I think we're alone now..

Occasionally, and by "occasionally" I mean only on Mondays, Saturdays, Wednesdays, Fridays, Thursdays, Sundays, and Tuesdays, I find myself awake sitting on the couch while Meggan and Sophie are curled up snoring next to me. I normally never quite know when the transition occurs from me and my wife enjoying TV together to me watching TV alone while she enjoys a nice nap. Almost invariably, and tonight is no exception, the only notice I receive that her night is over is her silence in response to my question or comments. So, I figured rather than talking to myself, I'd post whatever I was thinking on here...which is basically typing to myself, yet it doesn't feel as pathetic as it sounds.

1) How can the guy on So You Think You Can Dance say has never worked out before in reference to his muscular build? I just watched him press a girl over his head, leap in circles around a stage, and do a back flip. In what universe does that not count as working out?!?

2) Why did I just see a preview for ANOTHER show about a sassy nurse who knows more and is tougher than all the doctors in the show? Nurse Jackie, Hawthorne, Mercy, etc. How many shows about nurses can America take?!? Oh wait, that's right, we somehow keep Vh1 on the air when all it shows is dating shows based on castoffs from its other dating shows.

3) Speaking of dating shows....More to Love...Really?!? A dating show that claims to be a show about "Real Women" and that proves "Love comes in all shapes and sizes". What I don't understand is why everyone on the show is heavy. I have no problem with the stated premise of the show, but if they really want to show that love comes in all sizes, shouldn't they have ALL sizes? Shouldn't there be some heavy women, a couple uncomfortably tall girls, an Olsen twin, perhaps a little person or two, and all the flavors in between? And I'm not even going to get into the fact that apparently loves comes in different sizes, but pretty much all the same color.

4) Why can my daughter roll around for 8 consecutive hours in her sleep and apparently roll from one end of her daycare classroom to the other, yet not roll 1 inch for me? She rolls around for Meggan. Hell, she probably even rolls around for Sophie. But, if I put her on her stomach, she just lays there like a pile of dirty laundry.

5) My day started off by me finding out I have issues in my lower back, which apparently are not reversible. Am I THAT old?!? Is this the beginning of the end of my very mediocre, completely unpaid sports career?!? While this may put a damper on some people, I am taking the half glass full approach and hoping I can use this to get out of some housework.

Well, that's about it for tonight. I thank you all for listening.

Where oh where can my baby be?

Each day, Mia grows a bit closer to being a kid and a bit further from being a baby. Without a doubt, these changes are eagerly awaited by her parents. These new tricks she learns are mostly fun, with the occasional grabbing a full glass of iced tea and throwing it on the kitchen floor thrown in. However, today at church, it became very apparent that the new Mia is 1) here to stay and 2) a hell of a lot more work than the old one. While the pastor was giving a sermon on inviting Christ into your heart, Amelia was squirming in Meggan's lap and giving a sermon of her own. It got to the point where she was doing so much talking that I had to take her out into the lobby and listen to the rest from there. If I held her on my left side, she wanted to be on my right. If I held her straight up, she wanted to lean back. And, regardless of how she was sitting, she had plenty to say and plenty of volume with which to say it. There was a part of me that couldn't help but laugh. It certainly seemed to entertain the other lobby inhabitants. Yet, throughout all the fun, I couldn't shake the feeling that today was the beginning of the end of Baby Mia and the start of Mia, a slobbering, yet sophisticated young lady.

The Baby Who Cried Sick

There once was a little baby girl who had two very loving parents. These parents were new, so they weren't the hardest to fool. One day, the baby girl began pulling on her ears and fussing all night. So, her loving parents did the only thing they knew - they took her to the doctor. After careful examination, the doctor said the precious baby was the picture of health. This discouraged her parents, but they pressed on. A month or so later, this sweet little angel once again began tugging on her ears and fussing. A cough here and a cough there later, she was back in the doctor's office. This time she MUST be sick. Certainly, she wouldn't take advantage of her parents' eagerness to protect her and their innate ability to overreact again...would she? YES, indeed she would. Another walk of shame from the pediatrician's office for mom and dad. Amelia is now officially the baby who cried ear infection. The moral of this story? Well, it's twofold - 1) we are really lame, overprotective parents 2) Mia's ears will have to fall off before I take her to the doctor again. So, if any of you see her walking around without ears, you will know what happened.

all grown up

Occasionally, I enjoy being an adult. There is a power in the wisdom of it. However, there are days when I feel the pressure of it gets extremely old. On those days I don't want a career, a mortgage, or any other responsibilities (excluding Amelia as I love every moment with her). I just want it to be a summer morning, no school tomorrow, and nowhere to be except wherever I want to go. Obviously, I know part of being a husband and a father is embracing these responsibilities. And, I certainly take my role seriously when it comes to facing them...but, it sure would be nice to be a kid again for a week or so.

Sleeping Beauty

I can't ever remember waking up thinking "Hot damn, I get to work 12+ hours today!", but I have to admit....it REEEAALLLY sucks when I do that now that Amelia is here. There is no worse feeling than seeing her for 5 minutes in the morning and then having her be asleep when I get home. It's like the day is lost.

Old Yeller

Can anyone explain to me why my child is the only one in her class, in church, in the store, or anywhere else I go that is wearing a bib.... AT ALL TIMES?!? We don't put her in bibs as a weird punishment or a bold fashion statement. We make her wear them because she drools more than any human, particularly a tiny human, ever should. Seriously, if she doesn't wear a bib, she'll soak through her onesie faster than a Panama City wet t-shirt contest. Do you have any idea how much you have to drool before it reaches a point where it leaves a red, dry patch on your face??? The obvious response to this slobbery mystery is "she's teething". Well... 1) She has no other signs of teething and 2) so what?!? all the other kids in her class are teething as well. They aren't salivating like rabid dogs. I swear to you, Sophie won't even go near her because she said she watched Old Yeller as a puppy and doesn't want any part of that.

Up is Down!!! Down is Up!!!

People, mark this day on your calendars. Tonight may go down as the only night in history in which I am surfing the net reading baby articles (the effect television has on young babies) while Meggan is crunching numbers on an Excel spreadsheet. Let's just say 99% of my work life is spent in Excel while 99% of Meggan's nights are spent surfing the net reading baby articles. If any of you catch Meggan watching college football while I am looking through a cupcake cookbook.....please come save us.

The Stand-Ins

Amelia: Since dad has been sick, Sophie and I decided we'd take another stab at blogging. He's getting old and it's only a matter of time until we have to take over anyways. As usual, we aren't the most prepared bloggers, so we'll just have to wing it.

Sophie: Who didn't prepare?!? Maybe you didn't, but I have all my notes here. I've got a whole blog prepared on positive effects dogs have on the current fractured state of American families.

Amelia: ZZZZZ. Oh, I'm sorry, I fell asleep just thinking about that blog post.

Sophie: Oh, geez, I apologize, please entertain us you diaper wearing blog jester.

Amelia: I just prefer to keep it light. I thought we could just have a nice, sisterly conversation. You know, what's new with me, what's lame, old, and boring with you.

Sophie: How very sisterly of you. So, what's new?

Amelia: Well, most notably, I'm moving into the world of solid foods.

Sophie: Wow, congrats. I was eating solid foods the day they brought me home. It only took you an extra 4 months. How are you liking it?

Amelia: Sweet potatoes are like tiny spoonfuls of heaven...bananas are the biggest disappointment of my young life.

Sophie: Considering I get the same damn thing to eat every single day, I can't say I feel sorry for you. Not to mention, the fact that bananas are your biggest disappointment shows everyone exactly how "rough" your life is.

Amelia: As if Sally Struthers needs to host a charity drive for you? You sleep on 500 thread-count sheets! Besides, what is your biggest disappointment? Let me guess.....the day you found out that Jack-A-Poo is to designer dog breeds what Wrangler is to designer jeans?

Sophie: Actually, no. For me, it all boils down the 3 little words I overheard one morning...."Randall, I'm pregnant" . You want to talk about disappointed?? That ranks up there with when I found out Scrappy Doo wasn't a real dog and thus couldn't be my boyfriend.

Amelia: That's a shame. I'm sure you could have reeled him in with the way you rock that 'Yeah, I'm a girl...and I've got a full beard... So what?" look.

Sophie: I can shave the beard, you'll still be a fat little roly poly.

Amelia: Well, I'm glad to see that once again you've proven to be completely impossible to talk to. I'm out of here. I'm going to watch Entourage with dad.

Sophie: Thank God she's out of here. Now, I can finally get to my blog...In the modern American family, there are no more dinners at the table, no more games of catch in the yard, no more.....damn, the baby was right. This is boring.

Genetics

I wonder who Amelia got her beautiful blue eyes from?.... Let's see...her mom has gorgeous blue eyes while if mine looked any more like a turd, you'd have to flush them.

too bored for my own good

Off topic for the blog, but I'm bored so...

As I've mentioned on here before, I'd love to find a career that I am overly passionate about. Since this is a dream proposition, I don't have to rule out any fields based on practicality alone. For instance, I am freakishly claustrophobic in real life, but in my dream job I can be a pilot. However, while watching The Next Food Network Star tonight I realized that I can indeed eliminate chef as an option. I just don't get it. Can someone explain to me why in the world they want to cook for a living?!? It's a chore. Nobody goes to special schools to learn how to do laundry or take out the garbage. Look, I love eating food as much as the next guy, but I get zero joy out of cooking it. I get that cooking or grilling can occasionally be a therapeutic experience, but that does not justify me wanting to do it night in and night out...for other people. Hey, if you want to work the night shift and smell like burnt meat every night, good for you. I just know this one is getting crossed off my list.

Return from the dead

To all the readers of this blog - both of you, we will be back to posting regularly soon. I have been under the weather this week, so I have not felt up to it. Actually, I'm still under the weather, which explains why I am quarantined in my bedroom right now attempting to keep Amelia from getting sick. Sophie has been a wonderful nurse throughout this illness...and by nurse, I mean she has found it in her heart to lay directly on top of me for 3 straight days not doing much to help my fever. Oh well, at least she tries.

Kid Glasses

One of the greatest joys of being a dad is being lucky enough to get to see the world through your child's eyes. I use the word 'lucky' because the older I get, the more obvious it becomes that things are just so much better when you are a kid. Rather than trying to be poetic and talking about how the fingerprints of time smudge the windows to our past, etc. I'll keep it much more simple and just say to think of your favorite shows as a kid - shows/movies that you haven't seen since then and watch them now... 9 times out of 10, they will fail miserably at living up to expectations. This has happened to me with Fraggle Rock, The Smurfs, Macgyver, and a host of others. It is currently happening to me while watching Crocodile Dundee II. I thought I had found heaven when they re-released all the old video games. Of course, about 5 minutes into Space Invaders I thought "holy crap, I can't take this any more. It is the same exact thing over and over and over...". Perhaps the best example of how your nostalgia skews the truth comes when you visit what were once the coolest places on Earth to you. You realize your childhood bedroom that once seemed gigantic is actually the size of your current walk-in closet. That tree you could never quite conquer because it was 100 feet tall must have started shrinking because it is barely 20 feet now. And please, don't get me started on what I used to call a "creek" behind my house or the "fort" I built on it. No matter how many childhood favorites I think of, this pattern repeats. I suppose when I sit down and think about it, the only things that have truly worn well with time ...are the memories.

Happy Birthday

What kind of impact does a father have on a child? A profound one - either by action or inaction, by availability or invisibility, by nature or nurture. Dads don't have a choice in the matter. Everything they do, everything they are, and the legacy they leave behind will serve as formidable pillars in shaping their children's lives. Perhaps the best example I know is my own dad. Tomorrow is/would be his 72nd birthday. It's hard for me to really grasp that concept as he died 25 years ago at the young age of 47. I was only 5 years old at the time, so my memories of him are few and far between. This reality exactly underscores my point. He was a man I barely ever knew, yet I have loved him every day of my life. I can think of only a few times spent with him, yet I have missed him unendingly for 25 years. I do not recall a single second of celebration during the birthdays or Father's Days during his life, yet every year when those days roll around, I say a special prayer to God thanking him for his life and the subsequent impact he had on mine. I was too young for him to impart any of his ideals, hopes, or dreams on me, yet the first question I asked on my only visit to his grave site as an adult was "Have I made you proud of me?". The one crystal clear memory I have is one that I will carry with me into my days of fatherhood. Late during my dad's battle with cancer he was no longer strong enough to walk all the way to my bus stop. So, he would go as far as he could and wait for me about half way. The magnitude of that effort was beyond my 5-year old comprehension. Now, being a father myself, I finally understand how precious those few moments were. While my dad may not have been doing anything more than trying to see his youngest son while he still could, he was inadvertently teaching me that regardless of the fight at hand, when it comes to your children, sometimes it's worth the effort. It is these lessons, often taught unknowingly, that leave the longest lasting impressions. And these are the lessons dads teach on a daily basis whether or not they want to, mean to, or even know it.

a new sheriff in town

In observance of the 4th of July, Randall and Meggan will be taking the day off from blogging. In their absence I, Sophie, along with the smelly baby, will be running the blog.

Sophie: Hey baby, my first point of order as the new Blog President is to clear up any misconceptions that I am not an adorable creature. So, as proof, I submit these pictures of me as a puppy:




Amelia: I must admit...you were a cute puppy.
Sophie: Thank you, baby.
Amelia: Of course all this does is beg the question..."what in the world happened to you?" Have you been on the Keith Richards plan for health and happiness or something??
Sophie: I resent that! I think I have held up quite nicely. Look baby, it's easy to look good when you are your age. Get back to me after you have some miles on your tires like I do and we'll see how good you look.
Amelia: Miles on your tires? How old ARE you?
Sophie: I'm 3... 3 hard earned years.
Amelia: Holy crap! I had no idea. how old do you think Dad is?
Sophie: Nobody knows for sure. But, judging by the beginnings of crow's feet and the receding hair line, I'd guess .... 8, maybe even 9.
Amelia: 8?!? 9?!? That's almost dead!
Sophie: I know, baby. Pretty soon it'll be just us. So, you'd better get your act together because this dog doesn't do diapers.