The Two.

     Just stumbled upon this great site called TwoOfUs.org. It's all about tips and tricks for parenting with an emphasis on relationships. I like it and their philosophy seems to meld with mine very well. Check it out and let me know what you think. Also I'm considering starting a discussion board on here. Are there any recommendations on who I should go through or if there's some good opensource stuff out there?

The Toot.

     That's right! We're having a girl. And here I thought girls were cleaner than boys... Of course, if you're going to be made of sugar and spice, there is some inevitable fermenting that will happen.

The Cold.

     I would say that when I'm sick I turn into a little girl, but that would be an insult to little girls. I'm a total wuss. Now, my pregnant wife is packing stuff, taking care of me, and walking the dog. How is it that women are so stinking tough?
     I've noticed that my wife sees me at my most disgusting, smelly, grossness. All so I can make sure I look good for people that I don't love near as much as her! She's had to request I no longer breath on her before we meet people to see how bad my breathe is. Instead, I just carry gum around with me. And I won't hesitate to flip my head back and have her check to see if there are any bears in the cave. That's the thing though, isn't it? We love each other in spite of all the grossness. It's GREAT! On the other hand, I need to make sure my wife sees me at my best...at least some of the time. She shouldn't have to sort through all my sickness to see a few good things. But if we can't be disgusting in front of the people we love, who can we be gross in front of?

The Dream.

     Down the street from where I live there's a nice family.  They have a very productive lime tree in their front yard and they freely offer the fruits to anyone walking by.  There's also a little shoe box with a slot cut in the top and a sign taped to cardboard and attached to the back of the shoe box.  It says the little girl who lives there is trying to collect money for animals in shelters.  I'm not really sure about the details, but it says she's setting up a foundation for animals.  This started about four months ago, and now, the box is just laying on its side in front of the house, all wrinkled and water damaged.  I wonder if she checks it every day to see if some passersby put cash in.  Has she just forgotten about it or is she still hopeful every time she cracks the top of that box?  Is her dream of saving every animal everywhere just dying?  It's ironic because the animals the dream was supposed to save are dying as well.  Okay, maybe not ironic, but it is sad.  I guess that little box makes me wonder about my little girls dreams.  I know they won't all come true, but that doesn't mean they all have to die; either.  Any suggestions?  Short of using a plastic shoebox...

The House.

     So, we finally found a house...we think. It's less than half the size of the place we're living in now and the beginning stages of claustrophobia are setting in just thinking about fitting all our stuff into that place. This is coming from someone who, speaking pretty humbly, is a Tetris MASTER! I can fit an Asian elephant in the back seat of Mini, but this place makes me cringe. It's not that the rooms are small as much as the lack of nooks and crannies to hold once a year things, like Christmas decorations, or in-laws. Plus, there's no garage space. Not that I'd put family in there, but it's still nice to know there are options.
     In an earlier post I was saying the important thing was just getting a house. Now I'm wondering if this is the right house. Is this the right decision, the right time? Should we forgo the money from the government and wait, or should we get while the getting's good, make it work for now, and plan on moving out in a couple of years when the market goes back up? I just want to know this is the best choice, but I don't think it's something I can ever know for sure. I woke up last night around 1 AM and started watching a Psych marathon. It as if finally getting a house has created a whole new set of solution creating opportunities. We're up for it, and I'm sure it'll be worth it, and it's not like we're signing away our lives...but it kind of feels like that.

The Diagnostic.

     So, I was getting sick and tired of flipping through the pages in the back of the DSM-IV TR and I decided to make this little gizmo. It's pretty easy to use and it functions just like the differential diagnostic decision tree in the back of the book. I've taken this long to put it up because I wanted to test it out. It works fine for me, but please let me know right away if you find any mistakes. My email address is in a box on the left of your screen under "The Email.". Thanks for coming out and please leave a comment if you have any suggestions or questions.

The Haggle.

     Readers Digest has a nice little article about haggling over the price of a car. It actually got me thinking, when did everything become an option? When my mother use to ask if I'd do the dishes, she wasn't really asking! It was never a choice, she was just trying to be polite. Now, children everywhere have turned into little Monty Hall's with bad attitudes and no goats. And this isn't happening just in the juvenile hall where I teach, no, it's everywhere! Everything is about negotiating. Bedtime, bath time, tv time, are we going to have ice cream, can we buy a Porsche (that last one is actually one of mine...). A simple "No" doesn't cut it anymore. When did this happen? Who started it? I guess I don't mind negotiating some times, but it gets pretty tired, pretty quick. Of course, I could always buy one of those, "Win Every Argument, Every Time" books. Where they tell you to start with über higher expectations before the argument, then it doesn't matter as much when they whittle you down. So I should expect my daughter to be the first woman president, then when she becomes a CEO, I can act proud with a little bit of disappointment...right?

The Scare.

     For some reason, when I was little I lived to take years off my father's life, one scare at a time. I would hide in a closet, behind the over stuffed chair, or under a table for hours (read minutes as experienced by a kid with ADD) just so I could jump out and scare him. The only problem was, I would lay in wait, perfectly still, biding my time, until my dad would unwittingly stumble into my trap...then I would start giggling until my scare was about as surprising as getting junk mail. You know what he did though? He acted surprised. His acting wasn't all that convincing, but it worked on me. I felt like I really get the drop on my dad. It was cool! I think that's why I like Halloween so much. The Simpsons have their Tree House of Horror thing, SyFy (stupid name change, by the way) plays scary movies all month, and people get into a spirit I really dig. Any ideas on what Catie and I can dress up as? I was thinking we dress up real hillbilly like and tell everyone we're Brittney and K-Fed. Good?

The Steering.

     Went and saw "Couples Retreat" this weekend, HILARIOUS. Seriously, go and see it. As the credits are rolling they are on jet ski's, in pairs, screaming across these crystal blue bays and inlets. It's a great scene, and I couldn't help but think of the first concert I ever went to: Smashing Pumpkins. I know it doesn't make sense yet, but stay with me to the end.
     It was high school and three of us piled into a girls car and took off down the highway toward the Pumpkins and good 'ol Billy C. Getting to that amphitheatre was kinda like getting to Rome, most of the roads in that part of Kansas led there. Well, this turned out to be a problem. The girl who was driving didn't really know how to get there, so the directions she was getting from me and the other guy were different. While they were both correct individually, if you tried to take them together you'd never get anywhere. Then, as we're speeding toward a busy interchange on the highway, I'm telling her to stay in the lane she's in while Michael was telling her to exit. At this point, her brain just locked up and she, along with the car, came to a screeching halt in the middle of the highway. I don't know if you've ever driven on a highway before, but I wouldn't recommend going any less than 55, much less stopping. There was no pulling over, no slowing down, no warning lights, just immediate and panicked stopping. While Michael and I couldn't agree on how to get there, we did agree in a very loud and insistent voice that stopping in the middle of the highway with cars whizzing by at 75 was a bad idea. I'm sure it was only a few seconds, but it seemed like we sat there for about five full minutes before Michael reached over and pushed the gas on the driver's side, forcing the car forward, and forcing the driver to make a decision. No one died and we got to the concert without further incident, but that little experience has stuck in my brain.
     This is where the story ties back into jet ski's, relationships, and driving. Just like driving, only one person can be in charge at a time in a relationship. This doesn't mean it's the same person all the time in every situation, just that only one person can drive a car at a time. Now, the driver can get input from whoever's in the car, but too much input or conflicting advice can make it pretty hard to know where you're really going. I guess what I'm trying to say is we should be careful who we let in the car of our relationships. I mean, Catie and I do a pretty good job of switching off between navigator and captain, but we're getting ready to have a new passenger. Not only do we have to make sure we agree on where we're heading, but also how we're going to get there. Otherwise, we may end up at a crossroads, and if we're not careful our marriage can come to a screaming halt in the middle of a busy road and we may just get hit by the proverbial MAC truck of divorce.
     That's how it goes, doesn't it? Two people, in a relationship, each one going different directions? How long can that really last? I'm not even sure how long I would want it to last. Even worse than that is getting tied to the bumper and dragged along like that dog on Family Vacation. How are you going to put any input into the relationship without being in the car? You could reach your destination and not even realize it. What a terrible and bitter way to go through something. That has actually happened to one of my dear friends and I miss him terribly. But she's got her foot on the gas, staring straight ahead, with no concern for him because he's on the outside of the car.
     Please hear me when I say this: I do not think men should always steer. Lord know's we got lost just as easily as anyone else and some comedian's have built entire careers on how we won't ask for directions. But I don't think women should be in control all the time either. It should be a group decision with input all along the way. Well, I'm starting to preach now, and I apologize. Anyway, let me know what you think. See you tomorrow with the new post.

The THX.

     So, just ran across this and I think it's a brilliant idea. If your local movie theater doesn't have a "Crybaby Matinee" thing, it totally should. It's a great move and you should call your local theater if they don't do it.

The Bargaining.

     Sprint PCS is driving me crazy. Yes, it's a short drive, but still being driven there! I'm on my third phone with them and it's junk. I'm more inclined to blame Windows Mobile is a terrible OS and I should go with something else. Regardless, Catie & I spent about two hours talking about how we were going to handle this. Going to a different cell provider would cost a bunch of money because we'd still have to buy a new phone. And let's be honest, I would probably want an iPhone. The other option is to stay here, hopefully Sprint will take care of me and make this better, but who knows. I may have to pay some money to get a new phone, but why pay money and resign a contract to stay with a company that kinda blows chunks? There was a point in time, before we got pregnant it wouldn't have been an issue. I would've worked a few more hours, made a little extra money, and bought the new phone. But now we're looking around at what we can sell (the treadmill topped the list pretty quickly) to make the money we might need if we want to buy it. Instead we're talking about setting up college funds for someone that doesn't really exist yet...it's just weird, that's all.

The Schedule.

     Alright, I think I'm gonna try to go toward quality a little more than quantity. Putting something out every single day is getting taxing, especially now that school is starting. Plus, I'm gonna expand the content of this site a little bit more, not only about parenting, and relationships, but also guy stuff in general. Also, there's some psychology tools I'm going to design that I'll put online. That's not for the general world, but I need someplace to put it! So, let me know what you think, men.
     Free tip: Tell your lady five things you love about her some time today. You'll thank me later.

The Ruining.

     Isn't this one of those things that should go without saying? The fact humanity has to let other people know they're not supposed to leave their children on the curb says that something has gone horribly and tragically wrong. Kinda sets the bar pretty low for me, though...
     Imagine Catie walking home, setting down her bag, looking at me on the couch and saying, "Hey Honey, how'd it go with the baby today?"
"Good...good."
"Did you empty the diaper pale?"
"Nope..."
"What?!? The thing was overflowing this morning! Considering the fact that our daughter has some super human ability to turn two ounces of food into fourteen pounds of fertilizer the diaper pale should be well past critical mass. The only way you could have fit another diaper in there is if you figured out how to make a black hole and put it at the bottom of the can. As we are still clearly here and not pulled into some infinitely small point of singularity, I can assume this has not happened...would you care to explain?"
"Didn't change any diapers...."
     The T.V. was probably still on up until this point. This is when Catie would lean over, turn off ESPN, and look deeply into my eyes and ask, "What do you mean you didn't change any diapers?"
"I mean I didn't change any diapers."
"You mean to tell me she's still in the same diaper I put her in this morning??"
"Yup."
"What is wrong with you?!?"
     Now I calmly look up at Catie and lay down the ultimate, one time use, gold plated, massive excuse:"Maybe I didn't change her, and I may have wrapped the tops and bottom of her diaper with duct tape to keep the poo in, but you know what I else I didn't do? I didn't leave our baby on some random doorstep..."

     Alright, so that probably wouldn't work, but it should help with the big picture parenting thing. I mean, taking your kid home from the hospital seems like a big step. Everything after that is gravy. I mean, parents can (real "will") make mistakes. There's nothing else to do but stick it out. That's what parenting is all about.

The Conscience.

     When I was a boy my father told me a story I'll never forget. He said it was a Native American tale, but I haven't found anything to back that up. Regardless, there's something about it that has stuck with me for more than twenty years and I wanted to pass it along.
     I don't remember what I had done, but it was wrong. The real issue, the thing that scare my father the most, was that instead of feeling guilty for what I had done I was spending more time and energy trying to rationalize my behavior. He sat me down and told me that some people believed that when you're born, you're born with a square next to heart. In the middle of that square is a pin holding the heart in place and allowing it to spin. Then, when you do something wrong, the square makes a quarter turn. Sometimes, we even feel the tip of that square cut into our hearts as real pain. This reminds us of the hurt we caused in others and motivates us to seek healing for them, and our selves.
     However, if the square spins too often in too short a period of time, our hearts can grow calloused. When this happens, even though the square continues to turn, we do not feel it. This is dangerous, but can be fixed with time. If we go long enough without injuring someone else or, and this is what saves us most often, if a good friend comes to us and tells us we should be feeling our square, but we aren't, then we can allow our hearts to soften and we can allow ourselves to return to the way our hearts once were.
     But, if we have no good friends to talk to us when our hearts become calloused, then it is possible the square will continue to turn without us feeling it. If this happens too long, it wears the corners of the square down until they are rounded off. At this point nothing can be done. The healing words of friends will sound like poison, the helpful hands of family will look like fists, and the tears of those we hurt will look like weakness. After a time, the calloused heart that has worn away the edges of the square will heal; the callouses will fall away revealing a tender and vulnerable heart. The tragedy is there is no way to reach it. Nothing can touch that heart, neither pain nor joy, love nor fear, hope nor faith. This is the unforgiveable sin.
     I know this isn't my usual light hearted post but it's been on my mind and I wanted to put it out there. By the way, when my dad told me this story he actually used a piece of paper and tore the corners off the square. It really made an impact and probably prevented me from turning into an antisocial personality.

The Dilatory.

     I'm not saying I'm supremely lazy, but it's close. This morning, as I was walking to my car, I reached my left hand to the handle and with my right hand I clicked the little button on my key that unlocked the door. My left hand was already there. There was no good reason I couldn't have unlocked it with the key. Apparently making a twisty motion with my right hand was just too much to ask at seven a.m. Maybe it's habit, maybe I really am lazy, but either way, there is a certain part of me that just absolutely doesn't want to work any harder than possible. Before you judge, realize you're probably very similar. I mean, how many of you have memorized keyboard shortcuts on your compy just so you don't have to "move the mouse so far..." Or, better yet, gone ahead and created your own custom shortcuts in order "save time"? Save time? Really? We're talking milliseconds here, people. You weren't going to do anything with them anyway.
     I guess a similar thing is happening while preparing for the new baby. Everything I look at is supposed to multitask, or transform into a billion other things. Just the idea of buying a car seat all by itself, that doesn't go with a stroller, and a rocker, and an airbag option seems ludicrous. Maybe I'm just being lazy, but I'd like to think I'm trying to prepare as best as possible as well. That maybe if I have the right stuff now it'll make parenting easier later. But I doubt it. It'll probably come down to Catie and I just trying to not screw it up. I keep reading in my psych courses about how to make a personality disorder. It's pretty easy, just start out with a predisposition and then throw in lousy parenting to trigger the inner coo-coo. And there ya have it; antisocial personality disorder. I doubt having the right car seat or changing table or crib/playpen/whosie-whats-it doesn't create a Ted Bundy. But you never know....

The End.

     You know what's unfortunate? According to the Mayans, the world is supposed to end in 2012. My daughter is going to be about three years old. That just doesn't seem fair. I mean, here she is, just getting started, really getting the whole walking thing down smoothly, and BAM, end of world. Three years old! "Hey, you going to be starting preschool this year?"
"Nope, planet is going to implode."
"Oh yeah, I forgot all about that! I was going to put it in my calendar but that year didn't seem to be there...kinda like the thirteenth floor of a lot of office buildings."
"Well, if the planet doesn't blow up, we're in trouble because I haven't even started the enrollment process..."
"I hear ya! Those things are murder. Tell you the truth, I'd rather experience apocalypse than have to sit in those asinine registration lines and plead my case for a kid that can't even read A Tale of Two Cities yet..."
"Right, right..."
     Like I was saying, end of days sounds like it's going to be harsh. I mean, as long as books and movies are any indication of what to expect, I should be okay. Usually the mother ends up dying, I live on with my daughter, and we find some ruggedly beautiful woman to start over with...even though she can never really replace my "other" wife. Regardless, I guess I'm going to have to raise my kid as if the end of the world isn't right around the corner. Who knows, maybe she'll be the key to resetting the whole thing. Like, she'll accidentally turn the the calendar upside down and now we've got until 2102. Hey, it could happen...

The Nonoption.

     The other morning Catie woke up with a start. She was really upset about something, but I couldn't tell what. Turns out that for the first time the anticipation of the pain of childbirth had just dawned on her. I was at a loss. Unfortunately, before my brain could catch up to my mouth I said, "Well, it's not like you have a choice." Apparently that wasn't as comforting as I had hoped. So, I tried to reinforce the comfort level with, "Besides, people have been doing this since...well, since people have been around." She responded with, "Yeah, but people die doing this." Me: "Well, that doesn't happen as much lately..."
     How am I supposed to comfort her when there is an actual danger? Her mom was in full on labor for two days. As much as I don't like the idea of using pitocin, two days is a little long to go without labor pains coming to fruition. They told Catie's mom to drive over railroad tracks and eat spicy food. Whatever works, I guess. But still, I have no way to comfort her, to provide certainty, to tell her that it's going to be okay when I actually don't know it will be. I can hope, and I can try to help, but really my work here is done. I was just around for the good bits, she's doing all the work. I just hope she knows that I'll do anything I actually can to help. Whatever that might be.

The News.

     Have you guys watched Fox News lately? As near as I can figure, they're only producing fodder for the Daily Show. Seriously. What is with these people? Every once in awhile CNN will hit it wrong and completely contradict themselves withing twenty-four hours, but Fox, what are you doing? Now that I think about it, if Fox News had been around when I was a kid, I would've been able to watch more cartoons.
     I remember my dad walking into the room on Saturday mornings, grabbing the remote, and flipping to news. He would tell me that important things are happening in the world and I would never know what they were if I sat around watching cartoons. Don't think my dad was all mean though; I was 17 the last time he did that...so it wasn't like he was picking on a little kid. Still, had we gotten Fox News back then it probably wouldn't have happened at all. He would have walked in, sat down, and asked me to turn up the cartoons because Japanimation is the best thing happening. I would rather sit around all day trying to find out if there was ever a time when the old guy dressed up a ghost actually did get away with it, in spite of those "darn kids" than watch twelve seconds of Glenn Beck blubber on while his chins wag in silent discontent. It's just asinine gibberish and I can't believe they have a following.
     And yes, I realize this isn't about my daughter, but not everything's about her...is it?

The Capitulation.

     Capitulation is one of my favorite words. I learned it off those refrigerator magnet words at one of my friend's house. Capitulation is a surrender without terms. It means you give up so entirely, that the enemy can do whatever they want with you. It's kinda scary when you think about it. Surrendering with no plan of recourse is pretty final. Even asking to be thrown on the mercy of someone else is still making a request. There is no request in capitulation, there is no room to make your own desires heard. Sounds terrible, doesn't it? To be so completely powerless...
Welcome to parenting.
     Catie and I weren't planning on having a kid. Now that she's on her way I wouldn't change a single thing. I am throwing myself into being a dad head first. No requests, my own desires are taking back seats, and my pride is becoming a dusty memory somewhere behind one of the couches. It sounds terrible, but it's not! It is scary and I'm not sure what's going to happen, but my life as a guy with no kids is over. I have raised the white flag and I couldn't be happier.

The Best.

     Have you ever known someone who absolutely had to have "THE BEST" of everything? THE best television, the best dvd player, the best hand soap. I'm not kidding, I personally know a couple that claim everything they buy is "the best". It gets really old really quick. By saying I have the best of something, I'm implying you don't. I'm also assuming you care that I have the best. Chances are, you probably don't care at all.
     While you probably know someone like this, they're going to come out of the woodwork when you're going to have a kid. I've been inundated with, "You absolutely have to have this kind of bottle", or "You must get this type of book", or "Blah blah blah, must have yakkety yak yak". I mean, realistically, that's all I'm hearing at this point. Thanks for the advice, but I'm don't think I'm that guy. I don't need THE BEST. I need the functional. Whatever will do what it's supposed to do is great. I don't need to pay a bazillion dollars for a bottle that's made out of gold. I just want one that will get the liquid into the baby's mouth. That's it. As a matter of fact, I hope we don't have the best of everything. I want my daughter to be able to make do with mediocre. She needs to know that "the best" should be expected of her, but not by her. Does that make sense? I expect her to do her best, but she shouldn't expect to have the best of everything. So the next time someone tells you about "THE BEST" thing, say thanks, and let it go in one ear and out the other.