Real Men Get Pedicures

Our kids get a birthday party with their friends every other year. The other years they get a date with Mom and Dad. Pretty much whatever they want to do.

Paige just had her 12th birthday and it was her turn for a date night.

Her choice of the perfect evening was to get her toe nails done and then go out for a nice dinner. And she wanted Mom and Dad beside her the entire night.

So....I marched right into the nail salon and took a seat between Mindy and Paige. All eyes were on me until I sat down and put my feet in the water. Then the conversation resumed and I was treated as one of the gals.

I got all the gook cleaned out of my toe nails and a great massage.



But I have to admit. This wasn't the first time. Nor will it be the last.

Ego Boost

There was a time when the NBA played a much bigger role in my life. For example, while on my honeymoon in Europe, I woke up at 3am to watch Michael Jordan win the NBA Finals. And lest you think Mindy was an NBA widow, she herself demanded the TVs in her maternity rooms be tuned to the current game. Since all our kids were born in April or June, we associate birthing with the Playoffs.

But the past several years neither of us have been watching.

The other night though I was tired. I had been to the gym, in my never ending quest to battle the aging process. I just wanted to sit and relax my tired and sore muscles in front of the TV. The Playoffs were on so I watched my first game of the entire season. Paige (11) sat down with me. She was intrigued by the game and all these players she had heard about from the boys at school. She asked lots of questions about the rules, the players, etc.

After a while she noticed something else. This was the dialog:

Paige: "These guys are huge. Look how much bigger they are then the refs."
Me: "Yep".
Paige: "And look at those muscles. Wow they really have muscles."
Me: "Yep".
Paige: "Dad did you ever have muscles?"

I guess I should stop posing and flexing in front of the mirror at the gym.

A Little Blond in a Sea of Black

Anyone who has seen Garrett and Ryan's hair understands. They just shouldn't be blond. Their hair is thick and kinky.

Getting a good haircut for them has been challenging.

Our local high priced, kid focused beauty shops just didn't get our kids hair. The TV screens, the balloons and the overly cheerful stylists didn't make up for bad haircuts.

So we searched. We needed a place that could deal with the anomaly that sits atop our boys heads.

We finally found some kindred spirits at a Vietnamese barber. They are magicians with the clippers and charge only $8 a head.

We are regulars now and they all know Garrett and Ryan by name and jockey for the chance to shear them.

I get a kick out of the tufts of blond in the mounds of black hair on the floor.

Don't Forget To Take Pictures

Since breaking my rib on New Years day I haven't been doing too much mountain biking. About the closest I have come was yesterday. I decided to thoroughly clean my bike which was still caked in dirt from before Christmas.

I invited Garrett (5) and Ryan (3) to help. We turned my bike upside down and began spraying, brushing and drying. I went so far as to get an old toothbrush and really go after some grime in hard to reach places.

Garrett and Ryan were having fun spinning the front tire as I dug for dirt. While I was hunched over my back tire Garrett suddenly began running for the house screaming for "Mom".

I called to him but he kept running.

I hadn't seen what had happened so I sat there for a few seconds analyzing his cries. Finally his pitch and tone convinced me I should at least go in and see what was wrong. As I walked towards the house I started noticing the drops of blood.

I picked up my pace and found Mindy holding a bloody paper towel on Garrett's left index finger. Mindy and I both looked as I pulled back the wrapping and looked at the wound.

Wow. We instantly knew he was headed to the hospital.

There was a fair amount of commotion as we tried to figure out who was going to do what while Garrett continued wailing and all the other kids and their friends crowded around to ogle at all the blood.

At last Mindy headed off to the hospital with Garrett. After they drove off I cleaned up the blood and calmed the kids down. But then I remembered something critical.

I called Mindy's cell phone. She didn't answer. I called again, and again and again. I was panicked that she had forgotten to take her cell phone.

Finally she called back.

Me: Hey
Mindy: What is it?
Me: Don't forget to take pictures
Mindy: Is that why you keep calling me?

Yep, I was panicked that I wouldn't have any pictures for a Blog. So thanks to my insistence we have pictures of what happens when you stick your fingers into the hydraulic brakes of a tire that is spinning.

It looked even worse in person

Garrett putting on a good face

6 stitches later

Polish Hunger Strike

As a child I often pulled stunts to show my parents how angry I was. My Dad would always refer to them as Polish Hunger Strikes.

It wasn't until I was 11 years old at scout camp that I fully understood the meaning. One of the boys became upset at something the leaders had required of him. So he decided to sit in his tent all day and not eat.

My Father, one of the leaders, just laughed and couldn't stop laughing. He stated: "Now who exactly is he hurting?"

Unfortunately for my Father I thought long and hard about his question. From that time on he didn't chuckle as much when I pulled stunts.

Oh the cycle of life.

Now I have a little guy pulling stunts on me, Garrett (5).

The other day we gently removed Garrett to our guest bathroom where we hoped he would quietly ponder his poor behavior and then happily rejoin the family. But Garrett felt an extreme injustice had befallen him and upon entering the bathroom he began a long and detailed diatribe of all the woes that had been heaped on him by his terrible parents. We were a little surprised at how articulate he was while screaming bloody murder for 20 minutes.

Then there was silence and we thought a lesson had been learned and it was time for Garrett re-enter mainstream society.

But upon opening the door to the bathroom we discovered that Garrett's silence was not humble recognition of his evil ways. He was only silent because he had been engaged in his own private Polish Hunger Strike.

He had discovered a razor in the cupboard and confident that we were going to forever be sorry for tormenting him in the bathroom, he shaved off his eyebrows.

His dark, thick eyebrows.

He looked hilarious. Mindy couldn't stop laughing. She quickly took a picture with her iPhone and starting sending it to all her friends.

By the time Garrett went to school in the morning he had realized his stunt wasn't turning out like he had thought, everyone was just laughing at him. So when his teacher asked him what had happened he looked her in the eye and said "My Mom cut my eyebrows". He was convincing enough that there was a brief discussion about Child Protective Services.

Wow. He's learning fast.

Mom, Dad - Help!!

Tender Mercy

I like to whimper and complain when I don't get my way. And recently that has been often.

You see I don't like restrictions, especially when it comes to money.

So with this economic downturn Mindy, the responsible one in our home, started yapping about budgets and concepts like needs and wants. The first couple of times I listened politely without commenting, hoping the topic wouldn't reappear.

But all it took was a few more American Express charges on my part and whammo we were talking about finances again.

I had been reluctantly prodded into more appropriate spending habits. But Mindy wasn't quite sure of my true conversion.

And that brings us to last Saturday night around 8:30pm.

It was at this moment that I realized I had made a mistake and failed to assign an adult speaker for Church the next morning. I panicked as I realized that since it was my mistake I couldn't pawn the assignment off on anyone else.

I had to speak in the morning.

So I pulled out my calendar to see what topic had been assigned. I chuckled as I read "Living Within Your Means".

My Saturday night was spent reviewing the council the leaders of the Church have given us regarding money. Then I stood in front of our congregation Sunday morning and shared all I had learned.

Mindy has been kind in her triumph. She has saved me the discomfort of long discussions regarding certain expenses and just informed me of our decision to which I meekly comply.

It's tough to be married to someone who is always right. Good thing she's hot.

Na-Na-Na-Na-Na-Na

The other night was Daddy's Night at Ryan's (3) pre-school. Part of the night's festivities included singing time.

Last year Garrett (5), stood and watched as the other kids sang and danced. He wanted nothing to do with singing in front of a group.

But Ryan is no Garrett. As you can see from the picture below, Ryan is in green, he couldn't have been more excited to sing and dance.

His favorite song? The Chicken Dance.

I'm assuming his tastes will improve. But look at that face he was loving it.

Notice all the Dad's standing around staring at their kids as they cavort around the room, snapping pictures here and there. What is this odd ritual we do??

This is what I thought when Garrett was three? Read it