I already do not like the education of girl.imp

I had a hard time staying quiet during the meet the teacher day, last week. She handed out a list of vocab. terms for her first grade students.

My first thought was cool! Girl.Imp finished the 6th Harry Potter book recently and did need help with a few of the words. This should help.

Then I saw the list was chock full of words like: Ice, swish and I.

I almost drew blood, biting my tongue. This was the vocab. list?

My shopping list at the grocery store is full of words much harder to pronounce.

It was at this point that wife.imp (during my first rant) reminded me I am somewhat of a literary snob.

Therefore I am offering my apologies here and now to any current and future teacher of my imps:

'You will not meet my expectations and standards and I might occasionally give you the impression that I do not approve of your techniques. It is merely that I am an overzealous prat and should considered slightly insane on occasions in which we have direct interaction. If I do approach you, the use of tranquilizers is approved.'

Name 1 of the top 3 Phone Calls you DO NOT want to receive, concerning your imps and school...

Ring Ring (oddly enough the Ring Tone on my cell phone is actually a telephone ring sound - also please take special note of the picture below. Can you guess where today's post is heading?)

me: Dennis speaking
: This is secretary at (your child's school)
me: Yes?
(you will note that my daddy radar is not fully formed at this time as it was AFTER 2:30 p.m. and I did not stop to consider why my imp's school would be calling me AFTER school was out for the day)
sec.imp: I am calling you because g.imp missed her bus today and...
me: she what?
sec.imp: She missed her bus. I tried to call...
me: she missed her bus?
sec.imp: Yes, she missed her bus. However she is in our office right now. I tried calling your wife but she did not answer. Can you come and pick her up?
me: uhhmmm, I'm actually at work (on the other side of creation today and you will be putting your own kids to bed before I can make it to your offices). Can I make some calls and call you back in 5-10 minutes? Yes? Can I have your number? and what was your name again? Thank you.

So hoping for the best I called wife.imp and miraculously found her at her desk.

wife.imp: Hello (wife.imp) speaking...
me: hey! g.imp missed her bus and you need to go pick her up at the school's offices.
(notice I did not butter her up with 'Hi Honey! How are you doing? How's your day? Are you busy right now? --Nope. Go for the jugular before they realize what hit them. Bad news is not any more welcome if it is delivered slowly or if it is delivered with cold, cruel efficiency. and yes, I am a grade-A ass for delivering the news in this manner)
wife.imp: she what?
me: missed her bus. She is at the school's office and here is the name and number you need to call.

What surprised me most about today's events was that g.imp FORGOT.SHE.WAS.RIDING.THE.AFTERNOON.BUS.

SHE.JUST.PLAIN.FORGOT

after being grilled all weekend on bus number, bus driver name, drop-off address, bus number...

Odds'N'Ends from our trip

When is it time to Go?:

Our first clue was when the imp, in whose house we were staying over the weekend, started running around the house on Friday (approximately 10 minutes after we arrived and lasting throughout the weekend) singing the following tune to our imps:
"Clean up! Clean up! It's time to clean up! Clean up! Clean up! Everybody Clean up! Clean up! Clean up!..."
----------------------------------------------

The Demise of Pluto:

Girl.imp told me that she to has agreed to the reclassification of Pluto. Meet Plutina!

----------------------------------------------

ABC's:

Boy.imp knows his alphabet (and I would have this on audio file but that is out of dad's skill set):

a b c d e f g h i j k emmelenno p q r s t u v w x y and z.

----------------------------------------------
Health and Beauty:

I have to report that wife.imp is not enthralled with my 'Let my hair grow until I lose 10 more pounds' plan to better health. She has indicated, mildly at first, her displeasure on many occasions. Just yesterday she intimated that I was sporty that 'greasy, unwashed look (knowing this all I need is a pair of overalls, a toothpick and a straw hat--preferably with part of the brim missing, and a banjo)'.

I was/am determined to use my lengthening locks as a means to encourage my weight loss (personally I do not want long hair, it is hot, hard to manage and totally throws off my 'swipe with towel then comb with my fingers' styling technique). Unfortunately, wife.imp is/was just as determined to see the crimson locks disappear.

We were starting an argument discussion when girl.imp tossed in her 'two cents' worth:

me: blah blah blabbity blah
wife.imp: blah blah blah blabbity blah
girl.imp: I have an idea! Daddy you do not want to cut your hair?
me: not yet baby.
g.imp: and mommy, you want daddy to cut his hair?
w.imp: uhhmm, yes.
g.imp: then what if daddy agrees to cut his hair if you agree to get on the treadmill all week.
w.imp: uhhmm...

I am not certain what wife.imp liked least; being cornered into starting her exercise regimen or being cornered into starting her exercise regimen by our 6-year-old imp!

At least the food was hot!

So we went here this weekend. Drove over 600 miles to see the King Tut exhibit, as girl.imp is highly interested in pharoahs and we would probably never see this exhibit again. I learned 3 things about the museum this weekend.

1) Imps that find out they cannot tour their chosen exhibit (tickets were sold out! At an effing museum?? WT-effing-F???) are not happy. So to appease the troops and prevent an outright revolt, we were forced to look for food. Imps, especially my imps, can be bribed with food. The worse it is for your health the easier it gets.

2) So, in the bottom level of the museum, we found Nirvana!
Yes, we succumbed to the siren like song of frozen potato sticks being deep fried in golden oil. We allowed ourselves to become entranced with the sizzling, miniature explosions of melting beef fat and dove headlong into the misty perfume of frying meat.

We bought ourselves another hour at the museum! Not that we really needed the hour:

We saw a lowland gorilla carcass. It seems the former gorilla was the first lowland gorilla West
of the East coast held in captivity.

We saw a stuffed lioness that terrorized villages in Africa in the early 1990s.

We saw the Underground Adventure exhibit--yawn (but we paid an extra $7 for the nap -yes we
are bad parents but value for $$ is our paramount interest when opening the 'ole man purse 'o
cash).

Having been here before and not seeing anything really new and/or interesting we soon left.

600 miles for a quick trip to the golden arches...

3) Believe you me, the imps will be reminded of this trip when the situation warrants an iron-clad guilt trip!

So you really want to know about me?

So tell me about yourself. I am totally interested in learning about you...

In my dreams the speaker is a ravishing redhead with a lilting Irish accent (yes I fell in love with Maureen O'Hara years ago. Oddly enough I have only sat through two of her movies, "The Quiet Man" and "McClintock") .

In this dream I have no problem telling all. After all, as the song says, '...I wanna talk about me...'

But in reality, I can sometimes make clams appear to be more outgoing than Jim Carrey by comparison. In fact, I roomed with my younger sib in college and we could go days without saying word one to each other AND neither of us was upset with the other.

I know what you are thinking. Well, I actually do not but in my world it runs along the following:
'Really! You are an introvert? But you are so handsome and strong and smart! I am totally interested in learning about you and I so want you to tell me everything...'

Of course in this world you would also be a ravishing red-head...

Anyway when the MEME first came to my attention, I felt a burning sensation in the back of my head, somewhere in the rusted corroded region of my memories when I used to be outgoing. After the smoke cleared, I had an epiphony:

'Cool!' I said. 'I can do this! This should be fun!'

Then I found out there are only about 500 versions of these floating around and everybody has already done them--ages ago.

Plus, IF I am going to spend 2-3 hours filling out questionnaire with personal information, I had better be in line for a cushy government job or participating on a Game Show (Meredith Vieira, I am ready for the hot seat on 'Who Wants to be a Millionaire')

The thing is, MEME madness has left me. The fever is gone. The luster is tarnished.
So, why am I receiving 4 page lists in my emails from my friends?

I'd like to think that if they had a burning question about my life they could pick up the phone and ask...

I mean, just because I lost my phone book of personal numbers and cannot call anyone to let them know what has happened, they should still have my numbers -- right?

Small Spaces and angry Imps

Thinking back to the grand scheme this a.m. I have to ask myself, 'What are you, stoopid?'

I have to wonder at the inspiration that possessed my to believe taking the imps to a drive-thru oil change place, where we sat in the car while they worked, was a wonderful idea. I know the benefits are obvious:
1- they are in an enclosed area and can be easily controlled
2- 15 minutes or less, no sweat (they'll just sit back there calmly drinking their choc shakes)
3- What can possibly go wrong?


Now we will touch on a little bit of reality.

1- major line in the drive-thru lanes forces me to rearrange my schedule
2- the imps finish their shakes loooong before we go back and get in line
3- did you know these 'change your oil while you wait' places do other work as well? Work like fixing windshield cracks and chips. I did not know this!
4- having imps in enclosed spaces while hyped on sugar - with absolutely nothing to distract them can be hazardous to your health. Yes I mean you mister oil lube guy who is making me wait in line, in a hot car with screaming kids. Put down the clipboard and come on over here. I have something to show you!!
5- By all means take as much time as you want on working on our car. I'll just hold the screaming and thrashing boy.imp on my lap. Please ignore the occasional blast of the horn while you are under the hood. I'll be able to listen to your complaints as soon as the little one works out his own issues...

Things I found out that happened while I was in the car and did not notice:
1- girl.imp and boy.imp got my cell phone and made phone calls. They left messages with both the wife.imp and one of her co-workers. They called the co-worker because the wife.imp's message told them to call and gave them the number to dial.
2- my cell phone has games. Specifically bowling.
3- girl.imp currently holds the high score.

How fast they grow, or isn't it funny how those games we played as kids take on new meanings when we are parents??

Every now and again, the girl.imp says something that makes me realize just how much she has matured aged. Just yesterday last week a few months ago about three years ago I remember all she wanted to do in the car was sing 'The Wheels on the Bus' or play 'I Spy'.

Ahhh, the halcyon days of youth.

Today we were leaving her school (1st grade orientation) and going to the library for my weekly fix of books on tape, when she asked 'Can we play a game?'

me: sure, 'I Spy'? I spy with my wee little eye...
g.imp: dad! (meaning you dumb clueless hick! I'm too old for 'I Spy') Let's play 'Truth or Dare'!

WTF? I was -- well I was much older than six-years-old before I learned about 'Truth or Dare'. Hell, I was at least...before I heard about 'Spin the Bottle'! Truth or Dare? With my 6-year-old daughter? The imp that has no problem licking her brother's tongue?

me: sure!
g.imp: OK!! Do you want truth or dare?
me: Truth! (No effing way I am going to let you push me into a dare)

fast forward through some innocuous conversation to when we are walking through the library parking lot back to our car...

g.imp: ...you always pick Truth!
me: But I like Truth! (truth has been safe. I've only had to identify my older sib, my younger sib, where I grew up...I like this game!)
g.imp: ok, it's your turn. Truth or Dare? and I'm picking for you! Dare!
me: ok.
g.imp: good! I dare you toooooo..........Got to bed tonight hubad! (Hubad in Tagalog means naked!

(Tagalog is the Philippine national dialect.)


New Rules were instituted in the house today. First and foremost was that there was to be no more Truth or Dare games until the imps were 35-40 years old!

Now, however, it is actually bedtime...

Two things happened today with the imps that totally need told.

Thing 1:
We discovered that our 13-year-old babysitter is absolutely worth her weight in gold and we need to abduct her and start medical experiments to distill her essence for sale on the open market!

It seems that girl.imp wanted to watch t.v. and was rebuked in her attempt then threw a minor fit and was subsequently banished to her room. While none of this is, in and of itself, real news, it is what g.imp did next that really elevates our babysitter to iconic status.

g.imp snuck both of our house phones into her room and dialed wife.imp at work (and was forced to leave the following message):

g.imp: mom? MOM? When you get home tonight you need to fire (babysitter.imp). She was mean to me today and you really, really need to fire her.

Isn't she precious? What I really find impressive is that g.imp thought far enough ahead to take BOTH phones into her bedroom, just in case wife.imp returned the call!

Thing 2:
Boy.imp also indulged in his own minor meltdown. He DOES NOT want daddy to give him a bath. Daddy actually insists on getting clean while in the tub. Not to slight wife.imp, but when daddy is in charge there is less splashing and more soap bubbles flying through the air.

So on the way to the tub b.imp indicated the need to use the potty and 20 minutes later he was still there but in a much better mood. I was getting a little freaked out though. I do understand that young imps will discover and explore their bodies, but I was not enjoying the images of what b.imp would look like in 10-15 years while watching him calmly discuss how he fell down outside and bruised his knee as he was pinching and twisting his nipples.

in the next 7-10 years -- I.AM.IN.SO.MUCH.TROUBLE!!

Remember the Phrase 'A Penny for Your Thoughts'?

Let's face it, people are waaaaay too soft on waiters/waitresses (you might call them servers but I am going old school here). As a former food establishment monkey, I have less pity than most on those who underacheive with my food orders.

I actually sit down with an imaginary stack of bills in my head and start subtracting from the moment the WAITer first approaches. My rules are inviolate. I rarely make exceptions. Yes these poor slobs barely make $2/hour. But a good server at Ponderosa can pull down $75-150/night without breaking a sweat. Besides, I am supposed to act grateful and part with my hard-earned money when service is bad?

I.THINK.NOT!!


SO:

the wife.imp took the imps out to dinner to Max and Erma's arriving shortly after 7 p.m. and are seated next to a birthday party with tons'o'kids. Granted the party probably had one or two full-time servers but if memory serves usually more than two WAIT staff are employed at one time.

So wife.imp's slo' fuse starts when no-one approaches/introduces themselves as their 'server' for the night and the hostess takes the drink order (lemonade for the kids and a coke for the wife.imp). Ten fifteen minutes later a WAITer (yes the break was finally over!) arrived with a soda.

WAITer moron: I'm sorry. I'll be right back with the lemonades. Here's your soda. We don't have coke, will a diet pepsi be ok?
wife.imp: NO! I'll have an iced tea without lemon.
moron: You don't want the soda?
wife.imp: NO! I'll have an iced tea without lemon.

A few minutes later the imps' corn dogs arrived. According to wife.imp the dogs were not only heavily breaded, but they were extra salty as well. The boy.imp was getting somewhat boisterous as no drinks had yet arrived.

The wife.imp was on the verge of absconding with the lemonade from the drinks area when she heard the following:

moron1: where's the lemonade
moronclone: we're out.
moronclone: don't look at me, I made it last time
moronclone: It's not my turn

wife.imp: Hey forget the lemonade! Can I just get waters!

After another few minutes of no attention, the wife.imp dragged a poor WAITer over who unfortunately made eye contact.
"can I just get my check since my food has not arrived?"

Of course whom should appear? A food ladened WAITer !

The wife.imp got no discounts and actually left a 10% tip. Although she left a "scathing" note: "too bad. I typically leave at least 20%"

Back in my day the common response to such louse service was a max of ONE CENT. Thinking on this story as I sit here typing, I honestly do know know where to direct my frustration. The restaurant for such appalling service or the w.imp for actually leaving any $$.

Perhaps I can find someone to give me a Penny for my thoughts...?

Boy Meets Girl, Boy Gets Girl (or enough stalling here is our tale)

May 1992,

I am working as a lowly Bus Boy in an outdoor food court at the much ballyhooed Ameriflop ( better known as Ameriflora). One of the food stands was managed by an Asian Beauty and she was waaaaaay out of my league.

One evening after the park closed, I heard someone singing with the radio and knew I had to meet her. So the very next day I approached the Asian Beauty (AB) and came up with what has to be the worlds’ worst intro (by rights, I should still be single to this day):

Me: You know, every time I see you, you’re doing paperwork.
AB: --actually she said nothing but her expression was yelling ‘No, Shit!’

After that auspicious beginning, I had my opening. Within a few weeks I was reading papers she saved for me and because she was busy (and I was dirt poor) I was enjoying free lunches, her treat. Yep, things were moving right along. I just had to get her past that little mental block called ‘Current Boyfriend’.

By the end of June we had our first date! I decided about then that she was THE ONE! Of course I had the problem of trying to convince AB that almost two months into our ‘relationship’ it was time to tie the knot. But there was still time, after all Ameriflora was a summer festival.

By the time summer was ending, AB was packing to go overseas, to the Netherlands. Thus endeth our relationship (or so I thought). After all, how many couples last with long distance relationships? Dating was difficult enough when we lived in the same city. There had to be an answer. And there was. It was time to propose, before she left Europe and went back home to the Philippines. So I picked up the phone:

Me: …blah blah blah…Hey, if I were to propose do you think you’d say yes?
AB: …Oh sure!!…

OH YES! I am engaged (insert white boy happy dance)! All I need to do now is get the ring, send it to her and plan the wedding!! Oh, and find the time to let AB know we were going to start a family together!

Folks if you thought I was skating by on a wing and a prayer up until now…

After purchasing a ring, I had to find a relatively safe manner in which to have it delivered. I considered several options and settled on the USPS. Yep, the Postal Service was to take my heart and soul overseas and deliver it to AB.

Of course I could not just package the ring in a standard jewelry box. That would be too obvious (although I did list it on the insurance section of the overseas voucher—just in case). So, seeing as how I was one of those individuals that put the red into Redneck thus knowing that duct tape is a handyman’s secret weapon, I wrapped the ring in cardboard and secured it with duct tape and then wrapped the entire mess with an old, ragged T-shirt. To make certain that if I failed to flush the engagement before it happened, I also sent a 15 page missive dealing with the every day mundane, including waiting to mention the ring with a brief sentence somewhere on page 12.

AB upon receipt did the following:
a- ignored the insurance claimer on a ring (Surprise still intact!)
b- pulled the letter out of the envelope and started to read
c- tossed the duct taped cardboard into the nearest trash bin
d- vaguely wondered why I sent a ragged T-Shirt and had it wrapped around a bunch of cardboard.

After picking up the letter, AB left to catch a bus and as she neared the bus stop read something like ‘So what did you think of the ring?’. A brief frantic search found no ring. AB had to ask, ‘Did it fall out of the envelope? ‘What was it in?’ ‘No! He didn’t—He wouldn’t? He put it in the cardboard?’

I have to believe most sane people would have left and said, ‘SEE YOU LATER, FOOL!’ But AB went back and retrieved the ring! Of course she had to dig it out of the communal trash bin (mostly paper)!

Any who, 12 years and two kids later our marriage is still going strong and is just as full of laughs now as (ahem) 'we' had then!

Birth of Boy.Imp(or better known as stalling day 3)

I am relating this story about the birth of our boy.imp, because I am stalling until I can keep a Promise and I have been afraid of forgetting any of the details.

Let's just say that we went about things a little differently from the birth of our girl.imp:

Late Friday night Nov 7th 2003, the wife.imp's contractions started getting a bit stronger and more regular and she decided to try to get as much sleep as she could. We assumed that there would be a trip to the hospital the next day and figured if the pain became so intense that she couldn’t sleep we would start timing contractions. We woke up around 5:30 am – ALL OF US including g.imp (who normally is a late sleeper) - and started timing the contractions about 6sh.

The wife.imp and I had not really gone through advanced labor pains because with g.imp we went to the hospital early and also got the epidural (which made both of us firm believers in drugs over natural labor).

We put off going to the hospital all morning because the contractions were fluctuating from 4-5 minutes to even 10 minutes apart - silly us. We thought the contractions would become more consistently close together. It wasn't until 8am that wife.imp asked me how many we have had in the last hour - turned out there had been 13 contractions, which meant we were averaging contractions less than 5 minutes apart!!

Doctor’s instructions were to call when we are 5-6 minutes apart, with 45-60 second durations. At that point we were hitting 75 second durations on a few of the contractions. When we called the doctor, he said he was going to be at the hospital all day and that we should go. However, I let the wife.imp make this call. After all, she was the one in pain. When she said ‘Go’ the car was ready!

At this point I would like to emphasize that the doctor stated he was going to be at the hospital all day and that we should go. The wife.imp interpreted his instructions to mean that whenever we were ready we can go. Again, we didn't realize how far along we were because she could still manage the pain. This meant we did not have to worry because wife.imp's pain threshold is not particularly high and she is a whiner by nature.

We have since considered trying to blame my sister for our late start because she was supposed to be at our house to watch g.imp. But she had not yet arrived (of course we won't admit that we didn't realize the urgency of the situation and failed to communicate that to her!). Around 9sh a.m. we decided we had to go and dropped g.imp off at the neighbors' house. Of course this is when my sister arrives!!

The contractions got stronger and closer together in the car - our house is about 12 miles from the hospital downtown. Two items of interest here, a) my dad advised us to take towels in the car in case a delivery occurred en-route, b) Ohio State University’s stadium holds over 100k fans and on this day it was a home game.

We were slowed down to just below a crawl several times because we were stuck in game-day traffic (the football stadium is easily 5+ miles north of downtown and that it was at least 4 effing hours BEFORE kickoff!). However we arrived a few minutes after 9:30 a.m. Because the front entrance of the hospital is about a block from the parking garage, I had hoped to use the hospital's valet service (yes, you read it correctly 'I had hoped to use the hospital's valet service) but it wasn't available until 11 a.m. So I dropped wife.imp off at the entrance and went to park the car in the parking garage (remember, we still thought we had plenty of time).

While I was parking the car, wife.imp got the first indication that time was not necessarily waiting for us. The first BIG contraction hit her as she approached the elevators and almost dropped her to her knees. But wife.imp was able to make it to the Labor and Delivery ward where she proceeded admitted herself. While she was struggling with the paperwork, I was sitting in the parking garage trying to decide whether or not to bring the luggage in or go out later to retrieve the bags. Remembering our last delivery when we were in the hospital over 10 hours, I opted to carry the bags in with me (down 3 levels, across the road, around the hospital to the front door, through the lobby, waiting for the elevator up to labor and delivery).

When I arrived wife.imp was nowhere to be seen. However the nurse manning the check-in did hustle me down the hall…

Back to wife.imp:
As she was signing papers the second BIG contraction dropped wife.imp on all fours in front of the nurse’s desk. Things started to get blurry for her here, but she clearly remembers hearing the admissions person say "She was just here in front of me a moment ago.” Then the nurses spotted her on the floor and whisked her into one of the L&D rooms.

Back to me:
When I entered the L&D room, I saw two nurses standing over wife.imp, who was on all fours still fully clothed and groaning in pain. Instead of trying to get her ready for the impending birth, one nurse was asking her for her personal and medical information while another was telling her to change into the hosp gown.

My first thought was to drop the bags and plant one of my sized 10 boots into each of their...I forced myself to resist the urge to tell them what their jobs were and helped wife.imp to her feet. After she changed and and climbed into the bed a nurse checked on our status.”

“She’s rimming!”

Next to ‘There’s a bomb in here!’ I can not imagine any other combination of words that would have caused the amount of activity that erupted with the nurse’s pronouncement.

At this point wife.imp turns to a nurse and asks if she can get an epidural. The nurse patted her hand, smiled and lied. She then proceeded to move all the epidural equipment approx 3-4’ from the bed.

A few minutes later the doctor came and asked wife.imp to push. B.imp came out after 4 sets of 3 pushes, officially at 9:56 am. Remember I was parking the car in the parking garage a little after 9:30 a.m.! The nursing staff had no time to put in an IV or attach the finger monitor!

What really rocked was that wife.imp was lucid through the whole thing and felt decent afterwards. Plus the whole thing was over in time for us to watch Ohio State beat Michigan State!!

Stalling days 1 and 2

Diana over at Stuck In Elmo's World has a wonderful post on how she met her Hubby. I am afraid that I am one of those who promised that if she posted her story, I would post mine. However I do not yet have anything written. But that probably will not fly for Diana because she is already harassing warning me that it is my turn to ante up.

So while we are waiting to hear the tale of how I tricked managed to convince the wife.imp to marry me without having to propose, I am going to post something that prompted my own dad to ask the 2nd most favorite question in my entire life (the 'what are you, a dumbass?' and 'are you an idiot/moron?' and 'are we raising you in a barn?' questions are not applicable).

Dad's question? "Are you planning on going up to the roof and jumping off?"

Please read the following to discover what caused this concern:

In My Dreams

In my room late at night, I ask God to grant the secrets I keep
Secrets that during the day no one hears; not one peep
Everyone thinks me a clown, someone insensitive, one immature
They cannot see the fear inside, the doubts imbedded in my nature

Fears that boil and bubble ‘till with frustration my temper flares
Inept attempts at activities new, I blush and stammer at angry stares
Crimson faced and stumble tongued, Dear Lord! Where can I run?
Far, I want to go deep in the places dark, away from the accusing sun

But bills must be paid, so every day I go to face my shame
My nerves shot, I hold back tears for a child I cannot name
A child full of joy, with a flashing smile and sparkling eyes
Angry inside, I watch helpless every day as part of that child dies

In my bed, surrounded by walls that do not accuse
I can wish to be in another’s shoes
Only at night, I know I can pray to the One whose pity runs deep
When I close my eyes the scars fade, for my wishes are granted when I sleep

Sometimes I am so good, I amaze even myself!

There are some things that I try not to learn from my dad. I have failed. My wife and brothers all say that I resemble him more and more every year. Which means that in twenty years I will be able to jump on everyone's last nerve by just entering a room...

However I am finding that 'Dad's Punishment Techniques' span the generations:

Example: One of my sibs broke into the parental units' bedroom and opened the Christmas gifts 3 weeks before Christmas.

No presents that year for anyone.

Someone got into dad's tools and lost one of his favorite wrenches. Goodbye family pool pass.

So today I decided to implement the 'Everyone Gets In Trouble' philosophy.

girl.imp was yelling at boy.imp for sitting on the blanket the wrong way, or something. However, since I cannot have g.imp assume that she can usurp my authority, I decided to reassert myself as the dominant figure of this household (until the wife.imp comes home...)

I called both imps upstairs and let them hold the wall up with their noses. After they both screamed and cried and vented, I let them go back to their play.

For the past hour they have played quietly AND b.imp has learned how to sit on the blanket in such a manner as to not annoy his older sister.

Remember the first time your parents allowed you to have an ice cream float and how you could not wait to 'dig in'?

girl.imp: What's this?
wife.imp: It's a root beer float
g.imp: I'm not allowed to have this. THIS.IS.ROOT.BEER. It has 30% alcohol!
w.imp: Not it doesn't. It's a soda, just like coke.
g.imp: Oh (was she too disappointed here?)
g.imp: What is that white stuff.
w.imp: That's foam
g.imp: No, that other white stuff
w.imp: That is ice cream
g.imp: Oh. I don't like it. (pushing the glass away...)
w.imp: You have not even tried it!
g.imp: ...Yet I still don't like it.

However, the boy.imp was sucking foam off of the bottom of his glass by the time this conversation ended.

Following up on things Imps should never say

and I thought yesterday's comments were shocking. I rolled into the 'ole homestead after hours (after the imps should have been asleep for a couple of hours) to find both imps awake, alert and enthusiastic.

Usually a combination that ensures everyone is up late. However I managed to herd the girl.imp and boy.imp to bed. My bed. But actually in a bed.

me: ok hugs and kisses all around
b.imp: (puckers up and waits for his hug)
g.imp: we already did that! And we licked tongues!

I don't really want to know. I really really do not want to know.

On a different topic:

• Play Dates - We tried to set up a play date with g.imp's friend from her acting class. However the friend's mom was not about to organize with me. I apparently have this uncanny ability to make her uncomfortable.

I cannot claim that this was unexpected. I have read enough comments online to realize that this is my 'glass ceiling'. After all, it is still quite unexpected for the dad to be involved at home. However, while I can still try and see the humor, g.imp is still asking why can't she call her friend and schedule a play date.

I find it hard to not to tell her that it is because daddy has a penis. We just told her that friend's mommy would rather talk with g.imp's mommy and we have to wait until wife.imp is home on a weekend.

Until then, I get to spend all my free time with the imps. And I am not complaining!

I want to suck you.

Name the #1 thing that I never wanted to hear from girl.imp in any context!!

Turns out that while I was futily staving off a stroke, that g.imp's words were actually innocent.

She had denuded a Q-tip and wanted to place the stick against my chin and make little red circles all over my face.

I probably should have been worried about why she thought this was funny. But I was a bit pre-occupied with trying to breath and verify if I was also not suffering a heart attack!

When you must absolutely, positively, without a shadow of doubt or your head will explode get some 'peace and quiet' from the imps!!

We use a new sedative with the hypno-tube.

Yes, I do use the electronic babysitter on occasion and have learned to respect the power of 'That's So Raven' and ignore the annoying antics of the twins from 'The Suite Life of Zack and Cody'.

But the wife.imp imported the big gun this last week.

Voltes V!!

(She found it on eBay where else?)

Apparently there is nothing like a violent, teen-angst driven, techno-driven, martial arts cartoon to steal about 10-12 hours of glassy-eye, drool-dripping peace from the imps!

I am a FAN of this show!!

Slow Daze

We have been frantically thrusting patiently trying to ascertain girl.imp's sporting interests. To this end we have signed g.imp up for every seasonal sporting activity ever imagined talked g.imp into trying soccer, swimming and...well, there is nothing after that last 'and...'.

To date we have met with limited failures.
Soccer: By the end of the 'season' (this was an eight week course for 4-6 year olds) g.imp had all but three participants sitting in a circle in the middle of the field, picking flowers, and singing 'Happy Birthday' and 'Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer'.

Swimming: g.imp actually loves the pool but not the actual swimming part...

and...: We have failed to find any other athletic activity that interests her--UNTIL TODAY!! Yes, daddy struck gold this a.m. Today, with the help of a cloth Frisbee, I got g.imp outside for over 11/2 hours. We played catch until lunchtime and I actually had to resort to bribing g.imp with a peanut butter sandwich to get her to agree to stop and go inside!

In other news both girl.imp and boy.imp have found a new favorite song. Every time it comes on the radio (which is almost daily--Thank you Major League Baseball), they hush us up and break out into song. Every time they start singing and swaying and doing the hard-rock 'head bob' to the music I can see them in a stadium holding up flaming lighters...

The song?

This is Budweiser. This is Budweiser. ...blah blah blah... This is Beer!

With just one expression...

the boy.imp made me spew my coffee this morning. Yes, he turned his eyelids inside-out!

So what have your imps done that made you do participate in the classic, comedic 'spit-take'?

Is there such a thing as Blogger Block?

I have been sitting here for hours all of 30 seconds and -- nothing. No ideas.

Ok, I have informed the wife.imp that I am going to let my hair grow (at least until after my sister's wedding in October). I have really red hair and I found (gasp) a few gray strands. I am now on the slow slide to ... whatever it is. All I know is that when red goes gray it looks bad.

However, it will not be a mullet. The front is growing (well I hope the front is growing) as long as the back. This means that I no longer get out of the shower run the towel over my hair twice and scrape my fingers through my hair once. I actually have to run my fingers through my hair 4, maybe 5, times.

Wife.imp and girl.imp have both declared that I need to cut my hair as I have a shaggy look. Yes that was shaggy look, not shaggy locks. My biggest fear is not how I might look in 2 more months, but whether or not the w.imp shaves my scalp while I am sleeping sometime during the next two weeks!

One never knows, if this hair thing goes well, I'll have to get that tattoo and ear piercing! Nothing like getting in on a fad years after it has disappeared!! (honey, you know that I am just kidding about the Tats and piercings...Right?)

I realize this was a lame posting...but it was talking about my hair or posting the poem that prompted my dad to ask me if I was going to jump off of the roof...

B.IMP has a meltdown

After returning from my aunt & uncle's 40th wedding anniversary (g.imp congratulated my aunt on her 40th birthday), we started to settle in for the night.

The imps were bathed and allowed to play for a few minutes until bedtime. Smooth sailing. I was talking with my Elder Sib (ES) and who was on the verge of going to bed when IT happened.

B.imp LOST. IT.

Completely and utterly. Last night's tantrum achieved levels g.imp would be jealous of and also cost b.imp some valuable toys.

B.imp's problem centered on the fact that he did not want to put away his toys, his beloved cars and trucks. After recognizing that b.imp fundamentally could not put away the toys (this was his stance v. 'THE MAN'), we tried to help. Even handed him the toys and set the toy box beside him. All he had to do was move his hand 6" and drop toy.

NOT A CHANCE WHITE BOY

Left with no recourse, as this is not the time to open Pandora's 'Box o'Negotiation' with a two-year-old, we unleashed upon b.imp the dreaded 'Trash Bag o'Donation', Into which toys disappear never to be seen again (except at the local donation center).

More than 1/2 of his beloved cars/trucks shall soon be arriving at new homes in the forthcoming weeks.

All of this was witnessed by ES and as ES has no children at home (In fact, when he married the imps he adopted were on their way into junior high school) and ES has never experienced the joys of raising toddlers! His expression could best be described as:

Uno Chicago Grill, Pizzaria Uno's, East of Chicago, TGI Fridays, Don Parmesan's

Are all restaurants where we shall never suffer through another meal.

Restaurant Hama has now made my list.

First of all, thank you for feeding my imps. If nothing else, we had a nice quiet conversation while the imps ate.

That being said, how is it possible that preparing RAW FISH takes any time at all. How hard is it to take a ball of rice, flatten it on a metal tray, spread the green goop on and slap on a slice of raw fish? Repeat as necessary...

Soup should take longer to ladle into bowl! Putting pre-made salad dressing on a pre-made salad should take longer! Taking chopsticks out of the wrapper and setting the proper grip should take longer!

So how is it possible the wife imp and the imps all got deep fried chicken, salads, soups and my brother and I only got kimchi, oh, and water.

45 minutes and not one whiff of uncooked underwater delicacies!

This is a restaurant the wife.imp and I have been bragging on for over two years. We never fail to take guests to this 'best' of all sushi places in our town.

My night now sucks.

Today's Random Thoughts...

Is it 'normal' for a 21/2 year old to sport a 'stiffy', a 'woody', yes! a full-blown erection. I realize it could be a normal, biological function; full bladder, small body and all but nothing, and I mean absolutely nothing, in my past has prepared me to seeing my own boy sporting a 'nail-driver'. I actually had hoped avoid even hearing of a rumor of its existence.
(note: wife imp thinks I am over-reacting slightly blowing things waaaaay out of proportion and would probably let out a disgusted sigh, say something like 'get over it dad', and proceed to tell all her co-workers about my reaction if she reads this post.)



Why is it that the Reds seem to so rarely rise to the occassion recently. I do not even have to watch a game this year. Just tell me two things:

-How many runs did the Reds pitchers give up in inning one?
(they can pitch a no-hitter from inning two on but giving up runs in inning one usually means a loss)
-How many times did the opposing team have someone batting with two outs and two strikes?
(in this situation it is almost a GIVEN that they will score, usually more than twice)

Why is this relevant? Tonight vs. the mostly hapless Dodgers, the Reds pitcher gave up TWO runs in inning one. After 7 innings (with only two more to go) the Reds are down 2 to 0 and the Dodgers pitcher(s) have so far no-hit the Reds.
-Not ONE hit!
FRUSTRATING!!



My older sib is coming for a visit. Which means the following events have been planned:
- we are walking through the woods Sat looking for bowhunting locations for deer season.

The older sib is an avid hunter. Ok, 'hunter' might not be the right word. Outdoorsman would be better. He has bow-hunted for over 10 years and has no kills. No hits even.
This year I am going with him. He has a secret 'weapon.' He is going to pile corn in the, dare I even say it, the 'killing zone'.
So this year along with not bringing home any meat, he is also giving away the veggies!

- we are going to a surprise party (until it occurs no more shall be said)
- we are going jogging.

Elder sib is an avid jogger. We will be up and out around 5 a.m. (I might possibly be drunk by 6:30 a.m. TOO DAMN EARLY folks!)

- I have to work tomorrow. So elder sib gets to fly 600 miles then ride for almost 300 more.

I would have to classify this weekend as more busy than fun...

When being kissed by the imps, should I be worried that they want to grab fistfuls of my hair and ...
Let's just say that I am very uncomfortable around the kids recently...

Filler Post

Nothing much happened today. The Reds lost to a bad Dodger team, blah blah blah. Oh and it was hot.

SO, I have decided to post one of my poems. Just to forewarn folks, I don't do happy and cheerful. I like to walk on the dark side. However, I do not live there. The topics of the poems are not necessarily first hand experiences. That said might I present:

The Daily Grind

"Dear God, would it be such a crime-if I asked you to please stop time?”

While I can still see with the bloom of youth in my eyes
All I ask is time to enjoy one sunrise
I’ve striven to fulfill my filial duty, a hopeless task when trying to live on my meager salary.
Overtime, stress and ulcers are given the most consideration.
To hell with the fact I've never had a honeymoon or vacation!

“Dear God, would it be such a crime if I asked you to please stop time?”

I've a family that I only see when they sleep
But 'tis their waking hours I would cherish and keep
Unable to follow Franklin's advice, I am neither healthy or wealthy nor wise
Will I die before tasting life's pleasures
Can one truly owe so much to Caesar?

“Dear God, would it be such a crime if I asked you to please stop time?”

At last! I've attained the dream.­ Cars we now own! New mortgage on the house!
Yet bills must still need paid and I cannot spend time with friends, family--my spouse!
Is it wrong, cursing the need of money? Is this truly the ‘Land of Milk and Honey?’
Forty hours, five days a week is the standard lie
Now all I ask is to earn enough to bury me when I die!

“Dear God, would it be such a crime if I asked you to please stop time?"

Do you know the difference between being manly and being soft?

I had planned on posting one of my poems, however I discovered a greater need today.

We might need a new pet. Actually we just need a pet, any pet.

We had a cat once...g.imp remembers her. She actually sometimes still cries and tells me she misses the cat. It, the cat, was really not an indoor cat but since we live in a city it could not be an outdoor cat.

So now g.imp and b.imp have taken to adopting ants, however since the 'Great Ant Extermination of '06' they know better than to bring them inside the house.

Worse yet I had to put b.imp to sleep tonight. In order to stop his crying I read him books, played with some toy trucks and pretended my left hand was a kitty cat.

Yes, for over 11/2 hours I had to put my hand on his chest and meow. I had two use two of my fingers to pretend the 'kitty' was tapping his face. During this minor interlude, b.imp would pet my hand/arm and murmur that 'kitty' was so soft.

Yes you read right. My hand/arm as 'kitty' is soft.

Do you know the difference between being manly and being soft?

It is called being a Daddy!

Today...

I was comfortably resting alone in bed (the wife imp was on her way to work) when g.imp came running into the room and tried to apply a 'Flying Half Nelson' while screaming, "I AM NAKED WOMAN!"

Ladies two things a guy does not need in the morning: 1) Over fifty pounds of anything landing on his unprotected (ahem) 'mid-section', 2) It also does not help hearing that mass of weight proclaim to the world at large that she enjoys running around nekkid! (are we raising another Pam Anderson here?)
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

On a brighter note, b.imp is using the potty sans hysterics! Of course he is being bribed with semi-sweet choc. morsels.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I missed the a.m. window to take the imps out to play. I am not awfully anxious to take them out in the near 100 degree afternoon. And since g.imp has had her t.v. privileges revoke--again!--we are now spending the day dusting, sweeping and generally trying to rearrange the clutter.

What did g.imp do to so soon after regaining her t.v. time?

Well, the imps were being babysat yesterday and g.imp let loose with the following compliment toward our sitter: "blah blah blah, you are a big butt!"

Since we are trying to teach the imps to show the proper respect, our sitter sent g.imp to her room. And it would have ended there, except that when the wife imp came home g.imp refused to work through a 'play-by-play' accounting of what got her into trouble. After much prying and some pleading, the wife imp started revoking t.v. privileges. When she took away day four's t.v. time, g.imp managed to 'remember' what was said.

So the end result is that I am not allowed to put anything on the 'hypno-tube' this week. I really think it is time to find a place in the yard for a veggie garden so the imps can spend time 'workin' the dirt' as punishment so daddy can turn on the electronic babysitter if he wants some 'free' time.