.

Daddy's home

Today is my first work day where I am unemployed. I used to come home from work and my daughters would sing, "Daddy's home from where he roam." Today as I came down the stairs they called, "Daddy's home from where he didn't roam." They are getting clever.

Even though I wasn't rushing off to work, we were running late. I banned talking from breakfast to catch us back up. Once finished, dressed and ready to go out the door, the girls decided that they needed to make up for lost talking time by repeating everything. Once finished, dressed and ready to go out the door, the girls decided that they needed to make up for lost talking time by repeating everything.

My wife managed to get me to the Y for a workout. I don't remember signing up for that when I was laid off. Working out is just cruel to someone in my condition. Besides, they don't let you take chocolate onto the treadmills. Barbarians.