Not being there

Way back in November, as the polls were closing and the realization that a new day was near, Wifey and I said we would be "there." "There" of course was the National Mall for the inauguration of Barack Obama. Living in the D.C. metro area provides us with a wealth of opportunity. We have world-class museums, often free of charge. We have restaurants, theater, music, comedy, national events, all within 11 miles of our house. However, living here also affords us a great deal of realism. We understand what it means to sit in hours of gridlock, traffic of epic proportions, delays on our substandard mass transit system that just can not move the amount of people who sometimes need to be moved.

All of those things collided this week as we realized that it would just be absolutely insane to try to get downtown for the ceremony. Even though this is a once in a lifetime opportunity we thought it would be wrong for us to try to drag our kids down there in single digit (wind chill puts it at a balmy 8 degrees) temperatures.

So as I sit in my office at work, enjoying a nice hot beverage and eating my breakfast, I watch the CNN newsfeed and all these jubilant but freezing people down on the Mall. I mourn my nonattendance but I realize that it was a good choice.

Good luck Mr. Obama, and stay warm.

Another "had to be shared" video

Now that the election is over, and Bush is safely being put out to pasture, I don't tune in to see Olberman much any more. I miss his rants, his far superior grasp of the words I'd love to be able to use, his style when calling someone a tool but being so smooth about it. So, when I came across this tonight it just brought a huge smile to my face. No, it's not my old friend Keith, this is a new face to me. I don't watch CNN much, if at all, so to some of you he may be well known. But he's got a new fan, let me tell you.

Thanks to Rick Sanchez for calling out Stupid the Plumber for the rest of us. He has that and a whole lot more coming to him...

Like a kid in a candy store!

Yup, I'm about that excited. Why you ask? One simple word....

I am a 33-year-old painfully white male who, tomorrow, will see Metallica for the first time. I am so freaking excited it hurts. I had a chance to see them my first summer home from college when they were playing the Orange County fairgrounds on June 16, 1994 (I just looked it up, I wasn't that scarred!) during the - and I'm not kidding about this - "Shit Hits the Sheds" tour. They were warming up for their appearance at Woodstock '94 and this moron, your's truly, couldn't scrape together the $25 needed to join my friends at the concert. Yeah, you heard me right. I couldn't find a lousy $25 to get in. What a moron. Did I say that already?

Anyhow, I'm joining three really good friends and we are all going to get in touch with our white trash selves and drive up to Philly for tomorrow's concert. We got a hotel on the cheap, we're bringing our own beer and we're taxiing to and from so it will be a totally awesome night with no worries.

I can't freaking wait!!!! Did I already say that too?

METALLICA!!!!!!!!!!

Another example of how I'm apparently very different

When Wifey and I heard that our second pregnancy (I love that guys use "our" in that way - we are soooo inconsequential in that whole equation it's just absurd to say we/our/us) was going to "result" in a baby girl we were absolutely thrilled. For years all we heard was my Mom wistfully say how she wished she had a little granddaughter in the family (wonder where all that went?). We knew that it would be so wonderful to bring some balance to the equation in our household and raising a little girl would be a fantastic experience to share.

When other people found out we were going to have a little girl the smart-a$$ed comments started rolling in. "She'll have you wrapped around her little finger" people would tell me. "Uh-oh, just wait until those eyelashes start fluttering, you'll melt like butter" was another of my favorites. I heard that type of crapola non-stop. I looked back in disbelief. Did these people know me? Had they ever seen me interact with JAM? Did I ever give in when his cute little face whined or smiled or pleaded with me? I'm proud to say that Wifey and I have always been of the mindset that giving in when that started meant the kid would learn that whining meant we would eventually give in. We'd see it all the time - in the mall, in the supermarket, in Wifey's school... the little kid would make enough fuss and the parent would think it was easier or better to give the kid what they were after. Then, the next time, the kid knew that no really wasn't no, all they needed to do was make just a little bit more noise.

We hated that.

With a passion.

So, we promised each other that when JAM came along there would be no backing down once a decision was made. It was tough though. It made us become extremely thoughtful in our decision making. It made us learn to anticipate what the other was thinking so we didn't give different answers. JAM hated that. He learned that our answers would always be the same. He also learned, the hard way, that if he asked one of us then he should not ask the other and expect a different answer. Wifey even wrote about a funny story where he admitted that same thing when we weren't around to hear (see "number 2" in that post).

Where the heck is all of this coming from?

Twice in the last few days I've been reading other Dad's blogs where they've related stories about how they've dealt with Daddy-daughter interactions. The expectation, to different degrees, was that the Daddy should melt at the first sign of cuteness and the daughter would (of course) get exactly what she was requesting. Now there is no telling the actual outcome of these interactions because said authors were not that forthcoming. I can guess they folded faster than the speed of light but we'll at least pretend to give them the benefit of the doubt. :)

So how does this make me feel?

I've tried to find some graphical representation for my feelings....

This is how I think I should feel.

This is how I usually feel.

Did I miss something? Is there yet another chromosome missing from my DNA chain? Am I legally or morally required to forego all rational thought when the mere threat of a tantrum raises its ugly head? Trust me, it would really be easier. Tonight, for instance, I had to bring Red up to sit on her bed YET AGAIN for screaming her fool head off because she wasn't going to get "azert" - dessert to the rest of us - because she hardly touched her dinner. Nice relatively calm dinner torn apart, yet again. We had told her, nice and calm-like, that she needed to finish her dinner if she wanted dessert (which really means make at least a half-hearted attempt, including eating at least one of her two baby carrots). We calmly said it a second time. Then a third. And I think about 342 more times. Then my ears literally ruptured from the cry of this little banshee. Sorry... when the scream happens it is time to visit the bedroom. Would it have been easier to say "Sure! You can have a Hershey's kiss just please, for the LOVE OF ALL THAT'S HOLY PLEASE DON'T SCREAM AT US ONE MORE EVER LOVING TIME!!!!!!!!!!!!"? Yeah, it would have been easier. But what would have been the point in saying no in the first place? What would have been the point of at least attempting to teach her good eating habits, what a proper dinner is, and our expectations that good for you food comes before snack food?

I know I missed something. I know I'm supposed to be the one to give in. My little girl wants something!

But still, people still don't believe me when I say that s&%t don't fly around here.

We'll wait to see how this all turns out for us. Well-adjusted or shacking up with "Killer" and his kicking El-Camino. I'll let you know.

And I think it is safe to say that poor little, unsuspecting, Pudge... is screwed.

Oh how funny! Sorry Wifey. :)

(http://despair.com/viewall.html)

Saving lives, one pint at a time

Normally in my life a pint is used to describe how much beer I would like to have in my hand at any given time. However, I am happy to announce that "pint" has taken on a new meaning today. It has been more than a decade since I've last donated blood but today I made up for lost time and jumped back on the bandwagon. My employer, a large UARC in Maryland that shall remain nameless (don't try to figure it out or we'll have to visit your house late at night), is wonderful enough to schedule multiple on-site donations each year which makes this process so easy it is absolutely impossible to not participate. The Red Cross brings in this rickety old bus and it feels like we're on an old episode of M.A.S.H. laying on these "beds" with tubes sticking out of our arms. But let's just say there wasn't exactly any "Hot Lips Houlihan" taking care of me! No worries though, the ladies were very kind if a bit bored with their daily activities.





And, as if saving lives weren't cool enough, I've got to let all of my readers (both of you) in on a very sweet "contest" being spearheaded by a blogger friend of Wifey's. You've got to check out Manic Mommy (or should I say MaNiC MoMMy?) and her way cool contest and give away -

MaNiC MoMMy'S ViRTuaL BLoG FoR BLooD DRiVE !

So, my proof----

If I win I'll totally invite all of you to join us in sunny Florida. Either that you you can all divvy up the kids so Wifey and I can try to remember what it feels like to be adults again.

I enthusiastically encourage everyone to join me in restocking your area's blood banks. They all need the donation and you get to look real cool and tough with your Spider Man Band Aid. :)

Success!

In the words of the enlightened Col. John 'Hannibal' Smith, "I love it when a plan comes together." I'm happy to report that the gingerbread house was a success. The whole family got in on the act of decorating on New Year's Eve and we had a blast. A lot of work went into it, a lot of materiel was consumed without coming in sight of the house itself, and a lot of smiles and laughs were had.

Evidence...

The house glued together.


Wifey and I putting the Chex on for the roof.


JAM and Red unwrapping the mint candies.


Red and her Daddy.


JAM and Red helping Wifey.


Red helping Wifey decorate the tricked out gingerbread Christmas tree (see below for said tree).


JAM eating more than his fair share. I was wondering where the Twizzlers were going.


Red, actually smiling!


JAM and my step-mother. She and my father were very gracious in letting us absolutely destroy their kitchen for about 4 days.


It's done!


The back - nicely decorated by yours truly. Don't mind the slightly out-of-whack left hand window.


Notice the tree? No possible space for more sprinkles. YUM!



Close up of Wifey's beautiful wreath with realistic-ish bow. :)


And now, as if I needed to point out my geekishness, your 360 degree view of Christmas deliciousness...