I would like to "axe" you a question...

It's probably going to reach somewhere near 90-92 degrees here in the Atlanta area today, and I've spent the last three weeks splitting firewood for our coming winter where we'll be lucky to get more than 20 days of temps in the lower 30s or upper 20s.

But beyond just some need to get out and do something manly for a change (as opposed to watching the kids or sitting in a chair at work on the computer all day), there is something very cathartic about mindless physical exertion, and it is this which has drawn me time and again to one of the two stacks of wood in my backyard these past few weeks.

To be sure there is a satisfaction one can gain from parenting or from one's chosen profession, but in my experience, few things are as satisfying as rounding a day off soaked in sweat (perspiration for my female audience) and having something as solid as a stack of split wood to show for your efforts; even if half of it will probably go to waste since it doesn't get that cold here anyway.

Also, for me, I get some of my best contemplating in when I'm doing something singular like cutting firewood or mowing the lawn. It is during these times that I'm most introspective, because let's face it, you don't really need your brain when you're working in the yard. I wonder if Einstein came up with some of his most pervasive postulates while working? Perhaps Da Vinci was planing off a new worktable when he came with the idea for the parachute. Who knows.

But, I finished one stack and based on how things are going at work, I luckily have a whole 'nother stack to go. Skip the gym, cut some wood, keep my sanity. Not a bad deal all in all.

Blue / Pink / Indifferent?

It's amazing how quickly one can accept a situation and begin making plans for it, even if that situation goes against everything you've been planning up till that point in life.

My wife got up this morning and announced that she was terribly nauseous. Now, we've been pretty careful with the "relations" since our last son was born, but there might have been a time or two that our teenage years crept up on us and we excused off the hassle and just went with the moment.

With a "Do you think the drugstore is open yet?" she was out the door on a mission to get a pregnancy test. When she came home, she went straight upstairs and faster than I thought the test could return results, she comes back downstairs and says, "We're not pregnant."

Now, I know a lot of people think babies are Gods little gift and so on and so forth, but gift or no, I am not prepared for another baby. I was feeling pretty confident she might be pregnant though based both on today's little episode and a week or two of her feeling a tad on the puny side. In my head, even as I was lamenting, "Oh my LORD what're we gonna do?" I was also planning out how long it would take me to finish off a couple of rooms in my basement so we could still have a guest room if we had to turn our current upstairs guest room into a nursery.

Thank goodness no such plans will be necessary.

Apparently, she only has a tummy bug as she has slept literally all day and thus far neither myself nor the boys have any symptoms (which is suspect considering everyone I know who's had this, has also passed it to their entire household in a matter of hours). I've been careful to keep the boys generally away from her all day so if we're lucky, it'll stop with her. Of course, with the exception of my recent fishing trip, I just don't throw up. Stomach bugs don't affect me for some reason, so I'm not a good gauge of a bug's possibilities.

At any rate, today's over and now I can relax for a bit before my week begins.
And I can guaran-darn-tee that the next time the moment feels right, I'll be puttin' on my hat.

Do you hear the words that are coming out of my mouth?

Need I say more?

There's a certain liberation that comes from knowing that since your company cares so little about you, you therefore, should not feel required to return any amount of loyalty to it.

And that, my friends, is how my day has gone.

I had my meeting and was told that my idea held no appeal and that therefore, I pretty much had no choice in the matter and "Welcome to the team." At which point I said, "What do you expect me to say? I'm not happy with this."

"Carmine said one boy, here are two." (The Freshman).

I felt like I should at least be honest with them after they had me bend over and take what amounts to a demotion.

The great thing about not giving a flip, is the fact that you feel empowered to say things that other people don't expect to hear (like that) and in return, you often get little gems like this one that my new boss said, "Well, if you do decide to look outside the company for a new job, I'd really appreciate it if you told me so I can prepare."

I'm not kidding people, these words actually came out of her mouth. And yes, she's a Sr. Manager. Wow! Either she completely thinks I trust her (for what reason she might have earned this honor I can't begin to imagine) or else she just really is an idiot. Could go both ways really.

And if anyone out there even thinks about saying in the comments anything even closely resembling any of the following:
- Hold tight! God has a plan
OR
- At least you have a job

I will hunt you down and disfigure you like Michael Jackson's plastic surgeon. (that's not quite grammatically correct, but you get the point).

When you're stuck with (another) day, that's gray, and looonelly...

Since yesterday's blog, I learned a few things. Apparently, my boss, unbeknownst to me, has been in discussions with the Marketing Communications (Marcom) group to move me over there as a "writer." Now, coincidentally, I was simultaneously developing a business case for basically the same thing, except (and this is a big "except") under the auspices of being a "Team Lead".

Why a "Team Lead" you ask and not a Manager? Well, the company I work for (it's big, it's blue, and its people are known to be heartless robots), has interesting definitions of what makes a "Manager" per-se. You have to have a certain number of people directly reporting to you in order for you to be considered a Manager. And even if I did move over to the Marcom group at the level I want, there aren't the proper number of people to report to me to satisfy the requirement. So, at best, I can get a "Team Lead" position which basically means the same thing, but doesn't come with the requisite pay raise. Oh well.

Anyway, I found out my bosses' plans in a meeting with him yesterday and feeling that it was especially lucky that I did find out ahead of time (since everyone talks about me, but not to me) I also took the opportunity to tell him that if I didn't get a "Team Lead" position there, I would not be staying with the company.

Gutsy move I might regret later, but here's why:

1. This is the second consecutive job that I have been promised a Team Lead position in and this is the second one that has renegged on their word


2. If I move over as a "Writer" I will be in effect, putting my career back 3-4 years, since I have held the following titles in the last 4 years: Sr. Technical Writer and Marketing Manager. To go back to "Writer" would be career stupidity

The interesting thing is, that even people here at work that I talk to regularly seem to know more about my bosses' career plans for me than even I do. I find the whole charade fascinating and revolting at the same time.

The funny thing is, in my meeting yesterday my boss said, "Well first, you should never tell your boss you quit unless you're willing to follow through with it."

You know what I did, I chuckled, and then I said, "I wasn't kidding. You're my fourth boss in six months. That's six months that I've been scratching and clawing my way by myself, with absolutely no support behind me whatsoever and I'm done fighting. There are other companies out there who would welcome me and give me the support I need to get my job done."

There wasn't much he could say after that. So, I have a meeting mid-morning today to discuss my "move" and I suspect I'll have a pretty good feeling after that meeting as to my future at my current company. Interestingly, while I don't relish the idea of moving yet again, I really don't care. I honestly don't care whether I stay or go. I suspect that's what has emboldened me to make the demands I've made.

When you've got nothing to lose, why not?

When you're stuck with a day, that's gray, and loooneely....

For today's blog entry, I had grand plans of discussing how we might finally be able to resolve the redneck issue here in the U.S. See, the Thames River has overflowed in the UK, forcing massive evacuations. I was hoping to find an interview by the BBC with some toothless Euro-Redneck and then make wild sweeping claims about how people need to get off the South's back concerning our population of river dwellers.

And then, I came into work and got into an argument with one of my protege's (actually, I guess he's a step above me) over his having one of his recent hires, do my job. It finally ended up with me stomping over to my new bosses' office and saying, "F**K it. I'm done." Yes, I used those words.

A little history here: I used to work where I work now a couple of years ago and I left because they wouldn't offer me a permanent position--just wanted to keep me on contract. The boss I was working for at the time contacted me late last year about coming back and after protracted discussions, I finally came back in Feb. of this year. Here was the deal I was supposed to get:

• the pay I asked for
• the benefits I asked for
• my own small writing team, and thus "manager" experience I've been wanting to get

Well, several re-organizations (and 4 managers) later, here's what I have:

• the pay I asked for
• the benefits I asked for
• I'm still working by myself, with no "team" in sight

There are many reasons for why I'm frustrated, but it basically comes down to having to constantly justify what I do. I've worked at companies who just fell over themselves giving me work to do, but here I often have to go out and beg for work. When I do, I usually get inundated, but the point is that I have to keep reminding people that I'm here. There is plenty of work for myself and a small team of writers if only we could get the project managers to send us the work rather than sending it to an outside agency. The funny thing is, half the time they come back to me later and say, "Yeah, I sent this to the agency and it's really not what I'm looking for. Can you fix?"

So, I have enough work to justify at least one more writer if the process I've put in place were followed (and I had some kind of manager behind me enforcing it), but the longer I go on by myself having to delay projects, or flat out turn them down because I can't finish them on time, the less of a chance I have of getting my own team because the projects just get shipped off to some outside agency who really just don't have a clue. And since I end up "fixing" them when they do come back from the agency, the manager in charge of the particular project is happy and doesn't care that they just bypassed me to get the project done.

I just want to grab them by the shirt collar and scream, "But it's my job a**hole! Don't you get it? When you give it to someone else, you are basically saying you don't need me anymore."

So I've calmed down a bit since this morn's explosion, but I'm still resolved to either get this fixed in the next month, or find another job. Trust me folks, some of the biggest names in corporate America really don't have a clue when it comes down to people and processes. I guess there are enough young grads lined up (we have kids earning their Master's degree working as Interns) to bother caring about the people already on staff.

On top of that, my company issued a memo early this year indicating that they were starting a "minority hiring" initiative, meaning they are purposefully hiring/promoting women and minorities, which means if you're a white male, best of luck to ya! So, I don't think my future here is too rosey. But we'll see. I have one more ace up my sleeve which I'll try and play either late this week or early next and if it doesn't work, I walk. I'll keep you updated.

Survival of the fittest!

My kids' daycare has camera monitoring in all the classes, but the resolution is pretty bad so it's difficult to tell who is whom. I'm pretty sure this is Aiden based solely on his socks.









Well, I made it through last night. The boys were good and we actually managed to get a decent meal in. I put Aiden down around 8:15 and Ethan about 8:40, leaving me to do all sorts of fun things, like clean up and brush my teeth and such. Of course, just as I was lying down to go to sleep (10:15'ish) Aiden woke up. So, fed him and crawled back in bed til about 2 a.m. when he woke up again.

If you read yesterday's blog, you know I was gonna try some tough love and let him cry it out. Well, after 45 minutes, I gave up. At some point, you just have to say, "OK, he's miserable, I'm miserable, how about some milky?" So, did that and crawled back in bed around 3:15 a.m.

Slept till 6:45 (wow!) Got out of bed and found Ethan sitting by his bedroom door and when he saw me, he ran up and said, "You slept a long time." I only wish!

Anyway, got the boys off and now it's worky time. Hooray!

Gripe Session

(after writing this, I figured I'd better preface it with: I'm tired; work sucks for a variety of reasons and I still don't feel especially well)

Nothing of particular note happened this weekend. Ethan had a little girl/friend over to play and they had a lot of fun. The mom came over and was pretty much a brick. Just kinda hung out even though my wife told her to feel free (PULEASE!) to leave her daughter there and go catch up on some errands or something.

The ridiculous thing was that we told her to bring bathing suits as we would take the kids to the pool if the weather was nice. So, she brings her daughter a bathing suit, but not one for herself. Since the kids are only three, my wife correctly felt that SOMEONE ought to be in the pool with the kids (even though we have a lifeguard). So this meant that there were two adult females at the pool watching two 3-year olds and that also meant that I was at home watching the baby.

Does anyone else see the lunacy here? Three adults to watch three children??? Now, had the other mother brought her suit, then my wife could have watched our baby, leaving me free to do any number of things that need doing around the house. But noooooo.

I'm going to bust on the women here for a second, so my female readers will just have to bear with me. When did women in society today become so helpless when it comes to kids? I mean, we only have two kids and my wife is at her whits end by the end of the day if I'm not there to help. Same goes for a lot of women I know...especially the single moms.

Now, believe me, I know kids are tough. I sure as heck wouldn't want to be a stay-at-home dad, but one would argue that nature has not properly equipped men and therefore we biologically lack a lot of what it takes. For instance, I lack hips, so holding my son becomes a test of bicep strength. My wife on the other hand, can prop him on her hip and hold him all day.

Interestingly, we are only one generation away from moms who had 5 or more children and women today can't seem to handle the one or two they have. And yes, a lot of moms work these days, but haven't women argued all along that working at home is just as hard (nay, harder) than working at the office? If that's so, then why all the complaints about having to come home and care for the kids? Why is working at the office, and then coming home and watching the kids, any different from watching them all day? If I read it right, when dads came home just 15-20 years ago, they didn't take over watching the kids. No sir...they did what they needed to around the house, or else they just sat around. Amazingly, dinner still got served, the house still got cleaned, and most remarkably, the children didn't die from lack of neglect. I don't get it.

Maybe part of the problem is that working mothers carry so much guilt over not being home with their kids that when they are with their kids, they give it 200%. For example, I was briefly chatting with this mom at the house this weekend. I was standing there soaked in sweat from working in the yard, getting a glass of water before cleaning up so I could watch the baby while they went to the pool, and she says to me, "I tell you, I don't know how people have more than one or two children anymore. I just wish someone would come over and just take my daughter for a while so I could get something done."

In response, I said, "Yeah, it's tough," but in my head I'm saying, "Well, what ya do is you tell your child to go play by herself for a while and then you clean the house, pay the bills, cook the meal, whatever you need to do. Ya do know that you don't have to play with them 24x7 right? See, you tell your child what to do, not the other way around."

Perhaps I was so ready with this response because I want to say it in my own home so often, usually after a long day of work, when I have to come home and mow the grass or work on something and then cook dinner and or/ bathe the kids; which is pretty much every day.

I often wonder if we're not doing our children a disservice by being their only source of entertainment at home. It'll probably be better at our house when our boys are old enough to play with each other, but for now, my wife and I are both breadwinners, parents and playfriends and it's two very full time jobs.

I don't know...I just don't think that this whole dual income parenting this is fairly equitable anymore. Just as men are accused of not respecting how difficult being a stay-at-home mom is, I feel women don't respect that in addition to our office work, we men/fathers also have a bevy of things to do at home; especially if you own your own home and have any kind of yard. So while women get help with the kids, how many men get help with the house or the yard (note: I didn't raise my hand)?

Yeah, I'm a little frustrated. My wife has another "offsite" meeting tonight where she gets to spend the night at a local hotel and get a full night's sleep while I, yet again, get to stay home with the boys and answer the nighttime feeding request at 11 p.m. and then probably again at 2:30 a.m. and/or maybe at 4 a.m. Perhaps tonight I'll let him just cry through the 11p.m. feeding since my wife won't be there to coddle him. Heck, I know people with 2 month olds that sleep through the night, so maybe I'll let him cry through his 2:30 feeding too. We'll see. I need a REAL vacation I think.

Old MacDonald had a...container garden?

In my old neighborhood, nary a year went by that I didn't fill up my 5-gallon bucket with fresh tomatoes, cucumbers and sometimes strawberries and go around doling them out to my neighbors. Although I had a fairly small patch of land, two people don't eat that much and I usually got a really good return. It was always funny watching neighbor's expressions as they cracked the door open trying to ascertain who I was and what I wanted from them. Confusion changed to excitement (especially among the elderly) when they realized I wasn't trying to get them to purchase overpriced wrapping paper or stale bars of chocolate for my high school prom.

But, we moved last fall and for many and various reasons, I didn't do a garden this year. Primarily because (or at least this is the excuse I'm telling myself) I didn't know how my sun pattern would fall in my yard and I needed to know this before planting. Also, the only flat area available to me currently is at the very back back of my yard and I just wasn't sure I wanted to trek down there daily for a weeding and picking.

Since I haven't not had fresh tomatoes in probably 6 years, I decided to put a couple of plants out in containers on my back porch, where I was reasonably sure they would receive sun. After all, I can't keep houseplants back there because they get sunburned, so I figured it'd be just about right for my maters. I also used to grow my own plants from seeds, but it wasn't worth the effort this year for two little old plants, so I purchased some "Better Boy" tomato plants from the local home store and put them in two large square plastic pots right on the back porch.

To say that my yield was less than expected, would be an understatement. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if the National Gardening Association called me and kicked me out of their ranks. For one thing, I believe that I put too much natural compost in there right off the bat beacuse within a week of planting them, they were showing signs of burning (too much fertilizer). Also, despite having a single hole in the bottom for drainage, both containers stayed very wet, despite a perpetual drought (until the last two weeks).

At any rate, I got one little ol' tomato out of it, and it definately looks more like a Roma tomato than a Better Boy, but whatever. Next year, I'm gonna suck it up and walk down the hill and plant an actual garden. Cuz...this is ridiculous.

In this corner, weighing in at a whopping, 32 lbs...

These days, saying "Boys will be boys" in a group of parents is liable to earn you a few raised eyebrows and possibly a mental scolding. Let's face it, everyone is so litigiously politically correct that allowing children, especially boys, to work things out the old fashioned way is akin to burning them with cigarette butts, and just as likely to get you reported to your local children's services group.

So, I find myself in a quandry regarding my oldest son. He's three, and while he isn't the smallest boy in his little daycare class, he's by no means the biggest. There have been instances over the last few months where he's been the target of some small amount of bullying (yes, even at the tender age of 3) and in most cases, he's responded as society has taught us to respond--by doing nothing.

Dads, you'll understand where I'm going with this, but for you moms, let me explain something for you. Boys WILL be boys. Boys WILL get in fights and boys WILL have to earn their place among each other. Groups of boys enjoy a pecking order that often has nothing to do with who is toughest, but has more to do with who is the most assertive. As a consequence, boys who are not necessarily assertive, often become targets. It's a situation I happen to have a lot of experience in.

When I was growing up, we moved from our house in-town to a fairly rural area around Mobile, AL. This meant I also moved to a new school and started 6th grade among kids whom I had no history with. There were no childhood friends with whom I could buddy up to for protection. No, I was on my own. For the first year at my new school, I treked back and forth from class to class avoiding a certain group of boys. There was also a certain boy in my neighborhood that gave me problems, although to be fair, there was never any violence; just the threat of violence on a daily basis. One day at P.E., after taking verbal jabs from one boy for about 15 minutes, I managed to put him on the ground and convinced him that I probably wasn't going to be a good target from then on. Ya know what happened after that? Most of my problems at school with other boys just went away. And while I wouldn't say I was best buds with my previous nemesis', we at least had an understanding. A similar thing happened a couple of years later with the boy in my neighborhood, and after that, he left me alone too.

Back to the original point: Armed with this knowledge, I'm having a hard time being politically correct when it comes to my son. A new boy has moved into his daycare class and apparently this new boy finds my son a fun person to pick on. Now, if my son pushes the boy back after being pushed himself, he gets fussed at by the teachers. As if maybe he was supposed to either just take the abuse, or go running to the teachers tattle-telling. Yesterday when I picked him up from daycare, I mentioned that maybe soon he'll be moved up to the next class with his other friends who just moved up, to which my son responded, "Yeah, and then maybe Aiden (this new little troublemaker) won't pick on me anymore."

As a parent, and as a dad, this really bothers me. I know how being a target makes a young boy feel and I would spare my son that if I could. However, I also don't want him to get into trouble and be labeled a troublemaker. So, I'm at an impasse as to what advice to give him. Maybe I just don't give him any advice. Maybe I don't say that I don't want him starting fights and maybe I don't say that he'll get in trouble if he gets in a fight. Maybe I also leave out that if the other boy pushes him, he has my permission to return the favor. At least that way he has no preconceived notions about what will happen if he does haul off and smack this other boy.

My other thought is to call up the daycare director and tell her that if my son comes home one more time and tells me that he got pushed by this other boy, that I'm going to give him permission to do whatever he feels like doing and if they want to dicipline him, fine, but I won't be adding to it when he gets home.

Living in fear is not fun and I'm sorry, but sometimes boys have to be themselves and work things out the old fashioned way. Sometimes violence (limited violence) is necessary. Save the peace talks for the boardroom and let playground politics rule the day!

Survey Says!

Is anyone else ready for fall? I'm not ready for temps in the teens mind you, but humidity down in the lower double digits would be nice. Don't get me wrong, it really has not been a bad summer here. Despite early drought conditions, we've lately been getting at least a smattering of rain each day and this has really helped keep the temperature down. But still, I'm pretty much done with summer and I suspect my recent beach trip has something to do with it.

Been to the beach...been to the pool...got my yard in order...next!

My mom in Pennsylvania might disagree. The average high in July where she lives is only 81 and when we are still hitting mid-80s in September, her highs hover in the lower 70s. Her growing season is also much shorter too, so by the time I'm "over" weeding my yard (pretty much this month), she's only just beginning.

Also adding fuel to my fall fire, is the bevy of catalogs that have started pouring in. We got our first Halloween costume catalog for the kids the other day. That's still like 3 good full months away! Then came the inevitable Pottery Barn fall catalog full of really nice brown-toned stuff. The end-all will be when the William Sonoma catalog comes with the inevitable picture of a warm loaf of pumpkin bread (available in-store or online) on the cover. They currently still have ice cream cones as the featured seasonal treat, so we're still a bit early yet.

The downside to all this happy-happy-joy-joy'ness, is the fact that school will be starting up soon. Now, this only affects me in that traffic will increase, because moms down here (of the stay-at-home variety) will hit the roads with their children because they're afraid of the stigma that might incur should their precious be seen riding the cheese-wagon.

Sigh...

I don't know...it's probably just because this cold has got me down and I just need a little "pick-me-up." Fall does that for me. But hey, soon enough we'll be seeing cooler weather and college football. I can't wait!

A Wise Man Once Told Me...

Most of us have probably all been the recipient of the saying, "In a hundred years, who's going to care?" And like many, I've nodded along with the wisdom and then promptly turned around and continued worrying over whatever it was that prompted the proverb.

But you know...it's true. If you don't believe me, take a vacation; preferably a long one.

Before we left for our week of sun and fun (read: misery and hell), I had a handful of projects I was busily trying to get done before I left. Most of them involved a good deal of writing and according to the project's owners, were of "uber importance." I got some of the projects done on time, others I completely had to blow off. This didn't stop me from worrying over them both before, during and after my vacation.

Yesterday I returned to work and do you know what I found? Yep, I found that it didn't take a hundred years for the projects to lose their urgency--in fact, it only took a few days. Oh, they are still important and they still need to be done, but forcing the people who were pushing me to step back and wait, only served to prove how very unimportant their artificial deadlines were.

Since I've been sick for the last few days, my yard has also gone unmown, I haven't gone to the gym, and I haven't done a lot of other things I would have normally done. It's tough, but I just have to keep reminding myself, "In 10 years, nobody is gonna care." Life goes on, with or without you.

Knowing when ta fold em Part 2

Well, despite the craziness of the first couple of days of the vacation, the remaining two days were fairly uneventful. We didn't get much sleep at night because both boys appeared to come down with a cold (which I now have). The wind and waves were almost unbearable down on the beach, so we spent most of our in-water time in the pool. The island wasn't in a real touristy area, so off-island excursions were pretty much out of the question. In short...we were stuck in the house for the remainder of the week.

But here are some notables:

• My wife's youngest sister woke up to a roach crawling in her hair
• My oldest son got tired of one of the other boys and his older sister taking his train and he pushed the boy and took his stuff back. (even while I was admonishing him, I was mentally patting him on the back)
• There was no shortage of making fun of all the lazy people using the elevator to go up or down one flight of stairs
• My wife's oldest brother's wife feels no qualms about breastfeeding in public. I, however, feel no qualms about getting up in the middle of a conversation with her and leaving the room when she starts it
• I caught no more fish. In fact, the waves were so bad, I couldn't even get out in the surf to cast adequately far
• I put a shrimp in my bathing suit pocket whilst fishing. I forgot it was there and when we got home, I washed it and dried it. Stunk up the whole load.
• Not once did my wife and I get to walk on the beach together
• On Sunday, one of the in-laws lost his wedding ring within 5 minutes of getting in the ocean. His wife, subsequently lost her diamond engagement ring in the pool two days later. Is that weird or what? Speculation abounded about the whole thing, especially considering she put all of about 20 minutes search time into it, while others spent hours taking apart the pool filter, and looking around the perimeter of the pool in the sand.

Otherwise, the trip was fine :) We decided to leave Wednesday afternoon around 4 p.m. and actually hit the road at 4:19. God must have felt pity on us, and he put the boys to sleep for nearly 5 hours of the trip home. I actually got to hold a conversation with my wife in the front seat of the car. A novelty that one!

Back at home, things are slowly settling back to normal. Our youngest is sleeping better again, although both boys still have snotty noses. All in all, it's really good to be home. And I've already put my foot down and said that next year, our core family is going somewhere by ourselves. Then the next year, we may team up with one of her sibling's families and do Disney. We'll see.

You gotta know when ta hold em...Know when ta fold em...(Part 1 of 2)

There are times in your life when it just doesn't pay to be right. This beach vacation has been one of those times. I'm sitting here on the 4th floor of this massive house while most everyone else is on the beach playing. I'm here, not because I'm being anti-social, but because as always happens, when everyone else is having fun, you have to watch the baby. The baby is asleep, but with three baby monitors going around (and only 2 available frequencies), when you hear a baby crying, you can't be sure it's yours. So rather than having to treck back and forth to and from the beach to see if the screaming you're hearing over the static, wind and waves, is actually your child, I'm opting to sit in the A/C and blog.

I think the best way to do this is just to give a day by day of the events, sprinkled with my own brand of insight along the way. Do enjoy...

We got up Saturday morning, skipped the gym and instead, packed the car. We have one of those car-top carrier things and it holds nearly as much as the back of our little SUV. It's been really hot, so rather than let Ethan run around at the beach, we went to Monkey Joe's, an indoor inflatable play area that he likes. Stayed there perhaps an hour and Ethan was done. Like me, he's not much of a crowd kinda guy and once the birthday parties started up, there were just too many folks. So we left, grabbed a sub at the nearby Quizno's and hit the road. Oh, and note to Quizno's: Getting rid of the little bag of Cheeto's in the kid's meal, and instead, making the cookie twice as large, isn't really what parents want for their kids.

The drive started out OK. Both boys were happily occupied, but then somewhere around the 3 hour mark, Aiden developed a new sound. It's something between a poopy push, and a closed-mouth groan "Unnnnnggggh, Unnnnngggghhh..." and this went on just about until we got to Florence, SC, (2.5 hours total). Nothing poor Megan did in the back seat helped. I even had her (gasp!) break the law and take him out of the carseat after promising that I would not wreck and that if I did, I'd be sure and kill us all so neither of us would go to jail for involuntary manslaughter for having our child out of his carseat (I swear, saftey groups telling me that a carseat is the best thing for my child on an 8-hour car trip can just kiss my butt!). It helped a tiny bit...but not much.

Finally got to our hotel that Megan had gotten using "Perk Points" from work (these are points they get for being good little corporate boys and girls). The inside of the hotel was better than the outside, and we got two rooms; one for Megan and Aiden and one for me and Ethan. After unpacking in the rain, Ethan and I went and played in the pool for a while. Got out...showered and then we all headed over to the nearby Outback Steakhouse. Everything was hunky dory until the food came and Ethan announced he needed to go poop. The timing is really amazing. Every night, at home or on the road...never fails. While she's gone, Aiden starts his weird noise again and then just starts screaming, so when they get back, I call for a to-go box and head outside.

Let me stress that at this point, I'm pretty much OVER IT! I've listened to this noise for nigh on 3 hours now and it's not helping my mood.

We get back to our hotel room and I pretty much immediately head over to my room for some R&R. Go get Ethan and we go to bed. We sleep good, Megan...not so much.

Next morning, we get up, have some breakfast and hit the road. We have roughly 3 hours ahead of us before getting to the beach and this morning Aiden is having none of it. The "noise" starts up again almost immediately and doesn't stop. On top of that, Ethan is repeatedly saying, "It's taking a long time, It's taking a long time..." YES, WE ARE WELL AWARE OF THIS FACT.

By the time we get to the beach house, I am once again in a pretty foul mood, but fortunately, most the family has bowed to religious peer pressure and headed out to the local church (Catholic...no thanks!) where it turns out, the service was outside in the sweltering heat. Oh...that's rich!

We get the swing set up in our room and try to put Aiden down for a while, but he was not happy. So, I let Megan deal with him whilst I unload the car. Finally got everything unpacked and Ethan and I headed out to the beach while Megan tried to calm Aiden down. That afternoon was fun. The waves were kind of high, but Ethan mostly likes running up to the water's edge and then out-racing the waves as they come in. He ran his tail off and I got a sunburn. Yaaay!

Dinner that night was done by Megan and me, and her brother and his wife. We did burgers and chicken and I had my mouth set on a chicken breast sammich, but by the time we ate, they were all gone. Oh well. After dinner we cleaned up and by then it was probably about 8:30, so we headed down to our room to put the boys to bed.

Let me paint the picture: One king sized bed, which as it turns out, had a vinyl-topped mattress pad on it. Now, whoever came up with this particular brand of hell should be shot. It crinkles when you move, and it doesn't breath...so you feel like you do when you're sitting under the barber's apron..sweaty all night! Now yes, I could have removed it, but then my phobia's kicked in and I thought, "What if there are bedbugs? Do I really wanna sleep on the same mattress as countless others who did Lord knows what on it?" So I left it there.
We also brought up a single mattress for Ethan and we rented a crib for Aiden, but instead of a regular mattress in it, it came with a Pack-n-Play style mattress, which is about as thick as my thumb and about as comfortable as lying on plywood. I padded it as best I could, but was unable to recreate that "at home" feel. I prayed it would suffice.

Luckily, Ethan went right to sleep, but Aiden did not. At first, we just thought the trip in the carset had messed him up, but in retrospect, I don't think he felt good. He'd been healthy for 4 months, then the day we leave for vacation he gets sick. Go figure right? We knew from earlier that there are three baby monitors going, and we were picking up each other's kids crying, so we pretty much had to stay in the room with the boys. Unfortunately, there was no bedside lamp-so no reading-and we couldn't turn the TV on because then Aiden would focus on it and wake up...he's just like that. So, it's an early 9 p.m. (on vacation) and Megan and I are lying in bed. She was tired anyway so it wasn't as bad as it may seem.

But wait, there's more. Our room was on the third floor, unfortunately, also directly under the kitchen/dining room area upstairs. Which means that everytime one of Megan's family walked through the kitchen (which was constantly) or someone scooched their chair on the tile floor, it sounded like a herd of elephants in our room. Now maybe it's because I read spy novels and stuff that I know how to walk quietly (let the balls of your feet hit first...not your heels), or perhaps it's because when I was growing up, I preferred to have the house to myself in the morning so I'd be as quiet as possible; whatever, but Megan's family (herself included) are heel walkers. They are stompers...so much so in fact that it made the recessed lights in our room vibrate. We finally went up and asked people to be a little quieter, but that's like asking trailer park residents to move away from the river...wasn't happenin'! Finally, about 10:30 things quietened down and we had both boys asleep. Aaaaghhh, maybe now we can sleep.

Phhhhhhhhhheeeeeesssssshhhh.....BAM! Fireworks! The next door neighbors decided to put on a fireworks show, which not only kept us from going to sleep, but also woke Aiden up. This went on for about 30 minutes. Finally got Aiden back down, settled down to sleep.

Honk! Honk! Honk! Honk! Honk!....someone set off their car alarm! At this point, I had to laugh...it was really all I could do. As it turns out, I got 2.5 hours of sleep that night due to Aiden not sleeping, and Megan got about 1.5 hours of sleep for the same reason.

The next day, I had a fishing trip scheduled. Needed to get up at 5:30 but when the time came, I told her, "I'm not going...I'm exhausted." She says, "Honey, it's the only thing you wanted to do on this trip...I'm going to be upset if you don't go." Whatre ya gonna do? I went fishing.

Due to my father in law driving, we were dead last to arrive, which also means we got the front of the boat, because veteran boat fisher-people know that the back of the boat is the calmest, while the front of the boat pitches and moves around a lot more. The trip was scheduled from 7-12:30 and it took us nearly 2 hours to get out to the first fishing hole. Along the way, we saw a dolphin jump once (big whoop!) and drove through a nasty rain squall that soaked everyone on board. Unfortunately, the wind also whipped up and I heard one of the mates tell someone, "Ya'll were only supposed to have 10 mph winds, but this is more like 25 mph." It was getting nasty out there.

Got to the first hole and started fishing. Now if you've ever seen the TV show, "Deadliest Catch," then you'll appreciate how bad the waves were. The swells and wind were getting so bad that it was next to impossible to fish because you had to hold onto the boat rails to keep from falling overboard. I started getting a little motion sick, so I opted to put my pole up for a while and head to the back of the boat till my tummy settled. Famous last words...

An hour later, I'm sitting in the middle of a bench seat in the back, staring at a spot on the wall trying to ignore how sea sick I've gotten. But, I have company. My brother in law is right beside me. He said "I'm hyperventilating trying not to puke. And my hands and feet have gone all tingly and I feel like I'm going to pass out."

My bladder finally gets the best of me, and knowing it will be very tough because of the motion of the ocean, I head to the bathroom to pee. That was the straw that broke the camel's back. On the way back, I kept walking right past my seat and headed to the back where nobody was fishing and I fed the sea my Pop-Tart and coffee. I was the first to throw up...but Oh...I was NOT the last. I threw up again about an hour later...by then it was all dry heaves. By the end of the boat ride, I counted at least 8 others. The only people not puking, were the ones smart enough to take Dramamine before leaving.

Needless to say, the next 3.5 hours were possibly the worst I've ever lived through. I didn't talk...I didn't move around...I didn't dare close my eyes and try to sleep. All I did was lie there and try not to puke any more.

The boat finally docked and it was a quiet bunch of us (6 of us "men" went) on the way home. Walked into the house and they took one look at us and knew it had been bad.

That's it for today....I'll try and finish this off sometime this weekend.

Cue the scary Bach music please...

Please read this with Bach's "Toccata and Fugue in D Minor" playing in the Bach of your mind (Oh my! I couldn't resist!)

In less than 30 hours, we will begin our trip to the beach with the extended family. Consisting of the following:
- 21 adults (over-21 counts here)
- 17 children
- 2 pregnant women, both around 7 months

Does it get any scarier than that? The simple adult-to-child ratio is enough to make even the most veteran of parents think twice. My wife and I were joking last night about how we're going to spend a week at the beach, and not once will there be even the slightest sliver of a chance that we'll get a romantic moment alone. We sort of half-kidded that we could designate one night alone for each couple, letting the other parents watch their kids, but then decided the thought of some of the family behind their closed door having the S-E-X was just too icky to ponder and so we nixed our idea.

The big plan is to get the car packed tonight. I'll take the dogs over to the sitter's tomorrow, then we'll all get in the car and go to the park where we will encourage our oldest son to run his little heart out. Then, once properly hydrated and full of snacks, the thought is that he'll take a nap while we drive. Same for the little guy. He stays awake as long as we're outside, so hoping we can put him in his carseat and he'll sleep at least an hour or two. Wish us luck.

I worked from home yesterday and doing so today and I gotta tell ya...with this job...when I say I'm working from home, I'm actually working from home (with the exception of blogging time, which doesn't count). It sucks to be working from home and not being able to do any personal stuff. I saw a survey of how people who "work from home" spend their time and it was something like less than 30% of people who said they spend more than 3 hours actually working. I'm definately in the minority.
So anyway, have a great weekend. With luck I'll blog about this hell..I mean "whole" escapade when I get back next Friday.
Love ya!

For Vacation...Can we just stay home and sleep?

July 4th on a Wednesday. There should be a law that says, "If a holiday involving two of our country's favorite pasttimes, drinking and fireworks, falls on a day that does not allow our citizens to sleep in after the next day, this it should be moved to accomodate such a time."

Since no story-like words will adequately represent this blog like the bare hard facts will, I present them to you bare bones:

A.M.
6:00 Oldest son up at butt-crack of dawn. Get him settled on the couch with juice and cartoons. Drink coffee, fetch things for eldest son...try to enjoy some quiet time on the porch while it's still cool out.
7:45 I go to gym while wife stays home. Youngest son still sleeping.
8:45 Get home, pretty much same situation except youngest son just woke up (treat!)
9:15 Head out to meet local family at park for a morning of wild youngin's and bagels. For them, this is breakfast. For us, it is a mid-morning snack.
11:30 Whew! It got hot. Coming home.

PM
12:00 Wife takes computer desk (spare) over to youngest brother's house as they just moved in and computer is on the floor due to now spare furniture.
12:30 I coax youngest son into a nap; playing trains with eldest.
2:30 Wife comes home after dropping off desk and grocery shopping for the "week from hell" (AKA: vacation at the beach with in-laws). Continued train playing. I also complain of not feeling well and being tired.
3:00 In an effort at sloughing off tiredness, go outside and chop wood for the oh-so-frigid Atlanta winters to come when the sun enters a significant cooling period (eat it global warmers!)
5:45 Start "surf n turf" dinner on grill (kabobs with skrimps and lobster tail) (p.s. it was not my best effort, but hard to grill beef and seafood on same grill and keep it all hot for serving)

AH, the real fun begins!

7:30 Youngest son ready for bed. Wife puts him down whilst I bathe eldest.
8:15 Eldest son watches some "Thomas the Tank Engine" (a nightly ritual...that or "The Wiggles")
8:45 Wife and eldest son leave to go watch fireworks. I stay home with young one.
9:45 Both return elated. Eldest son goes to bed.
10:40 After listening to neighbor intermittently shoot off fireworks, finally go out shirtless, "Bill! How many more do you have?" Bill's reply: "We're done." I mutter, "Goddang right you're done a**hole."
11:30 I just fell asleep when youngest son wakes up. Wife tends to him.
3:15 Youngest son wakes up again, I get up. Find he's totally soaked head to toe in urine. Diaper is soaked, so is bed and clothes. Stick bottle in his mouth to keep him quiet while change him, then try and change bed sheets. Stupid crib bumpers tied in knots (all 18 of them, and it was NOT my doing). After successfully untying a few in the dark (because heaven forbid you turn the lights on and wake the baby up for sure!) I finally get out the scissors and cut the Goddang things. Know wife will be furious, but since this is the second child's crib bumpers I'll have done these to, don't claim ignorance of my frustration.

Let me explain here for a second for those who think my actions a little "over the top." When you put these crib bumbers in, you in effect, trap the mattress in the crib and the only way to get the mattress out, is by removing the bumpers. Now, you can remove the mattress without removing the bumpers, but believe me A) not in the dark and B) not without significant effort and swearing. I know they are supposed to keep little one's feet and hands from getting trapped in the slats, but they also offer a suffocation hazard (so hah!).
I also have significant doubts as to whether or not a 4-month old could have that much pee from the 11:30 feeding. Suspect she just didn't want to bother changing him. (Oh and...not the first time this has happened).

4:00 Lying in bed trying to go back to sleep and wife gets up to pump. WTF?!! You mean, I got up, tended to the baby, got all pissed off so that I can't sleep, only to have her get up a couple of minutes later anyway to go pump? Now I'm really jazzed. The only thing that can possibly calm me down now, is watching Fox Mulder and Dana Scully investigate some psychic bad guys on late-night TV.
4:30 Bow to pressure and turn off TV. Don't immediately fall alseep. When do, dream weird stuff about the curly haired kid from "That 70s Show" giving me a car. Very odd.
6:00 I hear "thump thump" and realize it's past time to get up. Find oldest son wide awake despite having gone to bed later.

My day starts. And you wonder why I don't look forward to weekends anymore.

Things that should go without saying...

As many of you know, my wife's family is having a huge beach get-together the week after the 4th. There are currently 40 of us scheduled to mostly stay in one house. If you know anything about me at all, you probably know that me and crowds...not so much. So it is with great trepidation that I approach next week.

But perhaps I've got it all wrong in thinking that my wife's family is soooo looking forward to this trip. In fact, I know my wife isn't. She has come to realize the horrors of sharing one room with our 4 month old son and our 3 year old son. One or the other would be fine, but not both.

Most interesting, is this little note added to the beach preparation wiki by my wife's mom:

In case you can't read it, it says, "First and foremost, let's bring: Lots of safety-concious, love, patience, joy and thankfulness."

Besides just making me want to puke, it illustrates that she at least, recognizes that this coming week will be trying for all. I feel sorry for her really though. Her mom is the one sponsoring this little gathering (and by sponsoring, I mean spending the $10K to rent the house for a week), however, she's in her 80s and must be wheeled around everywhere. The beach is not the best place for handicapped people, which means my wife's mom will end up spending all her time helping her mom rather than enjoying one of the few times in her life she'll have all of her 7 kids and associated grandkids with them.

Maybe this message is more of a mantra she wrote for herself rather than for anyone else. Alls I know is, when the going gets tough, the tough go fishing. If anyone needs me, I'll be down on the beach catching baby sharks for all the kiddies to play with.

You just saw what?

Here in the Atlanta area, we have no shortage of wrecks and traffic. In fact, our traffic woes begat wrecks and vice versa. No matter how many lanes of highway we build on either side of the middle median, whenever a wreck occurs on one side, it not only boogers up traffic on its side but also on the opposite side. This phenomenon is due to something we call "rubberneckers." In fact, one fella went so far as creating an entire Web site devoted to the Atlanta rubbernecker phenom. It's truly amazing.

In addition to traffic accidents causing rubbernecking, I've noticed that as I'm driving down the road (not the interstate mind you), that if there happens to be an attractive lady walking/jogging along the side, that traffic in the lane nearest the lady (or sometimes young teenage girl) suddenly slows. It's like watching a traffic light domino effect. Astute drivers learn to look ahead of where they are and anticipate this slow down, while cell-phone talkers and nose pickers are caught unaware and end up slamming on their brakes.

However, today I saw a first in my rubbernecking experience, and while part of me says, "it's about time," the other part of me says, "Oh dear Lord, help us all!"

So, I'm driving down the road on my way home and as I near my house, I notice a couple of shirtless young men jogging on the side of the road, and would you believe that at least six cars ahead of me hit their brakes to take a looky? And mind you, these "men" were probably around 16 years old...so not really hunky men either...just guys. Now, this is pretty par for the course as far as men oggling women goes--it doesn't really matter what she looks like, guys will take a look just to look, and apparently, women are no different.

And I know what you're thinking, and yes, I can confirm that at least two of the cars that hit their brakes, were occupied by women. Of course, you'd just about have to be a hermit to not notice that women have been coming into their own in the last decade and I suppose that along with our jobs, women would also start assuming our behavior as well, but I just don't know if it's such a good thing. For one, psychologists and "sex therapists" may have to adjust their belief that men are visually driven and women are emotionally driven. From what I've seen lately, a good many women I know find a hot guy just as satisfying as we gents find a good looking women. That's certainly true at the gym and I'm betting it's becoming fairly common across the board.

But hey, "tit for tat" ladies. Why not enjoy the body that we men slave over? Married or single, guys can't honestly say that we suffer through exhausting workouts and day after day of sore muscles just so we look good to ourselves in the mirror. 'Bout time someone noticed and appreciated all the hard work.

So ladies, take a piece of advice from me and take this newfound freedom you have and use it to your advantage. Tell those guys they look good. Ask them out on a date and hell, offer to pay...why not? Most of you make as much money as we do now anyway. You probably got $5 off at the Quick-E lube on "Ladies Tuesday" anyway, so throw caution to the wind and splurge a little. Trust me, when it comes to an aggressive woman, guys really won't mind, as long as it's directed towards mutually satifying activities.