I missed you guys too...

A little nervous on my new bike...

It's been a while, the weather has since turned frightful and I fear I may have to finally buy a pair of boots and take this whole Wisconsinite thing in earnest.  We are in store for a nice little blizzardgeddon.  I am prepared.  My father in law was all too nice and dropped off a snow blower and true to Wisconsin Packer form even my snow blower is green and gold.  The boys are excited to enjoy the winter weather.  The last time we had snow the pooch was afraid to walk or use the facilities in the fluffy white stuff forcing me to shovel him a restroom every time it snowed, along with a path to get there.  Gavin was just born and oblivious to the powder around him and Quentin was to afraid to even join me in a sled.  I, of course, was nearly allergic after so many years in Florida.  We all seemed to have taken on a new flake, as the case may be and look forward to skidding down the roadway tomorrow on our way to our respective schools or work locations, which all assure us will "be running as normal."  Hooray!

I have too much to catch up on.  Since I've been gone our eldest turned four and had a smashing good time with his Hulk themed birthday party.  Martha Stewart, my lovely wife, hand made a Hulkster pinata, party favors, hulk juice and pin the anger on the Hulk.  Okay, that last part was a little sarcasm.  She put a lot of green together and Quinny loved it.  The weather was unusually warm for Thanksgiving weekend and we gave him his first two wheeler so he was able to get some practice in before it cooled back down.  It took him a while to warm up to it but by the end of that Saturday he looked at the training wheels, back at me and asked, "Dad, can we take these things off now?"  Priceless.  I love his perseverance - it means never giving up, Dad.

I'm 5 (35, really)!

Just a handful of days later, on my half birthday, truly our best friend, Stinks turned 5.  He's right on my heels now and only a month or two behind me in age.  I should finally be able to wear him out.  I hope we get many more years of companionship with the Luckster as he's a fantastic part of the family.  The boys are able to use him as a stepping stool nearly every day and he never gets mad.  He only asks you wrestle (pronounced "wrastle)" with him once or twice a day in the evening after the boys go to bed.  Most nights I try to happily indulge him.  He can be found most days under Carrie's desk as she works from home keeping her feet warm and her heart warmer. 

After the festivities of Thankspigging, the most enjoyable of all holidays, died down we came up with, not the most original, but ingenious way to kill a Saturday during winter; host an ugly sweater party.  Friends, let me tell you, you must, must, must indulge in a night of such fancy.  We got together with our closest idiot friends, donned our ugliest best, went to the finest restaurant in town, a mansion on the lake, also on the national historic registry, enjoyed too many libations, ate until sufficiently gorged, and then stayed up too late enjoying the amusement of it all.  I forgot the entire restaurant staff voted including the piano player/singer, whom never actually stopped playing from the moment we walked in to vote (and toast!) the ugliest and a secondary award the ugliest that one would still wear.  But, alas, your literary entertainer painfully took a close third.  But the ol' noggin' has already been working over time for next year.  On top of our sweet, sweet sweaters, the Baker House, our place of fine dining offers a hat upon your liking when walking in to complete your simpleton attire.  It was quite an enjoyable evening.

I give you....great friends!!

And just in case the end of the world happens, and clearly, we are embarking on the end of the world I will write an homage to Earth tomorrow so everyone (please read before midnight Thursday night) can take one final read at the literary masterpiece that is this blog before meeting the certain doom that ensues.  Stay classy, my friends.

Thankspigging 2012

Geared up...

I love the Thanksgiving. What a great holiday! Let me help you walk through how incredible Thanksgiving is so you can appreciate this awesomest of awesome holidays. Too many people waste their time thinking about Black Friday, Christmas, getting the tree up and a myriad of other way too stressful moments of the holiday season to sit back, pound some adult beverages, stuff your face, oh the face stuffing! and watching football while succuluntly surplanted on the well used American behind (I love this country!).  Allow me to take you on the journey of Spiegelhoff ThanksPigging, the greatest of great American holidays. 

It all starts with pajamas.  Do you think the Pilgrims pressed their shirts before making nice with the neighbors and feasting on the local wildlife? No, they woke up in feety pajamas, started a fire and grabbed a bottle of home-made-presumably-corn-infused-whiskey (I love America!) and enjoyed a sip before watching their favorite team dominate (Go Pack Go!) or a team they despise (Lions?? - it's just a minor subliminal suggestion, a major one would've been the Bears!) lose.  It's Thankspigging people! 

This is where the outstanding grocery shopping comes in.  If you don't have an entire feast of appetizers for Thankspigging you have failed, my friend.  Thankspigging is about calorie intake.  You need 56 ounces of peanut M&M's for your guests.  Pie!  Lots of pie!  Candy, chips, dips, more candy and chocolate.  Have some chocolate!  Guests and family want to come to your house and eat until they burst.  Make them comfortable so they don't have to be embarrassed when it happens, as in, start your day by hosting in your sweats.  Believe it!  Which, brings me back to pajamas.  Don't waste your time dressing in your Sunday's best.  This is Thursday!  They made this magnificent holiday on a Thursday so you can save that pressed shirt for Sunday.  Pilgrims - we'll always be indebted to our forefathers.

So we start with a handful of deliciousness; taco dip, nothing says I'm thankful like taco dip, followed by an alarming amount of Wisconsin cheese even by dairyland standards, your typical chips and chili cheese dip, some shrimp (we can still pull this off in Wisco right?), and finally some deftly deviled eggs.  Oh, my lord!  Can I get an amen!?! 

Thankspigging is in full motion. The sweet potatoes have been sweetened, the potatoes have been sufficiently smashed and the gravy was proficiently doused with a brimming amount of culinary homage to Mr. Gobbler.  At this point the Lions are losing by 17, the turkey's bouquet of odoriferous seasonings has even the most arduous vegetarian begging for a nibble of nefarious nectar.  It's time to take your Wisconsin or Packer's, as the case may be, apron off and begin the delectable Thankspigging binge. Oh, how I do love America.

Prom for Dudes - Part I

Shedding a Packer tear...

Stumbled upon the greatest moment in Wisconsin Man-hood; Prom for Dudes.  I might be a little older than your typical prom goer, but trust me I had more than enough enthusiasm to best the most copious hormonal junior in High School.  I fell backasswards into a man's dream; I discovered the quarter life man's prom.  It all started with a coworker that held the holy grail of Wisconsin, Packer's season tickets.  Now, these weren't just any old tickets. These were tickets passed down through generations until they fell into that lovely, soon to retire lady that sits behind me at work.  These were 50 yard line seats in row 45. I had one day to purchase these sweet sweet sirens of the north.  I didn't even have to work some crappy $4.50 an hour job over the summer to come up with the scratch.  Being old has a few advantages. 

The plan was set.  I invited my wife, a fail safe, to get away with nearly anything yet still behave myself well enough to stay out of the clink for the evening.  Curiously, the Packers have a policy that if you are intoxicated you will be asked to leave the game "if your intoxication results in irresponsible behavior."  Oh, Wisconsin, you're so true to your German roots.  To seal the deal we went with some college friends to ensure an awe-inspiring good time.  And there is one thing about old skool friends that now have kids too - you don't waste opportunities like Prom for Dudes.  They took the initiative to rent a limo.  Now, that's some terrifyingly formidable friends.  We're not talking about some pansy limo, AKA a van with some loser driver, we're talking a stretch 13 passenger Chrysler 300 pimp-mobile with a driver named Big Poppa.  Kablamo!

It was daylight savings the Saturday before, which meant I would lose an extra hour of sleep because a man can't sleep when the next day is Prom for Dudes.  We went out on Saturday night for a steak dinner to get the proper base. I awoke at 2, 3, 4, and finally just threw in the towel at 5 and got up. (You know a typical day at the Spiegelhoff household). The limo arrived a little before 7am.  Me, already dressed in head to toe green. Was it too early for face paint?  Wife, shaking head in disapproval.  Me, Prom for Dudes!!  We took great pains to pack the limo's trunk, front seat and 4 of the unnecessary 13 seats with coolers, bags, grills, chairs, two tailgating tables (believe it) and 4 pounds of bacon-cheddar-jalapeno-brats.  Did I mention the limo driver was in a tux?  He knew it was Prom for Dudes.  Seriously, I can't even make this stuff up!  Simply put this was going to be an epic adventure. We hit the road by 7 and opened the first bottle of champagne for breakfast.  See, there was something for the wives.  Wasn't this just like the honeymoon? Limo, champagne...!?!  Oh, Prom for Dudes, how I love the way you treat a man.

Flyover for National Anthem...pretty sweet

The champagne was quickly washed down with delicious green and gold jello shots.  Say it with me, Go-Pack-Go! I wonder if one could get a job being a Prom for Dudes planner.  Hmmm, whole new career on the horizon?  The limo ride quickly got us to Lambeau Field (say with a really deep voice and all kinds of dramatics).  It was a crisp radiant morning; a perfect autumn day for football.  The kind of day where you grab a Sprecher out of the cooler by 10 and say, "Man, this is an exceptional day to be a, DUDE!"  We got the grill started, threw the kraut on and started the baggo tourney.  We might have been making a little bit of a scene, taking up 2 tailgating spots with the limo and all but let's face it, this was Prom for Dudes! 

After pounding three courses of meat, cheese and a delicious assortment of Wisconsin's finest adult beverages we made our way through the turnstiles.  I decided, with so many layers on, but no coat, (I'm a man baby!) I would smuggle in a handful of jello shots.  I totally underestimated security upon walking in, which turned out to be legitimate 5-0.  Captain crime fighter grabbed a hold of my pouch, which was laced with gloves hoping to cover up the offending contraband, but alas this donut commander had me dead to rights.  The fuzz asks, "what's that?"  Me, "(sheepishly and my best confused look) uhhhh, jello shots (incredulously???)" Po-Po, "ah, forget it, just go."  Me, "ahahahahahahaha....Prom for DUDES!!!!" The legend continues! 

I'll leave Part II for tomorrow...

Gavin's Birthday

Belated, certainly, but better late than never.  Tonight pumpkin carvin'.  Stay tuned...

We haven't had too many opportunities to open our doors to a myriad of rambunctious kids to run loose on our homestead gorging on sugar provided by yours truly while trying to maintain some sort of control so at the very least death doesn't ensue to one of our guests.  In short hosting a birthday party for a two year old is similar to owning a pool and watching people that have a solid handle on the doggy paddle do back flips off your diving board.  (This blog, regardless of similarities has no reference to real or fictional people).  Within 20 minutes of opening the door the place was filled with joyful noise, toys littering the room and candy wrappers strewn about the place like a minor nuclear weapon had exploded in our home.  All in the name of turning 2!

Gavin woke up at dawn like it was Christmas morning. The boy knew it was his day and he wasn't going to waste a second.  He began the morning, like usual on Saturdays, kicking dad in the face because he was sleeping in my bed instead of his own.  After making sure I couldn't sleep past 5:30 am he decided on a breakfast of waffles with a side of candle.  The kid had to practice making wishes and blowing out candles so he was prepped for his big afternoon.  Coincidentally I went back and checked the tape of Q and he spent his morning blowing out a giant candle on his pancakes over and over.

Gavin got geared up for the Wisco game and then happily watched as the Badgers dismantled the hapless Boilmakers into submission before noon.  The first birthday present! He hit the sack to get some pre-party shut-eye because he knew the raging was going to explode around 3 and wanted to look his rested best.  When the first guest arrived, Etta, he knew it was go time.  She, sporting her pretties, pony tails for girls around 2, and a stunning outfit of leggings, tutu and pink blouse, he in a Badger red sweatshirt and jeans .  There was definitely a moment there.  Too soon?  I mean the kid is two, he has to start some time. The grandparents, aunts, uncles, great aunts, great grandparents, more hotties and bros filed in picking up their birthday favors of dino-rings, tattoos, candy, balloons and kazoos.

We allowed the initial sugar high to settle in and opened up the house to playing.  After the first buzz started wearing down we moved into a competitive game of pin the cranium on the fossilized T-Rex.  We went with the dino theme because Gavin loves dinos and received lots to play with

We then decided it was time for sugar buzz number and two and unleashed the dino-cake.  We somehow managed to cram all two candles on the surface of the brontosaurus with only a minor objection from the herbivore.  Gavin huffed and puffed but couldn't blow that candle out.  We took a minor time out, moved the cake closer to Gavin and success!  We had a newly minted two year old and a wish was granted. 

We haven't had a birthday so close to family before so there was an influx of toys.  To provide the proper visual I'm going to have to ask you to use your imagination. Close your eyes, go back to 2nd or 3rd grade, remember writing that letter to Santa and now instead of childhood disappointment act like you received twice of everything you asked for.  All your friends were jealous - that was like Sunday morning, the day after.  Our kids played and played all rainy day with the new gifts they scored from all their friends and family.  Thanks to everyone for making Gavin's second birthday such a success!

Synergetic blogger?

My wife thinks she found the mom version of my blog.  You can find it here: http://www.momaical.com/.  The writer does have some pretty sweet wit.  She's a left coaster, though by transplant, so she uses a little more potty mouth than I but if you can roll with the PG-13 market it's worth a look.  I have only read a few posts but there is a pretty stinking hilarious bout with her local squirrel population complete with a shot of the momaical herself sporting a bottle of Jack (all bubbles - get it?) and a gun trying to get even.  And they say Cali is all liberal.  Little do they know about suburban mom's going all gangsta on the pesky wildlife.  Hit up the billionaire post as well.  If you have an email address you'll find it's worth the read.  I'll add her to the list of bloggers to your left.  Happy Friday! 

A Word to the MAN...

When you wake up on a crisp Tuesday morning before the sun rises as the Earth continues its awful rotation to darker and darker pastures you don't often ponder, today is the day I get an opportunity to stick it to the Man.  Today, on Stick it to the Man Tuesday, also Taco Tuesday down at the In the Drink a close and favorite watering hole, my wonderful, fantastic, super-duper awesome wife decided we would make it Super Spiegelhoff winning Tuesday. No, no, we don't care about Romney and his childhood with seven mom's growing up in Mexico where polygamy was legal. I'm talking about an old fashioned show down with the Tax Man.  You know this brings me back a little.  When I was seven and motoring through the second grade our teacher asked us what we wanted to be when we grew up.  I said I wanted to be awesome.  A dreamer, I know.  But the dork in the corner, Myron said, "When I grow up I want to be a tax assessor."  That was met with spitballs and interestingly 30 years later the tax man gets the same response. 

I note my wife was wonderful, fantastic, super-duper awesome because she received the letter saying, after we bought our a little northern cabin to escape the heat of the south to endure, excuse me, I mean enjoy a nice snowy freezing winter beginning in early October, said they (from this point on "they" known as the MAN) were raising our property taxes.  I remember coming home that day and remarking to my model-hot wife how that made perfect sense.  You know with all the home buying going on and the robust economy it was clearly logical that our house was going up in value 120 days after we purchased it.  It was slightly shocking, mostly since our house in Florida is worth about 70% less than the day we bought it, that in 120 days it had gone up in value $100,000.  Who could argue with results though!  I told the wife to not worry about a thing.  I got a realtor on speed dial and we're absolutely fantastic at moving and with all that extra cash in our pocket we could probably foreclose on our house in Tampa and buy it back within the same week in cold hard cash baby!!  Sometimes good fortune just falls right in your lap.

However, after coming down from that short but enjoyable psychotic escapade she explained to me how we either bought the nicest house in all of Lake Geneva or some drunk accountant accidentally added three zeros to our tax assessment.  You don't think they simply want more tax revenue for the coffers do you?  She decided she wanted to fight.  That's my girl! So, she diligently prepared for a showdown with the MAN and town board.  She researched comparable properties, figured cost per square foot, got a massage, formulated and perfected her prose for the big stage and with that we were off for our high 2pm show down.  C'mon it was close to noon.

We arrived a prompt ten minutes early but in typical government fashion, with no one else in the room, they waited until precisely the clock struck 2:02 to ask if we were indeed the "objectors."  Sir, I object! Too early? Right, right, we have to be sworn in.  This was gonna be fun! They explained the rules of engagement, swore us in, told us we were on candid camera, just kidding, told us they were taping this and off we ran.  Holy cow what an education!  I am nearly certain I could make a small fortune explaining to people how best to beat the tax man.  Please deposit $5 via paypal to continue reading the rest of this blog.  Seriously, did you deposit the money?  Okay, but I'm totally trusting you.  The honor system - still works!

It goes like this.  We get to go first, since we're the objectors.  We make our argument, present our evidence (it turns out you don't get your evidence back so do yourself a favor and make copies), then the board asks you questions, then the tax MAN gets his turn, presents his evidence (totally unprepared for my industriously zealous wife), woefully said he was finished and BAM! decision time.  There was much discussion. The board was unashamedly flirting with my wife at this point when yes, this actually happened, the tax MAN explained they couldn't just choose a more reasonable figure for our house.  They had to either say we were right and give us the named price we stated during our opening arguments or say we were wrong and, shiver, the tax MAN was right.  Holy @&#%!!  We missed that part of the instructions, because we clearly used the same method as the tax MAN to come up with our estimate - we arbitrarily made it up with what we deemed fair.  But, on Stick it to the Man Tuesday the tax God's were shining on my majestic wife. And it was shining bright, my friends. Kablamo! Board loves my wife. Tax MAN goes down swinging in a 10 round TKO. Shazam! We're rich, or rather we officially pay less in taxes.  And that is how you stick it to the MAN my friends.  And since this blog had nothing to do with my kids, here is a picture of them wearing their underwear on their heads. Kablamo!

Parent Rap

I haven't done too many of these posts but I received a link to this sweet rap made by parents that are simply keeping it real.  Bah-lieve it.

You have to check it - especially if you are a parent.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N_NspDWssIY

If you have kids, especially little ones you'll feel every beat. Word.

Hulk Smash!

Before I begin about the Hulkamania happening at Casa de Spiegelhoff I thought I would let you know I'm on the twitter.  I haven't figured out the fascination with Facebook yet and I'm secretly holding out hope that after 6 billion users, people will finally realize it's not that cool. (If everyone else is doing it, it's not cool anymore.  Don't you remember high school!?)  The Twitter, though, now that's some sweet entertainment in 140 character or less.  Become a tweep and I'll tweet out the blogs.  Those easily offended should probably stay off the twitter.  Those who enjoy sarcasm hit me up on the twitter and be instantly aware of the blog - even before Google.

What are YOU lookin' at?!

On Friday we had a bonfire for the kiddos and some friends, which meant Care was drinking beers and roasting s'mores half the night while I was trying to get the kids to bed well after their bed time. It's a thankless job, I know.  Eventually they fell a sleep only to wake up the next morning to get invited to two more bonfires and one pig roast.  Sheesh! The pig roast had a bounce house which allowed our bouncing boys to go bonkers for hours, which coincidentally enough, is also the secret to a good night's sleep.  I know what you're thinking and I'm already one step ahead of you.  It turns out those things are a little pricey to own.  I was told $2,500.  It sort of seems like a lot.  Then you think, hmmmm, I haven't slept through the night all but 20 times in the last 4 years so all of a sudden $2,500 seems like the deal of the century.  Maybe Santa will cram a bounce house through the chimney.  C'mon Santa I've been a good boy this year I promise!

After devouring the pig and I mean some serious two-fisting hog gobbling there was a pinata.  You have no idea how a few beers, a baseball bat and some candy wrapped up in some paper mache can set a crowd off.  There was near rioting to take some Babe Ruth swings at this thing.  You know the Sultan of Swat!? It was an absolute fantastic way to blow twelve bucks.  They make those pinatas stronger than you think.  NAFTA, apparently good for something.  After numerous turns and some pretty sweet compliments for the hulking size (totally foreshadowing here readers) of Q such as, "That kid is only 3? What are you feeding that beast?!" From a dad's perspective those comments never get old so keep em' coming. In the end we punched the pinata to death.  The bat broke before the pinata did (that's the trade agreement with China...)We all have to go in our own way.  Finally the candy came raining down so the kiddos could get one last sugar high before heading out for the night.

Now that brings us to Sunday.  I have to say I'm a little exhausted writing about the weekend so you can imagine what it's like to eat all this food, socialize with all these people, drink their beer and try to remain skinny.  That's why we call it Wisconsin-skinny folks.  We have to skew the definition a little bit.  Sweatshirt weather is here to hide your six pack, nope not that one- now you've got it, that one so you have what? nine months of winter to work off that extra bonfire 20 pounds.  Exactly.  So, Sunday we head out to Applefest.  We drive out to the orchard where they provide free (capitalism taking a backseat for family fun? whoa!) radio flyer wagons - so awesome! and you can pick your own apples and pumpkins.  They even had hayrides, a live band, cider, donuts, bounce houses, crafts and even the Packers accommodated by playing the late game.  I love it when the NFL cooperates. (Let's not discuss last Monday and the Seattle game when the NFL decidedly did not want to cooperate).  So we bought more food and are officially ready for Halloween.

Once we returned home I suited up for the game and Care headed out with the boys to try on costumes.  Q eventually settled on, as he states it, Hulk Smash.  He makes, and I'll be honest here, a pretty terrifying awesome face, flexes muscles and begins smashing things.  Could a dad be any prouder?  He came home, put it on and essentially has been wearing it ever since, mask and all.  He puts it on when he crawls out of bed before school and he puts it on when he comes home from school.  He's even putting it on after bath time for the few minutes before bed time.  It's pretty sweet.  Gavin is going with the cheeseburger theme.  He's not as excited to be sporting lettuce and tomato but he looks pretty sweet too.  The bun adds 10 pounds so cut the kid some slack if you see him trick o' treating.

This blog is too long or I would tell you about how we went to back to back Brewer games on Monday and Tuesday.  I can't even make this stuff up.  Stay tuned...

Closing Time

Had a heavy dose of winter shock yesterday after work.  We had a nice day in the upper 70s with abundant sunshine.  On the way home from work I drove by the lake to see boaters enjoying the first sun filled days of fall.  Yes, it's autumn, officially (9/22).  Before bonfire season starts in earnest we had to go through the logical step of closing the pool. In my ever flowing optimistic state I some how convinced myself there would be plenty of swimming opportunities well into October.  Mother nature vehemently disagreed with me slapping us with mid-30s over the weekend.  After receiving the utility bills for heating the pool it was decided it's closing time.  Nothing like a financial jolt to get rid of that optimism and send you back into that blissful pessimistic state we all love.  When I drove up to our vacation home in the north and saw the dark green cover firmly attached, covering the pool it was like seeing a blizzard for the first time.  There is shock, followed by awe, followed by depression when you realize you have to start shoveling.  I changed into shorts, sat in a recliner conveniently placed in the middle of the driveway (a whole other posting) and enjoyed a comfortable evening cocktail staring in disbelief at where my gorgeous turquoise water once laid only hours before. 

As one activity comes to a close others will surely take their place and fall weddings is one.  The family was fortunate to be close enough to attend a cousin's wedding in Iowa this past weekend so we packed up the family wagon, grabbed the pooch and headed west (over the river {literally} and through the woods to Grandma's house we went).  We decided on a midnight road trip and drove through the night.  Eventually the boys went to sleep and even the Stinks rested his furry little head and got some shut eye.  Meanwhile Carrie and I were discussing Romney's three wives and driving through a hail storm.  We had no damage but even if there was I know a great insurance guy.  After roughly four hours we solved the world's financial crisis, won a heated game of "I spy" and arrived at Grandma's house.

We attended the wedding Saturday afternoon while the dismal Hawkeyes blew a game on the gridiron and the keep it close with poor teams Badgers narrowly pulled out a win against UTEP, yes that football powerhouse UTEP.  We had a delicious lunch at the Getaway Bar and Grill, which was one ginormous basket of everything fried; mini-tacos, cheese curds, jalapeno poppers, mushrooms and mozzarella sticks to name a few and picked up the kids for the reception, which was at the same location as our very own wedding reception.  We sang, we danced, we ate cake and my poor child was body slammed to the dance floor by some mean, mean girls.  See video. 

Here my kid is doing his best impression of front man Agnes Young of AC/DC rocking out and making the rounds on the dance floor when out of nowhere a pack of girls conspired to use the momentum of both of them to take out my unsuspecting, song loving, wedding rocking, dancing with the stars champion, which plastered him to the parquet floor.  After his up close and personal view of the floor Gavin officially retired for the evening after sobbing uncontrollably for ten minutes he decided to call it an evening and promptly fell asleep.  It was closing time.

Where have I been???

Gavin's 1st carnie ride

Apparently one of the pros/cons of moving to Wisco is you have too much to do with so many people you know around that increases your body mass and decreases your blogging time.  This is probably the longest I've gone without writing a blog.  If it's any consolation I have written several in my head and even typed out a few but haven't had the time to publish them.  I debated just calling it quits, but it's been fun and with winter looming in the distance I thought I would have more free time and would hopefully get back to writing a handful a month. 

Just to give you a run down of the last few weekends, we had Venetian Festival, which is a Wednesday thru Sunday Lake Geneva event with live music, carnival rides, games and a beer tent put on by the Jaycee's, of which I'm a member.  That translated means I was a bartender (serving/drinking beer for charity - what beats that!?!?) all week.  We even squeaked in a wedding on Friday that weekend 2 hours out of town.  So I was working all day and playing all night.  On Sunday the event culminated with a 50th anniversary of the festival fireworks display followed immediately after by a torrential down pour sending everyone mad scrambling for their cars parked 10 blocks away.  We got soaked but the beer was free all week.  And it wasn't Keystone.  We had 12 beers on tap including Spotted Cow, Totally Naked (ain't Wisco grand!?), Sprecher's and Lake Geneva's very own Wake IPA to name a few.

The next weekend was a fintanstic weekend with Jimmy Buffett making an appearance at Alpine Valley, the single greatest venue to see a Buffett show in all the world.  I dare you to prove otherwise.  There is no charge for parking and the lots open at 2pm for an 8 pm concert.  That equates into far too old people putting together incredibly creative displays of margarita-prirate-shark-parrot themed attire.  We saw a dude walking around in a grass skirt.  No, that was all he had on.  A grass skirt.  They don't make them go all 360 for dudes so you know, well, let your imagination work its magic.  There were squirt guns loaded with not water.  No, no, no, this is Jimmy.  They were loaded with Tequila.  Get it?  You get shot with a shot of tequila.  I, decked out in my grass skirt, coconut bra, parrot hat and leis helped pave the way for my in-laws to spend their 40th wedding anniversary with Jimmy.  Ah, true love.  If you haven't been, by all means get there.  Jimmy's not getting any younger.

The weekend after that was Labor day and the county fair was going on.  Here school doesn't start until after labor day because the local businesses need the high school/college kids in the workforce through the weekend. So the boys had a couple of days at the fair riding the rides, checking out the farm animals and stuffing their faces with high caloric deliciousness like deep fried chocolate covered bacon.  Seriously, it's Wisconsin-skinny around these parts.  We were fortunate enough to attend the Florida State Fair this year too.  Strangely, the food was the same. We have bigger cows and a lot more cheese but they were nearly identical.  It was like finding out the Easter Bunny isn't real.  All fair food can't be the same can it? 

I'll try to do better with the blog writing.  Q and I had a little man weekend this past weekend as Care was whooping it up at a bachelorette party.  All I heard was her going on an on about some dude named Magic Mike. I almost blurted out who the H is Magic Mike but then I realized some things are better left unsaid.  I'll get another blog out this week but I do have a Brewer game tonight, the Packers on Thursday night and the Badger game on Saturday.  Living here definitely has some perks.

It's a man weekend

Buds

We had ourselves a little man weekend while the wife was away having another WWW weekend. The WWW stands for Weekend Without and I'll let your third grade imagination run wild with the last W but in essence it's an estrogen party. Us boys, we partied it up while the wife was away. Finally a weekend with no curfew, no one cutting you off too soon and no one cooking you a hot meal, tucking you into bed, or getting up in the middle of the night with your screaming child. Who needs that?! It was time to run around in your drawers, belch as much as you want and let the occasional flatulence loose without a hint of embarrassment. We were celebrating manhood.

Fashionistas

It started off with the boys getting dressed by themselves. There was no one here to tell them they needed to match or to pick clothes out for them. Whatever they wanted to wear was fine with me. Q chose a nice black ensemble. The highlight? An extra large Jack Daniels T-shirt. Oh, to be three again! Gavin, also went with the extra large T-shirt - these boys are a growing! but decided a giant pig was more his style, a pig playing golf. They're getting so mature. It almost brings a tear to your eye.

We stayed up too late, but mostly because it needs to be dark out to blow stuff up. Blowing stuff up during the day can be fun but to get that full explosive effect you really need the cover of darkness or at least dusk so we stayed up a little past our bed time. It started with sparklers but we quickly moved into tanks, bottle rockets and small mortars. Quinny wore his spiderman PJs in case things got out of control and we needed to be rescued. Plus his spidysense would be able to sense danger a wee bit ahead of time to thwart any potential forest fires. For full disclosure purposes there was a minor grass fire but we had plenty of water and it was quickly extinguished. What? We barely have a lawn anyway with the total lack of rain and the 100+ temps here in Tempe, Arizona.

Sunday morning it was raining. God knows we needed the rain, but when you start your day at 5:30 you plan, baby and Daddy didn't plan for it to rain so he was woefully unprepared to have the boys inside all morning. We were going to do a little park action, followed by walk down to the lake and then a little fishing. What we ended up with was candy for breakfast, a spitting contest that ended prematurely when Gavin spit his bah (pacifier) into the toilet (spittoon) and retrieved with lightning quickness only to reapply to his face. Please, everyone, a collective eeeeewwwwwe. Thank-you. That was followed by a trip to the mouthwash station and on to the dump for the bah to find its final resting place. RIP, bah.

The beginnings of a pyromaniac?

I then used reverse psychology to trick them into cleaning. Ya, cleaning's fun. Here you run the swiffer. You run the vacuum and daddy will supervise drinking his coffee. We actually stripped 3 beds, did 3 loads of laundry, vacuumed 4 rooms, two rugs and poorly swiffered the wood floors. C'mon Gavin, pull your weight! We found 4 bahs, buried one so we're plus three!

We followed that relatively successful activity up with something tamer - art projects. I know, I know many of you didn't think I had it in me but I can plan a decent art project as well as the next dude home alone with two kids under age 3 with little to no art training that scored a solid C, which is totally average, people, in school. We made rocket ships. That's right, rocket ships. We cut, pasted, painted and flew our sweet, sweet rocket ships. One might say they were out of this world. Believe it.

The basement...AWESOME!

This brought us up to about 9:30 am. I know, it doesn't seem possible, but trust me it is. Gavin has a solid attention span of roughly four minutes, unless he's breaking something, which is approximately 68% of the time, in which case that can fluctuate from 30 seconds to 10 minutes depending on how flexible the item he's bending into oblivion. Books have an especially short lifespan. Quinny is around 3 1/2 so his attention span is a solid 7 minutes making him much easier to entertain.

We then, thankfully, rediscovered the basement. Oh, Mr. Unfinished Basement and your endless possibilities. I blew up an old swimming pool. The one we have now is, I'll totally ballpark it, 672 times larger and doesn't take 2 days to blow up with 3 minor blackouts.  I was only unconscious for a couple of minutes. Right, 9:32 am, and we're in the basement. The pool, no not that one, the tiny one, try and stay with me, doubles as a bouncehouse. It's not super safe but we have excellent liability insurnace. It's one of the perks of having a mid-life career change. So we bounced in our psuedo-bounce-house for 6 minutes, built a tower out of legos, destroyed said tower, I'm racking my brain for what activity can we possibly do next when suddenly like Moses receiving the 10 commandments from Mount Sinai the clouds parted, the sun peaked through and can I get an AMEN!? we could go oustside again! Hallejulia! Finally, we can just chuck some life jackets on these kids, grab a brewski and float the day away. Man-weekend. It really was that awesome. I'm not sure if you've seen the Hangover but if you have I have a string of pictures just like that of the weekend and they are hilarious. If you haven't seen it, you probably shouldn't. It's a little too shocking for most of you. Don't even google it. Seriously, don't.

PS  No one pooped in the tub (Including this guy)

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Lucky, you stink!

Had a crazy week with the 4th of July on a Wednesday.  Leap year is killing me!  You go out have a good time over the weekend, work two days, have a solid 1 day weekend, work two days and then it's the weekend again??  How is one supposed to get used to that?  Too weird!  We had Carrie's folks come up Tuesday afternoon and spend the majority of the week with us.  We had a good time using the pool into the wee hours Tuesday night, mostly to make sure the pool lights work.  We might have held some late-night swim races too.  I'm proud to say I'm an underwater champion in the sub-12 beer category! 

We hadn't planned on seeing a professional fireworks show because the boys are still too little to go through all that hassle; being up that late, dealing with crowds and that's not to mention the 100+ temps.  We moved to Arizona! There was a total burn ban including charcoal grills and no fireworks!  In a salute to this great country, while also sticking it to the man, we bought some fireworks and lit them anyway.  Let freedom ring-KA-BOOM! While we were doing that we heard the fireworks going off down by the lake so like a normal American we jumped in the SUV, drove straight down to the lake, parked on the grass and with the car/AC running watched 3 professional displays from our vantage.  It was great.  No hassle, no planning and no sweating!

But to get back to the title of this post, we had another night-swim adventure because the first one went so well so we had a redo on Friday night.  There weren't any races this time around but we still had a good time.  Around 11 O'clock we were getting ready to head in and decided to let Lucky out for his bedtime wazzer.  I'm putting some last minute items away in the garage and I can see him going after something in the bushes.  We more or less live in the country so for him to come across some local wildlife isn't strange. (I had to stop for a spotted baby fawn and momma to cross the road on the way to work this week).  He ends up cornering this thing under the two steps to get into the side door.  I'm sort of paying attention but it's dark and I can't see what he has.  Clearly, it's small, like smaller than a raccoon, so I'm not overly concerned and getting pre-occupied with the garage.  I finish up and you can tell whatever he has cornered, is getting more agitated so I call for him.  Well, it turns out it was a black kitty with a white stripe down it's back.  And then it happened. The most putrid smell on the planet.  I mean instant gag reflex and I was close enough to hear it and get the full delicious whiff-effect.  That wasn't a cute little kitty, it was a skunk! And this wasn't some charmer like Peppy-le-pew.  And just like that, Lucky cemented his nickname Stinks into Wisco-lore.  Oh, man does it reek.  It's 11:20, our dog smells like the most horrific, rancid, tainted smell, just foul. The whole great outdoors was filled with a puke-your-guts out aura floating in the wind.  It was cartoonish; so thick you could almost see it.  We couldn't find anywhere to go to get out of the smell.  The stupid skunk wouldn't leave so he was running through the shrubbery, under the deck but wouldn't actually leave so we were more or less afraid to walk into the house for fear of a close encounter spraying.  Clearly, we did not need a round two. We got the message - golden retrievers and skunks are not good playmates.

I yell for Carrie, that wakes Q up, Carrie's mother, who had already gone to bed, let's us know we stink something awful (news flash!) so we now have stinky dog, relatively stinky humans from close proximity, screaming child and my mother-in-law giving the play by play.  I jest. She handled Q like a pro, which means she was sleeping in the spider-man bed with Spider-Q for at least the short term to get him to go back to sleep.  Carrie and I got the pleasure of giving Lucky, I mean Stinky a late night bath in the dark.  Guess what?  After all that - he still stinks.  Now what?  Is that you say toemato, I say tahmato thing an old wive's tale?  I think it is and at any rate where am I going to get 10 gallons of tomato juice at midnight?  We got over it, that is his new found stink mixed with wet dog and dog shampoo, showered ourselves and spent a stinky night together in our extra polluted honeymoon suite (the master bedroom).  At least the pooch is on the floor.  It could be worse right?  I can't exactly think of how, but I'm sure it could be worse.

The River

jumping off the diving board

Geez, a family goes out and gets a pool and all of a sudden the blogging comes to a stand still.

For the first time in a long long time our social calendar is full.  With so many friends and family close and everyone in our new northen climate taking full advantage of the outstanding weather our entire summer is nearly packed.  We realized we didn't have too many open weekends left to head up to the river and enjoy the Big Muddy for a weekend so we decided to head up there on Friday night. 

Traveling with the boys in the car is okay but it's much better at certain times of the day.  After school isn't a great time to go because they're a little wound up from school and usually run around outside until dinner time to wear themselves out. To put them in the car for that hour, the dinner hour and then the hour brefore the bedtime routine is pushing our luck.  Quinny is pretty good.  He's grown into an excellent big brother and is helping out on a daily basis.  You mix that with his own growing maturity; being able to pick his clothes out, get dressed, get drinks and snacks for himself and you have a pretty outstanding three year old.  Gavin is in that middle stage.  He's just learning how to talk so he's great at understanding you but it's a little harder for him to tell you what he wants so he still spends a great deal of his time going "ahhh, ahhh, ahhh, ahh."  I hate it.  I absolutelty hate it.  You could pick him up because he was ahh, ahh, ahh something and you try to figure it out.  You give him what he wants and then approximately 1 milliscecond later it's ahh, ahh, ahh for something else, which leads me to go to AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH land, which is 1 millisecond away from the insane asylum.  Now, if this was a 3-4 week stage, which is how long most annoying habits our boys have had like when Q was enamored with the F-bomb (we're glad he moved on from that stage).  He hasn't said it once since we moved to puritanical Wisconsin.  Those immoral Floridians! I could totally survive but Gavin has been at it for like a year. 

The kid loves sunglasses - beware!

Anyway, we were heading to the river my ahh, ahh, ahh boy screamed for 2 hours of the three hour drive.  That's not necessarily odd behavior (welcome to parenting!) but ususally you live in a house where you can run far enough away to get a brief reprieve where in the car packed with all your gear and your fat best friend, Stinks, there is nowhere to hide my friends.  So you grin and bear and go to your special place.  But even your special place can't withstand the force of a 1 year old screaming for 2 hours.  It's tough....

...But then you get to the river and go boating and have the time of your life.  The boys had a party night on Friday where Quinny stayed up almost until midnight - a new record!  No naps the next day and everyone was pretty good and kept their cool.  Q and I did some fishing where he caught maybe 7-8 bluegills in the morning.  We had another fishing pool fiasco.  I've now bought 4 for Quentin.  Maybe I should invest/invent a kid's fishing store.  Everyone had a good time until that drive home when we had a screaming repeat.  We finally pull into the driveway and I can see something swimming in the pool.  It was an enormous mouse doing laps around the pool - the backstroke.  Okay, so maybe not the backstroke but definitely enormous and definitely swimming.  After launching the mouse with the skimmer over the fence and back into the woods we open up the filter and find four live frogs.  We were just happy to know that someone was enjoying the pool over the weekend while we were gone.

It's Official

Friends, family and hangers-on, grab your speedos! It's official- the pool was opened today.  Who knew that it would be this easy?  The only real problem we have is we have no, and I mean no idea how to keep this thing up and running.  There was some talk about procuring a robot to clean the pool.  That sure beats my wife working from home with a pool boy swinging by all too often.  Something about chlorine tablets, alkaline (you mean throw some batteries in there?) and acid - no not that kind.  Well, actually I have no idea what kind of acid they're talking about.  Ah, it's blue and he said we can swim in it.  I'm sure the rest of it will get worked out down the road at some point.  They say the best way to learn is to screw up a lot and learn the hard way.  Check and double check!  So feel free to book your get away weekend to fabulously LG and come take a dip in the pool.

As far as the rest of the house goes it's a slow and methodical process with a picture getting hung there, a last remaining box getting unpacked there, one of our children hammering a bunch of hammer holes into a newly patched and painted wall there.  Neither child will admit it even under intense lighting and questioning.  You have go to be kidding me.  We didn't even make it a month without destroying a newly patched wall.  My mom says it adds character.  It adds something alright.

Putting on the final touches is slow going.  You thought the curtains you took seven years to buy at the old house would fit nicely.  Then you realize the ceilings are two feet lower so not so much.  Anyone want some really well thought out curtain purchases that are basically new?  Just kidding, the Martha Stewart in Carrie mixed with a hint of MacGuyver thinks she can work it out.  Until then we're still the number one house in the neighborhood for voyeurism.

The super snobby garbage men finally came to haul our much needed massive 1 month pile of trash away.  What's with the over picky garbage folks here in the Midwest?  If you can't cram it into the one (let me stress one here) garbage can they provide you they won't take it.  Let's see here.  Um, this is America!  You can't limit a family of four plus a slightly overweight, or rather big boned dog to an entire week's worth of garbage crammed into one measly garbage can!?  What is this communist China?  So, once a month they'll take whatever you can pull, push or drag to the curb so we stocked piled our trash for an entire month and then let the curb have it.  We could barely pull out of the driveway to get to work.  And the titans of industry took not one, not two but three separate and timed throughout the day literally from 8am to 5pm to pick it all up.  The snobby garbage man picking up his one measly can came at 8.  Some guy cruised through at noon and took just the cardboard.  When I say some guy, I don't mean Elmer from down the street. I mean our once-in-a-while-cardboard-picker-upper-garbage man, if you can still call him a man.  And then the trash man came that took all the fun stuff.  You should've seen all the traffic our garbage was getting.  Everyone and their mother would slow down and take a gander at all that trash.  Unfortunately, in this case, one man's trash, was simply one man's trash.

Check out the sweet transformation of the pool in 3 short days.  Can't wait to take a dip!

Holy Cow!

Last picture moving out of FL - again!

It's been a long time since I posted a blog!  We've been busy and have a ton left to do.  Lots see if we can catch everyone up on the last month concisely.  Well, not likely but I'll try.

The purple room every house needs

Let's start by filling everyone in on all that had to be done.  Our house in Florida was bought during the highest quarter in real estate history.  Yes!  Buy high sell low...or is that sell high buy low.  Well, clearly it's not important because it's an investment in our future.  Oh, the agony.  This time around we bought a foreclosure.  Well, it's not exactly turn key.  We've had many a vision of the classic "Money Pit."  The previous owners took everything!  And I mean everything!  They ripped it (it being everything) out of the wall and took it with them leaving the holes, anchors and holes behind.  Did I mention there were a lot of holes?  I know a great drywall guy, though if you need a recommendation.  We bought 45 light bulbs.  Holy cow!  I can't tell you how many trips I made to Home Depot simply to buy more light bulbs.  They took every piece of hardware; door knobs, every single nob that went to a drawer.  Think bathrooms, kitchen, every closet door, etc.  The ripped all the closets out and I do mean ripped out.  So we had to patch them all and then buy shelves and dowels so we could hang things up.  They started to rip the trim off, but it must have been too challenging because they only tore up the master bedroom and our guest room.

And the every color in the rainbow room

Oh, the paint.  We used 19 gallons of paint - the entire house has been painted; every closet, room and even the downstairs ceiling had to be painted.  We painted every orifice in this house.  I pity the poor family members that encouraged us to move closer to home only to find out they had to pay penance immediately upon our arrival by picking up a paint brush and not putting it back down for 72 hours.  It was 2 cases of beer and 6 gallons of paint a day.  Three days and we painted the whole house.  I even got coaxed (possibly by purchasing this house) to getting up on scaffolding borrowed from a neighbor my father-in-law made friends with 10 minutes before, 25 feet in the air suspended over a very long drop with a ladder propped up against the upstairs railing and another 25 foot ladder in the entry way.  Clearly, we won't be changing the color anytime soon.  I don't want to see another paint brush for a long, long time.  The boy's bedrooms required 4 coats of primer to get rid of the purples, yellows, greens, oranges, reds and blues the previous owners thought would be, one can only assume, cute.  Weirdos!  Why are people so weird!?

Everyone was pitching in

We had to get all new appliances and they are installed and functioning. We can eat again!  We bought yet another washer and dryer and dare I say we purchased the same ones again!?  Oh the insanity.  We keep moving from gas to electric to gas and selling the incompatible ones always being one step behind.  For the love! We replaced the carpet on the main level and shampooed the upstairs carpet.  Would you believe we had to replace all the aerators in every sink - the last people took them.  If you don't have them when you turn on the faucet water sprays everywhere. I repeat - weirdos!  Who steals aerators?!  Shower heads?  Yup, needed new ones.  They took the hardwired smoke detectors.  Those won't even work wherever you took them.  Who steals smoke detectors? They did leave one or two but took the 9-volt batteries out.  When we were painting it was beep, beep, beep, beep. I'm going beeping crazy with all the beep beep beeping and need to run to Home Depot to buy 10 beeping 9-volt batteries! I'm sure those fetched pennies on the open market.  There is a huge after market for used 9-volt batteries.  My personal favorite, though, was they took the screws out of the garage door so whenEver you opened the garage door it's hanging by a thread onto the mechanism that carries the door up.  In other words at any moment in time it can come crashing done on some unsuspecting family member doing their penance at our house. Nice one!  Who would be that psychotic?  I actually need to fix that still.  This house has 2 garage doors, though so you can drive right through your garage to the backyard.  Who knew that would be so convenient?

It's not easy painting a ceiling

My poor folks were spending quite a bit of time watching the boys and both got sick during all this.  Quinny caught the flu and puked all over my mom, her couch, her rug and Carrie. For a bonus, it was beef stew night. Ewwww.  Gavin had pneumonia and still hasn't recovered. Sweet.  Did I mention we did all this in 4 days?  Holy cow!  We had a lot of help.  Thanks to my parents, Carrie's parents, Uncle Brett, Uncle Spuke and Carrie's grandparents for the child watching, the painting, all the food and prepared meals, the patience, the countless hours of hard, really hard work and the 3 times daily trips to Lowe's, Home Depot and everywhere else we've been.  Lastly, thanks to Miller Lite for providing a daily dose of sanity for all involved.  Pictures to come!

This guy does not like heights

We also celebrated Carrie's birthday, our anniversary and mother's day.  They were all possibly the worst celebrated holidays in our lives.  It was here have a beer, put that paint brush down for 5 minutes, slam said beer and get back to work.  I love you.  Happy anniversary!  That second honeymoon is a long ways away.

Our new beautiful lake with the sun setting last night

The good news is the pool guy is coming tomorrow.  Did I mention we have a fantastically large in-ground pool complete with slide and diving board pool that presumably once drained of swamp water and filled with beautiful aqua blue water will be the envy of the neighborhood?  We're hoping to have it operational and not have it on the money pit list by, dare I roll the dice and say this weekend?  C'mon house, show me the love!

Moving Along

Life ain't fair.  The more people, and especially peers, I speak with these days the truer that seems to be.  And life seems to be a lot less fair to other people than us but we too were kicked in the teeth recently.  It's shocking to speak with people and find out how many folks out there are going through rather serious crises from jobs to personal lives to health issues, often at a much too young an age.  This spring we had our own bout with fate and have had to make some difficult decisions.  Drum roll please....We have decided to move...again.  Okay, I'll be honest, I just threw up in my mouth.  Clearly, this was not an easy decision. This will be our third cross-country move in less than 18 months.  One might say we are quickly becoming experts in packing, unpacking and learning the interstate highway system.  Or we could just be referred to as snowbirds.  We moved back to Florida in November and look to be vacating in May.  Oh, Florida, why will you not just embrace us?!

This time we're taking a crack at Wisconsin.  I left Wisconsin in 2001 when I moved to Boston and have been goofing around mostly the east coast since then with stays in New York, Miami, Gainesville, Tampa, Cedar Rapids, Tampa again and now back where it all started Lake Geneva.  I've been afforded an opportunity to join the family business and look forward to all small business has to offer.  I'll be joining my father and brother in a business my dad started some 33 years ago.  Ironically, I think it pretty likely my parents move to Florida.  Ha!  Hey, I know where you can get a great (well actually horrible deal) on a really nice house in Tampa. C'mon, you know you want it!

At the end of the day we think it will be a nice town to raise our family in with a solid public school system, close to family and the job will afford me some much needed flexibility in our lives.  For example I'm traveling around 40 weeks a year and this job would get that down to nil. As the boys have gotten older the single parenting stress on Carrie and the absentee parenting has had a negative impact on me and the boys.  We want to spend more time together and get a lot less sleep as a family.  It's no fun getting 2-3 hours of sleep a night away from each other.  Families that stay awake all night together, stay together - period.  Sweet.  I can't wait for more evenings of fighting with the boys to get to bed and then stay in bed.  I keep making that argument to have another kid, by the way.  "Care, we're getting up every 2 hours anyway.  What's the difference?  This body isn't going to stay this way forever, you know. Grrrrrar!"

So, as we roll into another state, Quinny's third in his three years and the potential to have 3 kids born in 3 different states - we don't want to be referred to as boring! we look forward to everyone's help. We need it this time around. We bought a house in foreclosure and it needs some TLC.  We did find a place we can grow into with 5 bedrooms and it sits on nearly an acre of property.  Did someone say Stinky needs a friend?  Plus we have a swimming pool.  Oh, we've dreamed of a swimmimg pool since after arriving, ironically not wanting one, in Tampa.  Oops!  Oh, well, getting a pool (with heater!) that we can use 3-4 months out of the year is better than no pool at all.  We miss our weekends with Aunt Jo and Uncle Bobby and their kids grilling and chilling pool side and hope to have more weekends of the same once we get that swamp in our yard back up to swimming pool par.  Thanks for setting us straight on how to spend a Sunday, relatives. 

We bought 10 gallons of paint yesterday in anticipation of a lot of painting ahead.  We also bought an entire kitchen full of appliances.  One might wrongly think that would be fun.  Then you see the price tags. Yowsers.  Thank you Sears for putting everything 50% off the week before we move in.  The folks moving out were clearly a little grumpy and caused some, mostly cosmetic, damage on the way out the door. You could tell it was hard for them to do real damage and most of it is fixable, but the place has been vacant for about a year.  If you have any talent (or none at all - we'll still take ya) come on down for a painting party in the LG in about 10 days.  Plus, it's Carrie's birthday and she told me there is nothing she likes better than moving on her birthday.  That would be right in between our anniversary and mother's day.  Like I said, life ain't fair.  Wish us luck we'll be moving one week from today.

Disgusting

Happy Easter!!

That's Quinny's new favorite word and he says it with such disdain he really drives the definition home.  Last night he and his little brother had a disgusting moment together and it was disgusting (emphasize the disdain for full effect).  Say it again - disgusting.  Now say it with me, disgusting.  Okay you are almost prepared to read on.

There we were at the dinner table having a lovely meal prepared by our lovely mother/wife enjoying all the deliciousness of it and each other's company.  As dinner was winding down Q asked if it was a bath night.  We didn't think we were up to the heroics involved but our observant little fella did point out his toes were awfully dirty so we lamented and decided bath night, sure, how hard could it be.  Famous last words.  Like all decisions in life if you have to think about it, it's a no.  Just go with your initial instinct, which was no.  Oh, to have the moment back.

Everything was going swimmingly.  I stopped up there to check on them and the boys were getting along, Carrie was in full control so I swung by my office across the hall for I don't even remember what.  Next thing I know my wife is screaming and I mean screaming bloody murder.  "I NEED HELP!"  I mean a simple hey, can you come in here for a sec would've sufficed.  You would've thought I'd been missing for 10 days.  Okay, okay what do you need?  Dude, what is that?! as I point to whatever it was in the tub.  She's still screaming.  I'm searching my mind for any sort of memory that could some how do the offending object(s) in the tub justice.  Was it dinner regurgitated?  Did someone slaughter a small squirrel, like putting it in a blender?  While we were all enjoying our lovely dinner were we some how poisoned?  For the life insurance perhaps? While I'm categorically working through my noggin for what that and I really mean THAT! could be in the tub Carrie is still screaming at me to grab one of the boys. 

At that point Quentin eloquently solved the mystery by calmly stating, "Dad, Gavin pooped in my tub."  Oh, man! That is nasty!  It wasn't the good kind of poo in the tub like one might, gulp dare I say hope for? in this kind of situation.  No, it was worse than that.  I'm not sure I can come up with the proper prose to do this kiddie disaster justice so I'll leave it your imagination.  It was a first for me so hopefully it is for you too.  If not buy me a beer some time and I'll blow your mind on the grossest gag my brains out moment of child rearing to date.  And let me tell you folks we have some dandies.  Did I ever write about the car ride from Iowa where Gavin did...it's too awful to discuss but it was in the car and we were all in the car with him and we were a long, long way from home.

After we, the parents, the poor poor parents, the ones responsible for having to figure out what to do next- stared, marveled and unfortunately contemplated how one could clean up (gas masks, full radiation gear?) whatever this disaster could be affectionately labeled as we came to the realization that the boys never even got soaped up.  At that point the voice of reason overcame us and we decided bath time for Tuesday was officially closed.  See I went back to our original instinct.  Oh, those instincts. Don't ever fight the instinct.  You wish you were us don't you?  

New Bed

Mr. Entitlement with G'pa on Siesta Key (stealing G'ma's chair)

Ya, the new bed.  Well, that didn't work out too well.  After school we talked about it on the way home and Q was all excited to help tear down his infant bed and get the new bed.  Then there was some indecision.  There has been a lot of moving lately and although, taking down the bed isn't all that difficult it is a pain due to the tight spaces and trying to unscrew the numerous bolts so I wanted to make sure he didn't change his mind, which I figured was roughly a 50/50 possibility.  Soon, indecision turned into a full blown, on the floor, legs flailing in the air crying tantrum.  There was some Quentin confusion.  He thought he was getting a new bed, which he was.  When I introduced him to the spare bedroom bed the tantrum ensued.  I was wondering what just happened.  I was mystified.  We discussed.  We planned.  He was excited.  I was excited.  And then...how did we end up here again? 

You would think I would be getting used to such events at this stage in parenting.  After getting the kid to calm down, at least to a level where he could coherently speak he pontificated that he thought he was getting the bed downstairs.  I'm sorry, excuse me?  The bed downstairs?  Well, there is only one bed downstairs.  It's the one in the master bedroom.  You know, my bed!!  So, this kid had the audacity to think he was trading in his toddler bed for a king size mommy and daddy bed.  Oh, the nerve!  Do you think this solidifies the argument our child might be a wee bit spoiled?

It was such an entertaining turn of events that I had to allow Quentin to explain this bit of entitlement to Carrie.  I thought it appropriate she heard this grandiose idea from our three year old's mouth.  And of course it was met with hysterics.  In the end would you believe we simply created space by removing the bumper, which met his personal satisfaction and simultaneously resolved the problem while allowing me a place to lay my head even if it's for only half the night?  The other half?  Well, that would be spent in the recliner of course, which is exactly where I woke up this morning.