Friday, March 30, 2007

Multitasking Miscues

Mrs. Joe got to escape had plans this evening so I has Peanut & The Champ all to myself. Dinner (homemade mac-n-cheese) was the usual complaining/compromising followed by a bath for The Champ.

Yes, a bath. It seems he was reminded yesterday how much fun the bathtub is while watching me give Peanut one. Apparently, my 5 year old's need to take showers, instead of a bath, was overtaken by his inner child. So tonight, a bath is what he got.

I filled the tub and in he went. Happy as a clam. I then thought I could leave him alone and tackle some other tasks. I got Peanut into her pajamas, put away some clothes and settled in to check some e-mail. That's where the trouble started. Peanut wandered into in the bathroom with The Champ. I think it took about 5 minutes before the noise from the bathroom got my attention. The results are posted below:
  • The walls of the bathroom were covered with water from The Champ squirting Peanut with rubber duckies.

  • The floor was covered with water from previously mentioned duckies as well as Peanut dumping a cup full of water on her head while "rinsing out the shampoo".

  • Peanut's pajamas were saturated to the point of needing to be changed due to previously mentioned head rinse & duckies.

  • Four previously clean towels on the floor, soaked from The Champ's attempt to clean up the water.

I got The Champ out of the tub, changed Peanut into some dry pajamas and cleaned up the mess, all the time cursing myself for not thinking this could happen.

Do you think Mrs. Joe should hear this one?

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Tuesday, March 27, 2007

In The Spirit of A Harlequin Romance Novel

The two lovers were lying in bed one night after a long day of toiling in the fields of life. They talked about the next time they could be together, wishing their jobs, PTO meetings & swim classes would not interfere. All was quiet, for the children were finally asleep and the only light in the room was coming from a small lamp from Target on the bedside table.

He was lying on his side, propped up by a arm made strong from the computer mouse he so bravely wielded. She was lying on her back enjoying the warmth from the heating pad. The lamp glowed behind her, creating a beautiful silhouette of her face.

Then something caught his eye, a glimpse of his lover's innermost beauty rarely seen. He told her not to move, wishing the moment would last forever. He slowly reached over and ever so softly caressed her cheek and traced her beautiful lips with his finger and then...


Who said romance is dead?


Saturday, March 24, 2007


While at work yesterday, I received one of those phone calls from home that starts with;

“Your son would like to tell you something.”

“Oh, great” I thought. “What did he do now. “

The Champ gets on the phone and announces without hesitation;

“I took Peanut out of her crib.”

It seems that my beautiful children were not cooperating with Mrs. Joe at nap time. Peanut was not in the mood to lie down and was letting everybody know about it. The Champ, who was supposed to be lying down in his bed, apparently decided to rescue her from her crib.

Remember now, The Champ is only 5 years old. When brushing his teeth, he still needs a step stool, which is exactly what he had to use to help remove his sister from her crib.

"Then I got my blanket and tried to get her to lay down on the floor with me."

I felt a little better. He was just trying to help get his sister to take a nap. That's what a big brother is supposed to do. Pitch in. Help mommy. Teach his sister. But then...

"But she didn't want to lay down with me, so I put her back in her crib. I kinda put her in head first. She's okay though. Mommy came up to help me."

That's The Champ. Always helping out.

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Monday, March 19, 2007

The Poo Is On The Other Foot

I embraced one of a father's ongoing duties yesterday. I got on the floor and wrestled with my kids. I don't mind getting on the floor with them. This was fine, partly because it allowed me to continue watching the NCAA basketball tournament. Quality abuse, I mean time with the kids, I say.

A growing problem though is, well, it's The Champ, he's growing. And he's starting to throw his weight around. And who taught him to lead with his shoulder, anyway? Another problem is Peanut. She's going to be 2 years old in May and she is becoming fearless. I'm going to have to teach her that her head will eventually start to hurt if she continues to slam it into my kneecaps. Between the two of them, along with lying on the hardwood floor, I get a little roughed up. But it's all in clean fun.

During this, Peanut had the line of the night. As I was on my hands and knees with The Champ driving my head into the coffee table, she grabbed the back of my sweats, pulled them away from my ass and yelled:

"Daddy, Poop?"

No, Peanut, I may feel 80 years old after wrestling with the two of you but hopefully you will not have to worry about having to change your father's diapers until at least your 40th birthday.


Saturday, March 17, 2007

The Blue Devils Made Me Do It

Arguably, this used to be the best time of the year for me. Well, when I had all the free time in the world and absolutely no responsibilities. I would spend hours in front of the t.v. watching the Tar Heels, Jayhawks or Wildcats. Listening to Dick Vitale and his "unbelievable" commentary and everything else that make college basketball great. Now? I don't think so.

It's NCAA basketball tournament time. A time when you can sit around watching hours and hours of college hoops. And if you are like me (and thousands of others), you fill out your brackets for the office pool for a chance of a hundred bucks or so. I even ran the bracket pool at my work. I was the guy sitting in front of the t.v. with 20 or so sheets, hi-lighting winners and redlining losers for 3 straight weekends.

Over the last few years though , life dealt me a hand that forced me to make a decision.

A: 10-12 hours of basketball a day for three straight weekends.

B: Peanut, The Champ & Mrs. Joe (otherwise known as "a life").

This year was different. I didn't watch any games. Not one. I had no free time and when I had some free time, watching a game was one of the last things on my list. I didn't even plan on filling out any brackets. How could I win? I didn't follow it all year.

But then the selection show came. And Monday I got a phone call from the secretary of the president at my job.

"Mark is wondering why you haven't sent out the brackets yet"

I couldn't do it. I don't have the time anymore to run the pool. I told her I was very busy (work related, of course) and asked if someone else could run it this year. Luckily, they found someone else. But the seed (probably a 16) was planted. I quickly printed out the RPI, conference strength of schedules, even found a website showing more information that I could digest in 100 hours. So I made my predictions and paid my $10.

It's now Saturday afternoon. How am I doing? Two words.

Duke Sucks!

Along with most of my picks.

Apparently not watching any games and relying on a bunch of data doesn't a winner make.

I'll consider my $10 a donation. Hopefully the president wins. But this year he will not have me to thank for running it. And it's for the best.


Sunday, March 11, 2007

AAJ's Dashboard Confessional

Thanks to Em for his check engine light story. I started this post prior to reading his. Apparently our cars may have been in contact with one another recently.

Have you heard the rule when buying a new car;

Do not buy the first year of a new model.

Mrs Joe & I can attest to this rule. After we were married a few years, The Champ was on the way and we felt we needed a new car. Mrs Joe did not want a mini-van (thank God) so we looked into a small SUV. We made the mistake of buying a 2001 Ford Escape. Which is the first year they were made. Being named "Escape" is appropriate, seeing the damned thing cannot escape from the service bay of our mechanic.

The latest episode occurred last week. Mrs. Joe was saying the "check engine" light had been coming on so she made another appointment with our mechanic. Luckily for us, we trust our local mechanic and he's fairly cheap. Maybe it's because Mrs. Joe brings him cookies at Christmas.

So Mrs. Joe dropped the car off Friday. I got home from work and went to pick it up. After our friendly exchanges, I asked him how much was the bill. He told me hooked it up to the computer and it did not report any problems so don't worry about it. He also apologized because he knew I had to take this information back to Mrs. Joe.

"If it comes on again, bring it back and I'll take another look."

Thanks, I think, because now I had to tell Mrs. Joe that nothing was wrong with the truck. Or at least nothing the mechanic could see. So I got home and she gave me that "Do we need to take out a second mortgage to pay for this piece of shit truck" look. I responded;

"The good news is it didn't cost us anything."

"The bad news is he didn't find any reports of a "check engine" light going on."

"What do you mean no reports of a "check engine" light going on? I seen it!"

"Keep an eye out for it again and let me know."

So I thought I was all set. Wait until the light comes on again and deal with it then. Well, Mrs. Joe and I left a few days later in the truck and low and behold the light came on. I asked her:

"Is this the light you're talking about?"

"Yes. That's it. Do you believe me now? I told you it was coming on."

"Hon. That's the low coolant light, not the check engine light."

Somehow I get the feeling this is my fault.


Friday, March 09, 2007

Naming Rights Available

For The Champ, it was easy.

Leave your boys alone!

Simple. Easy. Understood. But I have a dilemma now and I need help. I don't know what word to use when referring to my daughter's...vagina. There, I said it.

Peanut has discovered hers and can't keep her hands off of it. Specifically when I'm changing her diaper. Needless to say that is the worst time she could be poking around there but I am finding it difficult to tell her no because I don't know what to call it.

Leave your vagina alone!

See, it doesn't sound right. It's not really a vagina yet anyway, is it? Well, not to me because I'm her dad, I guess. When I hear the term "vagina", I start thinking properly, as in medical and reproduction. That thought leads to the future, which means her, um, vagina becomes a two-way street. Not one-way. And right now, up until she's 30 and married, there will be the hugest "do not enter" sign posted.

So I'm asking you all to tell me your cute names for your daughter's...privates (that sounds dumb, too). This way, while I'm changing another diaper, I can tell her to leave it alone without the need of an anatomy class.


Thursday, March 08, 2007

Sleepless in Pre-K

I was in Chicago for a few days for work. I'm trying to catch up with everything but I had this wonderful exchange this morning with The Champ. His pre-school class takes a nap daily. I asked him if he took a nap yesterday at school.

“Yeah, but I couldn’t lie down in the spot I like. Katie was lying there.”

I replied, “Well, sometimes you have let the woman have what she wants.”

“But she’s not a woman, she’s just a girl.”

Looks like I got some explaining to do.


Friday, March 02, 2007

She Likes It! Hey Mikey!

In my wildest dreams, I did not think my ramblings would come to this. Redneck Mommy has honored me with a Thinking Bloggers Award. Apparently, she noted me as one of five blogs that make her think. Think about what, T? What kind of ass Mrs. Joe married? I guess I'll accept it. But after reading some of the others she mentioned, it's hard to be included in the same group.

Even if she did just close her eyes, spin her chair around and point blindly at the screen.

I'm not too sure what to do next. I know I need nominate 5 other blogs. That will come in a later post. Shit, I don't think I even really know how to add that little shiny blog button to my blog! I'll do some reading and try my best to handle it properly.

I'll admit, I started blogging because I felt guilty lurking around other people's blogs. My intent now is to try to humor you with my daily life. As I read others, I know that almost everything I will write has already happened to someone else. But for me it is therapeutic to know that I am not alone in my daily challenges. I do not expect my blog to evolve into some of the flashier blogs out there. Nor do I think it will get the hits others get. But I figure, what the hell, my wife and kids are the best thing in the world to me, right. So why not share my experiences with the rest of you?

So I will try to live up to this award, as undeserving as I think it may be, and continue to share with you events like presents I bought for my wife, my son's fascination with Wheel Of Fortune, and where my daughter will stick her finger next.

Because all this has happened to you, too.


Thursday, March 01, 2007

But None Of Us Ate At The Olive Garden

It's a safe bet that it was not something The Champ ate that made him sick this past Saturday night. I know this because he shared whatever he got with the rest of us. Yours truly spent some quality face time with the toilet Tuesday night while Mrs. Joe figured it would be easier just to sit on it for the entire day yesterday. And, of course The Peanut, she ran, and I do mean ran, through enough diapers today to possibly have Huggies make a home delivery. An article in the Boston Herald today mentions what gift we probably received.

Reading that was like reading the foreclosure notice after the bank changed the locks.

On a humorous note, I will quote The Champ on Vanna's wardrobe for this evening's Wheel Of Fortune,

"Dad, Vanna is showing a lot of leg tonight."

I think he's healed. Hopefully the rest of us will be soon.

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