Day 769 - Dancing Fool

After a long day at work, I usually rush home so I can see the kids before they go to bed. Yesterday, when I returned home I saw the sight of Lisa, Emma, and Andrew sitting on the couch watching Dancing With the Stars. I don't understand the huge appeal of this show because there's so little at stake. Is it really necessary to support a washed up b-list star to win a trophy that has no value at all? The true prize of the show is that a Willie Ames-like celebrity can earn a paycheck for a maximum of thirteen weeks.

Anyway, when I got home the kids were too entranced by the fancy footwork of Aaron Carter to give me a second of their time. Quite literally, when I said hello to the kids all that they did was turn their heads in unison towards me, then turned their heads back to Carrie Ann Inaba embarrassing Japanese people across America for another week.

I was annoyed that the kids ignored me, so I went up to the couch and demanded their attention.

"Daddy's home! Don't you want to say hi to me?" I pleaded.

The kids again turned towards me and with a touch of mockery mumbled, "...hi..."

Well that did it. I was determined to make the kids respect me. And what better way to earn respect than to dance for it.

I started to wave my legs and arms wildly in front of the kids. I did some fancy footwork and even jumped up and down a few times. The kids began to look at me! It was working! My dancing made my kids' hearts open up for their desperate whore of a Daddy. They love me! They really love me!

And then Emma ruined the party. She glared at me, waved one arm in the air, and shouted, "Stop! Stop Dada! Stop Dada!" And then turned her attention towards Bruno Tonioli dry humping Len Goodman's arm.

Maybe it was a mistake. I did a box step.

"Stop Dada! Stop Dada! Stop!" commanded Emma.

Nope. Not a mistake.

I felt slightly embarrassed and defeated that my two year old daughter was telling her goofy father to stop dancing. I felt even more embarrassed and defeated that Lisa was rolling on the sofa laughing at me. And where was Andrew in all of this? I suppose he was the only mature one in all of this sitting on the sofa...picking his nose...and sitting in his poop.

Day 768 - Poll Results & New Poll

Two week ago (I was sooooooo tired), I asked what other children shows would be appropriate for the kids to watch. Thirty-three percent of you thought Little Einsteins and Yo Gabba Gabba would be good choices. The rest of the votes were varied enough that even the Showtime lesbian-centric show The L Word made the list. Personally, I'm a Red Shoe Diaries sort of person, but lesbians are a-ok in my book, too.

I haven't had the kids watch Little Einsteins yet, although we have watched Yo Gabba Gabba enough times that it has given me nightmares and cold sweats. What has actually helped us with the variety of shows the kids watch is that I can now stream Netflix to my PS3. You can stream a large number of children shows including Blue's Clues (aka Couscous), Dora the Explorer, Barney, Thomas the Train, and The Wiggles. You can also watch the first five seasons of The L Word and wide selection of Ellen DeGeneres television shows.

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Lisa and I try to be very positive and encouraging around the kids. If the kids accomplish something like putting their shoes on by themselves, cleaning up their room, or coloring a smaller area of the television screen, we like to tell them they did a good job. But I have read some studies that show being too generous with plaudits can actually hamper a child's development. Possibly, too much praise could cause children to become unmotivated and cause performance anxiety (...at least I have an explanation for Lisa now regarding my own performance anxiety...).

What do you think? Should Lisa and I try to be more discriminating with our praise of Emma and Andrew? Or are the kids still at a young enough age where they really need a lot of encouragement and motivation? Or should we just say the hell with it because it'll all go out the window once they become teenagers?

Day 767 - Terrible News to Share

Something horrible happened today. I don't know if I can talk about it. Just thinking about it makes me emotional. But it's one of those moments that makes you realize how fragile and mortal life is. And hopefully from this pain, you can gain insight and strength. So here it goes. Andrew...colored...the television set.

Mind you, it wasn't just a line or a scribble. He quite literally colored the television set. If our 42" television was 32", then he would've colored the entire screen. How did this happen? Well, it sure as hell wasn't on my watch.

You see, Lisa was cooking dinner. As Lisa often does when she is in the kitchen, she rolled out a piece of butcher paper so the kids can color. Obviously, Lisa was not paying attention to the kids because she was so focused on the complicated Hamburger Helper instructions. It was during this time that Andrew grabbed his crayons, wandered off to the television, and raped it of it's innocence.

What got me was that Lisa did not even notice what was happening. Let me repeat: this was not a scribble on the television screen. This was full blown, balls out coloring. For a two year old, this work of electronic violence must've taken him several minutes to do. And get this! He even took the time to use different colored crayons on the screen: green, blue, and red. It was as if those Yip-Yip muppets from Sesame Street jizzed on my tv.

Fortunately for me, my boss at work had some heavy duty screen wipes and spray that he let me use to clean up this mess. It took me about fifteen minutes to get the television completely clean. The last time it took me that long to get something clean was at Boy Scout camp when I crapped my sleeping bag.

So as a warning to all mothers and wives out there, please do not let your children color prized electronic possessions. Let them color something else. The wall. The sofa. How about Grandma? And now it is time I teach Lisa a lesson by taking out her Coach purses and uncapping a dozen Sharpie pens. Ooooh kids!

Day 766 - Fall Back, That's Wack

A few years ago, I remember looking forward to the start of November because it was time to set your clocks back one hour. An extra hour of sleep? Thank you very much! But now that we have twins that extra hour of sleep is as non-existent as a quiet house, a stain-free sofa, and reading a book on the crapper for fifteen minutes.

Although the kids woke up an hour earlier this past Sunday, we still kept them to their usual schedule. We put them down for a nap at 1:30pm and put them to bed around 8:15pm. I was fearing what time they would wake up on Monday morning, but I was pleasantly surprised that they woke up at a not too unusual 7am. I patted myself on the back for making sure the kids kept to their Sunday schedule. Great Scott!

I wasn't out of the woods though. I forgot about one thing: the internal alarm clock. For the next few days, the kids had their internal alarm clock set at the old time of 7am. So they were waking up at 6am -- a time that is way too early for me and my still young looking eyes.

Not only were the kids off schedule, but they were throwing my morning schedule out the window too. I usually try to wake up 30-45 minutes before the kids so I can go through my morning routine: eat breakfast, wash up, and have a peaceful number two. With the kids awake, I couldn't eat breakfast without them trying to climb on my lap. I couldn't wash up because I couldn't leave the kids alone. And we all know how I feel about pooping with the kids around.

What surprised me about my reaction to this is that although I've been lacking sleep for the past two years, I held a little resentment towards the kids for not allowing me to partake in this nationwide event (except Hawaii, Indiana, and Arizona...weirdos.). But this reaction once again reminded me that parenting is a life-long experience. All along the way as your children are developing, you are developing as well. You just need to recognize these moments and sort it out. After all, we are the mature adults. Awww dawwwg! Lisa just farted! I have GOT to Tweet everyone NOW! Snap!!!

Day 765 - Picture Friday

Sadly, this fight over the last Skittle ended with blood, guts, and severed limbs.

Sure, this is a cute picture until you learn that Emma ate her way into this costume. We'll miss you, Andrew.

Andrew watched television so long on the sofa that his torso evolved into a pillow.

"3G my ass..."

Have a great weekend!

Day 764 - Slip 'N Slide

For the longest time, Crazy Grandma nagged us to buy the kids a little slide. I'm not really sure why she was so insistent on it, but Crazy Grandma certainly has a way with the nagging so we finally relented and bought one. Personally, I think Crazy Grandma wanted it for herself because at the same time she was nagging us to buy the kids flannel pajamas at Ann Taylor.

Well, the slide is a hit with the kids. They love using it in a variety of ways: they push their toy cars down it, they crawl under the slide and use it as a hiding place, and they pull Lazy Grandpa around the house because...well...he's lazy.

The one thing that has been driving Crazy Grandma...well...crazy is that Andrew has been using the slide recklessly. This Andrew kid loves to play until he sweats. He will run up and down the slide, slide head first, slide on his tummy, stand on the top, and dismount after a few leg swings and scissor kicks.

Here's a short video of Andrew figuring out a new way to go down the slide:

Day 762 - My Dinner With Emma and Andrew

Although it is rare for my entire family to eat dinner together because of my work hours, it does happen occasionally. We're not at the point where there is actual conversation, but we try to engage the kids in some sort of talk about the food they are eating. For instance, we might talk about the colors of the food they are eating or caution the kids of arterial build up due to too much red meat.

While eating dinner, I had to fart. I'm generally a pretty polite and courteous person, but I consider home a place where I can relax...and that includes relaxing my sphincter. So I let one go. Pretty loud, but not stinky at all. It was so loud that Lisa, Emma, and Andrew all looked up at me at the same time.

And then Emma said, "Daddy poop!"

I had to correct her. "Daddy did not poop. He just let out a toot-toot."

Andrew screamed, "Dada poop!"

I had to correct him. "Daddy did NOT poop."

"Why daddy poooooop?" asked Emma.

"Poop! Poop!" yelled Andrew. "Dada poop!"

"Dada poop," said Emma. "Stinky!"

The kids started to laugh and pretended to wave their hands in front of their face as if my fart suddenly invaded their personal space. I'm not too sure how long this poop conversation continued on, but it lasted long enough where it was at first funny, then it wasn't funny, but then it went on so ridiculously long it became funny again.

I tried to reroute the conversation by adding, "I think Mommy pooped!" But the kids weren't fooled by this false accusation.

"Noooooo," reprimanded Emma. "Mama no poop. Daddy poop!"

Andrew found Emma's use of the word "poop" pretty hysterical because he would just giggle and laugh like an infantile Salacious Crumb.

I suppose I should rethink my etiquette around the kids since they are at the stage where they are beginning to mimic us. But it's not only behavior, but the things that we say around the house. So please excuse me now while I explain to Emma why she should not use the phrase "big fat whore."