Sweep the Leg

At 9pm there was a soft knock on our front door. WonderWife™ asked me who it was. I reminder her that when the knock occurred I had been sitting beside her on the couch, so there was no way for me to know who was behind our opaque wooden door since the laboratory accident I was involved with earlier in the day unfortunately did not give me any super powers.

I answered the door to find a meek woman with a dog standing on my porch. She softly said, "Excuse me sir, there’s a bag and some keys..." and pointed to the trunk of my car parked in the driveway. I peeked out and sure enough, there was my work bag, my iPod and my keys on the back of the car in plain sight to anybody who happened to be strolling past our house. Although I stood there staring at my keys, I instinctively patted my front pocket which confirmed that the keys were not some sort of mirage on the trunk of my car, but a careless mistake made three hours ago. I thanked the woman and brought my stuff inside, grateful that there are in fact decent people in the world.

I turned sheepishly inside to find WW™ with her head cocked to the side, like an inquisitive puppy, still wondering who had been at the door. Turning around with my bag and keys in my hands, I was forced to explain what I had done.

The worst part about this story is that it totally diffuses the power of one of the great stories I had over WW™. When she was pregnant, she was notorious for leaving her keys dangling from the lock on the trunk of her car. One time she left them out there all night, only to discover them when she went searching the next morning. I did what any good husband would do in a situation like that and mercilessly teased her about it. Until this very moment.

Now I have no leg to stand on.

Just a Little Patience

For 15 minutes, I sat beside the Bean as he struggled to put on his socks. I listened to the constant refrain of, “I can’t do it!” while he made half-hearted attempts to slip them over his feet. Bouts of crying were punctuated with the inappropriate giggles of a boy who was obviously tired. It would have been so easy to intervene and put the socks on for him, but I stayed next to him nudging him back on track whenever he tried to procrastinate from the task at hand. Many times he wanted to give up, but with steadfast conviction I refused to let him. I knew that he could do it because, as I told him, “I’ve seen you do it before.”

Like every parent before and after me, I sometimes have no patience for my children. But there are other times when I find that I have the laser sharp focus to guide them through the minute tasks of life. It becomes a challenge to me that’s not unlike playing a video game. Though I love video games, I’m not very good at them so I’ve often found myself spending hours trying to get through a level—refusing to give up until I’ve gotten past it. The same patience and perseverance that allows me to tirelessly repeat a board in order to figure out the exact timing to land Mario on the platform also allows me to not grow frustrated as I watch my son learn how to do something like get dressed by himself. Getting that pixilated figure to stick the landing comes with a great sense of accomplishment. However, when the Bean achieves his goal, we both share in the success.

As the evening wore on and the Bean was still barefoot, I had a choice to make. I could end his frustration and whining by putting the socks on for him, or I could make him stick it out. It was the end of the day and I was tired and hungry, fantasizing about the tasty chicken dinner that was waiting for me in the next room. My choice was easy. There was a lesson to be taught here. If I let him give up on this simple thing, what's to stop him from giving up on the bigger things? It took some time, and a few tears, but the Bean was eventually successful. His face beamed with pride as he padded on his now sock-adorned feet down the hall and into his bedroom. As I finally bit into my meal, my face did too.

On Compatibility

When I asked my wife if she thought we were compatible she said, "We are. We shouldn't be, but we are."

The rest of this post is over at VENUS VS. MARS today. The theme of the week is compatibility, if you haven't already guessed that. Check it out, it's a good one.

I'll be back here later this week with some fresh new geeky goodness. Promise.

Year Gone By

From the moment she was born, I knew she was going to be trouble. Sprout was bright purple, screaming angrily even after she was placed on WonderWife’s™ chest. My prediction turned out to be right and during the past year Sprout has certainly kept us on our toes. For the first eight months of her life, she refused to drink from anything that wasn’t WW’s™ nipple. She would not sleep in anything but her swing. She was moody. She was stubborn. She wanted only to be held by her mother.

But for as much as she's a pain in the ass, she’s also a sweet girl with a big smile who will flirt with anyone who looks her way. She's bold and fearless and wants to interact with every part of the world, taking it all in with her wide-eyes. She loves music and loves to dance. She loves animals. She loves her big brother more than anything else in the world.

It took longer for me to bond with Sprout than it did with her brother. But sometimes the relationships that start out rough grow to be the deepest and most fulfilling. I love my daughter. Her passionate spirit reminds me of her mother—another girl I love dearly. It has been a wild first year with Sprout. I can hardly wait for the next one.

Happy 1st birthday, baby girl.

Morphing Into What I Feared Most

I couldn't be more excited to present my first ever guest post, written by none other than WonderWife™ herself. You've come to know her through me, so I wanted to give her a chance to speak for herself. I'm thrilled she took me up on it. Please enjoy...I think that you will.

It’s been well documented that not only am I a self-proclaimed “not geek,” but that I have a great disdain for most things geek, including but not limited to: Comic-Con, gadgets, anything Sci-Fi, video games, and most pop culture. Unless you’re the 20-something bachelors of The Big Bang Theory (No, I do not watch it. But DGB does. Of course.), then there is simply not enough space in any one abode for more than a single geek. The place would be overwrought with gizmos, not to mention the cacophony of gadgets, each with their own beeps, whirls, and various other annoying sounds. I imagine that the noise would cause some sort of aneurysm and I would die a slow death as I bled from my ears.

It was this past week that I bought a new toy for myself – a hoity-toity sewing machine that I’ve been jonsin’ on for quite a while. Unlike DGB, I did not research the thing to death. I did a quickie web search, found one that had the capabilities I wanted, was a price that I knew to be reasonable, read a few customer reviews, and was satisfied. All in the span of 5 minutes. I assure you, it really is that easy to make a purchase. As I added the machine to my shopping cart, DGB asked if I had read the online reviews on it. The he clarified, “From multiple sites?” I just sighed. I was nearly ready to complete my transaction when all of the sudden DGB yelled, “Wait! Have you bought it yet? No? Go to Pricegrabber. Quickly. Just to make sure you’re getting the best price.”

The man simply cannot help himself. He was practically twitching knowing that I was buying a machine without going to at least 7 different cross-referenced websites. So I did it. For him. I looked at reviews for this model at another website and checked the other online prices. It was 10 minutes of my life that I’ll never get back only to find out that I already had the best price and that the reviews on one site were just as glowing as the reviews on the next. Which is to say, I learned nothing new by cross referencing to death. Vindicated, I finished my transaction.

I typically don’t give instruction manuals much more time than it takes to toss on the floor as I’m tearing the packaging off of whatever it is that I just bought. I might go back to reference it if I have a question, but by and large, instruction manuals are neglected by me. DGB, on the other hand, cracks ‘em open first thing. He’ll leave a new toy alone and forgotten for hours as he meticulously pours though every word of his instruction manual. By the last page, he knows every single function of his new gadget. I might figure out how to do about half that just by tinkering with it, but half of the thousands of functions that most electronics come with these days is plenty of function for me.

Three days later, my new machine arrives. And this puppy is unlike any machine that I’ve ever used. Short of plugging it in, I don’t even know where to start. It’s not like when you give up your old digital camera for a new one and so you pretty much know how to use the new one. This was like receiving a package from Mars. So I sat down, took a deep breath, and opened up the instruction manual. I read. And read. And read. At last I tried sewing with it.

As DGB came into my studio to have a look, I couldn’t help but to exclaim, “Look! Look at this! Look what it does! And here – look at this function. And see this? It can do this, too.”

Always the pragmatist, he asked, “How did you figure all of this out already? You just got it today."

I looked up from my sewing rather sheepishly and admitted that I had read the instruction manual cover to cover. His eyes widened and the beginnings of a smirk appeared at the sides of his mouth. But true to gallant form, he simply nodded and turned to leave. As he reached the door, he turned back, walked over to me and whispered in my ear, "Booyah! You're a geek too."

Strawberried Peanut Butter M&M's

After a few days of searching the candy aisles, I found them.

“Dammit,” said WonderWife™ upon seeing the bag in the sack of groceries. “I really wanted to be the one to bring these home for you.” (I’ve said it before and I will continue to say it: she’s a good woman, that one.)


M&M’s Strawberried Peanut Butter flavor has been launched as a tie in to Transformers Revenge of the Horrible Movie That’s Inexplicably Made a Gazillion Dollars. These candies are the best thing to come out of that movie. Though strawberry/peanut butter has about as much to do with transforming robots as mint crisp did to last year’s aging fedora adorned archeologist.

I really love peanut butter M&M’s—though I’m a sucker for peanut butter and tend to love anything made with it. Expectations were high for this one. Unlike traditional M&M’s, these guys have a peanut butter center with a taste and texture similar to the kind in the center of a Reese’s. Underneath the candy shell, is a thin layer of chocolate with strawberry flavor. The strawberry is decidedly artificial tasting, which isn’t surprising. You usually find it in strawberry candy (think Skittles, Starburst or Strawberry Quick). However, the artificial flavor clashed somewhat with the natural peanut butter of the inside. The peanut butter gave the candy a salty finish.

Strawberried Peanut Butter M&M’s were decent, but not quite as good as I was expecting. That said, the opened bag was left on the counter and I couldn’t help but finish it handful by handful throughout the day.

Although these weren’t the slam-dunk that the coconut M’s were, I applaud the effort. It feels like this year the candy companies are trying a little harder to put out some interesting new flavors, even though they know people like me will always buy them.

Our Idealized Selves

Over at Hot Dads today, I compare being on line with being a parent. I think it kind of makes sense. Click on over and check it out. Here's a taste:

My friends tell me that I’m much funnier in my blog than I am in real life. I wish I could disagree with them, but they’re kind of right. In real life, it’s usually the most obvious joke that pops to mind and unfortunately for those around me, I lack the impulse control not to say it.