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!