A few weeks ago, my local Toastmasters held it's annual humorous speech contest. I competed against two other very talented, funny people and was very grateful to be selected as the winner for best speech.
Luckily for you, or maybe not, we record all the speeches at our club and I decided to share mine with anyone who cares to watch it. The title is "My SAHD Life" and believe it or not, I talk about being a SAHD. The sound quality is a little rough, the punchlines are really rough, but enjoy.
CK
Friday, September 30, 2011
Monday, September 26, 2011
I Hate You Google
Google does a lot of wonderful things. They have the bestest search engine. Their homepage is ridiculously simple (Facebook, Yahoo, everyone else take a hint). And the Doodle is entertaining. You have to love their "Don't Be Evil" motto.
But this time, they have gone too far. Last night, I was enjoying my testosterone by lounging with my feet up on the couch, beer in hand, watching the Steelers at Colts football game. Then, it came on the air. In 60 seconds, I was a blubbering, sobbing mess. They tapped into what I like to call, the Daddy nerve. I've never really had a problem with crying or getting over emotional about stuff, until the Daddy nerve got activated a few years ago. It takes situations that are sad, happy, or otherwise emotional that involve children and projects that moment on to your life. You don't get choked up over what's happening in the movie, show, or whatever you're reading. But when you picture yourself and family in that situation, its game on.
For example, when we watched 'How To Train Your Dragon', there is a father-son story line that had me swallowing back the waterworks while my wife thought it was a "cute" movie. Not that my son and I have a rift that will be healed by an intense bonding experience in a 90 minute movie, but I can picture something like that. Owen wants to be a .400 average right handed power hitter, and I'm disappointed that he won't become a lefty with a 100 mile an hour fastball. Ultimately, he hits the game winning homerun in Game 7 of the World Series and we reconcile at the plate. You know, stuff that's likely to happen.
The worst though is the tragedies that project onto my life. I'm incredibly blessed to have two healthy children, but when the wife was pregnant with Lily and Owen was about 2 years old, there was a story in the local paper about a couple. They had a 2 year old little boy, and got pregnant with a little girl. During an ultrasound, it was determined that the little girl developed without a brain and would not survive after birth. It was devastating, and I made the mistake of reading their story at the office where I spent probably an hour hiding under my desk and trying not to disturb my coworkers.
The only good that came of the story was that the parents defied Dr. orders to terminate the pregnancy and worked tirelessly to overturn rules that said the baby's organs could not be donated to other children in need. This poor child did not survive, but several other kids were helped by the organ donations. Not only was this a tragic story, it had that element of 'We overcame this terribleness to find a way to help others.'
Here is the ad. It's just an awesome, beautiful commercial and I just watched it again for about the fifth time. Still cried, but it's not as bad. I must warn you, if you are a parent, are going to be a parent, or have a soul, have a tissue ready.
I just hope that Google finds restraint and doesn't air it too often during college football and NFL games. The last thing I need is to be in a biker sports bar when it pops on and I'm in the fetal position weeping. Of course, it may be a good way to get free girlie drinks.
CK
But this time, they have gone too far. Last night, I was enjoying my testosterone by lounging with my feet up on the couch, beer in hand, watching the Steelers at Colts football game. Then, it came on the air. In 60 seconds, I was a blubbering, sobbing mess. They tapped into what I like to call, the Daddy nerve. I've never really had a problem with crying or getting over emotional about stuff, until the Daddy nerve got activated a few years ago. It takes situations that are sad, happy, or otherwise emotional that involve children and projects that moment on to your life. You don't get choked up over what's happening in the movie, show, or whatever you're reading. But when you picture yourself and family in that situation, its game on.
For example, when we watched 'How To Train Your Dragon', there is a father-son story line that had me swallowing back the waterworks while my wife thought it was a "cute" movie. Not that my son and I have a rift that will be healed by an intense bonding experience in a 90 minute movie, but I can picture something like that. Owen wants to be a .400 average right handed power hitter, and I'm disappointed that he won't become a lefty with a 100 mile an hour fastball. Ultimately, he hits the game winning homerun in Game 7 of the World Series and we reconcile at the plate. You know, stuff that's likely to happen.
The worst though is the tragedies that project onto my life. I'm incredibly blessed to have two healthy children, but when the wife was pregnant with Lily and Owen was about 2 years old, there was a story in the local paper about a couple. They had a 2 year old little boy, and got pregnant with a little girl. During an ultrasound, it was determined that the little girl developed without a brain and would not survive after birth. It was devastating, and I made the mistake of reading their story at the office where I spent probably an hour hiding under my desk and trying not to disturb my coworkers.
The only good that came of the story was that the parents defied Dr. orders to terminate the pregnancy and worked tirelessly to overturn rules that said the baby's organs could not be donated to other children in need. This poor child did not survive, but several other kids were helped by the organ donations. Not only was this a tragic story, it had that element of 'We overcame this terribleness to find a way to help others.'
Here is the ad. It's just an awesome, beautiful commercial and I just watched it again for about the fifth time. Still cried, but it's not as bad. I must warn you, if you are a parent, are going to be a parent, or have a soul, have a tissue ready.
I just hope that Google finds restraint and doesn't air it too often during college football and NFL games. The last thing I need is to be in a biker sports bar when it pops on and I'm in the fetal position weeping. Of course, it may be a good way to get free girlie drinks.
CK
Friday, September 23, 2011
I'm Working
At some point during the last couple of years, we received a laptop from someone. It was a laptop for Owen with the letters ABC and numbers 123. The keys are also colored and different shapes for learning purposes. Click the spacebar and it plays classical music. It really is a very cool toy for Owen and he loves it. The only problem is that it's extremely loud. Like jet engine loud. Sure, it has a quieter setting, but what's the fun in that?
Owen recently found it after we'd hidden it in the wife's office to take a break from the thing. Since he got his hands on it, he's been hauling it all over the house. He'll set it up and start some music playing. If you ask him to turn it down, or put it down since it's lunch time, nap time, or whatever, he gets mad. "I'm WOOOORRRRRKKKKING!" Uh oh, looks like the excuse we use when we want to check emails, Facebook, or, in Julie's case, actually working is being turned against us.
He'll also tell us he's checking email. Now, I'm not sure who's sending him email, but I really hope the spammers haven't found him. I would hate for his extensive piggy bank holdings to go to helping Nigerian royalty. If he gets an email that promises to help him pee straight and hit the potty, I'll click any link in it.
And God help the wife and I if he starts a Facebook page. The last thing I need is a bunch of Farmville invitations and postings of lyrics from his favorite kiddie tunes that reflect the emotional development stage he is currently experiencing. 'The wheels on the bus go round and round. Like the forced daily routine my tyrannical parents impose upon me.'
CK
Owen recently found it after we'd hidden it in the wife's office to take a break from the thing. Since he got his hands on it, he's been hauling it all over the house. He'll set it up and start some music playing. If you ask him to turn it down, or put it down since it's lunch time, nap time, or whatever, he gets mad. "I'm WOOOORRRRRKKKKING!" Uh oh, looks like the excuse we use when we want to check emails, Facebook, or, in Julie's case, actually working is being turned against us.
He'll also tell us he's checking email. Now, I'm not sure who's sending him email, but I really hope the spammers haven't found him. I would hate for his extensive piggy bank holdings to go to helping Nigerian royalty. If he gets an email that promises to help him pee straight and hit the potty, I'll click any link in it.
And God help the wife and I if he starts a Facebook page. The last thing I need is a bunch of Farmville invitations and postings of lyrics from his favorite kiddie tunes that reflect the emotional development stage he is currently experiencing. 'The wheels on the bus go round and round. Like the forced daily routine my tyrannical parents impose upon me.'
CK
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Thomas the Tank Engine...of Death
We are really into kids shows now, though we do try to limit the amount of time he watches every day to less than 6 hours. He loves Fireman Sam, the Cat in the Hat (voiced by Martin Short), and a couple of other shows. The best one, by far is Word World. He points out letters all over the place and correctly announces which ones they are because of that show, so he can pretty much qualify for the 7th grade in most school systems.
But I want to point out a menace to society, Thomas the Tank Engine. Thomas is a horrible role model. One of Owen's first phrases was "Oh no! Mess," because that's pretty much what Thomas does every episode. Going too fast, racing other engines/helicopters/buses, not looking behind him before backing, carrying loads too heavy to show off, subterfuge, bigotry against diesel engines, breaking down and failing to deliver the goods (or the people). If the Nazis had invaded the Island of Sodor, Thomas is probably collaborating to be a really useful engine. But he'd be sabotaging their plans unintentionally.
Another phrase we have started using around the house is "Then there was trouble," because it's such a common announcement in the show. Thomas smashes through someone's front door because he wanted to go out on his own without a driver, failing to realize he needs a person to put his brakes on. And why is someone's house right at the end of the rails?
He often ignores necessary common safety equipment like cow catchers and snow plows, almost always resulting in a cow derailing the train or having to be dug out of a snow bank. He's constantly causing goods to be spilled, and he almost ruined the restoration of Great Waterton when he caused another engine to crash into a water tower, collapsing it in the middle of town. Not to mention how many £s in delays and repairs his accidents have caused.
Not to mention the fact that he is cheeky, easily annoyed, and devious, which contributes to his pattern of problems.
Where is the Transportation Safety Board to investigate and enforce the regulations? Are there even any regulations to begin with? I'm calling for Thomas and the Sodor Railway to open their records and let's correct some of these safety concerns before Thomas hurtles into a bus load of Nuns.
And what about my dear, precious little boy? He should be building train tracks and railways, building Lincoln log homes, and small towers with wooden blocks. Due to Thomas the Crap Engine's example, this is what happens to the Island of Owen's railway:
The dead end track hanging over a cliff looks awfully dangerous.
CK
But I want to point out a menace to society, Thomas the Tank Engine. Thomas is a horrible role model. One of Owen's first phrases was "Oh no! Mess," because that's pretty much what Thomas does every episode. Going too fast, racing other engines/helicopters/buses, not looking behind him before backing, carrying loads too heavy to show off, subterfuge, bigotry against diesel engines, breaking down and failing to deliver the goods (or the people). If the Nazis had invaded the Island of Sodor, Thomas is probably collaborating to be a really useful engine. But he'd be sabotaging their plans unintentionally.
Another phrase we have started using around the house is "Then there was trouble," because it's such a common announcement in the show. Thomas smashes through someone's front door because he wanted to go out on his own without a driver, failing to realize he needs a person to put his brakes on. And why is someone's house right at the end of the rails?
He often ignores necessary common safety equipment like cow catchers and snow plows, almost always resulting in a cow derailing the train or having to be dug out of a snow bank. He's constantly causing goods to be spilled, and he almost ruined the restoration of Great Waterton when he caused another engine to crash into a water tower, collapsing it in the middle of town. Not to mention how many £s in delays and repairs his accidents have caused.
Not to mention the fact that he is cheeky, easily annoyed, and devious, which contributes to his pattern of problems.
Where is the Transportation Safety Board to investigate and enforce the regulations? Are there even any regulations to begin with? I'm calling for Thomas and the Sodor Railway to open their records and let's correct some of these safety concerns before Thomas hurtles into a bus load of Nuns.
And what about my dear, precious little boy? He should be building train tracks and railways, building Lincoln log homes, and small towers with wooden blocks. Due to Thomas the Crap Engine's example, this is what happens to the Island of Owen's railway:
The dead end track hanging over a cliff looks awfully dangerous.
CK
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Times Two
We're on vacation with the wife's immediate family this week, in a lovely oceanfront house. That means Owen is spending a ton of time playing with his cousin, who is about 6 months older than he is. When we arrived on Saturday, I think it took about 3 minutes before the first fight erupted over a toy.
There is a school bus that the grandparents bought to keep at their house for the boys to play with when they came to visit. The bus is hugely popular because it's new every time and makes a lot of noise when you run screaming around the ceramic tile floors with it. The cousin was probably playing with it when Owen decided it was his turn. Lots of grabbing, crying, and pulling on the desired toy.
What was bizarre about the situation is that there are five (FIVE) buses here at the beach with us. They never want to play with one of the other four, just the one the other has. Even if both of them have a bus in each lil' fist, there is still one left over.
If only I could find a school bus to play with!
So far this week, we've had to break up epic fights between them over Thomas the tank Engine, a Hess truck, a small boat, various cars, dumptrucks, and, of course, whichever bus is fashionable at the time. Thankfully, we've been able to contain it with threats of timeout and the old, "It's his turn to play with it, it will be your turn in a little bit."
They have had a blast together and watching the peaceful little interactions has been really interesting. As I write this, they are in the cousin's room sounding like they're destroying something. Since it's in the cousin's room, I don't think I have jurisdiction and I'm not going in there. My sister-in-law just went into the room and said to them, "No, don't throw things at the fan." Ah, that's what that breaking sound was, sounds like an interesting experiment for two inquisitive little boys.
Yesterday, about dinner time, they found a 1,000 piece puzzle in a drawer and worked well with each other to open it up and start putting the puzzle together*.
* - Throwing it up in the air and pouring pieces over each other's heads.
When it came time to put the pieces back in the box, Owen was VERY helpful. When you got 100 or so pieces in there, he tried to pour it over his cousin's head. Both boys had to go to timeout while the puzzle was cleaned up and placed well out of reach.
Their favorite game at the moment is jumping on the air mattress in the cousin's room while one yells "A poo poo!" while the other yells, "Stinkies!"
I'm sure by the end of the week, we'll be sharing toys like champions, we'll have stopped screaming at the top of our lungs in a high-pitched voice in the house, and we definitely will not have broken the side of the couch next to the kitchen table by pushing on it too much.
CK
Updated: Within 5 minutes of posting this blog, they were fighting over a bus because one of them picked it up out of the lineup I created for the picture.
There is a school bus that the grandparents bought to keep at their house for the boys to play with when they came to visit. The bus is hugely popular because it's new every time and makes a lot of noise when you run screaming around the ceramic tile floors with it. The cousin was probably playing with it when Owen decided it was his turn. Lots of grabbing, crying, and pulling on the desired toy.
What was bizarre about the situation is that there are five (FIVE) buses here at the beach with us. They never want to play with one of the other four, just the one the other has. Even if both of them have a bus in each lil' fist, there is still one left over.
If only I could find a school bus to play with!
So far this week, we've had to break up epic fights between them over Thomas the tank Engine, a Hess truck, a small boat, various cars, dumptrucks, and, of course, whichever bus is fashionable at the time. Thankfully, we've been able to contain it with threats of timeout and the old, "It's his turn to play with it, it will be your turn in a little bit."
They have had a blast together and watching the peaceful little interactions has been really interesting. As I write this, they are in the cousin's room sounding like they're destroying something. Since it's in the cousin's room, I don't think I have jurisdiction and I'm not going in there. My sister-in-law just went into the room and said to them, "No, don't throw things at the fan." Ah, that's what that breaking sound was, sounds like an interesting experiment for two inquisitive little boys.
Yesterday, about dinner time, they found a 1,000 piece puzzle in a drawer and worked well with each other to open it up and start putting the puzzle together*.
* - Throwing it up in the air and pouring pieces over each other's heads.
When it came time to put the pieces back in the box, Owen was VERY helpful. When you got 100 or so pieces in there, he tried to pour it over his cousin's head. Both boys had to go to timeout while the puzzle was cleaned up and placed well out of reach.
Their favorite game at the moment is jumping on the air mattress in the cousin's room while one yells "A poo poo!" while the other yells, "Stinkies!"
I'm sure by the end of the week, we'll be sharing toys like champions, we'll have stopped screaming at the top of our lungs in a high-pitched voice in the house, and we definitely will not have broken the side of the couch next to the kitchen table by pushing on it too much.
CK
Updated: Within 5 minutes of posting this blog, they were fighting over a bus because one of them picked it up out of the lineup I created for the picture.
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Look At Me
My apologies for not posting a new blog in a while. Lots of work work and high level parenting going on lately. Owen is really getting in to "Do It Myself" mode, which entails me asking him to do something and his immediate response is "NOOOOOOO!!!!!! I do it myself!" Even if it's something he wants to do.
This has definitely been difficult to deal with, since my previous tactic was giving him about 10 seconds to respond before picking him up and taking him/putting him wherever I need him to be. However, I can't make him pee in a toilet or eat his dinner. This was so much easier when "We need to go to the store," so we go, diaper in place. Now, it's, "We need to go to the store so can you please go to the potty?" "NOOOOOOOOOOOOO, I DON'T WANNA GO POTTY." As he's doing the dance and holding it.
So I needed a new tactic. I call it the 'Look At Me' approach and I'm pretty damn proud of myself. I'm sure it's in some parenting books, but who's got time to read books when I have two youngin's yelling at me all day. Maybe I picked it up by watching Super Nanny with the wife and watching the REALLY bad parents.
You get down on his level, say authoritatively, "Owen, look at me. We need to go to the store, can you please see a man about a dog?" It usually works to get him to calm down and realize his eyeballs are floating. My evil plan has gotten him to use the potty before leaving the house, put pants on, take pants off, go inside, and whatever else I want him to do.
An alternative to this is the two options tactic. "Owen, look at me. I know you want to go to the playground naked and pee on the slide, but we need to wear pants. Do you want to wear this pair, or these ones. Yes, we will still go out in public with the mismatched shirt so your Mommy will be horrified at Daddy's clothing choices."
Just last night, I used 'Look At Me' to good effect during dinner. "Owen," I said calmly, "Look at me, I need you to sit down in your chair and eat. And please try to keep your penis from dangling in your dinner."
Yes, I said that at the dinner table, just before we played good hugging robot/evil baby-eating robot with his stuffed robot. Maybe letting him come to the dinner table without pants isn't the BEST parenting in the world, but you have to pick your battles.
CK
This has definitely been difficult to deal with, since my previous tactic was giving him about 10 seconds to respond before picking him up and taking him/putting him wherever I need him to be. However, I can't make him pee in a toilet or eat his dinner. This was so much easier when "We need to go to the store," so we go, diaper in place. Now, it's, "We need to go to the store so can you please go to the potty?" "NOOOOOOOOOOOOO, I DON'T WANNA GO POTTY." As he's doing the dance and holding it.
So I needed a new tactic. I call it the 'Look At Me' approach and I'm pretty damn proud of myself. I'm sure it's in some parenting books, but who's got time to read books when I have two youngin's yelling at me all day. Maybe I picked it up by watching Super Nanny with the wife and watching the REALLY bad parents.
You get down on his level, say authoritatively, "Owen, look at me. We need to go to the store, can you please see a man about a dog?" It usually works to get him to calm down and realize his eyeballs are floating. My evil plan has gotten him to use the potty before leaving the house, put pants on, take pants off, go inside, and whatever else I want him to do.
An alternative to this is the two options tactic. "Owen, look at me. I know you want to go to the playground naked and pee on the slide, but we need to wear pants. Do you want to wear this pair, or these ones. Yes, we will still go out in public with the mismatched shirt so your Mommy will be horrified at Daddy's clothing choices."
Just last night, I used 'Look At Me' to good effect during dinner. "Owen," I said calmly, "Look at me, I need you to sit down in your chair and eat. And please try to keep your penis from dangling in your dinner."
Yes, I said that at the dinner table, just before we played good hugging robot/evil baby-eating robot with his stuffed robot. Maybe letting him come to the dinner table without pants isn't the BEST parenting in the world, but you have to pick your battles.
CK
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