If I could get paid to do this....

Here's the deal. If you don't know this about me, let me hit you with some knowledge. I have no problem with product endorsement. If I like something I tell people unequivocally. Conversely, if something sucks I feel free to give it both barrels and I hope others will be that honest with me.

No, I am not adding advertisements to this page.

I saw a Craigslist ad and I am responding to it. WonderDads (It was a Charlotte listing but the WonderDads website doesn't have a Charlotte selection. Durham is the closest city.) is looking for writers. They are paying noting for this initial article but if your article receives 5000 hits you will be published in a collection of other stories and are eligible for paid projects. I intend to write an article here, submit it to them, and when I find out the location, link the bajeezus out of it on facebook. That is probably everyone else's plan too, but I hope I have a head start with you guys.

Either way, nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?

My topic, "The Parts of Star Wars You Need to Skip to Play it for Your x-Year Old - What Parts to Fast Forward Based on Ages 3, 4, 5, 6." With that, I intend to dive right in.



Star Wars is easily my favorite movie. One of my earliest memories is sitting on the floor of the den where I grew up, playing with legos in the shag carpet and watching Episode IV: A New Hope, with my Dad. He was pivotal in the watching process because I was maybe 3 years old and many of the aliens have subtitles. I begged him to read what they said every time.

Today, I am a father of two. To answer your question, of COURSE I have watched Star Wars with my kids. For my son the subtitles aren't as big a deal as the introduction. It must be read, on cue with the music. Every time.

I have been asked what scenes I don't let them watch. I find this question ridiculous. I let him watch the whole movie. Please let me explain why.

If you are going to fast forward a scene to keep your kids from watching it, that implies you are there watching it with them. Yes, I'm sure someone out there has one of those wicked-awesome high tech DVD players that you can program to skip scenes. Well, I don't. Also, if my kids are watching something with me I can pause the movie and explain how my wife and I feel about scenes we disagree with. Someone is now frothing-at-the-mouth mad and yelling at their computer screen. I accept that, but allow me to continue.

I don't want to hide my kids from the world. I want to teach them how to walk in the world and filter for themselves what is right and wrong. I am aware he is 3 and doesn't understand a lot of things, but I refuse to take for granted that he doesn't understand more than I realize. Also, I'm not watching the creepy heart removal scene from Temple of Doom with the little guy, give me some credit. However, some of the lessons are self evident. As an example, here are some talking points for watching Star Wars with your kids.

1. No matter how awesome you are, cutting people's arms off in a bar isn't cool.

2. See all these words? Learning to read is important!

3. The floating needle ball thing is ridiculously creepy and kinda scares me too.

4. Luke gave Leia the blaster and she gave it back. Even grown-ups have to share.

5. See how the Death Star blew up? There were janitors and construction workers on there who may not have been on-board with blowing up Alderaan, just working a job. But, they are still suffering the same consequences as Grand Moff Tarkin. Picking your friends and where you hang out is important. Guilt by association is a legitimate concern.

While I may see the movie, and how to raise kids, differently than a lot of people, I feel the bottom line is communication and interaction. Whether I'm right or wrong, rather than my kids seeing me hiding things from them, I want them to see opportunities to ask me questions and talk about things they don't understand. Am I protecting them from things? Of course! But I purposely pick the movies we watch as a family so we watch them beginning to end. (500)



That is what I intend to submit. I may revise it a tad, we will just have to see. Also, if you think I should add or take anything away, please let me know.

Father's Day 2.0

Today marks my third Father's day as a dad. If you count CA being preg with the boy as a celebrateable then its the fourth, but the kidless "we're gonna be parents" feeling always seemed awkward to me. First, to those of you saying, "Happy Father's day," Thank you and please consider the sentiment returned where appropriate. Second, I have some suggestions on how we can improve Father's day. Seeing as how I'm a dude, I don't think my "improving" things should come as a surprise to anyone.

There are three main propositions I have regarding Father's day. Recognition, Timing and Qualification.

Recognition: I don't think I'm the bestest dad ever... Well, I sorta do, as I have mentioned before, but I see other dads and my own dad and see them doing things that I want to do. Some of these things come with age of the kiddos, and some require me stepping things up.

I have a friend named Bill. He has three teenagers who think he is the best guy ever. And so they should, cause he is a really cool dude and a great dad. Obviously I can't do things yet with my kids that he does with his, but I see him and it gives me ideas and goals. Many of my friends are teaching their kids a second language. I am trying to do that, but I'm not exactly fluent when it comes to habla-ing the Espanol. Nevertheless, I am trying.

What does this have to do with recognition? I think there should be some more perks short term for dads. (I feel the same should go for moms too on Mothers day, but I'm not a mom.) Can we get this holiday federally recognized? Maybe not a paid holiday but can a brother get a 3-day weekend at least? If we are celebrating dad's give them some time to celebrate. Also, maybe a parade. Not Macy's Thanksgiving size... At first. But maybe some local parades where the floats indicate what local dads are doing. A float of a dad and his kids having a catch, while actually having a catch on the float sounds wicked cool to me. Rather than a lame giant balloon of Charlie Brown, maybe one of Bill, or my dad, or someday (Dare I be so crass? Yes, I dare.) me? Everybody loves a parade. I'm especially jazzed about this idea after watching some of the Mavericks Championship Parade.

Timing: Speaking of The Dallas Mavericks (Did I mention they were the 2011 Champions? GO MAVS!) It makes me think, what is something Dads as a whole stereotypically like? Sports! Baseball is the only option for sports to watch on Father's day. So I propose we go back to the coupon system. Remember when you made your mom a coupon book cause you were too broke for a nice gift and chores are free? Same idea, but for Father's day. So if you don't dig baseball, or waiting a million hours for a seat in a restaurant in June, you can pull out the coupon for Father's day whenever. If you wanted to be uninterrupted to watch the Bruins crush the Canucks... Coupon. Go fishing for a whole day when tuna are running? Coupon. Its a Sunday football game and the Cowboys are playing the Redskins and SOMEBODY is gonna get beat... bad! (I would like to note I purposely took no side here, though I am a Cowboy fan because Bill and his wife are Redskins fans. Especially his wife Sherrie.) You guessed it! COUPON!

Overall I think the flexibility of the day should reflect the interests of the dad. There are just some things you can't do in June.

Also, maybe make the coupon split up! 24, 1 hour segments would be ridiculous. Who want's to keep track of that? Also, the level of abuse is unimaginable. "Honey, can you take out the trash?" One hour coupon!

I propose it can break into 4, 6 hour segments. Is it fair that I have to sleep for half of Father's day? NO! As a father of two kids under four years old, I can testify that sometimes sleep time is daddy time. I grudgingly accept that part of being a dad is being old. I can't stay up to all hours like I used to. I feel I should be able to capitalize on a full 24 hours of Father's day. With this, I can watch the Canucks lose, and the Mavs win. Double prizes! At best this buys 4 solid afternoons which I believe to be fair.

Having mentioned the coupon idea, I would now like to extrapolate it. Which brings me to...

Qualification: Uncle Ben said, "With great power comes great responsibility."

*Deep theatrical sigh*

You don't know who Uncle Ben is? Not the rice guy. Ben Parker. Spiderman's uncle. Go rent the movie if you haven't seen it. Its solid.

Now the math guy in me says there is an equation afoot. If power=responsibility then the reverse is also true responsibility=power. Negotiating is the art of turning power into rewards. So if power can be turned into rewards, our equation now becomes responsibility=rewards.

Where am I going with all this? Thank you for asking!

Like I said, this is my third Father's Day as a dad, but I've celebrated two of them with two kids instead of one. It seems that there should be indication of the added child. A guy who is a lousy father of one, right now, gets a day of recognition the same as I do. I have double the kids he does. Arguably I work harder that he does. Or Bill who has three kids? Or unnamed guy I haven't mentioned yet and probably won't mention again who has 4 or 5 kids? I'm thinking you give credit where credit is due.

Remember those coupons? I again propose a mathematic solution. The Fibonacci sequence 1-1-2-3-5... but fractionized. For the first two kids you get a full coupon each. The third a 1/2 the fourth a 1/3 ect.

I know you think I'm crazy. But its, "Why can't we slice the bread before we package it?" Crazy.

Under this new method, each year (for now) I am entitled to 2 days in coupons per year. Bill gets 2 and a half. Unnamed gets 2 5/6 which we can round to 3.

Now, why have I gone to such lengths? Here is the thought that blows the mind.

What if these coupons worked like rollover minutes?

A guy can take a pass on ties for a few years and bide his time till the kids are in Junior High School. "What are you doing next week dude?" "Pssh that's October, 2017... I'm going to Vegas for a month for Father's Day!"

While I realize some of these ideas are less feasible, a guy can dream. Also, dreaming takes time and I am thankful to my lovely wife for wrangling the kids and giving me time to write this. Happy Fathers Day to all the dads out there.

The Awesomest Dad Ever! ... Sort of

You ever have one of those days that you can feel is going to be great with every fiber of your being?

Have you ever had someone try to help you out and after a lot of work on their part they only succeed at making a lot more work for you?

I had a big day last week.

I woke up and rolled out of bed and stretched. Today was going to be a great day. I was up before the kids which in itself is doing good. I made a cup of coffee and sipped it as I checked the beacon of communication that Western Civilization is founded upon. Facebook.

If it tells you how saucy I felt, I set my Facebook status to, "I'm calling it. Its a get stuff done day." That's right. I called the day out and told it to bring it. I'm a stay at home dad! No, check that, a Stay At Home DAD! I was ready to earn the capital letters in my title. And earn them I did.

In a nutshell my morning consisted of making a full breakfast for the kids, no shortcuts for Superdad, emptying and reloading the dishwasher, mowing the lawn, and cleaning up the toys and vacuuming the den. If you're thinking that sounds like a big morning, you're very right. Normally I would call that a big DAY. I won't lie. But for whatever reason I had a bug up my butt and I was going to be awesome!

Among all of the stay at home parents there is a story, nay a LEGEND of a mythical beast to be caught and tamed. A creature so rare to even think its name and breathe is to scare it off and jinx your plan. The unicorn of the stay at home profession is none other than the afternoon nap.

Not for the kids... For the Parent.

The problem is that everyone thinks as a stay at home parent, daily naps are a given. If you think that, you are completely incorrect. Kids do stuff. All the time. Naps take planning, luck and skill. Think of the opening scene of Raiders of the Lost Ark. You are Indiana Jones, the nap is the golden idol and the kids who are a little too quiet are the poison darts, sinking pedestal and giant rolling rock of impending doom. Also, those guys outside with the spears and arrows. The "restless native" imagery is surprisingly accurate for young children.

Matter of fact, all us stay at homes need to stick together. I say we institute Fight Club rules. The first rule about the midday nap is you do not talk about the midday nap.

I have mentioned Quiet Time before. It is that magical time of silence in the house midday. I had run both kids ragged so all they wanted to do was sit in their room. Without thinking about it (cause to think is to jinx, remember?) I grabbed a pillow and hit the couch.

I remember a large percentage of my dreams. In this dream I was receiving an award for the best Dad, of all times, EVER! I wish I could draw so you could see the trophy they gave me. It was about the size of the Stanley Cup, but rather than rings of names this had a mountain of other dads. One side was guys who had been the Best Dad of all Times, Ever the other side was loser dads who wanted to ME the Best Dad of All Times, Ever. I distinctly remember seeing Philip of Macedonia (Alexander the Great's dad) and Ron Perlman (I don't know if he is a dad but he's awesome) on the good dad side. And on the bad dad side I remember seeing Darth Vader, and Bad Blake from Crazy Heart. The coolest part was that all the dads were moving. The statue was like a photograph from Harry Potter's newspapers. The good dads were all cheering and the bad dads were all saying how they weren't that bad. I woke up having spoken with Darth Vader for a while on the merits of parenting.

Needless to say. I should have taken the dream as being awesome and moved on.

I did not.

I decided I was gonna rock the party and be truly the Best Dad of all Times, Ever.

But how could I do this? I needed a real clencher to put the icing on the cake. I knew CA would get home and be excited the lawn was mowed and the house was still standing. I wanted to REALLY knock her socks off.

I marinated some chicken and tossed it in the rotisserie. Would Dinner be enough? Of course not. One of our dogs is a Yorkie. CA had been mentioning for a few days that we needed to shave the dog. This is a CA job, not an RK job. I assist when it comes to dog haircuts. Had I ever shaved a dog before? No. Had I watched kids while shaving a dog alone? Also, no. Did I have any idea how much of a mess I was going to make? Very much, no. But I thought, "I shave my own head all the time and how much different can it be, really"? Answer? A lot.

Ginger, the yorkie, was accepting of her fate. We had a couple days of ridiculously hot weather and I think she knew I was trying to help her out. I grabbed the clippers and put her in the bathtub. I couldn't find the guards for the clippers and rather than facing logic decided I could make it work. This is henceforth known as mistake number one.

I trimmed the first side really quickly and easily. She wanted to lay in that side so it helped. It didn't look great, but it didn't look bad. I was easily going to win the argument that she looked overall better. Then the kids came running in. I needed a quick fix to buy me some time to finish the dog's haircut. I gave the kids a snack and set them at their picnic table on the porch in the shade. Because I'm so awesome I gave them fruit and juice. No crappy unhealthy snacks for my kids! Mistake number two.

I reacquired the dog and went to work on the other side. This proved more challenging since she didn't want to lay on that side, or remain in the tub where the kids with snacks weren't. With most of her body, and none of her head done the kids arrived. Cherries, oranges and juice get wicked sticky.

You know how you think octopus suction cups would feel? I felt a small hand on the back of my neck and it attached with that same SMACK of suctiony attachment. As I felt this I turned and saw the Daughterchild, who had removed her shirt, spilled cherries all down her front, allowed it to partially congeal and was grinning ear to ear, proud of her achievement.

I don't think I screamed but I know I jumped. This startled The Boy who had snuck up on my other side to see what I was doing. He jumped back and hit a bucket of bath toys that had water in it. The bucket and toys and water, with all the grace and silence of a falling jazz band landed in the tub with all the cacophony you would expect.

Ginger was not amused.

The now wet half shaved dog did her best to jump from the tub and make a run for the door.

I caught the dog and because she was wet shaving her further was impossible. I washed her and cut her loose. I cleaned the tub and tossed the two sticky incarnate children in the tub.

CA got home as I got the kids out of the tub. And we met in the kitchen.

To my horror, before finding me and swamp monstering my neck, the kids had taken out all the previously put away toys.

CA's first words. "Hey baby, I saw the dog. She looks cute-ish. What do I smell? Is something burning?"

"Yeah, its dinner cause I'm awesome."

Good news is that dinner mostly wasn't burnt and the house cleaned itself up pretty easily. Also, from a distance the dog looks cute. You can't see the bald spots or the missed spots that look like she has an extra leg. As evidenced by the photo above.

While I may not be a candidate for Best Dad of all Times, Ever; I feel I made good progress on the day. I figure with all award shows out there, there's always next time.

A Tale as Old as Time

There is a rivalry that is known in all lands. It predates us all and is as inevitable as the sunrise. It is bitter, ruthless and uncontested as the most savage of relationships.

Texas vs. OU? No, more savage.

Sibling Rivalry? No, OLDER!

I am referring, of course to PIRATES and NINJAS.

I don't know how my kids decided on where their allegiances lie, but it seems they have fallen into opposite factions in this battle. And that means its gonna be AWESOME to watch.

Seriously, like better than pay-per-view, awesome.

As their dad I know I should try to forge a temporary truce and not promote fighting and disharmony. However, as a spectator my mind resembles one of the brainless "mom's basement" dwellers that pack themselves into a stadium for Monday night RAW!

I know good parenting means not favoring one child, so after today's battle I have settled on attire of a black T-shirt (Go NINJA!) and a blue doo rag (Arrrrghhhh!).

What has prompted all this you ask?

This morning the kids were getting dressed to go outside. We do early outside time because of late it has gotten stupid hot by 11 or so. The kids were sitting on the floor. The Boy was dressed and playing with Mega Blocks. The Daughterchild didn't have shoes on, but was otherwise dressed and wearing a mesh trucker hat of mine. The hat has no real bearing on the story other than being pulled down low because it was huge on her and this lent to the mystery of not being able to see an opponent's face.

Building with Mega Blocks for a 3 year old, and anyone really, is barely 3 dimensional. In the sense that walls and fences are 3-D so are Mega Block constructions. Without flat pieces you lack detailed expansive models. I say that to explain that anything you build looks like a wall. "Its a Dinosaur!" Until you turn it, then its the side view of a wall. "Its a building!" Like a Hollywood backdrop. You get the idea. They all look like walls till someone says, "Its a ...." and you get a profile view. Little known fact, it is a finely honed skill to see a blockstrosity and be able to tell a child you can tell what it is before they explain it to you. This is true for drawings too.

**Quick peek behind the curtain** One of the tricks is listening while they build or draw. Rockets, boats and planes don't make the same noises as swords and dinosaurs being built. If you can catch a whoosh or a roar in the imaginative drawing process, it narrows down the selection. A LOT.

The Boy was sitting in front of the Daughterchild who was puzzling over her shoes. Half of her shoe problems were due to them being put on the wrong feet. The other half was that her attention was not on the task but on her brother's block monstrosity.

The Boy turned the newly constructed, but as yet unidentified, block construct towards the Daughterchild and said, "See? Its a gun! I have a gun like a pirate! I shoot you, ok?"

As the newly defined block gun was being pointed at my daughter many thoughts raced through my mind. Gun safety, "I've told them not to point guns at each other," and most importantly, "Where in the world did he hear pirates have guns?"

I needn't have worried. The hat shrouded face of my daughter gave no indications of her actions. Quick as a hiccup, from a sitting position, she flung her foot out in a roundhouse kick Chuck Norris would have been proud of. As her bare foot hit the block gun in his hands, she shouted, "BABY NINJA!"

There is some base thrill with watching block constructions explode on impact. I have no explanation for it but both children share this excitement with me.

Like all the atoms in a molecule returning to their basest forms, the block gun disintegrated leaving only a block in each of The Boy's hands, and remnants filling the hall randomly. He sat, stunned looking at his near empty hands as she grinned and reached to pick up the shoe her foot had left behind. They sat staring at each other for what felt like eons. And I sat staring at them wishing I had popcorn and a video camera. I didn't know how this interchange would end, but happily they both laughed, put her shoes on (the correct feet) and went outside to play. Any parent can tell you this beats the alternative.

Closing thoughts?

Pirate-0 Ninja-1

Why I Don't Write More Often

Lots of people want me to write this blog...

Ok so by 'lots of people' I mean my wife, family and a couple friends. Truth be told, I really want to write this blog. I have a lot of funny things happening to me and I want to share and remember them. Today I posted the Robot Monster story which was pretty much copy and paste from facebook and change the names to protect the innocent. No sweat right?

You are wrong. In fact, you could not be more wrong. You could try, but you would not be successful.

I now reference the ravaged stick of butter in the picture.

"Oh goodness," you say? Perhaps, "Where is the rest of that stick of butter"? Or the parents among you, "Are those the fingerprints of a 2 year old"?

The remainder of the butter is covering the Daughterchild. Yes, she now has an oily sheen to her that is reminiscent of a college frat party wrestling match I am already forbidding her from participating in.

She was out of my sight for 5 minutes. Five very quiet minutes. By the time the feeling of "Oh God its too quiet," had registered in my brain the damage was done. She was trying to hug the dog, who was licking her leg happily.

As a stay at home dad, I have to be an attentive, busy dude. I intend to work on integrating time for writing in my schedule but its sadly gonna take more time than I like.

Lesson of the day: In parenting, if you stop paying attention for a second you end up doing hours of avoidable work.

The Saga of the Robot Monster

I was putting the kiddos to bed last night and I asked The Boy if he wanted to say his prayers. As usual he was wicked excited. He held hands with me and The Daughterchild and proceded to drop this number on me.

"Jesus name and thank you for safe. And Mommy and Sister safe. And thank you for us watch Ratty Tootie and go to sleep for a long long long time. And not let the robot monsters to get me... this time. Safe again and again and again. The End. Amen."

In telling this to others there was fear (probably legitimate) that my near obsession with Star Wars may be causing life scarring issues with the kiddos. I felt it was time to share the full story of the Robot Monster Saga. If for no other reason than to vindicate Star Wars, possibly the greatest Science Fiction movie ever.

When I was two (my parents have told me) that I use to say I couldn't go to bed because, "Monsters were eating my mattress."

The Boy has a similar problem. One night while I was still driving truck for a living, he began telling CA he couldn't go to bed cause there were Robot Monsters in his bedroom. Explaining that there were no monsters was a fruitless effort. CA, being who she is, and way more creative than me, grabbed a trash bag and I think a shoe. She went in The Boy's room, told him to stay in the hall and shut the door. She banged on the walls, slammed the closet door a few times and filled the trash bag with air and twisted the top.

When she came out shaking the bag shouting, "I got it!" The Boy was in the hall with eyes the size of dinner plates.

"What you do Mommy?"

"I got the robot monster. I'm taking him outside to put him in the trash."

The Boy watched attentively from the window as she went outside, opened the trash can and put the empty bag, that later deflated, in the trash can and slammed the lid down tight. She shot him a thumbs up. He returned it and went to bed without a problem.

Its very important you understand that she told me NONE of this.

We live in the boondocks and don't have trash pick up. Once or twice a week I run the cans to the dump which is maybe 2 miles away.

I asked The Boy a few days later if he wanted to go with me to the dump (He pronounces it tha doomp). He was of course more thrilled than a hound dog to be going for a ride in the car. He ran out, opened the door and hopped in his car seat and began trying to buckle the seat belt. I buckled his seat belt and everything was super-terrific!

And then I put a trash can in the back of the SUV.

He came UNHINGED! I mean Defcon 1-the sky is falling-Godzilla at the Tokoyo city limits loss of control.

I had no idea why.

Between tears and howls he "explained" (*read* I was able to almost understand and piece together) that 1. there were robot monsters in the trash 2. they were bad and 3. gonna get him.

This made no sense to me, but I went with it. I showed him the trashcan lids can't come off easy and that they were in the back back, not in his seat. Also, I let him hold my Zombie Hammer ( its an 18 inch framing hammer I keep in the car in case of Zombie Apocalypse) "just in case" and that helped a lot.

When we got to the dump I unbuckled The Boy's seat belt and let him watch the trash go into the compactor. Then the attendant (which is a whole different story in itself) crushed the trash. Then he compacted it a second time for The Boy "just to be sure." He was referring to the squishing of the trash, but The Boy took it to mean he was really giving it to the robot monsters, who I assumed deserved it. The Boy and I looked in the cans to make sure they were empty and put them back in the car. We drove home and put the cans up.

I told CA what happened and she howled the whole time. Also, I think she insisted upon a pee break while I was telling the story. Then she told me her half of the story.

Since then, we rarely have had issues with the Robot Monsters, and The Boy ALWAYS wants to go with me to tha doomp.

So I remember

Ok, so I started in January and I'm a little light on the "many" part. For now I want to preserve some anonymity for my wife and kids. I can refer to myself with 1st person pronouns with little confusion on the part of others. One of my pet peeves however is a sentence, spoken or written, where they or them is used to describe 2 or more parties. I find too much brain power is required to decipher the desired result. When presented with this scenario I usually purposely misconstrue what is being said.

Hey, sometimes when my brain hurts I'm a bit of a jerk... sue me.

To avoid confusion (on my part, not necessarily yours as a reader) I am listing a general collection of the characters I expect to run in to in my tales. I will add to this as need be.

Me:Me
My Wife:CA
Our Son: The Boy
Our Daughter: The Daughterchild

As you can see these are pretty straight forward. In the future I intend to use names of similar simplicity. Ex. My mother-in-law is going to be My Favorite Mother-in-Law.

As I said, this is more for me than for you guys. Thanks for your patience. Now for something worth reading.

The First of Many

"Quiet Time" is almost over so I don't have long to bring you up to speed. I'm gonna move fast so try to keep up.

I'm a 33 year old dad. Until 2 days ago I was working and my wife stayed home with the kids. We have a 3 year old boy and a 19 month old daughter. Yes, I realize I'm passing the opportunity to insert a quip about their ages being close together, yada yada yada but as I said, I'm on a deadline.

My wife invented Quiet Time for our son. Our daughter still naps during the day, but if he naps he is up till Oh Dark thirty. Quiet Time is when he has to stay in his room and play with toys and not wake the baby. In a word, my wife is a super-genius.

So my wife is at her first day of work. I am amidst my first day of full time stay at home dad. This blog is to let you know how that works out. I don't intend to capture every moment of every day, I don't tweet for that very reason. However, I was cleaning today and had a moment.

Vacuuming is an ordeal in my home. My kids are petrified of the noise of the vacuum makes when it fires up and they don't dig on the light coming at them. It is my responsibility as a good parent, (which I like to think I am) to notify them on impending vacuum start-ups. Think NASA countdowns, and the poor shlubs NASA moved next door to.

Having told the kids the vacuum would start soon and given them the time to hide I began working. I was really getting it too. I was using the crevice tool and everything. I feel the need to say this because 1. Its my wife's first day at work so I really wanted to make a noticeable dent in the housework. and 2. That's what guys do. When we do a job right we want credit. Not a reason why we should do it right every time.

So I'm really workin till the vacuum begins making a noise like it has a plastic toy horn in it. I am well enough versed in vacuum usage that I know when it needs fixing and how to do basic maintenance. I flip it over and look for the usual suspects. The roller thingy (actual technical term) doesn't look like a wookie has been visiting. I see no debris in the suction hole and nothing that should indicate a problem. I flip it back over, fire it back up and two things happen simultaneously.

First, the vacuum still sounds like a weeble wobble got sucked in it and is screaming while playing the french horn. Second, my kids who had snuck up behind me to see if the vaccuming was done, and the dogs who snuck up behind them to see what was interesting did not receive notice of the impending launch. The kids fled in fear, screaming bloody murder around the table and out of the room. This would have been easier if there had not been a yorkie and a lab who were frightened of the vacuum and also trying to turn around to flee.

After killing the vacuum and restoring a sense of order to the pile of fur and arms and legs, I went back to my repairs. In the detachable hose ending I found a ribbon wrapped in paper and a bit of toothpick. I found all this out later because at the time it was about a foot deep in the hose.

Wire hangers are of absolutely no use whatsoever, until you have to have one in a pinch. Needless to say, I didn't have one. I engineered a tool out of a piece of bamboo, electric tape and a plastic display rack hook from a hat the boy had recently worn for the first time.

As I fished the offending ribbon out, I thought, "I should really write this down. I would read this and think all this is funny." Not that I'm presumptuous enough to think I'm funnier than other people.

Well, actually I guess I am. I see things differently and do things differently than other people. Not in the redneck, "Ya wanna see somethin neat?" kind of way. Just a few degrees off plumb. Just enough off kilter that its worth taking a second look at.

I hope this blog allows me to convey some of what I see as a new Mr. Mom.

And to close I really need a new title. Michael Keaton is awesome but the name is a little 1985 for me.