Going Out of Business

Offer good while supplies last.

Okay, ladies.

If anyone out there is interested in owning their very own Mini Brian, this may be your last chance.  Consider it a Clearance Sale (one that may or may not be approved by the Mrs. - I can see where she might get upset) - I'm getting rid of my inventory and after that won't be restocking my stores, so to speak.

I'm officially going out of business November 21st.

I'm getting snipped.

Yes, it's truly an end of an era - one that started in puberty and netted me two blonde, high-maintenance (and expensive) tax-deductions.  And two, dear readers, is where I draw the line.   I don't want any more Goddamn kids.  Don't get me wrong, here - I love my kids and everything (no need to call the CPS), but I really don't want to go through the whole process of raising a baby again.

They're cute to hold for a few minutes, but after that you're constantly washing out breast milk stench from over-priced bottles (that fill entire dishwashing loads, preventing you from actually doing any dishes), changing diapers, dealing with fevers and rashes, bleaching toys ('cause everything goes in the mouth), and - my personal favorite - never sleeping.

Thanks, but no thanks.  Went through it twice, not again.

No, Kris and I have spoken about this continuously over the course of the last two years or so, and we decided that while my current insurance is awesome with this, we might as well take care of it.  I guess I can't be surprised that the overall price tag for this surgery is insanely low - $35 - after all, by destroying my ability to make more human beings, I'm saving them a lot of headaches and dollar signs down the road.  It makes good business since to cut me a ridiculously huge discount.

The specialist's office is in Kissimmee, surrounded by jungle.

I know general practitioners are fully capable of performing vasectomies, but I wanted to go to a specialist.  Seriously - if you were in the middle of a storm at sea, who would you rather have at the helm - a casual yachter who owns a boat and has previous experience taking his boat out in bad weather, or a crusty, old sea rover who's actually bored steering his vessel through thirty-foot tall waves?

Give me Ol' Salty any day of the week.

I had an appointment this afternoon with the guy that's going to be slicing up my balls - really nice guy who's been doing it for over 30 years and hasn't had a serious issue in all the years he's been doing it.  I had to take a half-day, which I wasn't fond of doing so early in the school year, but they require anyone going in for the surgery to have a consultation with the specialist first.

My future throne (I didn't get to break in the stirrups today.)

And to further inconvenience all those wishing to eliminate their ability to procreate the species, they require the spouse to accompany the would-be patient.  So Kris had to take a half-day too.

Anyway, the consultation wasn't much more than a "are you both sure you really want to do this?" speech, followed by a walk-through of the procedure (which I'll tell you about later - maybe after my balls have gone under the knife.)  He did ask that I drop my pants so he could feel around down there.

No matter how many times a doctor's done the ol' grope-and-feel in the past, that shit never fails to creep me out.

Let's do this.

So there you have it.  In less than two months - kicking off my Thanksgiving vacation, in fact - I'll be sterile.  Am I nervous about it?  Nope.  Second thoughts or lingering fancies of maybe someday raising more offspring?  Hell nope.

I'm looking forward to this, if only 'cause I've now got a prescription for Vicodin and orders to remain on Bed Rest for three days.

Wii U, Netflix, beer, and pajamas, anyone?

- Brian

Problem Child

Remember that shitty movie from the '80s or early '90s called Problem Child?  The really shitty one with the late John Ritter?  Know what I'm talking about?  This one:

Believe it or not, this was almost too expensive for me to use.

That movie was absolutely atrocious.  I once watched it on a greyhound-esque bus from Tamale to Accra back in when I was in Ghana, vacationing on the U.S. Government's dime serving diligently in the Peace Corps.  The Ghanaians on the bus watching this movie were disgusted with the main character's behavior (it could be said that he was, indeed, a 'problem child'), and remarked openly to one another throughout the movie how horrible the child was, and how much shame he was bringing to his family and his parents.

In fact, after awhile, the Ghanaians even started yelling at the boy in the bus' mounted TV, scolding him for his horrific behavior.

You know, how people do all the time here in the Civilized World.

Devouring a not-often-seen reward for good behavior. . .

Anyway, the reason I'm bringing all this up is 'cause, lately, Kris and I have been feeling a lot like these overly-emotional Ghanaian bus riders, venting our fury at something as unmovable and uncaring as a VCR playing a VHS tape through a mounted TV:

Our six-year-old.

The Cannonball is driving us f***ing crazy, America.  Not at home, really, but at school.  You may or may not recall that Alayna's always been somewhat of a class clown in school - God knows she's gotten in trouble for it from time to time - but nothing quite like this.

TV will kill ya.

So far this year, she's getting in trouble at least once a week.  Usually for talking out in class, or being off task, or not following instructions - that sorta thing.  She's not being disrespectful, or defiant, or anything serious. . . just the usual Class Clown nonsense.  Still, that kind of crap makes Kris and I look bad, so we've been taking privileges away on a regular basis.  She needs five 'greens' at the end of the week in order to get a treat Friday after school (usually ice cream or a Slurpee or something.)  On bad days, she loses TV for the night, which, apparently, is a fate worse than death for our kid.

Despite all of this, her behavior continues to fluctuate between doing 'just okay' in class and being a full-blown chatterbox.  It got so bad this last week that we had to revoke all screen privileges for the weekend - no TV, no computer, no LeapPad, no Wii, iPod, no nothing.  That was brutal, but it may have worked - Alayna's starting to turn it around.  Still too early to tell for sure, but here's hoping she keeps it up.

Class Dojo.  Class Clown deterring made easy.

Something else that might scissor-kick some sense into this chick is that her teacher recently started using Class Dojo in her classroom - an app that allows the teacher to input on-the-spot behavioral assessments (either positive or negative) for every student in the classroom throughout the day.  Parents can log in (via email or mobile app) to check out how their kid is doing at any time, and kids can even customize their student own, personal avatar (fittingly enough they're monster-themed - see Alayna's below.)

You better believe Kris and I have both downloaded this app to our phones so we can keep up on our Pain in the Ass' shenanigans on a regular basis.

A B- ?  We'll take it.

So yeah.  We have that kid.  Who'd a thunk it.

- Brian

As the Dust Settles

It ain't the Dairy Phil, but it'll do. . .

Hi again, readers.

We've been back in the grind of School/Work/Shittiness for about five weeks now, and so the weekly routine is beyond established.  Our day-to-day around these parts basically revolves around getting ready for school/work, going to school/work, coming home from school/work and trying to cram feeding, bathing, and getting ready for bed in a two-hour window.  We do this for five days, take a half of Saturday sitting around the house in our pajamas in a dazed stupor, attempt to go out and 'do something' in the afternoon/evening on Saturday, take care of yard work and/or go to church Sunday morning, work on house chores/lesson planning/keeping kids entertained Sunday afternoon/evening, and repeat.

Thug life.

So, consequently, we don't update this blog very much.  But, 'cause I'm nice, here's some pictures from over the course of the last few weeks.

BAM:

The Cannonball is on a mission to feed ducks. . .

The pond at Eagle Park is beyond disgusting.

Eagle Park's new playground renovations.  The cushion-y rubber/padded ground is cool (it used to be sand), but they got ride of the canopy that shielded all us lazy parents from the scorching Florida sun.  Damn you very much, Eagle Park Association.

This picture would be really, really alarming if you saw three creepy guys standing behind Abby with paint-covered hands.

At Twisty Treat, down the road from our house.

Kris tried asking for a Boston Cooler, but the lady working the window had never heard of it.  Kris then tried explaining how it's made - with Vernor's and ice cream - but the lady didn't know what Vernor's was, and probably thought Kris was on drugs.

. . . so she more or less just finished the ice cream Alayna ordered and ate two bites out of.

Alayna's big enough to sit in a booster seat now, which she's pretty excited about.  I'm pretty excited about this, too, 'cause now - with two seats in my car - I don't have to switch vehicles every time I pick the kids up from school.  Cowabunga.

Attempting to teach Alayna how to ride a bike without training wheels. . .

(. . . it didn't work.)

Abby, brushing her teeth.  She's been making attempts at brushing better 'cause she has her second appointment at the end of the month. . . and we may or may not have been using the dentist's fictional stern demeanor as a way of motivating her to spend more time at the sink.

Went in to Alayna's classroom at John Young Elementary for Open House and found a bunch of these things hanging on her teacher's door.  This one's Alayna's (obviously) - I guess on the first day of school she was supposed to write down things that describe her personality.  Not sure why she didn't include words like 'loud-mouthed,' 'diva,' or 'drama-prone.'

Sassy bakers.

Posing before school.  Again.

You don't see many cars like this down here in America's Wang.

Yes, we bought our dog a Lions jersey.  Yes, we know we're 'those people.'  Shut up.

It's rare the local Fox affiliate broadcasts a Lions game, but they were today (probably 'cause we were playing a 'real' team like the Packers). . . so I actually got to watch a football game for once (first time since last Thanksgiving, actually.)  Alayna wanted to watch, too, once I told her it was Michigan's home team playing.  And to top it off, Detroit (surprisingly enough) actually beat Green Bay.

Alayna really wants a Lions shirt now. . .

It's still raining like a motherf***er down here.  And showing NO signs of letting up any time soon. . .

When you ride in Kris' beast of a van, you're guaranteed a stop at Dunkin Donuts.

So I taught Alayna how to play Chess the other day, on a whim.  She asked me if we could play Checkers - as she had learned it at Clubhouse after school awhile ago - and I told her that while we didn't have Checkers, we did have a game called Chess.  Once she saw the pieces, she was intrigued.  Over the course of an hour, we played a game and she not only memorized all the pieces' names and moves, but also picked up a little bit of strategy along the way.  She needed some help organizing her pieces to put me in Checkmate (which ultimately she never did, despite me obviously letting her win the entire time - we ended up in a stalemate), but besides that she did really well.  Abby?  Not so much.  She just wanted to play pretend with the pieces.

And here's some random guy screwing around with Garageband.  There may or may not have been a picture of him in a blog post some months back, I'm not sure.

- Brian

Raising JamMasters

I always grew up thinking that when I finally got around to having my own kids, they'd be brought up with music being an important part of their life.  Should be a no-brainer, honestly - me and my brothers were brought up around music, and all of us grew up learning how to play multiple instruments.  I've always wanted the same for my kids.

Of course, when you're in your twenties, saying things like 'I'm gonna get my kids into punk rock when they're toddlers' is 100% understandable.  When you're in your twenties, you're an idiot.  There's no way a little kid's going to prefer abstract music genres like punk over dumbed-down pop music.  Pop music is designed to appeal to and ensnare the masses; it's truly the Michael Bay of music genres, so of course it's going to attract young listeners who haven't developed sound musical tastes.

This is even more true when it comes to little girls, believe me.  Try as I may, my daughters prefer Alvin and the Chipmunks' covers of current pop songs to the Ramones or the Stones.

 It's like being stabbed in the heart with a flint knife every single day.

Still, there's a glimmer of hope that I've been clinging to over the course of the last year or so.  Alayna listens to '80s girl rock once and awhile - I made her a playlist on her iPod Touch featuring a 'greatest hits' compilation from girl groups like Cyndi Lauper, the Bangles, the Go-Gos, Heart, Pat Benatar, Joan Jett, etc.  It's definitely a step up from the bullshit female 'musicians' are pumping out these days.

In addition, Alayna's really picking up the violin lately.  Because she's going to Daisies again (think miniature Girl Scouts) every other Tuesday, we changed violin lessons from the usual every Tuesday thing to an every other Tuesday thing in order to make room for her "den meetings" (or whatever the female equivalent of that is called.)  Music lessons every two weeks seems to be a lot easier on her, and she's progressing a lot faster.  This is awesome, because now when she practices the violin it doesn't sound so much like a cat being skinned in our house, and I'm very appreciative of this.

Roommate jam session (note: no one in this picture is actually playing their instrument correctly.)

Abby, in the meantime, has started expressing interest in learning an instrument as well.  We tried piano once or twice, but, like her older sister before her, she was attentive for a minute or two before losing her attention span completely.  The keyboard's many different song tracks and instrument settings aren't the best features to engage a four-year-old.  I need to buy a real piano.

Ukin'

C (sort of)

The ukulele, however, seems to be much more her style.  Alayna can play C, F, G, A and D chords now, and is working on alternating between them.  Abby just learned C the other day (the easiest major chord you can play), and was pretty stoked about it.  I'm hoping she keeps up this enthusiasm for music, like her sister has.  Then maybe I can buy a drum set and we can start a family band, like the Partridge Family.

Rock and roll.

- Brian