Category Archives: boys

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PISS – POOR – PARENTING

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Funny Conversation…

TheBoy – Dad!!  TheGirl is on the coffee table!

Me – Tell her to get down.

TheBoy – She said she’s going to jump

Me – Talk her down!!

TheBoy – Too late…

Let the good times roll…

“Señor Brandon, that was a PISS, POOR, PERFORMANCE!”  I can still hear my high school Spanish teacher’s voice in my head telling me I was a TRIPLE-P for not properly using ustedes or nosotros in the proper form.  Yes, it was a shot at my oversized ego, but for some reason I knew later in life I would be able to use her saying and expand on the term.

I have come to the conclusion as a parent and observing other parents, we are all TRIPLE-P’s or PISS, POOR, PARENTS.  Allow me to explain (before I get a lot of SHIT for this) and give you my definition of PISS-POOR-PARENTING.  Like most parents, I don’t have eyes on the back of my head.  I allow my children to roam the pastures to explore – I let them be kids.  Sometimes, if I get distracted with Facebook, Twitter, lunch making, cleaning, or anything where I don’t have a constant eye on TheKids, a loud boom or cry can be heard across the Great Plains of our house on a regular basis.  After galloping up or down the stairs jumping over Legos, cars, and dolls to survey the lay of the land and question, “What the hell happened?”  I realize I failed as a parent by not being there in the moment of the crisis.  Therefore, I was a PISS-POOR-PARENT (PPP).

My wife and I have come accustomed to razzing, poking, and making fun of each other when it comes to the follies of our parenting.  We are team and when either one of us screws up, we both screw up.  We are not perfect; we screw up – WE ARE HUMAN.  But, we learn from our mistakes (sometimes) and move on to the next chapter of parenting.

When TheWife would take the kids to the park, store, or anywhere for the matter, she would return home with a story.  99.99% of the time she would start out with, “So, (insert story of how TheGirl busted her lip, or how TheBoy fell from a 10-story building (exaggeration)).  I would calmly listen to the story, chuckle, shake my head in disappointment, and tell her the events were PPP at it’s finest.

Until recently, I have had a clean track with zero PPP deductions and I was proud of my record.  The other day I was cleaning the kitchen when TheBoy came running upstairs from the basement to tell me he was going to his room to play with his Legos (not that there aren’t enough on the other 3 floors of our home to play with).  He ran to his room with a purpose and I continued to clean.  As I was cleaning, I could hear TheBoy playing with his Legos and failed to remember TheGirl was downstairs in the basement still playing.  It was eerily too quiet.  TheGirl is a rambunctious 2-year old who is rarely silent.  I made my way down the stairs and saw her playing with scissors.  Needless to say, my walk turned into jumping every other step.  With scissors in hand she tells me she’s pretty.  I agreed she was pretty and took the scissors from her hands and noticed a pile of hair on the ground.  As I’m looking at clumps of hair on the ground – I lost it.  I didn’t lose my cool with my daughter, but I realized I was a PPP at it’s finest.  My daughter was playing with scissors, she cut her hair, and I was too “busy” cleaning.

I immediately sent a e-mail to TheWife to let her know I was going to take TheGirl to get a haircut (it was that bad).  When it comes to our daughters hair, TheWife has absolute power.  Here is the e-mail:

TheWIfe,

SO…Today has been PPP day.  We are off to get TheGirl a hair cut since she felt it necessary to cut hers (it’s bad).  The sofa cushions are in the laundry with permanent marker marks on them.  I need beer, lots of beer…

Love,

TheHusband

Am I a PISS, POOR, PARENT?  Yes, but I’m also a great parent.  We all live and learn.  There is no trying to be a parents – Do or Do Not, There is No Try (Yoda).  We all fail, but it is how we tackle the situation and teach our kids the right way, even when we have a PISS, POOR, PERFORMANCE.

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I’m going to have to re-learn my ABC’s

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I haven’t written about this or put it on paper, but for some reason I feel compelled to do it now.

Friday, May 13th 2011 was supposed to be a special day.  It was supposed to be a happy day.  It was the day I was going to meet my daughter for the first time.  It was supposed to be the day TheBoy was going to meet his little sister.  It was the day for our family to be complete – until…

I heard TheWife in the shower, but I decided to lay in bed a little longer knowing it wouldn’t be another 3 to 6 months until the next time I had a solid nights sleep.  I heard her finish blow-drying her hair and felt her presence as she walked towards me to wake me up.  Her soft hands touched me on the shoulder; the ends of her slightly damp hair brushed my face as she kissed me on the cheek.  I was awake, but I didn’t want to get up, we were going to have a baby.  I mean my wife was going to have a baby; I was only going to be a cheerleader.  Our family of three was going to be four.  We were prepared, don’t get me wrong, but once again we were embarking on unchartered waters.  I opened my eyes and looked at TheWife and said, “Lets go have a baby.”

I got out of the shower, dried myself off, put on my Speed Stick and was ready to get dressed.  I opened the door and put one foot on my master bedroom carpet and heard a pop in my right ear.  I started to feel drunk, dizzy, disoriented…not right.  I tried to move, I couldn’t.  I collapsed to the ground.  What was wrong with me?  Did I need something to eat?  Was I having an allergic reaction to the allergy medicine I had taken before my shower?  I was paralyzed for a few moments and called for TheWife.  I heard her slowly climbing the stairs – she was 40+ weeks pregnant.  As I’m lying on the carpet, naked – she waddles into the room and asked, “What the fuck are you doing?”  I tried to get up, I tried multiple times but I couldn’t.  TheWife was getting frustrated at my “antics” and was getting mad; she thought I was joking around.  There I was, naked, getting zero sympathy as she is throwing my pants, socks, and shirt at me.  I couldn’t blame her!  I would be upset too, but there was something wrong with me.   It was as if I drank an entire bottle of whiskey.  There was something wrong.

I mustered up enough strength and put on the clothes that were kindly thrown at me.  With all the strength that I had, I got up off the carpet and headed downstairs.  If you have kids – Imagine watching your kids attempting to walk down a flight of stairs for the first time.  That is how I looked…cautious, careful, and wobbly with every step.  My head was moving in circles, my eyes couldn’t focus – I was struggling to complete a task I had done thousands of times.

As I handed over the keys and told TheWife I was unable to drive, I received the “look of death” from her.  She had all the reasons to be mad.  This was supposed to be her.   This was supposed to be the day we met TheGirl.  As we were driving I couldn’t concentrate or focus my eyes.  I decided to look down at the floor and tried to comprehend what was going on.  Earlier that year I remember watching the news coverage of a reporter having a stroke on live T.V. during the Oscars.

I finally put two and two together, looked at my wife and told her I think I was having a stroke.  We were still about 5 to 10 minutes away from the hospital and she asked me to squeeze her finger.  With all my strength I squeezed.  She told me to squeeze harder.  The best way to describe my squeeze would be when a baby grabs your finger while they are feeding.  Needless to say, I was no Arnold Schwarzenegger.  For the first time, TheWife had a look of fear in her eyes and a determination to get me to the hospital.  Noticing the fear in her eyes I reassured her she would be able to re-teach me the ABC’s – I’m a good student.

When we got to the hospital TheWife wanted to park the car in the parking garage and push me in a wheel chair to the E.R.  Could you imagine a pregnant woman pushing her husband through a hospital on a wheelchair?  I would have found it humorous.

Up to this point, I still had the function of speech.  My speech immediately went away as I started to explain what had transpired in the last 30 minutes to the nurse on duty.  I thought I was speaking fine until the nurse stopped me in mid sentence, when she picked up the phone and called a code blue, red, green, yellow (I don’t remember what the color was).  I do remember being greeted by 4 nurses and 2 doctors.

The emergency staff of the hospital worked like a well-oiled machine.  I smiled for them when asked (something you have to do when you have a stroke), looked at and read 3rd grade level pictures and words.  All the while, my wife sat at my side and she explained to them we were scheduled to have our baby.  I probably had 10 to 15 (exaggeration, it was more like 3 or 4, but it felt like 10 to 15) CT scans in a 60-minute time frame.  I was administered TPA, IVs were put in, I was surrounded by nurses and doctors.

During my time of being hooked up to every beeping machine, monitor, and gadget in the hospital my parents showed up with TheBoy.  Seeing my son brought a smile to my face and calm to my surroundings.  My Dad brought my son in and he sat next to me and kissed my cheek.  He asked, “Do you have an ouchy?”  I reassured him I would be okay.  He hugged me and he left the room.

During all this time, my main concern was for TheWife.  This was her day, not mine.  The nurses monitored her and me at the same time and when she had a contraction and her blood pressure rose, they sent her to the maternity ward.  I wasn’t going to be able to see my daughter born?

As they wheeled her off, they wheeled me off to surgery to remove the clot that had formed in my brain.  As I laid on the operating room and counted 100, 99, 98, 97, 96, the lights went out.  I wouldn’t lie and say and didn’t see “things” or “flashes of light” but I did and it was truly amazing.  When I woke up from my sleep, ceiling lights were rushing pass, my head hurt, and I started to freak out.  I heard a doctor tell to calm down.  When I finally realized where I was and what was going on I had two important questions.  1. Where is my wife? 2.  Why the FUCK did you put in a catheter?  Needless to say, a few of nurses got a chuckle out of my second question.

My beautiful wife who decided she wasn’t going to have our baby without me greeted me in the ICU.  She is one of the strongest women I know and I love her to death.

I spent 4 days in the hospital and had tests, more tests, and even more tests.  I had one rough night but through it all my family and friends were always by my side.

On May 18th our daughter was born and she is my saving “Grace”.  If she decided to come early I highly doubt I would be writing this.  She is a stubborn little girl and I love her for saving Daddy’s life.  Through all the drama my wife didn’t shed one tear until the night before our second scheduled C-section.  As we lay in bed together for the first time she put her head on my shoulder and wept…she deserved it.  Thank you for saving me.

If you would like to read more about this story click here

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Where’s the friggin’ stroller: Part V of Road Trippin’ 2013


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As we pull into the parking lot TheWife and are in a deep conversation regarding, if we should bring the stroller on our final day on the National Mall.  It was seriously a meeting of the minds moment.  Pros and cons were debated, my fear of mental breakdowns, and the fact we might resent each other by the end of the day.  For those that don’t know, a stroller has many uses:

  1. It holds a lot of crap besides your kids
  2. It’s a bed if a one of the kids happen to fall asleep in your arms
  3. It’s a prison that you can lock a kid in when they are being a pain in the ass
  4. It’s easier to move from point A to B with little effort
  5. IT HOLDS A LOT OF SHIT!!

As we wrap up our conversation and stare at the stroller in our trunk, we slowly closed the trunk with the stroller still in the car.  It was as if we were saying goodbye to a loved one as they slowly departed up the escalator and out of view.  There was a sense of sadness and fear as what the next few hours would bring us.  As the trunk closed, we both gave each other the look, “if this shit goes bad and we regret not bringing the stroller its all your fault.”

We made our way to the Capitol Building – it was raining!  TheWife was smart and brought two umbrellas – TheWife was not smart when she gave TheBoy an umbrella and not the TheGirl – breakdown #1 and where’s the friggin’ stroller #1.  As we walked our way up to the front of the building I was in awe by the beauty, craftsmanship, and architecture.  It was amazingly beautiful.

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The rain turned to a drizzle and we had to pry umbrellas from little fingers – breakdown # 2 and where’s the friggin’ stroller # 2.  We slowly made our way around the building to get in line for our tour.  It literally took us 45 minutes to get around to the backside of the Capitol – where’s the friggin’ stroller #3.

We made all of our arrangements to tour the Capitol while we were still in Chicago and had tour reservations for 12:30 (lunch time).  We decided to eat in the Capitol Café until our tour started.  As we sat down to eat, I had to peel the shirt from my back due to the sweat that had built up from carrying the backpack around – where’s the friggin’ stroller #4.

TheGirl being the youngest and shortest had issues with keeping up with the adults in the group so I put her on my shoulders – where’s the friggin’ stroller #5.  When we entered the crypt of the Capitol (yes, there is crypt), the pillars that hold up the building were in the center of the room.  TheBoy wanted to make sure they were actually held up the dome and kicked them a few times to make sure they were structurally sound.  In doing so he also decided to turn on, “I’m going to be crazy and not listen” switch – where’s the friggin’ stroller #6.

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We made it to the rotunda of the dome and it a sight to see.  I was more intrigued and interested in the great men and women who have roamed these halls.  Amazing, just amazing!!!  We unfortunately had a longwinded tour guide and had a lot of “old” people in our tour group that asked a lot of questions.  Which is fine and I respect that, but TheBoy and TheGirl were getting tired.  While holding the girl in my arms (I was afraid she might tip over Reagan’s statue) she fell asleep.  A daddy carrying his sleeping daughter while roaming the halls of the Capitol, isn’t that cute?  No – where’s the friggin’ stroller #7.  Carrying a sleeping child is like carry a 25-pound bag of wet cement.  WHERE’S THE FRIGGIN’ STROLLER!

We continued touring the rest of the National Mall and the amazing museums it had to offer.  To be able to view the Bill of Right and The Declaration of Independence was an amazing moment.  Towards the end of our day I thought to myself, “The National Mall is lot bigger in person than it shows on google maps.

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We had fun on our adventure without our stroller.  I learned to be patient and realized we rely too much on things we use on a daily basis.  Regardless of the lesson’s learned, I will never forget the friggin’ stroller.  If the cons outweigh the pros, don’t listen to your spouse.

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Or send them here…

If you would like to read more about traveling with kids, spending a night at a museum, or how to properly pack for a vacation check out Dad on the Run and DadNCharge.

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They fixed it after Megatron crashed into it: Part III of Road Trippin’ 2013

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With day one in the books, a plan planned out, we set out for a second day of adventure and culture.  We disembarked the Metro and headed to the White House.

Prior to us leaving Chicago we had friends let us borrow their stroller that was more compact than the running stroller that we have at home.  We appreciate them allowing us to borrow the stroller, but it turned out to be our Achilles heel.  For some reason it made pushing difficult no matter which kid was in the front or the back.  It had a starboard list (for you non-Navy types – it leaned towards the right), which made it difficult to maneuver.  Regardless, we appreciate our friends allowing us to use their stroller.

Our children were an awe of how “white” the White House was and they stared in awe at the enormity and beauty of our President’s home.  It was refreshing to see other families with smaller children “culturing” their children with the rich history of our Nation’s Capitol.  We stared at the White House for a long 2 minutes and made our way to the reflecting pool.

As a person who previously served his country, it was important for me to view all the War Memorials.  While we were at the Vietnam Memorial my son witnessed two veterans weeping as they were making a pencil rubbing of a fallen comrade.  It was a very moving moment and I was humbled by the experience.  TheBoy kept asking why they were crying – I couldn’t find the words to explain why they were crying.  I told him they were sad their friend was no longer with them.  TheBoy being TheBoy informed that their friend will always be in their heart.  Both of the children enjoyed looking at their reflections in the memorial and it brought a sense of calm to my heart to see the innocence, love, and fun they were having.

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As we maneuvered our way through the crowds to view the most beautiful structure I have ever seen, The Lincoln Memorial, I was moved by the size and beauty of the structure built for our Greatest President.  As mentioned before, the stroller was a pain and we were not able to climb the steps of the memorial and stand in the spot where Dr. Martin Luther King gave his “I Have a Dream Speech”.  We took an elevator (yes, there is an elevator) to see Lincoln sitting in his chair as he surveyed the beauty of the National Mall.  The initial reaction of my kids – jaws dropped.  Then TheBoy made the funniest comment of the trip.  If you like Transformers you’ll understand.  He looked up at Old Abe and said, “They must have fixed him after Megatron sat on him”.  Oh my boy, I can’t wait until I tell everyone about that one.  TheGirl thought she was an exception to the rule or being obstinate as she usually is tried to climb over the metal ropes to sit on President Lincoln’s lap.  Needless to say, security didn’t appreciate a two year old trying to sit on “Santa’s” lap.  We took a few pictures, thanked a few WWII Veterans who were visiting with the Honor Flight (click here to read more about Honor Flights) and made our way to the WWII Memorial – or so I thought.

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On our way to the WWII Memorial, TheGirl feel and scraped her knee and leg multiple times.  It was the end of the world!!  Did I mention my wife is a great planner?  Well, she failed to bring bandages, anti-septic, and a suture bag.  With blood streaming down TheGirls leg, we briskly walked through the WWII Memorial with a sobbing child.  It was not fun and decided to end our adventure.

Also, we were not smart travelers and walked 7 miles instead of using public transportation to make our lives easier.  Instead, we carried a crying kid and pushed another in a stroller that wouldn’t roll in a straight line.

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THIS IS SUPPOSED TO BE HISTORY: Part II of Road Trippin’ 2013

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We stopped, thank goodness!  TheWife went into the hotel to get our room while I waited outside with the kids, who unfortunately woke up as soon as I turned off the engine.  I could tell the TheBoy was still tired and ready to go back to bed.  TheGirl on the other hand – was ready to party.

We settled into our room, kids were put in pajamas and went to bed, or so we thought.  TheBoy passed out immediately and TheGirl wanted to carry on a conversation, play with my hair, and rub my face.  That wasn’t bad; the pillows in the hotel were 12×12 shitty pillows, which made sleeping difficult.  I think both TheWife and I got a total of 4 hours of sleep.

“It’s just a lot of grass and rocks Daddy!”

Blasphemy son!!  This is history.  We are walking on hallowed grounds.  You could be standing in the same spot as Robert E. Lee or Ulysses S. Grant.  One of the greatest battles in our American history was fought here, isn’t that awesome?  Blood was shed here, lives were lost here, and this placed served as inspirations to one of the greatest speeches known to man.  How can you not think this is awesome?  This is HISTORY!!

“I just want to climb the tower?”

Gettysburg offers two different towers that you can climb to truly understand the enormity of the battlefield(s).  TheBoy who has no fear (unless it’s Ursula from Little Mermaid) climbed a 75ft. tower with ease.  TheWife on the other hand – I’ll leave that for another time.

I think, as parents we sometimes forget things we think are cool are not cool to our children.  If all my children remember of Gettysburg are cannons, towers, and the awful cow manure smell, I’m okay with it.  It was great family bonding experience at a historical sight I will never forget.  Observing the innocence of a child while walking the battlefields of Gettysburg makes one put things into perspective – in the end, it could be worse, we could be worse.

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WE MADE IT!!!  I hope Mike and Kelly are ready for us (click here to read their blog)?  Our friends live in the beautiful suburb of Arlington, VA and near a Metro station, which makes travel easier for those not brave enough to tackle D.C. traffic and roundabouts.  We unpacked our bags and headed out to our first adventure to the National Mall.

Our trip was planned around the blossoming of the historic Japanese cherry trees (yes, the cherry trees were given to the US as a gift in 1912 from Japan) which surround the Washington Monument and the tidal basin near the Jefferson Memorial…This is HISTORY!!

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Needless to say, it was very busy with lots of photography and celebrating going on.  I have a tendency to get a little nervous in big crowds; it’s very suffocating to me and difficult to deal with.  It also didn’t help it was 90 degrees out.  With the culmination of lots of people accidently rubbing their sweatiness on me freaked me out.  However, I was able to take some fantastic pictures.

Both TheBoy and TheGirl were amazed by the beauty and sweet color of…the pink lemonade we bought them.  They could have cared less if they were looking at a cherry tree or redwood.  They had little interest in the beauty, the white and pinkish tones of the blossoms, or the history…THIS IS SUPPOSED TO BE HISTORY!!

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If my children didn’t truly absorb the beauty of the cherry trees or the significance of a battlefield – I’m okay with it.  They were able to absorb the sweet taste of pink cherry lemonade, climb a tower, and breath in the stench of cows – which will in turn remind them of their trip to the grassy field and the place with a white rod coming our of the ground with a sharp point at the end of it.

To be continued…

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Road Trippin’ 2013: Part I

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The following blog will be a multiple part series on how my wife and I survived an 11-hour trip to “culture” our children with a visit to the Nation’s Capitol, Washington D.C.

For a few months we have been preparing for our trip to visit our friends Mike & Kelly.  Mike & Kelly are friends and neighbors that moved to D.C. a few years ago and we have been planning to visit ever since.  They recently returned from a 4-month world tour and they chronicled their experience through words and pictures (click here to read their blog).  We appreciate them opening their home to our crazy family.

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Our bags were packed and we were off and on the road by 11:30 a.m.  We made our first bathroom stop at 11:45 a.m.  It is then I realized we were in for a very long trip.  When we OFFICIALLY put the pedal to the metal, we had the wind in our hair, the sun at our back, and…another potty break at 12:15.

It took us 45-minutes to get into Indiana and we made the decision to have a late lunch somewhere in the middle of Indiana…we pressed on, with another potty break.  For those of you that live in Indiana please jump to the next paragraph, I’m about to insult your state.  Indiana, at least the stretch along I-80 has nothing to offer to the World.  I would describe it as the armpit of the U.S.  The roads are horrible, the tolls are ridiculous, and my wife didn’t allow me to stop in Gary to visit Michael Jackson’s childhood home, so I officially dislike this section of Indiana.

What I do like about Indiana are the service plazas along the interstate.  They are huge plazas with different food options, gas, and areas for kid’s to stretch their legs without out driving a ¼ mile and paying a toll to get off then paying another to get back on the interstate.

As I said before, we have prepped for this trip and I would consider us smart travellers, I mean TheWife is a smart traveller.  TheWife had bags of books, movies, toys, crayons/coloring books, and snacks to keep the kids occupied.  But, I think we forget our children have attention spans of a 2-year old and 5-year old which leads to bickering and sibling fighting.  Did I fail to mention this was going to be a long trip?

With Indiana and Ohio behind us we entered what I believe to be one of the most beautiful states America has to offer, Pennsylvania.  We drove into PA, as the residents refer it to, it was getting late and we decided to stop, stretch the legs, and eat.  What we failed to remember is our kids aren’t conditioned to sitting in one place for a long period of time so when they get out of the car, they thought we were done.  TheGirl put up a fight getting back into the car seat, we knew she was tired, bored, tired, and bored, but we pressed on.

The valleys, mountains, and countryside of PA are beautiful, especially at dusk when the sun is setting.  The pastures were green, lush, and picturesque but we didn’t stop to get pictures…we “watered” them with another potty break!

When dusk turned to night, I started to go a little crazy.  We were in the car for 10+ hours and I was reaching my breaking point of sanity.  With TheBoy asleep, and the TheGirl at her breaking point as well, going cuckoo with her non-stop jabbering we climbed the mountains of PA.  She kept singing crazy songs and when I would drive over the rumble strips on the side of the road she would scream out, “what that”.  Needless to say she kept us awake and entertained.  We were on a small stretch of highway, at an 8% grade with creepy houses, shadows, and zero cars around us….this was a very long trip.

I kept telling the wife I was afraid of Bigfoot jumping out and attacking our car.  It didn’t help I recently watched a video (click here) that heightened my awareness of bigfoot lurking in the woods waiting for the exact moment to attack our family.  “What that”, I hit a rumble strip and TheGirl helped get my mind on track.  As we snaked through the winding roads my mind would play tricks on me and I had visions of a masked man on the side of the road with a chainsaw…this was an already long trip.

We decided to stop in a small town outside of Gettysburg and 11:00 p.m.  This is going to be a long trip.

To be continued…

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Baseball has been very, very good to me…


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The one constant through all the years, Ray, has been baseball. America has rolled by like an army of steamrollers. It has been erased like a blackboard, rebuilt and erased again. But baseball has marked the time. – Terrance Mann, Field of Dreams

I don’t know if it’s the game of baseball I love, or the stories behind baseball that are more intriguing to me.  In the first week of the 2013 MLB season we were captured by an almost perfect game from Yu Darvish and witnesses to a 20-year-old phenom, Bryce Harper, have a multi-homerun game.  Stories like these are what get my baseball “blood” flowing.

As much as I love the stories, I love the memories I had growing up playing catch with my Dad and brothers.  Long toss in the yard, monkey in the middle, and the game of 500 were played on most summer evenings. Driving to games in a caravan of cars to arrive and leave as a team, the bonds that were shared amongst boys in a man’s game, the incredible catches, stolen bases, and a bases clearing double are what I remember and love of playing baseball.  They are fond memories; they are memories that will be embedded into my brain as much as the 2003 Chicago Cubs run at the World Series will.

As I embark on the “Baseball Dad” journey with my son a part of me wants to go back in time to relive the moments I had with my Dad while he showed me how to throw and catch a ball.  I never knew how difficult it would be to teach my 5-year-old son how to perform the basic fundamentals of the game.  We tend to pick up the ball off the ground more, than taking it out of the glove.  I have a vivid memory of playing catch with my dad for the first time and throwing the ball into the ground.  I can still hear my dad’s voice giving me pointers and tips on where to release the ball as my arm is coming forward.  The patience he displayed during the first few days of my training should be inducted into the, Dad Hall of Fame.  I wasn’t the best student; he was a great teacher who made me a better player.

As I play catch with my son, I try to remember the pointers and tips that were presented to me by my father.  We might pick up the ball off the grass more often than not, but it is the time spent with my son that is the most important part of the game.  How my son embraces the stories, the smells, and the love of the game will “mark the time” of our baseball journey.

LET’S GET SOME RUNS!!!

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Bingeing on some Vedder, not Vader…

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Funny Conversation…

Me – Who is this?


Cameron – Eddie Vedder


Me – No, it’s Dave Mathews Band


Cameron – Oh…

Me – Who is this?


Cameron – Eddie Vedder

Me – No, this is Radiohead


Cameron – Oh…


Me – Who is this?


Cameron – I’m not going to say Eddie Vedder. I got that right didn’t I?

Let the good times roll…

There was a time in my life when I was introduced to a band and lead singer who would change how I would view, listen, and embrace the world.  The band was Pearl Jam and the singer/songwriter was Eddie Vedder.  I am not one of those crazy fans who have posters, tattoos of their album covers or lyrics engraved on my arm.  But, I relate to his music and recently LIFE happened and I was reluctant to have his lyrics and music to escape to.  I don’t have anything in common with Mr. Vedder with exception of living in San Diego and Chicago like he did and I ended up marrying a girl from Seattle.

Was this fate?  Is Pearl Jam my version of The Who?  Is Eddie Vedder my Bob Dylan?  I am able to connect to his songs and lyrics more now then I did when I was younger.  Long Road, Oceans, Even Flow, Alive, Indifference, Black, and Yellow Ledbetter all speak to me in ways I can’t begin to describe.  The lyrics are profound and are deep in meaning.  How does this relate to my blog?  Well, as I have written in the past, both Cameron and Parker love music, which I am thankful for.  I hope one day when LIFE gets in the way for my children they kind find peace and comfort in music.  It doesn’t have to be Pearl Jam or Eddie Vedder, but in the mean time, I’ll let them soak up as much of my influence as possible.

Long Road – Pearl Jam

I wished for so long…I can not stay

All the precious moments…Can not stay

Its not like wings have fallen…I can not say

Still something is missing…I can not say

When Cameron and I are in the car we play, “who is this”, of music.  I have conditioned him to say Eddie Vedder to every song that he hears.  I know, I’m bad, but I find it amusing when he gets it correct.

It was a bright sunny day and Cameron and I were headed back home from a day at the zoo.  Windows were down, the wind was in our hair, the music was blasting and we were replaying the day’s events in our conversation.  I had my iPod in hand and shuffling through my songs and asked Cameron, “Who is this?”  Without hesitation, Cameron replied, “Eddie Vedder.”  After listening for a few seconds of Dave Matthews, Grace is Gone, I informed him that is was not Eddie Vedder.  After the song was over and shuffling through a few more songs, I asked Cameron, “Who is this?”  Once again, without hesitation he blurted out, “Eddie Vedder!”  Again, with regret, I had to inform him that it was in fact Radiohead, Karma Police.  I started to shuffle through the songs again and noticed the frustration build in Cameron’s face.  I stopped on a song and hit play, and before I could even get the question out of my mouth, Cameron responded, “I’m not going to say Eddie Vedder.  I got that right didn’t I?”  Feeling bad, I decided to hit the skip button, because in fact it was Eddie Vedder’s, Hard Sun.

I had to let him win at least once…

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Fishing with the Kings

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Funny Conversation…



Cameron – Daddy, I’m the fisher king!

Me – What makes you the fisher king?

Cameron – I caught 12 fish and a foot long fish!

Me – That makes you an ichthyologist (look it up)


Cameron – Yeah, I’m that and a fisher king!

Let the good time roll… 

How many years does it take for something to become a “rite of passage”?  When does something that has little meaning at the time, have such a huge impact later in life?  For the past few days these are the questions that I have been asking myself.  Am I teaching my children the things that my father taught me, and the things his father taught him?  Do I accurately and correctly re-tell a story that was told to me by my grandfathers?  Am I teaching them the proper way, the way I was taught to tie a hook to a fishing line?  What was the secret I was taught on how to properly put a worm on a hook?  Do I tell my children talking doesn’t scare fish away?  Or, do I tell them talking does scare fish away?  Will they be able to digest the sights and sounds of their surroundings?  Will they breath in the fresh air and value how their time is being spent?  Will they place their hand in the cool water and bask in the day’s sunlight?  Will they listen to the sloshing of water under the metal boat and stare in the sky and wonder where the birds are headed?  I know only time will tell, but I have a feeling all will be perfect in the end.  My children are blessed by two guiding lights, which will be there for them when the path gets dim, and the light of day dissipates into night.

I can remember fishing in the ponds of Oklahoma with my Grandpa and Great-Grandpa.  I can remember fishing in the ponds of Missouri with my Dad and Grandpa.  I can remember fishing in the lakes of Wisconsin with my Brothers.  Fishing brings us together and will be a part of our family for generations to come.  Recently, my Dad took Cameron to Missouri to go fishing with my Grandpa (Cameron’s Great-Grandpa).  There is no better time to spend fishing, than fishing with Grandpa’s.  Every night we would get an excited phone call from Cameron telling us about his afternoon of catching fish.  During one conversation Cameron blurted out, “Daddy, I’m the Fisher King!”  I can only imagine which grandpa fed him that line?  I was happy he thought he was the Fisher King, but jealous at the same time and asked, ”What makes you the Fisher King?”  I was picturing him struggling to reel in a small perch and be so excited that he caught one fish.  I wasn’t prepared for the response of, “Because, I caught 12 fish and a foot long fish”.   One thing you have to understand about my family, we are HIGHLY competitive.  I don’t care if you’re 4 years or 99 years old, if you tell me you caught 12 fish and have evidence of your catch; I’m going to be pissed!  I was proud of my son, but felt it necessary to bring him back down from cloud 9 and told him, “That makes you an ichthyologist.”  For a few seconds there was silence and thought I was getting the last laugh on my 4-year old son when he replied, “Yeah, that and a FISHER KING!”  To do this day, I have never caught 12 fish in one day, and as usual, Cameron gets the last laugh.

This post is dedicated to both of my Grandfathers, two men I have always looked up to and admire.

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Sir, you dropped your underwear…

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Funny Conversation…

Lady – SIR, SIR!!

Me :: I turn around ::

Lady – I saw these fall out of your pant leg

Me – Thanks :: Horrified I immediately grab my underwear out of her hand and put them in my pocket ::

Lady – You’re welcome

Let the good times roll…

Today was a preschool day for my son and we all woke up late…I mean real late, 8:45ish and his class starts at 9:10.  We are usually up and ready to go by 7:30, but for some reason the Father Gods were probably golfing and enjoying a good laugh at my expense.  After rolling over and looking at the clock, I felt my throat hit my feet as I jumped out of bad.  In the process of jumping out of bed, I yell for everyone to get up.  In doing so, I’m sure Cameron thought the Decepticons were about to attack our secret hideout.  I scrambled to each room to ensure each of my kids were alive and gave my marching orders.  As I am getting Parker dressed (I refuse to take her any where in her pajamas), Cameron walks in wearing an outfit that…that, I don’t know what it was, but he was dressed.  Before heading downstairs I have both children brush their teeth and while overseeing the haphazard attempt of teeth brushing, I’m calculating how much time we have for breakfast, and how long it will take to officially get out of the house.  I figured I would have at least have 3 minutes to get Cameron a well-balanced meal and another 5 seconds to get shoes on the correct feet and jackets on.  We head downstairs and I throw Cameron fruit snacks, a granola bar, and a diet coke and tell him to eat his breakfast.  For some reason he had a look of fear in his eyes!  I don’t understand why?  As I’m getting Parker ready, Cameron at what seemed to be a painstakingly slow pace dons his jacket and shoes.  As I’m about to head out the door, I realize I’m still wearing shorts and a t-shirt.  I run back up stairs and put on the previous day’s clothes and run back downstairs. I buckle Parker into her seat while Cameron jumps in his seat and we are off.  I’m driving through my neighborhood at 50mph, when it’s a 25mph speed zone…I didn’t care!  We pull in the parking lot and I jump out of the car to unpack the kids.  I then realized I failed to buckle Cameron into his seat – I’m sure I’m going to hell for that.  I finally get both kids out of the car and head towards the entrance.  I’m carrying Parker and Cameron is following in tow.  We are mid-way through the parking lot when I stepped in a pothole that was covered with snow and slush. My foot is immediately engulfed in ice-cold water – literally everything in my body shrank.  I attempt to regain my composure and I’m happy with the fact that I did not utter the word “FUCK” multiple times.  I look at my watch and it read 9:10, not bad!!  As we are sprinting towards the door I hear a lady yell from behind us, “SIR, SIR!” I turn around to see this lady running towards me.  My first thought was to ignore the lady and continue on my mission to get Cameron to school on time.  As she is running towards me, she is waving a pair of underwear over her head (picture Charlie finding the Wonka Golden Ticket).  The second thought came to my head was, this lady is going to glitter bomb me with someone’s underwear.  When she finally caught up with us she tells me, “I saw these fall out of your pant leg.” She handed me my skivvies and giggled while walking away.  The third thought to go through my head, are these my underwear and did she just hand them to me?  Thankfully, I have yet to encounter this lady again, but if I do, I plan on giving her a high five because I got Cameron to school on time and I’m not down a pair of underwear.