Conner's world

A conversation in the car on the way to school today:
Conner: "One day I was in the yard and I heard a big thunder. I ran inside and Abbey gave me emalade.* That cooled me off."
Maggie: "How did emalade cool you off?"
Conner: "Maggie, you're not in this story."

*Emalade, if you didn't know, is lemonade. We don't correct him because it's just too cute.

It's all about the teeth

Our anniversary was yesterday, and Maggie asked Pat if we were getting each other gifts. He said no, we were going out to dinner, but we don't usually give gifts. Her response?

"You guys need to save your money to fix my teeth anyway."

Obsessed

Conner is obsessed with Slash (the lead guitartist of Guns N' Roses and now Velvet Revolver - don't worry, I had to look up the second part).

We've had to listen to "Welcome to the Jungle" enough that I can't stand the song anymore. He'll listen to "Sweet Child of Mine" sometimes, but you're not allowed to sing along - Slash doesn't like that.

Conner plays air guitar or uses pieces of wood, Nerf guns, whatever, as his guitar. He's already planning to be Slash for Halloween.

Yesterday, he announced that he is going to form his own band. The name: Love Handle.

He says he'll be the one in the purple hat.

Golf, chipmunks and ice cream

For your reading pleasure: another batch of e-mails from Pat.


Jan. 3, 2008
Conner is a little confused about the terms used in golf. He was in the yard with his driver, and he was hitting plastic golf balls. The neighbors really like that we switched to these. He was hitting them pretty well. Each time he hit, he was taking a PGA-style divot. We're not even going to get into the fact that the driver isn't supposed to dig into the ground.

After he finished removing the sod from the yard, he told me, "Look, Dad, I made little tunnels." I told him that those were divots, and he explained to me that these were tunnels. He even went so far as to tell me that I am wrong. He used those exact words: YOU ARE WRONG.

I really appreciate you passing on the gene that makes you right in your own mind even when you are completely wrong. I also love the gene that you passed to him that gives him the ability to make you wonder whether he's right and that all these years I've been wrong. When he gets older, some woman will fix that for him.

It also doesn't help that Abbey and Maggie took his side on this one. As payback to them, I am serving vegetables only for dinner.


Jan. 14, 2008
To date, I am still cooler than you. As we were driving home from the Brownies meeting -- where, by the way, I was the only male in attendance. That was truly the estrogen ocean. I swear that I think I got a dirty look from one of the mothers just for being a man in a group of women. The troop leader was trying to make all the moms feel good and repeated several times that the girls will be safe on the upcoming camping trip. My first reaction was that Maggie will be safer there. Everytime she enters this house she is in danger of an injury of somekind. This is a vacation from being in this nutso house.

Back to the orginial story. We were listening to Radio Disney and Alvin and Chipmucks were singing the "Witch Doctor" song, and I knew all the words. The girls were very impressed, or at least Maggie was. I think that I have entered the "My Dad is an embarrassment" stage with Abbey. I explained to them that the Chipmunks have been around a while. This did not help me at all. Now I'm an embarrassment and old. Conner was just dancing in his carseat like the Caddieshack gopher.

You are the leader of your team at work and the leader of this house. Your children and your husband look up to. But until you can sing all the verses of "The Witch Doctor," you are second fiddle when it comes to being cool in this house. By the way, it goes "Ooh ee ooh aa aa ting tang walla walla bing bang." Here is a link so that this will be in you head for the rest of the night.
http://tinyurl.com/n6pfsh


Feb. 28, 2008
I don't know this for a fact, but I would bet that the founder of Anheuser-Busch and Miller Brewing had at least one daughter.



March 18, 2008

Your hidden inventory of Klondike bars has been found. Not by me but by the boy.

He was completely unimpressed with the entrees that I presented for this afternoon's feeding. So he got a chair from the kitchen table and took it to the freezer. He moved several things, and when he found the Klondike bars, he yelled for me to come here. He pointed to them and told me, "See, we got some."

I told him that those were Mommy's and he then told me, "It's OK, she loves me." He doesn't seem to care that you will not love me if he eats them. He is fine with that.

How do I know this, you ask? He is in the living room with two of them as we speak. I asked him if we should share with the girls, and he said no. He then took the box and placed it back under the frozen pizzas. Hidden from the girls.

I can hear the chair going back to the freezer, so I had better go so I at least get one.

The Dark (Blue) Side

Conner: Is Darth Vader a Carolina fan?

Me: No, he's a Duke fan.

Not just a pretty face

This evening after we finished dinner, we decided that a game of touch football was in order. For the record, Cathy is working the late shift tonight.
The teams were boys against girls. Now, before we continue, I must tell you that we are a very competitive family, and these games get ugly in a hurry.
The game was going well for a couple of series. I told Abbey that she needed to get Maggie involved in the game. On the next play, Abbey tossed the ball to Maggie, and she threw a perfect pass to Abbey for a touchdown. This particular play is what is called a turning point in the game. Maggie was hyped up.
After Abbey kicked off, I received the ball and was looking to hand it off to Conner. Maggie came out of nowhere and dropped me like third-period French. I mean, she totally pancaked me.
My first reaction was to slap Abbey on the butt and say nice job, but it was Maggie. My next thought was to look around and make sure none of the neighbors saw it.
Maggie jumped up and said, "Gotcha, Dad!"
Maybe I won't need to buy a gun for the future boyfriends after all.

Lordy, lordy ...

... Shelley's 40!

She's proving she's not old by running The Bear - a 5-mile run up Grandfather Mountain (http://www.hopeformarrow.org/bearinfo.htm) with Mark and Kim.

I'm impressed, but I will not be doing that on my 40th.

Oh, Conner

Conner's newest dessert creation: chocolate ice cream on a toasted hot dog bun. His favorite lunch lately: a pickle sandwich. Ugh. He has an iron stomach just like his dad.

* * *

I ran an errand last week and was gone for about 10 minutes. When I got back, he came into the kitchen and in his best Southern accent said, "Damn, that was fast."

* * *

I got him a doughnut at Krispy Kreme last week, and when I handed him his bag, he opened it and said,"Holy crap! Awesome! Just what I wanted!"

I'll take responsibility for some of what comes out of his mouth, but not all of it.

Getting ahead

We've neglected the blog during soccer and T-ball season, and we have another weekend with at least four soccer games and two T-ball games coming up (did I mention three of the games are in Wilmington?). Here are some old e-mails Pat has sent me - now we're ahead and Oliver won't have to yell at us. :)


May 31, 2007
This house, this one location, is the sock capital of the USA. I have taken calls from Thor-lo, Hanes, Nike and Adidas. They are not impressed that we have a corner on the cotton market. They have asked that we stop buying socks for the children so that the cotton industry can take a break. They are also asking if Abbey can be paid as a sponsor. She has 45 pairs of socks, all from different companies. They are looking for some product loyalty. As a sidebar, she has 52 socks that do not have matches. As a family, we have 125 unmatched socks. Where in the hell are the other 125? You would think that a pile like that would stand out a touch. I have checked under beds, in toy boxes, around the laundry room, in couch cushions, in pillow cases and even under mattresses. They nowhere to be seen.
It is my expert opinion that we have a large family of woodland creatures holed up somewhere in the house and resting comfortably in a two-bedroom ranch cotton house. Why a ranch, you ask? Because cotton may be durable, but it doesn't make a good two-story house.


June 11, 2007
Maggie has come up with an innovative new way to potty train Conner. She says that we should get him on the potty ready to go. We should then tickle him until he pees. They are a few minor obstacles, however, and here are the solutions as well.
Conner will move around a bit causing a fire hose effect. Boys do not have the correct plumbing for this move. Solution from Maggie: Put a towel over him and use a seatbelt on him.
Can you just see me in the bathroom strapping Conner to the toilet?
This will become a learned response. Solution from Maggie: We can take turns with him in the bathroom.
What I do not need is a teenager who needs to be tickled everytime he has had a lot of water. I do not have enough money for the hours of therapy that will be needed to fix that.
While the whole tickling thing has its merit, I think that we will stick with the traditional ways. The loud rumbling you feel underground is Dr. Spock rolling over in his grave.


June 22, 2007
Abbey is washing and folding clothes. She is doing all the laundry. Mine, yours and the kids' clothes. She is taking the clothes to the respective rooms and putting them away. I have no idea why. She was not asked by me to do it; she just is. She says that she is trying to help me, but I really don't believe her. She just got the vacuum cleaner and is actually using it and using it correctly. Conner just told her, "No, that's Daddy's vacuum." I am truly scared. Nothing good can come from this.


July 16, 2007
Your son just pantsed me. He loved it. He actually laughed until he fell down. One of those belly laughs. Neither of the girls is taking credit for his new knowledge. Being the adult of the house and the level-headed person that I am, I pantsed him back. He ran into the room and told
Abbey, like a good little snitch. Abbey came to me and told me not to do that anymore and it is not fair to do that to him since he is little. I actually felt bad even though I explained that he did it first. Apparently the adult of the house when you are not here is Abbey.


Sept. 10, 2007
Conner was concerned about the dental hygiene of the bathroom sink today. He emptied the toothpaste into the sink and used his toothbrush to eliminate all cavities and the bad breath that the sink will have from time to time. Your son is cute, handsome and all that, but Ivy League is only happening if it is athletic.


Sept. 11, 2007
There is a new rule in the house, or at least enforcement of an old rule. As the ranking minority leader of this house, the rule is as follows:
The men of the house are not allowed to leave the house with toenails painted. We are manly men. (I realize that in the International House of Women, our house, there will be times that painted toenails on the men will happen. I am all for practicing on me or the boy.) The reason for this rule is that the boy seems to like it and he just asked me to do his fingers. He also requested a color.
There are a lot of things that we will do for the women of this house. We will put the seat down, replace the toilet paper, knock before entering a room, hold doors open, use good manners at the table, farting and burping we will hold to a mininum, we will try not to make women/girls cry and not drink directly from milk jug.
The men of this house are standing up for our gender. Enforcement of this rule will begin today.
This is, of course, if you are OK with it. We are men but not totally stupid.


Oct. 1, 2007
Since you are sooo busy doing your job I will update you as to the progress in Maggie's and Abbey's rooms. All their clothes are cleaned, folded and sorted. They are in four laundry baskets. I was not aware that we had four laundry baskets until I went into the girls' rooms. Your mission, if you choose to accept it, is to get Maggie's clothes put away with her assistance. She will be happy to help, mostly because her future residencey in this home rests on it.
It is an impossible mission because we could all move out of this house and give all the square footage to Maggie and there is not enough room for her clothes. I have checked her dressers, and they are full. For God's sake, this child could live in the Biltmore and she would have it full in a week.
I have picked her up from school for a couple of months now, and she has not worn the same outfit twice. The teachers at the school have a pool to see if Maggie can make it the whole semester. I have twenty in it that says she can. I have inside info that she could make it the whole year.
Now, as for Abbey's room. This is the world champ at being a pack rat. I have found clay projects and paintings from preschool. She has apparently been practicing putting up there because there was about a dozen golfballs under the bed and dressers. For the love of all that is holy, can we throw out the trash can load of shoes from the last five years in her closet? She is not going to shrink in foot size.
Currently I am putting my soap box away because your son is peeing in the yard.

The Hustler

Conner and I just got finished playing the Wii. We played golf, tennis and baseball. He is not great at these but respectable. I kicked his butt. Yes, I'm a real cool dad, I beat a 4-year-old like a drum.

After his took his woodshed beating in the above sports, he suggested that bowling should be next on the list. Before we started he said, "I'll play for a dollar." I took this bet. This would be a great way to teach him a lesson. He produced a dollar. I produced a dollar and the game was on. I bowled first, and it was pathetic. He looked me dead in the face and said, "You're going down." He proceeded to bowl a 250. I didn't even get within 75 points of him. He finished me off quickly, took the $2 and said, "I'm going to bed, Dad. You need to practice before we play again."

Back on the map again

Good afternoon, all. Or at least the 5-6 people that read this. Since only one person leaves comments, I have to rely on disguntled e-mails that I need to post something. It has come to my attention that I have neglected my duties as a blogger. Please accept my apologies. In my defense, we have been a touch busy in this house. Since April 13, we have had the following:

16 soccer practices
5 tee ball practices
14 tee ball and soccer games
2 Brownie troop trips
4 Brownie meetings
1 trip to Chapel Hill (not for pleasure)
1 trip to Wilmington (Abbey field trip)
1 meeting at Maggie's school
The company Cathy works for had layoffs (she was not included in the layoffs)
Countless school projects for Abbey

For those of you who could care less about the above, here's a story for ya.

Conner found some change on Cathy's dresser yesterday and placed it in a small plastic box. He was very proud of his money and was showing it off to anyone who would look. Conner and I went over to see Carlo (our neighbor) later in the afternoon. Conner showed his box to Carlo. This was the exchange.

Conner: Look, Carlo.
Carlo: That's cool. Are you collecting money?
Conner: Yes.
Carlo: Well, here is a dollar for the collection.
Conner: Thanks.
Carlo: What are you collecting money for?
Conner: Me.
Carlo: What the heck? I thought you were collecting money for something important.
Conner: Nope, I just want money.

The ladies man

I went to pick up Conner around lunchtime today. His class was outside on the playground, and they were just beginning to line up to go back inside when I got there. He was in the front of the line, and when he saw me he got out of line and started toward me. He was high-fiving the boys, and when he reached a girl she pulled him into a big hug. The next girl in line was not to be outdone, so she grabbed him and hugged him. The next girl is the love of his life, and she hugged him and kissed him. I actually saw his legs buckle. The last one in line was a boy, and he high-fived Conner as if to say, "Yea, boy." Conner was red in the cheeks and smiling all the way home.

Conner's first T-ball game

Pat says T-ball isn't cute (kind of like there's no crying in baseball). I disagree. Conner, for one, was very cute.

Vacation over

The kids and the mama arrived safely Thursday late night. They all proceeded to take their butts directly to bed. Reality slapped us all in the face this morning. Laundry needed to done. Meals made. Kids were arguing, playing, yelling, creating messes, hungry, bored, cleaning and thoroughly driving us both insane.

Vacation is over.

Day Three

Ah, day three of the beloved vacation. I returned from work (this working all day thing is crap) to a quiet house and our dogs completely confused and starved for attention. It seemed that they miss the kids because they weren't amused that I was the one who showed up to play ball with them. They got over it when food was introduced.

Today was not a total wash, though. I was offered dinner from our neighbors, Carlo and Toni. Carlo is a retired executive chef, and believe me it doesn't matter what he serves, it's creative and delicious. Dinner was chicken wrapped around ham and fresh mozzarella with a tomato-garlic reduction. Great dinner and lively conversation. I also got to continue with the "I'm not cooking theme."

The kids and Cathy are still loving life on their vacation. The weather is amazing, and the surprising part is that the kids are behaving. They are headed to Busch Gardens Tampa Bay tomorrow. As for the fishing trip with the "world class guide" my brother-in-law went on, you guessed it, they caught a ton of fish. Par for the course. If I flew down there this evening and started fishing at the crack of dawn, I would catch nothing. The reason, you ask, is that the fishing was always the best it's ever been the day before you get there. I'm sure they caught all the fish that they say they caught because fisherman are always honest.

According the Weather Channel, it is going to rain here Wednesday, but I'm still hopeful that golf is in the cards. If not, silence, Sportcenter and the Golf Channel will fill the void.

Day two

Alright, this was not the relaxing day that Sunday was. Not nearly the amount of chilling and no basketball or golf to watch. I had to work. Yes, I'm a whining like a big baby. It was a beautiful day, and all I could think about was when I was going to be done and get to the golf course. I did drag myself to the course for a quick 9 this afternoon.

Let me tell you that getting up in the morning and having to only get myself ready and out the door was very choice. No one to get to school or make breakfast for. Not having to get dressed in the dark. Didn't have to be quiet so that I don't wake Conner or Maggie. I normally wake Cathy, and she's generally not happy about that. I actually had time to sit and drink a cup of coffee and watch Sportscenter with the volume up. I am setting the clock a little later because I had too much time to kill this morning before leaving for work.

I have gotten several texts from "She who must be obeyed." Most of them were "We are going to the beach" or "Going shopping." My brother-in-law is going fishing with a world-class guide in the a.m. I know it's a world class guide because he told me a couple of times (4) this afternoon. Now, these messages are designed to make me jealous. NOT. I'm good and playing golf again Tuesday.

Day one of Big Daddy's vacation

Day one started with getting the wife and kids out the door so that I can get to the scheduled tee time. In the words of General Tommy Franks, "Mission Accomplished." We were on the first tee before she and the kids left the state. The golf was good - not great, but good. Can't remember the last time I had the chance to play golf with no one immediately related to me in this state. Cathy called me a couple of times, and I didn't feel guilty once. This was a first. Just for the record, she landed in south Florida safely.

I had an executive lunch (couple of beers and an entree). Also for the record, the word couple can mean 2 or 6 - take your pick. I came back and watched Louisville get kicked in the mouth. My bracket is screwed more so now than before.

Just got a call from Cathy. It's 86 degrees, and the low tonight in south Florida is in the 60s. Also just got a text from my brother-in-law. He is there as well with his family. Contents of the text are confidential. Trust me, he is not impressed with me right now.

My evening will end soon, but not before I sit quietly on the deck with a glass of cold beer and a very good cigar. I'm the coolest person I know. Except for Cathy's Uncle Dave, who is dealing with my children as we speak. Still love ya, Dave.

"Do I have to jump?"

Over the past week I have been telling Conner that he's going to Florida on Sunday and that he will be taking his first plane ride. Mostly, I've been holding it over his head when he does something wrong. Almost every day he has asked me if he'll have to jump out of the plane. Everytime I tell him, no it will land, and you can walk out of the plane. No worries, you will have a great time. I answer his question and he moves on.

Yesterday the question changed a touch. "Dad, when I jump out of the plane and land on the street, will I get hit by a car?" I was standing there and had no idea what to say when Abbey looked him dead in the face and said "Probably" and walked away. Conner looked at me and said, "That's not gonna be good."

Today, Cathy finally told me why he has been asking this question. For two months now, he's been watching an episode of "iCarly" that Maggie recorded, and in that episode they have to parachute out of a plane. And we were worried about him watching the news.

Ready to go

Conner informed me when he got up today that he has already packed for our trip (we leave tomorrow). He has Legos, his bear (also named Conner), a toothbrush and a shoe. Yes, a shoe.

He packs like his father, who always forgets something major when we go on a trip. He once went to Florida with one pair of shoes: bucks (like these). Even then, wearing bucks with shorts wasn't a good fashion statement.

Not the exit he hoped for

After sending Conner to his room, there's nothing funnier than watching him try to slam the door, only to have to do it six times before it finally shuts.

Great quotes

"Beer will get you through hard times without money better than money will get through good times without beer"

"On the eighth day God created beer to keep the Irish from taking over the world"

Countdown begins

81 hours and 30 minutes. That is how long I have until my vacation. My wife and children are going to south Florida for 5 days during spring break. Cathy has completely lost her mind to take three kids to Florida by herself, but I'll be damned if I am arguing with her. I am staying home because I have to "work."

Yes, I am looking forward to this. I am completely prepared for this break in the action. The second I leave work each day I'm playing golf. I am eating meals in a restaurant booth or in the living room out of styrofoam. I have a stack of takeout menus the thickness of a Tom Clancy novel. I'm not cooking anything. I will have complete control of the remote. I've called the cable company to have them block all channels with cartoons or pre-teen shows. Quicker browsing is very important.

Cathy has a list of things that she would like to have done to the house in their absence. My list is a little different. I'm gonna sleep in the middle of the bed, leave a wet towel on the bathroom floor, drink milk directly from the gallon jug, not listen to Jesse McCarthey or Miranda Cosgrove on YouTube, leave my golf clubs in the living room and not do any laundry. I most sincerely will miss my wife and kids, and several people have informed me that I will go insane with the silence. That ain't gonna happen.

How men clean

Everyone is cutting back in one way or the other these days. I decided to do my part for our family. Conner and I decided today that we were going to clean out the van. We cleaned out all the papers, soccer stuff, clothes, chairs, coffee cups and such. After opening all the doors, I produced the backpack blower and blew all the remains out the doors. It took 2 minutes. I turned it off, looked at my son and said, "This is how men clean." Conner looked at me and said, "Can we clean my room with that?"

There he goes thinking again

Me: "Conner, are you supposed to draw on your leg?"

Conner: "My brain told me to do it."

Catch a tiger ...

Me: "Conner, you can lay on my bed, on the couch or in your bed."

Conner: "Can we play eeny meeny miny mo?"

What I thought but didn't say: Yep, because no matter what, you lose.

Yes, he said that

There is a tradition in the preschool that the girls attended and Conner currently attends. During the last week of Febuary, the teachers hand out Mardi Gras beads. When Abbey was 3, she appeared in the doorway with a neck full of beads. An enormous amount of things flashed through my mind. Maybe flashed was a bad choice of words. Let's say raced through my mind. It took most of the day to get the idea of my daughter (much older) dancing around the French Quarter out of my head. I was not much better with it when Maggie was 3 and she donned the beads after school. Fast forward to today. Conner walks out of class this morning, and he has his beads on. Not a single OMG thought came to mind. I am thinking that he is a little confused as to how this works, but I am OK with it. However, when we got in the car I asked him about the beads and he said, "I want to give these to Mom." In my infinite wisdom, I told him to give one to Mom, and if you don't get in trouble I will give her the rest later.

It's not fair

Good Lord, is there anyone out there who wants an 11-year-old? I am completely sick of the meltdowns, hormones, questions and "I'm tired but I'm not going to bed early" crap. Here is an example. After dinner this evening, I asked Abbey to take her brother downstairs to help him play MarioKart. You would think that I asked her to cut her toes off with a butter knife. She actually told me that she had spent an hour with her brother over the weekend and she should be allowed to not have to deal with it during the weekdays.
The thing that drives me the most nuts is that she will finally give me a break from the Oscar Award-winning drama performance and take a shower. Once her shower is over, she waltzed her little butt downstairs and played with her brother. What the hell happens in there? Is she using some kind of special mood-changing water? I get nine miles of bad road before the shower, and he gets to play MarioKart with his sister after the shower. There is something terribly wrong with this picture. Why do I have to suffer?

Editor's note: Cathy takes offense at this

Why is it that the oldest child in the house thinks that she's the third adult in the house? She thinks that we, as parents, should take her advice on how to raise the younger ones. For Abbey, being an 11-year-old girl has a great many issues that I am not interested in understanding. She is always telling me what I am doing wrong with Maggie and Conner. I truly love it when she opens that pre-teen Pandora's box and irrationally explains that I am doing this parenting thing all wrong and I should change how I talk, walk, prepare dinner, do laundry and whatever else. What Abbey fails to realize is that I have a wife who tells me what I am doing wrong on a daily basis. This is not a position that needs an assistant.

Don't bug her!

Here's what happens when you give a 7-year-old a camera:

Who's the Boss?

During Springsteen's halftime show at the Super Bowl, Abbey winces and says "Oooh, this guy can't sing."

Then, to make it worse, "At least he's better than Neil Diamond."

Those are fighting words, and she knows it. You don't talk bad about Neil Diamond.

Picture this

In the middle of the Super Bowl, Conner is standing on a milk crate in the living room, hitting a balloon in the air. In his underwear.

Dad's in charge

An e-mail from Pat sent Nov. 6, 2007
Subject: Football god

Your son has a thunder bolt for an arm. He has a gift from the football gods. He has been running across the living room throwing a Nerf ball to me. He has thrown tight passes that have hit me in the chest every time. Before we go any further, I know that we are not supposed to play football in the house. You're at work, I am here, get over it. Rules are different when you're at work, and the girls and I can blame Conner if anything breaks. He has thrown passes left while running right and vice versa. Notre Dame called a little bit ago and needs your son ASAP. For God's sake, they are 1-8.
There is one drawback, though. He cannot catch to save his life. I have tried everything. I even stood a foot from him and lightly tossed the ball to him and it hit him in the head. His hands didn't even move. Abbey even tried to help, and she thinks it is hopeless. When he does get a hand on it, it's like he has bricks in his hands. He even dropped the ball when I snapped it to him. The shotgun formation is definitely out of the question for now. He is going to have to learn the fine art of fumble recovery. As much as it pains me, Notre Dame will have to wait until he is actually 18.
On another note, Maggie is crying because she gets to watch the movie that is on. I told her that it was her turn to pick the show on TV. She is crying because she seems to think that Conner is going to change the channel to Diego. This could actually happen if we knew where the DVR remote was.

Fashion faux pas

An e-mail from Pat sent Dec. 10, 2007
Subject line: Daddy's a bonehead

I just changed your son for bed. This in itself was a simple operation. After I finished he proceeded to the couch and watched the movie du jour. Several minutes passed by and he came into Mommy's room - yes, it is still is not my room - and yelled at me for the pajamas that I chose. Evidently the white pants with the snowflakes are not the bedtime fashion statement he had in mind. He waltzed his little behind - he actually stomped off - into his room and produced a pair of blue "Cars" pajama pants. He then told me, "These pants are for big boys. These are for girls." This alone was funny, but when he said "These are for girls," he was pointing to his crotch.

The ship

An e-mail from Pat sent May 29, 2008:

The ship that is our household has officially sunk. The captain of the house (me) has sounded the alarm and is getting to a lifeboat ASAP. Abbey is a complete mess about this homework. I have canceled her dentist appointment and have set her up with an army of shrinks instead. Middle school and puberty will not be a pretty picture. Maggie brushed by one of the kitchen cabinets and let out a scream like she had torn her arm off. She also announced that Conner will hit me soon. I was on the phone when she urgently needed to tell me this. Imagine that. Conner is walking around the house with my aluminum bat, and he has a serious look of trouble on his face. He just freaked when I threw away a quarter inch of pickle he had not finished. He is on the couch currently crying that it is not fair. So with all of this, I am jumping ship and leaving it to sink further with the kids in it. I am not a true captain, but I am good with it. I am saving myself.

Snow days

I am going to take this moment to sincerely apologize to my mother. Snow days are a pain in the butt for the parent who is home for the day with the kids. When I was a child (or more precisely younger than I am now - I rephrase because Cathy calls me a child almost weekly) I would get up at the crack of dawn, suit up for the snow, go outside and play. This would mean that I would get completely soaked to the skin within an hour or two. I would go inside just before frostbite was about to set in and drop all the clothes in the laundry room and expect them to be dried quickly by my mother. I would also expect large quantities of food to be provided for me and my friends. My mother would do all these things, rather quickly, and then we would be on our way outside again. This cycle would be repeated 2 to 3 more times during the day.
My mother can, at this stage in life, take pride in the fact that her grandchildren have returned the favor.

Nap time

An e-mail from Pat sent Nov. 5, 2007:

Why is it that when your child is napping peacefully on the couch you will sit down next to him to absorb the moment and the first thing that goes through your mind is "Thank freaking God he is out cold"? Is that a bad thing?

Another thing is that I will sit and watch the rest of "Little Ensteins" while he is sleeping. I want to know who the composer of the day is. I am officially a geek, and I am going to fold clothes now.

Abbey: 2008 in pictures

Maggie-isms

Maggie and I were walking around the neighborhood selling Girl Scout cookies (she's up to 91 boxes thanks to all of the family members we pressured into ordering), and she looks at the form and says - for at least the fifth time - "I wonder who Frail Mollie is."

And for at least the fifth time I explain to her that the form asks for your last name first. So who do you think it is?

"I bet it's Aunt Mollie. And I bet Oberle Kim is Aunt Kim. And that one's Grandma."

Suddenly it all clicked. Until the next day, when we had the same conversation again.

* * *

"Mom, can we listen to 'Shake Your Goofy' "? (As opposed to "Shake Your Groove Thing" - sung by the Chipmunks.)

Maggie: 2008 in pictures

The universe is good again

All is right with the universe today. The kids are back at school, and I am back at work. I realize that there are moms and dads who stay at home with the kids all day, every day. I do not. I crave the interaction with adults who have gotten through puberty, even if it is only for a few hours in the morning. I could not watch another movie on a rainy day, make another meal or do another load of laundry. I am sure that the only thing that got me through was playing Tiger Woods '09 on the Wii after they went to bed. In eleven years, I have not looked forward to any day more. I honestly started marking off the days on the calender like one of the kids looking forward to summer break. The kids were sick of me, and I was sick of them.

Conner: 2008 in pictures

Here are some of my favorite photos of Conner from this year. I'll do the same for the girls in the next few days. There are a lot of photos to sort through!