Come On, Feel The Noise

No words needed for this little ditty.

One Thing Leads To Another

I told the previous story so I could tell this one.

Ellie survived the quick stomach flu, and was sledding a day later along with her sister, a number of the neighborhood kids, their parents, and me. There is a vacant lot about half a block away with an amazing slope. We will surely miss it next year, since we expect it to have a home built on top of it.

The three-year old was timid about riding the steep mountain, but she felt safe in my arms on our thin piece of plastic that we refer to as a sled. She and I took the virgin flight, and as expected, she absolutely loved the adventure. Her big sister wanted to share the fun with her, so the two of them boarded and proceeded to fly down the hill, hit a bump, and swerve right into a port-o-potty conveniently situated directly in their path. That was about the end of our sledding experience for the day, but I was able to encourage her to go down one more time with me. As I was placing her onto my lap, she took the oversized mittens that enveloped her tiny hands, and covered her entire face to avoid seeing our trip. By the time we reached the bottom of the hill, she was squealing with delight.

"I flewed!" she exclaimed as we started our trek back up the mountain.

As we reached the top, a neighbor friend that noticed Ellie covering her eyes before we left asked, "Ellie, did you peek at all going down the mountain?"

To which Ellie promptly replied in a very adult-like informative tone, "I did the last day in da cup but I had to stay at home and not go to Manissa's (Melissa, the baby sitter) so I laid on the couch and wested."

I had to clarify the question to the child, as well as the answer to my puzzled neighbor, "You PUKED yesterday, honey. Did you PEEK through your mittens today?"

Yakety Yak

My three-year old performed a well-executed puke into a pitcher this past Friday. The stomach bug that had been whirling around at the baby sitter's finally landed in the belly of my little one. After soiling Abbie's pillow (a delight to wake up to) we were suspicious of her health. She acted fine and we made excuses that it was simply a choking spell that brought the small bit of bile out into the open.

As Abbie drove with the girls to start the day, Ellie began to spew, and baptize my new truck's back seat with the little amount of breakfast we gave to her. It was at that point we knew something was "up."

So she was spending the day on the couch resting, and continually telling me that she was hungry. I gave her a little water, and waited. I instructed her what to do if she thought she was going to puke again. I placed the large container directly to her side. She found it very interesting and practiced with imitated gags and coughs. Now, this is a disgusting lesson, similar to explaining to youngsters that it is okay to place your head down towards the same place where they are expected to urinate into the toilet. To my very pleasant surprise, Ellie can take instruction well, as she used the pitcher correctly to collect the upcoming round of vomit.

As a parent, you always feel helpless in this sort of situation, however, I was gleefully proud to inform her mother of her accomplishment. That was, after she reveled in telling the story in her own misshapen string of words.

Was A Jolly Happy Soul

Lots of cold snow this weekend. Great for sledding, but poor for building snowmen. That didn't stop my girls though.

My Girl

Following in her father's footsteps, my six-year old daughter got her first pair of glasses today. I think she was as excited as when she got her ears pierced. It is another form of apparel, I suppose.

I was six and in kindergarten when I got my first spectacles. I do not have the same worries my parents had to have though. The fear of a football crashing and shattering the expensive eye wear is not the biggest concern in our household right now. We are more afraid of the Speedy Gonzales maneuvers of her three-year old sister.

I wasn't given much support at the doctor's office either. The energetic woman that assisted us smiled, while looking directly at me and said, "I will be seeing you soon."

We are all very happy for Emma.

I Hear The Secrets That You Keep

Getting ready late last night to go to bed. I checked on my sleeping beauties and nearly giggled them awake.

Le Freak, C'est Chic

The wiry boy that can't sit still looked at me as I desperately tried to get him to work on his assignment. He stared and blurted out in a Tourettes-like way, "You have a weird face!" A speck of his slick saliva from his stabbing mouth landed on my upper lip.

I looked at the clock and realized I still had half an hour before I could quietly slip my disfigured poisoned head out of the classroom.

Don't Need Reason, Don't Need Rhyme

As newlyweds, my wife and I lived in my in-laws guest house in Sedona, Arizona. My beautiful bride was finishing up her teaching degree while I worked about 45 minutes away at my firs "real" benefit-provided professional job.

I owned an ancient Honda Civic station wagon that had been a trusty friend throughout my college days. I was reminded about the vehicle recently when my kids began screaming for music to be turned on the car stereo the moment we buckled our safety belts.

"I once had a car that had no radio in it." I lectured. They sat puzzled. Dumbfounded and I believe a little confused as to what the hell that had to do with playing the Sponge Bob Square Pants movie soundtrack they desperately craved. My statement stopped their fingernails-on-the-chalkboard shrieks just long enough for me to clarify myself. It appeared they thought that Daddy was completely going insane. "So I would go everywhere in silence, without anything to listen too." I emphasized.

I think I heard crickets.

"That means that you can live without a song, or noise in the car once and awhile." I continued to ramble since I was given the crazy-guy space they felt I needed at the time.

Then the silence ceased. Anguished heart-broken cries of injustice wailed.

In the winter months, I would leave for work in the dark and return in the dark. It could of been depressing, but I was living the dream man. Later that year, as the aspen buds began to bloom, I noticed one afternoon an oncoming brown Isuzu Trooper approaching ahead. The headlights flashed a couple of times. I thought there was an accident ahead. I lifted my foot off of the accelerator, and stared at the driver of the approaching Trooper. I don't know what I was expecting, but as we passed each other, a woman with long, straight brown hair lifted her arm and waved vigorously at me with a beaming smile on her face.

I was completely shocked. Talk about a random act of kindness. It made my day, although I had forgotten all about it by the time I pulled into our driveway.

Not long afterwards I saw the same Isuzu Trooper flashing it's lights at me as I was going to work in the morning. The straight, long, brown-haired waiving and smiling woman passed me again. This time I had a better idea of what was happening, so I jerkily lifted one hand off of the steering wheel in a classic Chief Cigar wooden statue manner.

This was the start of our game. From there on out it was something to do on the road between here and there. As long as I was on schedule, we usually saw each other and spread a little happiness along Highway 89A.

It was something special, but I never thought about sharing it with anyone. Actually, I never really thought about it until one afternoon recently, I saw the woman coming into town. The same Isuzu Trooper. The same long brown hair. I just about flipped out of the driver seat waving. Then I realized, she did not know who I was because I was no longer in my Honda station wagon.

Then I had to explain to my wife, who sat in the passenger seat next to me, the commuter affair I had years ago.

Brass Monkey

Our friends told me this one. Their daughter, lets call her "Darlene", just turned six. She is my oldest daughter's best friend, "In the whole wide world!" (exaggerated high-pitch voice needed to accompany to get the full effect).

It was getting close to her birthday, and the family was singing the version of "Happy Birthday" that I enjoyed most at that age.

"...You look like a mon-key...... And smell like one too!"

They had a bout of laughter before "Darlene" who is very shy and hates to be laughed at, pulled her father to the side and asked in an elf-like whisper, "Daddy, what is a 'one too'?"

Like A Surgeon

Emma and Abbie were having a discussion following her Kindergarten teacher's recent surgery that kept her out of the classroom the end of December. Emma wanted to know why she wasn't attending.

"Well, you know, she was probably sore after the surgery, so that is why she wasn't in your class." Abbie said.

"How do you know?" Emma interrogated like a cynical teen.

"I had surgery when you and your sister were born. So I know how sore you are after having an operation." Abbie reminded the vigorous 6 year old mind.

Emma thought in her casual, silent way she always does before she added to the conversation.

"And Daddy had that surgery on his leg so you and him can't have any more babies?" she added with a nod of complete understanding.

Nor Does The Wind, Nor The Sun, Nor The Rain

It has been three years and a handful of hours since my brother died.
Metaphorically I have decided that he is my martyr, for I am still striving to be a better person.
Ironically, I have less good intentions than before his death.
And Honestly, I recognize that I need them more than ever.

Cheers Hermano.