No Nap Make Papa go *mumble mumble mumble

Grandma D and Grandpa R are great grandparents to the boy. They love the dickens out of him and really shower him with praise and adoration. The problem is that due to their health they are becoming less and less reliable as primary childcare providers. The way Wifey and I figure it, when Little Man was an infant, a baby, and a toddler he helped Grandma D and Grandpa R (both in late 60’s and D who has Lupus while R has some yet to be diagnosed auto-immune issues) by re-invigorating them. When Little Man transitioned from toddler to Little Boy (not that long ago) the re-invigoration seemed to deteriorate into wearing them down. They just cannot keep up with the active 3.45 yr old. So this erosion of their energy coupled with their auto-immune respective deficiencies and their typically worst season (Winter) has made Wifey and I come to the decision of finding another permanent childcare set-up. We don’t know what that situation will eventually look like, but the one we have set-up currently just is not working. So, until we get a more permanent childcare situation determined, I will be home on Wednesdays. This is both good and bad.

The Good:

• I get a day with Little Man in the middle of the week to recharge my “reason for working” batteries.
• I get to lounge around with the boy and stay in my sleeping clothes until well after noon.
• I get to bond with Little Man more
• I saves us from having to ask friends to watch the little bugger in the interim for a full day (we only need them to cover Tuesday and Thursday afternoons)

The Bad:

• It seems his nap is a thing of the past. He is now “just resting” (his words not mine). He is tired and should nap, but has decide that he won’t fall asleep and is therefore “just resting.” Occasionally we can con him into actually falling asleep by getting him to “just rest” his eyelids, because, you know, they are tired and need rest too, but for the most part is seems the nap is a part of history now.
• It seems my nap on Papa Days is now a thing of the past as well. I dig naps, and it just ain’t happening. That makes me sad, a little tired and bit cranky. Much like a toddler without a nap.
• I require **adult conversation (not that kind people, get your collective heads out of the gutter) throughout the day to stay moderately sane
• Little Man is not so good at the adult conversation
  

To recap:
I will have to evaluate whether or not I should change my posting schedule to Monday Tuesday, Thursday and Friday
Any thoughts on that?
This whole childcare conundrum is a rough one
But it is a problem that has to be solved…
And soon
Anyone know of independent childcare providers in the Clintonville area looking for a Tuesday afternoon, Wednesday, and Thursday afternoon childcare gig
Oh, yes, for a child with severe food allergies, animal allergies, and some pretty bad asthma?
Anyone?Anyone?
Are those crickets I hear in the background?
Hellooooo?

*translates directly as "Bat-shit crazy"
**okay "Geeky Conversation"

'hic'

I learned something valuable last night about Little Man.

Let me set the stage. It is around 6:25 PM and Little Man has just gotten his first plate of orange rice. He is happy as a clam and just scarfing the rice based casserole down. He is nearly finished with his plate when he abruptly just stops eating. This is quite unlike him. When orange rice is around, the Little Man transforms from his usual happy go-lucky self into a ravenous eating machine. A machine with no soul and only one reason for existing: the mass consumption of orange rice. He basically becomes the equivalent of one of the zombies from the B-movie zombie flicks that have an itch that only the brains of the living can scratch. Replace brains of the living with orange rice, and you have what Little Man becomes when there is Orange rice around. Anyway, he just stopped eating the orange rice, and I couldn’t figure out why until ‘hic’ he hiccoughed.

What’s the matter, big guy? I inquire.
I got ‘hic’ the hiccups. He sullenly replies
Oh, you got the hiccumupups? I ask empathetically
Yea, I got the hic ’hic’ cups. He responds
You don’t want the hiccups do you? I question.
No, I Don’t want hiccups. ‘hic’ He morosely continues

BOO-GET-TY!!!

Little Man jumped about 3 feet (close to his height) and looked at me with a big fat smile on his face.

NO! Papa! Don’t Do That! ‘hic’

What I learned: Little Man’s hiccoughs don’t go away when he gets startled.

To recap:
They went away when he drank something
It was rum
I kid, I kid, it was just whiskey
Would you believe a beer?
Just root-beer?
It was Berry Juicy Juice in a glass through a light green wacky straw
No really
Looks like Wifey might be going to Belgium for a conference
I don’t get to go to Belgium for conferences
Last conference I went to was in Columbus
And, I live in Columbus
Happy B-Day ACW

My Itenerary

So, as a magical interlude to my work filled day, I met Wifey and Little Man for lunch today at the Benevolent Regent of Ground Beef (Burger King). It is always nice to see the fam in the middle of a work day. It is always bittersweet though

Midday lunches with the fam remind me of why I have to work. The family needs shelter and heat and whatnot, and my employment allows for those provisions. It galvanizes me to be a productive member of society and provide for my family. I know that for my child to be successful in life, by whatever definition Wifey and I determine for his youth and by whatever definition he edits ours into for his adulthood, the basics of survival are absolute necessities. I help to provide him with shelter, food, and clothing. Without those essentials, his survival is suspect. Coupled with those basic essentials, Little Man has some other requirements. These entail his medications and, sadly, his train addiction. For him to thrive in any environment now, he requires both intensive asthma medication and extensive wooden train track with long freight trains. My working helps to provide him with his primary essentials as well as his secondary essentials and any other creature comforts to which he has become acclimated.

Midday lunches with the fam also remind me of why I don’t want to work. Hanging out with them is entirely more fun than working. I would much rather play “remote control” with Little Man than work on joining together vectors to create a nice EOP polygon for some public involvement piece for a meeting in Cleveland sometime in late January. The process of joining together arcs and vertices is waaaay more tedious than turning Little Man upside down and tickling his belly. Seeing the little one and Wifey remind me of how much fun my family is. Lunch today was all smiles and giggling. Going home with them would extend that period of fun and giggles. Ah, but these three paragraphs are simply a set up for the reason for this post. This is merely the action sequence at the beginning of MacGyver episode, the action scene that shows Mac finishing up a previous mission. The beginning of a show that illustrates Mac’s kick assitude, but is not wholly germane to the episode’s plot itself. It is the scene that gets you ready for the actual episode to follow.

Upon leaving the fast food establishment of choice for Little Man, the joyful 3.42 year old informed me of what the rest of my day was to be like while I was buckling him up in his carseat.

Papa, come home in Papa’s car?
No, I have to go back to work.
Papa go back to work and take a nap?
No, Papa has to go back and work at work.
No! Papa go back to work and take nap. After nap, Papa send 5 emails and watch trains on computer.
Is that what I am going to do today?
Yes, nap. Then 5 emails. Then watch trains on computer.

It turns out that was to go back to work and take a nap. When I get up from said nap, I am to send 5 emails and then watch trains on Youtube. If only.

To recap:
MacGyver would have kicked everyone’s ass if he had a Leatherman or any subsequent multi-use tool
Good Lord, he did WHAT!?!?! with a Swiss Army Knife…what could that man have done with pliers?
Had a visitor to the house last night

That’s right, Fluffy the Headache Pine Marten
An unwelcome visitor
It has been a while since he visited last
I need to set my head down on my desk and take a nap
Per the instructions of my child
I cannot disappoint him, can I?

He sang, He clapped, He dug

Yesterday I lost most of a day’s work due to files spontaneously corrupting for no good reason. Stupid files! So I had to come into work stupid early to finish what I lost yesterday. “Why did you have to come in early?” you ask. Well, good reader, Little Man’s Christmas Program at his pre-school was today, but I still needed to get the work that I should have finished yesterday done. So early is when I needed to be here. I got it done before 8:30 this morning when I had to leave for Little Man’s La Fête du Noël. So at least I have that going for me.

Anyway, the program was really nice. They sang 2 songs, had a story, sang 2 songs, had a story, and finished up with 2 more songs. Little Man sang some of the songs, but really enjoyed the clapping when songs were finished. More on clapping later.

After the program, the classes adjourned to their respective classrooms for cookies and juice. Whilst partaking of cookies and juice, Santa showed up sans reindeer to hand out gifts to each of the kids.

It was a pretty good Santa. He was really gentle with the kids, and was in a pretty good costume, and the mustache seemed like it could have almost been real. When it was Little Man’s turn on the Jolly Old Elf’s lap, he excitedly explained to Old Saint Nick how he was going to deliver “Train Track! And Diesel Engines” Little Man almost started to rattle off the various type of diesel engines he needed Père Noël to deliver, but lost interest when he was handed his gift from the good Mr. Kringle.

After that we all (Wifey, me, Mimma, Grandma D, and Grandpa R) had to go our separate ways. Little Man, Grandma D and Grandpa R went to their house for the rest of the day, Mim went back to work, and Wifey and I went to Bob Evans for a nice leisurely brunch. I had an omelet. That was the morning of the Christmas Program.

Now to the highlight of the entire show. Wifey and I wish there were more clapping and hand movements associated with Christmas Program 06 because Little Man has a penchant for picking his nose. He has the “nasal itch,” if you will. After the first 2 songs and the story he pretty much got bored, and when the little one is bored, he is digging for gold. Sinus grooming is a baseline activity for the boy. No matter how much we try to remove his digits from his rhinal passages, they inevitably end up probing his proboscis.

We are soo proud. He really was just digging with wild abandon.


To Recap:
Yeah, I think I might have gotten carried away with synonyms for this post
Oh, well
The nose picking isn’t so bad…
I just wish he didn’t wipe his hands on the pulpit
Ummm.. Probably should not have mentioned that
When we get the Christmas Cards out I will post the pic here
Cracks me up everytime I see it
I am feeling fat and lazy
I have got to get back to the gym
Overheard from another parent at the Christmas Program: How did he get it untucked in 30 seconds.
Ummm... he did have a whole 30 seconds
Have a great weekend

Mama! Papa!

Monday night after all the stories and all the good night kisses, after turning on the fan and “Monkey, ” after making sure Little Man has leopard (his lovey), after Wifey and I have left the room so that Little Man can go to sleep, I hear “Mama… Papa… Come here.” I ignore it because, well I am killing Defias Highwaymen and harvest reapers in Westfall trying to get my hunter up to 20 so I can dual wield… ummm… I just went into a bit more detail than I should have about my WoW addiction, didn’t I? Let’s try again.

I ignore it because I am playing my online game and really, he has already had kisses, he has leopard, and Jack Johnson is serenading him already. Yep, that was much better. My toon is a little over halfway to level 20, and if I just grind out the exp for a bit I can hit level 20 in about 30 minutes. I probably just crossed the “Too Much Info” line again, didn’t I?

Little Man’s cries for attention get more insistent. “Mama! Papa! Come here!” Wifey is down stairs reading. Each of us have our own way of stress relief. Wifey’s typically involves a historical fiction book and tuning me out, and mine revolves around (as we refer to it in the house) The Game. So Wifey is absorbed in her book (she gets on to me for not being able to have a conversation with her while the TV is on, but sometimes when she is ready something she really likes, I have to physically touch her to get her attention. It is cute.) and I am ignoring Little Man’s more insistent cries for attention. Mama! Papa! COME here!

Anyway… I am about to level up when Little Man really turns on the volume. He starts shouting MAMA! PAPA! COME HERE! NOW! WHY WON’T MAMA, PAPA, COME HERE NOW?!?! MAMA, PAPA, MAMA, PAPA, COME HERE NOW! I finally hit the goal of 20 and start the process of shutting down The Game, when Little Man starts really laying into it. MAMA! PAPA! MAMA! PAPA! COME HERE NOW! with the implicit meaning of If mama and papa don’t come here right now he will die the death only brought about by rabid wolves or snakes. Ah, the joys of parenthood. Before I head downstairs, and to quell the insistent rugrat, I go in and see what he is yelling about.

What is going on Little Man?
Come here NOW!
What’s the matter?
Goodnight, Papa.
What?! You just wanted me to come in here so you can say ‘goodnight’ again?
Good. Night. I start to leave…
Kisses! I kiss him on the forehead and start to leave...
Leopard kisses! I kiss leopard on the forehead and… I’m think I am actually going to make it out of the door this time
Good. Night.
Goodnight to you too, you insufferable little scamp. And with that I am finally allowed to go downstairs to help get his bags ready for pre-school.

On a side note I also just posted this on the Drawing Board. It feels good to get my drawing chops back up to speed. They aren’t where they were in college, but what about me is?

To recap:
My hand cramped whilst drawing Mr Freeze
My right shoulder is really starting to hurt I don’t know why
Often Little Man wants us to bring him some water in a paper cup
He is a demanding little cuss
My public gets nasty, uh, I mean antsy when I wait to post until after 2pm
Shut it, coworkers!
I am slowly coming up with Christmas gifts – not good ones, but gifts
Zane’s preschool Christmas program is tomorrow.
He’s supposed to sing “Jingle Bells” and “Rudolph”
Chances of him actually singing are slim to none
Maybe in the car on Saturday we might get some Jingle Bells
He will be wearing a button down and khakis
Oh, there will be many a picture taken

Ride, Ride

Our house is a crazy roller coaster ride of apprehension during the months of October, November, December, January, February, April, and early March due to Little Man’s asthma.
Let me take you though a, sadly, typical weekend illness.

We will start the weekend illness on Thursday night. Around 11:30 Little Man sat up in bed and promptly voided his stomach. His belly made a groaning noise that awoke the slumbering Wifey from the dead of sleep she was enjoying. “It sounded like the gates of Hell were opening to unless the fury of a pent up devil.” –Wifey. The bed was now the recipient of 1 half bowl of tomato soup, at least 1 juice box, 5 chicky fingers, and some snacks. He had gotten the annoying virus that has been going around Central Ohio like wildfire. He continued voiding his gut periodically until noon on Friday. Then the magic of Sprite kicked in and settled his disagreeable tummy.

This was the first major hill of the roller coaster. The one where you are attached to the chain and feel the coaster slowly climbing the hill to start up the wild ride.

In Little Man’s words “Tummy feels better with Sprite!” - Little Man The little one was running around and enjoying himself all day Saturday and Sunday morning. Sunday afternoon {cough}. I’m sorry, what was that? {Cough!} Oh goody!

Looks like the coaster is about to go through that annoying part where your cork-screw around just before the loops. Now, He sounded a little ‘creaky’ on Sunday morning, so we gave him a full aerosol breathing treatment and that seemed to clear things right up. He is good and responsive to the treatment, that is a big positive in our world, but {cough, cough, cough} by Sunday evening, he needed another treatment. After his bath and during his bed-time ritual, he needed {cough, cough, cough, cough, cough} another breathing treatment. While I am in the queue to log on to the Shadow Council server for World of Warcraft (367 people want to log in at 9 pm EST on a Sunday night? WTF!?!? Don’t get me wrong, I am not an RP fairy, but just don’t like the asshats and asshattery associated with PVE and PVP realms) he needs another one. It {cough} has {cough, cough} only {cough, cough, cough} been about {cough, cough} 90 minutes {cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough}. Here come the coasters loops. You know the ones. They tend to make even the most hardened coaster buffs a bit queasy at the thought of them, and tend to cause your head to hit most of the safety restraining equipment associated with the coaster. Yeah, those loops… and there are 4 of them coming.

Last night, I gave {cough, Cough, COUGH, COUGH!!!}him another { COUGH, COUGH, COUGH, COUGH, COUGH, COUGH, BARK, BARK, BARK, COUGH, COUGH} (Whoa, did he just bark?) breathing treatment {COUGH, COUGH, COUGH}and his coughing got worse {COUGH, COUGH, COUGH, COUGH, BARK, BARK, BARK, COUGH, COUGH!!!}. {cough, cough} He did not {cough} stop {cough} coughing until {cough} around 11:30. We were gearing up for a trip to the ER, when all of a sudden, he just kind of stops… (by “just kind of stops” I mean he is sleeping while sitting up against me [to start with, Wifey took my place after about 20 minutes sop I could get ready for bed. She was in that position for much longer than me.] we think it was due to rapid succession of treatments coupled with a vertical positioning.)Sure he stops coughing, but Wifey and I are primed to fight this for the long haul. "I really though this bout would end up with us in the ER. I mean, his cough had developed a 'barking' quality." - SRH He doesn’t cough again until 7:30 this morning. I am not sure where in the hell on the roller coaster we are at the moment. It seems too good to be true that we are doing the tiny hills and turns that are used to decelerate so the ride can stop. I think more likely we are at one of the boring sections on the top of the coaster that have a sharp decline come out of nowhere.

To recap:
I hate roller coasters
That, and I am tired
I have gotten my hunter up to 19.5
I hope he is 20 by the time I go to bed tonight
Little Man coughs a bunch
Spaghetti for dinner
20 Questions Tuesday will be a continuation of the Christmas theme from last week
I think Little Man will not want tomato soup again
Thursday was the first time he had tried it as a soup and not just an ingredient in Orange Rice
I have a conference call I have to be in on at 9 am tomorrow
Not sure why I told everyone that, but it is true
So far it is the only thing on my schedule for the week

Whose Child is This?

Oftentimes Wifey laments how much Little Man is like me, SRH and not like her, Zany Mama. She goes on and on and on to anyone who will listen about how much our kid looks like me. She will wax eloquent about how laid back Little Man is about his interactions with peers, à la me. She will talk to total strangers about how she seemed to be left out of Little Man’s genetic soup other than the asthma and his eyes. She will shake her head in consternation and raise her fist in frustration when he and I get enthralled in TV shows (different shows… ummm... typically. Sometimes I really want to Know how Paz is going to fix the model he broke, okay?!?! Lay off!).

But this picture seems to tell a different tale.

Wifey is looking through the Garnet Hill catalogue while Little Man is perusing the Thomas the Tank Engine Catalogue

As does this one.

Wifey is reading a book while Little Man is perusing the Thomas the Tank Engine Catalogue… yet again

Wifey, I think the little one is more like you than you care to admit.

To Recap:
Wifey has stated some feelings about the whole speech/hearing issues that Little Man is dealing with much better than I can
If Little Man makes it through today, it will have been 5 days peeing accident free
I hope this is a trend
Tomorrow is 20 Questions Tuesday: The Christmas Edition
We love looking through the Garnet Hill catalogue
We cannot afford anything in the Garnet Hill catalogue
We have purchased enough from the Thomas the Tank Engine catalogue
Sorry about posting so late, but it has been a bit demanding for me at work today

20 Questions Tuesday: 19 - Little Man

So to round out the 20 Questions Tuesdays about my family, today we will focus on Little Man. I would like to thank Zinger Zapper, Nadolny, Dustin, Belsum, the Em, and Peefer for their thoughtful and tasteful questions regarding Little Man.

Here come the questions:


1. If you could choose an obsession for Zane, other than trains, what would it be?
Mopping or some other cleaning activity

2. If Zane lost his allergy to one particular food group what would you prefer it be?
I think I would like him to loose the peanut allergy. That one is the one that would most likely result in a really bad anaphylactic reaction and/or death. That one scares the absolute beee-jeeezus out of us.

3. What things is little man actually allergic too? We hear there are a variety, but what specifically?
Okay, I will list out the ones he is allergic to currently and the ones he used to be allergic to.
Current: Dairy, Eggs, Tree Nuts, Peanuts, and pet type animals
Past: Soy, Tomato, Potato, Green Beans, Peas, and Carrots
Those are the ones I remember, I am sure that Wifey can add to list, and I encourage her to do so in the comments section.

4. How is he on bath nights? Our little one isn't too keen on water over her head and raises a fuss.
Actually he has a bath every night. It is part of his evening ritual: The slaughter of the Chickens (Chicky Fingers), the prayer to the Craven Images (trains on YouTube), the ritual cleansing (bath time), the reading of the scriptures (books before bed), the polishing of the fangs (tooth brushing), the recitations (stories before sleep), and the all encompassing battle of will (allowing himself to go to sleep)

5. What are his favorite three toys?
Currently in order, Amtrak F-40 Deisel Engine, CSX Deisel Engine, and Santa Fe Deisel Engine.

6. What is his favorite ethnic food?
I would have to say his love for Lentil Soup. But keep in mind what one group considers to be “ethnic food” another group just considers “food.” In China his favorite ethnic food is fat back green beans.

7. Does he like tater tots?
He does indeed, but he tends to like Crispy Crowns more. It is like the best parts of the tater tots combined into one delectable morsel.

8. Have you ever picked out (fro'd) his hair?
Occassionally he gets some rather tight curls near his head, so we have to untangle that hair and pretty much fluff it out. He lets me preen him like I am a big old silverback. He just sits in my lap and lets me pull out his “tangles.” He has not had a true afro (his hair is just not thick enough) but he has definitely had an “Einstein.”

9. What's the funniest thing he's said in the last 24 hrs.?
Mama, No go to Potty! Mama Chair! (He was sitting on Wifey’s lap and she needed to go… umm… well… potty (Giblets and Gravy! I sound like a parent. She had to pee! She had to use the facilities! Add to the toilet water! Potty?!?! I am really losing my ability to relate to non-parents.) ahem… she had to go to the bathroom, but Little Man really liked her as a chair.

10. How did you choose his name?
We went through an insane amount of baby name books and finally came up with 2 names that we both liked. An odd fact about Wifey, she will read a baby name book for fun. Infact there are usually at least 3 baby name books out and about in the house at any one given time. Anyway... we waited for the little tootsa to be born and decided which name fit him best.

11. What is his favorite cartoon/toy/song that you can’t stand?
Oh, there are so many… I would still have to go with Higgly Town Heroes!

12. What do you secretly (or not so secretly) hope that he will be when he grows up?
Rich! Stinking RICH!!!

13. What’s the most “testosteroney” thing he’s ever done?
Lately he has really enjoyed climbing the doorjamb, but have I mentioned his love for trains?

14. What is the name of his blog?
He has 2 that he occasionally has his duo of ghost writers pen for him: this one and this one

15. Now that Little Man is getting older, does he ever communicate a dislike and/or unfairness of how many allergies and breathing problems he has?
He has not really been socialized enough to realize that he is missing out too much. It also helps that he really is not that willing to try new foods.

16. What's the most shocking thing Little Man ever said or did? (good or bad)
Hmmmm... I believe it would be pantsing (to remove someone else's pants without permission in a public space) Wifey in the Library

17. I heard ANOTHER man refer to his wife and child as Wifey and Little Man respectively, so I Googled "wifey AND 'little man'" out of curiosity (which also made me realize that I should get a life). Do you realize you are result #4? Which begs the question: Why "Little Man?"
He is male and small. Yep, that pretty much sums it up. Eventually, I imagine that I might have to alter his moniker.

PSYou need to get out more…

18. Does Little Man know about your blog?
Not so much. I am pretty sure that one day he will be unhappy with its existence

19. Please describe Little Man's love for trains.
It is an all consuming passion brighter than the sun. The fire of addiction burns in his belly much like a junkie craves heroine. He simply cannot get enough trains. It is impossible. I hope it passes because I don’t really want to set up the basement as a big old train layout.

20. What are the top two traits Little Man gets from you? One good. One evil.
Good: He really is pretty laid back and go “with the flow” about his schedule
Evil: (From Wifey) willfulness. That and the inability to use pronouns – your whole “SRH will be cooking dinner now, and SRH will be going to bed now” - has set a terrible – nay, evil –precedent at our house.


To recap:
SRH is done with this post
I really don’t refer to myself in the 3 rd person all that much
I am, however, wearing a purple shirt today and therefore will be using the royal “we” for a while
We have no idea what we shall be having for dinner tonight
We still need a royal nap
We wonder if the King of Pirates would employ the royal “we” in their pirate speech
Then… we drift of to another subject
You can all imagine the dismissive waving of our royal hand during this recap
We are now finished with our posting for the day

The Weekend That Was

How should I start out this post? Oh yes, I know. Little Man is bat-shit insane. He is off his rocker. Loopy. Nuts. Manic. Coo-Coo for Coacoa Puffs. Frappé à la tête. Loco de la cabeza. He is wacked out of his mind on (wait for it…. wait for it…. ) Orapred! That’s right the 11 month hiatus from Insane Little Man is over. Little Man’s breathing took a nose dive Thursday evening. Friday morning, the doctor decided that it was, indeed, time to hop Little Man up on goofballs. But this is only the beginning of the weekend. There is more to come.

Wifey had a conference this weekend, in fact she is still at the conference right now. It is some conference about dialog facilitation at a resort outside of Boulder, Colorado. (she gets to go to all the best trainings and conferences)

Umm.. I make maps for a living

For those of you in the know, you know there ain’t nothin’ outside of Boulder, CO. For those of you not in the know, there ain’t nothing in the Boulder, CO area. She is in the sticks, the boonies, the middle of nowhere, the not in cell service area. (Her actually getting there was an event in it’s own right, but that is a story for her to tell, and she kind of already did.) Anyway, to make a long story tediously laborious I would have Dickens ghost write for me, but Dickens is dead ("ghost write"? "dead"? quite the unintentional pun), so that ain’t happening. I guess I will have to sum up via a time line.

• 12:30-ish pm: Little Man takes a double dose of Orapred
• 3:40 pm: we pile into the car to take Wifey to the airport
• 3:50 pm: The “You need to buys some gas, Idiot” light comes on
• 4:00 pm: Little Man and I start our trek home from the airport. Little Man is starting to cough.
• 4:10 pm: Finally find a gas station. Little Man is coughing more.
• 4:14 pm: Traffic sucks so bad we have to go the opposite direction of where we want to go. Little Man’s coughing is even worse
• 4:20 pm: Still working towards home in a VERY roundabout way. Little Man’s coughing is nearly constant
• 4:45 pm: Finally home. What is typically a 15-20 minute trip has taken 45 minutes. Little Man is really coughing now.
• 4:46 pm: Little Man is getting a breathie (aerosol treatment with Xopenex and Attrovent)
• 6:00 pm: Second dosage of Orapred
• 6:45 pm: Coughing is bad again, time for another breathie
• 8:45 pm: Time for another Breathy
• 9:30 pm: Start getting bags ready for the trip to the ER
• 9:45 pm: coughing just is not getting any better time to go to the ER
• 10:00 pm: ER
• 10:15 pm: ER triage
• 12:30 am: Leave ER waiting room to go home and give Little Man a breathing treatment
• 2:30 am: Little Man finally falls asleep
• 3:00 am: Papa finally falls asleep
• 8:40 am: Little Man is up and ready to go, but no longer coughing

By up and ready to go, I mean, nuts. Bonkers. Cracked. Unhinged. Balmy (is “Balmy” a synonym for crazy? It sounds almost right.).

This morning began day 4 of the Orapred saga. I am tired and cranky. Little Man is tired and cranky. Wifey is tired and cranky (for different reasons, she will have to get into those if she wants), and she will not be home until tomorrow afternoon.

To recap:
This is the second time Wifey has left me with Little Man in the throws of Orapred loopiness
Bat-shit insane, off his rocker, loopy, nuts, manic, coo-coo for Coacoa Puffs, frappé à la tête, loco de la cabeza, he is wacked out of his mind, nuts, bonkers, cracked, unhinged, balmy
I am exhausted
Mimma has been a lifesaver
Everything will be back to normal tomorrow
Right???!???!??!!!??

Pics

We just got Little Man’s pre-school pics yesterday, and honestly, I am not sure whose child they photographed. ‘Cause that kid ain’t mine. My kid is a perpetual motion machine. He contests the laws of thermodynamics. He has an insatiable need to touch cameras. He doesn’t stand still long enough to focus a camera, much less stage a photograph. This is not my child. It cannot be. This situation just is not. I defy its existence! “Defy!” I say. “DEFY!”*

There are 3 main issues that I have with this picture, so I will go through them one by one.

Issue the first: How old is my kid again? The boy in that picture is at least 5. Little Man is only 3.25 yrs old.
Issue the second: Umm… who is this coy child so demurely holding his hands behind his back whilst innocently shrugging? Little Man is not coy, demure, or (picture posing-wise) innocent.
Issue the third: This child clearly has more meat on his bones than Little Man. This is an issue that we have with many picture taking episodes. For some reason pics tend to give Little Man a rounded cherub-like face that one would see shining down from heaven conferring peace and love over the populace of the world. In actuality, he is a bit thinner and not so benevolent. All pics of him that are taken with him facing camera (how did you get him to do this, O master photographer?) seem to add weight to him. Really, he is a skinny little guy. “Skin and bones,” I say!**

So, I think a more accurate picture of him is this one,

even if it is older.

To recap:
Little Man is still sick today
Not as sick as yesterday
Not sure what is for dinner tonight
Might be left overs
Got my flu shot today
My shoulder is starting to tighten up
I am certain I will be sick tomorrow


*curious, would “Defy!” says I! “DEFY!” have worked better? I am just not sure if the atypical phrasing would have messed up the pacing by drawing one’s attention to the atypical phrasing. Heavy hangs the head of the lowly blogger phrasographer.
** I “say!” a lot, don’t I?***
*** I am asking tons of questions today, arten’t I?****
**** I did it again

The First Person

One of the statements on Little Man’s speech evaluation administered on Tuesday of last week was “Doesn’t refer to himself or others using pronouns.” Or something very similar to that, I don’t remember the wording exactly. Anyway the gist of that particular critique of Little Man’s speaking ability is that he always refers to himself by his name, much like Bob Dole. First person is unheard of in Little Man’s world… until this weekend.

So, after not using “I” statements around the evaluator of his speechificationabilities Little Man comes up with this over the weekend:

But I want to kick Papa’s belly now-wuh!

What the Hell?!?!? There are so many things that are wrong with that I have trouble knowing where to start.
Okay I am going to give it a go - here are the problems with this statement:

• It is in first person. Other than the now infamous I said, “No TV!” Little Man really has not employed the first person pronoun as much as what we hear the typical 3 year old does.
• It involves bodily harm to Papa, albeit in a place that has much padding.
• It was whiny. When the heck did my little guy get all whiney!

To recap:
My little boy has entered the whiney 3’s
But I want chicky fingers right now-wuh…
Yeah, people in Hell want ice-water, kid
I had to do some of that managerial crap today that really sucks
Houston Dynamo won, Fulham tied, Bolton tied, and Reading won
All in all a nice weekend of Footie
Back to work for me
20 Questions Tuesday, the SRH edition tomorrow

On speechies and carbon

Little Man got his speech and hearing evaluated on Tuesday. I didn’t mention it on Tuesday because, well, I forgot. So far at each well visit check up that he has had with El Doctoré, Little Man tended to just barely meet the speech requirements associated with his age. For example, at his 3 year check up, at the last second he pulled out of nowhere that he was a “little boy” whose age was “treeeeeeeee.” Well, played Little Man. Well played, indeed. Anyway, he had his speech and hearing evaluation done at his preschool today. To make a lengthy post only medium sized, he failed the speech portion.

Okay, here is where the ranting and waving of arms commences. One of the criteria determining his failure was, and I attempt to quote without a copy in front of me, “Does not listen and has difficulty following directions.” Ummm… I don’t want to remotely negate any of your evaluation, but I think you may have stumbled onto one of my darling little boy’s overdeveloped personality traits more than a speech deficiency. The boy listens when he wants to and soaks up information like a sponge. He won’t say anything that he gleaned from listening until he finds it to be most in-opportune. Not to mention the fact that he is 3! He is an obstinate little cuss, and I imagine that the speechies were keeping him from playing with the train table. So, one other thing about the eval. If one is going to fail a child on a developmental diagnostic test, one should make sure that one writes clearly and legibly, oh, and make sure that the carbon copy you give the parents actually transferred. Half explanations and indecipherable scribblings do not help a parent understand what is going on.

On the good side, they said that his pronunciation was good and that his cadence was okay as well.

To Recap:
Little Man is an obstinate little cuss
I have a meeting to get to in 15 minutes
I slept for crap last night
I am sure it will make me nice and cheery for the meeting
Not sure what is going to be for dinner tonight
If Little Man had an accident free day, it might include root beer
If they had talked to him about trains, I doubt he would have shut up
Have a great weekend

I Said, "No TV."

I really did not want to get out of bed this morning. This weekend was a whirlwind affair of activities. On Saturday, Wifey and I had to run errands and do some shopping in the morning/early afternoon, but prior to all the errands we went to The Kitchen Lounge north of OSU Campus on High Street. All you Columbus-ites, Columbusians, Columbusters who live in the Clintonville/Campus area, check it out (I am looking at you JW, and B and K). The hash-browns were more homefries-ish than hash-browny (which is usually a negative), but they were incredible. Wifey and I went there for breakfast and, well, it was quite tasty and surprisingly cheap. Now, we just need to go there for lunch and dinner.

After the eating, we did some errand running post mealtime and then, Saturday afternoon or early evening (DAMN YOU DAYLIGHT SAVINGS TIME!!!), I moved the computer table around in the office. Now, I have not really moved this particular computer around for about 3 years. In those 3 years, it has collected quite the dust menagerie. Well, to make a medium sized story rather short (because I am lazy), I had the absolute worst allergic reaction I have had in a very long time. My eyes got all puffy and itchy and I stuffed up pretty fast. I decided to partake of some of the liquid Benadryl that we give Little Man, so I could ease up the symptoms associated with my reaction.

Sweet Mother of God and all that is Holy! That stuff sucks, and I had to choke down 4 tsps of the crap. I can soooo understand why Little Man is so vehemently opposed to ingesting that glop. It did make me feel better though.

On another front, the Papa/Little Man day was marred by his being sick. Unfortunately he was not sick enough to just want to laze about on the couch flopping all over Papa. He was just sick/well enough to be really whiny and demanding. On second thought, maybe he wasn’t sick at all, maybe he was 3. I will have to ponder on that as the day goes on. He seems to be over the hump as far as sickness goes. Now he just seems stuffed up a little and kind of hoarse. Basically he sounds like Bea Arthur. Which is pretty funny when you think about it.

It is funny unless your little one, your darling joy, your light from Heaven, the child you adore says “I SAID, 'NO TV!'” Whaaat? He didn’t just???… did he just?? Whoa! He just yelled at me not to turn MY TV, just because he wants to watch train videos on YouTube. Oh, this is a problem. I thought, hey, I will just show him and turn on the EPL game on Fox Soccer Channel. Oh, wait, I couldn’t! It turns out that I was limited to watching the Disney Channel or Nick JR because the brand spanking new DVR was recording both The Mickey Mouse Clubhouse and Wonderpets. It seesm the TV/Cable box can only do soooo much at the same time. So we showed Little Man, we made him watch The Mickey Mouse Clubhouse against his, Wifey's and my wills! Ha! That’ll learn him real good!

To Recap:
Looks like we are making faux pizza for dinner tonight
My cold migrated from my chest to my head
Luckily I can medicate around this pretty well
Second day of swim lessons today for Little Man
Not as successful as last time
Going to the grocery store to buy lunch today
And more medicine
Little Man gets the hairs cut today
20 Questions Tuesday will be all about Wifey
Oh, GOD! 20 Questions Tuesday will be all about Wifey
She is going to kick my pale blue ass

Conference

So today, Wifey and I had our first ever parent/teacher conference. This was a scheduled conference, so for all of you out there thinking that Little Man was biting and/or kicking, therefore causing a punitive parent/teacher conference to be called about his inappropriate escalating behavior, you should be duly disappointed.

The crux of the conference rested on Little Man’s lack of verbal interaction and his inability to be still for sustained periods of time. He is the class’s wiggliest of wiggle worms. Instead of talking and playing with the other kids, it seems that Little Man’s “Big, Fat, Kitty” persona seems to come through. He “meows” more than he “talks.” Wait, why did I put “talks” in quotes there? Okay let’s try this again. He “meows” more than he talks. Does “meows” need quotes? Now I am all confused.

Long story short, Little Man enjoys pre-school, is getting better at sharing, has trouble staying still during group story time, meows more than he talks, and seems to be getting along just fine with his class.

Onto the parental ramifications associated with his first parent/teacher conference.

How did I get this old? I have a kid who has had a parent/teacher conference. When the Hell did my baby become a pre-schooler and how did he get old enough to have a parent/teacher conference? And he is having trouble sharing? My baby boy is perfect, what is with all this “getting better at sharing” crap? Clearly the other children are not waiting for him to finish playing with whatever it is he is playing with. The only reason they don’t see he shining verbal skills is their lack of train themed conversations. And if they let him pick the stories they would have no issues with him wiggling around too much, he would be enrapt with the train story they were telling.

To recap:
I am ooooooold
But not so old as to have hip problems
I was surprised that I did not get any pro-Halloween comments after yesterday’s post
When did my baby become a little boy?
Honestly, he is doing really well in the pre-school
For not really being socialized until this fall, he is doing well
Since pre-school started we have noticed his verbal communication skills growing by leaps and bounds
But he is still a quiet kid
I am finally feeling good enough to try exercising again
So Saturday morning, I have a date with an elliptical machine
Lucky me
I think I did better at the parent/teacher thingy than Wifey
Little Man and I have a Papa day tomorrow
I have needed a Papa day for a while now
I am looking forward to the Papa Day naptime
The best time of the day
Have a great weekend

Breathe

I went to Little Man’s allergist appointment today. It was a fine little check-up. He is doing just fine. It was a delightful little family side trip in the middle of the day. I got to see my little boy and my wife for a nice hour long interlude in an otherwise monotonous day. It was a wonderful, yet not long enough, hiatus from the doldrums of work life. It really did make me really wish we were independently wealthy and did not have to toil in the cubicle salt mines of today’s information economy. A slave to the keyboard I am. Anyway… sadly, the trip to the doctor’s office to discuss my kid’s breathing issues was, forgive the horrid pun, a breath of fresh air.

He is almost old enough and coordinated enough to use the inhalers with breathing spacer associated with these new fangled contraptions. That would cut his breathie from about 5 to 10 minutes to however long it takes him to take 8 deep breaths. That would make the morning and evening rituals much easier. We will be working with him on this really diligently. The breathing machine (nebulizer) can be quite the chore. Sure it is a chore that keeps my kid alive, but a chore is a chore is a chore is a chore, in my book.

So after the Dr’s visit, Wifey and the boy drop me off at work so I can chain myself back to a desk and toil away. Wifey drops Little Man back off at G-Ma D and G-Pa R’s and then off to work she goes. Off to work she goes… with my cough drops. Oh, no! She drove off with my cough drops. My drops of anti-coughing. My Lozenges of Throat Soothiness. My only way of not hacking up a lung on a co-worker’s desk (I would not do it on my desk, sanitary reasons and all).

Mentholyliptus (Greek God of Throat Soothing) why did you allow me to be left bereft of all anti-coughing lozenges? Why?!?!? Please, Oh, Sweet Merciful Phle-Gnum (Egyptian Goddess of Colds and Wracking Coughs {Shout out to B!}), please forgive my transgressions against you, for I only have 2 cough drops left and hours yet till I can be re-united with my bag of soothing remedy. I realize that it was my own fault for putting the bag in Wifey’s cup holder. I realize that I am at fault, but, please, please have mercy on my pitiful itchy throated self.

To recap
Two Halls Cherry Flavored Cough Drops away from Hellish office coughdom
Left overs for dinner tonight, I am just not sure what it is that we have left over
I need to go and get more Breath Right Strips tonight, for I am out
Wifey is going out for drinks with some VIPs tonight
I’m staying in cradling a bag of red cough droppy relief
There is no projected tornado this evening so I won’t be working out
Wifey is a lightweight – maybe I’ll get lucky
More likely I’ll cough my way into a lonesome bed trailing a wave of sick behind me
8 Deep breaths, how hard could that be?
……
Okay, I am a bit light headed now
Really, there is a good bit of dizziness going on right now
Maybe I should try to get him to do 8 deep breaths, not 8 DEEEEP breaths
….
Whew…. spinning in my chair right now while sitting still
Okay one should definitely not do 8 DEEEEP breaths followed by 8 deep breaths

Four things

There were a couple of things said this weekend by Little Man that bear repeating.

Thing the first: Albeit a day later than he said it to his mama, Little Man without prompting or any sort of stimulus (that I know of) said, and I quote, “I wubove you, Papa.” Which I believe translates into “I love you.” This really can make one’s day, week, year, World Cup qualifying cycle, decade, lifetime. To see my wonderful little 3 year old earnestly say from the bottom of his heart that he loves me is simply earth shattering. My world changed in that instant.

Thing the second: Saturday evening due to my own not feeling well and Wifey’s desire not to cook we went to a local restaurant for dinner. Pig Iron BBQ is a local favorite of the fam. They have a pretty good BBQ sauce. Their pulled pork and beef brisket are good, their ribs are tasty, but a great reason to go there is the fact that they serve the Old Bag of Nails’s fish’n’chips. For my British readers out there, this is the best fish’n’ships I have had since that place in Manchester a little ways off from the University of Manchester dorms (way back when I was 12 or so I went to the Bobby Charlton Soccer and Sports Academy for a week long camp. I was quite the little defender when I was young.) Anyway, there was this little place just off campus (if I remember correctly it was at the University of Manchester so long ago, but I honestly don’t remember because at the time I did not care) that was a hole in the wall fish’n’chips place that still wrapped the deep fried goodness in newspaper and sold soft drinks in glass liter bottles. It was amazing, but I digress. So, Saturday we take Little Man to get a pulled pork sandwich. He politely ate a bite of the sandwich and then proceeded to impolitely mow down a basket of onion rings.

Fast forward to Sunday afternoon when he got the left over pulled pork sandwich from the fridge. After I heat up the cold sandwich, he brings it out to the living room, where sandwiches should be eaten. He looks at the plate and states, “Sandwich: soooooooooo cuuuute.” Yes, the sandwich, as far as pulled pork BBQ sandwiches go, is rather cute.

Thing the third: Little Man seems to have another personality that he reverts to occasionally. It is pure harmless play, so Wifey and I are not really all that concerned. He has given up the personality of the puppy (puppies being too obedient, I guess) and has taken on the personality of “Fluffy” the kitty cat. Once while Fluffy was having me scritch his head, Fluffy gave me a more detailed picture of this persona by stating rather emphatically, “Fluffy, a big fat yellow kitty cat.” Great, now my kid has weight issues as an imaginary cat.

Things the fourth: This weekend, Mimma got Little Man a wonderful wooden train toy. It is made by Whittle Wooden Trains. This company tries to produce trains and train cars that will fit on the same size track as the wooden Thomas the Tank Engine toys, but their trains and cars resemble those of the actual real world. Anyway, Mimma got Little Man a brand spanking new CSX Diesel Engine, and it and Little Man have been inseparable since.

Sunday afternoon, I overhear the youngster secretly wisper whilst he is playing at the train table, “I wubove you, CNX Engine.” 2 things to remark about this turn of events. Number 1: I don’t know why he will not call it a “CSX” instead of a “CNX,” but no amount of correction will make him change what he calls it. Number 2: My world changed again in that instant. He loves me, he loves a toy train, he loves the TV, he loves this, he loves that... etc. I do not feel so special anymore.

To recap:
I am still a bit under the weather
But I am feeling much better
I think I am going to skip the workout and just concentrate on feeling better
Not sure what is for dinner tonight
My entire under 12 team went to England for the soccer camp
We played 4 exhibition matches against 4 different equivalently aged British teams
They kicked our asses
Every game
It is okay because we didn’t expect anything different
We had some snow flakes this morning
Little Man “wuboves” banana muffins too

Barely coherent crap

So, I had half a day off today with Little Man. The caregivers had some family issues crop up today that necessitated them traveling today. He has traveled with them before, and it has gone just fine. That being said, since he is still a bit under the weather, it was not a good idea for him to be stuck in a car for 3 or so hours.

So this morning was spent doing one of his favorite activities, “Play bed.” Play bed is wqhere I go lie on the bed while he jumps around me and on me. It causes much giggling from him and groaning from me. He typically wants us to have the TV on something Playhouse Disney-ish, whilst jumping on me with wild abandon. By “wild abandon” I mean “both knees to the gut or back pending on how I am laying on the bed.” A fun time is had by all. That being said, he did allow me to doze off and on during The Koala Brothers. Thanks Little Man!

So anyway… the Happy SRH Household is still on the mend. Little Man’s fever is down a bit, but his congestion is up and his breathing is more ragged. The phrase “congestion is up” does not really do justice to the amount of mucus he is ejecting. We are currently set at Asthma DEFCON 2. Every 3 to 4 hours we make him partake of a breathing treatment, or “20 minutes of boredom,” as he has come to know these treatments. We try to make the 20 minutes go faster by using YouTube. If one is concerned about what is “funny,” one should merely watch the 1 minute 38 second video that you can choose by searching for “cats” on YouTube. It is typically the second choice in the list of choices. “Funny” = “cats falling off of things” according to my 3 year old. “Funny” = “Watching a 3 year old almost fall out of a chair giggling” if you ask the aforementioned 3 year old’s parents.

Wifey is feeling better. Last night her body remembered that she hadn’t eaten anything substantive in 2.5 days. She them promptly ate too much for her unsettled stomach to handle without making her feel awful for the following 2+ hours. In other words, she ate more than an apple sauce serving. I know, “What was SHE thinking?!?!?”

Today, she is spending the afternoon with Little Man. We both tend to fight for who spends the afternoon with the boy. Not only have all of his daily meds been administered and he is dressed and lunch is typically over, but there is also the possibility of a nap. A glorious pause in the middle of the day. A wonderful respite e from annoying consciousness. The way to make all week days better. I am certain they will both have a wonderful afternoon.

To recap:
The “Little Wiggles” absolutely suck! I mean, what the Hell! Can’t they find 5 kids in the whole of Australia who can do that crappy schtick? Sweet Mother of God!
Little Man sounds like he is a career smoker
All gravely and Bea Arthur-ish
Also, it seems he was not able to nap this afternoon
DAMN YOU CONGESTION!!! DAMN YOU TO HELLLLLLL!!!!!
Man I need to do some laundry
Not sure what is for dinner tonight
The schedule is all out of whack!

You be Illin'

It is really difficult to understand all that a partner does to get the house run smoothly until that partner is incapacitated. Wifey is ill, and wow, those shockwaves are quite profound. She and Little Man have quite a routine developed for the morning rituals. A morning routine that I, much loved and capable Papa, do not have. My skilz seem to reside fervently within the “bed-time ritual” realm. I can bathe that boy like a mo’fo! I am all about the bath-tub crayons. Who can read the bed-time stories? Papa that’s who! Oh I am quite adroit at the bed-time ritual. It is a specialty. I have specialized. In my specialization I have lost some of my general skills. Those general skills being the “morning ritual.”

So “What is the morning ritual?” you might ask? Well, honestly, I am not completely sure since consistently I bungle it so badly. I know it has something to do with food prep, food consumption, TV viewing, and dressing for the day. Don’t get me wrong. When I do the morning duties, Little Man gets fed, watches some TV, and gets different clothes on, but not “according top the ritual.” The whole time I am ion charge of mornings, you can see Little Man just slightly shaking his head in exasperation. He will give a heave a big sigh, and tolerate my amateurish flounderings. Little Man is all about the ritual. All about it. No, really. In fact my ineptness in the mornings is so bad that when both Wifey and I are home, awake, and downstairs during the morning time, she actually asks me to leave since I get in her way so much.

Anyway… Wifey is under the weather today. She has a scratchy throat, is chilled, and aches. A typical flu-esque type of malady. She is feeling better than she did when she first woke up, but she is still feeling a bit crappy. Anyway… after getting ready for work, I had to assist in the morning ritual. Even half dazed due to her malady, Wifey navigated through the rituals 10 times better than her bumbling husband. She even adapted his morning ritual from “’Nilla Toast,” his typical breakfast, to a bowl of cereal without missing a beat. She is badass that way. She reads his morning moods and orients her actions without a second thought. I have trouble getting him out of his PJ’s. She can get him scarfing down oatmeal and strawberries, while I forget to give him his morning breathy until his afternoon nap. The dissimilarities are quite striking really.

So today, I played assistant to Wifey’s ailing primary role. I am proud to say that I fired okay and did not muck things up too much.

To Recap:
Wifey is ailing, and I am a poor morning substitute
Got a new monitor for the home PC this weekend
It is great
World of Warcraft looks amazing on it
So does Outlook, but who cares about that?
Not sure what is for dinner tonight
Wifey was planning on cooking some chicken stuff prior to being laid low by whatever is ailing her
I had a splitting headache yesterday due to the weather
Stupid change in barometric pressure!
Tomorrow’s 20 Questions is going to be about food
Wow, this post was basically a Shout out to Wifey
Bizarre
I guess I still like her
Check out who the screenwriter for "Stuart Little" is
Where was the bizarre end of the movie plot twist?
21 days until the 2nd Blogaversary!

Biper

So yesterday evening previous to the evening ritual with Little Man, he asks for a “Biper.” Now, before everyone goes all anti-diaper/pro-potty training on my poor butt, let me ‘splain where we are in the whole potty training continuum. Honestly, there are not enough words that require the “uu,” but I digress. Anyway… Little Man is at the point in his potty training process where he typically will pee in the toilet or potty, but he is not about pooping in receptacles not strapped to his waist. So after he asks for a “biper” we ask him if he wants to use the potty or the toilet (“potty” being the cheap plastic thing his size and “toilet” being the porcelain god we make daily offerings to. That God is a bit unhappy with our gifts, but again that is beside the point.), he will adamantly refuse to use a “proper” waste receptacle and instead insists that we strap a poop-catcher on him. Now I know there are some people out there who think we should force the little tyke to use the facilities, but I know how willful this particular little cuss can/will be, so to keep this from becoming a battle of wills instead of a natural healthy evolving progression, we do not force him to make himself constipated.

Anyway… typically about 15 minutes after applying the poop-catcher, Little Man will find something handy to hold onto whilst bending over a little bit, standing on tip tows while rotating his right knee inwards, and “concentrating.” This hand hold could be the arm of a couch, the shelf for the DVD player, the train table, or occasionally Mimma. So he courches over and concentrates for a couple of minutes and then proclaims himself “Dirty.” Not Miss Aguilera’s kind of “Dirrty” mind you, he is only 3.1 years old.

I wait a couple of minutes because, who knows if he is actually done or not. Then I get the washcloth and start to approach him about cleaning his butt. I enter the room with a warm wet washcloth and he immediately backs up to the TV saying, No change biper! No change biper!

Little Man, we have to change your diaper, it is poopy and it isn’t good to have poop up against your bottom. I said “we” like there was someone else in the house. I do like to think of myself as the king of my domain, so maybe whilst Wifey was gone I was pretending to be the ruling monarch of Castle De SRH. Anyway…

No change biper! No change biper!
Little Man, we have to get you clean. Maybe I was really approaching it as a collaborative effort between he and I and as a King to his subject?
No CHANGE BIPER!
I am going to count to 5… Oooh the big guns. He comes over and lays down in front of me, and I commence the wiping procedure.

Okay, you might be asking me, “Why the heck am I reading about you changing your kid’s diaper?” Well, nice reader, the back story was necessary for the punchline of this particular anecdote.

About 15 minutes after “forcing Little Man to get out of his own filth” Little Man crawls up on my lap and looks at me expectantly. Papa sorry?
No, Papa is not sorry for cleaning your little butt.
Papa sorry.
Papa is not sorry. Sometimes Papas and Mamas have to do things that have to be done even when you do not want them to.
Papa SORRY!
Papa is sorry that you did not want to get out of that dirty diaper.
He gave me a curt nod and said satisfactorily, Papa sorry.

To recap:
Exercising sucks
I hurt worse today
Much worse
And I have to do it again… tonight!
Goodness I wish he would poop in the toilet
I posted something on The Drawingboard’s superhero section today
This was a big leap for me
Now I just need to start drawing regularly again

Where het-er-cotter

I am tired. Last night I did not sleep well because, well, last night Little Man did not sleep well. When Little Man does not sleep well, at least one of the parental units does not sleep well. Last night was my turn “in the barrel,” so to speak, and Little Man was Niagara Falls.

There are a few reasons for his lack of un-consciousness during the previous evening. First and foremost during some periods of the night, much like everyone he is not that heavy of a sleeper. Between the hours of 2 and 4 in the morning there is a good chance that Little Man will rouse due to the slightest sound that is out of the ordinary. This is one of the reasons that we always have a marginally loud fan on at night. Not only is it white noise, but it also helps the air to move around a bit and remove the feeling of staleness. Ah, the fan, it does at least 2 jobs at one time.

Secondly, his belly has been a bit on the upset side for the past day or so. It has been audibly rumbly and gurgly and the 3+ year old has been releasing some gas that would fell a rhino. Really, he has been rank. Other than some gastronomic distress, he has seemed fine. His breathing is alright, he does not have a fever, he has been generally playful, and he seems to move through the day typically, if not stinkily.

Thirdly, there was a helicopter circling our house for at least 40 minutes last night between the 2:15 am and 2:55 am timeframe. While Little Man valiantly tried to stay asleep, he eventually woke up around 2:40. Stupid helicopters! Or “Het-er-cotters” as Little man was saying last night from 2:40 to 2:55. From 2:55 to 3:20 he was asking “Where het-er-cotter?” “Where het-er-cotter?” “Where het-er-cotter?” “Where het-er-cotter?” “Where het-er-cotter?” “Where het-er-cotter?” “Where het-er-cotter?” “Where het-er-cotter?” “Where het-er-cotter?” “Where het-er-cotter?” “Where het-er-cotter?” “Where het-er-cotter?” “Where het-er-cotter?” “Where het-er-cotter?” “Where het-er-cotter?” “Where het-er-cotter?” “Where het-er-cotter?” “Where het-er-cotter?” “Where het-er-cotter?” “Where het-er-cotter?” “Where het-er-cotter?” “Where het-er-cotter?” “Where het-er-cotter?” “Where het-er-cotter?” “Where het-er-cotter?” “Where het-er-cotter?” I answered the first 10 times he asked with something like “The helicopter is gone, now you need to go back to sleep, Punkin’ Pie” or some such variation. After that It was one word / one phrase answers like “gone,” “dead,” “it blewed up,…” Punctuated with begging and pleading for him to go back to sleep. Eventually I had my hands covering my ears and was rocking back and forth asking no one in particular “Why won’t he go to sleep?” repeatedly.

He finally re-succumbed to sleep (released his white knuckled grip on consciousness) around 4:15 am and fitfully slept until around 6:50 when he finally settled into his final 45 minutes of deep sleep for the day.

I am tired, and I have work I am neglecting.

To Recap
Where het-er-cotter?
Breath Right Strips may save my marriage
I have a meeting I have to get ready for
It will suck mightily, although it would not be so bad if we had snacks
Snacks make everything else better
Is it only Wednesday?