Busy-Dad-E, DDS (Doesn't Do Surgery)

I’m not a dentist, nor have I ever aspired to be a dentist.

And now I’ve confirmed why.

On a recent trip to Papa’s, we made a trip to Mom-E and I’s all-time favorite pizza place. It happens to be a block away (literally) from the hospital where Big Brother was born.

And Big Brother loves to hear the story about how after he was born, Dad-E and Aunt-E picked up a pizza from there, and it was so cold and snowy that day that the pizza got cold during the 1 block trip back to the hospital.

We were finishing up our meal, when all of a sudden Big Brother looked at me, panic-stricken, and his mouth had a minor gush of blood.

His wiggly tooth had gone from wiggly to “hanging by a thread and needs to come out, lest he choke on it/lost it”. (I’m not even sure if he ate anything).

But Big Brother wanted no part in any dental work.

So we kinda ignored things for a while, until the bill was paid and it was time to go.

Quickly, I diagrammed up a new play from the “Dad-E Playbook”, and broke the huddle with Mom-E and Papa.

On the way out of the pizza place, I took 2 lollipops. When we got outside, I said, “Who wants a lollipop?” This enabled us to get Big Brother and Little Brother sitting down at an outside table.

While the boys started working on their lollipops, Mom-E held Bab-E Brother (Wiggly, loose teeth is like “nails on the chalkboard” for Mom-E. I would think having given birth to them, that wiggly teeth would be no big deal, but apparently not. And that’s okay. She gave birth to them that gives her carte blanche tap out of this.”

And so Papa helped me restrain hold Big Brothers arms, and with a napkin I reached in, and with a combination ‘wiggle-wiggle-pull’ technique, 2 seconds later I had the tooth in my hand. Never mind the screaming bloody murder part that must’ve left the pizza place wondering what the heck was going on outside.

Fortunately, no one called the police.

After a few more minutes of tears (and some genuine concern about how long it will take for the permanent tooth to come in), I wrote Big Brother (and Little Brother) a “prescription” for ice cream, and all was right with the world again.

(I also had a brief talk with Big Brother about how I would never hurt or scare him on purpose. And that while I know he was scared about having his tooth pulled, that I did it because it had to come out, because if we didn’t, it could cause bigger problems).

Like the sea turtles that return to the beach where they were born to lay their eggs as adults, it’s fitting that Big Brother returned to our favorite pizza place, near the hospital where he was born, to lose his first tooth.

This is definitely a story he’ll never forget (just like when Mom-E jumped into that pit of plastic balls at her 6th birthday party 

Congratulations on losing your first tooth, Big Brother! We’re so proud of you, and we love your new grin. You’re so excited to come back to school to show your teacher and friends.

Have a good week,
Busy-Dad-E

P.S. We know what you want for Christmas.

Happy 3rd Birthday Little Brother

A little belated, but with much love.

Dear Little Brother,

I’m filled with pride on your 3rd birthday at what a wonderfully bright, outspoken, charismatic little boy you’ve become.

We had a really nice birthday party with family and friends at the local park. The theme was “Wow Wow Wubbzy”, and we transformed the pavilion into a virtual “Wubb Clubb”. Amongst all of the wonderful food (highlighted by Mom-E’s homemade beer turkey (REF) and Wubbzy cupcakes, complete with melted chocolate tails), gifts, decorations, and a pinata, the biggest hit was definitely…

…Balloons.

Not only did you and your friends have fun frolicking with (and breaking) many, many yellow balloons, even other unknown children came up to us asking for a balloon. (Uh, hello, parents, please supervise your children).

Mom-E even hand-crafted a Wubbzy costume for you (and Big Brother), given your love dressing up as your favorite characters. And in typical, fickle, 3 year-old fashion, you’ve willingly wore the costume for a grand total of about 3 minutes. (Fortunately, Big Brother has worn his extensively.)

We also enjoyed a “private” family party at a local Jumping Place. On your actual birthday, I joined up with you, Mom-E, and your brothers after work, and we were the only people there. We had a lot of fun trying out new slides and jumping apparati, which we had all to ourselves, for about $10.

You’ve always loved (and vehemently insisted) that I carry you. I’d guess that when I’m not at home, I probably have carried you close to 50% of the time. Obviously, as you get older and bigger, that just won’t be feasible (especially as I’ve needed to carry Bab-E Brother). And while my Back is thankful for that change, there is a little part of me that will miss not carrying you around as much.

You are a talker. You’ve impressed many an adult with the vocabulary (and understanding) that comes out of your tiny (in the age-appropriate sense) mouth. You are not afraid to state your opinion. Like Big Brother, I will not worry much about peer pressure with you. As with all children, you do have a few idiosyncrasies in your speech. This is normal development as you “learn” English, but still funny (I shouldn’t poke fun, in 3 years your English is WAY better than my French ever was). You always say “her” instead of “she”, and “doos” instead of “does”. I can’t help but chuckle when you combine them into “Her doos that.” You also say “grirl” instead of “girl”, which also always brings us a smile. We can always count on you to ask questions. And ask them over and over and over…

Overall, despite some more clingy moments, you’re generally extroverted around others. (While being held by Mom-E or Dad-E), you’ve had some extensive conversations with complete strangers. This extroversion is carrying over to peer socialization as well. You once told Mom-E that there was a boy you like to play with at the C-I-A (REF). Mom-E asked you his name, to which you said, “I don’t know”, and so she suggested you ask him “what’s your name?” About a week later, while riding in the minivan, you spontaneously and randomly blurted out, “His name is Gabe.” I wish I could’ve been a fly on the wall for that conversation.

I’m glad that as the “middle child”, you have a strong sense of individual identity. Sure, you definitely look up to (and frequently mimic) Big Brother, and you also look out for Bab-E Brother, but it’s clear that you are your own person. I can’t wait to see how your individual interests develop—right now your favorite pastime is throwing ‘bouncy balls’ everywhere. No doubt, some more Youth Sports are in our near future.

You spend more time in costumes (usually Robin) and jammies than you do in clothes. And when we can get you to wear clothes, it takes a special session of Congress for those clothes to be pants (versus shorts), no matter how cold it gets. The moment we get home, you pretty much strip naked in the entryway and exclaim “I need jammies.” And if a single drop of urine makes its way into your underwear, your under-roos and pants instantly fly off—even if it’s right in the middle of a friend’s baptismal lunch—with a cry for “I need new pee-onts.” Lord help us when you go off to college.

You’re a wonderful son and brother, a true gift from God. You fill our lives with joy and excitement every day.

I’m very proud of you.

I love you, dude,
Busy-Dad-E

Why Travelling with Young Kids is Hard

In 100 words or less.

An essay by Busy-Dad-E

*****
After a 3 hour adventure getting the boys urinated, bathed, urinated, dressed, urinated, fed, urinated and loaded in the minivan (and urinated), we were ready to depart on a 400 mile road trip. We circled around to the front of the hotel (a distance of about 50 feet) to check-out. We parked, and as I unbuckled my seatbelt, Little Brother asked—in all sincerity—“are we at Papa’s?”

“Not quite, buddy,” I replied. “only another 2,111,950 feet to go.”

*****

See you on Fatherhood Friday,
Happy Turkey Day Tomorrow,
From my 3 Turkeys to Yours,
Busy-Dad-E

Pee.S. A proposed new unit of measure for travelling with young kids: Gallons Per Mile
(gallons being measured in urine). Any number greater than 1 is bad.

On The Road Again

Hi there! Just a quick note that we're recovering from a recent trip, which means (among other things) plenty of good, new blog material for later this week. See you on Wednesday.

Until then,
Busy-Dad-E

Pictures Day

Happy Fatherhood Friday everyone!

And yes, I mean PictureS Day. Plural.

DISCLOSURE: The following was NOT a stunt, and should be only attempted by experienced families with multiple small children. Serious injury to body and mind are possible.

*****
So earlier this week, Mom-E took Little Brother for his 3 year-old pictures.

Because Mom-E and I (I sometimes go, because you really need two parents) like to make things as difficult as possible on ourselves we actually travel about 90 minutes--each way--to the same photographer who did our wedding. I know that sounds crazy, but it's DEFINITELY worth the trip. This photographer is truly "filet mignon", and makes anyone else seem like "roadkill." Okay, maybe that's extreme, but he's awesome.

We've been making the long trek for years now, and we've come to expect that no matter how horrible the trip there goes, small children will smile and the pictures will be amazing.

This week was no different.

There was a 6 mile stretch of vehicular crawling traffic jam on the interstate, and Mom-E was about 40 minutes late. (Fortunately, the photographer was late, too.)

And Little Brother fell asleep on the way. In this case, that's a bad thing, because in contrast to his usually happy little self, Little Brother is a screaming, fussing, incosolable snot ball for about 20 minutes after waking up from a nap (I don't get it).

Apparently he threw a fit in the studio, including, at one point, throwing the pants he was to wear in a trash can.

But then they started blowing bubbles, and soon all was right with the world.

And lots of wonderful pictures ensued.

*****
If you're not tired yet, you're in luck, because there's more.

We decided to have a family picture taken for Christmas cards this year at a store at the mall, rather than take our own and make the cards via Snapfish. In part because last year it took us about an hour of screaming to get a family photo in which most everyone was sorta-kinda looking at the camera

Mom-E looked at the calendar, and between work, child, and other schedules, the only two possible dates were the same day as Little Brother's 3 year-old photos OR the day before Thanksgiving.

Having a death wish hoping to avoid holiday traffic, we opted for a picture "two-fer".

So after work, I met up with Mom-E and the boys for Round 2. Ding-ding.

The boys like the picture place, because they either get crayons or balloons.

We ended up getting a nice family picture with 5 smiles and 5 pairs of eyes on the camera. And we got 50 Christmas cards plus an 8x10 for about $23, after coupons (i.e., cheaper than SnapFish). And, to boot, the whole family was color-coordinated, outfit-wise.

After the pictures, we had Subway (of course) at the mall, and then as promised took the boys to the playground at the mall afterwards. They all had a grand time.

Since it was getting kinda late for small men, at about 7pm, we decided to head home.

***
But as we were leaving, we noticed that Santa's workshop was up and SANTA WAS HOME!

Even better, there was ABSOLUTELY NO LINE!

Big Brother and Little Brother, to our amazement, both expressed excitement about sitting on Santa's lap. (Last year, Little Brother was terrified and Big Brother wanted no part).

Mom-E and I looked at each other and instantly shared the same (brilliantly) delusional fantasy:

3 boys, all with color-coordinated outfits, no line, and willingness to sit on Santa's lap?

WHY NOT! LET'S GO FOR THE TRIFECTA!

"BUSY DAD-E, FOR THE WIN!...

AND...

IT'S...

GOOD! YAY!"

In short, we completed the THIRD photo session of the day (condensing what would otherwise take 27 days into 1), with smiles and cheerfulness (and two trips to the potty while trying to get everyone into the van to go home.)

And so now, while all the rest of you are spending your Saturdays getting everyone ready and battling the long lines at the mall for Santa, we'll be home cleaning up the giant messes made by 3 small men relaxing, with our feet running all over tarnation kicked up, enjoying a cup of hot cocoa that's gone cold because we didn't have time to drink it, because someone had to pee, then the dog ate a sock, then someone else spilled something

Well, you get the idea.

Have a good weekend,
Busy-Dad-E

Rare Wild Turkey

I'm not sure if he was inspired by my beer turkey recipe post, but Big Brother has created his own recipe for Thanksgiving.

Yesterday, I took Big Brother to school. Since it was his day to bring snacks, I got to carry the heavy bag with 20 water bottles and bags of cheez-its escort him to his classroom.

Outside the classroom, each student had written instructions for how to prepare a Thanksgiving turkey. They were learning about "steps": First, Next, Last, etc.

I noticed most of the children wrote, "First, you buy a turkey at Store X".

Big Brother's "essay" started a little differently, and I share his recipe with you now.

***
First, you catch a turkey outside.

Next, you put salt on it and cook it in a frying pot for 1 minute.

Last, you eat it with your mom.
***

Hmm...sounds like a very interesting recipe for "Rare Wild Turkey".

A number of questions follow, including: 1) Do you kill the turkey first or cook it alive?, 2) Does it still have feathers?, 3) Can I get an antibiotic prescription for Salmonella since it only cooks for a minute?

I'm relieved glad that Mom-E was selected for the "taste test".

That's okay, honey. You can have the neck.

See you on Fatherhood Friday,
Busy-Dad-E

Superhero Down

Hey, even Robin's gotta nap sometime.

Don'tcha wish you could just fall asleep anywhere, comfortably?

Have a good week,

Stay tuned to find out if he woke up, or if the Joker is running rampant around our house,
Busy-Dad-E

Da-Da Shake Your No-No

Happy Fatherhood Friday everyone!

If you thought I was introducing the next hit single by our very own "Corn House Boys", I'm afraid you'll have to wait.

Bab-E Brother continues to grow and develop by leaps and bounds.

He has officially broken his vow of silence, and is now suffering from oral diarrhea. And despite being called "diarrhea", it is quite pleasant to the (aural)senses.

He is now babbling ALL DAY LONG. Da-da-da-da...Ma-ma-ma-ma...Ga (the latter being his term for sock). Perhaps it takes his mind away from teething pain.

I can't wait until the ma-ma and da-da become "specific".

Bab-E Brother has also learned the "No-No" head shake.

Fortunately, he has yet to learn the word "no", although we all k"no"w that's coming soon.

Instead, he seems to be mimicking Little Brother, who suavely shakes his head in said fashion while grooving to cool jams.

(Great. Note to self. Learning of (potenitally bad) habits from older brothers is in full-swing.)

This is quite funny, because you can ask him "Bab-E Brother, do you want some Cheerios?"

And he'll shake his head "No", which is promptly followed by shovelling in a hand full of Cheerios to the point of almost choking.

In contrast to "ma-ma" and "da-da", I can wait until the "no's" become specific.

And if all that wasn't exciting enough, Bab-E Brother is also on-the-move.

He can make about 2 shuffles in "regular" crawling position, before he collapses into a full-blown "commando crawl."

But even "commando crawling", the boy slithers like a speedy snake, particularly if a choking hazzard has caught his eye.

(Note to self: additional "baby-proofing" has just received a complementary upgrade to first-class.)

Keep up the good work, buddy. We'll have our third small ambulatory man in no time.

Lord help us.

Have a good weekend,
Busy-Dad-E

Wubbzy Brothers

Pure childhood joy, innocence, excitement, and brotherhood, all in one picture.

Happy 3rd birthday, Little Brother! You boys are the best!

See you on Fatherhood Friday,
Busy-Dad-E

Beer Turkey

So we celebrated Little Brother's 3rd birthday this past weekend (more details to follow in a future post).

On the lunch menu, we had turkey sandwiches, using a crockpot-style beer turkey recipe (courtesy of Aunt-E and family, I believe).

We've had this turkey recipe before, but I'd forgotten just how good it is. If you've ever had fried turkey, it's similar--tender and juicy, and the leftovers stay moist--but easier to make (less time, no need to buy oil).

And so in a break from the usual (hey, variety is the spice of life), I've decided to share this recipe

Ingredients:
1 (or 2) boneless turkey breasts
1 24 ounces of (your choice of) beer
2 14.5 ounce cans of (low sodium) chicken broth
Garlic salt, (dried) rosemary, and fresh cilantro to taste

Directions:
1. Put turkey in the crockpot (we like to use those plastic liners, which make clean-up a cinch)
2. Pour in beer and chicken broth
3. Add seasonings to taste
4. Cook on low for 8 hours.

That's it. It only takes about 15 minutes. We put the turkey in to cook before bed, and it was done by breakfast.

Enjoy!

Have a good week,
Busy-Dad-E

Da-Da Shake Your No-No

Happy Fatherhood Friday everyone!

If you thought I was introducing the next hit single by our very own "Corn House Boys", I'm afraid you'll have to wait.

Bab-E Brother continues to grow and develop by leaps and bounds.

He has officially broken his vow of silence, and is now suffering from oral diarrhea. And despite being called "diarrhea", it is quite pleasant to the (aural)senses.

He is now babbling ALL DAY LONG. Da-da-da-da...Ma-ma-ma-ma...Ga (the latter being his term for sock). Perhaps it takes his mind away from teething pain.

I can't wait until the ma-ma and da-da become "specific".

Bab-E Brother has also learned the "No-No" head shake.

Fortunately, he has yet to learn the word "no", although we all k"no"w that's coming soon.

Instead, he seems to be mimicking Little Brother, who suavely shakes his head in said fashion while grooving to cool jams.

(Great. Note to self. Learning of (potenitally bad) habits from older brothers is in full-swing.)

This is quite funny, because you can ask him "Bab-E Brother, do you want some Cheerios?"

And he'll shake his head "No", which is promptly followed by shovelling in a hand full of Cheerios to the point of almost choking.

In contrast to "ma-ma" and "da-da", I can wait until the "no's" become specific.

And if all that wasn't exciting enough, Bab-E Brother is also on-the-move.

He can make about 2 shuffles in "regular" crawling position, before he collapses into a full-blown "commando crawl."

But even "commando crawling", the boy slithers like a speedy snake, particularly if a choking hazzard has caught his eye.

(Note to self: additional "baby-proofing" has just received a complementary upgrade to first-class.)

Keep up the good work, buddy. We'll have our third small ambulatory man in no time.

Lord help us.

Have a good weekend,
Busy-Dad-E

An Election Day Story

Happy Fatherhood Friday everyone! If you didn't vote in the midterm elections, it's obviously too late. But it's not too late to show your support for the great bloggers over at dad-blogs.com (assuming that they still have this after missing last week).

So on Election Day, we told the boys as we were leaving that Mom-E and Dad-E were going to go vote. Mom-E dropped off Big Brother at school, and I took Little Brother and Bab-E Brother with me to the polling place.

As we're driving there, Little Brother, in his usual loquacious fashion, begins a line of interrogation/comments. (Sometimes, it reminds me of the nephew in Uncle Buck who, unrelentingly, asks consecutive questions, often without a chance to respond.)

DO BIG FISH BITE?

WHY DO FISH BITE?

LITTLE FISH DON'T BITE YOU?

I LIKE LITTLE FISH.

SHARKS BITE.

WHAT DO YOU DO SO SHARKS DON'T BITE YOU?

(I quickly got in, "Stay away from sharks.", here).

HOW DO YOU MAKE YOUR STRING LONG ENOUGH?

For what?

YOU NEED THE RIGHT STRING.

HOW DO YOU GET A POLE?

(Moment of clarity. Oh, we're talking about fishing. "You can buy one at the store.")


*****
The inquisition continues for a good 5+ minutes, even as we're getting out of the van.

I have no idea what the heck he's talking about.

As we're walking in, BAM! It suddenly dawns on me why he's been asking these questions.

"Little Brother, do you think we're going BOATING?"

(We went through a phase where Curious George Goes Fishing was a nightly read.)

YES.

"No, we're going Voting, not boating. Can you say 'boating'?"

NO, I CAN'T SAY THAT.

At which point, the whole thing becomes completely hysterical.

And it becomes even funnier when he continues his line of questioning while we're in line.

IS THERE A BIG FISH IN THIS LINE?

"No, we're voting, not boating."

It continues, even as we're about to leave.

ARE WE GOING FISHING NOW?

That Little Brother is something else.

"Curious thing, the mind of a child is" - Jedi Master Yoda

Have a good weekend,
If your candidates weren't elected, you can always go boating,
Busy-Dad-E

Toothpaste Afficionado

Hello there!

So, Bab-E Brother had his two lower front teeth erupt a while back, and has been enjoying excessive drooling, chewing on everything, and generalized ouchiness all the fun that comes along with teething.

And, of course, having teeth means needing to brush teeth.

(On an semi-related note, it's amazing how much time it takes some mornings to brush the teeth of 3 small boys)

It took Mom-E and I a few weeks, but we've figured out that Bab-E Brother is a toothpaste afficionado.

We initially tried just brushing him (his teeth, that is, not the baby) with water, but you're more likely to see Palin vote for Obama than for Bab-E Brother to open his mouth voluntarily, without screaming.

Then, Mom-E found out that the "magic trick" to successful tooth brushing for him is to add a little trainer toothpaste. And voila...a willing participant. And a budding connoisseur.

That is, I recently found out that the brand of toothpaste apparently matters. I tried some Thomas the Train(er) toothpaste, and my hand was almost bit off slurped on, he closed his mouth so fast.

So, I guess he's a Colgate kid. For now.

But least we know how to get access to his teeth for brushing. That's gotta save me a few minutes...somehow. So long as I can find the right toothpaste. Colgate. Red tube only. Made in 2010. 400 Oak St. Cincinnati, Ohio. While listening to 97X

See you on Fatherhood Friday,
BAM!
Busy-Dad-E