Another tooth story

I was asleep the other morning in a comfortable bed.  Then, I felt it.  I always know when someone is staring at me.  Like most everyone else, I can just feel it when someone is staring at me, face to face.  I am awoken by the sight of Cooper with her face directly in front of mine as she proudly shows off the big ole gap in her grill.

Yep, Cooper lost one of her front teeth.  She was proud that her mother assisted her by yanking out the tooth that she has been moving back and forth, back and forth, back and forth...for days.  Cooper would walk up and proudly and energetically say, "Look!"  So what did I do?  I looked.  There she was, pulling on that snaggle-tooth trying to get it out.  Then it finally happened.

So, as I said, she was face to face with me and I opened my eyes to the sight of her tongue sticking out through the gap in the middle of her smile.  I will not lie, I was startled at first.  I wasn't expecting to see that I must say.  After I processed for a minute, I said something infinitely intelligent like, "Good," and drifted back to sleep with the image burned into my mind.

So, later Cooper was so proud that she showed everyone, and then turned her attention to the possibilities.  Yes, the possibilities of what the Tooth Fairy will deliver.  I'm sure she was hoping for a paper Abe Lincoln.  I think she just wanted cash money, to be honest, no matter what it was.

But this time, the Tooth Fairy was crafty.  She did not provide cash that would burn a hole in Cooper's pocket until she got to spend it on something useless.  No, she provided a craft.  Cooper got a box she could paint and decorate however she wanted.  The box was to hold some little small trinkets, and she was so proud.  I have yet to see the outcome of the project, but I have to give props to the Tooth Fairy.  Good call.  Don't let her get used to cash.  Make her work instead.  Awesome.

So, here is what I saw when Cooper stared at me long enough to wake me up...

You can barely see it, but there is a gap in that very excited grill of hers.

Things I Hope To Teach My Girls...

As a father of all girls I know I have an immense responsibility.  Yes, so do parents of boys, but I especially believe this is true of girls.  The list could go on and on, but here are a few for now and they are in no particular order.  Some are more serious than others and I intend them to be so.

1.  Daddy will always love, protect, and support you.  No matter what, I will always be your daddy.  You may be grown and married with your own children but you will always be my little girls.  I love you all more than I can possibly explain and would protect you from anything.  If someone tries to hurt you, you can be assured I will try to stop them.  Never forget, I will always love you even though I may not like some of your behavior.  There is a difference between the two.  I love you all for who you are as individuals.

2.  You can do anything.  Never let anyone ever tell you that you are not capable of doing something.  It is a lie.  You are all capable of being what you want to be and doing what your heart desires.  If you want to be a doctor, go for it.  If you want to pursue a life in military service, great.  If you dream of being a performer or artist, follow those dreams.  I will not stop you, but support you.

3.  Respect yourself.  If you do not respect yourself first, no one else will.  Whether you know it or not, other people will know if you have no respect for yourself by the way you present yourself, and that includes your body.  Do not let society tell you what is perfect because, frankly my darlings, human perfection is not possible.  You have to respect who you are, and know that your are special.  You deserve to be treated as such.

4.  It is perfectly okay to say "No."  This is something I always want you to remember.  Friends, including boyfriends, will try to sway you into poor choices.  Peer pressure can be a bad thing and just because someone else does something, it does not mean you need to.  Girlfriends will try to pressure you into acting, dressing, and behaving in a certain way because it is the "in" thing.  Do not be a follower.  It is okay to say no.  Boys will tell you what they think you want to hear to get you to do things that they want you to do.  It is okay to tell them no.  It they don't understand or respect it coming from you, they will understand when I tell them.  I promise you that. 

5.  Follow God.  This is most important.  Never lose sight of Him.  He is righteous, he is wonderful, he is amazing.  He will guide, protect, and keep you.  Hear these words, and believe them:  "Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding.  In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths. - Proverbs 3:5-6

  
Now for the lighter side.

6.  The oil light comes on for a reason.  When you are driving down the road and the little orange light comes on that looks like a can with a spout...change the oil.  A brief lesson in mechanics is in order.  An engine guns on gasoline (which you must also put in, but before the light comes on).  Inside, it has oil to run smoothly due to the heat and metal parts.  No oil, no running engine.  If the light comes on take it to a shop and get them to change it.  It is better to pay $30 to get it done than $3000 to replace an engine.  Plus, you are supporting the economy and providing jobs and all that stuff.  The lesson...if you don't change the oil your car will die and I will not buy you another one.

7.  The tire won't change itself.  I will teach you how to change a flat tire so that if one goes flat you can quickly get it fixed and back on the road.  I don't want you to hang out on the side of the highway waiting for some wacko to show up to help.  If it goes flat, change it and move on.  If there is a problem, call me.  If you are married at the time...call your husband.

8.  Boys are stinky, sweaty, and stupid.  They can only concentrate on one thing at a time.  Usually that is a sport of some kind and when they are not thinking about sports, they are thinking about girls.  I know because I was one.  Now I am smart, and  I am smart because your mother made me that way.  Don't tell her I said that though.

9.  Money does not grow on trees.  Regardless of what you think, I do not have a tree in the backyard that supplies me with an infinite number of dollar bills.  And, producing my own dollar bills is a federal offense.  No, I cannot just write a check.  There must be money in my account to write a check for anything.  No I cannot just use my debit card, either.  This is for the same reason.  When you are in high school and you want new shoes...get a job.  I did and it was good enough for me.

10.  Yes, this is your home and NO, you cannot stay forever.  At some point I expect you to go to college, get a job, and move out.  That is called being an adult.  You will grow up and hopefully have a family of your own, and you will have to live in your own house.  Yes I love you, but you will eventually have to get out.

There are more things I know I will have to teach them.  The list will grow and change as time moves on.  Hopefully I will remember everything and not completely mess everything up.  Being a daddy is a great responsibility, isn't it?  I have survived so far and cannot wait to see what the next several years holds for us all.  My only request...pray for us all.  

Daddy's Divas

Everyone knows about Charlie's Angels. Well, I have a Daddy's Divas.

I grew up in a family of mostly boys.  I grew up wrestling, fighting, and feuding with my brothers.  I grew up an athlete.  I grew up a from a boy to a man.  Actually my wife may disagree some days judging by my behavior.  Anyway, not the point.  So what do I know about raising daughters?  Nothing, that's what.  I am totally winging it.  I expected to have sons at some point.  Given my upbringing I considered myself better prepared to deal with raising boys.  Girls, not so much.  But I do the best I can.  My daughters are girly-girls, and by that I mean princesses.  Yes, I have examples.

First, there is "Hollywood Scifres," as she is known by Ashley.  Riley is a diva in the making.  I have photos, of course.  Riley enjoys wearing her sunglasses inside, since that is apparently the chic thing to do at 15 months old.  She mugs for the camera and I am convinced she gives thought to her poses to make sure we get "her good side."  She has attitude which she has learned from her older sisters and has been known to throw the occasional tempter tantrum when she does not get her every desire met immediately.  That's how she rolls.

So, every morning she is in the bathroom while mommy is getting dressed and starts going through all of the hair products (which she does not need due to her bald head).  She must be wearing shoes and she simply must have her handbag (which is actually her lunch tote) to go anywhere.  Once she is dressed, complete with accessories, she struts out the door like she can drive herself.

Then there is Cooper.  She is currently Riley's diva role model and coach.  When Riley needs a push in the right direction, Cooper is freely willing to help.  Cooper is evolving into more of a princess on a daily basis.  She is now concerned with her hair, her nails, her clothes, and especially her shoes.  Thank you, mommy.  I have already informed Cooper that she will need a good job to pay for all of her shoes.

Cooper now carries a purse where ever she goes that is completely filled with all manner of cosmetics and girl stuff, including:  multiple flavors and shades of lip gloss, sparkling hand sanitizer, hair care stuff, gum, and an untold number of bracelets and miscellaneous jewelry.

Cooper went from wanting to play baseball and basketball to cheerleading.  Again, I have photos.  Not too long ago I was helping her with her swing.  Now she is demonstrating poses and kicks, and acrobatics that I am helpless to aid with.  Who do I blame?  Disney Channel.  Curse you Hannah Montana and High School Musical!

And then there is Hannah.  She is knocking on the door of adolescence and I am afraid.  Very afraid.  She is already talking about boys.  Well, she is talking about that Bieber kid.  Before him it was Joe Jonas, whoever he is.  See what I mean?  She already has that whole "hair flip" thing down and is more worried about her cleanliness than Cooper.  The child spends an eternity in the bathroom getting ready.  She still plays sports which is good.  I can coach a jump shot.  I can't explain why some boy didn't compliment her hair.

Yes, I am in trouble.  Luckily, I have my wife.  No, she does not act like a diva, but she understands these people.  The older they get the more ignorant I will become.  I don't know about girls entering adolescence.  I don't know about cosmetics and how to apply eye shadow correctly without putting out an eye or about which shade of red lipstick looks good with a certain color dress.  I don't have a clue about writing cheers or choreography.  I know about basketball, baseball, and volleyball and can coach them all.  I can teach swimming.

Fortunately Ashley can take over where I can not.  She can teach the girls about shoes and purses and I can supplement that knowledge with how not to be the victim of a purse-snatching, and if that ever happens, which shoes are most comfortable for running the punk down to tackle him.  Ashley can teach them etiquette and I can teach them to defend themselves against an attack and exactly what profanities they will utter in the process, and how to use them correctly.

So I guess it will all work out.  I have something to contribute and I just hope they will listen because I may not know about girls, but I know all about boys and who they really are despite what they may say.  So to all of my girls' future boyfriends, I am on to you clowns.  Best of luck.  My girls may appear to be divas, but I assure you they are much more.  

Yes, they are laughing at me...

Being a father is comical at times.  Some of the things my children do makes me laugh.  Some of the things I do makes them laugh.  Now they think it funny.  Later they will find it embarrassing, which in turn amuses me.

Yes, I still like the Muppets.  Actually, I still love the Muppets.  At thirty-six years old I still laugh so hard at the Swedish Chef that I nearly cry.  Ashley simply looks at me with a confused expression, rolls her eyes, and laughs at me.  I have fun.  And so do my children.

I am easily amused obviously.  I will see something and start laughing.  My children will laugh too, only they are laughing at me and not whatever it is I find so funny.

Take last night for example.  I was surfing the web and started watching the Muppets.  I watched "Mahna Mahna," which everyone knows I love.  I got caught walking in the grocery store one day singing it, without my children.  I walked around a corner from one aisle to another and was face to face with a woman who was laughing at me.  She thought it funnier when she realized I didn't have a kid in tow. 

Anyway, back to the story.  Hannah, Riley and Cooper take after me some because they love it, too.  I can't watch just one Muppet video.  I had to find more.  I watched a newer video with them singing Bohemian Rhapsody.  Holy smokes, comedy gold.  I only wanted to see one part, though.  I chuckled through the video until it got the the Swedish Chef unintelligibly uttering his lyrics.  I started laughing so hard I had tears.  Riley and Cooper, and Ashley, were not amused by the video but by my reaction.  They laughed at me, and not with me.  If you haven't seen it yet, see it.  You will not be disappointed, I promise.
  
I hope my kids get my sense of humor.  Ashley as a great sense of humor, but I hope they take after me.  The most juvenile things still make me laugh.  As old as I feel some days, I like it I can still find humor in ridiculous and mindless things.  Secretly I think Ashley likes it too.

I want my children to remember their father not just as the guy who dished out the discipline when they misbehaved, but also as someone they could laugh with, or in this case, laugh at.  I want to create as many memories as I can before they are too old and think I'm not cool. 

One day they will be embarrassed when their friends are over and I am laughing like a little girl while watching Phineas and Ferb.  Now they find it funny.  Later, not so much.  Cooper will shield her face and hurriedly move her friends into her room while trying to ignore me and instruct them to do the same.  Hannah will plead with me to not say or do anything dumb before she introduces me to some boy she is going out with.  I, being the father I am, will say something ridiculous just to see her reaction.  Riley will actually be in luck because I will probably have been admitted to a home by her sisters by the time she is old enough to have friends over.

Maybe I should video some of this stuff so I can use it later.  Then my children will always know how funny their father was and they can have repeated laughs at my expense.  And, they can be embarrassed. 

 

 

 

"Mine"

Anyone that has watched "Finding Nemo" knows how annoying that word can be.  Remember the birds and the incessant repetition of "mine?"  Having multiple children who battle over everything, I hear that a lot.

As most of you reading this knows, I am the oldest of four.  We had many sibling rivalries growing up.  We fought over toys, seats at the table, seats in the car, chores, and who was taller.  Well, Mike, Jon, and I still argue over that and two of us are in our thirties.

My girls are already at it.  Cooper and Hannah argued over which bunk was theirs.  They argue over which one of them will play the guitar and which will sing into the microphone as they sing "Phineas and Ferb in the back yard beach."  They fight over who takes a bath first.  Neither of them wants to go first.  I have never met two children who want to stay dirty more than my own.  Odd, especially because they are girls. 

Anyway, Cooper and Riley are now getting after it.  Cooper is protective of her territory, like most of us are.  Cooper however, is ready to repel borders to stop the attack of her sister toddling into her room.  Well, you would think it is that serious anyway.

Riley walks around the house much like an orangutan with her arms up for balance, looking for something to do.  She wanders around looking for something that does not belong to her and insists she must have it.  Cooper knows this yet still leaves her bedroom door ajar, which provides a great opening for my little thief.  Cooper leaves her stuff around the living room that leads to her room like a trail of breadcrumbs that Riley cannot help but follow.

So, Riley is drawn to the open door and enters.  Cooper, believing her sister has just declared war on her room, rushes to stop the insurgency.  All I hear is bare feet pounding on the wood flooring and this:  "Moooooommmmmmmmmmyyyyyyyyyy, Riley is in my roooommmm."  Then comes the ear piercing "MINE, MINE."  Not from Riley, but from Cooper.  We rush to investigate and find Riley and Cooper struggling over a Dr. Suess book.  Riley wants to read, and Cooper wants Riley to leave her stuff alone. 

Now comes the part when Cooper changes tactics and returns force by snatching the book away and pushing Riley down.  Riley starts to scream not because she is injured in the Battle of Green Eggs and Ham, but because her potential bounty has been taken from her.  We scream for everyone to stop.  Cooper screams that it is not her fault.  Riley just screams because she cannot speak clearly yet.  It really is funny to see it.

Hannah coming over the summer will definitely complicate matters.  With the three of them, it is hard to tell who will side with who.  Actually the pairings will likely change every day.  Hannah will defend Cooper's territory from Riley on Monday, then Cooper will defend Riley from Hannah on Tuesday,  Wednesday Hannah will aid Cooper in protecting her collection of classic literature that contains such exquisite works as "Good Night Moon."  I could go on.

I have other examples of course.  Cooper and Riley are currently in the middle of a battle over the "silky," which is a blanket Cooper still likes and Riley wants.  As they get older there will be the fight over phones, cars, boys, and, and, and.  I fully expect them to one day be dressed in camo and building bunkers to fight with each other as they declare war on the sister who stole the other one's sweater.  It would be funny though to see a sixteen year old Hannah and a thirteen year old Cooper playing tug-of-war over a clothing item and yelling, "MINE, MINE."  And, their father being who I am, will of course capture it all on video to play at the most embarrassing time possible.

I just hope that they don't work together to raid my closet and force me to tug-of-war one of my shirts.  I may have to just let it go and call myself defeated.  It's not worth it to get into a screaming match with a girl over clothing, and I would look ridiculous screaming, "MINE," right?      

Those Scifres girls

Much has happened since I wrote on here the last time.  Riley is now too cool for words.  She knows more sign language than I do, is walking, and trying to talk.  Most of it is just babble, but there are a few words mixed in.  She sports pink sunglasses better than anyone I know and loves to be photographed in them.  Yes, I am so proud.

Cooper is a kindergarten graduate and is apparently planning to start high school in the fall.  She already has the attitude down.  Now, just needs to learn to read and drive and she is all set.

Hannah is now to the stage of her life that I as a father have been dreading.  She is on the verge of puberty.  Oh boy.  Actually, it is oh boys.  Yep, she is starting to take notice of the other gender I think.  Boys are no longer gross with cooties and she is into Justin Beiber, or how ever you spell that kid's name.

And so goes my adventure in fatherhood.  My girls are growing up way too fast.  Cooper already is becoming our little performer.  Last weekend she was using her great-grandfather's walking cane as a microphone while offering up her version of the Beiber classic, "Baby."  My response?  I said, "Cooper I love you but you and Justin Beiber are about to drive me up the wall."  She stopped for a few minutes.

Hannah is that way too.  She uses a guitar though.  Notice I did not say "plays."  The random strumming on an out of tune toy guitar does not exactly qualify as playing a guitar.  Hannah usually is Cooper's accompany...accompaner...uh, gal who plays the guitar.  Those who watched "Oh Brother Where Art Thou" got that. 

Riley likes to bang on things so I suppose she will be the drummer.  Before I know it Hannah, Cooper, and Riley will be rehearsing their set list to sing to Ashley and I that will most certainly include covers of some Beiber songs, mixed in with a little Selena Gomez or Miley Cyrus and something called "Lemonade Mouth."

Am I ready for all of this?  My girls trying to be rock stars?  My girls following boys?  Boys calling for my girls?  No.  I am not.  I will most decidedly not get a land line to keep them from calling.  I mean, what boy in his right mind will even consider calling my cell phone and with a cracking pre-pubescent voice ask, "Is Hannah there?"  Yep, no land lines for this house.  Of course it is only a futile attempt to stop what I know I can't stop.  But hey, a dad has to try, right?

Yes friends, my girls are growing up.  Riley will be talking soon.  Cooper will be performing on stage somewhere (check your local listings for upcoming dates and cities), and Hannah will be telling me how much she likes some kid in her class named "Chip" and how cool he is.

I'm gonna need a lot of help. 

We are still alive!

Well it has been a month since my little blogger has made a post,  I guess he has been on hiatus but hopefully he will be back soon! Sorry

And so it goes...

Sometimes life is just doo-doo.  That is a polite way of saying  it without a profanity laced tirade.  It seems that one things happens right after another, and when it is one bad thing, it becomes multiple in a row.  That sucks.

When we moved from Wolfforth we rented our house to a family that owned a local business.  Everything seemed okay.  We had renters in our house and they lived near their business and had their kids in a good school district.  Those are the only positives about the whole situation.  It continues to speed downhill from there.

We were given about three days notice when they moved out recently, breaking a twelve month lease about four months into it.  And, they skipped out on January's rent.  We were told the house was, and I quote, "Move-in ready."  That is hardly the case.  We got out first really good look at the house today, which I can only describe as...bad.

I walked in the door and at first glance, everything looked okay.  The wood floors were mopped, although streaked.  The kitchen counters and cabinets were clean, as was the microwave.  Again, everything was downhill from there.  The stove was disgusting.  The carpets are a filthy mess.  We lived in the house for over two years and the carpets were not dirty or stained at all.  That was WITH multiple young children in the house that spill everything.  They were in the house for about four months and there are stains and dirty areas all over.  The walls were...oh my.  There was some blue streak from an unknown liquid down one of the walls in a bedroom.  There were smudges and missing paint in multiple areas.  The walls were littered with small holes where large screws were put into the walls to hang stuff.  It looked like a large dog had gnawed on the back door and tore up the insulation seam.  One of the ceiling fans had a busted light fixture.  Huh?  How?  And, and, and...

So now we are in a dilemma.  I am not a litigious person by nature.  However, I am inclined to change my belief in this situation, given the totality of the circumstances.  They broke a lease.  They damaged our house.  The cost to repair, paint, clean and make the house "move-in ready," combined with what is owed to us, brings the costs to about $2500.  Nice, right?

I know...we should have expected something like this.  Or, yes, we took that risk when we decided to rent our house.  BUT.  That gives them what right to do things this way?  It makes me angry just thinking about the situation we have been placed in.  Had we been given time to prepare for this whole thing, we could have had something worked out.  We could have inspected the house before they left and made arrangements with them to have everything repaired, and truly "move-in ready."

I can safely say this.  Never again will I be in this situation.  Is it any wonder why I don't trust anyone?

Oh, the other thing?  Ashley sprained her wrist the other day and will have her right wrist in a splint for about six weeks.  The hits keep on coming.  All nonsense, of course. 

Dressing daddy

All this time I have been telling "funnys" about my kids, so now I guess I need to tell one on myself.  As the father of three little girls I expected days where I would be expected to take part in a tea party with stuffed animals while wearing a tiara, all while simulating the sipping of tea (with my pinky finger in the proper position of course).  I haven't done that yet, but I know my day is coming.

Yesterday we went to a family function in a town I only heard of, but had never seen.  We had a good time hanging out with my wife's side of the family.  There was plenty of good eats and good company.  All was going well.  Riley was crawling around dressed to the nines wearing her holiday dress, complete with hair band and huge hair bow.  Yes it is true she is basically bald headed, but the bow was attached to the band.  We thought she looked very cute, but she disagreed and repeatedly ripped it from her head.  I laugh along with everyone else who is watching her.  Then I lose my sense of humor about it all.

Thinking how cute daddy would look wearing it, Ashley proceeds to accessorize my wardrobe by strapping the bow to my bald head, as evidenced here:

Clearly, I am not amused.  However, everyone else is laughing beyond control.  Multiple photos were taken, including this one by my loving wife.  I look around and see flashes going off and people laughing.  I had a flashback to high school...ugly scene...another story for another time.

Anyway, even Riley thought it was funny.  Cooper called me a baby while laughing an pointing.  Were it not for my daughters, no way I would have allowed that to happen.  But because I am a father of all girls, certain embarrassing moments will happen.  This is the mildest of the embarrassing moments to come as a result of my daughters, or wife.  So for you fathers who do not have girls, enjoy a laugh at my expense just as many others have done.  For you who have young daughters, enjoy a laugh (but not for too long) and keep this statement in mind:  you are next.  Yes, your day will come.    

Hurricane Cooper and Tropical Storm Riley

Those sound like good names to use during the next storm season.  Nothing can do more damage inside our home than those two forces of nature.  It is almost as though they cannot stand living in a clean house and have some unknown urge to bring destruction.

Ashley cannot stand a dirty house.  I have a similar dislike because I cannot stand a dirty kitchen.  I think all of my children know that and intentionally decide to wreck it.  There have been afternoons where all was quiet.  All was clean.  It did not last. 

Riley was sitting in her high chair eating puffs and drinking a sippy cup full of water.  Cooper was sitting at the table coloring and creating a modern art masterpiece.  They saw me sweep the floor and wipe down the counter tops.  Then, Riley had the urge to throw puffs over the side and Cooper stacked junk on the counter.  They couldn't stand it.  There were puffs all over my freshly swept floor.  Riley started banging on the tray in victory after creating a small mess that I would have to clean up so she could, again, create a larger one.  It is a vicious cycle folks.

It is not just the kitchen either.  The living room is one of the worst rooms in the house.  That is where we spend a large amount of time in the evenings either playing on the floor or watching, you guessed it, Vh1 Classic.  Yes, I am now a junkie when it comes to videos.  Anyway, Ashley and I try to keep everything in check and keep at least a path to walk in around the room.  Actually we keep things picked up pretty well.  Then, the storm systems enter the room and the carnage begins. 

We keep all of Riley's toys in a basket in the corner of the room.  Riley and Cooper know this and have the urge to start emptying the basket because everything is too clean for them.  Shortly thereafter the basket of toys ends up on the floor in a small pile, and then the pile grows and spreads across the floor.  Before you know it, there is a sea of toys floating around the room and there is nowhere to step or walk.  We become trapped on the couch due to the debris across the room.  They laugh and squeal in victory as they have again overtaken our attempts to maintain a tidy home.

I understand that we will be battling all of this for the next two decades.  I hope our sanity, and our home, can take it.  As they get older the disasters will only get worse.  Baby toys will give way to Barbie dolls, which will then give way to their wardrobes.  When she gets older, Hurricane Cooper will move about the house leaving clothing scattered from her bedroom to the bathroom and back a she attempts to get dressed for a date or something.  I'm not looking forward to it.  Her dating, or the messes.

Oh, well.  As parents, we will have to continue sweeping up the messes after our storms (children) continue in their destructive ways.  I love our kids, even though they are slobs.   

They really got me...

"I don't know why they say 'you have a baby.' The baby has you."  

- Gallagher

When I first heard that I didn't quite understand what he meant.  I was a young teenager when I first saw Gallagher on television.  In my twenties I saw him live, and his show was still funny.  I knew logically what he meant by that statement but I did not understand until I became a father.  There are a few different meanings behind the statement, but to me it means that they have got me completely wrapped around their fingers.  I'm in trouble. 

I can still dish out discipline (sometimes) when needed so I am not a complete pushover, but it is safe to say I'm in trouble when they get older.  If they can smile and give me pretty eyes now, and I buckle, when they get older I don't stand a chance.

These three didn't do it on purpose of course, but they wrapped me around their fingers.   Look at those faces.  Hannah was first to do it.  I knew when she was born I was in trouble.  The first time she got in trouble and I swatted her bottom I cried more than she did.  She got in trouble for something relatively unimportant and meaningless, but I swatted her on her bottom one time.  She cried not from pain, but from the shock that I did it.  So, as soon as I saw her bottom lip quivering, I lost it and started crying with her.  So picture me holding my baby and both of us crying.  Looking back it was comical.  I snatched her up and gave her a hug and started to apologize.  Surely, I completely confused her.  I'm sure she was thinking her daddy was insane, or maybe a little bipolar.

Cooper caught me a few years ago.  But I knew I was done when she got in trouble in school a few months ago and I laughed while I was supposed to be disciplining her.  My first blog post was about her getting a yellow on her behavior chart and her trying to change it to a green.  She started laughing and so did I.  I'm a sucker I tell you.

When Riley was born I didn't stand a chance.  Her sisters already ruined me so she already had it easy.  She could crawl outside, climb into the car, put it in gear and crash it and sit there grinning.  After getting over the initial shock of how she pulled it off, I couldn't stay upset.  Confused, yes.  Upset, no.

Yep, it is safe to say my daughters are all going to keep me, and Ashley, on our toes.  I mean, look at those faces!  What do I do when they do something and I have to lay law down but can't because they look at me, pooch out the bottom lip, and apologize?  Holy cow.

Dates with daddy

Yesterday I went on a date.  I do that on occasion.  Yes I am married, but that doesn't stop me.  If I want to take out a girl, I do it, and Ashley knows all about it.  Of course, the girls I take out are my kids.  Yesterday, Cooper and I went high class baby.  That's how we roll. 

Yesterday Cooper was home all day with me.  She had a few chores to take care of during the morning which she did with little or no complaints.  That sounds like a shock, I know.  A five year old that actually listens!  Wow.  Cooper did her chores while I took care of some of my own.  Anyway, after it was all done we went to lunch.  I didn't expect to eat where we went, but I should have known.

I told Cooper to change clothes so we could go eat lunch.  Her first words were, "at Micky Dees?"  For those of you non-parentals, that is McDonalds.  I said maybe, then after seeing her big eyes and wild hair, off we went.  I must have blacked out because the next thing I know I was standing in line at McDonalds.  I don't remember agreeing to it, and I don't remember driving there.  But, there we were standing in line with Cooper smiling.

So we order our fast-food, unhealthy lunch.  We sit and eat, enjoying our grease burger and chicken breast nuggets (or so they say).  More than that, we enjoy a lunch without argument, without tattling, without stress.  We laugh a bit, eat some, and enjoy a daddy/daughter date. 

Cooper was very happy, as evidenced here.    

<blockquote><a href="http://www.quotecosmos.com/quotes/29195/view">The thing that impresses me most about America is the way parents obey their children..</a></blockquote><br> <a href="http://www.quotecosmos.com/authors/7785/Edward_Duke_of_Windsor">Windsor, Edward, Duke of</a><br> Quote from <a href="http://quotecosmos.com">Quote Cosmos</a>

Daddy jungle gym

"You will always be your child's favorite toy." 

~ Vicki Lansky, Trouble-Free Travel with Children, 1991

So far this is true.  For some reason my children not only see me as "daddy," but also as a jungle gym.  They will climb on, step on, pull and push on, my legs, back, stomach, head, and arms.  Some days I feel as though I was placed on this earth to serve as my childrens' personal tree to climb. 

Last night we were winding down the night.  I had just given Riley a bath and emerged as soaking wet as she was, only fully clothed.  She is nearly ten months old and has learned that splashing is fun, but splashing daddy is funny.  She laughs at my reactions to the unexpected drops of water that bounce off of my eye ball.  Its like she knows exactly when to splash, just as I turn my head around.  Anyway, I had just gotten her dried off and clothed when Ashley and Cooper came into her room.  Then my role as the toy began.

Ashley sat in the recliner while Riley was playing with Cooper on the floor. I was laying on the floor when Cooper decided I was her personal surf board.  She jumps onto my back, standing up, and begins to "ride the waves" while shifting her weight to stay up.  When she is tired of surfing my back, she decided I was better use as a horse.  So she began to sit on my back and bounce up and down in an attempt to get me to get up on all fours and walk her around.  

When she was younger, and smaller, I used to do that.  I had to be careful though because I never knew when the game was starting.  If I was on the floor for any reason she would run up and jump on, ready or not.  I would be bent over picking something up from the floor and got pounced on.  It was like she was a cat lying in wait for the prime time to strike because her timing was always perfect.  So out of the surprise I would pop up and the game was on.  

Ever seen "mutton bustin?"  If not, look it up.  It is ridiculously funny.  There are five and six year old children attached to the back of sheep running around the arena at a full out sprint.  The kids are hanging on for dear life, squealing and loving every minute of it.  That is similar to Cooper jumping on my back.  I bounced around the room while she grabbed me around the neck, holding on as tightly as possible.  I only stopped when the air supply to my brain was reduced and caused me to black out.  Well, not really, but I was getting choked.  

So, last night, I was again expected to be the mutton Cooper wanted to bust.  I just didn't have the energy.  So I would roll over and off she went.  Thinking I thwarted her plans, I would roll back onto my stomach and get jumped on again.  Apparently it was more fun to get tossed around every time I turned over.  So, a new game had begun.  

Cooper isn't the only one.  Riley has also learned the fun of climbing on daddy.  Another time I was again lying on the living room floor, but this time on my back.  My eyes were closed because I thought, erroneously, that I could get a quick forty winks.  Riley had other plans.  She crawled across the room and slapped me in the face.  Oh so funny to get that surprise.  She proceeded to crawl onto my face, and over to the other side.  Then, she crawled back across my chest to get back to the toy Cooper had.

The funny thing about this is, it does not matter where we are, my children think I am their toy.  Hannah and Cooper have walked up to me while standing with other adults having a conversation.  Each will pick a side and walk right up next to me so that I have to move my arms up.  Thinking my children were being affectionate and wanting a hug, I raise my arms a little.  Seeing the opportunity they intentionally created, they jump and wrap their hands around my biceps and hang on.  They lift their feet off the ground and just dangle.  Now, had I been expecting it, I may have been able to prevent tragedy.  But, on one occasion, they fell to the floor, crashing down because my tree limbs cracked under the unexpected pressure.  My apologies to my children.  

As I get older, and the kids get bigger, I wonder how I will survive.  Ashley may need to stock up on ice packs and ace bandages so I can survive the next decade.  But in the end, injury and embarrassment are worth a few minutes of fun with my children.  Hannah already is to the point where she remembers climbing on me when she was younger and telling me how much fun the "daddy horse" was.

It is worth it to be "daddy jungle gym" for the sake of creating a few memories for them, and being their favorite toy...as long as I don't end up in traction.   

Daddy in training

Sometimes I hear the "Rocky" theme song in my head.  I think it is the soundtrack of my day.  You will understand why shortly.  There is nothing like waking up at 515 am and being wide awake.  The best part about it is that I have to work tonight.  Oh, boy.  I am so excited, can you tell?  There is at least one good thing about being up, so is Riley.  Actually, she is the reason I am up before the roosters.  Riley decided that daddy did not really need to sleep and should be up to entertain her.  So here we sit, eating our morning puffs and coffee.  I need the coffee.

As much as I hate to admit it, this is all my fault.  Were she not so adorable I would let her cry herself back to sleep, but as we all already know, daddy is a "suckaaaaaaa."  Much like Pavlov training his dogs to salivate at the sound of a bell, she has trained me to get her from the crib.  When I hear the whining I am motivated to go to the noise and retrieve the little person making it.  My child is a genius.

So here we are enjoying or morning routine.  Riley is now tired of the puffs and has moved on to the yogurt drops and throwing her water and juice mixture on the floor and laughs as daddy retrieves it, over and over.  Later she will enjoy a bottle which she will repeatedly toss to the floor to watch her egg-head daddy pick up while she enjoys a laugh at my expense. 

All of this makes me wonder, when did my children train me?  How is it that someone of superior intelligence and years of education and training is done in by a little person who has been on this earth less than ten months?  How is it that our five year old and nine year old daughters can train me to respond to their whims?  I am the adult here, right?

Realistically I know that my wife and I are in charge.  We run the household, not the heathens.  But every now and again I realize our authority is being chipped away at by the three combatants we share the house with.  Little by little they are training us, well actually training me, to be their puppet.  

In truth, I love it.  I need to enjoy times like these while they last.  One day my children will hate me for running off boyfriends, making them drive the family car instead of buying the car they want, and for generally embarrassing them in public by the way I dress.  So raise a glass folks.  Here is to the other fathers in training out there who wake up to "Gonna Fly Now," bed head and all.  We are off to watch Totally 80's videos on vh1 Classic.  Oh, boy. 

Let me see your war face...

Tonight we were sitting at dinner around our freshly cooked meal.  Actually, it was from Rosa's in Lubbock so it was not that fresh.  Anyway, Riley was in her highchair enjoying her Hawaiian inspired jar of organic baby food.  It was some pineapple, ham, and rice concoction that actually did not appeal to me, but Riley seemed to enjoy it. 

So there we sat when Riley decided I was not feeding her fast enough.  She let out a screech and made the funniest face.  Riley balled up her fists, pulled her hands up, and made the face.  She actually seemed angry for a second.  If she could speak, she would have likely started yelling at me that I was starving her and it wasn't fair.  Note:  She is in the 85th percentile in weight, she is not missing any meals.  Actually, that is what my other children act like.  So, we started laughing at her and Riley started laughing, too.

I immediately thought of the scene from "Full Metal Jacket" when Hartman was talking to Joker.  The scene was when Hartman wanted to see Joker's "war face."  I asked Riley to see her new war face.  She squealed and screeched and made her face.  Then, I fed her again.  The war face is frightening, especially when she is hungry. 

Riley has now perfected yet another expression.  Now we have a war face, as shown here:

 

My first car

Every teenager cannot wait to turn sixteen and I was no different.  Why?  No, not my sweet sixteen party because I am a guy and we don't do such foolishness.  Two words:  driver's license.  My sixteenth birthday was somewhat disappointing because I didn't get my license.  No friends, I waited until I was seventeen.  Bummer.

After the license came the car.  I got my first car when I was a senior in high school.  The last semester in high school.  I remember it clearly.  Actually, I remember day dreaming about what my first car would be.  I wanted a truck, or some sporty job with a racing stripe.  Ohhhh, a jeep would have been nice, too.  No.  I got nothing like that.  What was my first car you ask? 

The year was 1992, late spring to be exact.  I knew my first automobile would be used and I did not care.  I just wanted something nice, and cool, and I wanted a non-granny car.  What I imagined myself driving was a Chevy pickup.  What I got was a blue 1986 Ford Tempo.  It's okay to laugh, I still do.  I got a granny car.  Bummer.

So there I was driving to school in a Tempo.  I was proud for about a week, until some snob decided to clown on me.  My sister was happy because she thought of me and my not-so-fine automobile as a taxi service.  I was pleased because I no longer walked to school.  But I didn't think so much about the car.  It wasn't cool!  It wasn't sporty!  It didn't have a racing stripe!

So, I worked at the YMCA in high school.  It's okay to laugh, I still do.  I loved that job though.  I had fun and stayed in crazy shape.  Anyway, my car was parked in the lot one day while I was teaching a swim lesson or something. I walked outside to leave and saw this huge white streak down the side of the car.  I knew immediately.  Some clown drove away and side-swiped my car.  What a punk.  My dad was furious.  He was convinced I was lying and just knew I had an accident.  I tried to explain it, but, no dice.  There was one positive I guess.  I now had my racing stripe, sort of.  And, it didn't make the car any cooler.

After three long months with my first car, it died.  That's right, after twelve whole weeks and it decided to put itself out of its misery.  I was heart broken.  Actually, I was.  Now I had to ride a bicycle wherever I went, or drive my parent's MINIVAN.  Oh how cool, seventeen and in a minivan.  And I wondered why I got no dates in college.

I think about my first car and was grateful my parents spent money on it.  They trusted me enough to drive it, or just wanted me to help chauffeur my siblings around.  Either way, they bought me a car and I was happy.  So now I think about the cars my kids will have.  Hannah, I'm thinking will be driving what my brother drove, an Olds Cutlass, or "Cut-Dog" as he so affectionately named it.  Cooper, maybe needs a Chevy of some type.  And Riley, well she will be out of luck since we will be to broke to buy her a car because her sisters' insurance will be out of control.  Maybe she can have the minivan I plan to have at the time she will be driving.  Hey, it was good enough for me.  

Morning fun with Riley

Here I sit at 6am when I should be sleeping.  I worked all night and need to get to bed, but here I sit next to the cutest snot-faced, booger-nosed 9 month old in the world.  I will save the descriptors of that, but you parents of infants know what I see in front of me.  Riley had been up since about 525am.  I was sitting in the living room on the couch, minding my own business, watching Vh1 Classic 80's videos.  I know what you are thinking.  Why watch those old hair-band videos?  Nothing except infomercials is on at this hour.  

Then, out comes the cry letting me know she is awake and wants desperately out of the evil crib her mother and I banished her to for the night.  I am so zoned into the Go-Go's video, I try to ignore it.  But Riley gets louder and more insistent that I go and save her from her captivity.  So when the David Coverdale video comes on I get up and rescue my baby.  Hey, I don't like him anyway. 

I walk in and she smiles as if to say, "Suckaaaaaaaa."  Riley laughs knowing her father is a complete pushover.  I will argue that I am too tired to fight it and just go get her, but we know the truth.  Anyway, I take her from the crib and see she is still wearing the clothes from yesterday.  No pajamas, but the same outfit she wore most of the day.  Why Mama, why?

So Riley is laughing and squealing at me as I walk to her rocking chair.  I made a ridiculous attempt to rock her back to sleep.  I lay her head on my shoulder and rest mine on the back of the recliner.  We start to rock and I realize something is wrong.  Do you know the feeling you get when you are being watched?  I got it.  So I open my eyes to see Riley with a wide mouthed smile showing her one tooth.  She is smiling and laughing again, making me realize that I actually am a "Suckaaaaaaaa."

We walk into the living room and she hears the overly synthesized 80's jams on the television and becomes interested.  Maybe it was the flashy neon colors on that guys face.  So there we sit, her on my chest, watching some guy wearing too much make up and sporting huge hair.  She quickly realizes, as I do, that it sucks and we go to the kitchen for a snack.  So here we sit eating apple-strawberry flavored puffed grain and a sandwich.  I pound away on the keys as she pounds the tray on her high chair begging for more puffs because she is obviously starving and wasting away.  At her last appointment she was in the 85th percentile in weight and 95th in height.  She isn't missing any meals folks.

Well momentarily I expect me tired wife ,who was awakened by the cries for food from my child, to walk in and ask me the same thing she asked me yesterday morning at about the same time, "What are you doing?"  She knows, as I do, I should be sleeping.  But she also knows, as I do, I am a softy and my 21 pound baby has her 230 pound daddy wrapped around her finger.  

I love being a daddy.  Now, off to change the morning doo-doo diaper.  Wish me luck... 

       

Family time

I have a family like many others.  We are spread all over the country.  I have a brother in California, one in Wisconsin, a sister in Louisiana, and my parents in Louisiana.  All of my siblings are married and only one is childless, well, for now.  That makes the holidays tough.  I remember growing up having everyone together for the holidays.  We always celebrated together and then something happened.  We grew up.

As I said, we are scattered all around.  We have our families, and our careers.  It makes it difficult to get together often.  I haven't been home to Louisiana since 2008.  I truthfully don't remember the last time the whole family, including all of our children, were together.  We have met for football games but someone was always missing.  We went to weddings, but again, someone was always missing.  Hannah lives on the California, so coordinating visits with the family is tough.  She is here for the summers but we haven't taken any trips since the trip in 2008.  Hopefully we can change that, and get the entire family together.

I find that as I get older I want that.  I want us all to get together and share family time.  I like our family gatherings.  Usually they go something like this.

When Mike was drafted we all went to my dad's house for the weekend.  Mike, Jonathan, my brother-in-law Jon, and I stayed up until after 3am playing dominoes and quoting movie lines.  We had a ball.  When Jonathan was up to be drafted we did the same thing again.  We were up all night and at 4am decided to go to Harrah's in New Orleans.  We gambled a little, went home, and crashed.  What a long night.  But again, it was fun.  We stayed in the garage cracking each other up playing cards and dominoes, and had complete conversations in movie lines.  Great times.

When Jonathan got married we stayed outside the hotel into the wee morning hours.  When Mike got married...similar results.  When we got together, we would talk about memories from our childhoods, and laugh at the things we did and clowned on each other.  Even my parents would get in on those conversations.  My sibling's spouses get in on stuff, too.  They clown with us and get in on the stories and we have a ball.

Of course now, as we get older and have families, our stories change.  We laugh at the things our kids do, and compare the things they do to what we used to get into.  And we still have good laughs.  I miss that stuff.  I get together with Ashley's family and have a great time.  We have good conversations and fun times.  I love my in-laws and the family.  But there is something I miss about hanging out with my siblings and parents, especially around the holidays.

One day maybe we can get the whole family, including all of our kids, together for a large family meal.  I don't mean in a restaurant, but in a home where we all do the cooking.  I miss that.          
 

Christmas light adventures

Tonight we ventured out on our annual Christmas light sight-seeing tour with some dear friends.  We got together and showed the kids the lights around Lubbock, because lets face it, there is not much around Levelland.  This year went much the same as last year...with a few exceptions. 

We had a great time.  We piled into a Suburban and hit the streets.  First stop...the enormous line of cars at Chick-Fil-A.  Yes folks, it was about 630pm.  That is right at the heart of dinner time.  We arrive in time to pull into the rear of the line behind a string of cars that wrapped around the building. I said that right, around the building.  Chris and I were less that thrilled with the wait.  I am not that patient.  But, we sat because our wives and kids were in the car.  Three words...Keep The Peace.

Anyway, the wait was rather short considering the number of families feasting on chicken nuggets and waffle fries.  We got our fare and again, went on our way.  We ate and looked at lights around Lubbock.  Then we go to...Starbucks.  Ahhh yes.  We always find our way to a Starbucks to get something hot to sip on as we gaze upon the twinkling decorations.  Even the kids get in on some Starbucks.

Oh my friends, Peppermint White Chocolate Mocha.  It should be illegal.  I waited for Chris to order his first so all I had to say was, "I'll have the same."  It is embarrassing to order, but oh so good.  I used to have a Caramel Apple Cider, but no more.  I have been ruined by the peppermint and white chocolate goodness.

So, we finish our trip as the kids are falling asleep one by one, and enjoy grown-up conversation.  This is important for parents because it helps maintain sanity.  It helps to talk to someone and enjoy a conversation where I don't have to worry about hearing of some child's boo boo, which child ate all the glue at school, or try to decipher baby babble.  Don't get me wrong, I love it when Riley babbles at me trying to call me "MaMa."  But sometimes, I, like other parents, need to talk to other adults.  

So we complete our trek "in town" and head back to Levelland.  Sounds like a pleasant evening right?  A great time was had by most.  Riley was tired and cranky so she wasn't as thrilled.  But, let me recount for you the adventure that was last year's outing.  These nights are not always so pleasant.

Last year Hannah was here and Ashley was still pregnant with Riley.  We still had our Yukon so there was room for us all in there, even though every seat had a behind in it.  Luckily, Chris and I were in the front seats.  We had plenty of room, unlike everyone else packed into the rear seats.  So we pile in the Yukon and head out.  We had dinner and Starbucks, then hit the streets to see everyone's best light shows. 

As I said, Chris and I were in the front seats.  Ashley and Liz were in the middle row with Cason.  Cooper and Hannah were in the rear seat.  We all had our respective hot beverages.  Again Chris and I had our Peppermint White Chocolate Mochas.  Every time I think about it I want to go get one, but I don't want to go back to town.  Anyway, Ashley and Liz had something.  Ashley probably had a Chai of some type.  Hannah and Cooper had hot chocolate.  Here is where our story gets fun.

We decide to go to Ransom Canyon to look at the lights.  I had heard the residents there really go all out and decorate their homes very nicely.  I have to agree because everything looked great.  For those who have never been there, it is the most curved roads in the county.  That area has the curviest (is that a word?) roads on the Caprock.  They are not as bad as the mountains of Central California, but close enough for West Texas.  Parents, you may know where I am going.

So we are gazing at the lights.  It is cold outside and starts to rain a little on us, which due to the temperature is more like snow.  Everything looks great and everyone is having a good time.  All is well until I hear one of my children say, "Daddy, I'm gonna be....."  

Let me stop you.  If you have a weak stomach, skip over the next several paragraphs.  This statement was not stopped because she forgot what she was going to say or because she changed her mind.  The statement was stopped because of the vomiting that ensued.  Yes, Hannah got car sick.  I warned you to skip ahead.

I will spare the gross details.  However, I will tell of the comedy.  Hannah vomits from the back row.  Ashley, Liz, and Cason are in front of her.  Two words friends...projectile vomit.  It is a wonderful thing.  Nothing clears a car faster.  Adults are jumping from the car into the cold, freezing rain with no coats on.  People are yelling "Eeeewwwwwwwwwwww."  Cooper is freaking out and crying because everyone left her with the vomiting child.  She is screaming at the top of her lungs.  Only children remain in the car because they are buckled in, and hey, they can't get out.

I figured those who are exposed to the car crashes, emergency rooms, and all manner of gross would be okay with a little vomit.  Not so much.  So who comes to the rescue?  The nurse?  No.  The paramedic/firefighter/cop?  Wrong.  No, it is daddy who flies in and saves the day, sort of.  I snatch Hannah from the car and we run into the field.  Again, no coat on.  Hannah is puking on me while I stand over her making sure she is okay.  Ashley tends to Cooper and calms her down.  When asked why she was crying, she retorts, "Hannah threw up on me."  The look on her face was good though.  It was one of confusion because her parents would ask such a stupid question.  Even she knew that was dumb to say. 

We are all cold, wet, and stinky.  I use whatever I can find to clean up the vomit and hot chocolate from the back seats so people can get back in the car.  I brave the stench and mess and get stuff sort of situated.  Everyone gets back in and of course, the car smells.  I put Hannah in the front seat so I can shove her out the door if she starts to get sick again.  Not really, but I wanted her to be able to get out fast without climbing over other people.  I have the windows cracked a bit to ventilate with the clean, fresh smelling, outside air.  We drive from Ransom Canyon back to Wolfforth with all four adults with their faces pressed against the windows to breath fresh air.  Ever seen a betta fish come to the surface to breath.  Short quick breaths at the surface with wide open mouths.  Ok, all of us are basically doing that at the crack in the windows.  Were it not for the rain/snow mix, I would have just rolled my window down and drove home with my head hanging out like a dog.

We make it home.  The excitement and fun of the evening turned to odors and grossness.  four adults who had been so excited to hang out and look at lights with the kids are now wet, cold, and smelly.  The kids are tired and not feeling great themselves.  Hannah felt bad, and thought she ruined the evening.  I reassured her that it was okay, and that used to happen to daddy, too.  She comes by it honestly. 

In truth, nights like these are for making memories.  Regardless of the circumstances, we made good memories.  Our families hang out together and we will remember these times.  Our children will talk like my siblings and I do..."Remember that time when..."

Last year it wasn't as funny as it is today.  And, tonight went much better.  No car sickness, just a tired baby who let us know she was ready to go home.  The kids did great and the adults, well, we drank our coffee, visited, and enjoyed the company of family.   

A hit and run, and some anarchy

It is hard to think of something funny to write about when a doo doo day was had by your wife and kids yesterday, and you are tired after working all night.  But here we go. 

Yesterday some coward hit my wife's car in Lubbock then left the area without telling anyone.  To that cracker-nut...thank you. 

Really, I mean it.  Thank you for bringing chaos and stress to my wife.  Thank you for delivering to us a bill for our insurance deductable that we have to pay because of your stupidity and cowardice.

Ashley was parked in Lubbock on her lunch break and came back to the car to discover someone had hit the car, and fled.  Great.  Of course that is just what we needed.  She was able to get the car back to the hospital, but could not make it home.  So our car is now at the shop to be repaired.  Outstanding.

Then, there is Cooper.  Yesterday she apparently decided she was done taking instructions from her teacher.  Yes friends, she staged a one-student revolt in her kindergarten class.  Anarchy reigned for several minutes.  She decided that instead of sitting down as instructed, it would be a great idea to run around the room like a heathen child to draw attention to her anti-establishment protest.  Then she slammed some poor child's finger in a door (truly an accident).

But we are not done.  Displeased with the restraint showed by her teacher towards the rampage, she decided to attempt to recruit a fellow student to take part in the social disorder and an argument ensued.  I think the other child was not hip to the revolt and stated the disagreement, which displeased Cooper.  Her reaction?  Run around the halls and library.

Well, ultimately she got some attention, although not the attention she desired.  Ashley and I received phone calls from the PRINCIPAL.  Cooper was crying, maybe because she knew she was in trouble, or maybe because her attempted uprising against the man failed.  Either way, she bawled on the phone while recounting the events of the day to Ashley.  Welcome to our world.

I love Cooper, as I do my other children, but I don't always love her behavior.  I make light of it to retain some sort of sanity.  She misbehaved and we will deal with it accordingly.  At least Cooper accepted her punishment and owned up to her behavior. 

Oh, and to the hit-and-run coward...no, I don't like you or your behavior.  When you decide to act more grown up than my 5 year old, call me.     

Boys and Girls...not so different

Sometimes I think my daughters are more like...well, boys.  No I don't wish I had boys, and I don't dress them as boys.  Well, except for the one time Riley wore boys clothes.  But that was only because it was cold and I put sweat pants on her.  Yes, I was resourceful.  Ashley thought I was just lazy.

Anyway, as I said, sometimes they act more like boys.  Cooper belched the other day at the table.  She brought the thunder and shook the picture hanging on the wall.  Yes, I am so proud.  And Cooper isn't the only one.  Hannah burped so loud, and unexpectedly, I shuttered.  Wow.

And what is it about them not wanting to blow their nose.  I remember seeing little boys with their mothers running away to keep from getting a Kleenex wiped under their noses.  It is like a badge of honor or something to have snot running from their noses.  My daughters...yes, the same.

Here is a recent conversation.  "Cooper, go blow your nose."  Reply:  "No."  You have "boogers."  Reply:  "So."  "That's gross."  Reply:  "No it's not."

Huh?  The child is grossed out by a spider running up the wall but not by snot and boogers streaming from her face.  I don't get it. 

Why this job?

"All that is necessary for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing."
English philosopher Edmund Burke 

I have been trying for over an hour to think of something funny to write about.  Tonight, I just don't have it.  I got nothing.  I have been typing and erasing for most of that time, because as an officer I cannot always say exactly what I want.  It is frustrating at times. 

I came across something tonight that I have forgotten about.  I stumbled on a website that has poems dedicated to fallen officers, being a police officer/deputy/trooper, and to the job.  Some of them reminded me of officers and friends we have lost, and others reminded me what it is to do the job I love. That means the good and the bad of it all.  Here is where I edited a lot.

This job is not what people think it is.  And I think that the general public really does not want to know although they ask.  Sure, I have been asked about the scariest, most violent, or worst calls I have been on.  And yes, I have been to some funny calls, but people want to know about the bad stuff.  To those of you who have asked me, or will ask me...I am sorry.  There are just some things that you don't want, or need to know.  There are things I don't want to discuss with anyone, especially a stranger or someone I don't know that well.

And let's face it...you probably don't really want to know anyway.  And after I tell you, it's too late.  Think of it as me protecting you.  I am keeping you from having the nightmares we have had.  I am keeping you from becoming as pessimistic as we can become.

I can put up with the donut jokes, the name-calling, and the ridicule.  I can overlook the profanities I have been called for writing a ticket.  I can't forget what I see, nor can any other officer.  Our profession has some of the highest rates of suicide, divorce, depression, and alcoholism.  Does anyone every stop any wonder why, or care why we are the way we are?

We are a unique bunch of people.  We get put down by the very same people who later call us for help (I say that from experience).  Why?  Why do this job knowing that I could not come home one night?  Why subject myself, and my family, to such a prospect?  Why put myself through the things I see and experience?

I am not a very social person anymore.  What I mean is, I don't make a lot of friends.  I have a close circle of trusted friends that I would not trade for anything.  I have a loving and supportive wife who has only known me as an officer, and yet, she married me anyway.  She is more social than I am, and I am sure that makes her crazy when I don't always have as good of a time as she does at parties with people I do not know.  I scan the room looking for the bad things, or people.  People find out what I do for a living and want to share a bad cop story or a bad experience they had and ask me why they were treated the way they were.  I don't really want to discuss the cop who wrote you a ticket for speeding.  I don't want to speculate why he did not take a report for what you called him for.  Again, I am sure all of it frustrates her, but can she blame me?  I don't want to discuss my day sometimes, with anyone.  I don't want to tell her everything because I want her to sleep nights, even on nights like this where I can't sleep.  I don't want her to become as non-social as I am. 
 
But why do this? Why be one of those guys in blue?  For me, it is simple.  I believe in something.  I believe that evil has to be dealt with.  I believe those who commit a crime against another need to face the repercussions of their actions.  I believe in helping those who cannot always help themselves.  I believe in doing the right thing.  I believe good men are needed to stand in those roles.  I believe us to be good men.  We are not perfect men, but good men.

Like any other profession, we have bad days.  We may not smile.  We may not wave.  We may not want to engage in conversation.  We may want to just simply sit alone and eat our meal, undisturbed for a few minutes while we contemplate the events of our day to that point.  Don't take it personally, we don't.

Some will read this and have smart ass remarks.  Some will think of an officer they know and give a kind word.  I am not trying to provoke a reaction, but simply writing for myself.  It's sort of therapeutic I think.  At least it has been thus far.

Now, off to try to sleep before an early day, and the start of my week.    

Huh?

If my children were blessed with any super-powers, their power would be the power of randomness.  Sometimes it can be mentally debilitating for Ashley and I.  "Dun da da daaaaa....Random Child."

I can see it.  Cooper standing in the middle of the living room wearing a red jumpsuit with cape and a mask.  On the center of the chest is a huge "RC" in a shield.  Proud of her random statement that puts me on my back due to the mental confusion, she stands over me laughing with her hands on her hips.  Yes, she uses her powers for evil.

It is actually comical at times.  Hannah and Cooper both have been blessed with the power of being random.  Example, you ask?  I think so.  The other day Cooper walks up to Ashley and I and says, "I'm like a teenager, only 5."  Dun da da daaaaaa.  She walked away laughing and I was left with a dumbfounded expression and a lot of confusion.  It can make your head hurt, can't it?

Initially I thought, how ridiculous.  But her statement actually made some sense.  Five year olds are overly dramatic and emotional, just like a teenager.  Five year olds are stubborn and have crafted the art of lying, just like a teenager.  How brilliant.  The fact it actually made sense only confused me more.  How did she know?


Anyway, both of my older children have the equal capacity to be completely random in their statements.  Cooper learned from Hannah, and Riley will learn from them both.  Ashley and I will be sitting around one day minding our own business, when all of the sudden, Riley will be sent into the living room by her diabolical sisters with this statement..."I love cheese, and roast beef makes me happy."  She will turn and walk away with a smile while we are left stupefied by the complete randomness of her confessing a love of dairy products and cold cuts.  


Huh?  You love cheese?  Roast beef...what?  They all will laugh while and revel in our confusion while presenting Riley with the "Random Child" super-suit she just earned.  We will be left wondering if Bill Cosby was right about all children having brain damage.

Yes friends...your child can be random, too.  It's tiring at times, take it from me.  Get familiar with this brilliant rebuttal..."Huh." 

It Is Madness

Black Friday.  Wow, it starts earlier every year.  And this year, it started on Thursday.  That is insane.  Last night I went to work and went through my shift as normal.  Then around midnight I saw the traffic patterns changing.  Wal-Mart became the all important destination.  

I drove by and looked in the parking lot, as I did not want to chance getting stuck in the viper's pit, even in a marked patrol unit.  I was scared, I admit it.  I saw people everywhere.  I though to myself, how ridiculous.  Why would people go and sit in line, in some places in sub-20 degree weather, for some toys/electronics/whatever it is they wanted.  Here's a tip for other parents.  For those of you who are first time parents, keep this simple truth in mind.  Ready...toddlers could care less what is in the box.  Just give them the box.  It would be the greatest gift on earth.  Hours of fun I tell you.

I am not really dogging on anyone who waited in lines at 1:30 am.  I understand there are some good deals on all the holiday wish list items, and hey, the kids are asleep so it is a great time to sneak around and buy stuff.  

As I said, I went to work, and got off shift at 4am.  I had a "honey-do" to complete, and that was to go to Wal-Mart to get milk, water and something for breakfast.  Again, I was scared.  I saw the traffic, I saw the people.  I just knew there would be madness inside.  I pulled up to the store and parked in the South 40.  And I just sat there...contemplating.  Should I or shouldn't I?  Do I risk it inside, or risk getting in trouble at home?  

Needless to say, as any married man knows...I went inside, although reluctantly.  I had already heard the stories about fights in the center of the store.  I was in uniform and knew I was safe, but still apprehensive.  The store at first looked empty.  That could not be.  I saw the madness in the parking lot.  Then I turned the corner of the first aisle and saw people in LAWN CHAIRS sitting in the aisles.  So I stood there watching, and wondering, what the heck they were doing.  They were waiting for the next set of deals to start.  I was on the grocery side and these people were sitting in lawn chairs down the grocery aisles....on the opposite side of the store from where they wanted to be.  The funny part was that they looked at me like I was insane.  

So I had just got off of work, went to get a couple of grocery items (at 4 am).  I was the crazy one?  No sir.  No indeed.

Again, I don't think they were nutso or anything.  I just wonder, why?  Why sit for hours in a lawn chair in the aisle of Wal-Mart?  What is so important?  I don't know.  I know plenty of intelligent people who were out in the bedlam that is Black Friday.  I saw the traffic going to Lubbock at 2am.  I talked to the "soon to be waiting in line for hours" shoppers.  They were excited.  They were psyching themselves up while chugging old, gas station coffee.  Well, they had the old coffee because other officers and I drank all the fresh stuff.  Ha Ha Ha Ha........

Sorry, that was mean, but still a little funny.  Anyway, to all of you out there engaged in the shopping insanity, be good please.  No fist fights over the newest Elmo toy.  No body slams to get the Nintendo DS.  No knees to the groin to steal the flat screen the old man is holding.  Everyone stay calm.

While all of this is going on, I will be fast asleep, safe and cozy in my bed.  Enjoy your shopping folks.   

 

The Board of Education

"It used to take me all vacation to grow a new hide in place of the one they flogged off me during school term."  ~Mark Twain 

Lucky for me I never got spanked in school.  I don't think my wife did either.  I did however, get plenty of them at home.  Corporal punishment was lawful, and in full use when I grew up.  No lawsuits, and no parents spewing crap about their kid's rights being violated for getting a whooping after acting a fool.  My parents, I'm sure, were okay with me getting a tail whooping at school if it became necessary.  Luckily, I never tested that.

Isn't that how it goes though?  A kid acts like a thug, and say, steals something from a classmate.  The kid gets caught.  In my school days, that was an automatic tail beating with the proverbial "board of education."  It was a large wooden paddle with tape around the handle for grip, and holes drilled along the board.  Bad stuff folks.  I witnessed the carnage of Principal Baccus' whoopings by seeing my classmates come back to class with split pants.  I remember that beating well.  That kid actually came back with the back of his pants split right up the middle.

Back then, parents expected their children to get spanked at school if they acted a fool.  Then, after school, when dad got home...the beatings would begin again.

Today however, that would be viewed as abuse and some parent somewhere would be filing lawsuits against everyone from the teacher to the Pope.  Parents would argue that their little angel, little Johnny, would never steal (even though he was caught with the contraband).  They would say, "No...no...he doesn't deserve that."  "He's a good boy blah blah blah."  My response...yes, yes he does.

I know of a kid that was caught with marijuana, in his shoe, on campus.  The kid got arrested, as he should have.  I mean, he sneaked dope into school, was sharing with other dopers, and got caught.  His parents were outraged.  Outraged at the fact he was using drugs?   No.  Not at the fact he was using dope on campus...but that he was arrested!  They were angry their child was subject to search by school officials (perfectly legal by the way), who promptly called the police when they fond his stash.  They argued his rights had been violated.  WHAT?  I couldn't believe it.  Here's my issue...deal with the fact your kid smokes dope.  Deal with his "puff puff, pass" mentality.  Being arrested should have been the least of his worries.  If it were me, I would have been begging to stay in jail to spare myself the much deserved beating at home.  
   
So what have we learned here today?  More school whoopings!  Bring back the original "board of education."  

She wore what?

Everyday when I send Riley to daycare, I would normally expect she would come home wearing the exact same clothes I sent her in.  Isn't that what anyone of us would expect?  I mean, she is not yet old enough, or coordinated enough to strip herself down to her green and white diaper.  

Ashley sent extra clothes to daycare, like every parent of an infant does.  But, I never expect for the clothes to get used.  I figure the "backup outfit," as it is called, would just stay in the bag and not see the light of day.

Yesterday I picked up Riley to a funny, well no, hilarious scene.  Once again, I have photos.

I think Ashley brought that outfit to daycare months ago.  That would mean, it was months ago that she actually wore it...when it fit.  I pick her up wearing that following a blow out doo doo diaper.  The shirt is too small, and the shorts even smaller.  

What was funniest about it to me was the white socks and brown shoes, well, along with the fact the clothes are way too small.  That's my little fashionista...