"They never tell you ahead of time how impossibly difficult it's going to be."
- Frazzled mother, speaking to Keri Russel about her child
That quote is from the wonderful Waitress, which I watched today. Of course, I watched it in pieces, like the pie Keri Russel serves so well. Breaks today, as they do almost every day I'm home with Kate, came in small portions.
The girls did not nap in the afternoon. At all. Jayden napped for maybe a half an hour. I corralled them in the morning, when Kate went to work out, and then I got my turn to blast off some energy, thereby decreasing my chances of getting too frustrated simply because we won't have the strength for it.
Every day is a joy these days, and yet, every day, more and more, at the end, when Jayden finally gets sent to bed with Dr. Seuss or something similar, I feel completely drained.
Those who say kids make you younger were so very, very wrong. They were laughably wrong. I feel 50 right now. And the kind of 50 who smoked and drank every day rather than ran and ate brussel sprouts three times a day. I am 36.
I feel as I do after a hard race, like the kind I ran Monday, or just climbed a mountain, although the weariness is even worse in a way because those are renewing, no matter how exhausting. A day like today with the kids, as rewarding as it is, is not renewing. It pecks away at your sanity and greedily sucks the very last drops of your reserves with the large straw Daniel Day Lewis shouted about in "There Will Be Blood."
My kids do indeed drink my milkshake.
It's worth it, as I'd much rather spend my energy every day rather than keep it in my gut. And the payoff is huge. Tax breaks. Someone to invite over at Christmas when you're 85. And all the smiles and love you can handle.
But as I look over that quote from the movie I watched in pieces today, I can only think of one word in response.
Amen.
Showing posts with label Jayden. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jayden. Show all posts
Friday, May 30, 2008
Saturday, April 19, 2008
Saturday, April 12, 2008
A trip to the Butterfly Pavilion
There's a very cool place in the Denver area that's basically an insect zoo called the Butterfly Pavilion. We went there with Jayden and the twins Friday. Despite some people thinking that WE were on display - twins always draw a crowd - we had a great time.
The best part was the butterfly garden, a place that somehow simulates the habitat for dozens of butterfly species. You walk along the path and the butterflies fly around you.
Then they let the little kids catch them and pull their wings off.
(Actually, that's not what happens).
The best part was the butterfly garden, a place that somehow simulates the habitat for dozens of butterfly species. You walk along the path and the butterflies fly around you.
Then they let the little kids catch them and pull their wings off.
(Actually, that's not what happens).
Wednesday, January 09, 2008
Goodbye strangers, goodbye friends?
Lately for short periods I've thought about what my funeral would be like.
There would probably be a picture montage set to U2 because, let's face it, Iron Maiden or Metallica would probably not be appropriate. Besides, I'd be dead, so I'd have no say in what music was picked. And U2 does open the movie I'm making about the twins, so they'd probably deem it a safe choice and move on.
I suppose there would be flowers, maybe me in an open casket, if I'm not too gashed up from my fall off a peak, dressed in fleece and my ice axe by my side.
The thing I can't picture is just how many people would show.
But I think the pews are getting emptier.
Even before we had the kids, I wasn't one to have a lot of friends, and quite frankly I liked it that way. I liked having free nights, even on the weekends, to myself. I love time alone. The time I spend with people, while fun, drains me of the pieces of energy I have left after burning it running or working or living.
In the eight months since we added twins to Jayden, however, the few friendships I enjoyed have been difficult to maintain, and lately I've worried about their erosion, to the point where I wonder at times if I have any friends left at all.
I've had to leave poker games as they're just starting to pick up, turn down invitations to movies and forgo inviting others to watch a Kansas basketball game with me. In the past I'd probably gather a few friends to watch the Orange Bowl. Last Thursday I watched it alone, and silently, because the kids were all asleep.
I've constructed a pretty thick cocoon around myself as a parent of a toddler and twins.
We used to have a group of friends Kate and I hung with every few weeks, where we'd gather and drink and play games (NO, not spin the bottle or the car keys in a fishbowl). Once we even ran around different neighborhoods on a scavenger hunt, like eighth graders. It was fun. We took a five-day mountain climbing trip with a couple in that group and went out to dinner several times a season with another.
Now we haven't seen any of them in months.
It's just easier that way.
It's so much work to go out these days. It's not like we can just call a babysitter. "Hi, can you take care of two eight-month-old infants and a toddler with more endurance than an Ironman athlete? OK, see you at 7!" And taking the kids anywhere, even to dinner with friends, means shoving more things into a backpack that I used to bring climbing 14ers, clipping in two babies in their carriers and belting in Jayden and praying to God they don't throw a fit in the restaurant.
We're trapped in our own house, and though it's not prison because the girls are now super cute and getting big (videos to come I promise) and Jayden is speaking more words every day, those refreshing times with friends are fading fast. Even when we're out, sometimes it's too hard to have the singleton parents to make plans for some trip/night out and act disgusted when we say we can't go. One friend of Kate's constantly asks her why she can't go out to dinner with them every week, and Kate says "that leaves Dan at home with the three kids." I do give Kate a girls' night out once a month, and even then, her friend just asks her why Kate can't go out with them more as they take their calm, single child out in a stroller and to swim lessons and lunches in a high chair.
They don't get it, Kate says many times, and no one really does.
People, however, get tired of asking if you can make it to a movie and eventually just assume you can't. That's where we are now, and I'm beginning to question what, if anything, I want to do about it.
As I said, I'm perfectly happy playing online poker and chatting with virtual friends made and strengthened in Las Vegas and hitting up Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas and reading and watching movies. Now that my free time has been cut in half, at least, with caretaking, those activities are more important to me than ever.
Yet I do fall into depression at times, and I think it's because no matter how much of an introvert you are, and no matter how renewing time alone is, human contact with others you care about is important.
Kate and I realized how nice it was to have a few hours alone, without the kids, when Dad and his family watched all three of them during our trip to Kansas recently. So we made it a point, then and there, to try to have at least a couple hours together once every couple of weeks.
We're trying to watch our own relationship, and then we'll work on rebuilding the ones we enjoyed with others. But finding the time to do that continues to be challenging.
Kate asked her brother this weekend if he could watch the kids for a couple hours. We're not sure yet. We're starting to get the idea that he may be busy.
There would probably be a picture montage set to U2 because, let's face it, Iron Maiden or Metallica would probably not be appropriate. Besides, I'd be dead, so I'd have no say in what music was picked. And U2 does open the movie I'm making about the twins, so they'd probably deem it a safe choice and move on.
I suppose there would be flowers, maybe me in an open casket, if I'm not too gashed up from my fall off a peak, dressed in fleece and my ice axe by my side.
The thing I can't picture is just how many people would show.
But I think the pews are getting emptier.
Even before we had the kids, I wasn't one to have a lot of friends, and quite frankly I liked it that way. I liked having free nights, even on the weekends, to myself. I love time alone. The time I spend with people, while fun, drains me of the pieces of energy I have left after burning it running or working or living.
In the eight months since we added twins to Jayden, however, the few friendships I enjoyed have been difficult to maintain, and lately I've worried about their erosion, to the point where I wonder at times if I have any friends left at all.
I've had to leave poker games as they're just starting to pick up, turn down invitations to movies and forgo inviting others to watch a Kansas basketball game with me. In the past I'd probably gather a few friends to watch the Orange Bowl. Last Thursday I watched it alone, and silently, because the kids were all asleep.
I've constructed a pretty thick cocoon around myself as a parent of a toddler and twins.
We used to have a group of friends Kate and I hung with every few weeks, where we'd gather and drink and play games (NO, not spin the bottle or the car keys in a fishbowl). Once we even ran around different neighborhoods on a scavenger hunt, like eighth graders. It was fun. We took a five-day mountain climbing trip with a couple in that group and went out to dinner several times a season with another.
Now we haven't seen any of them in months.
It's just easier that way.
It's so much work to go out these days. It's not like we can just call a babysitter. "Hi, can you take care of two eight-month-old infants and a toddler with more endurance than an Ironman athlete? OK, see you at 7!" And taking the kids anywhere, even to dinner with friends, means shoving more things into a backpack that I used to bring climbing 14ers, clipping in two babies in their carriers and belting in Jayden and praying to God they don't throw a fit in the restaurant.
We're trapped in our own house, and though it's not prison because the girls are now super cute and getting big (videos to come I promise) and Jayden is speaking more words every day, those refreshing times with friends are fading fast. Even when we're out, sometimes it's too hard to have the singleton parents to make plans for some trip/night out and act disgusted when we say we can't go. One friend of Kate's constantly asks her why she can't go out to dinner with them every week, and Kate says "that leaves Dan at home with the three kids." I do give Kate a girls' night out once a month, and even then, her friend just asks her why Kate can't go out with them more as they take their calm, single child out in a stroller and to swim lessons and lunches in a high chair.
They don't get it, Kate says many times, and no one really does.
People, however, get tired of asking if you can make it to a movie and eventually just assume you can't. That's where we are now, and I'm beginning to question what, if anything, I want to do about it.
As I said, I'm perfectly happy playing online poker and chatting with virtual friends made and strengthened in Las Vegas and hitting up Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas and reading and watching movies. Now that my free time has been cut in half, at least, with caretaking, those activities are more important to me than ever.
Yet I do fall into depression at times, and I think it's because no matter how much of an introvert you are, and no matter how renewing time alone is, human contact with others you care about is important.
Kate and I realized how nice it was to have a few hours alone, without the kids, when Dad and his family watched all three of them during our trip to Kansas recently. So we made it a point, then and there, to try to have at least a couple hours together once every couple of weeks.
We're trying to watch our own relationship, and then we'll work on rebuilding the ones we enjoyed with others. But finding the time to do that continues to be challenging.
Kate asked her brother this weekend if he could watch the kids for a couple hours. We're not sure yet. We're starting to get the idea that he may be busy.
Sunday, December 23, 2007
Perspective
Today was one of those days when I really question why I'm a parent, and it officially started at midnight, sort of like a New Year's Eve in hell.
I was at a home game with friends over cheap poker. There was queso. There were nachos. There was Omaha and wild-card stud and a little bit of Hold 'Em. There was good conversation and hair metal on Comcast. I was in heaven.
Then the phone rang.
"I'm shaky, I'm sick, and the girls want to eat," she said.
And that's how I fell from heaven.
This is the price you pay for twins, and parents rarely talk about little sacrifices like this that we go through every single day. We have one baby, even with the toddler, and Kate feeds her and goes back to bed. But we have two, and so I'm needed at home, especially when Kate feels as if the black plague is crawling through her.
I run upstairs, pat Kate on the head and walk over to the nursery to grab a baby. Andie squeals when I enter the room. It's really cute and endearing. It's also not something you want to hear at midnight.
My fears are confirmed when I work Andie into a side position against my chest to help her sleep and she squirms and starts fighting me almost immeaditely. Translation: "I'm having none of THAT Daddy."
So, being the junkie that I am, I fire up three .25/.50 NL tables on Ultimate Bet and place Andie on a pillow on my lap. She gazes up at me and babbles. Allie, in her carrier, softly whines occasionally, but she seems sleepy.
I win $30 (woot!) and an hour and a half later, Andie goes to sleep, and Allie starts screaming. She wakes up Andie, and I pick up Allie and smell the worst. I open up her diaper. Jackpot!
At 2 a.m., I crawl into bed.
Kate wakes me at 7 a.m. miserable and cranky.
"I need to trade with you," she says and crawls into bed.
I think about protesting that this trade actually would be like trading a fourth-round draft pick for Randy Moss, but I think better of it. Kate's really sick. Poor thing. I go downstairs into chaos. Hi, girls, and hi, Jayden.
I never wake up fresh. It's more like the fog a bear must feel after hibernation.
Kate, through tears, says she doesn't want to drive to Kansas tomorrow. I say we must go because it will actually be harder to do another day with the kids without the extra help. So I:
Pack for Kate, the twins and Jayden
Play a $2.25 SnG while I'm doing this. I take second to a card rack.
Tinker with my computer.
Change the twins. I open Allie's diaper. Jackpot!
Run downstairs for laundry.
Wolf down some lunch.
Pack my suitcase for the trip.
Fold my laundry.
Calm down one of the girls at least 50 times.
Try to calm one of Jayden's tantrums. Unsuccessfully.
More laundry.
Pack more.
Answer "HA!" when Kate asks if I wanted to go running. Yes, but my eight-mile run Saturday will have to do.
By the time it's 1:15 p.m. and Kate's parents arrive to rescue us, I'm so frayed I threaten my beloved dog with a plastic bat to shut him up so his barking doesn't wake the twins.
And then I'm assigned to cover this story. Here's part of what I wrote for Monday's paper:
Shane and Amy Fuller didn’t want to break the news and tear a small piece of innocence away from their 7-year-old daughter, Kaylie.
No one in Johnstown, or any parent, for that matter, could blame them. No one wanted to hear what had happened to Zoe Garcia. But the TV blared Zoe’s name everywhere, and Kaylie knew enough about the Internet to see that something had happened to one of her best friends, and so the Fullers prepared themselves for the kind of news that should only come from the mouths of caring parents, not TV or the Internet. Shane told Kaylie to sit down, and he told her she had been killed.
Killed? But Kaylie was supposed to go over to her house the next day to play. She began to cry. Then she got angry. It was hard for her to understand why Zoe was beaten to death and why Zoe’s sister and her boyfriend were arrested in connection with her death.
“She wanted to know why people would do those things,” Shane said.
They didn’t have that answer. No one did. But they could offer their daughter one thing. There would be a candlelight vigil at Letford Elementary School in Johnstown, where Zoe filled the hallways with her smile and sat next to Kaylie in class.
“We talked about this being a chance to say goodbye,” Amy said.
That’s why dozens gathered Sunday night and clutched sad, shivering candles under a silver full moon and surrounded by neighborhoods lit by colorful Christmas lights.
I'm cutting it out and keeping it in my back pocket. When I face another day like today, I hope the perspective salves the pity I have for my difficult life.
I was at a home game with friends over cheap poker. There was queso. There were nachos. There was Omaha and wild-card stud and a little bit of Hold 'Em. There was good conversation and hair metal on Comcast. I was in heaven.
Then the phone rang.
"I'm shaky, I'm sick, and the girls want to eat," she said.
And that's how I fell from heaven.
This is the price you pay for twins, and parents rarely talk about little sacrifices like this that we go through every single day. We have one baby, even with the toddler, and Kate feeds her and goes back to bed. But we have two, and so I'm needed at home, especially when Kate feels as if the black plague is crawling through her.
I run upstairs, pat Kate on the head and walk over to the nursery to grab a baby. Andie squeals when I enter the room. It's really cute and endearing. It's also not something you want to hear at midnight.
My fears are confirmed when I work Andie into a side position against my chest to help her sleep and she squirms and starts fighting me almost immeaditely. Translation: "I'm having none of THAT Daddy."
So, being the junkie that I am, I fire up three .25/.50 NL tables on Ultimate Bet and place Andie on a pillow on my lap. She gazes up at me and babbles. Allie, in her carrier, softly whines occasionally, but she seems sleepy.
I win $30 (woot!) and an hour and a half later, Andie goes to sleep, and Allie starts screaming. She wakes up Andie, and I pick up Allie and smell the worst. I open up her diaper. Jackpot!
At 2 a.m., I crawl into bed.
Kate wakes me at 7 a.m. miserable and cranky.
"I need to trade with you," she says and crawls into bed.
I think about protesting that this trade actually would be like trading a fourth-round draft pick for Randy Moss, but I think better of it. Kate's really sick. Poor thing. I go downstairs into chaos. Hi, girls, and hi, Jayden.
I never wake up fresh. It's more like the fog a bear must feel after hibernation.
Kate, through tears, says she doesn't want to drive to Kansas tomorrow. I say we must go because it will actually be harder to do another day with the kids without the extra help. So I:
Pack for Kate, the twins and Jayden
Play a $2.25 SnG while I'm doing this. I take second to a card rack.
Tinker with my computer.
Change the twins. I open Allie's diaper. Jackpot!
Run downstairs for laundry.
Wolf down some lunch.
Pack my suitcase for the trip.
Fold my laundry.
Calm down one of the girls at least 50 times.
Try to calm one of Jayden's tantrums. Unsuccessfully.
More laundry.
Pack more.
Answer "HA!" when Kate asks if I wanted to go running. Yes, but my eight-mile run Saturday will have to do.
By the time it's 1:15 p.m. and Kate's parents arrive to rescue us, I'm so frayed I threaten my beloved dog with a plastic bat to shut him up so his barking doesn't wake the twins.
And then I'm assigned to cover this story. Here's part of what I wrote for Monday's paper:
Shane and Amy Fuller didn’t want to break the news and tear a small piece of innocence away from their 7-year-old daughter, Kaylie.
No one in Johnstown, or any parent, for that matter, could blame them. No one wanted to hear what had happened to Zoe Garcia. But the TV blared Zoe’s name everywhere, and Kaylie knew enough about the Internet to see that something had happened to one of her best friends, and so the Fullers prepared themselves for the kind of news that should only come from the mouths of caring parents, not TV or the Internet. Shane told Kaylie to sit down, and he told her she had been killed.
Killed? But Kaylie was supposed to go over to her house the next day to play. She began to cry. Then she got angry. It was hard for her to understand why Zoe was beaten to death and why Zoe’s sister and her boyfriend were arrested in connection with her death.
“She wanted to know why people would do those things,” Shane said.
They didn’t have that answer. No one did. But they could offer their daughter one thing. There would be a candlelight vigil at Letford Elementary School in Johnstown, where Zoe filled the hallways with her smile and sat next to Kaylie in class.
“We talked about this being a chance to say goodbye,” Amy said.
That’s why dozens gathered Sunday night and clutched sad, shivering candles under a silver full moon and surrounded by neighborhoods lit by colorful Christmas lights.
I'm cutting it out and keeping it in my back pocket. When I face another day like today, I hope the perspective salves the pity I have for my difficult life.
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
The grind
We were in McDonald's the day after Thanksgiving to let Jayden burn off some energy in one of those plastic playgrounds that looks like it was built for a giant hamster.
A guy was over there watching his children, and I ignored him, as I usually do in public, since I'm such a social butterfly.
When we traded off, and I started wolfing down some pancakes and sausage, Kate came back in and said, "That guy has twins."
My ears perked. Sweet. Someone to comiserate with us. And his twins were boys! Heh! He must have had it worse than us.
"Yeah, it was pretty hard," he said. "That first year. Wow."
I nodded my head, soaking in the sympathy. Yep. That first year. Wow.
"Of course, they slept through the night at three months," he said.
"Oh, really," I said through gritted teeth, fighting the urge to hit him with a tray.
Our girls are six months old now, and they are not sleeping through the night. In fact, their sleeping habits are much worse now than they were at three months. I actually remember telling my running partners at that time that they were basically making it through the night.
Last night? Allie woke up at midnight for a feeding, using her newfound opera-star lungs for emphasis. Andie woke up at 1:30 a.m. for a feeding (I took that one). Allie woke up at 3 a.m. and screwed around a bit. Andie and Allie both woke up at 4:45 a.m., hungry again. Then at 5:15 a.m., Andie decided it was time to get up and began squealing, and when that didn't work, decided to fuss. Kate probably jolted out of bed seven times to put the pacifer back in her mouth, but we were both awake after 4:45 a.m. Kate left for work at 6:45 a.m. and let me sleep until 8:20 a.m.
I am not only sick of the grind of the twins right now, I'm sick of not having the energy to do the grind because we can't ever rejuvenate at night.
To top things off, Jayden is 2-and-a-half and in full toddler mode. He's sometimes just impossible to deal with. He wants his mommy all the time, which honestly makes me wonder sometimes why I bother. I realize that's a pretty immature attitude but at times like these I can't help it.
Which reminds me.
Vegas.
10 days (right?).
Vegas tempts people with all sorts of vices. Pai Gow, poker, slots, rich food, alcohol, casual sex, strippers, skin, probably drugs if that's your thing. I'll partake in my fair share of poker and good times with virtual friends.
But Vegas may just tempt me with sleep most of all. I'll do my best to resist, but the siren song may be too much to resist.
P.S. Come back for cute pictures tommorow, just so you don't think I'm hating them too much. :)
A guy was over there watching his children, and I ignored him, as I usually do in public, since I'm such a social butterfly.
When we traded off, and I started wolfing down some pancakes and sausage, Kate came back in and said, "That guy has twins."
My ears perked. Sweet. Someone to comiserate with us. And his twins were boys! Heh! He must have had it worse than us.
"Yeah, it was pretty hard," he said. "That first year. Wow."
I nodded my head, soaking in the sympathy. Yep. That first year. Wow.
"Of course, they slept through the night at three months," he said.
"Oh, really," I said through gritted teeth, fighting the urge to hit him with a tray.
Our girls are six months old now, and they are not sleeping through the night. In fact, their sleeping habits are much worse now than they were at three months. I actually remember telling my running partners at that time that they were basically making it through the night.
Last night? Allie woke up at midnight for a feeding, using her newfound opera-star lungs for emphasis. Andie woke up at 1:30 a.m. for a feeding (I took that one). Allie woke up at 3 a.m. and screwed around a bit. Andie and Allie both woke up at 4:45 a.m., hungry again. Then at 5:15 a.m., Andie decided it was time to get up and began squealing, and when that didn't work, decided to fuss. Kate probably jolted out of bed seven times to put the pacifer back in her mouth, but we were both awake after 4:45 a.m. Kate left for work at 6:45 a.m. and let me sleep until 8:20 a.m.
I am not only sick of the grind of the twins right now, I'm sick of not having the energy to do the grind because we can't ever rejuvenate at night.
To top things off, Jayden is 2-and-a-half and in full toddler mode. He's sometimes just impossible to deal with. He wants his mommy all the time, which honestly makes me wonder sometimes why I bother. I realize that's a pretty immature attitude but at times like these I can't help it.
Which reminds me.
Vegas.
10 days (right?).
Vegas tempts people with all sorts of vices. Pai Gow, poker, slots, rich food, alcohol, casual sex, strippers, skin, probably drugs if that's your thing. I'll partake in my fair share of poker and good times with virtual friends.
But Vegas may just tempt me with sleep most of all. I'll do my best to resist, but the siren song may be too much to resist.
P.S. Come back for cute pictures tommorow, just so you don't think I'm hating them too much. :)
Sunday, November 04, 2007
Hi, Son and other Sunday thoughts
In many ways, the twins are more challenging than Jayden, but there's one thing that's much easier.
Their love is unconditional.
Case in point.
Saturday night:
Me: "Hey, Jayden, do you want to sit with Daddy while we watch Toy Story?"
Jayden: "No."
Me: "Why not?"
Jayden: "NO!"
Um, OK.
This after I spent the whole day with Jayden Friday, as I do every Friday. I drove for an hour, one way, to take Jayden to see a wildlife sanctuary because I thought he'd like the big tigers and lions. He did. I brought extra snacks for him and changed his increasingly gross diaper (toilet training needs to happen soon, I just wish we had the time) and lay with him before he took his nap so he could fall asleep with Daddy by his side.
Saturday was a tough day. I had lots to do and got very little of it done because I was constantly caring for a twin. This is the side of twins that most never see. That's why our friendships have eroded and why simple little errands around the house, like putting a book on a shelf or reading an article in Sports Illustrated, take more planning and determination than an Everest expedition (and for those of you who aren't obsessed with peaks, that's a LOT). Our lives are dominated with day-to-day care of babies.
The thing that sucks the most about that is my relationship with Jayden cracks at time as well. I spent maybe 15 good minutes with him all Saturday. The rest of the time I was holding a baby.
Granted, part of this is my fault. I didn't have to pay such close attention to my Kansas Jayhawks as they ripped apart Nebraska, but I never thought I would see a 76-39 game and have it be a Kansas football team that was putting up the 76. So I'm not innocent here. I could have read Jayden more books Saturday during the game.
But I always feel as if I'm having to prove myself to Jayden while Kate gets love and attention. She's Mom, he's 2, and I understand that, but I also wish we could be closer, and I don't know that's going to change much while the twins demand so much of our time.
I just hope I don't relate too much to "Cats in the Cradle" in a couple years.
The good news is I finally got to go running today for the first time since I got snipped last Wednesday. I ran almost 10 miles. Yeah, I was a little pent up. I hadn't taken that much time off in three years, and I felt sluggish at first, but it also felt good to feel tired and a little pain today.
Poker is going well. The cash games continue to go well, but my MTT play is finally coming around. That was always the worst part of my poker game, but I've cashed three times in a row in the Mookie, cashed in Riverchasers, cashed in an 90-person SnG, finished third in the Bodog blogger tournament (unfortunately I can't make this Tuesday again, this time because of work again (elections), but it's a great deal and you should come out) and last night I finished 13th in a 255-person $11 MTT Turbo on Bodog (great new look by the way).
All of this was just in the last three weeks.
I realize these are not huge scores and weren't worth brag posts, but I'm finally getting more aggressive in the later stages and I'm stealing far more than I did last year, when I just waited for good cards even near the end and whined when I didn't get them. Yes, I've gotten some good cards during this streak, and yes, I haven't been sucked out on much (amazing how far you can go when your favorites actually hold up), but I think the big difference has been my ability to steal now. It's not all cards. I got a big pair, KK, once in the whole Turbo tournament.
I still can't believe Kansas is in the national title hunt. I can barely say those words without laughing. We keep this up and we'll be in a BCS bowl. I don't expect Kansas to play for the title, but to play in one of those bowl games would be something. Basketball is coming, and Kansas is ranked in the top 5, and I'm not even as wrapped up in it as I normally am because the football team is so good.
I finally cashed in Fantasy Sports Live. I took second in the Sundays with Dr. Pauly contest. I didn't have any grand notions of making a ton of money with this, but I know I'm capable of breaking even. My fantasy team in my keeper league, a tough league, is the hottest in the league again now that Drew Brees has wiped the sleepers out of his eyes. But I began to doubt my ability after finishing sixth or seventh every week.
This is a start.
Their love is unconditional.
Case in point.
Saturday night:
Me: "Hey, Jayden, do you want to sit with Daddy while we watch Toy Story?"
Jayden: "No."
Me: "Why not?"
Jayden: "NO!"
Um, OK.
This after I spent the whole day with Jayden Friday, as I do every Friday. I drove for an hour, one way, to take Jayden to see a wildlife sanctuary because I thought he'd like the big tigers and lions. He did. I brought extra snacks for him and changed his increasingly gross diaper (toilet training needs to happen soon, I just wish we had the time) and lay with him before he took his nap so he could fall asleep with Daddy by his side.
Saturday was a tough day. I had lots to do and got very little of it done because I was constantly caring for a twin. This is the side of twins that most never see. That's why our friendships have eroded and why simple little errands around the house, like putting a book on a shelf or reading an article in Sports Illustrated, take more planning and determination than an Everest expedition (and for those of you who aren't obsessed with peaks, that's a LOT). Our lives are dominated with day-to-day care of babies.
The thing that sucks the most about that is my relationship with Jayden cracks at time as well. I spent maybe 15 good minutes with him all Saturday. The rest of the time I was holding a baby.
Granted, part of this is my fault. I didn't have to pay such close attention to my Kansas Jayhawks as they ripped apart Nebraska, but I never thought I would see a 76-39 game and have it be a Kansas football team that was putting up the 76. So I'm not innocent here. I could have read Jayden more books Saturday during the game.
But I always feel as if I'm having to prove myself to Jayden while Kate gets love and attention. She's Mom, he's 2, and I understand that, but I also wish we could be closer, and I don't know that's going to change much while the twins demand so much of our time.
I just hope I don't relate too much to "Cats in the Cradle" in a couple years.
The good news is I finally got to go running today for the first time since I got snipped last Wednesday. I ran almost 10 miles. Yeah, I was a little pent up. I hadn't taken that much time off in three years, and I felt sluggish at first, but it also felt good to feel tired and a little pain today.
Poker is going well. The cash games continue to go well, but my MTT play is finally coming around. That was always the worst part of my poker game, but I've cashed three times in a row in the Mookie, cashed in Riverchasers, cashed in an 90-person SnG, finished third in the Bodog blogger tournament (unfortunately I can't make this Tuesday again, this time because of work again (elections), but it's a great deal and you should come out) and last night I finished 13th in a 255-person $11 MTT Turbo on Bodog (great new look by the way).
All of this was just in the last three weeks.
I realize these are not huge scores and weren't worth brag posts, but I'm finally getting more aggressive in the later stages and I'm stealing far more than I did last year, when I just waited for good cards even near the end and whined when I didn't get them. Yes, I've gotten some good cards during this streak, and yes, I haven't been sucked out on much (amazing how far you can go when your favorites actually hold up), but I think the big difference has been my ability to steal now. It's not all cards. I got a big pair, KK, once in the whole Turbo tournament.
I still can't believe Kansas is in the national title hunt. I can barely say those words without laughing. We keep this up and we'll be in a BCS bowl. I don't expect Kansas to play for the title, but to play in one of those bowl games would be something. Basketball is coming, and Kansas is ranked in the top 5, and I'm not even as wrapped up in it as I normally am because the football team is so good.
I finally cashed in Fantasy Sports Live. I took second in the Sundays with Dr. Pauly contest. I didn't have any grand notions of making a ton of money with this, but I know I'm capable of breaking even. My fantasy team in my keeper league, a tough league, is the hottest in the league again now that Drew Brees has wiped the sleepers out of his eyes. But I began to doubt my ability after finishing sixth or seventh every week.
This is a start.
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Bookworm
All of a sudden, Jayden is obsessed with books.
He seemed to enjoy us reading to him, especially a big animal book that had colorful pictures of all kinds of critters, but many times reading was more of a chore than a pleasure. He was (is) addicted to "Little Einsteins" the way certain Minnesota bloggers are addicted to cheese curds, and when we asked him if he wanted to read, he would say, "no."
And, to be honest, by the end of the day, we were so tired, we were fine with him watching his cartoon.
Bad parent. This despite my love for words and writing and reading. Bad parent. This despite the fact that I could read at a high level when I was in Kindergarten, and I think that was because I had a knack for it, "Sesamee Street" and my parents willing to read me a book all the time.
Jayden still lags a bit on talking. He's a couple months past two and still does not use more than one word at a time despite knowing plenty of words. I'm guilty over that, wondering if we had read to him more if he'd be talking more at this pont.
Bad, bad, naughty parent.
So I'm relieved he's suddenly so into books. When I come in his room to get him in the morning, sometimes I find 5-6 books on his bed, something he was obviously doing instead of sleeping (that kid does not know how lucky he is to be offered at least 10 hours a sleep a night). He wants me to read to him all the time. He even wants to read, occasionally, when those little smart, musical, crack fiends are on.
As a society TV, video games, texting on the phone and surfing the Web are valued more than reading. I'm sensitive to this, perhaps more than I should be, because newspapers have taken a severe hit in the last year, and I wonder if I'll have a job in 10. Maybe even five. We don't read enough. I wonder if it wasn't for blogs, we would read at all anymore.
I'm just as guilty. After spending all day at work writing, I don't want to read when I get home. I'd rather play online poker or video games or watch a movie, if I have any free time at all after appeasing Jayden and the twins.
But Jayden has inspired me. I am reading again. I'm reading my magazines, I'm staying in touch with your blogs, and I'm even reading books again, this time "Bigger Deal," a freebee a lot of you got and already read months ago. I devoured Harry Potter. I have a stack of books that I'm going to attack, not all of them poker books. I need to be an example for my son.
I want my bed to be covered in books when I wake up, something I should have been doing years ago instead of sleeping.
Edit: I went downstairs this morning and caught him reading this. Cool! This is not a pose.
He seemed to enjoy us reading to him, especially a big animal book that had colorful pictures of all kinds of critters, but many times reading was more of a chore than a pleasure. He was (is) addicted to "Little Einsteins" the way certain Minnesota bloggers are addicted to cheese curds, and when we asked him if he wanted to read, he would say, "no."
And, to be honest, by the end of the day, we were so tired, we were fine with him watching his cartoon.
Bad parent. This despite my love for words and writing and reading. Bad parent. This despite the fact that I could read at a high level when I was in Kindergarten, and I think that was because I had a knack for it, "Sesamee Street" and my parents willing to read me a book all the time.
Jayden still lags a bit on talking. He's a couple months past two and still does not use more than one word at a time despite knowing plenty of words. I'm guilty over that, wondering if we had read to him more if he'd be talking more at this pont.
Bad, bad, naughty parent.
So I'm relieved he's suddenly so into books. When I come in his room to get him in the morning, sometimes I find 5-6 books on his bed, something he was obviously doing instead of sleeping (that kid does not know how lucky he is to be offered at least 10 hours a sleep a night). He wants me to read to him all the time. He even wants to read, occasionally, when those little smart, musical, crack fiends are on.
As a society TV, video games, texting on the phone and surfing the Web are valued more than reading. I'm sensitive to this, perhaps more than I should be, because newspapers have taken a severe hit in the last year, and I wonder if I'll have a job in 10. Maybe even five. We don't read enough. I wonder if it wasn't for blogs, we would read at all anymore.
I'm just as guilty. After spending all day at work writing, I don't want to read when I get home. I'd rather play online poker or video games or watch a movie, if I have any free time at all after appeasing Jayden and the twins.
But Jayden has inspired me. I am reading again. I'm reading my magazines, I'm staying in touch with your blogs, and I'm even reading books again, this time "Bigger Deal," a freebee a lot of you got and already read months ago. I devoured Harry Potter. I have a stack of books that I'm going to attack, not all of them poker books. I need to be an example for my son.
I want my bed to be covered in books when I wake up, something I should have been doing years ago instead of sleeping.
Edit: I went downstairs this morning and caught him reading this. Cool! This is not a pose.
Tuesday, August 07, 2007
It's on
So I'm mowing the lawn and Jayden is outside enjoying the backyard, and out of the corner of my eye I see some little yellow blips flying around, and suddenly my toddler is screaming.
Oh, shit.
I run over there.
I can't figure out what's wrong, exactly, until I'm carrying him back to the house and I see a bug on his ear.
It's a yellow jacket.
Jayden, since he's 2, tries to brush it off with his little hands, and it stings him on the ear.
Oh. You. BASTARD.
It winds up, in fact, that the jackets stung him seven times. One on the thigh, three on the back of his leg, once on the ear, a couple on his arm.
He's 2.
I take one look at his stings. I then get the wasp spray and head over to the nest.
Of course, you realize, this means war.
The "nest" of course is located deep in a log, which is why I didn't see it before. I spray enough in there to make them extinct, not just wipe out a nest. I revel in them squirming around. I wait by the nest and when another comes, I shoot them down, too, Aces High style.
So.
If you need a wasp killed, you know where to go.
I'm your Charles Bronson.
Oh, shit.
I run over there.
I can't figure out what's wrong, exactly, until I'm carrying him back to the house and I see a bug on his ear.
It's a yellow jacket.
Jayden, since he's 2, tries to brush it off with his little hands, and it stings him on the ear.
Oh. You. BASTARD.
It winds up, in fact, that the jackets stung him seven times. One on the thigh, three on the back of his leg, once on the ear, a couple on his arm.
He's 2.
I take one look at his stings. I then get the wasp spray and head over to the nest.
Of course, you realize, this means war.
The "nest" of course is located deep in a log, which is why I didn't see it before. I spray enough in there to make them extinct, not just wipe out a nest. I revel in them squirming around. I wait by the nest and when another comes, I shoot them down, too, Aces High style.
So.
If you need a wasp killed, you know where to go.
I'm your Charles Bronson.
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Am I doing enough?
So now my seven-layer dip of emotions (mmmm, seven-layer dip) includes exhaustion, weariness, frustration.
I've now decided to top it off with doubt, guilt and black olives.
Wait. Scratch the black olives. That's my other seven-layer dip.
Kate said today that the twins were developing a bit of a flat spot in the back of their heads. That of course told me two things today.
One is they are spending too much time in their carriers. We put them there to help them with their acid reflux problem.
The second is they are being put down too much.
Both sparked feelings of guilt and doubt. And black olives.
The first made me think we are seperating them too much and that they will lose that bond that twins are supposed to develop, making life a tad bit easier later when they entertain each other all the time.
The second made me think we're not spending enough time with them.
I'm struggling with coming home from a long day at work and having to hit the ground running. I'm struggling with not getting enough rest. I'm quite frankly just plain burnt out from having to hold a baby all the time and never, ever, ever, it seems, getting a moment's peace, when they're both asleep and I can do whatever I want, even play poker without a baby on my lap.
Yet I also worry that I'm not doing enough. I don't talk to them enough, I don't play with them enough, and I don't spend enough time with Jayden either. He's still not really talking much, and he's 2. Yes, he can say many words, but he can't put them together, and I blame myself for that, given that I don't read to him much. I always have a baby to tend to, after all.
The babies are smiling now - and that helps A TON — and yet they don't smile a lot, and when they are awake and happy, like this morning, I needed to get ready for work and couldn't take advantage of it.
Divided loyalities weren't a problem with Jayden, but these days, I feel like a pie that's being divided and devoured, and yet, at the end, no one is satisfied.
P.S. Did anyone else catch ESPN's WSOP coverage last night? It's cool that the station is turning around matches so quickly, but in the beginning, the graphics were so crappy that half the hole cards were chopped from the screen. Then about a quarter of a way into it, they were suddenly fixed.
What, you had to turn it around so quickly that you couldn't fix your graphics?
I've now decided to top it off with doubt, guilt and black olives.
Wait. Scratch the black olives. That's my other seven-layer dip.
Kate said today that the twins were developing a bit of a flat spot in the back of their heads. That of course told me two things today.
One is they are spending too much time in their carriers. We put them there to help them with their acid reflux problem.
The second is they are being put down too much.
Both sparked feelings of guilt and doubt. And black olives.
The first made me think we are seperating them too much and that they will lose that bond that twins are supposed to develop, making life a tad bit easier later when they entertain each other all the time.
The second made me think we're not spending enough time with them.
I'm struggling with coming home from a long day at work and having to hit the ground running. I'm struggling with not getting enough rest. I'm quite frankly just plain burnt out from having to hold a baby all the time and never, ever, ever, it seems, getting a moment's peace, when they're both asleep and I can do whatever I want, even play poker without a baby on my lap.
Yet I also worry that I'm not doing enough. I don't talk to them enough, I don't play with them enough, and I don't spend enough time with Jayden either. He's still not really talking much, and he's 2. Yes, he can say many words, but he can't put them together, and I blame myself for that, given that I don't read to him much. I always have a baby to tend to, after all.
The babies are smiling now - and that helps A TON — and yet they don't smile a lot, and when they are awake and happy, like this morning, I needed to get ready for work and couldn't take advantage of it.
Divided loyalities weren't a problem with Jayden, but these days, I feel like a pie that's being divided and devoured, and yet, at the end, no one is satisfied.
P.S. Did anyone else catch ESPN's WSOP coverage last night? It's cool that the station is turning around matches so quickly, but in the beginning, the graphics were so crappy that half the hole cards were chopped from the screen. Then about a quarter of a way into it, they were suddenly fixed.
What, you had to turn it around so quickly that you couldn't fix your graphics?
Monday, June 25, 2007
Pacify me
The crying, the endless feedings and diapers, Jayden's screaming (which now earns him a shot of soap water in the mouth), general fussiness from the girls and the 3 a.m. "wakeful" periods all are smooth as silk.
Only one thing has driven me close to believing that worms are crawling out of my eyes.
The pacifier.
Jayden turns 2 today, and he's hopelessly addicted to the pacy. Our doctor has told us it's time to break the addiction as soon as we can, after we all adjust to the twins' arrival (probably when they are 4 in other words). Jayden's still not talking much, though he knows a lot of words, and I'm pretty sure Jayden gets sick more than he needs to thanks to that wretched thing in his mouth all the time.
The girls already need their pacifiers, too, and the green hospital beauties we've brought home with them (free pacy with every baby, act now as this offer won't always be available) are apparently made of Super Ball. When the twins "drop" their pacifiers from their mouths, as they do about 379 times a day, the pacys bounce and roll, usually the couch, under the computer desk as I'm trying to play poker or down the hallway and into the darkest, most covert corner of the house.
I am constantly searching for either one of the twin's pacifiers or Jayden's, usually when Jayden is growing increasingly frantic that his herion dump is being taken away from it and his whine is approaching 747 jet airliner volume.
But that's OK. Let's be honest. The pacifiers are as much for the parents as they are the kids. It's the only thing that quiets down Jayden when he's whiny, and blissful, blissful peace, right now anyway, is more important than addiction.
The same pacifiers also work on the twins, especially when they're convinced that a little more milk won't hurt them, even after they've puked all over me and have burped four times and it's 3 a.m. and all I want to do is go to sleep please God sleep sleep sleep Andie go to bed right now!
Sorry.
We all have our pacifiers, and I've noticed that my pacifier in my poker game continues to be my tight-nut-peddling ways. that culiminated Friday with me folding J,10 on a 10,10,Q,3 board to an aggro maniac when he only bet the pot. Sad, sad, sad. A string of coolers had left me weak/tight and scared to get my money in with anything but the nuts, but after he flashed me 10,4, I realized I gave up a great opportunity to win a lot of money, and that's just as much of a mistake as calling off your chips.
(Poker note: I have seen more money lost from everyone I've played with when they trip up then any other scenario, even with overpairs to the board. So the fold isn't terrible, but I made the cardinal sin of ignoring my opponent's tendencies. If it was a tight player the fold wouldn't be too bad. Why do most push with trips when it's essentially a pair with an extra card. Kickers still play, people, and you're also doomed if someone has a set. I tend to play these with medium pots unless I know my opponent or have a great kicker).
So Saturday I raised and raised and raised some more, and I once even shoved with a set on an all-flush board. Normally I don't play big pots on all-flush boards with a flush myself, but the guy bet the pot and I was convinced he had something like A,K for TPTK and a flush draw. When the J paired the board I knew I was good and sure enough, he showed A,K with the A of spades.
This is not a breakthrough. I've gotten more aggressive these last few months. It's merely a notch, and notches are how we make more money and eventually move up in levels.
I've spit out that pacifier for now.
It's time for Jayden to lose his.
P.S. Pimping is in order here.
I've enjoyed the coverage at this site quite a bit (congrats Pauly on your cash).
But seeing as how I've contributed to the coverage on this site, and it also features the work of a couple good blogging buddies, I'm favoring this one right now.
So here's the pimp!
Only one thing has driven me close to believing that worms are crawling out of my eyes.
The pacifier.
Jayden turns 2 today, and he's hopelessly addicted to the pacy. Our doctor has told us it's time to break the addiction as soon as we can, after we all adjust to the twins' arrival (probably when they are 4 in other words). Jayden's still not talking much, though he knows a lot of words, and I'm pretty sure Jayden gets sick more than he needs to thanks to that wretched thing in his mouth all the time.
The girls already need their pacifiers, too, and the green hospital beauties we've brought home with them (free pacy with every baby, act now as this offer won't always be available) are apparently made of Super Ball. When the twins "drop" their pacifiers from their mouths, as they do about 379 times a day, the pacys bounce and roll, usually the couch, under the computer desk as I'm trying to play poker or down the hallway and into the darkest, most covert corner of the house.
I am constantly searching for either one of the twin's pacifiers or Jayden's, usually when Jayden is growing increasingly frantic that his herion dump is being taken away from it and his whine is approaching 747 jet airliner volume.
But that's OK. Let's be honest. The pacifiers are as much for the parents as they are the kids. It's the only thing that quiets down Jayden when he's whiny, and blissful, blissful peace, right now anyway, is more important than addiction.
The same pacifiers also work on the twins, especially when they're convinced that a little more milk won't hurt them, even after they've puked all over me and have burped four times and it's 3 a.m. and all I want to do is go to sleep please God sleep sleep sleep Andie go to bed right now!
Sorry.
We all have our pacifiers, and I've noticed that my pacifier in my poker game continues to be my tight-nut-peddling ways. that culiminated Friday with me folding J,10 on a 10,10,Q,3 board to an aggro maniac when he only bet the pot. Sad, sad, sad. A string of coolers had left me weak/tight and scared to get my money in with anything but the nuts, but after he flashed me 10,4, I realized I gave up a great opportunity to win a lot of money, and that's just as much of a mistake as calling off your chips.
(Poker note: I have seen more money lost from everyone I've played with when they trip up then any other scenario, even with overpairs to the board. So the fold isn't terrible, but I made the cardinal sin of ignoring my opponent's tendencies. If it was a tight player the fold wouldn't be too bad. Why do most push with trips when it's essentially a pair with an extra card. Kickers still play, people, and you're also doomed if someone has a set. I tend to play these with medium pots unless I know my opponent or have a great kicker).
So Saturday I raised and raised and raised some more, and I once even shoved with a set on an all-flush board. Normally I don't play big pots on all-flush boards with a flush myself, but the guy bet the pot and I was convinced he had something like A,K for TPTK and a flush draw. When the J paired the board I knew I was good and sure enough, he showed A,K with the A of spades.
This is not a breakthrough. I've gotten more aggressive these last few months. It's merely a notch, and notches are how we make more money and eventually move up in levels.
I've spit out that pacifier for now.
It's time for Jayden to lose his.
P.S. Pimping is in order here.
I've enjoyed the coverage at this site quite a bit (congrats Pauly on your cash).
But seeing as how I've contributed to the coverage on this site, and it also features the work of a couple good blogging buddies, I'm favoring this one right now.
So here's the pimp!
Monday, June 11, 2007
Pop culture Monday and MY exciting weekend
"The Sopranos," other than "The Simpsons," is probably my favorite show of all time.
And I'm not pissed off today.
Most fans of the show are, but not only have they forgotten what the show's about, they didn't really watch the show. I think they were too busy slobbering over whether Tony would get shot or go to jail or what what what and failed to see just how much this show actually did resolve.
I won't go into detail. It's not my job to be a spoiler, and in this age of DVRs I know it's possible some of you may not have seen it yet.
The Sopranos remains one of the more real shows on television ever, regardless of all the mob stuff, thanks to this ending.
Yes, the ending was a little strange. I remember cocking an eyebrow at it (as much as I can, I'm not very good at that), but I like the way Chase left it up to you to decide how you want the show to end. I actually loved that part of it actually.
Finally, here's the thing, folks. Final episodes are NEVER satisfying. There's too much expectation. Imagine planning to have sex with someone for six months. The tension would build and build until the day actually arrives. Sorry, but that session or two sessions or whatever won't ever measure up to your expectation for that day. No payoff can match that anticipation. Let's face it, with any successful series, the "last episode" hype and all the plot buildups over the years, the anticipation builds to the point where we're expecting strawberry lube and bubble baths and 50 mirrors and silk sheets and Barry White not only playing but singing in the damn room with you both and maybe even a friend joining in and toys and a video camera replaying everything in slow-mo and possibly even a hair metal ballad or two.
And the last episode of any well-loved series is just that, the final payoff.
It never measures up. "Cheers" failed, "X-Files" sucked, "Seinfeld" sucked and "St. Elsewhere" was just weird (the whole hospital was just a snow globe in some autistic kid's head?). The only episode that lived up to it was "M.A.S.H." and that was just too easy because the show was about a war, and when the war ends, the series ends and everyone says goodbye. Easy-peasy and not a fair comparison.
"The Sopranos" managed to end the series while avoiding all the cliches and yet also resolved many things and hinted at the future. The rest is up to you.
What's wrong with that?
• • •
We saw "Pirates" 3 for Kate's birthday. Mom stayed home with the twins and also watched Jayden. Newborn twins and a toddler. Mom is now crowned champion babysitter of all time.
Maybe I'm biased because I actually got a see a movie in the theaters with my wife, an event that happens now about as often as I had a girlfriend in high school, but I didn't think it was as horrible as the critics say it was. It wasn't great. In fact it has plenty of holes. But it's a summer movie. Summer is the only time I lower my expectations for movies. Usually they are pretty sky high. So the movie met my lowered summer expectations. Barely, though.
• • •
So you all got to go to Vegas eh? I had an exciting weekend too. I grilled chicken on the barbecue with my brother, did three 3 a.m. feedings and changed about 20 diapers.
Jealous?
I thought so.
P.S. My second article
in a series I'm writing for Pokerworks is up. It's been great working for Linda and I hope it can continue.
And I'm not pissed off today.
Most fans of the show are, but not only have they forgotten what the show's about, they didn't really watch the show. I think they were too busy slobbering over whether Tony would get shot or go to jail or what what what and failed to see just how much this show actually did resolve.
I won't go into detail. It's not my job to be a spoiler, and in this age of DVRs I know it's possible some of you may not have seen it yet.
The Sopranos remains one of the more real shows on television ever, regardless of all the mob stuff, thanks to this ending.
Yes, the ending was a little strange. I remember cocking an eyebrow at it (as much as I can, I'm not very good at that), but I like the way Chase left it up to you to decide how you want the show to end. I actually loved that part of it actually.
Finally, here's the thing, folks. Final episodes are NEVER satisfying. There's too much expectation. Imagine planning to have sex with someone for six months. The tension would build and build until the day actually arrives. Sorry, but that session or two sessions or whatever won't ever measure up to your expectation for that day. No payoff can match that anticipation. Let's face it, with any successful series, the "last episode" hype and all the plot buildups over the years, the anticipation builds to the point where we're expecting strawberry lube and bubble baths and 50 mirrors and silk sheets and Barry White not only playing but singing in the damn room with you both and maybe even a friend joining in and toys and a video camera replaying everything in slow-mo and possibly even a hair metal ballad or two.
And the last episode of any well-loved series is just that, the final payoff.
It never measures up. "Cheers" failed, "X-Files" sucked, "Seinfeld" sucked and "St. Elsewhere" was just weird (the whole hospital was just a snow globe in some autistic kid's head?). The only episode that lived up to it was "M.A.S.H." and that was just too easy because the show was about a war, and when the war ends, the series ends and everyone says goodbye. Easy-peasy and not a fair comparison.
"The Sopranos" managed to end the series while avoiding all the cliches and yet also resolved many things and hinted at the future. The rest is up to you.
What's wrong with that?
• • •
We saw "Pirates" 3 for Kate's birthday. Mom stayed home with the twins and also watched Jayden. Newborn twins and a toddler. Mom is now crowned champion babysitter of all time.
Maybe I'm biased because I actually got a see a movie in the theaters with my wife, an event that happens now about as often as I had a girlfriend in high school, but I didn't think it was as horrible as the critics say it was. It wasn't great. In fact it has plenty of holes. But it's a summer movie. Summer is the only time I lower my expectations for movies. Usually they are pretty sky high. So the movie met my lowered summer expectations. Barely, though.
• • •
So you all got to go to Vegas eh? I had an exciting weekend too. I grilled chicken on the barbecue with my brother, did three 3 a.m. feedings and changed about 20 diapers.
Jealous?
I thought so.
P.S. My second article
in a series I'm writing for Pokerworks is up. It's been great working for Linda and I hope it can continue.
Tuesday, June 05, 2007
There ain't no cure for the post-race blues
Sunday I ran five miles.
Every step was a struggle.
I could barely maintain a 9-minute-mile pace when just a week ago I was running at 8:35 without much effort.
So what’s the difference?
One is that not sleeping as well as I should - two tiny girls have something to say about that for now - may be catching up to me.
Two is I gave blood a few days ago, and that’s literally robbing your system of oxygen. At sea level that’s a slight problem. At 5,000 feet that hurts.
Mostly, though, I’m suffering from something else.
We runners call it the post-race blues, and I think it pertains to my life, not just my running.
The Bolder/Boulder is a tough race, and my body is still feeling the effects of running hard for 50 minutes.
This, though, goes beyond effort.
Training for an event is a tricky thing when your main goal is to be fit for life. You start to see the race, the mountain, whatever, in your bathroom mirror in the morning. Skipping a workout doesn’t happen because of The Goal. You eat well, sleep well (if you can) and take care of yourself. You are focused.
And then the day comes, and then it’s over.
It’s impossible not to have a letdown.
I have other goals for the summer. I have Race for the Cure, a 5K, on July 4. I have another 10K, the Human Race, on July 28. I have several mountains I’ll be guiding this summer. But those goals are distant, and the sense of urgency isn’t there right now.
And that brings me to the twins.
A birth, especially this birth, was much like a race. We didn’t know the exact day, but we worked for it, and when it got here, we worked and worked and worked and ran and charged up hills and got up at 3 a.m. and changed a mountain of diapers.
And then, well, now we continue to do it.
Parenting doesn’t have a finish line. That doesn’t mean there aren’t any letdowns.
The girls have been so good, I’m nervously waiting for the other, Exorcist-like side, to come out. I’m wondering if they’re good only because Mom is here, and when she leaves, will chaos, instead of being kept on the sidelines, will charge off the bench. I’m wondering if I’ll be getting up at 3 a.m. for months, not weeks.
I’ve gotten an invitation to play a home game this weekend. I hope I can make it but I’m thinking I can’t. I haven’t had a good poker game with my buddies in at least a month. I haven’t even seen a movie with them. I miss them. I am wondering how long it will take for Kate to start to view our increasingly clingy and active toddler as Dennis the Menace and not our lovable little guy.
The grind, already, is getting to me a bit.
My poker game has reflected the post-race blues a bit, seesawing back and forth $25 up and down, and yet I still believe I’m playing well. I’m playing, I believe, better than ever, dumping two pairs and sets with abandon when its so obvious my opponent has drawn out on me (and that has happened FAR TOO MUCH lately). Yes, it’s possible my opponents are merely making moves on me, but this being $25 NL, I doubt it. You just don’t see it at that level. Every other time someone else has looked them up, they’ve got their third club or that made straight.
There are days when life gets drenched in the post-race blues. One thing I have learned.
It’s best to attempt to put on your running shoes, put the feet forward, and start churning away toward the next high.
So here I go.
Every step was a struggle.
I could barely maintain a 9-minute-mile pace when just a week ago I was running at 8:35 without much effort.
So what’s the difference?
One is that not sleeping as well as I should - two tiny girls have something to say about that for now - may be catching up to me.
Two is I gave blood a few days ago, and that’s literally robbing your system of oxygen. At sea level that’s a slight problem. At 5,000 feet that hurts.
Mostly, though, I’m suffering from something else.
We runners call it the post-race blues, and I think it pertains to my life, not just my running.
The Bolder/Boulder is a tough race, and my body is still feeling the effects of running hard for 50 minutes.
This, though, goes beyond effort.
Training for an event is a tricky thing when your main goal is to be fit for life. You start to see the race, the mountain, whatever, in your bathroom mirror in the morning. Skipping a workout doesn’t happen because of The Goal. You eat well, sleep well (if you can) and take care of yourself. You are focused.
And then the day comes, and then it’s over.
It’s impossible not to have a letdown.
I have other goals for the summer. I have Race for the Cure, a 5K, on July 4. I have another 10K, the Human Race, on July 28. I have several mountains I’ll be guiding this summer. But those goals are distant, and the sense of urgency isn’t there right now.
And that brings me to the twins.
A birth, especially this birth, was much like a race. We didn’t know the exact day, but we worked for it, and when it got here, we worked and worked and worked and ran and charged up hills and got up at 3 a.m. and changed a mountain of diapers.
And then, well, now we continue to do it.
Parenting doesn’t have a finish line. That doesn’t mean there aren’t any letdowns.
The girls have been so good, I’m nervously waiting for the other, Exorcist-like side, to come out. I’m wondering if they’re good only because Mom is here, and when she leaves, will chaos, instead of being kept on the sidelines, will charge off the bench. I’m wondering if I’ll be getting up at 3 a.m. for months, not weeks.
I’ve gotten an invitation to play a home game this weekend. I hope I can make it but I’m thinking I can’t. I haven’t had a good poker game with my buddies in at least a month. I haven’t even seen a movie with them. I miss them. I am wondering how long it will take for Kate to start to view our increasingly clingy and active toddler as Dennis the Menace and not our lovable little guy.
The grind, already, is getting to me a bit.
My poker game has reflected the post-race blues a bit, seesawing back and forth $25 up and down, and yet I still believe I’m playing well. I’m playing, I believe, better than ever, dumping two pairs and sets with abandon when its so obvious my opponent has drawn out on me (and that has happened FAR TOO MUCH lately). Yes, it’s possible my opponents are merely making moves on me, but this being $25 NL, I doubt it. You just don’t see it at that level. Every other time someone else has looked them up, they’ve got their third club or that made straight.
There are days when life gets drenched in the post-race blues. One thing I have learned.
It’s best to attempt to put on your running shoes, put the feet forward, and start churning away toward the next high.
So here I go.
Monday, April 02, 2007
Sunday in the park - it came after a constant cry
Yes, after writing that column below about how much I love my son, you might think that love is constant.
Well, sometimes I need reminders.
This weekend was tough. Jayden had the worst three-day stint of his little life in at least a year after he began taking medicine for acid reflux.
He was fussy, whiny, cranky and even a bit bratty.
A lot bratty, even.
By the end of Saturday, I had forgotten how much I loved him.
You never stop loving your children. At least I don’t think so. I haven’t yet. But those feelings of undying devotion had faded a bit. Constant screaming, crying and a general attitude of “I want my way” all the time will eventually wear you down, I discovered.
To make things worse, I was busy all day Saturday decorating the bedroom (our last taskof officially being moved in, something that had to wait until the room was painted) and also battling the new faux wood shades in the hopes that they would eventually hang. The decorating went fine, given my faux women’s touch for that.
But my talent for such things like, er, taking a screwdriver and hanging blinds is not exactly on the level of Home Improvement Host. It is not really on the level of Normal Guy. It is more along the lines of Kindergarten. Barely.
So things like installing blinds in the bedroom leaves me a little frustrated. And quite pissy.
A kid screaming at me tends to exacerbate the situation.
Oh, and it terrified me, seeing him act that way. We’re having twins, ya know. We don’t need a toddler filled with angst running around as well.
I tempered my pissyness with a little understanding, just like when a guy goes all in and cracks my AA with KK. Hey, it’s KK.
Hey, Jayden is still less than 2 and just got over a seriously bad illness that left his throat sore and spiked his temperature for four days. He was probably still really worn out and may still have been sick. So I understood.
Kinda.
So Sunday I got up, put Jayden in the running stroller and took him to the park. Maybe it would help.
It was exactly the reminder I needed:
My son is a great little guy. He’s also a little guy. Along with the wonders and joys and pleasures of having children comes occasionally with hissy fits that bend your paitence into pretzels.
The good with the bad.
That is, after all, the vow I took with my wife.
The reminder I needed is I took that same vow when Jayden was born.
Well, sometimes I need reminders.
This weekend was tough. Jayden had the worst three-day stint of his little life in at least a year after he began taking medicine for acid reflux.
He was fussy, whiny, cranky and even a bit bratty.
A lot bratty, even.
By the end of Saturday, I had forgotten how much I loved him.
You never stop loving your children. At least I don’t think so. I haven’t yet. But those feelings of undying devotion had faded a bit. Constant screaming, crying and a general attitude of “I want my way” all the time will eventually wear you down, I discovered.
To make things worse, I was busy all day Saturday decorating the bedroom (our last taskof officially being moved in, something that had to wait until the room was painted) and also battling the new faux wood shades in the hopes that they would eventually hang. The decorating went fine, given my faux women’s touch for that.
But my talent for such things like, er, taking a screwdriver and hanging blinds is not exactly on the level of Home Improvement Host. It is not really on the level of Normal Guy. It is more along the lines of Kindergarten. Barely.
So things like installing blinds in the bedroom leaves me a little frustrated. And quite pissy.
A kid screaming at me tends to exacerbate the situation.
Oh, and it terrified me, seeing him act that way. We’re having twins, ya know. We don’t need a toddler filled with angst running around as well.
I tempered my pissyness with a little understanding, just like when a guy goes all in and cracks my AA with KK. Hey, it’s KK.
Hey, Jayden is still less than 2 and just got over a seriously bad illness that left his throat sore and spiked his temperature for four days. He was probably still really worn out and may still have been sick. So I understood.
Kinda.
So Sunday I got up, put Jayden in the running stroller and took him to the park. Maybe it would help.
It was exactly the reminder I needed:
My son is a great little guy. He’s also a little guy. Along with the wonders and joys and pleasures of having children comes occasionally with hissy fits that bend your paitence into pretzels.
The good with the bad.
That is, after all, the vow I took with my wife.
The reminder I needed is I took that same vow when Jayden was born.
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
And then one day, he looked up and smiled
I'm writing a new column for the Greeley Tribune, something that tries to capture slices of life. Next week's column will be on a 4th grader who came out of her shell to sing at a performance of "Annie."
But I wanted to start it with a personal column, and I figured this would make a good blog entry as well. I don't know if I'll share the column every week. It kind of depends on you.
See you at the Mookie tonight.
Here it is:
As many times this column will rely on strangers sharing some personal confessions, let me start it by offering one of my own.
I did not expect to love my son as much as I do.
I expected to be a good father. I expected to raise him right. I expected to have him want to stay with me, one day, and hold my hand as I took my last few breaths of life.
But I expected to hold back a bit. It’s what I’ve always done in life. Only those closest to me, my wife, my parents and my brother, have bridged the gap between them and my heart. I’ve had close relationships, man hugs, poker buddies, a crew of adults for game nights, really good friends and lots and lots of acquaintances, but I always budgeted the amount of emotional investment I stashed into them.
That didn’t mean I didn’t care about them. Far from it. I cared about some a great deal. But the gap, even if it was a small one, served a purpose: It was much easier that way.
If the relationships faded, and many times, they did, even the ones I cherished, it was OK to remember the good times and say goodbye.
Even today, most of my relationships are safe and somewhat distant.
Only Jayden, in his 21 months, has reached what I call The Daddy Spot.
There’s nothing safe about the Daddy Spot. When he hurts, I hurt. When he cries, even about stupid stuff like when he wants to use our computer and his allotted time is up, my heart breaks. And when he’s not with me, I worry.
I not only didn’t expect this, I am shocked by it. Before I had kids, I didn’t really like them. I thought of them as demanding little creatures with sticky hands and dirty diapers. As someone who valued his free time more than money (and I keep a pretty tight budget), I didn’t look forward to my moments with a great book, a great movie, a great card game, a great dinner with my wife or a great trip to the mountains being replaced by spit up, “Goodnight Moon” and trips to McDonalds.
I still found myself a little resentful after he was born. Kate, who didn’t care if I went for this run or played that softball game suddenly and understandably questioned the moments I wasn’t home. When I was home, which was a little more than I initially liked, Jayden sat in my lap and cried all the time.
To help Jayden bridge my gap, Kate often pointed out that it was my voice, among the symphony of voices he heard, that connected with him. His eyes would widen, and he would look around to find out where I was.
Then, one day, when he did find me, probably whining about how tired I was and ready for a break, he looked up and smiled.
A baby’s smile isn’t as piercing, frantic or unsettling as a cry, but it works exactly the same way. It grabs your attention and latches on, refusing to let go, until you act.
When a baby cries, you change a diaper, get a bottle or walk up and down a staircase 40 times.
When a baby smiles, you begin to love it in a way that you never thought it was possible to love another human being.
At least, I didn’t.
The goal of this column is to offer you slices of life, packaged at times with a deeper meaning that we all must find in ourselves. Most of the time, we’ll explore them through other people. Occasionally, I’ll do it myself.
Kate is pregnant again, and this time, I expected things to be fine. I could do it. In fact, maybe this time, the baby wouldn’t have to work so hard to bridge the gap. Maybe I’d extend a hand and lead her along.
One month ago, we found out we’re having twins.
Oops.
All those feelings of anxiety, of worry and downright fear are back. I worry for Jayden. I worry for Kate. I worry mostly for myself.
How will I find enough time to fall in love again?
I will attempt to remind myself that I’m more confident welcoming a newborn across the gap than last time.
I will attempt to remind myself to continually lower the bridge.
And in these next couple months, until the girls arrive, I will attempt to remind myself that diapers are diapers, sleep is overrated and your free time isn’t gone, it’s just different.
Mostly, though, I’ll work really hard on saving enough space for twins, next to their big brother, in The Daddy Spot.
But I wanted to start it with a personal column, and I figured this would make a good blog entry as well. I don't know if I'll share the column every week. It kind of depends on you.
See you at the Mookie tonight.
Here it is:
As many times this column will rely on strangers sharing some personal confessions, let me start it by offering one of my own.
I did not expect to love my son as much as I do.
I expected to be a good father. I expected to raise him right. I expected to have him want to stay with me, one day, and hold my hand as I took my last few breaths of life.
But I expected to hold back a bit. It’s what I’ve always done in life. Only those closest to me, my wife, my parents and my brother, have bridged the gap between them and my heart. I’ve had close relationships, man hugs, poker buddies, a crew of adults for game nights, really good friends and lots and lots of acquaintances, but I always budgeted the amount of emotional investment I stashed into them.
That didn’t mean I didn’t care about them. Far from it. I cared about some a great deal. But the gap, even if it was a small one, served a purpose: It was much easier that way.
If the relationships faded, and many times, they did, even the ones I cherished, it was OK to remember the good times and say goodbye.
Even today, most of my relationships are safe and somewhat distant.
Only Jayden, in his 21 months, has reached what I call The Daddy Spot.
There’s nothing safe about the Daddy Spot. When he hurts, I hurt. When he cries, even about stupid stuff like when he wants to use our computer and his allotted time is up, my heart breaks. And when he’s not with me, I worry.
I not only didn’t expect this, I am shocked by it. Before I had kids, I didn’t really like them. I thought of them as demanding little creatures with sticky hands and dirty diapers. As someone who valued his free time more than money (and I keep a pretty tight budget), I didn’t look forward to my moments with a great book, a great movie, a great card game, a great dinner with my wife or a great trip to the mountains being replaced by spit up, “Goodnight Moon” and trips to McDonalds.
I still found myself a little resentful after he was born. Kate, who didn’t care if I went for this run or played that softball game suddenly and understandably questioned the moments I wasn’t home. When I was home, which was a little more than I initially liked, Jayden sat in my lap and cried all the time.
To help Jayden bridge my gap, Kate often pointed out that it was my voice, among the symphony of voices he heard, that connected with him. His eyes would widen, and he would look around to find out where I was.
Then, one day, when he did find me, probably whining about how tired I was and ready for a break, he looked up and smiled.
A baby’s smile isn’t as piercing, frantic or unsettling as a cry, but it works exactly the same way. It grabs your attention and latches on, refusing to let go, until you act.
When a baby cries, you change a diaper, get a bottle or walk up and down a staircase 40 times.
When a baby smiles, you begin to love it in a way that you never thought it was possible to love another human being.
At least, I didn’t.
The goal of this column is to offer you slices of life, packaged at times with a deeper meaning that we all must find in ourselves. Most of the time, we’ll explore them through other people. Occasionally, I’ll do it myself.
Kate is pregnant again, and this time, I expected things to be fine. I could do it. In fact, maybe this time, the baby wouldn’t have to work so hard to bridge the gap. Maybe I’d extend a hand and lead her along.
One month ago, we found out we’re having twins.
Oops.
All those feelings of anxiety, of worry and downright fear are back. I worry for Jayden. I worry for Kate. I worry mostly for myself.
How will I find enough time to fall in love again?
I will attempt to remind myself that I’m more confident welcoming a newborn across the gap than last time.
I will attempt to remind myself to continually lower the bridge.
And in these next couple months, until the girls arrive, I will attempt to remind myself that diapers are diapers, sleep is overrated and your free time isn’t gone, it’s just different.
Mostly, though, I’ll work really hard on saving enough space for twins, next to their big brother, in The Daddy Spot.
Thursday, March 01, 2007
The mind of a 2-year-old
The title is two-fold. For one of those folds, see below. For the first, my brain pouted and threw itself on the floor and kicked and screamed after getting clobbered in showdowns with way the best hand in SnGs. If my hands hold up when they should last night I'm ahead probably $35. Instead I'm down that much.
I was planning on feeling sorry for myself, going on a Waffles rant and maybe having a crap in my diaper when I read Trip Jax's post entitled "The Bitch and Whine Fest" yet again and cured myself of my impending snit. I have had, after all, seven winning weeks in a row, and I'm still up almost $600 for 2007 playing fairly low limits, so eventually variance is gonna say "We ain't gonna have THAT!" and decide to kick me over and over until my lower region looks like a couple of playground kickballs.
Such is poker, and such is life, too.
The night started bad when I had connection issues with Full Tilt, and I was literally typing in "Vegas1" when the Mookie got underway. Great final table match, guys, and congrats to Schaub on another 2nd place finish.
I'll be at CC's bash tonight. See you there. Teach me something.
• • •
Here's the second fold, and I have to admit I got this idea (*cough ripped it off *cough) from this terrific blog about twins.
Here's a day in the life of Jayden when Dad takes care of him.
Oh, good, Clifford. I like that big red doggie.
Man, Daddy looks tired.
I'm thirsty. I want some milk. I'll take Daddy's hand and lead him to the kitchen.
Is that my pacifier? Oh man do I need that thing. Must. Have. Pacifier.
That's better.
Daddy keeps telling me to sit with him, but I'd rather walk around.
Hey, look, the dog's water bowl! Oh man is this thing fun. You can put stuff in the water bowl and splash around in it!
What's that yelling? Oh, Daddy keeps saying something like 'No." Wish I knew what that meant. It's pretty funny though.
Can we play on the computer?
This computer is great. I love doing this coloring game. I have no idea why Daddy looks so bored. We've only done it 500 times this week. That's not enough.
I want to look out the window. Maybe if I climb up on this ledge and then climb up on this other ledge and then climb up on this piece of furniture.
That's better. Why is Daddy saying that No word again? I want to see the moon!
Oh, is my diaper dirty? I hadn't noticed.
Hey, look! Something sharp! Cool!
Oh, rats. Daddy took it away.
OK, lunch time. Grilled cheese again? It's funny when I throw this on the floor and the doggies gobble it up. Dad is saying that No word again.
It's already time for a nap? What? No way, man. I'm not....even....tir.....
(Editor's note: Two hours later, I hope)
OK, I'm awake. Daddy. Daaaaady!!!! I'm alone in this crib and I don't like it.
Oh, there he is.
Hi, Daddy. I'm kinda sleepy. Can you hold me for a few minutes?
Although some juice would be great right now.
Why does Daddy keep taking my pacifier out of my mouth? I NEED that thing.
Now we're going to the place called Wal-Mart to buy food. It's fun to bend my back and hang onto the door so Daddy has to struggle to belt me in.
Wow, lots of stuff here, and....
wait....
IS THAT LITTLE EINSTEINS ON A BOX? HOLY MOLY I LOVE LITTLE EINSTEINS!!! Why is Daddy saying we can't buy that kind of cereal? No way am I letting go of this box. Daddy I'm serious I'm gonna scream.
Why is Daddy sighing and putting the box in the cart! This is a great day! The cereal looks really good too! (Editor's note: It wasn't, unless you like sugary cardboard).
OK, we're back. I'm going to celebrate by taking all the pots out of the bottom drawer and bang them together.
There's the water bowl again.
Can we play on the computer again?
NO? Why not?
Mom's home! Who-hoo!
Where did Daddy go?
I was planning on feeling sorry for myself, going on a Waffles rant and maybe having a crap in my diaper when I read Trip Jax's post entitled "The Bitch and Whine Fest" yet again and cured myself of my impending snit. I have had, after all, seven winning weeks in a row, and I'm still up almost $600 for 2007 playing fairly low limits, so eventually variance is gonna say "We ain't gonna have THAT!" and decide to kick me over and over until my lower region looks like a couple of playground kickballs.
Such is poker, and such is life, too.
The night started bad when I had connection issues with Full Tilt, and I was literally typing in "Vegas1" when the Mookie got underway. Great final table match, guys, and congrats to Schaub on another 2nd place finish.
I'll be at CC's bash tonight. See you there. Teach me something.
• • •
Here's the second fold, and I have to admit I got this idea (*cough ripped it off *cough) from this terrific blog about twins.
Here's a day in the life of Jayden when Dad takes care of him.
Oh, good, Clifford. I like that big red doggie.
Man, Daddy looks tired.
I'm thirsty. I want some milk. I'll take Daddy's hand and lead him to the kitchen.
Is that my pacifier? Oh man do I need that thing. Must. Have. Pacifier.
That's better.
Daddy keeps telling me to sit with him, but I'd rather walk around.
Hey, look, the dog's water bowl! Oh man is this thing fun. You can put stuff in the water bowl and splash around in it!
What's that yelling? Oh, Daddy keeps saying something like 'No." Wish I knew what that meant. It's pretty funny though.
Can we play on the computer?
This computer is great. I love doing this coloring game. I have no idea why Daddy looks so bored. We've only done it 500 times this week. That's not enough.
I want to look out the window. Maybe if I climb up on this ledge and then climb up on this other ledge and then climb up on this piece of furniture.
That's better. Why is Daddy saying that No word again? I want to see the moon!
Oh, is my diaper dirty? I hadn't noticed.
Hey, look! Something sharp! Cool!
Oh, rats. Daddy took it away.
OK, lunch time. Grilled cheese again? It's funny when I throw this on the floor and the doggies gobble it up. Dad is saying that No word again.
It's already time for a nap? What? No way, man. I'm not....even....tir.....
(Editor's note: Two hours later, I hope)
OK, I'm awake. Daddy. Daaaaady!!!! I'm alone in this crib and I don't like it.
Oh, there he is.
Hi, Daddy. I'm kinda sleepy. Can you hold me for a few minutes?
Although some juice would be great right now.
Why does Daddy keep taking my pacifier out of my mouth? I NEED that thing.
Now we're going to the place called Wal-Mart to buy food. It's fun to bend my back and hang onto the door so Daddy has to struggle to belt me in.
Wow, lots of stuff here, and....
wait....
IS THAT LITTLE EINSTEINS ON A BOX? HOLY MOLY I LOVE LITTLE EINSTEINS!!! Why is Daddy saying we can't buy that kind of cereal? No way am I letting go of this box. Daddy I'm serious I'm gonna scream.
Why is Daddy sighing and putting the box in the cart! This is a great day! The cereal looks really good too! (Editor's note: It wasn't, unless you like sugary cardboard).
OK, we're back. I'm going to celebrate by taking all the pots out of the bottom drawer and bang them together.
There's the water bowl again.
Can we play on the computer again?
NO? Why not?
Mom's home! Who-hoo!
Where did Daddy go?
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