The one where I get in a big, moving, metal box.

For reasons still unclear, Rotormommy, Butters, and I are about to get into a recreational vehicle with the DIL, his wife, Rotormommy's brothers and her sister and set off for parts largely unknown for the Labor Day weekend. Having been subjected to the horror of traveling in a small RV with a bunch of family during my childhood, I'm looking forward to taking notes on this glimpse into the depths of the human psyche.

That and I want to be the one who makes the report to the state troopers when one of them snaps and kills the other.

This is going to be fun.

You are unique

Thank you M2.

My thanks

My thanks to all the offers to have webcams sent to me. I appreciate all the kindness exhibited by those who read this mess. Also, my apologies for not responding to the myriad of e-mails I've received, I'm swamped.

I truly have some of the best readers in the world. Thanks.

How to expand your child's vocabulary

It'd take about two and a half hours to trek north to retrieve Mac from the clutches of the harpy. While not an unpleasant drive in and of itself, it did require traveling through Nashville. I love Nashville, it's a beautiful city, but as with all cities, traffic sucks.

One of the more memorable treks there and back occurred while Mac was into the parrot stage of speech. “Parroting” is that wondrous stage during those formative months where your child will repeat every damn thing you say. Whether you want to or not.

The skies were still dreary, but at least the rain had let up as we past the Cool Springs mall headed south on I-65, but the traffic was horrid. Couple in the slick roads with a 1990 Dodge Dakota (318 c.i. V8 single cab. Fast. As. Hell.) and a twenty-two month old strapped into a carseat that liked to kick the transmission lever, and it wasn't the best driving conditions.

I should have known it was going to happen. It was just a matter of time really. And I don't recall exactly what kind of vehicle it was that cut me off, but I do recall being close enough to see that someone needed a stronger version of “Just For Men.”

Mere inches separated this asshat from being seated atop my hood.

My blood boiled.

The temper rocketed.

Hulk mad.

“You stupid ffff,” and I stopped. Somewhere in the vast echoing emptiness of my head, the nagging voice of the harpy stopped me from completing the most powerful of all words in the English language.

But from behind a pacifier clenched between the teeth of a curly haired cherub came three letters, strung together in one word.

“Uck.”

I had to pull over because of the tears that streamed down my face. Not only because of the laughter, but also out of the pride that the sweet little girl beside me could fill in the blanks.

Flash forward to last week.

The boy and I were loafing around town, window shopping guns, ogling boobies, pimping with the windows down and the radio up, good father-son bonding kind of things. Things were good. And yet, another asshat decided to jump in front of my pony.

“Thanks a lot, dick!”

And then, from the safe confines of his car seat, Butters sounded off with “dick.”

I am so proud.

Spit up on my shirt, and bottle in my hand.

Respect my pry-or-it-eyes

We be broke.

This isn't exactly a revelation. We're a little closer to the Clampets pre-cement pond, rather than living it up in Bev-er-ly. We manage, but finagling the finances to get the things we'd like takes a bit of skill. Food is always on the table, the bills are paid. There's soap in the shower to wash the naughty bits, and gas in the cars, but some of the things that make life a little more livable are often hard to come by.

With a URL like gamingwithbaby.com one could be led to believe that I spend a decent bit of time playing video games, but that's one of the luxuries that gets placed on the back burner. My subscription to Xbox Live recently expired, and aside from losing the ability to download game demos before Microsoft so graciously allows anyone that isn't a Gold member to do so, I haven't really missed it. There hasn't been much down the pipe that has me jumping up and down with joy and excitement anyway. And as anyone that's played anything through XBL can attest to, there's only so many times you can hear pre-pubescent white kids expressing their displeasure through colorful metaphors and bigotry before you want to eat razor blades for fun.

Oh course there's always the Wii, but playing online games on it is about as effective as using linguine as bonds of loves.

So, sans gaming, I could get out with my prodigy, but one of the happy side effects of this super-keen-happy-fun economy is that I tend to think of things in terms of the gas it takes to do them. A simple trip out and back to see my parents is two gallons. Various errands around town yield the same fuel usage, if not a little more. Rather than waste that gas in the pursuit of things to do, we stay largely shut in, venturing out only when absolutely necessary and when we can accomplish the most in one trip.

And before all my brothers from across the pond remind us once again how much they pay over there, I remind them that we live in a county where even the best public transportation systems pale in comparison to what y'all got over there. And contrary to Hollyweird, we don't all live in the city or within easy walking/cycling distance to the grocery, etc. North America today is a car culture not out of choice, but out of necessity.

Which brings us to a set of blue eyes that'd melt the ice on even the coldest of hearts.

I'm told that it's never been easier to deal than ever before. Between cell phones with free mobile calls, e-mail, and video conferencing parents separated from their kids have never had it better. Or so I'm told.

The problem of course is the fact that you can't hug a cell phone. You can't kiss an e-mail on it's forehead. You can't tuck in a video conference.

Oh sure, you're more connected, but in a way it makes the disconnect even harder. Hearing a voice, reading an e-mail, or seeing a smile through the computer isn't even close to a worthy substitute.

Especially when with every phone call you're asked when you're getting a webcam.

“We don't have the money right now Sweet Pea. But, soon.”

And so, it begins.

Seems that the misses has a hockey buddy.

So, you want to be a stay-at-home parent?

Good morning Mr. Hunt. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to provide care and guidance to a young child. You will be inserted deep into hostile territory with little resource available to you. You will be expected to avoid confrontation with enemy combatants in the form of well-meaning busy bodies and evade said forces whenever possible. As always, if you should become captured during your mission, the agency will disavow any knowledge of your existence. Good luck Ethan. This diaper will self destruct in five seconds....

The thing is, the missions undertaken by Ethan Hunt and the members of the Impossible Missions Force are a walk in the park compared to my average day. I mean, they only had to save the world, rescue the girl, and assassinate the dictator all within an hour. I've got to keep my sanity, clean, cook, shop, sew, launder, iron, vacuum, keep from skinning the cats alive, dust, scrub, prep, and fold.

Every.

Single.

Day.

And as glamorous as all that may sound, that's the easy part.

Meet the hard part. This is "Butters" for those of you that may have stumbled across these words from much greener pastures. Nearly seventeen months, three feet, and twenty-eight pounds, that seemingly cherubic face can reduce a man who used to blow things up for a living and can drill a gnat's ass at three hundred meters to a sobbing shell of his former self. That loving little face can go from from making your day to making you want to drink heavily in about the same amount of time it'd takes el presidente to prove his intelligence.

I've been having a seriously rough time of late thanks to the little man. He's cutting even more teeth and despite copious amounts of Tylenol and Orajel, he wails like a banshee damn near constantly. Not even the judicious application of 70s and 80s metal can drown out his ear splitting octaves. He's at a point where I wonder if there is any truth to the old "he's going to make himself sick crying so much" schtick. We've reached a point where I wonder if it wouldn't be better to attempt my grandmother's remedy for teething and give the little turkey a shot of Tennessee's finest.

Or maybe it was "drink it yourself so you can ignore it." Can't really be certain, but I'm pretty sure that's the way it's supposed to be done.

I considered putting him in a box marked "free puppies" and putting it on the curb, but, after calling Mac last night to see how her first day of school went, I was told that I couldn't do that to her brother. I think if she were here wanting to rip her ears off rather than in the Democratic People's Republic of Kalifornia, she'd change her tune. Right now, I'd kill for that kind of distance from this nightmare.

You see, in theory I'll be laying him down for his nap soon, at which time my wo-man will call to see how things are going and I will regale her with the tale of how her son is driving me bat-guano crazy.

For the enlightenment of those parents who don't stay home, this is how it works. When the kids have gotten to be too much, something shatters into a million pieces, or you just need to run screaming naked into traffic, the little one(s) immediately become "your son/daughter/kids." Upon utterance of said phrase, a clear message is sent to the other party letting them know that, "I can't deal with this crap right now and so help me if you don't rescue me from this you'll regret it because I have all day long to think of something to do to you befitting of the nightmare I am currently having to endure and I will unleash upon you a plague so vile that the whole world will know of the darkness that I have let loose."

And amazingly enough lacking the ability to push a watermelon out of one's loins in no way precludes one from the ability to let those words fly. I comes down to who is the one that's at home dealing with it. Testicles or ovaries, it doesn't matter, it's just one of those things that goes beyond sex or perceived gender roles right to the heart of what it means to be an at-home parent.

Long hours of isolation and torture in a situation that would cause the most iron-willed individual to snap from the stress and repetition of it all.

But for we few, we happy few, it is a venture worth all the headache and all the stress. At the end of the day, when the wee one is fast asleep no doubt dreaming of what way he will challenge your sanity the next day, you at least have the satisfaction of knowing that you, not some faceless daycare stranger, have brought your child safely through another day.

At which point you recap the day mentally and seriously consider calling the guys in the white coats to haul you off to the land of the padded room.

Rule breaker

The signs all say no bare feet and no drinking the water. He doesn't listen very well. Wonder where he gets that from?

Blogging... is high school.

I've to the realization that I am in high school all over again. There's the cool guys, like Discovering Dad, WIND IN YOUR VAGINA, and Joeprah. The sensitive guys that get all ladies, like Backpacking Dad. The hotties you lust for, but they barely bat an eye at you, like Redneck Mommy and Whiskey In My Sippy Cup. And then there's me, the quiet kid sitting in the hallway outside of class during lunch that no one pays much attention to. It's funny how being fourteen years removed from high school, I'm still the kid that people just pass quietly by.

Not that I mind it really, I like my solitude. But just once, I want to know what it's like to be at the top of the heap.

Eight, Ate, oh 8

Believe it or not, I've been blogging for quite a while now. Since before the last time nations gathered to be pompous nitwits and pit children against each other in a process that in no way resemble the ancient games. The original Olympic games were all about soldiering skills. Running, swimming, fighting, weaponry, and equestrian skills. What's more, participants in those ancient games competed in all the events, not just a couple of them. Today's Olympians by contrast are little more than one hit wonders. Take Michael Phelps out of the water, and there's little to nothing more that he could do.

And there's also the nudity that is lacking in today's games. Ancient contestants did it all au natural, with the only concession allowed being something to keep their bait and tackle in check. And keep in mind, the original Olympic games were a complete and total sausage fest, women weren't allowed to roll around naked together. No, that was reserved solely for the fellas. While nudity would certainly boost ratings for today's games, there are some things you just don't want to see naked. Greco-Roman wrestling. Fencing. Pommel horse. Any track and field event. But close your eyes for just a moment and imagine... the high dive.

At least the nudity would solve the problem of kids ruining their lives and bodies so early since they couldn't compete.

And now...

A gratuitous cute picture. Tell me he won't be neck deep in the ladies.

Ticked Off Tuesday

This is the inaugural post in what I hope will be a reoccurring series highlighting all the things that I just can't take anymore. Be it the oddities of everyday life, parenting, the media, popular trends, delusions of grandeur, maxi-pad commercials, Smurfs, general doucebaggery, dirt, memes, or the downfall of Western civilization, this is no holds barred honesty.

1. Bluetooth Headsets
These are one of those things that the second I see them I want to rip them off of the individual sporting them and hurl it into oblivion. And the thing that burns me more than anything about these damned devices are the people that wear them all the time. If you aren't operating your vehicle, which is a whole other thing, why in the hell is it on your head? All you're doing is sending a message to those around you about how cool you think you are. And what's worse, you have no consideration for those around you and carry on conversations seemingly to thin air. At least when you have a phone pressed to your head we can be reasonably certain that you aren't calling us an asshole, but with that damn headset on, there isn't that luxury.

2. Product Placement
This has gotten way out of hand. Now that my favorite TV shows are starting back up, it seems that the shrill tools in Hollywierd have decided that they don't have enough money, so they're getting more blatant about it. Take for instance two of my favorites, Psych and Eureka. Both of these shows are now branding background characters with Degree Absolute Protection and Dunkin Donuts logos. Actors are hocking these products as the characters they portray in commercial breaks for crying out loud! I like Shawn and Gus just fine, but I don't need them telling me about Alltel's service. This could almost be excusable if, and only if, there were fewer and shorter commercial breaks, but that hasn't changed. Can't wait to see how they ruin Chuck, Heroes, and all the rest of my favorites.

That's it for today folks. Many, many more to come.

State of the Union

It's been a rough year. In a little more than three hundred sixty five, we've dealt with the following (and in no particular order):

Chief's double bypass.
Mac's forced departure from Dixie and relocation to the DPRK.
Rotormommy got canned.
Death of a family member.
Loss of friendships (although not really that much of a loss in my book).
And probably so many other things that I'm simply blocking them out for fear of going on all "William Foster" or "Milton Waddams" on everyone.

This isn't to say that there hasn't been any good things to happen in the last year. You'd be hard pressed to find absolutely nothing but doom and gloom during the darkest of days. And even as seemingly bad as we've had it, there are many others who've had it a hundred times worse. But that's little solace in face of so much adversity.

All these things make me wonder, "why in the hell do I even bother?"

Why would any rational person do it?

Why would anyone choose to share these things with absolute strangers?



Because it helps.

Internalization of thoughts and emotions is never a good thing. Such dangerous actions is the first step towards telling people to "put lotion on the skin or else it gets the hose again." So rather than sit on it, I let it out. Albeit through what anonymity that teh interwebs affords, but it's out nonetheless. And that's way many of us do what we do.

Such seems to be the way things are going lately. Cryptic? Certainly, but it's spot on.

GwB Presents: MLB Power Pros 2008 for the Nintendo Wii

Admittedly, I am not a fan of "America's past time." The pacing of the game does little to keep my seemingly ADD riddled consciousness engaged, and watching said contest on television is right up there with attending a cat show in my lexicon of things to do. There is something to love about the game when experienced in person however. The smell of fresh cut grass, cold beer and warm hot dogs, and prime people watching make an otherwise excruciating spectacle quite tolerable, and even a little enjoyable. Sadly, the same can not be said for most baseball video games.


Baseball video games usually occupy that deep, dark pit of despair occupied by other sports titles. Individuals either love them, or hate them with little in between. But somehow, even with my cynical "hate every sports title save NHL titles" attitude, MLB Power Pros 2 shines like a beacon of goodness in the gloom of night. From it's cute anime like graphics, to it's audio commentary, I strangely love this title.

MLBPP2 is just fun. It's not one of those overly technical outings that so many other baseball titles subscribe to. From the moment you pop this title in your Wii, it's fun, unbridaled fun. But don't let my glowing fanboy like giddiness fool you, there's a serious baseball title buried beneath all the cute. This title manages to be approachable for those that dislike these types of titles, and very technical for those that like that sort of thing. It's the best of both worlds wrapped up in a great game.


From 2K Sports:

2K Sports and Konami Digital Entertainment, Inc., today announced the next iteration of the popular Power Pros baseball franchise, MLB Power Pros 2008, is now available on retail store shelves. With its comedic visual appeal of miniature Major League Baseball® player models, MLB Power Pros 2008 has attracted a dedicated following through its easy-to-use controls and addictively fun gameplay experience. Now with over ten different exciting game modes including the traditional Practice, Exhibition, League and Home Run Challenge, MLB Power Pros 2008 brings fans closer to the action than ever before.

“We’re proud to deliver another exciting baseball title for our dedicated fans to enjoy in an accessible and refreshing experience,” said Greg Thomas, senior vice president of sports development, 2K. “With miniature player models, pick-up-and-play controls and newly added features, MLB Power Pros 2008 provides pure entertainment and fun for all ages this season.”

MLB Power Pros 2008 offers fans the unique opportunity to act as general manager and control the destiny of their own franchise in Season mode or engage in entertaining role-playing story modes such as Success and MLB® Life. Gamers can also trade, sign free agents, coordinate practice schedules, purchase new equipment, call up and send down players from the Minor Leagues™, along with other management options to bring in fans, win playoff games and, eventually, earn the title of World Series™ champion.

Fans will also enjoy easy, pick-up-and-play hitting and pitching controls, support of 40-man rosters, change of ball speed, adjustment of defensive shifts, and a real-time bullpen check functionality for substituting pitchers. Along with intuitive Wii™ functionality, MLB Power Pros 2008 provides the option for players to import their Wii-based characters, Miis™, from their Wii or Wii Remote™ (up to 10 Miis) to participate in the exciting fun!

MLB Power Pros 2008, rated E for Everyone by the ESRB, is now available for Wii home video game system from Nintendo and PlayStation®2 computer entertainment system, and will be available in August for the Nintendo DS™. For more information, please visit www.2ksports.com/games/mlbpp2008.

I can't rave about this title enough, which is strange given the lack of words on the screen singing it's praise. I'm just that giddy about it. Words escape me. There is one really great thing about MLBPP2 that deserves all kinds of praise, you aren't stuck to using just the Wiimote/Nunchuk combo, if you have the Classic controller or an old Gamecube controller, you can use that instead. Keen!

Your kids will love this one, if they can wrestle it away from you that is.