Thursday, July 29, 2010

Corn House

Happy Fatherhood Friday everyone! Once you’ve had the chance to check out “Busy-Dad-E’s house”, be sure to check out all of the great bloggers over at

What, you might ask, is a Corn House?

Some variation of a Corn Maze involving a giant stack of corn muffins?


A child’s craft project that involves lots of popsicle sticks, glue, dried corn, and cleaning supplies?


Actually, according to Little Brother (who coined the term), it’s a place to go get a sticker that looks like a sheriff’s badge.


Let me explain.

A few weeks ago, Mom-E got a nice little summons for jury duty. (Yay, especially since my “number” was called for jury duty in May.)

The letter included a date in which excuses would be heard.

Mom-E brainstormed a few possible excuses:

“Umm…l’d like to participate in my civic duty, only I don’t want to.”


“I’m allergic to courtrooms.”


Finally she settled on, “I stay at home with my 3 young children on the days I’m not at work, and so I don’t have childcare for them on those days.”

So, after a “leisurely” day of getting children fed and dressed, taking Big Brother to school, getting an allergy shot, going home and getting lunch, picking up Big Brother from school, running another errand, and running back home to get a Transformer so that a child who will remain nameless would not have a hissy fit, Mom-E and all 3 boys went to the:

COURT House.

In between the above, Mom-E called me to ask if she should wear her regular clothes or dress up for her excuse to be heard.

I suggested that regular clothes might help her case (i.e., if she has time to get all dulled up with three kids, then maybe they’re less likely to ‘buy’ her excuse.)

So into the court house they go.

Big Brother goes through the metal detector and is rewarded with the sheriff ticker described above.

Of course, because Little Brother is in the stroller and has to go around the metal detector, he is NOT given a sticker (apparently they forgot about him).

In an amazingly mature display of big brotherdom, Big Brother graciously gives the sticker to Little Brother.

So Mom-E and the boys go to a staging area with upwards of 10 other people also trying to get out of jury duty.

To her amazement, without saying anything, Mom-E is whisked to the front of the line.

Apparently, there’s a rule in our area that if you’re the primary caretaker for a child under age 6, you’re excused from jury duty.

So, with no to-do whatsoever, Mom-E got her “get out of jail free” card and was on her way home.

(If only all government was so efficient.)

Later that evening, I very much enjoyed hearing about all of the exploits of the “Corn House”, as Little Brother so cutely mispronounced it.

(I’ll admit to asking him repeated questions about it, just to hear him say, “Corn House.”)

“We went to the Corn House, but they didn’t have any stickers,” he explained, with a very serious expression.

“Yeah, and they didn’t have any cages there either,” Big Brother added (expecting to find jail cells.)

I’ve since decided that if the boys ever start a band, it should be called “Corn House Boys.”

Have a good weekend,
Rock On!

Tuesday, July 27, 2010

The X-Factor

Dad Blogs Wordless Wednesday

Big Brother was mad at Dad-E (reason unknown) and expressed his frustration via Diego magna-doodle drawing. Fortunately, the "X" has since been lifted and we are buddies again.

See you on Fatherhood Friday,

Sunday, July 25, 2010

Bab-E Bonding

So Bab-E Brother is (slightly older than) 6 months old, sitting up well, loving Mom-E's homemade baby food (at times, depending on day and food offered), and sleeping pretty well at night (trying to let him scream it out instead of that 3:30 am feeding).

In general, he's a smily happy, chunky little booger with five fat rolls on his arms (too cute).

But something else about Bab-E Brother has captured my fascination recently.

We've reached a new level in our bonding.

Don't get me wrong, there's a tremendous bond between infant and father that I believe starts in utero. Since Mom-E is the sole food supply, we'd still try to give Bab-E Brother a little skin-to-skin time with Dad-E. And, of course, Mom-E and I have always had a pretty equal division of labor when it comes to diaper changing, rocking to sleep, etc.

Let's face it, however, when push comes to shove, Bab-E's want their Mom-E's. That's nothing against Dad-E's. The fact is when Mom-E is the food supply, she's the favorite go-to parent, hands-down.

But something's happened recently with Bab-E Brother, and it's clear that he's now very cognizant of the fact that his two parents are two different people.

Maybe it helped that for the better part of a week after Mom-E's surgery that I got to carry him around constantly. Maybe it's just a developmental thing.

Either way I'm not complaining.

Whenever I walk in the room now, or we make eye contact, I get this bright-eyed smile, and that "uncontrollable twitch" thing that bab-e's do when they're excited.

And he starts to vocalize (aka shriek) or looks quite restless until I pick him up.

It's very sweet. I love it. It's energizing.

It's one of those "I could've had the worst day ever, and one reaction from him like that makes it disappear in an instant."

In short, he loves his Dad-E, and I love him.

I always have, mind you, but it's just an amazing feeling when you start to see that bond of love reciprocated from your child.

Have a good week,
See you on Wordless Wednesday,

Thursday, July 22, 2010

Alien Reality TV Show

Happy Fatherhood Friday everyone! Before you're abducted, be sure to head on over to visit the great bloggers over at .

So my regular readers will now that Mom-E had surgery last week.

And that things have been a little "interesting" at our house.

I think I've figured out what's going on, and I promise that I don't have an emerging psychosis:

We're stars on a reality tv shown for aliens, kind of like The Truman Show.

I mean, you can't write a script for this kind of stuff.

Take the last episode Sunday night for example.

Mom-E is 3 days out from her surgery, and after the cabin fever reaches its peak, we're finally able to get out of the house (it took 3 days to get everyone showered and ready).

Mind you, although she'd like to, Mom-E is physically unable at this point to pick-up and carry even Bab-E Brother.

We go out for a bite to eat.

Little Brother and Bab-E Brother both fall asleep in the van on the way to the restaurant.

On the way home, we decide to go for a little drive, seeing as we've been at home for over 48 consecutive hours without going anywhere.

We decide to cruise through a really fancy neighborhood, where even a shack costs about $500,000.

As we're passing through, suddenly Bab-E Brother starts to scream. We assume he's hungry since he slept through dinner.

We pull into a cul-de-sac that's still undeveloped.

I get him and bring him to Mom-E, who's riding shotgun.

He continues to scream, appearing to have no interest in eating.

3 seconds later, Big Brother blurts out, "I've got to go pott-e!" (Even though he went potty twice at dinner, the last time being 5 minutes ago)

All the while, Little Brother is still passed out in his carseat. (It was his only defense.)

So we now have a little pickle.

Bab-E Brother is content standing on my lap and pretending to drive the minivan.

Mom-E, 3 days after surgery and still tired and uncomfortable, is hobbling along, clutching her abdomen in pain attempting to escort Big Brother to a part of the cul-de-sac where he can drop his drawers and pee in the bushes.

I said it before is my very first post ever, but I was just waiting for the cop car to come rolling by.

What a great scene: the baby is driving the minivan, the mommy (who looks like she just got kicked in the abdomen by an abusive husband) is helping the oldest child commit public urination--in a fancy residential neighborhood nonetheless--while the middle child is passed out in the backseat.

At that point, you know they're going to search for drugs in the minivan.

Like I said, there's only one possible explanation:
We're the most popular family reality tv show on some alien planet in the Andromeda galaxy.

Can you beam us our royalty checks? I think we're missing a few.

Have a good weekend,

Tuesday, July 20, 2010

New Blog Logo

"Bat Big Brother"

Thanks for the awesome artwork, buddy.

See you on Fatherhood Friday,

Sunday, July 18, 2010

I Wet My Bed, Dad-E

One of my favorite all-time movies is John Candy in Summer Rental

And below is one of my favorite all-time lines from the movie.

John Candy's family finds out they're staying in the wrong rental house. When the real renters show up, John Candy and his family must leave in the middle of the night. He goes to carry his little girl out of the house, when she says:

I don't know how it happened, but I swear that Little Brother got up in the middle of the night, downloaded and watched that scene from Netflix.

The day before Mom-E's surgery last week, Little Brother fell asleep in the van bringing Big Brother home from "summer school."

Mom-E carried Little Brother inside, and managed to put him down on the guest bed--where Grampap-E would sleep that night--without waking him up.

Murphy's Law would dictate that the dependably continent Little Brother would spew a yellow geyser while napping, soaking all layers--comforter, duvet, sheet, fitted sheet, and mattress pad--about an hour before Grampap-E showed up.

"I went pee-pee in your bed, Pap-Pap." he told him, honestly.


Fast forward to the night of Mom-E's surgery. After Mom-E was all tucked in her room for the evening, I went home and Grampap-E and I got the boys ready for bed. In "self-defense", after all the necessary housework was done, I made a bee-line for bed at about 11:30.

I enjoyed about 4 hours of sleep, after which the following ensued:

3:30 am Bab-E Brother wakes up screaming and hungry.

3:35 am Bab-E Brother and I are heating up his bottle downstairs.

4:00 am Bab-E Brother has FINALLY finished casually savoring every last drop of his bottle, has been rocked, and is calm enough to be put back in his crib.

4:10 am Little Brother awakens SCREAMING BLOODY MURDER and wants to get into bed with me.

4:11 am In an attempt to avoid waking up Bab-E Brother, Little Brother is snugly in bed with me.

4:30 am Bab-E Brother wakes up SCREAMING. Re-inserting binkie does not do the trick.

5:00 am Bab-E Brother has FINALLY calmed down again such that he is willing to go back into his crib

5:01 am Little Brother screams, "MY PANTS ARE WET"



5:02 am Damage Report

-Little Brother was getting out of bed (presumably to go potty).
-Little Brother's pull-up had been pulled off well before this guessed it...Little Brother
-Little Brother has flooded Mom-E and Dad-E's bed, while trying to get down/out of it.
-This means that pee has soaked through EVERY POSSIBLE LAYER OF BED, including: Sheet, Fitted Sheet, Matress Pad, Pillow Top, Dust Ruffle, AND Box Spring!

(You can only imagine what kind of angle he'd have to pee from to douse all of that.)

5:05 am Little Brother in new jammies wrapped in blanket on the floor of my bedroom

5:06-5:30 am Dad-E is pulling all layers of bedding off into a "peed on" pile. He then pulls both mattress and box springs off the bed. He then proceeds to use towels and Spot Shot to remove as much pee as possible from mattress and box springs

5:30 am Dad-E and Little Brother go crash on the couch in the play room.

6:30 am Dad-E oversleeps his alarm.

Etc, Etc, Etc.

Fast-forward to Mom-E comes home from the hospital and is ready to crash in our bed.

Little Brother casually informs her, "I went pee-pee in your bed. Dad-E and I slept on the couch in the playroom."

"Thanks. Just Big Brother's bed is left for the trifecta!"

Could somebody please cancel his subscription to Netflix?!?

Have a good--no pee in the bed--week,

Friday, July 16, 2010

A Nap and A Date

Happy Fatherhood Friday everyone! Before you nod off, be sure to head on over to visit the great bloggers over at .

When Mom-E and I were engaged, more often than not on Sundays following church and lunch, after a long week we'd decide to take a "little" afternoon nap.

And by "little", I mean we'd start out saying "Let's just rest for an hour."

THREE hours later we'd wake-up and it'd almost be dinnertime.

All I can say is, "Man, them were some GOOOOD naps."

Now I wouldn't trade our current chaotic lifestyle with 3 boys age 5 and under for anything, but there are DEFINITELY some times when a 3-hour nap on the weekend would be a royal treat.

However, I think Mom-E has figured out a way to rekindle nap time.

Two words:


Now granted she did have to fast beforehand, and we did have to make arrangements for Grampap-E to watch the boys while we're at the hospital,...

...and yeah, there's that whole part about post-op pain, a sore throat from the breathing tube, recovery time, and not being able to lift objects heavier than Bab-E Brother (i.e., Little Brother and Big Brother).

Hey, but she really did get about a 2-hour nap--completely uninterrupted--out of the deal.

And, to boot, Mom-E and I got a "date" of sorts by getting some time to hang out--albeit in a recovery room--with just the two of us.

But seriously, one of the things I love most about Mom-E and I is that we truly enjoy each other's company, just talking and laughing together, regardless of the situation.

(With the joyful chaos at home, we pretty much have to find the humor in little things, lest we go insane.)

I know this will serve us well when we're (hopefully really) old without the eyesight or mobility to do much else.

Seriously though, Mom-E did have some relatively minor surgery, although the words surgery and minor are somewhat of an oxymoron.

She's doing fine and starting to recouperate, but nonetheless appreciates your thoughts and prayers (especially that Little Brother--in true middle child fashion--will be able to tolerate being carried around less than usual).

Have a great weekend,

Wednesday, July 14, 2010

The Future's So Bright

Dad Blogs Wordless Wednesday

I gotta wear shades!

See you on Fatherhood Friday,

Sunday, July 11, 2010

Christmas in July

So, it was one of those weekends at the home of Busy-Dad-E.

Mom-E and Dad-E are both tired, with that "I'm not sick, but I have a scratchy throat and feel ere so slightly yucky."

Small men are not tired, and in fact have excess energy, and are extremely ere so slightly mischevious and VERY whiny/bickery.

The result is that Mom-E and Dad-E have started making a Christmas list (hey it's July, why not).

Please help us out with any/all of the following:

1. 30 hours in a day clock

2. One of those Time Turners from Harry Potter to add even more time to 30 hour days.

3. Mom-E and Dad-E Clones to attend to whichever child is awake and screaming any given hour of night.

4. Semi-Automatic Benadryl Dart Gun with Extra Belt Clip

5. A Remote Control for the boys, complete with mute and pause buttons, a W-Chip (Whine Blocking Chip), and a sleep timer that doesn't go off before 7 am.

6. A non-alcoholic beverage that has the same tastes and effects as regular alcohol, that isn't passed into breast milk (for Mom-E and other nursing moms everywhere). And while your at it, how about a new Coke Zero that actually takes like regular Coke

7. A plane ticket for my blogger friend and NYPD member O'Shea to come to our neck o' the woods as a "motivational speaker" for my boys on good behavior, with particular emphasis on not whining.

Have a good week,

Thursday, July 8, 2010

Leaving Home

Happy Fatherhood Friday everyone! After you've had the chance to peruse my blog, it's okay if you leave to head on over to the great bloggers over at .

So Lebron James is leaving home.

Let me just say that I'm really not much of a professional sports fan.

I have no intention of turning this post into a rant about how out-of-whack our society's priorities are when it comes to sports. I mean, there are many great things about sports, but frankly most professional athletes are a bunch of way overpaid, immature, cry-babies.

Okay, I best stop.

Actually, what interests me most about the whole Lebron thing is the outcry of hate from the folks in Cleveland about his departure.

At this point you might be thinking, "what the heck does this have to do with fatherhood?"

I think the analogy here is "it's okay to leave the nest" and "you've got to live your life."

I love my children. I love being around them. However, I feel like some measure of my success as a parent is my children being able to, one day, leave and go where their dreams take them.

If those dreams take them far away, that's okay, we'll fly/Skype/etc. If they keep them close to Mom-E and I, that's cool too. Or maybe they go away for awhile, and then decide to come back closer to home.

The point is, there's a huge world out there full of interesting places, people, and cultures (even within the US). And it's okay to savor that. Living in different places is akin to trying different foods (in which case, at this rate, Big Brother is destined to be a home-body.)

I was born and raised in a smallish town in which most people stay there after high school (or return after college). However, my career and my family took me elsewhere. Although you never know where life may take you, at this point, I don't have any intentions of returning to that area to live. Ever. But, when I visit home, I sometimes get this strange, vague sense of "why did you leave?"

In short, my life took me elsewhere.

I'm not here to pass judgment on any individual's decision. Some people have a calling to live in the area where they grew up. Other people may choose to travel the world.

I just think it's important that my boys develop a self-confidence that allows them to recognize that they have options as to where they live, and that "home" may be a very dynamic place over their lives.

Cleveland, leave Lebron alone. In the grand scheme, who cares. There are more important things in this life to worry about.

Have a good weekend,

Wednesday, July 7, 2010

Most Likely to Get a Tattoo

Dad Blogs Wordless Wednesday

And the winner is...

Little Brother!

See you on Fatherhood Friday,
Hide your pens!

Monday, July 5, 2010

Potty Role Reversal

Hi Everyone!

Sorry to have briefly dropped off the side of the bloggosphere.

Between a mini-vacation, and our internet service being out for a few days, I've missed a couple of posts.

I hope everyone had a nice July 4th weekend.

I'm starting a new job this week.

Reflecting on this change, I was thinking about an old post about what'd happen if, as parents, we behaved like our kids at work.

As I think about making a good first impression, I came up with a few potty-related behaviors to avoid this week:

1. I will not dance on my tip-toes in the hallway outside my office until someone asks me if I have to go potty.

2. Once I acknowledge having to go potty as in #1 above, I will not continue to wait to go potty until I have to go so "badly" that I end up spraying some on the floor because I'm rushing to pee before my bladder explodes.

3. If I have to go #2, I will not scream out loud to ask my boss to help me wipe my backside afterwards.

4. I will not pull forcefully on my zipper while sitting in a meeting room filled with people, and when asked by my colleagues if I have to go potty, reply curtly with, "No."

5. I will not sit in the same meeting as in #4 above, suddenly realize my chair is wet, raise my hand and say, "I went pee-pee already."

6. Five minutes after wetting my seat, I will not stand up and do the same thing to the carpet behind my chair, and say "I went pee-pee again."

7. After wetting myself twice as above, I will not insist that my boss carry me upstairs so I can get a new pair of pee-onts (pants).

8. I will not run out of the potty wearing nothing below my waist, and promptly sit on the floor and start playing with toys.

9. If I go #2 while at the office, I will not ask my colleagues to come look at it before I flush.

10. I will not insist on only doing #2 on my Elmo potty seat at HOME, holding out long enough that I eventually soil myself in my office.

Have a good week,
Remember your potty manners,