Last weekend she wrote her entire name for the first time. I don't care if your baby genius wrote his name when he was just two. I don't care what you think about her achievement unless you are as proud of her as I am. Congratulations, Harper, on learning to write in your native language. This is an important milestone, and we are very proud of you. Now Daddy's going to need you to write some books for him at work. Thanks for earning your keep sweetie.
Harper has been in preschool for two months, and she's already learned more than we've tried to teach her in two years. Structured learning environments with social interaction are actually worth it people.
Last weekend she wrote her entire name for the first time. I don't care if your baby genius wrote his name when he was just two. I don't care what you think about her achievement unless you are as proud of her as I am. Congratulations, Harper, on learning to write in your native language. This is an important milestone, and we are very proud of you. Now Daddy's going to need you to write some books for him at work. Thanks for earning your keep sweetie. So I have this beautiful face. Everyone is familiar with it. Sometimes hair grows on it, and sometimes I get it tamed. Other times I let it grow freely, like a little self-contained hippie commune on my face. My lovely wife likes to be (purposefully) ambiguous over her feelings for the face monster, but she only seems really concerned when I shave it off into her clean sinks. Therefore, I generally shave outside. (Gotta keep the peace if you want food to eat.)
I was up until 2AM this morning. I would like to say I was being a productive member of society, growing the U.S. economy, and providing important things for my family. I would like to say it, but honestly, I can't. I was playing a computer game. Deal with it. Anyway, I slept well, but woke up to the cruel reminder that (1) I had to take Harper to school, and (2) I had to record video at work today. All that would have been fine if I hadn't woken up at 7:25AM - just a few minutes from when I want to be leaving in the morning. I looked at the creature on my face, we said our goodbyes, and I retrieved the trimmer. Alarmingly, the battery was dead, and I have the one trimmer ever created by infernal man that won't let you just use it on AC power. I knew what needed to be done. I feared it, but I knew. I took up my trusty manual razor, I changed the blade, and I lathered my face Santa-Claus-thick in shaving cream. I knew this was going to be terrible, but I was not prepared for the true awful reality. First pass - grabbed a chunk of fur, yanked it and attached face flesh into razor, razor devoured all it came in contact with. I made a noise. It was quite - if you're deaf. I developed a new plan. Revised plan, first pass - like hot knife through butter. Amazingly, you can actually shave in both directions using a simple back and forth motion. Who knew? Like an emaciated zombie cow my Mach 3 trimmed, cut, and, in fact, shaved my face like a boss. Freshly made smooth like the baby bottom, I surveyed the damage in the sink below. It was bad, no lie. I commenced to rinsing, herding, and forcibly removing at gunpoint any little hair people that otherwise refused to leave the sink bowl for that water reclamation plant in the sky. I shaved, I overcame, and I cleaned up. Fresh off of this victory, I hurriedly completed the remainder of my morning tasks before leaving the house. I even remembered to take Harper with me so I could drop her off at school. Win. Other than having "ouch-I-hurt-face" all day today, it's gone swell. Did a great video filming, ate good food, and now, it's time for some R&R, sans face forest, of course. "I have an existential map. It has ‘You are here’ written all over it."
- Steven Wright "I cannot call to mind a single instance where I have been irreverent, except toward the things which were sacred to other people." - Mark Twain “If you want to tell people the truth, make them laugh, otherwise they’ll kill you.” - Oscar Wilde “Some editors are failed writers, but so are most writers.” - T. S. Eliot "In dwelling, live close to the ground. In thinking, keep to the simple. In conflict, be fair and generous. In governing, don't try to control. In work, do what you enjoy. In family life, be completely present." -Lao Tzu My eldest - dear, sweet Harper - is attending her preschool orientation tomorrow. I'll be there too, obviously. I know it's the beginning of something amazing for her, but it's also the end of something pretty amazing for me. My little girl is growing up. It is unbelievable to me that she is ready to start school. She'll be 4 in October, which is also a little surreal to think about. On the one hand, it seems like she's been with us forever, but on the other it seem like yesterday that I brought her home from the hospital. Preschool will be great for her though. She will love interacting with the other kids, and, the way her mind works, she will love soaking up all that information and learning "big kid stuff." This first semester, she'll be attending only two days a week. We may make it three next semester if it is worthwhile and something she wants to do. We are going to get to ride in together in the mornings, which is how I grew up - riding to school with my Dad. While we are both excited about that part, the cruel shock of having to get up and get ready that early will become a regular source of contention, I'm sure. Harper is a special kid, a great kid. She'll do great at school as long as she learns to keep that pretty little mouth shut. She'll make new friends, and she'll learn skills that she will use for the rest of her life. I'm happy to be her Daddy, and I hope she doesn't get too much smarter than me too quickly. I know I'm going to have to listen to that in years to come, but right now I just want her to learn while still admiring me. Yes, that would be very nice. My wife says that one of the things she likes most about me is how easily impressed I am by almost anything. I must admit that this is true, to a point. You know that guy who just likes being sad, depressed, and terrible to be around? Well, I'm not that guy. I'm the other guy - the guy who really likes being happy. Because I like happiness so much, I sometimes get a little over excited about things that most people would find mediocre to just down right dull. Luckily for you, this post is not actually about my happiness OCD problem. Last weekend I made the arduous drive - some eight teeth-pulling hours - to my hometown in Alabama. I took the wife, the little child, and the boxer dog. (The elder child was already there on sabbatical.) The occasion of my journey was the college graduation of my little sister, Bethany. Why, you ask? Bethany impresses me. Bethany had this childhood dream of becoming fluent in German and working for the U.N. For a kid in middle school, that's fairly ambitious and quite detailed. She stuck with this dream, went to a college with a program that would perfectly fit her plan, and worked as hard as she could to make her plan work out. But just like me, when Bethany got to college she realized her dream wasn't exactly what she had envisioned. She could have given up, got a "husband degree," and moved on, but she didn't. Bethany decided she wanted to be a teacher. She transferred to the University of Alabama, and she got accepted into its elite Multiple Abilities Program (MAP). She applied herself; she did well; she helped others succeed. She studied abroad in South Africa for a semester; she applied for a job in our hometown school system; she got it. Her first class of students arrives in two days. Last weekend, Bethany graduated summa cum laude, or for the English speakers, "with the highest honors." We've competed with each other for years in terms of who got a better grade or a better ACT score, but quite honestly, in this case, she bested her brother. I'm proud of her and for her. She will make an excellent teacher, and she will make a difference in the lives of the kids she comes in contact with everyday. I'm excited to see what all she can accomplish. Congrats, Bethany. A good friend informed me of an important fact the other day - a fact I had failed to perceive on my own. It's surprising that I didn't notice it myself. It's just the sort of thing I would normally notice and perhaps even point out to others.
The title of this wonderful site is based on the "See Spot Run" early reading books for kids. I love simplicity. There is something incredibly attractive to me about serenity in design and concepts that make obvious but insightful references to other concepts that create an impactful experience for those that interact with them. Basically, I love things completely unlike that last sentence. So, back to the original point. My friend pointed out that, in the mind of the marginally disturbed, my site title could easily be mistaken as some extremely inappropriate, overtly sexually-themed material. I was immediately caught off guard because this simple notion hadn't occurred to me before. As soon as it sank in though, I had to contribute a chuckle. Let me say though, if you came here hoping to "see Eric go" in that sense, you are going to be sadly disappointed. This is a family site. My kids will (maybe, actually, no, not at all likely) read this some day. Do you think they want to see that? Man, I hope not. If they do, I've seriously screwed them up even more than I thought. I love my site title. It is exactly what I want it to be, and it perfectly captures my intentions for what this site is and will be. Therefore, I will not be changing the title. Hopefully you'll still be just as interested in "seeing me go" in an above-board fashion. Enjoy watching, but please, don't stare. Some parents sleep. We do not. In fact, we spend so much time awake that we might as well just not try sleeping at all. My wife and I have the privilege of raising two wonderful girls. However, one skill neither of them possess is the ability to enjoy a long meaningful sleep - meaningful to their young bodies and meaningful to their poor parents' sanity. Like most things though, when you leave the kids alone, they seem to sleep just fine. They never sleep when you want them to, but they seem to have no problem sleeping on their own accord. See incriminating evidence below. Penelope sank into a comfy beanbag and had a little nappy-poo. Harper did the same exact thing the very next day. It would seem that there is a lesson to be learned here. There is always a lesson. Parenting is actually the best way to find out that you know nothing. It is a sure fire way to have any feelings of superiority yanked right out from under you. Children are smaller than us, not as smart or experienced, and less physically capable. Why is it that they can instantly make us feel so completely inept? Like Little Boo Peep, who lost her sheep, if we leave them alone, we may just find that they end up doing what we wanted them to do in the first place. That's obviously not a hard and fast rule, but I've got to file this back in the folder for things Dad needs to think about on a regular basis. Man, I'm tired. Where's my beanbag. I'm takin' a nap........ Hello dear blog. How I've missed you. I didn't mean to stay away so long, but I was just too freaking busy to spare you the time you so eagerly want and so definitely deserve. I know that you are jealous because the Work Blog has been getting my attention and you have not. I will remedy that now. I hope that this humorous tale involving my dear children will entertain you and satiate your anger toward me.
I have dramatic kids. It can't be helped. They are at least half the result of their mother's DNA. I love all of my girls, but from time to time the estrogen ocean at my house rouses a fierce gale equivalent to a brick wall. Both Harper and Penelope have their individual dramatic flair, but Penelope has had the benefit of watching and learning from Harper. She has become a master of the dark arts of dramatic performance. Two tales follow, one for each kid, and I hope that you all enjoy a laugh at this poor father's wonderful plight. Harper and Her "Feelings" More so than Penelope, three-year-old Harper is a lover. She is affectionate, caring, and a snuggler. Now she can throw a fit, don't get me wrong, but generally speaking, she is more emotionally expressive than her sister. Harper has adopted what I refer to as a "pitty phrase." She breaks it out whenever something doesn't go her way. It is "you hurt my feelings." Now, in her defense, this is a true statement. Anything contrary to Harper's wants and desires does, in fact, hurt her feelings. Her happiness really does depend on getting her way. Poor thing. But it's not the phrase that is so hilarious. It's the double-handed, weak-kneed, body-crumbling expressive dance that goes along with the phrase that makes it hard to keep a straight face. I'll have to post a video of this sometime. This kid is awesome! Oh, no! You fixed Harper some water instead of letting her do it (even though you had no idea she wanted to do it herself)? Collapse; the world is coming to an end; "you hurt my feelings." Egad! You didn't say the right thing while pretending to be the mother while she was playing Alvin and the Chipmunks? Downfall of western civilization; gruesome dismemberment; "you hurt my feelings." Man I love this kid. If nothing else, the shear entertainment value of her faux misfortunes is enough to carry through all the things that actually aggravate me about her. Classic. Can't wait to put this back on her one day. Penelope and Her Faceplants Oh my goodness. Next to "dramatis personae" in the dictionary is a picture of Penelope doing the faceplant. Not a normal faceplant mind you - she knows that would actually hurt. I'm telling you, this kid is clever...frighteningly clever. At dinner, Penelope will inevitably want something not on her plate. It's the same thing she has on her plate; it's just on your plate and not hers. Act One, Scene One - action! Penelope now lowers her head slightly, begins loud, shrill screams of agony, and covers face with the tops of her hands. Everyone stares intently. Penelope opens one eye to ensure she still has her audience. Reassured, she plunges her head into her plate, usually aiming for the ketchup to ensure adequate messiness. She then lifts her head slowly to reveal the damage, again verifies her audience's attention, shrieks in agony, and plunges her head back to the plate. Bravo infant, bravo. Here's your Academy Award - Outstanding Performance in a Dinner Roll/Role. Tired of cleaning up this mess, me - the ever intelligent, decided to slide the plate away from her during a recent performance. As she began down into the plate, she realized it wasn't actually there. The crying stopped, of course, and she looked at me perplexed. She reached over, slid the plate back in front of her, and resumed the show. I moved the plate again. Realizing I was onto her game, she grinned ever so slightly before once again resuming the performance and planting her snot-covered face directly on the glass table top. Gotcha Dad. Having kids is great. Having my kids is amazing. They never cease to amaze me, and they never seem content to just be average. They always want to take it to the next level - one up themselves and each other. For now, it's kind of adorable, albeit slightly messy. In 10 years I probably won't feel that way anymore. Shoot, in 10 years I'll squirt ketchup on both of 'em myself! |
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