Dads

We came across another great blog post from Always Home and Uncool. Read the article.

Remember how hard I was working this year to yell less at my kids?

I blew it all last night.

It felt good and I won’t apologize about it.

The day started so promising. Ran two miles. Had two good cups of coffee from two different stores. Pleasant experience dealing with the bank over an ATM issue. Collection of appreciative birds eating at the feeder outside my office window.  Me and Murphy met the Things at school and we walked home in the unusually warm early March sunlight. Thing 2 and I had our first game of catch for the year out in the front yard. I helped Thing 1 spend her birthday money (and then some) online on a decent first camera that – yes, sweetie — is in the pink color you wanted.

Then around dinnertime all hell broke loose.

Someone’s touching someone else. Someone’s bothering me when I’m trying to do something. I can’t do this with that one here. I won’t leave because that one wants to do something here. She drooled on my special blanket! He pushed me in the stomach! But you said. But mom said. But blah blah blah.

I tried reasoning.

I tried sending them to their rooms.

Motherflucker, I tried enough.

Laws were laid down and consequences spelled out at Who-concert volume.

Lips curled. Tears fell.

Yet no one has said, “I’m sorry.”

Especially not me.

Not this time.

But, at last, all is calm again.

Parenting: Not for the faint of heart or the meek of voice.

…

…

(I’m still here. Just waiting for the guilt to kick in.)

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On a lighter note, I discuss the evil that is overpriced and overly complex highchairs on DadCentric.com this week. You’ll think better of me after you read that one.

We came across another great blog post from Clark Kent’s Lunchbox. Read the article.

We came across another great blog post from Happy Healthy Hip Parenting. Read the article.

I’ve been dating Mr. Right for several months now (seven, if you’re keeping track) and every time his name comes up, the same question is asked: When is he going to move here?

At first, I avoided the question, letting people know we take things day by day and are in no hurry to rush into anything.

If you asked either of us directly, we’d say the same thing. We enjoy our time together, look forward to those long weekends and cherish the time we have to ourselves. In that time, we’re able to develop our individual interests, careers, goals, and hobbies so that we can fully give to one another when we can.

But…

We’re not kids anymore, and our relationship with one another has quickly become one of the most important components of who we are. We schedule time to chat during the week so that we can devote quality time to one another, checking in on a regular basis, gaining an understanding of the daily situations, experiences, thoughts, and emotions that same-city couples encounter.

Again, there’s no rush. In fact, I would argue that we’re more cautious because of the additional challenges we face.

Long-distance relationships require additional effort. It hasn’t been easy and I wouldn’t expect anyone to understand our situation if they haven’t been in a long-distance relationship themselves, or in a relationship with a single parent.

The fact that the two of us have known each other for so long seems to be the key to our success. What happens in the future depends on our continued commitment to being open, honest and receptive. I see no reason why this would change.

We create our destiny. It is what we make of it. We allow our experiences to influence our emotions and shape how we feel about where each step will lead.

As I write this, I think of how far we’ve come, the distance between us and the history that keeps us moving forward, together, looking in the same direction, focusing on where we hope to be twenty years from now – by each other’s side.

It feels good. It feels right. It feels safe, comfortable and perfect. In every way.

I hold on to this feeling…knowing that every moment we’re apart brings us closer together in the end, and yet there is no end…

This is just the beginning.

Happy Healthy Hip Parenting
Peace Begins in the Home

We came across another great blog post from Hockeyman. Read the article.

Ahhhh, once again I have a hockey team to play on. At least for the remainder of this season which will be about 9 more games including playoffs, I will be on the ice every Thursday night. I am very happy about that to say the least.

Now if I can get rid of this sore throat funk, on again off again small fever, overall feeling of exhaustion, that would be great. It’s not strep but the doc gave me an antibiotic anyway just to nip anything in the bud as he put it. I thought it might be from all the yard work I did Sunday, but it got worse and lingers annoyingly.

One week from tonight I will be at the house of blues watching Ben Folds playing his piano in person. Ummm, I think we still need a babysitter. Any takers? The sister in law moved away today so our normal go to person is now gone. Only 100 miles away, but a bit far to go for a simple night out.

Really looking forward to our big road trip in 2 weeks. Gonna meet my niece, gonna meet some of my Internet friends, and I’m pretty sure I’ll get a round of golf in with the father in law. More than anything, I desperately need the separation from my work for a week. Desperately.

I will be at BlogHer this year too. All I need is my airline ticket, and final approval for my time off and that will be that. I don’t have a pass to the conference, but I’m not really going for that. I’m going to meet some friends in real life, have a great time partying with said friends, and hanging out in my favorite city on Earth. After the show I’ll hang around for a few days and visit my family and old friends on the Island as well as take in a Mets game. So if you’re going, make sure we find each other. If you read my blog, I want to meet you.

Last weekend we went to the festival of chocolate, this weekend we’re going to the strawberry festival. My favorite fruit, yum.

Cool. Talk soon.

We came across another great blog post from Juggling Eric. Read the article.

When I was a kid, I loved my toys; He-Man, Transformers, GiJoe, Star Wars, and MASK. Some weekends, my best friend and I would go to each other’s houses and have giant wars in our bedrooms. Snake-Eyes versus Carbonite Han Solo. Man at Arms versus Autobot Mirage. Matt Striker’s Thunderhawk versus a Tie Fighter. Decepticon Skywarp versus Cobra Rattler. I know my female contingent will not get any of those references.

But…

It was the greatest cross promotional battle of all time.

That’s when I loved toys and toys were cool.

Now that I am a parent, toys suck and they are not cool.

Five kids. Five birthdays. Five Christmases. Tons of family members. You do the math.

Now since MaddSkillz is 14, he doesn’t get “toys” any longer. So he doesn’t count.

Em’s too small to appreciate them, but that doesn’t mean she won’t be getting them soon.

I have come to the conclusion that anyone who gets toys that have more than one part assigned to them HATES ME AND WANTS ME TO BE MISERABLE!!

I had to tell my MIL two years ago that I would not let her give my son a jungle set because it had too many pieces. She still had it and I was like, what the heck give it to him for Christmas. Now every time I go into my kids room, I step on the dang elephant and it screams out an elephant yell or whatever elephants do.

Try sneaking into the room at night trying to put clothes away without stepping on something that screams, cries, blares a siren, or sings “I love you I love you, morning noon and night.”

We have three toy boxes in the living room. One each for Ladybug, Disco and Celi. There’s only three because I took out the crap that I know they don’t play with any longer. If I didn’t, there would be SIXTEEN toy boxes. This stuff was put in a bag that is supposed to go to Goodwill.

Well, the bag hadn’t made it to Goodwill and the kids found it. So Ladybug goes through the bag looking for toys that she wants to keep.

I hate you procrastination. I work a block away from a Goodwill for Pete’s sake.

After many years of research, this is what I found out about toys and my kids:
– Ladybug will be more interested in what her brother gets than what she gets.
– Ladybug will want to play with her brother’s toys and exclaim the he is not sharing when he won’t let her.
– When Disco wants to play with her toys, the sharing thing obviously only pertains to his toys.
– One child could not play with the toy for months. They could even forget about it, but if another child finds that toy and plays with it, the sharing rule comes back into effect.
– Celi knows that blocks are good for hitting her brother in the face when he’s being mean.
– MaddSkillz will want to play with the kids toys, but when they find their way into his room, he will not let them play with the paddleball he got from Chuck E Cheese, SEVEN YEARS AGO!!!
– When getting a Happy Meal, we must get Ladybug and Disco boy toys because we go back to the whole Ladybug wants Disco’s toy rule.
– If you cant find a toy, it’s best to look behind the TV, on the top bunk, or at the top of the linen closet.
– The above is true because one kid doesn’t want the other kid to play with their toy, so they feel it’s best to throw it in a place the other has no chance of getting it. Even when it means they can’t get it either.
– The living room will be littered with toys by 7:36AM every morning.
– The above even happens when the kids sleep until 7:35AM.
– We can not have blocks in the house. Aside from being blunt weapons to siblings faces, it just causes too much drama.
– When it’s quiet and dark in my room at night, I will always kick the Rock and Roll ball my brother got for one of the kids.
– We will never let the kids play with this toy. The kids gather around it, scream at ear piercing levels, then wrestle each other like they’re playing Rugby or something. Even MaddSkillz gets involved. They opened it for Christmas, played with it a couple times. Now it sits on the top of our desk out of their reach.

Now I know the kid’s grandmothers read this blog (They’re actually 40% of my readership) , and this is not a plea to stop buying your precious grandkids gifts. Even if it was, it’s your job to spoil them no matter how frustrating and pissed off we get. Just like it’s apparently my dad’s job to give them Peeps, Soda, and Pop Rocks.

The kids love the toys and are very appreciative of them. Don’t let their ranting father ruin any positional gifts for them.

Have a great day my friends.

We came across another great blog post from 5ksandcabernets. Read the article.

First the smell/scene: Ben-Gay. Sweaty shirts. Port-o-potties. White panel vans. White lights. 18-wheelers blowing by you on lonely deserted highways. Night lights. Soggy socks. Blisters. Wind. Night chills. Sun. Reflector vests. Camera phone. Kinesio tape. Nipple tape. Ice.

Now, the stats. (Team Name: FW Luke’s A-Team. Team pic above.)

Our 10-person team (5 men, 5 women) finished the 203-mile course from Gonzales to Houston in 24 hours, 18 minutes. Pace was 7:11 min/mile. Of the 100 or so teams who ran this relay, we were fourth in our division (mixed adults) and 7th overall.

I ran Legs 8, 18, 28, and 38. They were distances of varying lengths, between 3.5 miles to 6.33 miles. The funny thing is, I’ve run more than 10 miles hundreds of times. But during this relay, any thing over 5 miles seemed hard. I guess that’s because I was trying to hold a pace faster than my half-marathon pace for every run.

My teammates drove from Fort Worth to Austin Thursday night to pick me up. We spent the night in Lockhart, then awoke Saturday morning to drive to the start of the relay in Gonzales.

The race directors staggered the starts for each of the 100 or more teams. The slower teams took off hours earlier than the faster teams. This is so that everyone would finish relatively at the same time. For instance, the slower teams took off around 6 AM Saturday morning. We were one of the faster teams, and we took off at about 1:00 PM Saturday afternoon.

We decided to split our team into two vans. While the members in one van ran, the other van could eat, or rest. We were in the second van, which meant that even though we began running at 1 PM, my first leg of the relay (Leg wouldn’t begin until around 5:30 PM.

Here are my splits for each of my legs.

Leg 8: 4.53 miles in 29:24. Pace: 6:29 min/mile: This was purely an adrenaline run. Like I said earlier, I’d been waiting around to run all day and when I finally got the “baton” I was like a bat out of hell. Since it was a staggered start, I ran this leg of the relay without seeing a single soul. We ran on highways and feeder roads and in neighborhoods, so I guess I did see people __ in their cars coming right at me.

Leg 18: 6.33 miles in 42:46. Pace: 6:45 min/mile: Go run a 10k. Then go sit in a cramped van, eat some french fries, and then in 5 1/2 hours, run another 10k. Your body will be mad at you. Very mad at you. As you can see, I’m a bit slower than my first leg. Part of the reason is because it took me 7:20 to complete the first mile. I felt so stiff having waited around so long between legs. It didnt help that the course was mostly uphill. But at this point in the race, you begin to pass the slower teams who took off hours before you did. You are running in the dark and all the sudden, about 50 yards ahead, you see these blinky lights and a reflector vest. Closer. Closer, and then you pass a runner. Then a second. On this stretch of Texas nowhere I passed four runners.

Leg 28: 3.56 miles in 23:41. Pace 6:39 min/mile: I was so glad to see a short run. So glad. Before this run, it took me 20 minutes just to warm up. Again, run a 10k or a run at 10k pace, sit around for five hours, and tell me if you feel like running.
Leg 38: 6.39 miles in 47:45. Pace 7:28 min/mile: My leg was only supposed to be 6 miles. I got lost running through Pasadena. This course had the most turns of any other Leg in the relay. I tried to carry a map with me, but its hard to read and run. Still, 4 miles into the leg, I’m doing ok. Had already decided I wasn’t going to try to stay under 7s. Too tired. Just wanted to enjoy this last leg. All of a sudden, I’m in a really scary neighborhood, with lawns undone, cars on jacks, pockmarked streets. And then, this car creeps up behind me, then it pulls up next to me. Guy rolls down his window. I’m thinking, ‘Oh, shit.’ He pokes his head out and says, “Hey, man, all the runners turned back there.”
Turns out, I’d gone about a quarter of a mile down the wrong street. Found out later I should have turned on Austin Street, of all names.
At this point in the run, I totally gave up trying to even keep a sub 7:30 pace and cruised the rest of the way in.

I have to say this is relay was almost as hard as running a marathon. Almost. If degree of difficulty for a marathon is a 10 compared to running a 5K, 10k, etc. Then this relay is an 8.

And I’m ready to run another one.

We came across another great blog post from Hot Dads. Read the article.

For the past month I have been so excited that we finally got into a house, after I have spent the past 10 years in apartments. Sure we don’t own it, but so what. We can walk out the front door and step out onto a huge porch, and what is this, low and behold, grass. Our own mini field of grass. It’s like freeken’ Christmas came early, errr late, whatever. My boy can just run outside and start

We came across another great blog post from Juggling Eric. Read the article.

Because you all four people demanded it. It’s the return of the feature my wife and mother in law are sure to hate.

Do you want your baby featured in “Babies in Beards“?? Because honestly, this can only go so far before I shelf it again, right?? Email me a link of your baby you want me to beard. C’mon, show a little child deprecation. They’ll get over it. It might take years of counseling, but live in the now.

Have a great day my friends.

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I need constant approval. Can you please click through the link and leave a comment. If you don’t, my children will cry.

We came across another great blog post from Always Home and Uncool. Read the article.

My Love has been trying to persuade me to take up jogging since shortly after we first met which, I feel compelled to point out, was at a keg party.

In those days, she’d arise at an hour still better suited for last call than lacing up one’s Sauconys and by the time the sun had even considered peeping out from under its earthly covers, she would have already logged half a dozen miles. Not an attractive trait in my book of love, but I admit that I did admire the dividends her regimen paid in other — ahem — areas that grabbed my attention during the early stages of the mating ritual.

In the 17 years we’ve know each other since, she’s run marathons in Honolulu, Chicago, Washington, D.C., and New York City and half marathons elsewhere. To me, these are all certifiable acts of insanity or, at the very least, signs she needs a more stimulating and purposeful hobby. Re-grouting bathroom tile, for example, also has a clear starting and ending point, offers great emotional and physical satisfaction upon completion and results in very similar aches and pains in the lower extremities.

I have tried jogging before. My Love and some co-workers conned me into running a 5K many years back. After only a few practice runs, it felt as though John Daly had lined a tee shot directly into the side of my left knee. I eventually ran the race, but my knee stayed cranky for months afterward and that’s where my running career hit the wall.

(This is the point when whenever I tell this story that My Love shakes her head and calls me something endearing like "wuss." Running, it is clear, does not build one’s empathy toward the lame.)

Sometime early last year, though, I found myself forced into an occasional run that for once had nothing to do about the urgency to reach an unoccupied bathroom.

I blame our dog, Murphy.

While on our walks, our 3-year-old Labrador retriever, sometimes decides he’d rather be going in a different direction if not going at all. When these moments hit, he simply locks all four legs in "park" or just lies down all together. Since modern dog training methods frown on yanking a dog into mobility and physically lifting Murphy, who weighs about 75 pounds, offers only a solution for the literal short haul, an alternative had to be found.

This is when I’d take a treat, hold it inches from his snout then pull it back while uttering the words I never thought I’d say aloud, with any sense of enthusiasm, to man or beast:

"OK — let’s go for a run!"

These were short burst semi-sprints: a few dozen feet to maybe a few dozen yards at a time. During the winter, when the golf course by our neighborhood lay deserted except for northern winds and rotting snow, Murphy’s leash would be detached and we’d run the odd fairway or two.

When I mentioned this to My Love, her face brightened like a child on Christmas morning. I told her not to get carried away by this. I said it again after my subsequent decision to purchase a pair of running shoes for it could just be a passing phase like that time I was fascinated by mutton chop sideburns.

Spring, summer and fall went by without anything more than my occasional run to jumpstart the pup. Then three weeks ago, in the dead of New England winter, I did it. I hopped onto our treadmill in the toasty basement and put in a little more than a mile.

Twice.

I did it again last week.

Once I even did a mile and a half, picking up the pace so it was less of a brisk walk and more of a vague approximation of an ungainly trot.

I can’t say I loved it, but I definitely didn’t loathe it, either.

Hallelujah! I’ve achieved indifference!

That’s the same as an endorphin high, right?

We came across another great blog post from Hot Dads. Read the article.

I am going to start by saying that I am a firm believer in organization, preparedness and all around just having my shit together.With the kids in school and the house quite during the day…I thought that I’d get back into the swing of our ‘school year schedule.’ The kids are gone from 8AM until about 4 every day and we finally have time to get things done. Well… at least that is what is