The Code Monkey Daddy

What would you say you do here?

2011-06-04T16:53:00.000-05:00

I am all sorts of weirdly butt-hurt right now. I just did two things in a row that have left me with the feeling that I'm not super good at anything; just marginally good at most things.

You'll have to exclude the fact that my kid thinks that I'm the greatest thing since sliced bread when it comes to this post, simply because she doesn't know any better. She's not quite old enough where she can compare me to all the other dads in the world, and even if she could, she has to think I'm awesome because I'm the only dad she'll ever get.

So what's wrong with being marginally good at most things?

I guess nothing, but I don't have a specialty. I can sorta run long distances without dying, I can sorta do my job, I can sorta play piano, I can sorta cook, I'm sorta an artist, I can even sorta beat some people at StarCraft II... hell, I can even "sorta" blog. But I don't think there is a single thing in my life where you could look at me and say, "wow... ShankRabbit is so amazing at [insert here]".

So which one do you think is better? To be an expert at one thing, or to be mediocre at most things?

I know exactly where my problems is.

I don't practice. Ever. It's not my style. I just pick up random things, give them a try for a few times in a row and say "I can do it.". But I rarely ever focus on it again and again and again. I've never lived or breathed anything. All those sports commercials that you see where people are beating the living hell out of themselves just so they can master their sport? Yeah... that's not me.

But I frustrate the hell out of myself because I want to be that good at something... so how do I motivate myself to focus on one thing and spend lots of time on it without getting bored with it?

My attention span is like that of lar... uh... huh?

I get bored easily with repetition, which is pretty much exactly what practice is. Repeating something over and over again until it becomes second nature. Usually if I find myself "practicing" you'll see me hating it in a few months.

Maybe I'm just not cut out to be an expert.

Should I be ok with the mediocracy in many things? Is that something I should be proud of? Or do you think I should hunker down and actually start on the path of being an expert at something?

What are you an expert of?

I feel like vomiting words from my mouth.

2011-01-08T11:03:00.000-06:00

Happy New Year, all. I know that it was been quite a while since I've dropped it like it was hot here. No doubt you daily crack open your little blog readers and see a big fat 0 next to my name each and every day. Maybe you've even dropped me from your reader list all together.

The thing is - I don't blame you. I might as well be dead to you. Certainly in the world of the internet, with its constant flow of information, when something lies dormant for more than a week it is presumed dead.

A fickle thing, this internet. If someone posts too much they're annoying, if they post too little they're dead. What is the appropriate number of times to write a blog post? Once... twice... three times a week?

What the hell am I even talking about right now? (like I said... vomit.)

So - what's new (I ask as though we're having a two sided conversation)?

I'm working out more lately - and it is this that has inspired me to tippy tap my fingers over this keyboard - because it is a story that almost brought my wife to piss her pants in laughter.

It had been a while since I had last been to the gym. 2010 was one hell of a crazy year. Between buying a house to getting promoted at work to writing one of the largest applications I've ever had to do for my side business... there just wasn't much time for "me".

Well, I knew I was getting a little... um... thick... but it all came to a head about 3 weeks ago. Isabella and I were getting ready to go over to a friends house and I decided that I was going to don a nice turtleneck sweater... one that I know Isabella simply loves because it's a little more fitted than my other clothes. I put on an undershirt, then slipped into this crimson cloth of neck warmth. I put it on... looked down... then looked at Isabella and asked something I probably shouldn't have. Words came out of my mouth as though I were a little self conscious bitch.

Oh wait... I am.

I asked, "Honey... are these pecks or man boobs"?

...

... (this is her long pause)

" uh.... pe... well they're like... they're pecks..."

"you sure? they look like tits to me."

"Well yeah... uh... squishy pecks"

I have titties.

It's one thing to look into a mirror and joke with yourself on how big of a lard-ass you are... but when your wife pauses before answering the manboobs v. pecks question - you know you TRUELY are a fat snack.

That day we signed up for memberships at Golds Gym.

Fast forward one week from that day. Remember how I said I used to work out? Well I sort of remembered the weights I used to lift then so I figured I'd start there, right?

After a nice warm up of running at the blazing pace of a 12 minute mile (did I say I was running or walking... I forget) - I headed on over to one of the peck machines (anti-tit machines is how I like to think of them). I sit down and stared at the big stack of weights for a while and started hating the previous meat head to use the machine. Really, jackass? You had to push 250lbs right before I sat down?

Did I used to do 80? 90? lbs on this machine back in the day? Or was it 100... yeah... I'm huge and ripped it had to have been 100. Since this is my first day back maybe I'll dial it down to a cool 80.

I proceed to take the peg out of the 250 slot, cursing the unknown person before me as I move it up 170lbs of plates.... that asshole...

Whatever... on to me and un-man-titting myself. 80lbs - here we go.

With a confidence of 1000 muscle men, I grab the bars and give a good push. I'm not sure if it was my confidence or my arrogance which prevented me from realizing the weight was at the top of my limit until I was fully extended. I do know that I had fully extended and had immediately started hating myself as I wanted to cry, quit, and shit my pants all in one fell swoop.

That's when the internal meat-head took over.

"Well, sissy boy - everyone in the gym already saw you lighten the load by 170lbs... what are you going to do? Give up? Hhahahahaha"

"Screw you, internal meat-head. This hurts."

"Yeah, but everyone's watching. You already have tits, if you give up now they'll think you have tits and a vagoo."

"But I don't! I'm all man!"

"Looks like it, girly boy. Why don't you lesson the load by another 80lbs. Or better yet, there are some cute pink 5lb weights in the girls only room. I bet they'll accept you over there."

"No! I'm huge! Look at me... I can do this! This is easy!"

Which is why I proceeded to do one rep... then two... then ... (oh god this is stupid and this hurts)... three...

I think I made it to about 6 before I couldn't do anymore partly because I was exhausted and partly because it felt like I had just torn my titties in two.

I stood up, got a drink of water, then sat back down for another set. Before touching the peg I looked around to make sure no one else was looking, then moved it up another 10 lbs. 70lbs - this is more manageable.

"Sissy."

"Shut up."

70lbs, here we go. I slowly grabbed the bars, slow breath in, and extenHNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGG (huff huff) HNNNNNGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG ONE!

"Hahahahaha! Giving second thoughts to the girls only room?"

"Mayb... NO! Shut Up! I was only kidding around - only making it look like that was difficult"

But it was difficult - and once again I had committed to it - so I had to continue. I had to for the sake of all men in that gym. If I started showing weakness, then I would besmirch the reputation of all the meat heads trying to pick up chicks that day. I couldn't do that to them - they were doing their job so well.

The next day I woke up and was reminded of my folly the day before. Reminded by the 1000s of daggers jabbing into my boobicles. That sensation lasted the whole week - every day reminding me what an idiot I am... and what a jackass that guy was before me.

250lbs... honestly...

Not a Common Situation

2010-09-25T08:31:00.000-05:00

Happy Saturday! I'm the fortunate receiver of a child who woke up earlier than I wanted her to. It doesn't bother me, because it means that her and I get to hang out during a time where she's usually a little more cuddly than normal. Lord knows her daddy loves some cuddling.

I never give my wife enough praise.
She really is an amazing and thoughtful woman. Being a stay at home mom, she doesn't really have "loads" of stress. Sure, the child can be a toolbag from time to time, but she doesn't have to deal with the stress of excelling at work so that you don't lose your job. My family is completely dependent on my salary and if I were to lose my job... yikes.

I'm not overly concerned about it, but I know that any parent who works has that healthy fear.

Isabella takes good care of me, though. She knows that I have a slightly more demanding job, which usually requires longer hours - sometimes into the night. Whenever that happens she is usually the one who gets up and closes the bedroom door while she tends to the kid while she lets me continue to sleep. It really is a gesture that means a lot to me... especially when I was up until 3am the night before.

Sometimes she need the late night too.
The silly girl rarely goes out by herself. It's not that she can't, it's just that she doesn't want to. She's a big time family girl because that's one thing she never had when she was little. Having all of us together brings her loads of happiness. Often times she is so worried about the "family" portion of life, that she forgets about the "Isabella" portion of life.

She's a fantastic mom... so much so that all I can say is Niamonster is healthy, smart, compassionate, and coordinated (sometimes) little girl - having a mom that can nurture that is amazing. All to often, though, she's ONLY mom.

Sometimes I make her go out with friends at night just so she can have a small glimpse at herself outside of the "mom" world.

Last night she went clubbing.

I first have to brag because during dinner she was pondering what to wear to our friends birthday party at a dance club. We came to the conclusion that we should probably run to Target to get her a new shirt that was "boobie enough" but not too "boobie". But when I got there I started getting really excited about her being a hot piece at the club - so I was on a fast kick to get her a whole new outfit.

Check out this hot outfit-

Yeah - I got skill.

I haven't heard the stories yet...

But from a text message I got last night she had been hit on at least once (I mean... wouldn't you?). What's funny is that most normal guys would probably get jealous if they found out their wife was getting hit on by some creeper at a dance club - but not me. It makes me feel awesome for two reasons.

Because I know she's hot and really can't blame the other guy.
For as much as I tell her how beautiful she is, I know she'll think it's biased. But if some stranger tells her how beautiful she is and flirts with her - that means something. (weird... I know)

I'll get up early every weekend morning!
I can't make her go out. I can't make her want to go out. But I really wish she would do it more because while I really freaking love the "mom" side of her, I don't want her to lose the "Isabella" side of her. I like to make her feel pretty and MORE than an awesome mom. She's a hell of a individual too!

I'm a sensitive little boy.

2010-07-16T14:38:00.001-05:00

I'm one of those people who cracks jokes about things that make me uncomfortable or uneasy. The more difficult and challenging the situation, the funnier I become. Wrap that into a poorly timed delivery and often times I come off as a real jack-hole.

A good example of this was when my wife was about to go under the knife to get a fairly large abscess take out of her. At the time we didn't know what it was... endometrioma, a small alien, or, God forbid, cancer. I liked to call it her little alien love child - and then suggested that next time she keep her legs closed when getting abducted by aliens.

Now thankfully my wife loves me enough and gets me enough that she actually finds my nervous and poorly timed jokes slightly funny. It's one of the reasons I married such a wonderful woman.

However, there are things that I cannot take lightly. Things that I will never crack jokes and I will never be receptive to jokes, laughter, or humor.

My insecurities

I'm not talking about the insecurity of having a fat ass or a head of hair that makes it look like I'm sporting a 1980s curly trailer mullet... I'm talking about the insecurities that sit on the core of your soul... the ones you know you have but don't want anyone else to see.

My biggest insecurity is the fact that I have little confidence in being able to classify myself as a good father and/or a good husband.

You've got to understand that, to me, I suck at playing this game. I'm the poor uncoordinated fat kid that can't catch, can't run, and can't jump - AND always gets picked last in the game of fatherhood.

So what sparked the thought for this post

As some of you may know, I own my own business doing application development. With assisting around the house while my wife recovers from getting knives jabbed into her, I have had to displace some of the time that I normally dedicate to completing this very large project due in about a week. The time has now caught up to me and I'm in "uh oh" mode... which means I need to be balls-to-the-walls this weekend.

...which also means not spending lots of time with my family.

...which also means that I suck as a dad and husband.

To boot, we were originally going to drive down to Indy to visit some friends for the weekend and I would have been really screwed.

When I told my wife what had to happen this weekend... she did the thing that you're not supposed to do when I'm explaining that I'm going to have to work most of the weekend... when I'm admitting that I suck...

...she laughed

That's not funny.

"Because we were originally going to spend all weekend down in Indy... and then since we aren't going I was just expecting that you'd be spending time with us."

That's still really not funny and thank you for further rubbing in why I hated telling you to begin with.

I don't know why I'm so insecure about it. My kid smiles and my wife hasn't left me. I guess I must be doing something right.

But are you doing it "right" when you know there are so many things you do "wrong"?

Oh well, I'll finish my project this weekend and we'll have that much extra money in the bank for it. Maybe I'll buy her something nice. How wonderfully middle class is that?

Oh... happy Fatherhood Friday! Haven't badged this is a while. This is a community of a bunch of great dads. Go check them out!

This post is not for the squeamish. It's a poo post.

2010-06-18T12:54:00.000-05:00

Disclaimer:

This post is not for the feint of heart, it is not for those who cannot and do not find poop or the act of pooping hilarious. If you just got done eating, maybe wait a few hours before continuing on... if you're thinking of eating a Reeses peanut butter cup soon, think about passing on this post... if that chocolate fudgy bar is calling your name right now, I guarantee it won't be if you finish reading this post.

"But why?"

Because this post is about poo... and not just the cute little nuggets of gold that my 2 year old drops, but about the rancid death blobs that come sneaking out of mine.

Curious?

Then let's continue.

Coming up on Father's day, I love taking some time to reflect on who my child is and what she has done for me even though she may not know it or understand it yet. I'm proud of her accomplishments, be it as small as they are to me - I know they are monumental to her and her fervor and determination (and sometimes full on frustration) are things that make me so happy that she is my daughter.

I also like to take time to look at her and analyze her looks and personality traits that clearly come from me. It's fun to see little pieces of me in her - fun to see that what I have created (well... I guess all I did was plant the seed - check out Isabella's blog if you're actually interested in the creation part of it.).

Now that Niamonster is over the age of 2 we have started potty training - and we've found another trait that she clearly got from me.

Pooping on public potties does not and will not EVER happen.
("you're kidding, right?")

Public toilets are the devil. They swim with bacteria and viruses from every man-ass that's sat on them. Women don't understand because they "hover". They have this crazy ability to take a deuce and never touch the seat - maybe it's the low center of gravity... maybe it's the hips... maybe it's because men have turds that are the size of small children... I don't know - we just can't hover like the girls.

Even if I tried - I get stage fright. The fear of having some crazy STD transfered to my butt mounds or other nether-regions, makes me tighten up like a scared squirrel.

Finally - I hate the fact that other people are in there and are usually listening very intently on what's going on behind the locked and mysterious door number 3. Pooping is my private time - my time to reflect on life, who I am, and what I'm trying to become. Having someone invade that privacy by peeing in the urinal while I'm in there... or... god forbid, sit in the stall next to me, is akin to Voldemort sneaking his way into Harry's mind through Legilimency - only my butt doesn't have the ability to practice Occlumency.

There was one time that I was forced to make a life or death decision. You see, I have something called Celiac disease. In summary, if I eat anything with gluten (wheat, oat, barley, a few others), it destroys my small intestine. (This is different then gluten intolerance because intolerance doesn't kill, only cause rumbly tummy and discomfort... Celiac is an auto-immune disorder, intolerance is not.) If, somehow, gluten finds its way into my system, my body goes on this crazy flush cycle to get everything out in the fastest and most painful direction.

We were driving from Indiana to Wisconsin on a return trip home and the start of the trip had a few signs of "uh oh" in my tummy. I thought we would be ok, so off we went. Well - it caught up with me - and my body decided to run the colon cleanse without my permission. So I had two options - shit my pants - or find somewhere in the middle of farm country Indiana. I was a ticking timebomb and my wife (and my pants) were going to be the victims of a terrible nuclear, shit filled fallout. I had no choice... we had to stop at a Walmart that we thankfully found... and I had to... HAD TO!

So in I rush to the store's bathroom, slam open the door like Flack busts in on CSI:NY only to be punched in the eye balls OF SOMEONE ELSE'S EXCREMENT! AGH! Timebomb, timebomb, NEXT STALL!!!

Jump out of used up stall one, to the next one - TP... check - turdless bowl... check - quick quick wipe the seat off... oh god - piss on the seat - whatever... wipe if off I'll shower later - drop drawls.... and KAPBLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOPTPPTPTPTPTPT. (ahhhhhhhh)

Kids? Voices? Oh shit... uh... uh... don't make a noise... I hear them walk into the first stall, and hear "EWWWWW" (hahaha... stupid kids found the turd bowl - I'd laugh if I wasn't trying to pretend that I was not there.) Then I hear the little shits walk towards my door. [Door is closed, buddy, probably means someone is in there... don't you] {rattle rattle} "What the hell - it's locked" [No shit it's locked genius - someones in here... why isn't he moving away... why isn't he trying the next stall.]

The next thing I know this little 7 year old kids head is staring at me. STARING AT ME FROM UNDER THE STALL!!! WHAT THE HECK IS GOING ON!!! He smiles, laughs, and walks out of the bathroom with who I can only imaging was his brother. "Hahaha... that dude was totally pooping."

They never used the restroom - it was like satan called them up from the depths of hell just to walk into the bathroom and torture me... they were there just to stare at me pooping.

As if that wasn't bad enough - I now have to wipe. Which brings me to another point of why I hate public restrooms.

The toilet paper.

See, at home - we have quad-layered, double quilted, fuzzy comfy bears who LOVE to caress my ass clean.

Public restrooms have this:

1/2 ply, diamond encrusted, dagger paper - now with NO ABSORBING power.

They call it quilted - but those aren't quilts, those are devil marks solely there to remove layers of sensitive skin. And this paper doesn't wipe, it smears... so you have to use over 9000 sheets which I'm pretty sure doesn't remove the poo - it just spreads it across your crack so thin that it LOOKS like you got it all out.

After using the butt tissue engineered by the lord of hades himself, I stand up - look at the damage (pretty impressive, actually) - and I flush...

And the bowl fills... and fills... and... oh shit.

I ran. I ran like a little girl - and I didn't care that the bowl probably overflowed and decorated the floor with my artistic expression. I was done.

This is a perfect example of why I NEVER poop in public restrooms. EVER!
(and to that little kid... I hope karma pays you a visit someday)

("shank... wasn't this about your daughter")

No. Get off my back. It was about pooping. But let's bring it full circle anyway.

My daughter, bless her soul, is the same way. She HATES public restrooms. Cries and screams just like I want to when I am forced to use one. I've never made her use one yet, but my wife (who doesn't quite understand the emotional destruction that public restrooms can cause) will sometimes make her. And, if she's as much like me on this topic as I think she is, is dying a little more inside every time.

Someday Niamonster will read this and ask what the words "shit" and "ass" mean - because daddy has a potty mouth even though she doesn't know (yet). And then I'll put my arm around her as she looks at me and says, "see dad? you do get me"

Love you baby girl. Don't ever think you have to force yourself to do what daddy had to do once. I'm always there for you and will always drive you to where you should be when you make a doody - the comfort of your own home.

Art Swap 2010

2010-06-02T00:19:00.006-05:00

So a wonderful person (and father) who I've had the pleasure of meeting online, setup this really awesome virtual event called Art Swap 2010. If you're a twitter-maniac (or even if you just have an account) check out the hash-tag #ArtSwap2010.

How this worked: You signed up, you were given some random person's name - a different random person got your name - and then you did art and sent it along - and in return you get art.

This made me get off my butt and flex a college degree that I haven't really touched in 6 years. (Art degree, you ask? Yes... Art major turned programmer - bask in its glory).

So here was the painting I did (please excuse the HORRIBLE lighting and cell phone camera shot):

Today I just got my art and holy man was I excited... BEHOLD! A BOX!

Wait... what's that... CH? Chicago? no... Chatenooga?.... no no... Montana? (they're weird like that)... definitely not... that looks like... HOLY CRAP! IS THAT A COUNTRY CODE? (quick and speedy googley search because I'm geographically retarded...)

HOLY SHIT, THAT'S SWITZERLAND! WHOO HOO! INTERNATIONAL ART!

Let's get down to getting this open. Cut a little tape here, a little tape there...

Oooooh! Bubbly!

Wow - this this was really packed well for overseas travel. (What is not evident is the surgical like precision I used with my scissors to get it open without damaging the art.)

Whoa! This is amazing. The color... the composition... I wish I was half as good. (please don't scroll back up to compare, it would shame me.)

So, to my overseas art buddy - you're an awesome artist. Thank you for my new wall art which I will display proudly.

Another business trip out of the way.

2010-03-17T21:01:00.009-05:00

As I work my way slowly up the corporate ladder, I find myself having to hop in a plane in the name of business more often. First trip was out to Seattle and the second trip was to Vegas.

I love to travel and see new places and absorbing all of the sites and sounds that are not familiar to me. On top of that, I absolutely love to fly. Ever since I was a little wee lad I have been completely fascinated with airplanes and flying. Before my vision went to crap, I wanted to join the Air Force and be a fighter pilot. Alas, I'm blind as a bat, so commercial "fighters" will have to do just fine.

There is just one small issue when flying for business.

I'm alone.

Oh I may have a few co-workers with me and I know that I will always have plenty to do while at my destination necessitating my businessness (oh yeah, I just made that up), but when all is said and done, the bed just isn't as warm without my wife next to me and my child relatively close.

Technology is really awesome in how it just explodes. Take for instance that I am writing this blog post while travelling over 600mph at a leisurely 41,000 feet above the very solid earth. I also love the fact that I am and can always be connected to my family, even if it is through a digital medium.

However, it's a double edged sword.

I'm sitting at a conference and my phone does it's little vibraty thing. I pick it up because I'm in the midst of fighting fires at work and dreading the update from the product manager (or is it project manager... I always forget). But there is no email, there is a message from my wife - it's a picture message. I first read the caption and see "Cheese DaDa" only to see the picture load to punch me in the emotional daddy face. There is my beautiful little girl with the cutest grin.

My first reaction is "awwww", but immediately follows the, "Holy crap I miss them."

I never used to be a HUGE sappy face, but three things in life have progressively changed that.

1. Almost getting my head blown off.

2. Getting married.

3. Having a child.

Since those three things happened I tend to wear a few more of my emotions on my sleeve.

Imagine if you will, thousands of alpha males all getting their nerd on, absorbing all the knowledge and information they can... and my sappy ass is fighting back tears in the 10th row.

Yeah... it was that awesome.

I was yelled at by multiple people.

2010-03-12T11:51:00.005-06:00

I'm going to sound like a broken record here, but I know that I don't post as often as I used to. Blah blah blah work, blah blah blah new house, blah blah blah family. I know you've heard it all before, so unless you think of me as a classic record that you love to spin up on your turn table just to hear that fantastic lick again and again (which I doubt you feel that way), I'll stop talking about it.

I look at that more like a Black Eyed Peas song... "I gotta feelin'... " Yup - you're welcome I just put that song in your head for the rest of the day.

What I didn't know was that people actually get pissed at me for not writing in my blog, as though I'm doing them a disservice for not keeping them up to date with the on-goings of my life. You know, you could just come over for a beer and experience it. But alas, if reading is what you must do - then who am I to deny attention.

Yes... I whore attention.

My belly is full and fat right now. My stomach's dear friend, Alton Brown, from Food Network had a recent episode of Good Eats where he described the science of the tongue, specifically how sodium has this beautiful knack of blocking the bitter receptors on the tongue. It's not wonder he adds kosher salt to all of his yummy sweet treats.

His recent recipe included baking your bacon for 30 minutes, then sprinkling a mixture of brown sugar and pecans (combined in a food-pro of course).

Needless to say, both Isabella and I just had major food-gasms.

I own a house now.

How fun to write such a simple plain sentence about a crazy huge experience. I've taken the next step in my life to put myself in the hugest amount of debt ever. I was explaining to Isabella the other night how the house is more expensive then she and the kid put together right now. (I say right now, cause Lord knows the kid is just going to progressively get pricier).

I've heard stories about how generations before us never took us loans out to pay for their houses. Yeah, well, houses used to be 10-20k. Now the prices are 10x that so I'd love to see someone who saves up hundreds of thousands. Although, how fun would that be to slap down a suitcase packed with bills.

Do you accept cash? Cha-ching!

I'm leaving for Las Vegas on Sunday night. I'm actually pretty scared about it due to the hype that goes along with it. All the movies, tv shows, and slogans lead towards the "sin" aspect of the city. Well, I'm not saying I'm an angel, but at the same time I've got my morals and my religion. So you can understand the conflicting feelings I'm having right now of "YAY VEGAS!" and "STAY AWAY HOOKERS!"

Yeah, I know. All the glam and porn and xxx and gambling is all hyped to the max because it's what sells, and I'm sure it's just a normal city with one block of craziness - but... whatever.

I'm going there for a reason though so it should keep the porn off of me. My work is graciously sending me to the MIX2010 conference. There's going to be a lot of good sessions going on, so I ggguuueeeessss I'll stay a little sober.

Until next time... stay beautiful.

Happy New Year - Let's get busy!

2010-01-18T23:13:00.006-06:00

I know I'm coming in a solid 18 days late, but Happy New Year!

Before I start firing off about the specific thoughts in my head, I would like to take a small moment and go over how you should pronounce the current year. If you have read this somewhere else, please feel free to skip to the next section. However, if you're one of those people who isn't quite sure how to say the current year when speaking to others, please take a moment and indulge yourself in this community service message.

We have grown accustomed to saying "Two-Thousand and..." for the past nine years. If you shortened it, I'm sure you've said, "Oh [number]" as in "Oh-nine". This, however, should be erased from your memory for the next 90 years.

To start, I'd like you to say out loud (or in your head if you're in the office and people would think you a freak.) (unless they already do... then out loud is fine) (and probably expected)(... freak)

1810

How did you say it? Probably "Eighteen Ten", which is exactly the correct way of saying it. Let's try another:

1910

Now how did you say that one? If you said "Nineteen Ten" then you're doing great. Let's do one more:

2010

This one is tricky. If you said, "Two Thousand and Ten" then I should smack you in your little melon head. Why in god's name would you purposely add 2 extra syllables to the pronunciation of the current year?

The correct way to say this year is: "Twenty Ten". Look at that amazingness! Only 3 syllables and a consistency through the ages.

Now you won't look like a colossal douche-bag when you say the date to your friends.

You're welcome.

But that really isn't the point of today's post...

Let's all beat the crap out of our kids.

Straight up!

Punishment is never a fun topic to talk about, especially with friends. We all have our own ways and our differing opinions on the topic and sometimes it even gets to the level of religion or politics when the discussion comes up in a group setting.

I like the generalize the crap out of people (helps my little mind understand oddities), so I've come up with a list (squeee!) of the typical groupings of parents with their ideas of punishment.

- The "my child is an angel" parent.

No, no your kid is not. All kids are hellions with spacklings of cute. I've seen your kid scream and cry when he doesn't get his way. What you're doing is raising a child who is destined to victimize themselves throughout life and demand that all things should be handed to them while in turn they think that they are flawless.
Expert Level: Your child is a full blown narcissist.

- The "if I ignore it, it goes away" parent.

Go ahead, turn the TV up louder. If you can't hear it, it must not exist. Maybe stay at work extra late so you don't have to deal with it when you get home since they'll be asleep. Turn your back in the store and pretend that it's someone else's kid (pretty sure the clinging to your pant leg is a total give-away though). Your child will be lucky if they grow up at all.
Expert Level: You leave your kid at the store.

- The "my child fell down the stairs" parent.

Calling DCFS, calling DCFS, coming DCFS - we have a "person" who isn't worth the dirt I walk on. In all seriousness, if you've ever purposely and intentionally hurt your child to the point of injury, consider not being a parent anymore, cause I'm pretty sure I just stopped considering you a human.
Expert Level: Let's not go there.

- The "threaten with no follow through" parent.

Now this one I see a lot of, and I understand that you have to pick your battles wisely, but I'm focusing on the parents that ONLY punish this way. Maybe it's the hope that the threat will be enough to properly train a child. Here's a little news flash: It's not. Kids are smart. Wicked freaking smart. And they can totally tell when you're full of shit. Then, they'll start manipulating situations so that you threaten them, and they play "hurt", and then they still get their way. You're training your child that warnings in life don't apply to them.
Export Level: "High Voltage" signs excluded your child.

- The "emotional rage" parent.

These are also pretty common (at least when I was growing up it was common). The child (remember, they're all hellions) goes off and does something sassy or stupid that really pisses you off. Then, in the whirlwind of rage you fly off the broom handle you rode in on and unleash the fury of pent-up aggression from all aspects of life through a wooden spoon or a belt or the hand soap in the bathroom.
Export Level: Screaming and anger no longer faze your child.

Obviously this is satirical...

... but I'm sure we've all crossed the borders of some of these here and there.

I have this feeling, though, that the general thought of discipline and punishment is becoming more of a taboo and I can't help but feel a little sad about that. Why WOULDN'T you punish your child? To not punish your child for their stupid and out of line actions only exacerbates the pussification of America. I don't know if you've noticed but we've become some pretty hard-core sissies lately.

Humans are stubborn to learn and quick to forget.

Think about the times in your life when your outlooks and views and actions throughout life really changed. During that period of change, was it emotionally easy? No, probably not. The emotionally and psychological turmoil was, no doubt, the reason for the change. But kids to don't the "hard-knock" life, as they say. They don't have bill collectors knocking down their door, or the lawman watching their every move. They don't have great responsibility to get food on the plate and shelter over the head. They pretty much play, eat, sleep, and poop... and if you're lucky to have an older kid - go to school.

That is what discipline is for... to, in a small way, create emotional and psychological turmoil in their own heads so that they don't do that dumbass thing anymore. But you have to understand that the turmoil is not going to be something you create, it has to be created in their head so that it burns an image onto their memory. As a parent, what you have to do is create a situation in which that turmoil gets conjured by them.

It's age specific too. Any kind of punishment or discipline for a 6 month old is a waste... they don't have the mental capacity to understand any sort of reasoning behind your actions. A full on spanking for a 1.5 year old is pretty worthless because they don't have the mental capacity to understand what the meaning behind the swat is. They can't create the turmoil from the action - all they create from that is fear. But a timeout - a removal of what they want to do - that creates turmoil. Spankings for a 3 year old actually mean something, because they "get it" and why you're doing it.

But it's not easy...

I recently gave my 1.5 year old a timeout. And she cried a mournful little wail from the timeout step that she was sitting on. Not only had I removed her from the situation she was in (I believe it was pulling all the DVDs off the shelf to create a little musical tap dance stage), but, to her, I had also abandoned her as I was walking away.

I hate that cry. I hate it because I know I'm the one who created the situation for her to feel smitten. But I'll never stop disciplining her for the things she shouldn't do. I would be doing her a disservice and ultimately taking away the opportunity for her to be a better person as she grows up.

Look at me writing like I actually know what I'm talking about. Maybe someone needs to spank me... anyone?... anyone? I need spankings!

One shot should do.

2009-12-09T23:01:00.005-06:00

I don't drink to get drunk (usually). I usually drink with a purpose other then that. Using it as a muscle relaxant or to mush my mind a little bit so that I don't focus on all the crappy stressful things that have happened at work (or home, who knows).

Does any one just drink alcohol because it's a beverage? Why not just drink juice or milk instead.

Someday, when Niamonster is old enough to understand, I think I'll sit down with her and mention that sometimes the reason daddy has a beer IS BECAUSE OF YOU!

Did I hear a nomination for the "World's Worst Dad" award in back? Oh, no... that was DCFS.

Yeah, yeah. Don't play me out like I'm the bad guy. I'm just saying what we all do. Whether you like your beers or your fru frus, I bet if you have kids you've tossed at least one swig down the gullet to erase the painful ringing in your ear from the crying or whining.

Cheers... here's to you!

Winter is upon us up here in Wisconsin. I have no reason to complain about it. These United States allow me the opportunity to roam among the 50 where I please without care of visas or passports. It's my own dumb butt that has stayed planted here.

So instead of complaining... I say... bring it!

I'm installing Windows XP on a VPC and I just saw the "When you insert a floppy, ZIP Disk..." Ha! Awesome.

In computer land, the floppy will be to Niamonster what the 8Track was to me, and the ZIPDisk will be like what the BETA video format was. What's a type writer?

Christ's sake. I have to stop there. I really am getting old, aren't I?

2 weeks until Christmas. Think that's on my mind at all?

It's not.

I'm going to slowly start blogging here again. I've missed it. I've missed the release and forcing me to be creative. I miss people reading my blog and commenting.

I do still read all of yours.... On my phone.... On the pooper.

You're welcome for that.

Not All Posts Have to Be Long

2009-08-18T15:02:00.004-05:00

Pffffffft. You call those Jazz Hands?

I'm really just passing time right now while I get over the fact that what I've been working on is still "in discussion".

Ah, the life of a software developer. Expected to go forth and produce the most amazing piece of software to the exact needs for all clients and managers everywhere and to meet and exceed all expectations.

Oh... and get it done before the due date and make sure it contains all of the specifications. You know, those specifications THAT HAVEN'T EVEN BEEN DECIDED ON YET!

Oh yeah. It's that awesome.

Beep Beep Beep Beep

I've been pondering a "plan B" lately. You know, the "if I wasn't doing this, what would I want to do?" question that we all ask ourselves. I'm a software engineer and I really do love computers and knowing the ins and outs of software development, but really... sometimes the stress is just way more then it should be.

I realize that a lot of this stress is self induced while I try to maintain a day job and start up my own business and making sure that I'm a good family man. So would plan B even offer any relief?

Ponder. Ponder. Ponder.

Day Care

Isabella has 99% decided that she is going to head back into the work force. I can tell she's being super strong about the change, but being her husband I know that internally she's conflicted with the goods and the bads. Just because the "goods" may outweigh the "bads" doesn't make the bads any easier to handle.

I'm proud of her decision - and I told her that the decision was all hers. It's not like we need it financially, but I can also tell that she's starting to get a little stir crazy and wanting to feel more apart of the financial success of this family - as well as furthering her knowledge and expertise in a field that she enjoys. Sewing can only offer so much "success" feeling. There is something to be said about working for a company where you are treated in a way that let's you know you are contributing to the success of the organization.

I think she misses that. I'm glad and proud that she's doing what she thinks is best for her.

This... however... has introduced us to the world of day care. Since "B", our best friend, godmother, nanny - watched Niamonster when Isabella worked part time at the beginning, and then Isabella being a stay at home mom - we've never had to look around for day care options. But we feel that Niamonster is old enough to start hanging out on her own (well... supervised but not by us) and expanding her social skills without mommy and daddy to always cling to.

We'll see how this goes.

Sucker!

I am pretty excited that this means that Niamonster will be all mine in the morning. Sure, it's great having Isabella around all the time, but having her as a SAHM means that daddy doesn't get much one on one time. With this new situation I'll be getting up with the kiddo, dressing her for the day, driving her to and picking her up from the day care. Hearing all the stories about how good (or bad) she was and what they did during the day.

Oh yeah. So awesome.

I will for sure keep all posted on how things are going with the day care/work/dad is awesome things in life.

Day Care Yay! / or / Day Care Nay.

I Really Freaking Like...

2009-08-01T22:52:00.008-05:00

This post is inspired by some homemade french fries that I made tonight which made my mouth do a happy dance.

I thought pick a few things which I really really like...

Starting with:

I really like my family. There are so many times when we are hanging out and laughing where I almost go into a third person mode and think to myself, "wow... I have the coolest family in the world". It's still really weird to say "family" and associate it with my wife, my child, and myself - instead of thinking of "family" with me as a child. (I have so many more things to write on this subject, but now is not the time.)

I really like Fresh Prince of Bel-Aire. To this day I'll still flip it on and laugh my butt off. There is just something about a young Will Smith cracking off the one liners within the confines of a campy sitcom.

I really like complex nerdy problems which revolve around networking issues or programming and then solving them and throwing my hands high up into the air and yelping "I'm a Genius!". Although, sometimes I get really crabby when the problem draws itself out.

I really like music. All kinds of music. I'll try anything and am of the belief that you can find a music for every situation. This leads me to also loving to create music (though it's been a real dry spell lately). Music invigorates me, drives me, and LOVES to get stuck in my head.

I really like hanging out on porches with friends and doing nothing but talking. This is often times made better with a beer or with tea. I'm really simple when it comes to entertainment and conversation and friends is complete rapture for me.

I really like bumpits. ....

Yeah - ok, that's a lie. I'm sure I'd have this indescribable feeling to rip it out of someones hair if I ever came across one.

I really like Red Robin's Bacon Avocado burger. Isabella and I have discovered our new Red Robin and have come to realize that the food there is way better and the prices way cheaper then the Applebees where we used to go. Ever since ordering the bacon Avocado burger I just can't bring myself to order anything else.

I really like fried food. I know it's not good for you and it would make any health conscious person cringe, but the taste... it's sooooo goood.

Top 3 Things You Really Like.

Ready.

Go.

Meaningful Monday - A Night with ShankRabbit

2009-07-27T23:29:00.008-05:00

Greetings everyone. It has been a time since my eyes have last gazed upon the tan and blue theme of this blogging system spewing forth words of intended wisdom that more then likely fail into humorous tid bits which, if we were in second grade, you could use against me in a silly little chant as you picked me last for the kickball team.

(ooh... that brought back bad memories)

I have my little snifter of brandy (actually it's rum, but saying a snifter of rum sounds like I'm a cheap, Dale lovin', dogs under the porch kind of..... oh... wait... I am.)... I have my little styrofoam cup of rum, sitting in the new location of my office, and feeling the need to let words dribble from my mind onto the keyboard in front of me.

Join me, will you, as you meld your mind with mine for a briefest of moments through these words.

I haven't been myself lately, and if you're any sort of once a month reader of this blog, you already know that when I'm not "myself" I usually shy away from mediums which allow me to express myself.

Most of the times it's not even that I need to ignore this blog, it's just that I don't know how to elaborate on the thoughts in my head since they're all so relatively new to me.

I can't really apologize for not writing more often as of late, because really I think it would be better that you say, "Where is ShankRabbit" instead of, "Ugh... Shut up!" Believe me, I'm an extremes kind of guy. It's one or the other... (think they call that bi-polar).

(I'm not really.)

So, in the awkward tone that usually presents itself when you meet up with someone you haven't seen in a while, allow me to ask the question I'm sure many of you would ask...

"What's new?"

New Locations for Everything

Most recent, my beautiful wife, Isabella (oh totally check out her blog), decided that we wanted to move a couch (futon to be exact) to a different location in the house. Well... what the heck... if we're going to move a couch, why not rearrange the whole dang house.

So... Niamonster's room is now upstairs in what once was the TV room, the TV room has been moved downstairs and has merged with the Living Room, the dining room is no more and is now a sitting area, our office room is now Isabella's work room (sewing and computer), and Niamonster's room is now my office / studio.

Stressful Job

This is a big reason that I haven't been blogging much. I actually, for the first time in my life, found someone that I struggle to get along with.

I've been called a chameleon before, someone who blends in with his surroundings to get along with people. Some people call it fake, I call it meeting people where they are. Chances are it's going to be harder to get someone to meet you where you are at, so it's best just to meet them on their turf instead.

I have nerdy friends, I have artsy friends, I have friends who go and get drunk every weekend, I have older friends with 3 grown children, and I have younger friends who haven't even graduated college yet.

But there is this guy who I am forced to work with now, who is seriously impossible to get along with. And whether it's because we work in two different offices, or whether I'm threatening to him, I just can't get myself to meet him at his level.

Probably because it seems his level is always changing. Oiy.

Budding Job

Pixel 73 is apparently taking off. We landed out first bigger contract not too long ago and I've been hauling butt to get things done. This is good news and bad news. Good news that the company that I want to someday take into a full time business is taking off, bad news because it requires lots of time.

Isabella and I have it worked out pretty well, although some nights, where I have to go to a client meeting, I can we working for 14-18 hours. Oooh wee that can be fun.

Drama Queen

We knew she would get there. We feared the day that her personalization of my genetic disposition would start showing itself through physical interaction.

Niamonster is becoming Miss Drama. If you've been through this stage then you know. The limit testing, the whining, the indecision of whether you want me there or not, the whining, the... whining...

did I mention the whining?

We're also reaching the age where she understands, on a very high level, the difference between right and wrong. With that knowledge comes the need for some stern talking tos if she's being sassy.

I don't like giving stern talking tos. I'm probably really not going to like full on discipline when she gets older even more.

So... that's what I've been up to lately. I'm going to try to get back on the good foot and obtain my regular posting schedule again.

I'll be honest... I did miss you.

Meaningful Monday - Relaxed

2009-06-29T15:40:00.006-05:00

I never really realized how much stress and pressure I store in my upper shoulders. Don't get me wrong, I always knew it was there just not to the extent of which was presented to me this past Saturday.

This is the story of my first professional massage.

My wife has always wanted me to go in for a professional massage. I think it has a lot to do with the fact that I ask her all the time for back rubs, but due to her weak wrists and dislocated, goofy-assed, double jointed thumbs - the amount of pressure she puts on my muscles is akin to a house fly inadvertently changing its course into my shoulder blade. (ok, that was a stretch, but overexaggeration to prove a point)

She finally found a really good deal where it was 50% off at a ritzy little Spa in downtown Milwaukee, and immediately called one if for me.

Well, given that it was my first massage I started pondering all the cliche things that could or should happen at a massage from what I've:

Seen on TV.
Read in articles
Heard from my sister-in-law (a professional massage therapist)

The Biggest Fear

Ladies, not all men are giant pigs. I tend to think I'm one of the kind that isn't a pig. Thus, my first and ultimate fear was the dreaded boner.

Yeah. Lying naked on a warm table with someone rubbing oil all over you while massaging your muscles... you can see how the fear would arise. It started bringing back fears of high-school where the bell would ring and I'd be sporting the semi. But at least in high-school you have the good old binder over the crotch trick to fix that, at a massage you have nothing but a flimsy little sheet. Hell, even jeans in high school helped.

Then, what if she's attractive... or worse... hot?! Then what?!

"Oh no oh no... maybe this massage thing is a bad idea."

No. No... I was being irrational. I'll be fine.

The Day Arrives.

So I get there and first of all can't find the front desk... so I wander until this gentle looking lady finds me. She looks like a massage therapist and is talking to me like she's been expecting me. I think to myself, well if my assumptions are correct you will be my massage therapist and I am in no way attracted to you.

We walk to the hidden front desk together and I check in. We walk back downstairs and she hands me a clipboard with waivers and information which I need to fill out.

After she hands it to me she says, "Enjoy your time with us. Nikki should be right with you."

... um... shit... you apparently aren't going to be my therapist.

"Ok... ok... it's cool... you won't find Nikki hot either... just fill out the info. Name - oh... this one is easy... Address - cool, another easy one..."

A new voice speaks, "Hi, Ben? I'm Nikki"

OH COME THE "F" ON, REALLY?!!! REALLY CRUEL WORLD?!

Yup. She's hot. Ok... to be fair... she's way cute but not as cute as my wife. And I'm really not just saying that to cover my ass. Isabella saw her and agreed. (We kinda have that open relationship, talk about everything, sort of marriage.) But still, ugly therapist is easier then hot therapist for ANYONE, not just guys... (cough cough) ladies.

So we walk back to my "personal suite", she shows me the shower area. Ooooh. Kohler insane, blast you from all angles, 1 million gallons/second, kind of shower. I'll be sure to enjoy that after the massage.

She says, "I'll step out for a second and you can undress to whatever level you're comfortable with." then appends, "naked is perfectly okay." (oh gee thanks for adding that cause I didn't know.)

Whatever, buck or go home. So buck I went and slid under the sheets. Then... massage time. I'd say it took about 1.32 seconds and there was no possible way I had any reason to worry about my winky going camping in the bay. Hiking perhaps, but no tents would be pitched. It was just too dang relaxing to even be worried about, what now seems like, such a trivial matter.

She did ask when the last time I had a massage... being... never. To which she responded, "I can tell, you're so tense. I don't know how you survive like this you poor thing." Yeah - lets not read into that. (Though I wouldn't be a guy if I didn't.)

60 minutes and a whole lot of deep tissue massage and time was up.

Steam vegetables anyone? Perhaps a steamed ShankRabbit?

I enter the bathroom and turn on the shower. Yes, it really is water from all angles and it is hella-nice. I'm standing and enjoying the complete drowning in water, when I notice a little silver panel on the wall. A little digital readout that was off... and three silver buttons... one bigger one and two smaller ones.

You know the red button syndrome that some people have. The one where even though the button is big, giant, and red, and says "Do not push"... you push it anyway? Oh yeah, that's me.

There were no labels and I HAD to know what it did. So i pushed the big button. The digital display sprang to life and start flashing numbers from 19 to 109 and bouncing all around in between.

But nothing happened. "Hrm. Hope that wasn't the self-destruct. That'd be embarrassing." Which of course Phineas and Ferb quotes pop into my head with "In hindsight, I question the logistics of including a self-destruct button in the first place."

I walk back under the torrential downpour of water when, 5 seconds later, I hear this insane hissy whoooshy noise from the site of the wall. Oooooh... little silver boxy = sauna.

Sweet!

Well... it was sweet until it started getting a little too steamy. And too hot. And the little silver boxy thing no longer responded to touching. Those little red numbers changing in no discernible pattern... oooh annoying. I liken the experience to trying to see through glasses when they're all fogged up... only - my glasses were off my head and on the counter.

"I hope that thing turns off."

It eventually did... AFTER I was out of the shower and pruned up like a... well... a prune, I guess.

Up and Out.

Upon leaving my "personal suite", I walked back upstairs with Nikki... you remember Nikki... that hot massage therapist... so that I could pay.

Remember the 50% off? Me thinky there was a computer error. Cause what I paid for was NOT 50% off.

But I didn't care. I paid it. I left. It was money very well spent.

Isabella's first comment was, "wow... you look like you were just sleeping for 5 weeks straight.

Mmmm... definitely need to go back.

does anyone else laugh at the word therapist? because it looks like the rapist. Nikki, professional the rapist? yes please.

This would be an interesting movie...

2009-06-25T12:59:00.003-05:00

Braveheart, Film Score

by: Horner, James

on: Star Trek: The Wrath of Kahn

Album Cover: Titanic

What if, Pandora... what if?

Meaningful Monday - My head is swimming.

2009-06-22T23:05:00.004-05:00

so cliche

I'm starting this post on Monday so it still counts, even though I'll probably finish it after midnight. I think the starting of it counts.

Planning.

Life is a bitch. You hear it all the time and yet no one really takes it to heart until the events in life happen to take a stroll past your house at 3am and start throwing eggs and toilet paper in a trivial and juvenile action that, in the end, doesn't really hurt your life - it just messes it up for a small time.

No, don't worry, that was purely a metaphor.

I'm writing this post standing in my basement on my workbench as half of my servers are cracked open and awaiting the installation of their new operating systems, servers, and development systems. Why am I standing down here at 11pm while everyone else is asleep?

Because, as a business, we just landed our first large contract and have been told multiple times that, "if this goes well, we'll be coming back to you again and again." Needless to say they really like our style, but of course words only mean so much in the business world and they are using this first project as a proof of everything I've been talking about.

It's a little nerve wracking.

I'm also in an interesting situation because my 5 year plan had always been to take Pixel 73 LLC to the point where I didn't have to go into work anymore. Where I could just stay home, run my business happily, code what I want to code, and do things my way in the business world. No more answering to the higher ups because I would be my own.

Shazzam - how about this thought wrench.

Of course, on top of the clients I already have, I get this client who also drops another potential project in my lap and basically says, "if we get this, we'll need you full time."

Whoa... wait a sec... that's not five years from now. That's 5 months from now. What the...

See? It's not destroying my life, it's the just wet soggy toilet paper hanging from the limbs of my lifestyle trees.

So I ponder.

I'm playing out all of the thoughts in my head. Wanting to be comfortable financially, but still wanting to pursue my dream. And of course, until contracts are signed, this is all just mind-slobber.

Love to hate to love

I have such a love/hate relationship with tough decisions. I hate them because I wish someone would show me 5 years in the future based on each decision. I love them because making the tough decisions makes me a better person... a better dad... a better husband.

Oh life... you traitorous whore, you.

Fatherhood Friday - She wins.

2009-06-19T15:44:00.004-05:00

What's happenin' blog readers? How was your week? Mmhm? Yeah? Good.

I think today is a special Friday because it's the Fatherhood Friday before Father's Day. The day that is all about me.

Wait. What's this crap? You don't know what Fatherhood Friday is? BEHOLD! Check out Dad-Blogs. Neat dudes doing dude stuff and writing about it. (Girls are totally allowed too).

She Was Right

I hate being wrong. Hate it more then hate itself. However, I've noticed that with less sleep, more work, and more responsibility my cache isn't as big as it used to be. Because of this I've noticed that I tend to be wrong a lot more then I used to. It's a small price to pay for mental efficiency in a mentally hazardous environment.

Well, I have to give Isabella some big props because she pretty much made me go to the doctor yesterday... and... wouldn't you know it - I have bronchitis.

Apparently it's bronchitis season. (Like flu season, or deer season... only for shit in my lungs.) And this year has been a fun one with the doctor saying how this kind tends to come back. Well, wouldn't you know that earlier this year I had the exact same symptoms as I did this time.

So I guess my bronchitis came back for round two. Only this time I'm going to take it down to China-town with some Azithromycin. 5 days of hard core bacteria killing...

... and 5 days of the Hershey-squirts.

Damn you side effects.

I need a vacation. I need to unplug from the constant blast of coding that happens to flow from my fingers every day and every night. It's my own fault for having the aspiration of owning my own business and living completely and comfortably from that business someday - so that requires a lot of time spent at the computer at night.

This also leads to some pretty late nights since I don't want to be working when I'm at home and Niamonster is awake. So (obviously coming full circle here), you can see why I've been getting sick more.

I beat myself up, but it's already starting to pay off. Lots of big things in the works and just started a new deal with a new company that will finally boost us to where we need to be.

To all my dads out there - Happy Father's Day on Sunday.

.....

......... huh... just kinda seems like a really abrupt end to my post... no closure really... just - "goodbye".

... kinda akward, huh.

...so...

kthxbai!

Wacky Wednesday - Healthy Living (cough cough)

2009-06-16T23:45:00.007-05:00

I'm done.

I'm done with being sick more then I should be. I can't decide if it's the child or if it's the job or if it's the fact that I had pneumonia once. I try eating healthy and exercises and I still get sick WAY more then I used to.

It's annoying and it's ALWAYS respiratory.

Bastard little green phlegmballs.

Isabella and I started a financial planning class tonight. 13 weeks of instruction to get our asses in gear for making sure Niamonster (and perhaps some future children) are set when growing up.

Believe me, we'll instill in them the virtues of making a living for themselves, but I also don't think you can expect a teenager to be able to pay thousands of dollars for college when they can't even keep money in their checking account.

I'm sure you'll hear more about this in the future with both of our blogs.

I asked my wife last night if I needed tickets to the gun show. She was trying to flex for me. It'd be even funnier for you if you knew how scrawny she was.

Finally -

Interesting stuff going on in Teh... uh... you know that one place that just had elections. (Don't want some crazy ass coming over to my blog and censoring me... or.. whatever they're doing.)

I guess I never really understood riots and destroying things to make a point. I mean... you're not really making much of a point at all.

What goes through your head?

"This election was rigged! Quick! Everyone throw bricks through the windows of local stores!"

Cause... that's going to accomplish a lot. Irony sure would set in if the store owner was two blocks down throwing bricks into someone else's window.

I'd hate to be a police-person in that state. Get up in the morning knowing you're going to have to get crap thrown at you all day. I mean - I don't agree with what's going on over there at all, but you have to be somewhat sympathetic to the police officers. Could you imagine waking up in the morning knowing full well that you were probably going to get rocks and bricks thrown at you while people try to rip you off your bike so they can burn it. Just because your jacket says "Police".

I don't think violence is the answer, but if someone threw a brick at me, you bet your ass I'd crack them in the head with a billy club.

Just sayin'...

Hope your Wednesday is full of happy, billy club-free moments!

Fatherhood Friday - Hello End of the Week... so soon?

2009-06-12T00:00:00.001-05:00

Hi Kids.

Welcome to another edition of Fatherhood Friday.

So it's official. As of Monday of this week at 12:14pm I am officially MINI free. Eh - it's kinda sad, but that sadness faded pretty dang quick when I saw how many 0's I had to write down on my deposit slip.

oooh... that's nice.

So we've started paying off credit cards and other stupid bills that we've had (oh... the bills). We're a one car family now and the more I think about it, the more it makes perfect sense. Things would be a whole lot different if Isabella had a daytime job (not that being a stay at home mom isn't a job), but she can take me to work every morning and it gives us a good chance to just talk for 15 minutes.

So many times you find yourself focusing on your child's needs and playing with her (or him) that you just forget to sit and talk.

Fatherhood = selling stuff and spending quality time together.

My wife and I watch some odd TV sometimes and one of the odd little shows we came across was Tori and Dean... if you haven't watched this show: do it.

It's Tori Spelling and Dean McDermott, and you know something? Yeah... they're actors but they're such normal people. What's more is that Isabella and I are very VERY like them. If you ever are curious as to what our household is like - watch this show.

I could talk about it and describe it, but you should just go watch it. It's on Oxygen.

Fatherhood = knowing that all dads go through the same stuff.

I'm not sure who came up with the phrase "Terrible 2's" but they're full of shit. It starts way before the age of 2.

Oh yeah - Niamonster has started throwing cute little temper tantrums and while I'm sure it'll be cute for the next couple of weeks, I'm pretty sure I'm going to start flipping my crab about it.

She's has this little thing where she'll just walk over to the rug on our kitchen floor in this sick little whiney fashion and just fall to the floor whenever she doesn't get what she wants.

Neat. Can't wait till it gets worse.

Fatherhood = patience.

Speaking of selling the MINI, one of the biggest things for Isabella and I that always bothered us was that we never had enough money to give lots to charity. My dad works for a company that deals with people who are severly developmentally disabled (an amazing organization: Bethesda Lutheran Home and Services), Isabella and I have a huge heart for Maryville Academy since Isabella stayed there for a while given certain things happening in her life.... plus there are other churches and little charities we just want to give to.

Well... now that we have a little more padding in our bank it's been really nice to have that available.

So - today some fellow online friends made mention of another blogger who has fallen on some series of unfortunate events. Well, the friends got together and collaborated a little fund to help the family out in their time of need.

Yes! Our first "random" charity. Yay!

Fatherhood = Charity and giving selflessly.

Finally, and the biggest part of being a father -

I had to go play business tonight and head out with some SVP/VP type people and schmooze. However, that meant coming home late and Niamonster was already asleep.

I walked into her room to just see my little girl... and she must have known it was me because she propped her little head up... looked into my eyes... gave me the cutest little tired smile... and layed back down.

Uuuuuuh.... I think my heart just melted....

It's a quick post in the neighborhood.

2009-06-05T16:18:00.003-05:00

My wife is on her way to picking me up. I realize it's early but my head hurts and today is going to be the only nice day this weekend.

It's a quick Fatherhood Friday.

WHAT? You don't know what Fatherhood Friday is?! The get your butt over to Dad-Blogs and check it out.

Fatherhood is:

Leaving work early to spend time with your family.
Sneaking into your child's room at night to stand over their crib and watch them sleep.
Calling out "Dance" and immediately dropping everything to shake your booty.
Crying when you inadvertently injure your child.
Cuddling up to your wife when she needs you.
Staying up late to finish work after everyone else goes to bed.
Be willing to give up everything for your family.
Love them more then yourself.

Those are some of the things fatherhood is to me.

What about you?

Wackey Wedhursday - What?

2009-06-04T11:26:00.006-05:00

Happy Wedhursday

Why? Why Wedhursday? Because I started writing this post yesterday and am finishing it today... that's why. So to my online posting persona I am actually transcending the space time continuum and spanning my existence over a time frame which includes both Wednesday and Thursday.

And you thought you were just reading a weirdo's blog.

Straight up now tell me do you really wanna love me forever (oh oh oh)

Now that you have that song stuck in your head... Let's continue and talk about something gross.

Girl

Nope. Not my daughter. Not some random female. But... that. Call it whatever you want... Aunt Flo, Periodicals, Girl... all the same thing. Well, with the onslaught of Niamonster, Isabella hasn't had to deal with it in the first person, and I haven't had to deal with it in the third person in a very long time.

Isabella got preggo sometime in July of 07. From July of 07 until March of 09 we really hadn't had to deal with it.

Well... she's back. Can't say I really missed her.

Though, for all you guys out there... dealing with the hormonal crazies from pregnancy gives a whole new "gentler" light on the girly-crazies. They just don't seem so crazy anymore.

New Domain!

Being the dork that I am, I have an entire business class network setup in our house. Domain controllers, DNS servers, routers, switches, etc. You'd think I ran a small business out of my home or something.

Well, with the glorious purchase of 2 new dual 2.6ghz Xeon servers I decided it was time to re-setup the domain since I kinda botched the first one. (Single name domains aren't very friendly)

So I stayed up till 2am last night switching things over from my old server to the new ones, and by the time I went to bed I had gotten rid of the B**** domain (starred cause it's my last name... and let's be honest you know I don't write real names here) and started up the tarkus.shankrabbit.com domain. Tarkus meaning "wisdom" in Estonian.

Why Estonian?

Because I'm weird, that's why.

My daughter has taken a liking to dirt. Isabella already wrote about it so you should head over there and read up somes.

This weekend can't come soon enough. I'm bushed.

Finally, I know I haven't mentioned it much - but Busy-Dad-E, I should be finishing up the song this weekend. You know... the song you won... so long ago.

I haven't forgotten.

I never do.

In like Flynn

2009-06-01T00:00:00.001-05:00

Hi Everybody!

Miss me?

Dogs.

I used to be a dog lover. When Isabella and I started get serious she had a wonderful dog named Aria. She was a beautiful Great Dane, German Shepherd mix. Oh yeah... big doggy. I became very fond of this dog while Isabella and I were dating. ( I almost wrote, "while we were dating" except that sounded like Ari and I were dating...) Ari became very fond of me as well.

Well... Isabella and I were still finding ourselves and becoming little professionals and were about to get married. Our lifestyle just didn't support having a big giant dog. Especially a dog that needed big open spaces and all we could afford her was a small apartment. We loved her so much that we realized we had to do what was best for her, so we put her up for adoption.

One. of the. Hardest. Days. Ever.

There are still days I miss Ari. I know my missing Ari will never come to that of Jen's.

However, that's not the point of this section. The real point is: We just aren't a dog family anymore.

My brother (the middle one, not the one with the blog... he's the eldest... I'm the baby.), married a woman from the Czech Republic. (no... not Czechoslovakia... that's long gone and you'll piss off any Czech native if you say that... trust me, I've had a bruised arm from it). Her brother got married last week and they went to her home to be with him for it.

They have two dogs, Dante and Capri. Both English Cocker-Spaniels. You can imagine what it would cost to kennel 2 dogs for 8 days. ~$25 a day x 2 dogs x 8 days and you've got about $400. Well, given the times with the economy and the availability of us, they asked if we could dog sit for those days instead.

Sure. Why not?

I like dogs, right?

It's been interesting. I feel bad cause my voice has been raised a few more times then I would have liked it. I don't yell, but it is louder. And I feel terrible because Niamonster is so not used to hearing my louder stern voice unless she is doing something drunken monkey like. It's also been interesting because the dogs pee more the Niamonster does, which means getting up at 4am again.

Then there are the hardwood floors and the barking while Niamonster is trying to sleep.

I wish we would have had a video tape running the other night. Jen and I were eating upstairs and Niamonster was acting like a complete numbnuts and crawling all over everything. So the dogs are trying to snatch food away from us, Niamonster is crawling behind the couch, then knocking lamps over, then the dogs are chasing her, Isabella and I were trying to get a hold of everyone with bar-b-que sauce dripping down our hands.... oiy... it was a mess.

It's been fun being able to help my brother and sister out and fun watching the dogs... but man... we just aren't dog people anymore.

I can't begin to tell you how many times I wrote "dong" while writing this. Heh... dong watching.

Fatherhood Friday - Parents are helpless.

2009-05-22T11:26:00.003-05:00

Happy Fatherhood Friday all my fellow dads and mom. Let us raise our hands in the air and let the world smell our pits because we all know we shower less now that we have kids.

What's that? You don't know what Fatherhood Friday is all about? Then head your butt over to Dad-Blogs and check it out. (Girls are allowed in this fort.)

You. As a Parent. Are helpless.

And I think it's why we panic so much about our children. Apparently panic is an appropriate replacement for not being able to control our little beings. Try as we might to be the "cool and laid back" parents that you see in the movies, every little step in the wrong direction, or bonk on the heads leaves our little hearts to go, "OHAGHNODON'TGETHURT!".

It's the heart strings that are fused to that little miniature flesh-bag. No matter what goes on in life you never want them to feel pain, never want them to struggle, never want them to fail. But of course the only way to learn and get better at something IS by failing.

Some people take it way too far.

You know those people - the "build a fence around my kid" kind of parents. They're usually really judgemental too. Niamonster was toddling around Target the other day. She slipped and landed on her butt, let out a little cry of frustration, and got back up. I looked up and saw a lady glaring at me like, "how could you let your child fall?".

Really lady? Really? Pecker off.

I can only imagine it gets worse.

Niamonster is only 1 right now so what do I have to worry about? Her falling on her butt... bonking the enormously large bobbly head into things... falling down stairs... etc.

But what about when she's a teenager? Creepy guys on the internet? Creepy guys on the streets? Stupid boyfriends trying to smooze her pants off? Broken hearts? Good grades? Personal image?

Oiy... I'm worried about how much I'm going to worry.

How do I relax?

Well... my faith helps. Raising her to make smart decisions will help. I want to be able to trust her 100% as she grows up. That's easier said then done because I'm not going to be with her all the time as she gets older. Where do I draw the line between trust and smart parenting? Can you full trust a 14 year old?

For now... she can bump.

I'll let her fall. I'll let her bump her fat little melon. When she gets older will I still allow her to get bumps and bruises so she can grow and learn?

Is it just me or is parenthood just filled with hypothetical questions that can't be answered until the situation happens?

(jesus being a parent is so damn fun)

Introducing BabyK

2009-05-21T10:04:00.004-05:00

This is a special Thursday post.

I'd like you all to meet:

BabyK

Born May19th.

7lbs. 4oz.

22in long.

Is a perfect mash of her dad and mom.

That bink-bink is normal size. She's that small.

Isabella holding BabyK

That is all.

Wacky Wednesday (Insert Number Here) - Babies, Phones, and Poopy Butts

2009-05-20T11:30:00.005-05:00

It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood, a beautiful day in the neighborhood... won't you be mine?

Chicken In Pants.

Think that's actually a title to something I'm going write here? You're wrong. Simply... Chickenpants.

Guess who had their baby!

BabyK is officially here and healthy. After around 36 hours of labory stuff that women do when having babies, our bestest friends are now our bestest family. Born yesterday at 10:30ish PM, 7lbs 4oz, 22in long. Isabella and I are headed over there to lay eyes on their beautiful daughter.

Poopy Butts

My daughter loves to potty on the toilet. Yes, we realize she's only one, but she derives such enjoyment from sitting on the big people's potty and dropper her load off in there as opposed to her diaper. Because seriously, who would want to walk around with pants full of poopies?

Not me.

So the first thing you have to think about is the awkwardness that comes from encouraging your child while she's taking a deuce. Isabella and I are very open about our human bodies, but one thing we have always taken as "personal time" is pooping. Doors closed, no one is allowed in, don't talk to me until I'm out. Being in the bathroom when someone is pooping is weird... even in public settings.

However, this paradigm hits a wall when it comes to Niamonster because I'm not just going to leave her sit there by herself. She'd fall in and probably start playing around. (gross). While we're holding her there, Isabella and I usually look around elsewhere to give Niamonster some sort of privacy while she does her deed.

Still pretty awkward though.

The setup is usually that Isabella is the holder while I walk in and out offering words of encouragement. The other day I was tasked to do the holding and realized that I had never done it before. This all hit me like a truck when it was time to wipe her little booty while sitting in front of her.

Hrm. How does one do this without getting poop everywhere?

I'm not sure how "one" would do it... or how I would do it for that matter - because I got poop everywhere.

I'm such a nard.

New Phone!

Isabella and I have been with Verizon for... um... 6?5?7? ... well a long time. Anyway, they always call when our contract is up to encourage us to get new phones. So... with the current deals circulating around we decided to finally bite and ditch our old flippy small screened phones for the newest, hottest, and not Apple owned smart phone. (I'll write someday about my aversion to Apple products. If their products were at least half as good as their fanboys proclaim them as, I'd be all over them.)

BAM! The new BlackBerry 9530 - also known as the Storm.

Now, one thing I have learned is that Verizon is very... hrm... "selective" about what operating system they will support on their phones. For that reason, if you do get a BlackBerry from Verizon you'll be running an OS that is about 4 releases old.

The OS that our Storms came with was painfully slow. (Which you'll read all about if you've ever read a review on this phone.) That's ridiculous, I told myself, that I should run an older OS when there are much faster and better OSes out there.

Thank God for CrackBerry.com

Both Isabella and I are running BETA/Hybrid versions of the OS and the difference is night and day. The phone itself is really powerful, why not have a decently designed OS to go with it?

Tough to work when you just want to be home.

Meaningful Monday - It's a great day for a baby!

2009-05-18T16:20:00.008-05:00

(credit)

I'm really starting to hate how fast time really flies lately. I know that is a cliche statement and I know that everyone who has a kid says it... but there is also scientific research that shows that as you get older your brain trains itself to manage time differently. Thus, time flies, because our old ass brains don't want to deal with the day to day crap anymore.

Remember being young and an hour felt like forever?

Life. They're about to have it.

Isabella and I have these two people in our lives who we are uncomfortable classifying as "best friends". That's kind of an insult to the way we feel towards each other. They're more like an extension to our family. For the fun of this blog (and since no one has a real name here) we'll call them Aunty B and Uncle White Brows. Yes... they truly are an aunt and uncle (as well as the god-parents) to Niamonster. I can't even begin to tell you how lucky Niamonster is to have them in her life.

Well... almost 9 some months ago, Aunty B and Uncle WB came over and, after taking 6 pregnancy tests (accuracy through large sample size... and no... I'm not kidding it was 6 in one night), told us they were going to have a little cousin for Niamonster.

I can't even begin to tell you the emotions felt that night. As a guy it's one of those times where if you were alone you would have... uh... gotten a spec of dust in your eye.

BAM

9 months later. They're in the hospital and, comparing to the past months, are moment away from being new parents.

Just like that... I'm going to have a little "niece". Baby M. (or Baby K depending if you shorten it or not).

I can't wait to see her grow up and to see and learn various parenting techniques (cause God knows I'm not the greatest at it)... share stories about babies... having Niamonster and BabyK play around together... have BabyK teach Niamonster how to surf, and to chillax, and throw up the octave on both hands, and to not be such a priss. I'm excited for Niamonster to show BabyK the appropriate way to write lists....... (such a legacy I'll leave).

Now... if we could just get her to come out.

What the heck is up with my posting schedule?

2009-05-14T11:29:00.005-05:00

This week... it has been crazy and overwhelming. My apologies for the crazy post schedule especially if you've become very used to my MWF schedule. Next week I'll get things back on track.

In the mean time I'll quick throw this up.

If you comment Anonymously, you deserve to be talked to in a snarky and sarcastic tone.

Yup, that's right. And it's exactly why I don't allow anonymous comments on my blog, because I only like being a little bitch on rare occasions and usually on someone else's blog. (I should say I just delete Anonymous posts, unless they're signed with a name.)

In steps Anon over on my beautiful (and sexy) wife's blog.

Check out the fun which was had over there.

Now, why was I a snarky ass? 3 reasons.

The post had nothing to do with Celiac disease.
Anonymous
Ignorance.

Put those three together and you've just turned me into a snarky butthead.

I hate ignorance.

I'm super ok with "not knowing", but talking to me like you do know... when you know you don't - I have no tolerance for it. It is a quick way to tell a lot about someone's personality.

Have fun reading... and while you're at it - maybe you'd like to leave a snarky comment for Anon as well. Not that they'll ever come back to her blog to read it - but still... what a great outlet for snarkiness.

Tuesday Tears

2009-05-12T11:41:00.003-05:00

My heart aches.

Kayleigh Anne Freeman

(June 23, 2008 - May 11, 2009)

I don't care what you believe in... pray, meditate, think about this family.

They need it.

Fatherhood Friday - It's the way she laughs

2009-05-07T23:00:00.000-05:00

What is it about the laughter? How could anyone have a bad day when a toddler pops open that half-toothy/half-gummy grin and starts giggling like all of the giggles are going away tomorrow?

I know I can't have a bad day with that.

Happy Fatherhood Friday to all the awesome dads out there. The dads who spend time with their children and make a huge effort to be a giant part of their lives. The dads who treat their wives (or husbands) with respect so that their little ones learn what true love is through observing your actions.

Here is my nod, fist pump, or hug (yes, I'm a total hugger) to you. Because at the end of a long week - you deserve it.

Let's talk about...

The baby itch.

I see where it comes from. I'm not saying I'm condoning or even thinking about it right now. All I'm saying is that I am starting to understand why so many couples have kids so close together.

Niamonster is 1 year old now.

(Total aside that has nothing to do with this... have I even ranted about how I hate telling people months past a year old? I don't tell you that I'm 320 months old. I want to give you her age... not a math problem.)

Uh... Oh yeah so Niamonster is 1 year old and since turning that blessed year old she has decided that she wants to drink almost all liquids out of a straw, she wants to walk, she wants to talk with big people words, and she wants to feed herself.

Try to do any of this for her and you have just cursed yourself with a little girl's temper tantrum. Gee... I have no idea where this "do it yourself and don't help me" mentality came from...

... it must have been her mom.

She's so grown up.

She's a toddler now. She's less like the little cute adorable cuddly mooshy goo-poosh... and more like a whiny screaming scratching howler monkey. Still really cute, but you've got to catch her first.

You get really used to having that little ball of foof just hanging out in her little rocker chair as she tries to reach up and swat at the little hanging toys. Remember the good old days when you used to cheer when she pulled the ring and the song played. Now you can't get her to stop pressing those *** **** buttons on that ******* Winnie the Pooh train!!

There in lies my "enlightening" as to why so many parents have multiple children so close in age. You WANT that cute little baby back. Having a baby means constant needs, love, attention, love, cuddling, needs, and love.

Having a toddler means, "hey.. no...come back here, please love me STOP SQUIRMING AWAY! I'm just trying to hold you. Where are you going now?... AGH! NO! Don't touch... what? what did you just baby-say to me? Are you cussing me out? I may not be able to understand your words but I sure know when I'm getting cusse... don't put that in your mouth... yes I'm talking about that. I can still see it in your hand. Yes, that piece of paper... I see it... don't put that... no... don't d... AGH! Stop crawling away you're going to choke on it... ugh... ISABELLA!!!!"

Still not going to have one so soon.

For as big as a pain as she can be (grumble grumble miss independent)... I still love every single minute that I spend with her... I mean... Come on... this is awesome!

Wacky Wednesday... uh... 12? - Socially crazy

2009-05-06T05:00:00.001-05:00

From my Monday post I'm sure you all know the story behind selling my 2005 MINI Cooper S.

Well, seeing as how this is "Wacky Wednesday", let's talk about how wacky my brother has gotten about it.

First, I should give you the background that he is a big Marketing dork. It has always been a running joke about him being in marketing.

You see... I'm a developer. I write the code, architect the application, design the flows, the UIs, the "sexy bits". I create the product that makes the money. Developers generally have a distain for Marketing folk because they swoop in like vultures, take your product and slut it out to the world using phrases like, "We did this... " or "We created that..."... almost as if they were any part of the sometimes months-long process to create kick ass applications. It's prentious. You didn't do shit.

Unfortunately, they're a necessity since most developers, myself included, aren't the most "socially apt" people around. So... (sigh) I guess without them the product wouldn't get sold... as much.

I mean no offence to people in marketing... I have nothing against you - we do need you... it's... it's... aw nevermind.

Anyway (wow I totally busted off on a rant there... sorry), so - my brother has been looking for an outlet to do some social networking experimentation and he was enlightened by me selling Claire. He wanted to take selling Claire under his wing as an experiment to see what kind of craze he could create (if any at all).

He wanted something kitchy and viral. So he decided on the "man loses last shred of bachelorhood... blah blah blah" and created the theme "MINI Cooper vs Mini Van". Odd you think? Somewhat... I agree. Seeing as how it's all crap - because selling the MINI was my decision.

What, you might ask, has this crazy brother done?

I'm tempted to almost call this "too much". But he's running the experiment... I'm just a pawn. Then again... as of right now 389 Twitter followers aren't lying about the potential "viruality" of this.

So... want to take part in the "joke"/"experiment"? Join up on those groups/blogs/twitters and make yourself known.

I do just want to say that most of you, since following me, have gotten a good sense of what I'm about - I do hope you notice that a lot of this is quite farcical.

My wife glues her fingers together on a regular basis. I'm starting to get concerned.

Finally - Cuteness overload. My daughter and her first time with sand.

Meaningful Monday - Happy Tears... Really

2009-05-04T05:00:00.002-05:00

I once had a baby and people called me a freak.

Yup. That's right. People told me I was a freak when I told them I had a baby. This baby came into my life in March 2005. My first new car. A 2005 MINI Cooper S. I named her Claire.

I remember being quite timid about the whole process. I was fresh out of college and I landed a very nice job straight out. I wasn't tied down to any sort of girlfriend or stuck to any responsibility. It was just me. I was making plenty of money and I wanted my dream car.

I asked my father to join me in this process because he was, and still is, the one guy I look up to for everything in life. I remember sitting at the dealership and picking out options skipping over some just because they would be "nice to have" but not necessary.

My dad stopped me as I skipped over the upgraded stereo system.

"Son, this is your dream car. Make it yours."

So I did. Every little thing about her was exactly what I wanted. At the time it was well within my budget and fit my lifestyle to a T.

April 05

I started chatting more with the most amazing girl in the world. She loved Claire as much as I did and we spent countless hours simply driving around and purposely getting lost. My wife, at the time, lived in Chicago so Claire and I spent many nights driving back and forth between our cities. Things got more and more serious with Isabella and I until eventually...

"It's a huge get together for MINI Owners"

Along came MINIs on the Dragon (or MOTD). MOTD is an extended weekend where MINI owners from all over the country gather at Deals Gap, TN at a road called the Tail of the Dragon. 311 curves in 11 miles... and we're not talking about your sissy curves either. MINIs, known for their amazing handling, tear up the dragon like it's nothing.

Isabella and I planned a trip in 2006 to head down to MOTD and chum it up with a lot of MINI owners that we had met online.

Little did she know that the purpose of me wanting to go to MOTD had nothing to do with MINIs.

On May 5th, 2006, I got down on one knee and asked her to stay by my side forever. (You can read even more about it here.)

We went back the next year and got to know even more cool people, and hooked up with the Milwaukee MINIs too.

I would spend lots of free time thinking of little home-brew things I could do to her. Connecting an aftermarket amplifier without rewiring the whole car, hooking up an AUX input without buying the expensive add-on, even doing tests with different air diverter designs.

I also spent lots of extra money on her too. Upgraded engine bits, new brake systems, etc. When I wasn't spending money on Isabella or necessities - it usually went to the Claire fund.

I had always told people that I was going to hang on to her until she pooped out, which with as ridiculously anal I was about keeping her clean and in good healthy shape - was going to be a long time.

funny how my plans aren't always what's best.

April 19, 2008

My life got flipped upside down. Everything that I was came to a sudden halt and I no longer cared about me, it was all about her.

I'm not talking about Claire anymore... I'm talking about her.

My baby. My actual baby. There was no purchasing agreement. There was no picking out my options. There was just her big blue eyes struggling to stay open while getting used to a world that was so bright.

My money. My life. My Everything. Is Yours.

Suddenly I was finding myself enthused about something totally different. I was (and still am) constantly excited about being a father. Constantly trying to find new ways to better myself and connecting with people that have similar interests in being good dads. I went from North American Motoring to Dad-Blogs. I went from Helix Minisports to Baby's-R-Us.

Suddenly there was no longer a Claire fund, it was replaced with the Niamonster fund.

So why am I paying for you anymore.

It hit me a month ago and I've been thinking about it ever since. Isabella and I don't live outside of our means... we live right at them. Rarely is there a month where we are socking away savings. And that's bad.

It especially hit me with Isabella's latest "unknown" with her medical condition. (If you read her blog... which you should... you know what I'm talking about.) I was thinking about what would happen if suddenly we had huge medical bills or some other act of unknown that would hit us with a big financial burden?

While pondering finances I looked out my window and into the garage... and I saw Claire. I have a weird love for that car... but not as much love as I have for my family.

I knew it was time to let go.

I had to say goodbye. It made absolutely no sense to pay as much as I am a month for that car loan when it is nothing more then a machine that gets me to and from work (and the occasional date night). There are so many things that I want to save for... and buy right now for my family. I want a big fat down payment on a house... I want a car seat that works better for Niamonster... I want to look at my finances every month and not have to "juggle" sometimes. I want another kid sometime in the not so distant future.

Niamonster deserves it.

The quickest and best way is to sell Claire.

You know it's best. You feel it's best. It still sucks.

Wussy mode engaged. This weekend wasn't easy. I spent a lot of the nice hours of the day washing and waxing her to a super shine. Cleaning her interior twice over. Making sure everything is in tip top shape. I took pictures. I wrote up a description.

I held Isabella's hand, said a little prayer to the big guy upstairs and clicked "Publish".

http://milwaukee.craigslist.org/cto/1153163999.html

The Moral of the Story is...

I guess I wrote this for 3 reasons. (I need a list to make me feel better.)

Therapy - I know that sometimes talking or writing about a difficult thing makes coping and coming to terms with it easier. So you just subjected yourself to my therapy session - you're like my shrink only you just did it for free.
Moral - It's not a sacrifice if it's something you want to do. There is no need to hang on to past things if you know that it's only going to impede the better future things. I always have to remind myself that I'm only 26. I often times forget that and think that I'm way older.
Know anyone who wants to buy an awesome car? (You knew it was coming.)

I'd do anything for this family.

And if selling what was once my passion means good things for my family - then I'd do it a million times over.

This is my passion. This is my life.

What else could I ever want?

Fatherhood Friday - I'll dance with you always.

2009-04-30T23:24:00.006-05:00

Happy Fatherhood Friday! For those who don't know what this is all about, you need to head yourself on over to www.dad-blog.com It's an amazing group of people and I've already been introduced to a slew of online awesome people. You cute little girl-girls are totally welcome over there too.

This FF post isn't going to be very long because there really isn't much to write on the topic. I don't even know why I think about it sometimes since it is so far off into the future.

Someday I'm going to have to let her go

20 odd some years from now I'm sure she'll find an amazing man who treats her well, and she'll leave me. I swear I'm such a wuss when she just turned 1 and already I get choked up about something that isn't going to happen for a very long time.

I especially think about this when we dance, because we'll dance at her wedding.

But for now, she's all mine!

Wacky Wednesday 11 - My Ears a Clogged

2009-04-29T05:00:00.000-05:00

A hip-happy Wednesday to all and a warm welcome to the new readers this week. (I see you there... sneaking in there like ninjas... don't think I can't see you).

My world is currently very hazy. I'm not sure if it's part of the healing process from me being sick, but it feels like my head in under water right now with the way I am hearing different sounds. Like someone blew little water bubbles into my ears and now everything is muddled.

I hate it. I rely on sound a lot in my life and am especially peckered that my music sounds like it's coming out of to tin cans. Ugh.

I feel sort of bad for my brother, poor kid hasn't been getting very much sleep lately. He and I like to have chats on IM during the day that are filled with banter and witty comebacks. All things are said in fun and we usually try to continually one up each other with funny phrases or jesting quips. I mean... what are big brothers for?

Well, lately because of his lack of sleep I've just been beating him up. I'm almost starting to feel bad about it. There have been multiple occasions where he's just stopped his sentence and wrote, "... wait... ugh... I just can't think straight. This lack of sleep is really effecting me."

Any sleep remedies anyone has that I can offer him so that he gets back to his old self and so that I don't have to feel so bad for DOMINATING! (booo yah!)

No, seriously though... does anyone?

Finally... remember the ShamWow guy? Oh yeah, check this out.

Meaningful Monday - Sick Again

2009-04-27T05:00:00.000-05:00

Um... Hi.

((shuffling feet on the ground))

How are you guys... I. uh. you know...

didn't post on Friday. so... I'm sorry.

Hope you can find it in your hearts to forgive me. Promise I won't let it happen often, it's just that I was really sick last week and there was a lot of stuff on my mind and I think it all just met up with me all at once.

Stretched Thin

I'm gonna lay down some of my beliefs for a second. I believe there is a God. I also believe that this God is benevolent as well as my home-boy. I do believe that God is not a dick. Given these statements of belief I know that "my God" would never give me more then I can handle.

The funny thing is that what I can handle isn't much. What I can handle with him as my "dude" is everything. ("I can do all things through him who gives me strength" layin' down some phatty Philippians 4:13 for you Bible readers out there.)

Lately I've been sucking at looking to him (or her I guess... personifying God usually leads to a "male" reference, so technically he has no gender... but calling God "it" just seems odd) for strength. I've been looking inwardly and trying to juggle a lot of issues going on in life.

Finances, being a good dad, being a good husband, not knowing what's going on with my wife, having a new team lead at work, keeping friends happy, throwing parties, worrying about job security, etc.

There are more but those are the big ones and I let them rule me instead of just relaxing a bit, taking a step back, and realizing that I can't control everything.

It's funny. I'm a control freak who tries to control everything in his life, when deep down, I know I don't want to control everything.

So it builds up until...

I get sick. My body forces me to shut down and ignore everything in the world except the necessities. It usually revolves around some crappy chest congestion that doesn't leave my lungs... ever.

And that's what happened last week. And why I didn't post Friday, because I needed to just ignore some things in my life and, not that I don't value you, dear reader... because I really do, but this blog was the first thing to get the axe when it came to things to do on Friday. (well... Thursday night)

But I'm back.

I've had the time to reset, reboot, reload a fresh kernel and clean out my processes, open up a few threads, and start a little bit new.

Funny afterthought.

I did pecker off my wife on Thursday. Since Wednesday I hadn't really been running any sort of temperature, just crappy feeling and lots of coughing and no sleeping, At 6:30pm on Thursday my temperature spiked to 102.9F out of no where. By 7:30pm I was down to 100.5F and by 8pm i was at 99.4F

At the 8pm check she gave me evil glarey eyes.

I looked at her and said, "What. Clearly my immune system found the virus and had to kill it."

With disdain in her voice she said, "I hate you and your freaking immune system."

Have a good week everyone!

Wacky Wednesday 10

2009-04-22T05:00:00.001-05:00

I'm all out of sorts today. Niamonster has been fighting a little cough and some snotties and a little fever, and just as she starts going on the upswing... you guessed it... daddy starts going on the down swing.

Awesome. Not like I have to go to work or anything.

But who cares about illness - let's get wacky anyway.

My wonderful wife IMs me today at work with "The garbage men didn't take our garbage." On a normal Tuesday I think I'd normally be ok with it, but this was a Tuesday after hosting a decent sized party. That meant we had more garbage then your average bear.

As you can assume at a party that is hosted outdoors, people will throw their garbage items away in the nearest garbage receptacle. If they were in the garage, I had placed a garbage can in there. If they were outside on the deck, then our big honkin' garbage can was there.

It's a garbage can, right?

OH OF COURSE NOT!

Not according to the completely screwed up Milwaukee county. That's not a garbage can... it's a refuse container that is suppose to contain refuse in bags. You know what else it is not supposed to contain?

Cans. Two of them to be exact because I saw them sitting on top of the now, "Refuse container", when I pulled it out to the curb.

How do I know the cans were the reason for the garbage men not taking my trash?

And to make it even better they were nice enough to remind me HOW to recycle.

(huff... deep breath ShankRabbit... relax)

This pissed me off. I was cussing up a storm to Isabella on IM and throwing down words that could make a Canadian hockey player blush.

WHY? WHY????

BECAUSE THE WHOLE PURPOSE OF RECYCLING IS TO BE FRIENDLY TO THE ENVIRONMENT AND I GET THAT, BUT BECAUSE SOME ASSFACE IN OUR COUNTY'S GOVERNMENT WANTED TO MAKE SURE WE WERE NICE AND REGULATED, THEY CAME UP WITH THIS!!

... sorry for yelling.

But seriously, think about it. Recycling is good for our planet. However, I think that the time and resources which were spent printing this little "instruction sheet" and this little sticker telling me what a bad human I am, hurt the environment MORE then what two little aluminum cans in a landfill ever could have done.

It wasn't the garbage men who put this sign up either. Isabella was home when they picked up the trash.

So lets take a trip down today's events as I can assume they happened:

9:45am: Garbage men A, B, and C come rolling down our street.
9:46am: Garbage man B hops off the back of the truck and walks towards our garbage can.
9:46am: Garbage man B grabs the two bags sitting on the ground.
9:47am: Garbage man C notices a glimmer of shine coming from the "refuse container" and says to garbage man B, "Pardon me, gentle sir, I doth believeth that our kindly neighbor here is attempting to lay waste to our planet with his glimmering magical cans. Our Lord hath sayeth, 'Whoever shall lay waste with shiny objects shall be ignored.'".
9:48am: Garbage men A, B, and C leave my "refuse container", still full, on my sidewalk and drive off.
11:55am: Garbage men A, B, and C arrive in their truck at the city dump and give reportings to the director of sanitation that a foul beast has attempted to destroy all mankind with aluminum, however, they successfully thwarted my evil plans.
1:35pm: Sanitation director personally initials a public reprimand for the foul beast, warning that if said beast ever attempt such a dastardly ploy again, all sanitation services shall be severed.
1:36pm: Sanitation director hops in his company car and drives to the foul beast's lair to deliver said reprimand.
1:45pm: Upon realization that the foul beast is at the doctors for his foul spawn's 1 year checkup, the Sanitation director leaves the note at the BACK DOOR.
1:58pm: Sanitation director arrives back at his office with the smile of victory at another days work completed.

Bastards.

You know what the kicker is? One of the bags that they did take was very translucent and VERY filled with cans.

Ass. Holes.

Guess what else? Niamonster took her first steps and I was home with video camera in hand. Woot!

Enjoy.

Meaningful Monday - Happy Birthday, Niamonster

2009-04-20T00:06:00.007-05:00

I had a lot of time to sit and reflect yesterday. Exactly one year ago yesterday my wife went through a physical process that you could only believe was possible by witnessing it (and even then I wonder how the hell she did it).

A child. A human. Grew inside of my wife for 9 months. Came out in the most painful way imaginable. Sitting in her chair and playing with her cake.

Playing.

There are thoughts and feelings I have which I can't express in words. I want people to be able to read this text and feel what I feel - but that's not possible.

The first birthday isn't just a huge milestone for Niamonster... it was a huge milestone for me.

Here's why.

Aside from all of those lame jokes that people drop about "being able to actually keep the kid alive", the thoughts of success and achievement really are there.

A year ago yesterday I was put into a situation where I had no idea what was going on. I had changed only one or two diapers in my lifetime. Had never fed a baby, or held it for very long, much less raised it or cared for it. I was thrusting myself into, what seemed like, an infinite abyss of the unknown.

I hate the unknown.

And there I was, forced to confront it with two options. Absolute Victory -or- Complete Failure. New and frightening thoughts were blasting their way into my head. "Did I have what it takes?", "Will I be able to provide enough?", "Will I know how to take care of her?"

"Will I be a good daddy?"

The first birthday arrives and as I stared at my beautiful little girl with cake on her face, with all her loved ones around her, with her smile and those two little teefers....

I did it. Here is the proof.

I am a good daddy.

Happy Birthday, little girl. I love you more than monkey.

Fatherhood Friday - I'm going to make you a 5-dollar-aire

2009-04-17T12:01:00.004-05:00

"Ugh. Dad. You Fail."

It's Friday and I'm swamped. With work. With Niamonster's first birthday party tomorrow. With finances. The list just keeps going.

We're all under some financial hardships and I want to help you. I'm not going to send you money because I don't have any.

What I do have is a finger. A finger that clicks quite well (among other things... ah-booyah).

Here is my present to you this Friday.

I'm going to make you money by clicking on your ads. All Fathers who posted over on www.dad-blogs.com will get clicks on their ads, all people I follow will get clicks, and if you don't participate in Fatherhood Friday or I don't follow you, then please leave a comment here with a link to your blog and I'll do some clicking there too.

We all deserve a few extra cents in our bank accounts, and I want to be that person who can give you a few pennies.

Happy Fatherhood Friday!

Wacky Wednesday 9 - CONTEST WINNER!

2009-04-15T05:00:00.002-05:00

First off all let's get to the contest.

Here was how the random winner was picked (and all approved and over watched by Isabella)

All entries were placed in a spreadsheet. Number of total entries were calculated by user and then they were all given a span of numbers for the number entries.

Then I went to the wonderful Random.org and had them generate a number between 1 and 81. AND BEHOLD WE HAVE A WINNER!

!!! BUSY-DAD-E !!!

(clap clap clap clap)

I'll be contact you soon with a bazillion questions.

Niamonster pooped on Isabella's hand today. I treated her like she had the plague for the next 30 minutes and didn't want her touching me.

Poop really has lost its disgusting factor since Niamonster has been born though. Really, any bodily function (or dysfunction) has little to no effect on me anymore. Vomit used to... pooping used to...

Now it's just "meh, whatever"

And now some links to far off places because they're funny and I'm really not right now. (I know... Wacky Wednesday and I'm not wacky.)

This link is a collection of IMs, Emails, and postcards from mothers. It's funny because as you read them it is SO easy to see how all mothers are alike.

http://www.postcardsfromyomomma.com/highest-rated/

And finally a tribute to the greatest 4$ your mom ever spent on you.

http://www.laserportraits.net/

You are not forgotten.

2009-04-14T11:31:00.002-05:00

Between the hullabaloo of Easter, my beautiful wife getting sick, and a baby who didn't want to sleep I failed to get the Monday post up.

The results are in, the entries counted, the randomization selection process is all set to go. Isabella will be my watch dog tonight as I draw the winner of the Have Friends. Get Music. contest.

Thanks to everyone who participated and I'm super glad to have new followers and, in turn, new people that I'm following.

Look forward to tomorrow's post and the winner of the contest!

Have Friends. Get Music. - The Final Day!

2009-04-12T00:00:00.002-05:00

Welcome New Friends!

What is this Have Friends. Get Music. contest, you ask? Read about it here.

Where's the standings?

Well, there are none for two reasons. One, it adds a bit more tension as to who has the most... though, I think we all know Liz has handed a complete ass kicking in terms of entries. The second reason is because I'm not writing this Saturday evening... I'm writing this immediately after I finished writing Saturday's post.

Isn't the "schedule" option great?

As stated in yesterday's post the final days we'll be talking about music.

Music. Is. Amazing.

My art professor would drop kick me in the head for saying something like that. She hated generalizations when critiquing thing. "How is it amazing? Amazing is a cheap word, describe what you mean."

Fine, professor, this is what I mean:

Think about how intricate sound is in general from a physics stand point. Vibrations in the air shaking the air molecules between 20Hz and 20000Hz or... the frequency a peak and trough(cycles) happens in one second. This vibration hits our ear drums and is converted to an electrical signal that our brains know how to process.

But combining complex combinations of these frequencies over a time period creates a pattern our minds can recognize and remember. Simple vibrations in the air can elicit strong emotion... be it love... sadness... anger... angst.

From vibrations.

See, this is how my mind works. I like to take things most people take for granted and find the beauty in their workings and in their complexity. Finding out how complex some of the most common things are actually makes them more beautiful.

And you wonder why music means so much to me.

It means so much to me, not just because of it's complexity, but because it also reminds me to never stop looking for deeper and inner complexities of everything around me. To slow down a little bit and notice things around you that have always been there but that you've never noticed.

Bring in the daddy reference...

I think it's also why I love watching Niamonster grow up. When she was born she was a constant tone, a wave that was unchanging - but the minute she entered this world is also when that wave started getting more complex. Little by little more instruments, more melodies and sub-melodies are added to the symphony of her life and who she is. When people see her and listen to her life I hope they are moved emotionally in many different ways - I pray she continues to always look for new and intricate ways to add to her pages and pages of ledger filled with musical notes of growth.

What common thing's complexity do you find beautiful?

Have Friends. Get Music. - The Final Countdown.

2009-04-11T00:00:00.003-05:00

Welcome New Friends!

What is this Have Friends. Get Music. contest, you ask? Read about it here.

Contest Update (Liz continues to dominate!)

Name	Comment Entries	Friend Entries	Total
Alix	1	0	1
Andrew's Daddies	2	0	2
Andy	1	0	1
Apok	2	0	2
Bella daddy	2	0	2
Busy-Dad-E	2	0	2
c3	1	0	1
Call Me Cate	4	0	4
Ciara	4	0	4
Daddy Files	1	0	1
DaddyKV	1	0	1
Jason	1	0	1
Jeff	3	0	3
Jim and Garret	4	0	4
Joanie M	3	0	3
Joel	1	0	1
KWG	1	0	1
Leticia	1	0	1
Liz	5	16	21
Mary Ellen	2	0	2
Nancy	1	0	1
Nbauer	1	0	1
Otter Thomas	5	0	5
PJ Mullen	1	0	1
Rob	1	0	1
WeaselMomma	1	0	1

These final two days we're going to talk about music since the contest is coming real close to the end and since the contest is about music anyway.

One Hit Wonders

I don't mind one hit wonders when referring to "one hit song", but I'm really bothered by one hit wonders when referring to "one hit album" and by bothered I mean, "mad they didn't make more". Like New Radicals - their whole album was amazing and, for the time period, was cutting on the edge of a lot of new territory. It made me really sad that they only came out with one album. The opposite side of that would be a band like Europe. What is the one and only song you can name from them? The Final Countdown, obviously. You ever listen to anything else on any of their albums?

I bet if you did, you only listened to it once - cause it suuuuucks.

I don't want to be a one song hit wonder.

I don't want to be known for one song forever and a day. I would love to have people talk about multiple albums and what their likes and dislikes were about each one... to look forward to the next one coming out... to pass the music around to their friends for free (yeah... we're not the bad kind of band... we make music to be listened to, not to make money).

It takes dedication and beating the crap out of yourself to constantly push you and your fellow band members to be their best and hit everything right. It also takes an understanding and love to the people you play with so that no one hates you and wants to kill you at the end of the day. Criticism needs to be had and pride should be checked at the door. Did that key part suck or were your vocals flat? Do it again. And we'll keep doing it until you get it right.

It sounds so depressing but it's not. It helps you, not just as a musician but as a person, when someone is constantly pushing you to be your best.

I don't want to be a one hit wonder dad either.

That's what I love about Isabella, she constantly pushes me to be a better dad... a better person. I don't want you to think that she's naggy, because she isn't - she just has an expectation of what she knows I can do and what she knows I can accomplish. When I don't live up to my full potential as a father and a husband she'll let me know how disappointed she is. Not to guilt me, but because she knows that I'm doing an injustice to myself by not striving to be the best I can be.

The last thing I want in life is for Niamonster to grow up into a beautiful adult and have her look back and only remember me for one thing... for one "song". She deserves more than that. I want her to look back and analyze all aspects of me... what I did really right as a parent as well as the things that I could have done better. I'm not perfect and I know I won't play every parent card at all the right times. I'm preparing myself for the "Leave me alone"s and the "I hate you"s while she grows up... but if she can someday, maybe even when she starts a family of her own, look back at me and think, "the way my daddy raised me is how I want to raise my kids"... that's when I'd know that I succeeded in being what I know I can be.

Don't be a one hit wonder.

90 miles outside Chicago, can't stop driving I don't know why.

What is your favorite One Song Hit Wonder?

-or-

Did the Captain of the Titanic Cry?

Fatherhood Friday 8 - WAR!

2009-04-10T00:00:00.002-05:00

Welcome New Friends!

What is this Have Friends. Get Music. contest, you ask? Read about it here.

Contest Update

Name	Comment Entries	Friend Entries	Total
Alix	1	0	1
Andrew's Daddies	1	0	1
Apok	1	0	1
Bella daddy	1	0	1
Busy-Dad-E	1	0	1
c3	1	0	1
Call Me Cate	3	0	3
Ciara	3	0	3
Jeff	2	0	2
Jim and Garret	3	0	3
Joanie M	2	0	2
Leticia	1	0	1
Liz	4	14	18
Mary Ellen	2	0	2
Nbauer	1	0	1
Otter Thomas	4	0	4

Happy Fatherhood Friday! Welcome to all the dads who know they're awesome and blog about it and hang out over at dad-blogs.com - check them out they're all a really great bunch of people.

The Battle of the Parents

This has been an on going battle for generations and I am proud to say that our family is gladly carrying on the tradition. I'm talking about the war that wages between the mom and dad to constantly want the child the choose you over the other. The battles that happen where mom and dad are sitting on opposite ends of the room, both cooing and coaxing trying to win out as the "best" parent by having the child crawl over to them first.

Maybe it's just with first time parents. Obviously I can't speak from any other experience as I only have one little rascal crawling around, but I think it's safe to say that it happens even with more the one child.

Oh... Shank... We don't do that.

Pfft. Don't lie to me. Never? Who doesn't love to be number one? Obviously when it comes down to the real love and feelings the winning doesn't matter... but I'm not talking about the deep down rooted love, I'm talking about the surface stuff right now.

And on the surface it RULES to be number 1!

The Battlegrounds.

Warzone #1: Church

The war wages fierce while sitting in the pews of church. Trying our silent and stealthy attacks against one another to get Niamonster to reach out for the other parent. Victory is audibly silent but pridefully loud as it is custom for one parent to shoot a blazing sneer of triumph at the other parent.

Warzone #2: The Grandparents House

While the gaze of grandparents is upon us, we keep our smiley, lovey, game faces in their perma-grins. But around the corners and in the guest bedrooms it's a cacophony of destruction as Isabella and I blast Niamonster with affection and love so as to be the lucky one who gets her affection when the grandparents are back in view.

Warzone #3: Amongst Friends

Since we were the first couple out of all of our friends to have a child, this warzone can oftentimes be the deadliest. Without the silence of church and the necessity of being behaved around the grandparents, a friends house can often lead to vile and sarcastic remarks, forceful espionage, and covert operations to sometimes avoid "gaining affection" to simply all out "stealing" it.

I'm thinking of invading her home base.

I literally mean home. With Isabella being a stay-at-home mom, she has conquered the home and turned it into a dictatorship. I'm setting forth a plan to usurp her vile authority and bring peace and democracy to this fine country... er... home. Then, through hidden agendas, secret organizations, and lobbyists I will gain ultimate control and bring in wiretaps, 24 hour surveillance, and "home"land security - but mask it all as necessary to prevent a "home"land invasion of pure and vile motherhood. If all fathers unite, we will prevail as the ONLY source of comfort and love for all of our children.

I'm going in. Who's going to join me?

Where are your bloodiest warzones?

Have Friends. Get Music. - Thursday

2009-04-09T00:00:00.005-05:00

Welcome New Friends!

What is this Have Friends. Get Music. contest, you ask? Read about it here.

Contest Update!

First off... people... this is a contest... and Liz is DOMINATING! Good job so far Liz!

Name	Comment Entries	Friend Entries	Total
Alix	1	0	1
Andrew's Daddies	1	0	1
Apok	1	0	1
Busy-Dad-E	1	0	1
Call Me Cate	2	0	2
Ciara	2	0	2
Jeff	1	0	1
Jim and Garret	2	0	2
Joanie M	2	0	2
Liz	3	10	13
Mary Ellen	1	0	1
Nbauer	1	0	1
Otter Thomas	3	0	3

Here are 3 easy steps to give Liz a run for her money (not that I don't want you to win, Liz, but I do love me some competition)

Make a post on your blog about how awesome it would be to have a song written just about you.
At the end of the post tell your readers they can make your dream a reality just by coming to my blog and referring you.
Tell your readers that they too could have a song written about them by repeating steps 1 through 3 and have them reference both you AND themselves. (double points!)

See? Easy. It's like a pyramid scheme... but for a little slice of awesome!

Also, some reminders. (we'll go unordered this time... Mmm. Lists.)

Drawing is still randomly chosen, however the more entries you have the more likely you'll win.
Comments are only allowed on the day of the post. I am disabling comments on previous days so no one cheats. Though, Joanie M. snuck past that one the first day (sneaky girl, you).
References only count once for 2 entries.

I can't believe how tough it is to post everyday of the week. I thought the 3 times a week thing was tough... this is brutal. So painful that I'm half tempted just to copy the Apache server configuration text that I'm working on right now... doesn't that sound like an awesome read?

But alas, I would not do that to you... so instead I shall talk about nothing at all. Just pictures from a recent photoshoot with my Niamonster.

Which one is your favorite?

Have Friends. Get Music. - Wacky Wednesday 8

2009-04-08T05:00:00.003-05:00

Welcome New Friends!

What is this Have Friends. Get Music. contest, you ask? Read about it here.

First off, the standings since 8:34pm 4/7

Name	Comment Entries	Friend Entries	Total
Andrew's Daddies	1	0	1
Apok	1	0	1
Call Me Cate	1	0	1
Ciara	1	0	1
Jim and Garret	1	0	1
Joanie M	2	0	2
Liz	2	6	8
Mary Ellen	1	0	1
Nbauer	1	0	1
Otter Thomas	2	0	2

I think it's pretty clear who really wants to win this.

On to the meat and potato salad!

Holy Rollers

My wife and I are the religious type of folk, but we're not the kind who vomit our beliefs on you. No one likes to be puked on, so why is it so many people are brainwashed to think that vomiting God all over people is the best way to win them over?

But that's for a different time. The reason I mention this is so that this story doesn't make you go "mwah?"

Isabella and I read devotion every night. If we are too lazy to get to that (did I just hear a collective *gasp* from the holy rollers?), we at least pray. However, we've noted that reading devotion at night together is a lot like sitting in church.

It's stupid easy to get the giggles.

Oh, you've been there. Maybe not the church part, but the "you're supposed to be somber and behaved" part. There is something about the "behave" aura that makes you so susceptible to laughing and not being able to stop.

Last night Isabella was getting all up in my grill to start reading devotion. "Read! Read! Now now now nwo nwo nwo nwo wnow nwo nwo wnow". But I couldn't. I can't start until she says 3 words that are tradition before any devotioning can be had.

"Devotion. The End."

Yes. At the beginning.

So she was bustin' my balls (wait a minute... didn't he just say he was religious? and he just said "balls"?) and I finally just blurted, "Cripes woman! Are you that antsy to get devotion started? Are you that big of a holy roller now?

She proceeded to start rolling and almost flipped herself off the bed.

Holy. Roller. (ba-da-dump)

Snot Rocket

I was sort of mean the other night. Isabella has this thing were she can't go to bed without first checking on Niamonster, tucking in her blanket, making sure her binky that has mysteriously found itself under her left leg is easy accessible again. The only problem is that I like to do this too.

It was about 11:30pm, we had finished brushing our teeth and Isabella has already run off to our bedroom. Our bedroom is connected to Niamonsters bedroom via a Jack-and-Jill style bathroom. So I, being the last one in the bathroom, went to go check on Niamonster.

As I was walking back towards our room, Isabella starts walking in... I whisper, "What are you doing?". She responds, "I'm checking on her" and I retort, "I already did".

But she proceeded to try and push past me.

I have this thing. I'm not home as much but I still want my actions with Niamonster to be "good enough". Like if I feed her, I want my style of feeding her to be good enough. If I tuck her in right before I go to bed, I want that to be good enough. Having Isabella copy me or re-do what I did makes me feel "not good enough". (such complex logic here)

So she crosses my path... I quickly turn around and give her a little shove and run in the other direction giggling.

I hear "thud thud" as her feet catch her balance... and a few moments later a "snnnnerk" and then she starts giggling. She runs back into our room and we're both laughing our tails off. But alas, she fired off the nasal rocket of laughter and that was enough to wake up Niamonster.

She didn't go back down for another 30 minutes, but it was SO worth it.

What places do you find yourself struggling to stifle the giggles?

"Have Friends. Get Music." Day Two.

2009-04-07T05:00:00.003-05:00

Welcome New Friends!

What is this Have Friends. Get Music. contest, you ask? Read about it here.

The Standings

After the first day of the contest, here is where we stand.

As of 10:40pm on 4/6

Name	Entries
Andrew's Daddies	1
Apok	1
Liz	1
Otter Thomas	1

For those friends who are new to this site today, you should know that I normally don't post on Tuesday... so this is a little weird for me. Be gentle - I bruise easy.

Work May Suck. But Coming Home Never Gets Old.

Any parent worth their salt hates to leave every morning to go to work. Isabella is a stay at home mom so I'm the unlucky one who gets to wake up in the morning and head off to corporate America to bring home the bacon so that my wife and my daughter can eat healthy, have warm clothes, a roof over their head, and modes of transportation.

It's what I do. I hate being away, but every family member plays a role and this one is mine.

What I DO love is coming home every day. There is never a doubt in my mind that Niamonster misses me just as much as I miss her during the day. She's one smart cookie and she knows around the time daddy gets home from work everyday. She'll wait and listen, and the minute she hears my car pull into the garage she starts looking around for me.

The minute I open the door I hear a "squeeeeee!". If she's on the floor she'll come crawling towards door or if she's in mommy's arms she wiggle so much that Isabella has to struggle keep a hold of her.

And that smile... my god... that smile.

No matter how bad my day was. No matter how good or terrible work is being... I always have someone waiting for me who thinks I'm the cat's pajamas.

Everyday I see that. And everyday I think to myself, "this... this is why I can make it at work and why I go back." Don't get me wrong, I love my job... but nothing compares to being with my babies. (yes... Isabella is my baby too)

When does your little one (be it child or cat or dog or fish) "Squeeee!" for you?

Meaningful Monday - A Contest!

2009-04-06T05:00:00.006-05:00

First of all... I'm listening to Andy Samburg singing "I'm on a Boat" to me, and while I realize that it's one of the most ridiculous songs in the world and lyrically it's demeaning to any word that rhymes with another... yet... I find myself constantly singing it... it's a disease that's stuck in me head. There is something about T-Pain's autotuned voice that embeds itself into my brain matter like an alien who has laid it's eggs in my head.

Anyone else want it in there head? Here. (this is the R rated version)

On to the real purpose of this post.

You have followers and I want them. I also want to follow those people you follow. You have people's whose blogs you like to read and I want to read them too.

So here's the deal.

I play music. I like playing music. I also write it.

And I want to write a song about you.

Here's how it's going to work. (i.e. Rules of the Contest)

I will make a post everyday this week with a question at the end of the post (just to give you something to comment about)
You will comment on every post. Each comment = 1 entry every day. Only one comment entry will be counted per day.
I will keep track of the number of entries per person and will post them each day in my blog (adds a little spice of competition... yum yum!).
Tell your friends/followers/readers to come here and comment and have them reference you. Each follower/reader/friend that references your name will count as 2 additional entries for you.
Contest starts today (4/6/2009) and ends a week from today (4/13/2009).
On 4/13/2009 I will randomly choose a winner, Isabella will be my witness to the randomness.

What's the deal with the song?

People like free things and I want to give you something for free. I graduated with an Art major but I haven't really used it since obtaining it, so my art would be no good. I write code for a living, but that's one heck of a boring prize. Music was the final choice since I still actively play and write and it doesn't seem like there are a whole lot of people giving that away.

About the song if you win:

It can sound however I want it to sound and the final product will be a mystery to you until you get it.
The topic of the song and lyrics will revolve around you or, if you're shy, a topic or theme of your choosing.
I get the write the lyrics.
Give me at least a month to write it, compose it, produce it, and publish it.
It may just be me... it may be our band... who knows?!
I'll contact you if you win and ask you a bazillion questions for inspiration.

It'll be fun because you will have no idea what you'll get... can you handle the anticipation?

About me and music:

While I may just decide to throw a pan down the stairs while screaming your name out loud and using that as a "song", I probably won't. So why should you tell people to come to this blog and make comments?

I've been playing piano for 20 years.
I'm a classically trained vocalist.
I'm in a band: Leo Loves Virgo. (album out in June)

I fully intend on your song not sucking.

And when the song is finished...

I'll send you an high quality version in MP3 format. I'll also post it on my blog so that all of my new friends will hear how awesome you are through music. Legally, I'll own the rights to the song (read: I get to play it anywhere and anytime I want and don't have to give you money. Sorry.)

Contest begins...

NOW!

Today's question for commenting:

What are the top 3 music albums you own that you are ashamed to admit?

Mine:

Chumbawumba: Tubthumper
SheDaisy : The Whole Shebang
Fall Out Boy: From Under the Cork Tree

Fatherhood Friday 7 - Germy Germs

2009-04-02T23:47:00.007-05:00

Visit Dad-Blogs to get more information on Fatherhood Friday. Great group of people - dads and moms alike!

Well crap. Here I am on Friday and the two ideas that I had just got poopooed by the beautiful lady sitting 6 feet from me at her computer.

My first idea was to create a contest in which I will shower a lucky winner with amazing gifts of music (and in turn whore readers... cause who doesn't like more readers and in turn more blogs to read?)

But I haven't thought the contest out enough for it to be solid. So consider this a teaser. Something along the lines of: A whole week. 1 comment = 1 entry. Winner randomly choosen. Gets a song written about them or a topic of their choice. Song gets sent to winner and posted on my blog. If you recommended them and they win, you get mentioned in song as well.

My second idea was to put up the song that I sang to Isabella when I proposed to her (you can read the story on her blog)... but as I was laying down the tracks Isabella turns to me and says, "That's more of a Meaningful Monday post"...

ugh. god. fine!

So you're going to have to wait till Monday to hear my squawks into a mic on that song.

Let's talk about dirt.

I've met the gamut of people and their differences on germs and dirt. On one end you have the people who always walk around with their little bottle of Purel and their hand wipes, who wipe off the public doorknob before touching it, who refuse to poop in public toilets, who generally just stare at everyone like they are a disease and anything they touch is instantly plagued with the worst virus you can image.

Then you have those people who think showering once a week is too much and think the dirt adds color to the skin. The kind of people who simply walk out of the public bathroom before you as to wipe their piss hands all over the exit handle leaving you either trapped in the bathroom or forced to share in their tinky.

Thank God most of us are in between.

So how do you feel about your clones getting dirty?

My wife is always jealous of my immune system. I heal fast, rarely get sick (though when I do it's really bad), and when I do get sick I'm usually over it in 2 days. She, on the other hand, cuts herself with a piece of paper and damn near bleeds to death, and when she gets sick it drags on for about 3 weeks (and I mean "Draaaaags").

I have a little theory that the reason my immune system is a little bit stronger is because I like dirt and I like my body to train itself to like dirt and germs as well. I'm fascinated by the human body because of the way it adapts to keep you healthy, but like anything, it needs practice. What do you think vaccinations are? Dead viruses that your body can practice on.

For this reason, I'm really ok with Niamonster getting dirty. I'm ok with her crawling around on the concrete and then shoving her fists into her mouth. Yeah, it's gross, but a little dirt and germs are good for her. If she's on a play date and wants to allow her friends to shove their slobbery hands into her mouth... go ahead! Again, gross as all get out, but will it kill her? No.

I like to think that by allowing her to come into contact with germs and nasties while she's at this age is helping her body practice for when a big bad germ or virus comes along.

Someday...

I can't wait for the day that her and I can play outside and get dirty and play make believe and not care what germs we come in contact with. Of course, her lack of speech and walking is sort of impeding that dream right now, but sooooooon.

Have a happy, germy, Fatherhood Friday!

Wacky Wednesday 7

2009-04-01T08:00:00.001-05:00

You ever hear someone giggle at random intervals for short little bursts while the rest of the world is silent? When it comes to noises that I don't make or am not apart of, I like consistent tones that I can drown out.

My wife is randomly giggling at her computer.

I want to throw my shoe at the back of her head right now.

Niamonster's first birthday is coming up. (Let's not even get started on how insecure and uneasy that makes me feel). So Isabella and I are putting together neat little invitations for everyone. I love helping Isabella do her little crafty stuff, so aside from doing all the computer work, I like to cut and paste and write and do that old lady crafty stuff.

I was going to help her yesterday and said,

S: "I'll address the envelopes."

I: "No"

S: "Uh. Yes. Where is the address book."

I: "No. You're going to cut."

S: "I don't want to cut. I want to address envelopes."

I: "Sit down. Cut little strips this big. You're not addressing."

S: "Why not?"

I: In whiny 6 year old voice "Because I want to do that."

Ugh. My wife: she's crafty. (and she's just my type).... .... (she's craftay).

Finally, I leave you with Niamonster playing the daddy drums (i.e. my fat gut)

Meaningful Monday - Spoiled

2009-03-30T12:10:00.004-05:00

I'm starting to have this fear. It's been haunting me for a while but I've always been able to justify it by convincing myself that she just doesn't know any better.

However, that justification is wearing very thin and there are more and more tell-tale signs that she knows exactly what she is doing.

Could she be a spoiled brat?

We haven't done much in the way of true punishment or discipline because we've always read and heard that the baby doesn't understand it and can easily take it as "negative love". While I understand that she's only just a year old, I look into her eyes and see this often time devious little munchkin.

How do I know? Because... she's devious like I'm devious.

Sometimes I just want to scream!

What good does that do? None. But even if it did, would it really effect her? "Niamonster! No!" and she just slyly looks at me and continues about to the bad thing she was doing?

Or when she doesn't get her way... oh lord help me... It's not just the big things either... I'm talking about little things like not wanting to go into her car seat or not wanting to sit when she wants to stand. Examples like this lead to all out scream fests.

Which is odd.

It's odd because I have a really cute baby, and really cute babies are supposed to be cute. Not little spawns of evil!

So when do you start?

When is "ignoring it" starting to be detrimental to her well being? When should reprimands and spankings make their way into her life? (flame war on spankings anyone?)

If you are a parent of an older child, I need your help!

1. When they were Niamonster's age were they snotty?

2. When did you start discipline?

Fatherhood Friday 6

2009-03-26T22:51:00.007-05:00

Friday is here already? Crap...

As far as posts this week go, it's dang tough to top Wednesday's post. But here goes trying.

First and foremost, to all you guys out there who thought they could handle a child - Fappy Hatherhood Friday. Yup, it's been that kind of week.

So many topics I want to cover, but which one to choose? Funny kidisms?.. no... deep intellectual feelings?... no... Porn? ... always a good default - but no.

How about...

Guys Night Out

(I was going to put this at the end, but I figured it's better placed here. A lot of this post is filled with satire and sarcasm mixed with some truth. I'm really not as big of a dick as it seems... really... I'm not... really...)

I'm pretty stoked about today since I will be partaking in a guys night out. My mother is going out of town for some retreat for women who are christian and who spend the whole weekend doing crazy old lady things. It really is a mystery what goes on there almost to the point of "cult" level.

With my mother out of the house, my father is going to be home alone and thought, hey - why not live up good life with his 3 boys.

Be Kind. Please Rewind.

My mother has been going to this little retreat for a really long time. Long enough that I remember when all 3 boys lived at home. I'm the youngest of the 3 with the eldest jumping in at around 6 years older then me.

This weekend was really special to all of us because when mom left, it was the guys weekend. This was a time when my dad relaxed the rules of the house a little... when we could drink a few beers with him (I being about 12 then... naughty naughty), when we could run around in our undies, scratch, burp, fart, and watch however much TV we wanted. It wasn't as if my father just "let" us do this... most of the time he instigated it.

We bonded a lot during these times too. Man talks about girls and sports. Stories from my dad's childhood that let us know he was just like us when he was growing up.

It made my dad real. It made me realize that no matter what I did, or what I've gone through, I could go to my dad and he'd understand.

Back to the Future

Upon hearing of our get together tonight, I started a little pondering about this "man night" or "man weekend". Why it was special, even more so then it used to be with all 3 of us being married, I having a child, and my eldest brother having one on the way.

It is totally and completely different then any "girls night out". Girls usually go out and dress up cute and attract random guys to make themselves feel good. Or they go over to their friend's house and talk about their husbands and the way they think they're so good in bed and how many times she had to fake this or that and how he never cleans and doesn't help enough with the baby... blah blah blah. (this is obviously an exaggeration station, but to prove a point)

With guys it's different. Our night is about relaxing!

RELAXING? Your ass sits and watches ESPN all night. Your whole life is about relaxing!

Fathers... take a moment and think about the biggest motivation behind all things you do around the house. It's not self image. It's not because you were raised that way. It's sure as hell isn't cause your wife told you to.

The biggest motivating factor:

IS TO GET LAID

Don't deny it. It's all about accumulating "get some" credits. Clean up the kitchen? *clink* *clink* hear those credits drop in the pot. "Hunny, you go relax, I'll take care of the baby" *clink* *clink*... on your way to getting some later. Mop the floor? *clink* Take out the trash? *clink*.

But don't forget that the bad things you do withdraw money out of that account.

And that's a lot of Stress!

Constantly having to worry about whether or not your actions are depositing or withdrawing "get some" credits causes the knots on our back to get a little tighter.

THIS is why "guys night" is relaxing! It's the time where for a split increment of time in our lives we don't have to worry about whether or not our actions are one day going to be used for our good (if the mood is right, she's feeling ok, the moon is 20 degrees North, and a giraffe in Africa farted twice today) or whether they'll be used in some argument 3 years from now as ammunition.

It's about bonding with guys who know where you're at, dropping all masks, ignoring all tendencies to constantly "please" someone, to worry about just us and the dudes we're with.

What is guys night to you?

Wacky Wednesday 6 - Self Tanning

2009-03-25T08:00:00.002-05:00

Normally I'm pretty skitzo when it comes to posting on Wednesday. But today, readers, I will astound and amaze you with...

A Consistent Topic

(*gasp*)

Today's story revolves around my daughter and her delightful experimentation with self tanning solution. You know, the summer months are just around the corner and it's really tough for a girl these days to have to be in public with that beautiful winter sheen (and by "sheen" I mean blindingly pale). So who am I to judge a girl who wants to have a nice bronze tone for the first days of spring?

Oh.

That's right. I'm her dad. Oh yeah... and my daughter is 11 months old.

Obviously I'm not about to let my 11 month old have actual bronzing solution, so like her father, she went and improvised. I'm not going to lie - I'm proud as heck. I would have chosen something a little less chunky, but hey - for an 11 month old... not too bad.

BEHOLD!

Makeshift tanning solution!

For those of you who know Gerber's Vegetable beef, you know this crap stains... and stains good! Clothes, baby skin, adult skin, the cat, the dog, the floor... you name it. Instant orange is the destiny of all things who befall this solution of so called "edible" paste.

She was very sneaky about application. This consisted of strategically placed games of "peek-a-boo" in which the "boo" would come at the precise moment my spoon was travelling on its merry way to her mouth. This resulted in her hands smacking into the spoon which allowed her to prepare herself for the next "peek" stage. The "peek" stage was always precision timed for when I was reloading the aforementioned spoon, thus, applying the wonderful bronzing solution to her delicate skin.

As you can see below, she made sure to repeat this process several times for maximum and even coverage.

After the first application. Still needs a little more rubbing to smooth out the texture.

It takes a minute to realize that is NOT her natural skin tone. If you look right by her eyes you'll see her natural tone is far more pink.

Look at the glow! That shine! She's alive with energy and clearly is visiting this silly state from such awesome, sunshiney states like California or Florida. She's cool, she's hip, her dad let's her do whatever she wants!

As much as I love my daughter's independence and her wonderful ability to make adult decisions on her own, this clearly was not going to fly the rest of the night. You see... there is this lady that lives with us who doesn't understand what it's like to be pale. Her heritage keeps her skin tone at a nice "sand" in the winter, and a dark bronze in the summer. I guess that's what happens when African American heritage smashes together with Native American and Sicilian. (and about 14 other ethnicities).

Well, because this lady, who I guess we can just call "Isabella" for now, doesn't empathize with us whitey-whites, she decided that the bronze was coming off.

You can imagine Niamonster's face when she realized that she might lose her natural looking tan. Oh... wait... you don't have to imagine - I took a picture of it!

"Oh crap oh crap of crap"!

All that hard work. All those hours of planning and preparation. Learning "peek-a-boo", practicing fine motor skills, growing hair... all these things led up to this wonderful day and now this heartless wench called "mom" is going to ruin it all.

This could only be fought one way.

Screaming.

If she was any older I'm pretty sure there would have been of Isabella's blood in these pictures.

Angry Baby, is clearly angry. Someday when she's older she'll use this against us. (or maybe I'll use it against her... and show her BOYFRIEND!)

DO YOU SEE THE PAIN!? I'M WHITE AGAIN! I'M PALE WISCONSIN WHITE!

Oh. The fun.

So I thought the fun for the night was over... clearly I was wrong.

Niamonster has her favorite stuffed toy which was given to her as a gift by her grandmother who adores her more then anyone could ever imagine. This stuffed toy's name is Eebee. Perhaps you've heard of him... her... it... whatever. It's a "baby-like" toy that has it's own DVDs and acts like a baby and learns and plays all in the name of education.

Well if there was ever any doubt that Niamonster is my blood... it is 100% gone. This kid is the pure spawn of me and I realized this as Isabella was finishing up Niamonster's bath.

I looked down into her crib and... what the... are his...

Oh. Yeah. They are.

11 months old and already pulling down boys pants. Jesus.

Looks like I'll be attempting to have the "birds and bees" talk with her tomorrow.

I thought I would have had more time.

Meaningful Monday 6

2009-03-23T10:13:00.003-05:00

I hate being sick.

Hate it.

I got sick this weekend and it was no fun.

Story Time.

Friday was well spent with the wife and the child. Enjoying each others company with laughter, bed times, and chocolate ice cream (which lately seems to be a new routine). Saturday morning was band practice and I was in an especially good mood. We've been working on some fun tracks and gearing up for our first show.

Saturday afternoon I picked my eldest brother up (the one with holes in his tumtum), and he was going to hang out with us until the evening when we were all going to head over to our middle-brother's house for his wife's birthday.

Then came 4pm. Like a SCUD missile with laser guided precision some crazy sickness hovering 10m above me exploded and took me out. While Isabella and I were walking through Target and picking up a gift I could feel the infestation crawling through me and making me weaker second by second.

I wasn't about to bail on my sister-in-law's birthday so I just thought I'd tough it out. Dumb idea.

By the time we left I was shivering as my wife was saying, "Wow, it sure was hot in there." Now if there is one clear indication that I'm actually sick is when I am shivering and my wife is warm. I'm the kind of guy where you could easily cook an egg on me I'm so warm. I love cold environments and my wife HATES cuddling up to me if she is anything but freezing her ass off.

Down for the count.

So we get home, take my temperature, and surprise surprise, it's 101.5. I'm still shivering. I sleep like crap, and I'm out all Sunday.

Which makes me feel really bad inside.

With Isabella being a stay at home mom, I know that on the weekends I can give her a little break from the normal. I love being with my little girl on weekends and having lots of daddy - daughter time while mom can go out and do whatever she wants to.

However, when I'm laid up in bed with a fever, I can't do that. I don't want to be all up in Niamonster's business because the last thing we need is a sick baby. And I can't give Isabella the much needed break she deserves from working so hard during the week.

I get yelled at a lot.

Because of this, I say "I'm sorry" a lot when I'm really sick. Partly because I'm delirious, but mostly because I really am. Taking care of one child is bad enough, but when I'm sick I'm a total wuss. Isabella gets REALLY mad at me every time I say I'm sorry. "Shut Up!"

Stupid Sickness.

Fatherhood Friday 5

2009-03-20T00:35:00.004-05:00

It's all good in the hood of the father this Friday.

Shut your mouth... just... shut it.

How annoying is it when people look at your little rug rat and exclaim, "Oh she looks just like her mother." or "You can definitely tell where she gets her good looks."

Look. I know it's just people feeling the need to say something cliche that doesn't take much thought and that fills the void of silence, but it really is old... and lame.

I'd prefer silence, thank you.

Why DO people have such problems with silence? You are currently throwing my produce and dairy across a grid of strategically placed lasers which emit a gentle beep every time you succeed, as if you need a pat on the back every time you get that bar code in just the right place. You are NOT a close relative or friend and frankly I don't care if my daughter looks like your nieces' uncle's brother's daughter.

... but this post isn't about people who annoy me.

It's about my daughter acting like me.

One of me is bad enough.

If you haven't figured it out yet, I'm sort of a freak. A nerd. A dork. I mean, look at the titles above each of my sections... that kind of stuff gives me a little techie-stiffy. I'm also a control freak and I usually don't go down without a fight.

I really like to play coy and turn up the cuteness when I might be in trouble. I love being the center of attention but I HATE asking for it.

I could keep going on and on about all the quirky and often times annoying things about me.

All my life I thought I was unique.

Then came this little 20lb package of pooping, crying, laughing, almost walking, just about a year old, miniature human. All these things which I thought were me have turned into "us". My daughter is a total nerd. She loves any computer or technological device. She's analytical to the point of it making your head hurt. She's sassy and coy and plays devil's advocate. There's a part of me that wants to yell, "Hey! That's who I am. You can't steal that". As if she took the top hat out of the monopoly game set before I had a chance to claim that I wanted it.

Yeah. I make sense... don't I.

Take your mental blender. Add one part pride, one part empathy, and one part creeped out. That's the recipe I have when I look at my daughter. I'm sorry, Niamonster... I know what it's like to be me and while I think it's fun... you're in for one hell of a ride.

Creeeeeepy.

What magical traits have you thought were unique which are now shared by your miniature version of yourself?

Wacky Wednesday 5

2009-03-18T09:52:00.004-05:00

The funny thing about drinking is that I can't do it so well anymore. Gone are the days of starting your night at midnight, drinking heavily until 2, then going to an after party and drinking till 5, then going home and crashing through the morning classes until waking up at noon.

Since becoming a dad, I've noticed that the night ENDS at midnight and that there is the constant looming thought of, "If Niamonster wakes up at her normal time, I'm screwed"

See... kids don't give a crap about your hangover. They don't care that every loud noise makes you want to swiftly jam a 3 pronged fork into each ear. Maybe the blood will act like earplugs. They don't care that your bowels are in overdrive and at any minute you may need to release the drunken goodness of the night before. (Yeah, it's gross, but we've all been there.) Especially if the meal that was had with the boozin' was Mexican.... which is funny because Mexican food always sounds way better then any other kind when there is alcohol in the mix.

So as a dad I drink less, I go out less often, and I can't remember the last time I was drunk.

Kids - the new AA.

Dreams can be funny. Isabella just had a dream that she was making out with me, and then 2 minutes later it wasn't me and someone saw her making out with some random dude who was ugly. Then that someone told everyone and no one wanted to be her friend anymore. She woke up perturbed.

I said, "Hunny, close your eyes." She did, and I kissed her. Then I said, "Open them... See? Still me!"

Silly dreams.

Swinger dreams seem to be the latest dream craze for a lot of my friends. Not sure how to take that.

A group of friends from work usually do trivia at a bar on Tuesday nights. Yesterday also happened to be St. Patty's day. We try to make up silly team names for ourselves each time we go. Yesterday we decided to hop in the wayback machine and mix with some Irish fun.

Our team name? "Ireland is great... for me to poop on!"

Oh yeah. We are the shining example of maturity.

You can't help but laugh at the fact that now that I'm a parent, all of the stuff I do, all the things I say and the thoughts I have... my parents had the same ones when I was a child.

Weird that as a kid, your parents are the shining examples. Now, you realize that they were just as lost and confused as you are now.

Funny...

Sorry this is late. I like to get posts out at 8am... but I was obviously out last night and didn't prepare one.

This is me, accepting the slap on my wrist.

Fear - It's all in your head.

2009-03-16T08:00:00.003-05:00

What scares you? What are the things that make you panic? Spiders? Snakes? Chickens? Little poopy diapers?

I've been thinking about fear lately and what makes people afraid.

"Why were you thinking about that?"

There have been a few things going on in my life lately that have made me sit and ponder this "fear" topic.

First, I've been trying to get more involved with the company my father works for. He works for a company that offers help, aid, care, and housing to people who are developmentally challenged. This ranges from group meetings all the way to 24 hour care. This brought my mind to fear because I think about the general demeanor of most people when they are near people who are developmentally challenged... they're scared pissless. They don't know how to act, where to look, what to say.

The other event that happened was actually yesterday. I got a call from my beautiful (and pregnant) sister-in-law (break: why the hell is the "-in-law" always hyphenated? waste.of.time.)... and she sheepishly tells me that my eldest brother is in the hospital awaiting surgery. Now the word "sheepishly" carries a lot of weight here because if you knew my sister-in-law, "sheepish" would be the last thing you would think. She is the most badass, free thinking, independent little ball of 5'2" you've ever met. So to have her sheepishly talking to me meant that she was very affected by this.

I was too. Upon seeing my brother laying in the bed at the hospital, I knew he had his "strong mask" on. The look that says, "Hey, guys, this is just another day. 30 minutes. In and out. I'll be fine!". But I have this connection with my brother and deep down I knew there was a little fear. Fear of anesthesia. Fear of surgery.

"Good Examples. What's your point?"

I came to the conclusion today that fear is genuinely caused by the unknown and by the things we don't understand. Take into consideration the general populous' fear of people with developmental disabilities. I'm comfortable in their presence (and I hope I in theirs), but that's because it's a part of my family's life. The average bear (no, not Homer to Wayland kind of bear) doesn't have much interaction in those situations so it's naturally scary.

Or take for instance a person who unfortunately has to be put under the knife more then once or twice in their life. They're probably a lot more laid back about anesthesia and going under then what my brother was.

I want to be fearless

I don't want Niamonster to fear many things. I want her to be alright with the unknown and then go out and learn about it, and become familiar with it. I'm not saying I want her to injure herself so that she can go to the hospital a lot, but I want her to know what things are so that she has little reason to be scared of them.

I think about a few times that I was scared but after learning about it lost that fear. (Hrm... should we go ordered or unordered today....) UNORDERED!

The night Niamonster was born, as much as the classes try to get you ready, the big day is still scary. However, after about 20 minutes of spending time with the nurse my fear was down to simple excitement. She walked us through every little step as it would happen or was happening. There was never a doubt in our mind about what was going on.
When I was 18 I had my tonsils taken out. It was the first time that I was going to be put under. When they wheeled me into the surgical suite, I was really scared... especially about not having control of my body. But the anesthesiologist came over, told exactly what was going to happen and even said, "The cocktail I'm going to give you will make you not puke when you wake up. That's a good thing. However, it's going to hurt like hell when it goes in. But by the time you care enough to say anything, you'll be out." He didn't lie.

(god i love lists)

Wheel of morality, turn, turn, turn, tell us the lesson that we should learn.

It is my goal to never turn away a question Niamonster has. I want to answer them all... even if she's just asking them to be annoying. If I can't answer them then we'll go to someone or somewhere that we can. I believe that the more she knows and understands, the less she'll have any chance to be scared.

Fatherhood Friday 4

2009-03-13T00:00:00.003-05:00

BEHOLD! WE ARE FATHERS AND WE ARE AWESOME!

Not too sure where that came from.

Today's Topic:
Sushi

I love me some sushi. And it's dangerous stuff too because you think to yourself, "Self, it's just a few little rolls, that's never going to fill you up." And you eat, and eat, and eat. Isabella and I have to watch ourselves because if we're not careful we'll easily run up a huge bill with trying all sorts of new kinds of ways to have seafood sit on rice.

...but it's so good.

I fully plan on introducing my daughter to sushi when she is old enough. I bet she'll love it just as much as her mom and dad do. I fully plan to go out to nice restaurants and gorge on sushi once a year, and then for the rest of the times go the cheap route and have mommy make the rolls or the rice beds. If you don't know how to make your own rolls or rice beds then I strongly encourage you to learn. You end up saving lots of money.

oh. suppose I should tie in the daddy thing somehow.

Seriously though, I think sushi is a great analogy for fatherhood. (does anyone else smell a list coming? I DO!)

It's not for everyone.
And it doesn't have to be. You can't judge a person if they don't want kids, just like you shouldn't judge if they don't want sushi.
It has tons of variety.
Think of all the different moods and demeanors a child has. They have so many millions and yet they're still learning more to boot. It's like a new menu of child every time they wake up in the morning. New menu, new prices, new style. Never gets old.
Price drastically increases with quality
I'm not looking for a flame war about the difference in quality between a 2 month old and a 2 year old. But let's take a moment and be honest with each other - a 2 month old is a eating, pooping, sleeping machina. A 2 year old has personality and verbal skills and can interact. But as they get older, they get more expensive.
It fills you up.
There is certainly no doubt that a child makes your life complete, fills you to brim with lots of things. Things like love, and slobber, and constipated poops, and ear bleeding screams.

... oh god... the ear bleeding screams.

Ready?
Top 3 Favorite Sushi/Roll/Sashimi Orders!
Go!

Unagi (Eel)
Ikiri (Salmon Roe)
Hon Maguro (Blue Fin Tuna)

What are yours?

Wacky Wednesday

2009-03-11T08:00:00.004-05:00

A little known fact about me: I have celiac disease. And not that "internet diagnosed" crap either. The real, medically diagnosed disease by people who know what it is and how to diagnose it. (Can you tell I'm sick of people who diagnose themselves because WebMD and Wikipedia told them so?)

So my wife and I were having a discussion about how the Catholic faith says that for the "host" to be considered Jesus, it has to have gluten in it (apparently Jesus needed a binding agent to keep him together, go figure...).

I started cracking jokes about how Jesus was actually a real bitch about his dinner and forced everyone to eat it, even if they had a gluten intolerance. "Simon Peter, did you just spit me out?! Put me back in your mouth this instant! Take and eat now!"

She looks at me and says, "Well that would certainly offer a compelling explanation for why Judas betrayed him."

So have you ever had a gift exchange where you ended up getting a gift that was worth way more then the gift you got that person?

It's such an embarrassing feeling, like you've completely cheated your way into having a much cooler present.

Take that feeling times a billion and you wonder if our new chief of state was feeling that as he handed off the plastic helicopters to our greatest ally as his daughters were getting fitted for their new hand sewn dresses. "Oh, and I know you're not into cinema that much, but here are 25 DVDs that you'll never watch."

Whoopsydoo!

Poor Prime Minister Brown, we just keep giving him crappy gift after crappy gift.

What I find funny is that this was barely, if at all mentioned in US news. Looks like our friends over in England thought this gaff was plenty newsworthy

Finally, I leave you with Episode One of Niamonster plotting to kill her mother.

Stop and Smell the Roses

2009-03-09T08:00:00.000-05:00

I've just realized that almost all of my Monday posts have been about certain areas within fatherhood that I struggle with or deal with on a daily basis.

Today, I'm going to mix things up a bit and write about something that I don't do enough of - that I believe as humans, none of us do enough of.

Stop. Look at what you've got. You've got the world.

There was an event that happened in my life which make me appreciate the little things in life a little more then your average bear. I won't go into detail but it involved a break-in, a loaded revolver, and the said loaded revolver hovering 6in from my chest. (I'll blog about it some other day.)

This event also made me a little more emotional. Guys are supposed to be hard-assed, logical, feeling-suppressed beings, right? Guns, booze, football, chicks, YEAH! RAR!

Not me. I'm a wuss.

I watch Extreme Home Makeover with my wife and I cry like a little girl. (Then again, anyone who wouldn't get emotional over that show has to be soul-less.)

Then I Had a Child.

And WHOA. MAN. Thought I was emotional then? It's far worse now. Now you tie in all the daddy emotions and it's about a billion times what it used to be.

Being a Daddy is Such a Blur.

Who out there remembers vividly the first three months of your child's life? I sure as heck don't. I look back and remember things but that memory is fuzzy (For instance, this picture. I really don't vividly remember her being that size). It wasn't that I didn't pay attention, it's just that, as a dad, you are suddenly placed into this position where the entire wellbeing of your child's life falls completely on your shoulders, and this responsibility comes with no road map so you're lost and you sure as hell aren't asking for directions. Wrap that up into the fact that your views, opinions, and goals in life just got tossed into a rock tumbler and you're in quite the dilly-doo.

Bring It Full Circle.

Although I've had events in my life that have made me realize the importence of slowing down, I still find myself watching it all whiz by me.

I took a moment the other day and damn near brought myself to tears. I stopped and thought about my life without my daughter. Knowing what I know now, knowing what I have now, knowing all the emotions tied up into her... what would it be like?

Empty.

The little two teeth that make her giant smile glimmering as I walk into the door from work. The excitement as I come back down the stairs for the seventeenth time while she's in the kitchen (Really? You aren't bored with this?). Her morning yelps for "dah dah dah" and her nuzzling into my chest as I hold my sleepy-baby. Her belly laugh that sounds like a choking hyenna. All these things make my life full.

Not any amount of money, not any sort of job, not any possesions... nothing could replace that feeling.

Take a moment.

Doesn't have to be now (though it is a good time)... but if you are lucky enough to have a child or two or six...

...stop...

Knowing what you know now... what would your life be like if they never existed?

Appreciate those things more the life itself.

Fatherhood Friday

2009-03-06T10:27:00.005-06:00

Welcome to Friday of the Fatherhood variety.

I hate work. I hate work because it takes me away from Niamonster. I hate work because she knows I leave every morning and she hates it. I hate work because it's a whole 9-10 hours that I'm not apart of her life.

Don't get me wrong, I love my job - I find great personal enjoyment in sitting in front of my dual eye-blistering 26" monitors with a computer that could quad-process the panties off of a Mormon in .12ms, and writing code that is complex and requires a depth of knowledge that most people don't even want to have in the computer world.

But since Niamonster was born, it somehow isn't about me anymore. So that fact that I'm getting enjoyment out of work at, as what I view, the expense of the raising of my child is something that I've had to think a lot about.

It just feels that when I say that I'm the "provider" of the family, it feels like a cop-out. Money is such a "blah" sort of thing because when I die I don't get to take it with me - - - so why is it such a focus of a family?

I've been playing a little in my hypothetical head lately. What if I were to just pack up my family, sell almost all of my possessions, hop in my car, and head west? Complete beatnik/hippy style. I know my family has lots of love and common sense so that we really wouldn't need a huge source of income. It's a total "damn the man" feeling, but is it so bad?

Have I become the person that is so wrapped up in material things and status that I've fallen into the stereotype of "provider" who's sole purpose is to go out and make money for his daughter and family?

So here lies the conundrum in my head: How do I balance the "provider", the "protector" and the "lover" into a nice little package called a "great dad"?

It's nice to know that I'm not the only one. Since I've started introducing myself to other dads who blog, I've noticed that this is a common internal thought within a lot of fathers.

What "balance" internal wars have you had?

What is your "damn the man" dream?

Wacky Wednesday

2009-03-04T08:00:00.005-06:00

Multiple people have made fun of me for the number of blogs I currently maintain. Jokes usually fall in between the "you need more friends" to "you are a nerd", and even to the point of, "you're not allowed to make any more posts until you hang out with normal people". What makes this rich is that 60% of those people have since then started their own personal blogs.

Talk about the pot calling the kettle chartreuse.

My wife is sitting next to me in bed right now. She just leaned to the side, dropped a big stinky fart with a giant shit eating grin and said, "Look hunny, I'm contributing to your post."

Yes, dear. Yes you are.

You ever stay at work so long that you start to get silly beyond belief? Working in the wonderful world of web application development, you can't just deploy your application at anytime you want. You have to do it when the least amount of people are hitting the site. This is so that just in case you muck something up, the fewest number of people are effected.

Monday was a big deployment day. The day started as any other, with polite office style conversations and happy thoughts. By the end of the night we were singing 80's music, playing guitar hero like idiots, and laughing about the stupidest stuff.

Deployment -> success.

Niamonster figured out she can crawl side ways today. She put her spoon on the middle of the floor tonight and was circling around it repetitively like she was tied to a pole by a string. I'm surprised she didn't make herself hurl.

That would have been awesome to cleanup.

Finally, I like to buy random things on ebay here and there. Mostly computer parts that allow me to stay close enough to the "latest" tech crap without destroying my bank account. Usually items I receive from auctions are in a box or some other sort of obvious packaging.

Yesterday I received a package that was completely wrapped in Sunday's coupons and clear packing tape.

It was the awesomest package ever.

(Sub-finally. I just laughed that Blogspot tried to spell correct "awesomest" with "Awesome St." Someday I want to live there or at least drive on it.)

Monday Monday (dah dahhh dah dah dah dah)

2009-03-02T08:00:00.003-06:00

Oh the joys of Monday! Let me list them here.

...

Okay! Great list!

Why DOES Monday always take the crap end of the stick? Sure, it's the end of the weekend, but it's also the beginning of a week. I think Monday should talk to its union reps and get more recognition as a decent day.

Today's Topic: Money (and saving it)

As a dad, I have no money. Ok that's a lie, I have LESS money then I want. It probably has something to do with the little Niamonster running around and pooping in all of it. Then there is the daycare or the lack of income from a stay at home spouse and baby sitting expenses.

If having a kid were a business opportunity the world would die off very quickly because no one in their right mind would invest.

But holy crap, here we are investing our time, our lives, and our money into the little monsters that we love more then life itself. And holy crap, we're happy!

Worry Wart

But if you're anything like me, it doesn't stop you from worrying about your financial well being. If anything, it makes you worry about it more. Think back to the days when you made a stupid overly expensive purchase and then had to live off ramen for the next week. That was ok back then. Make a stupid purchase now and your child suffers... and that's just not allowed.

Save more. Spend less.

It's no joke that our economy blows hard chunks right now. I don't care whether it was the previous president blowing tons of money overseas or whether it's the current president spending 2 trillion in 30 days, I only care about the now... and the now sucks.

So, as a parent, what do you do? Isabella and I have come up with some money saving ideas, and surprisingly enough they mostly revolve around educating and informing yourself, and common freaking sense. (yes. freaking. not the regular kind.)

I love lists.

Keep track of all of your bills.
- Use Excel or Open Office Calc (it's free. http://www.openoffice.org ) and write up a list of your bills that you have to pay each month. Then for each month create a new spread sheet with the same bills and their updated costs. This gives you a good idea of where your money goes each month.
- When you pay off bills, change the text to Italics.
- If you want to get real fancy, write up some equations to calculate total money spent on bills and subtract it from your monthly income.
- In a different column, write up your "budgeted items" Food, gas, etc. and subtract that from your total income as well.
- Finally, in yet another column, list your "one time expenses". Date night, destist office, that toy at Best Buy you had to have. Obviously subtract that from your income column too.
-Find a centralized location where you can save this file. Whether on your favorite web host or on a personal server, make this file available to every decision maker in your family.
Check your bank account balance daily.
- If you aren't online banking yet, you need to get into the 2009s. I don't want to hear about online security and how everyone is sniffing your paketz and haxing your systmz. I work in the business and if someone if fast enough, smart enough, and wise enough to crack the encryption surrounding your bank account, the I doubt they'd be wasting their time going after YOUR account. (Unless you are a multi-millionaire which in that case you're probably worried more about Obama taking your money then a hacker. bah-zing!)
- The point of this is to make sure you know where all of your money is going and that there is no authorized or unauthorized person spending your money stupidly.
- Make sure both you and your spouse of equal access and visibility to the account and that you are both checking it daily. You BOTH need to be informed. (if applicable)
Clip Coupons
- Buy the Sunday paper. (it's $1.00 a paper here)
- Clip the coupons.
- Use the coupons.
- Save money!
(Could saving money get any easier then clipping up paper?)
Buy Smart Bulk
- "Smart Bulk" meaning use your silly head! Don't buy bologna in bulk, it'll probably go bad before you can eat it all. Then you aren't saving money, you're wasting. However, if you are paper towel whores (as our family is), then it is WAY cheaper to buy a bazillion pack from Sams Club then it is to buy them individually. Plus it wont rot!
Don't! Eat! Out!
- (No, not that. Keep going on that... she likes it.) I'm talking about going out to eat at restaurants. Yes, they are convenient. Yes, they do your dishes. Yes, it's nice to get waited on. But it is as expensive as two donkey nuts. (not even sure how much that would cost, actually)
- Food + Drink + Tip = You're broke.
- Special occasions excluded (date night, anniversary, etc.)
Less meat. More Filler.
- Instead of 1 portion of meat, a veg, and some starch for each person, try a half portion of meat with some extra starch. It fills more and costs less.

These are just a few things that Isabella and I do to make sure we stay on top of our finances so that we have plenty of money to Niamonster. She's our cash-hoover now and that's what we gladly live for.

What little things do you do to save money?

Fatherhood Friday - Who are you?

2009-02-27T00:00:00.000-06:00

Welcome to another installment of Fatherhood Friday!

Today I'm going to tackle the ever-untalked-about-topic: Other Hotties

(Forgive me, I'll probably write "her" a lot, but know that I am aware and sensitive to the dad/dad combos out there... so if you're a dad/dad then just read the "her" as "him". Oh I guess if you're a female reader then replace the "her" with "him too. Unless you're a mom/mom combo then keep the "her"... jesus... did I cover my ass enough?)

You know what I'm talking about, dads. The good looking moms (or dads) that adorn you with those eyes of safety because you are running around with a child. Or those just turned 18 year olds that seem to stay the same age while you get older.

How many times have you had the internal monologue with yourself: "Yeah, I'd do her"

Now I'm not saying you should proclaim this to your wife at every possible moment because that does have the potential of wearing away at her self confidence, but I am firmly convinced that letting your wife know that you still know what "beauty" is, I believe, lets her know that when you say she is beautiful... you aren't lying.

Have your Top 5

(switch hit top 5 optional)

What is the Top 5? This is a list of 5 people of the opposite sex that if they showed up at your front door, said "Hi. I want to go on a date with you, and I expected you to have sex with me at the end of the night." then you have a free-pass. A free pass meaning that your wife has to be "ok" with it, and a free pass meaning that you would never leave your wife over it.

Rules of the Top 5:

This list must be ranked in order of how long you would ponder/rationalize whether or not you would actually do it, with the top one being the least amount of time.
It absolutely CANNOT be anyone that you know personally. No ex-girlfriends, no girl down the streets, no one easily accessible.
There can be only 5
The person who comes to the door must be on the list for at least a month.
They have to be alive and must be recognized in their current state. (No "Marilyn Monroe" or "1980's version Madonna")
Your significant other must be aware of the list at all times.

My Top 5:

Natalie Portman
Lisa Sheldon (Roxy Model)
Chyler Leigh
Tyra Banks (the now, thicker version)
Gwen Stefani

But even with the top 5...

I told my wife one night, "You know... you're the only person in this world that I would never have second thoughts about banging. I would never have to justify myself to myself that it is ok. Because it's always ok and always awesome."

So at first read I bet that looks like I was going to get pimp-smacked.

But she took it as a compliment. Because even if Natalie Portman came knocking on my door, at the end of the night it would still take some time for me to have to rationalize in my head that what I was doing was ok.

... even if it only would take 3 seconds.

Wacky Wednesday

2009-02-25T08:25:00.001-06:00

I think I've nailed down what I want each day to represent in this blog.

Monday is the serious, hunker down, be a good dad and post something useful day.

Wednesday will be "Wacky Wednesday". A day where I post stupid shit to make you laugh. (obviously on topic with Monkeys and Daddies) (oh, and it will probably be very "ADD" as well)

Friday, as already specified, will be Fatherhood Fridays (ah-thank you dad-blogs)

So today is Wednesday... get ready for the Whacking.... er Whacky.

You know you've married the right person when you wake up and hear her humming the

theme song from the A-Team (dun duh duh duuun dun dun dunnnn). When asked just how she possibly got that song in her head she proceeded to tell me about a dream she had where she was in the Navy and they had pulled into port which was a prop house (like on a movie set) so the walls were fake and that the Cajun Chef was there and that evolved into her thinking about Chef's with catch phrases which led to thinking of Emeril (whom she hates), and then in a general thought about people past their prime who should stop doing what they are doing cause they are starting to suck at it (cough cough Madonna). To which she started thinking about Mr. T and how he actually left prime but came back - to which the A-Team song popped in her head.

Yup. That's my wife.

Niamonster has taken akin to using her little nails as her personal Ninjatō (look it up), which she likes to flail around and slash people with. So far she has two victims, Isabella and myself. Isabella had her face sliced open (complete with blood) and I had my neck slit open.

Pretty awesome.

Finally, I leave you with this.