Pastels, the way of the future...

So we are working on our house, making such improvements as laying new tile, lighting, and paint in one of our two bathrooms; new tile in the kitchen; and new paint in all of our bedrooms.

I have finished painting Claire's room (and, NO, I am not laying any of the tile!). It looks like some one popped a bubble gum bubble in her room and walked away. BRIGHT FREAKING PINK!!! That's ok though. I can handle it. Audrey's room will be bright yellow and our room will be "dark". Yeah tax deductions!!!

Because, Diddy, its different, that's why!...

Ah, Christmas. A time when our thoughts turn to things more important than ourselves; charities, our friends and family, and, of course, finding the IT present for our kids. At our house, Audrey writes a letter to Santa (its a form letter and all she has to do is put the things she wants on the prefab list, but that's not important). This year, one of her most precious desires is some sort of nail salon toy that she simply MUST have. Here's the kicker: she already has a nail salon! It was gift from one of her aunts for her last birthday. She's played with it twice in the last six months.

So, after "proof-reading" her letter, I point out that she has a nail salon, so lets not ask for another. She replies thusly: "But Diddy, I need a new nail salon". I ask why, since she doesn't play with the one she has. She replied, "Because, Diddy, the new nail salon will be different, that's why"! Who can argue with that kind of logic?

Author's note:
This post originally contained a note regarding Audrey's original nail salon, which I was to learn later was hurtful and offensive. I wish to publicly apologize to the parties in question and vow that the same mistake will not be made again on this blog.
Rick

GAS, The Great Equalizer...

Saturday evening, Jen allowed me a rare evening alone with Claire. I was excited because the only time during the day that I get to be THE person taking care of her is way late at night while everyone, including me, is sleeping.

So as I was watching Claire go back and forth in the swing, I was talking to her in that idiotic way that all adults seem to talk to babies in. You know the one, "Aw! Isn't she just da tweetest wittle ting you ewer did see? She such a pwetty wittle BABY." There's nothing like a baby to make otherwise intelligent adults complete babbling morons.

Anyway, I'm talking at Claire like this and she looks up and her face completely changes. Her eyes light up. Her face starts to glow. And...there it is, she SMILES at me! Now, she's been smiling at Jen for about two weeks now. I'm not jealous because she spends a lot more quality time (i.e. nursing) with Jen than me. So, it's only natural that Jen will get those moments first. HOWEVER, this one was for me. I was so happy. I told her in no uncertain terms that I loved her with all my heart.

Then she farted, made the same smiley face, and went to sleep. Oh the delicious irony!

Open chest, insert knife, turn slowly...

Audrey and I were in line at Wendy's, getting a delicious, nutritious dinner this evening when I asked her this question: "Are you going to try a cheeseburger tonight?". Audrey immediately replied, "NO! I don't like that!" Now I know for a fact that Audrey has never tried a cheeseburger, so I asked if she had. She told me that she hadn't, but that she still didn't like them. I then told her that I didn't like Owen in her first-grade class, even though I idn't know him. I was expecting her to say that I didn't know Owen so why don't I like him, but was floored by the following statement:
"I have Owen's phone number. He gave it to me and I'm going to call him."
I told her that Owen is a boy and that boys are icky. She informed me that she was going to call him anyway because he is cute.
Don't you just love it when reverse psychology kicks you in the ass? Now all I have to do is hide all the phones.

...but Diddy, I'm scared...

One day when I was seven, my step-dad and I were on the roof of our house, working on the swamp-cooler. As we were getting down I had a moment of fear and said, "Bobby, I'm scared." The ensuing life-lesson I got was sufficient enough for me to believe that everyone should think about fear the same way as my step-dad; "There's only three things you need to be afraid of: God, the Devil, and dying. Now jump!". To this day, I still have a momentary flash of "Oh shit, I'm going to die!" when getting off of a roof.
Flash forward 31 years to yesterday. Audrey and I were playing with a toy that Jen had purchased as a prize for a Thanksgiving Bingo game (this was for the entertainment of the kids while at my in-laws house, we'll talk more about that during a different post). While I was showing Audrey how to shoot foam rockets off of her finger, she said, "But Diddy, I'm scared. It might hurt me". ...AND FREEZE TIME... I think back to my childhood and wonder what my dad would do ...UNFREEZE TIME... I was wondering what the hell there is to be scared of. Its a foam rocket, with a rubber band launcher. So I threw the rocket at Audrey's chest in an attempt to show her that it won't hurt, to whit she replied "OW, THAT HURTS!! STOP IT!!" ...AND FREEZE TIME... Apparently my dad's "sage" counsel of there's nothing you need to be afraid, EVER wasn't quite what Audrey needed at this particular moment ...UNFREEZE TIME... So, having failed to show Audrey that the rocket "can't" hurt her, I take the extra time needed to show her exactly how to shoot the rocket across the room. Hilarity ensues.
All is now right in the universe. However, a bewildered dad is left to wonder just what kind of emotional scars he has just inflicted on his 6 year old daughter.

Diddy...??????

Yes?
When will I be popular?

Well, CRAP. This was the last question I ever wanted to hear from Audrey.
First off, I was not part of the popular crowd. EVER! That was mostly by choice. I had a deep seated loathing of the kids who "fit in" or were "cool". Part of that was the non-conformist in me. Another part was that I had a brain, and didn't need a clique to help me think. So the last thing I wanted was a daughter who wants to be just like "them". Now, I mean no offense to those of you who were in the popular crowd. It just wasn't for me.
Secondly, WHEN THE HELL DID FIRST GRADERS START WORRYING ABOUT BEING POPULAR??????? Sweet Mother McCree! The next thing I know Audrey will want a damn car. Or she'll want a cell phone. Or a computer and a Facebook account. What happened to a kid being a kid?
HOORAY 21st CENTURY!! Where everyone has to be grown up by the time they're potty trained! YEAH!

High School Musical 3, Senior Year...Now in Theatres

That's all I have been hearing about since that movie opened!!! So, I finally relented and took Audrey to see it. It was everything we've come to expect in the HSM family; shallow plot, cheesy acting, campy songs. In short, everything a 6 year old girl could hope for in a movie, and everything a 38 year old dad dreads in a movie. At first, I was into it for Audrey's sake. However, as the movie rolled along, I found myself reflecting back on MY senior year (but that's for a different time).
So there's Audrey, dancing in the row to each song, just having a bloody great time. So there's dad, wishing like mad that Zac Efron would just hurry the hell up and graduate already.
Take your daughters to see this movie, if for no other reason than to see them dance in rows.

Just a little understanding, please

You know, the girl in my family that I "get" the least is my wife. We've been together now for over 10 years and the more we go down the road of life, the more often I look at her and say to myself, "What?".
As an example, Claire has recently graced us with her presence. There have been several times in the past 3 weeks where I have tried to help out with her in the middle of the night, only to be told that I need to sleep because I have to go to work. Then I get a barrage of "I'm so tired" remarks for the next two days. I try to tell her (stupidly, I might add) that I offered to be up with Claire, but I am again met with the "but you have to work" line.
You'd think I'd have a clue what this all meant after 10 years. Sadly, 'tis not the case.

Once more, dear friends

I'm still trying to figure out my wife of 9 years and my 6 year old daughter. Now I have a 2 week old daughter, which means I'm in the deep end of the estrogen pool. There are times when I don't know if Im up to the task, but we'll find out together.