The Great Christmas Record Odyssey, Ep. XLVIII

Seasons Greetings, y'all.  Let's get some jams goin' here. . .

Album Title:  I Love Christmas

Album Artist:  Various Artists

Okay, you know what, I'm just gonna go ahead and say it:  this music is so f***ing cartoon-y it ought to have some kind of label across the front cover that says "Recorded in Glorious Technicolor."

God help me.

I don't think very many 'artists' on this album had waded into the waters of puberty at the date of recording (they're probably all in their 50s now.)  This is a Lord of the Flies Christmas - children's choirs, children soloists, and only a handful of post-pubescent singers (Skeeter Davis, Roy Rogers, Florence Henderson, Spike Jones doing that Dr. Demento's Christmas favorite, 'All I Want for Christmas is My Two Front Teeth,' etc.) bother making an appearance.

This really isn't the sort of record one puts on while trying to seduce a sweater-wearing, egg nog-sipping, young lady in front of some crackling yule logs.  This is the sort of record you intentionally put on to calm down a preggosaurus rex while she's in the deep throws of a 'get this f***ing thing out of me already' meltdown.  'Cause won't having kids someday be nice?? Or maybe when you're trying to calm down a roost-full of candy cane-fueled toddlers tearing around your living room.

Either way.

So is offering downright terrible?  No, no it's not.  This is a children's album, so you know what you're getting, more or less.  Not a lot of surprises, here.  The adult singers are delivering in the most monotone, calm voices they can muster ('cause, you never know, it could be nap time), and the children's choirs are singing with as much cherubic charm they can muster.  If you want Children's Christmas music, you might be okay with this.

Florence Henderson and Roy Rogers are kinda creepy, but. . . whatever.  I guess they're not nearly as creepy as the sinister-looking little girl on the album cover, employing a vice grip on a dead koala.

I love Christmas.

VERDICT:  5/10 - Meh (It's a children's Christmas album.  While not necessarily horrible, I have far better ones in my collection.)

- SHELVED -

Annoying Crap My Kids Do

Hey, how's everybody doing?

We're tired.

Yours truly and the artist-formerly-known-as-Preggosaurus get no sleep these days. Our newest addition is, by all accounts, nocturnal, and prefers to hang out at 2am instead of 2pm. This makes operating at full capacity during the daylight hours next to impossible, and that's when we have to be putting forth our 'A' game in order to handle the Cannonball's shenanigans.

Over the course of the last couple of weeks, since Kris pissed out our second child, Alayna's been one, giant hurricane of defiance and sass. Not directed to me, so much, but very much so to her Mom. I'm not sure if this is because Kris constantly has a life form attached to her breast or not. Who knows.

She openly defies orders, ignores warnings, and 'talks' back so frequently that 'time-outs' are becoming an almost hourly occurrence. Acting out in anger has become a problem, too. For example, Kris' cell phone was busted. We're not about to point fingers at who did it or anything, but it definitely wasn't Kris or myself. And I highly doubt Abby was able to destroy it, as she can't lift anything weighing more than a cotton ball. But we're not pointing fingers, here. Anyway, since niether Kris nor myself have gotten that publication deal for our Parenting 101: A Guide for Idiots Who Shouldn't Make Babies in the First Place book we've been compiling* yet, we're tackling toddler-wrangling on a day-to-day basis and awaiting that blessed day when Alayna and Abby are both out of the house and off to college.

September of 2028, baby. Start the countdown.

Now, if our days with Raffi taught us anything, its that there lies vast potential in the power of Television. Alayna has becomed obsessed with Yo Gabba Gabba, which is cat nip for two year olds. She loves it, and the DVDs we have of it are on constant rotation in the DVD player. Sure, I'd rather watch Yo Gabba Gabba than, say, Barney or the Unmentionable Sesame Street Character That Sabotaged Grover's Career, but its still a strain on one's sanity when one has to watch it on a daily basis.

Alas, for the time being, watching an episode of hip-hoppin' robots at 6am is way better than dealing with a toddler freak out at 6am.

Say what you will. Dad treasures his sanity.

- Brian

* = We're not writing this. That's a joke. We'd be the last people who should be writing a book like this.

The Haul

Ahoy, treasure seekers!

The Houghs once again set sail this morning for the semi-annual Hunter's Creek Community Garage Sale. If you'll remember, readers, we're big fans of plunder in this family, and, like last year, today we walked away with our fair share of booty.

(I'm on a pirate kick today, if you couldn't tell).

So, what's the big whoop, then? What'd we score this time around? Well, we dropped approximately $33, folks, and for that amount, we scooped up a treasure trove worth of awesomeness.

Observe:

1. Paperback bookcase - $5. Not one of those 'this is sweet!' purchases, but, for five bucks, it got two boxes of books from the move off our utility room floor. Sure, we've still got four boxes piled up and pissing off Preggosaurus whenever she needs to retrieve a cleaning polearm, but hey... little victories.

2. Toy Lawnmower - $3. Little Tikes convinces kids that this piece of machinery will really cut grass, but upon trying it out personally, I have determined that it does not.

3. General Electric Vintage Radio Alarm Clock - $3. Large, blue L.E.D. display. Silver, big-ass buttons. Premium (imitation) teak paneling. The Man-Room is now equipped with the ability to tell time... vintagely. Think I'm freaking out too much over a clock radio? Here, smurf this out. Evidently I'm not the only one who thinks this old radio is cool. There. In your face.

4. Two Hardcover Books - $1. Baby Laughs by Jenny McCarthy and Best Little Stories from the American Revolution by C. Brian Kelly. (Guess which one's is Kristina's and which one is mine.)

5. Antique Wooden/Iron Chest from Mexico - $3. Another Man-Room purchase, ideal for storing my smoking pipes, tobacco, and related hoo-hah. One of my favorite purchases from today's adventures.

6. Two Storage Bins - $2. Okay, so this was one of Kristina's purchases, 'cause apparently 'we needed a few around the house!' I know what you're thinking, trust me. Hooray. Storage bins.

7. Old World Globe Pencil Holder - $0.50. For the Man-Room writing area. C'mon!

8. Three Ice Cube Trays - $0.30. Meh...

9. Framed and Autographed Pencil/Lithograph of a 18th Century War Frigate - $5. There were three of these beauties, each going for $5. If I were single, I would've purchased all three and hung them in every, possible area of blank, wall space. Being married as I am, I realized I only had room for the one, which was - surprise, surprise - in my Man-Room. Still, for being framed, numbered, and autographed by the artist himself - and being a warship - I kinda wish I would've bought all three and put the other two in storage. Oh well...

10. Original 16 Bit Sega Genesis Gaming System: Console, Standard Controller, Fighter Stick SG-6 Advanced Controller, and 24 Games with original Players/Operating Guides - $10. This was, hands down, the day's grandest find. Found at our Church's mass garage sale, this bundle of glory was stuffed into a garbage bag underneath a back table filled with old, dusty appliances. Attracted to junk as I am, I was quickly drawn to the massive pile of cords, broken buttons, and faded gadgetry. While digging around this area (the same in which I found the General Electric Clock Radio, by the way), my foot accidentally kicked the garbage bag on the floor. Intrigued by the clatter sound that reminded me of video game cartridges, I bent down, opened the bag, and promptly soiled myself. I quickly asked a nearby volunteer worker how much she wanted for the whole bundle, as it was un-priced. She didn't know anything about it, and sheepishly asked if $10 was asking too much.

I informed her that the price was fair, purchased my plunder, and left before someone could correct the mistake.

Kris wasn't enthusiastic about the purchase, initially (her argument being I have too many vintage video gaming systems as it is), but I think she's warmed up to it a little. I've cleaned up the console and games with some rubbing alcohol and plenty of affection and, to my everlasting joy, every, last game for the system still works.

So there you have it. Treasure found, glory attained, and all for a meager $33.

Slainte,

Cap'n "Mad Dog" McHough

'The Clock Ticketh,' or 'Wuddabout Dad?'

My kid's Due Date is starting to seem like some sort of fanciful mirage. And its starting to seriously piss me off.

The ol' day-to-day in La Casa de Hougho seems to be grinding down to a point where, if it were my car, I'd take it in to get something fixed muy pronto-like. Kris is getting worn out earlier and more frequently (she's about 8 months along now, so that shouldn't come to too much of a surprise, I guess), and that means that this guy's getting more stressed out because he's picking up more of the slack due to her inability to take care of as much around the house.

Before I have every, last female across cyberspace rise up to smite me, allow me to continue.

Yes, I totally realize pregnancies are difficult things for women to endure, and I'm not discounting that in the slightest. Nobody's stupid, here - we all know she's got it way worse off than I do. That's a no-brainer, folks. All I'm saying is that this isn't necessarily a stroll through the ol' park for yours truly, either. Dad's suffer through pregnancies - hate to break it to you, ladies, but its true - and I think its high time that women learn to appreciate this. With grad school, work, my writing program, and a toddler at home, I have next to zero decompress time for myself, with day after day of minimal decompress time adding up continuously over a prolonged increment of time, it begins to take a toll on one's stress level and sanity.

My gray hairs have multiplied this year ten-fold - I'm not even kidding! - and I attribute this more to the stressful act of balancing work, school, writing, and parenthood more than I do the fact that I'm currently racing down the final stretch of my 20's and approaching the dreaded 30.

F*** 30.

- Brian

House

Everybody loves a cantankerous, self-absorbed blowhard, but we're not going to divulge into that show at present (we don't really watch that show - I think the guy's a prick). Nay, readers, we're writing to update cyberspace on the epic Hough House Mega-Quest.



We got one.



Once again, we're not buying - at this point in time, both Preggosaurus and myself are not inclined to stick it out in Florida for a long duration of time, and we definitely do not want to get stuck with a chunk or real estate we can't get rid of. Therefore, once again, we're going the rental route and, this time around, getting a house.

We found a place that's actually about three blocks away from our current residency, and therefore we don't have to change churches, barbers, or gamestops. Its a 3 Bed/2 Bath single-family unit in a great neighborhood that has a solid reputation for being quiet and safe (which was a huge selling point for us).

The place itself was actually over our price range, but we managed to negotiate the sale due to our willingness to paint a few rooms and fix the backyard fence (which needs to be reset in a few spots). The kitchen cupboards need to be re-varnished, and the stove's questionable, but for $300 less a month in rent, those are handyman expenses we're willing to suffer.

This recent house venture also means we're going to have to use some tax money (of which we're netting considerably more than usual, thank God) on 'big person' expenses, such as the purchasing of a lawnmower, weed-wacker, and other such yard tools. I'm looking forward to this, as I learned a lot in my summer working in the Lowe's Garden Center, and haven't been able to employ them in my own backyward (due to my lack of one). This summer should be a lot of fun.

So there you have it - we got ourselves a modest, little fix-er-up-er (I don't know how to spell that), and, after we dump a few buckets of paint into the sum'bitch, it should be a pretty sweet set-up.


...Now all we have to do is birth that second kid out and we'll be all set.


Slainte,

- Brian

Christmas, All Systems Go

The Hough family has officially endorsed the Christmas season. Yulefully.

Although the pairing of Clark Griswald and Scrooge McDuck might seem a bit odd, more or less that's the holiday dynamic between Preggosaurus and myself: I tend to rather enjoy Christmas lights year-round, and therefore see no problem with stringing them up the weekend before Thanksgiving in order to relish in festiveness throughout my week-off of work. Kris, on the other hand, foams at the mouth when she sees anything related to Christmas pop up in front of her before Thanksgiving (i.e. the day the Lions always lose).

As we've done in recent years, the Griswald and McDuck have come to a compromise in regards to holiday decorating: I get to string up Christmas lights the weekend before Thanksgiving, but the actual Christmas Tree, as well as anything that has Santa's face on it, may only be put up the day after Thanksgiving (Black Friday, as I guess we're calling it now).

It might seem a bit unnecessary, but that's what keeps our marriage chugging along.

Anyway, so this year we ran into a bit of a dilemma. I have always, always, always hated our Christmas Tree - we've had it since we first got married and were throwing together Christmas decorations, and therefore what we've been using for the last three years is a $20 Family Dollar tree that could pass off as Charlie Brown's Christmas Tree's mentally disabled step-brother.

Taking this into consideration, this year I opted to upgrade to a $70 pre-lit tree that was a foot taller and much more filled out - still not the $250 job I'd like to own someday, but I can't really bring myself to spending that much money on something I throw up for a month.

Kris wasn't gung-ho with this purchase, but she relented eventually, and now our Charlie Brown-esque auxiliary tree is positioned back in my man-room, if only to keep the Hermit Crabs company during the holiday season.

Merry Commercialism,

- Brian

In the Rear/Alayna's Boyfriend

...does this title scare you? it should - nothing about it sounds pleasant at all.

two completely, unrelated events, though. the other day, as kris was heading home from work, some kid decided to rear end her while - get this - she was stopped at a school crosswalk. that's right. she was completely stopped at a school crosswalk, being pregnant and watching students cross the street, when a 20 year old moron flew up in a small sedan and rear-ended her super van. fortunately, both preggosaurus and the yet-to-be-identified baby are fine, and the damage to our car was minimal (just a slight crack in the bumper).

now, the other guy's car... that was totaled. that's what he gets for driving into the back of a battle wagon.

so we recently received news that some kid in the primrose toddler room is putting the moves on our daughter. she's got herself a suitor. evidently, this kid leaned and planted one on alayna, who then decided to sit next to him and play with his hair throughout their 'circle time.' i haven't decided on whether or not i need to send the kid off to a convent yet, but the little boy's dad did photoshop up this collage of the two lovebirds in romantic bliss.

Speaking of bliss, we also recently took the kid to chuck e. cheese's. i'm an old-school fan of showbiz pizza place, which was brutally taken over in some kind of mascot-ran pizza/entertainment business deal. i'm assuming the rockafire explosion was either kicked to the streets or else subsequently put to death, because they were nowhere to be found. the only animatronic character to be had was the ridiculously stupid mouse, mr. cheese, dressed up like a early '90s rollerblader (awesome!!).

anyway, the kid loved the place. there wasn't a ball pit, but they did have a play area specifically for toddlers, and she couldn't enough of the place. here are some pics for your viewing pleasure.

word to your moms,

- brian

Reproducin', Part I: The Cannonball

what's up, fan club...

as most of you guys know, preggosaurus went into labor on monday and shot out a little baby girl, which, after a few hours of deliberation and polling from the public, we named alayna renee (who we often refer to as 'cannonball,' for reasons disclosed below.)

our tale begins on saturday, the 14th of june... allow me to backtrack for a sec, here...

kris had just finished swimming in the pool and was home showering off when she thought her water had broke. the folks at the hospital figured it was best to err on the side of caution and had us drive from our place in hunter's creek to the winter park memorial hospital (all the way across friggin' orlando). after four hours of running tests and sitting around a hospital labor room, bored of our wits, the doctors discharge kris and tell her that, in fact, her water had not broke. more than likely, they said, preggosaurus had peed herself.

the next day, absolutely nothing at all happened. it was a really boring day, and kris was so exhausted she couldn't really do much. this all changed, however, at about 2 am, early monday morning, when she started having severe contractions. they started off being an hour apart, then began at half-hour intervals, then fifteens minutes apart, and then finally at ten minute intervals. not wanting to drive all the way across town for yet another false alarm, i told her to call the doctor's office when they opened at 9am and ask if they wanted her to go to the hospital again. in the meantime, i had to drive down to kissimmee for that stupid, boring ESOL strategy class (the one i mentioned before in my last posting), and, as you all remember, i could only miss one day of class before they'd drop me like a sack of wet laundry.

i was not about to use up my own absence on yet another false alarm. so i went to class.

after about 45 minutes of sheer, mind-wrenching boredom (that class was horrible, horrible business), i received the phone call from kris stating that the doctors wanted her back at the hospital immediately. i drove back to the house, picked her up, and we went back, yet again, to the hospital in winter park.

this time, however, they wanted her to stay. preggosaurus was dilated to 4, and she was thinning out like nobody's business.

while kris' cervix was spreading apart like the red sea, i was frantically calling my HR department for the school district and trying to see if i could retake that ESOL class in the fall. i was convinced that i wasn't going to be able to make it back the next day at 8am and continue to attend class regularly for the next two weeks, thereby completing my teacher's certification requirement and, consequently, keeping my job. by the time kris was dilated to 8, i had been told that i could take that boring ESOL class in the fall. trumpets sounded from the heavens.

these trumpets, however, turned out to be the thundering approach of a terrible lightning storm that would kick off around the time of the baby's birth, and which would ultimately screw up my mass picture texting from the hospital (for those of you who received the same picture text message three or four times that afternoon, and for those of you who didn't receive anything at all, this is why).

now, kris has bore witness firsthand to the painful throngs of labor before, and she wasn't having any of it. natural vaginal childbirth was not something she was down with. therefore, she had an epidural done as soon as possible to nullify the pain of the contractions, which, for those of you previously unaware of this practice, is when they drive a railroad spike into your back and run a feeding tube of numbing goof juice into your spine. with this done, kris was oblivious to just about everything afterwards.

by noon, the nurses brought in this skinny, piece of blue plastic the size of a shortsword and rammed it up kris' crotch to break her water. for nearly three hours afterwards, absolutely nothing at all happened. nothing. it was boring as hell, and the only thing on the TV in the room was a marathon of home improvement. i wanted to kill myself. you always hear about the emotional and chaotic times of people in the delivery room, but it wasn't like that at all for us. occassionally, kris would ask me to check the monitor thingy and see if she was having a contraction or not. she'd feel a little bit of pressure, but that was about it. so yeah... really boring for a good three hours or so there.

...then the nurse came in and realized kris was dilated to 10, her uterus was vanquished, and the baby's head was in view. holy crap, its time to call the doctor.

the delivery gear was brough in and the doctor told kris to start pushing. she does this, no joke, about three or four times, before the baby's head comes out and the kid cannonballs its way into freedom. that was it. that was the delivery process: four or five minutes of painless pushing. and then we had a screaming, bloody baby on our hands.

in closing, i highly recommend all women out there reading this considering reproducing any time soon to receive a railroad spike of goof juice in the back. totally worth it. just make sure you bring crap along with you to the pass the time, just in case you're stuck in a room with nothing on but home improvement.

- brian

Preggosaurus Rex

hey players.

so... about this whole pregnancy thing. you should know, right off the bat, that we were not looking at having kids any time soon when this all went down. nevertheless, it happened. i'll spare you the details, but the end result was the transformation of kristina the wife into preggosaurus rex.

concerning babies: i live with a girl already, so having a second one around the house didn't sound like all that much fun. twice the clucking, half the bathroom space. not so awesome. besides, i've been looking forward to having an excuse to get back into playing with legos for a long, long time now. girls can't really get that much into the cool toys you can buy boys, unless you raise 'em as tomboys (which is a hair away from turning them lesbo, so you have to be careful there if you want grandkids down the road). therefore, obviously, yours truly was hoping for a boy. someone to pass the name 'hough' down - and not toss it aside for the first damn guy that throws a diamond in her face. that doesn't seem too ridiculous of a preference, either; in my opinion, its better to have the boy first before you start popping out girls - that way he can rough up his little sister's boyfriends when need be.

unfortunately, God and whatever other forces that be didn't seem to taken my preference into consideration when they implanted kristina with a girl. that's right, a girl. so now i'm forced with the dilemma of having to justify giving her legos every year for Christmas.

back to the pregnancy. we found out kris was knocked up sometime in the middle of october, and most doctors seem to think the date of conception (i.e. the date of 'getting it on') was most likely the same weekend as our 1 year wedding anniversary (happy anniversary!). for those of you who suck at mathematics as bad as i do, that puts the little squirt cannonballing out of preggosaurus sometime around june 22nd. this, as many of you know, is little under 30 days away. less than a month. now, we're pretty much set with a lot of what we need at this point - we've got the crib, we've got her nursery set up, we've got a lot of clothes, i'm got my uber-male diaper bag, etc. - pretty much all we need at this point are the little things and toys and stuff like that. not too bad.

...oh yeah, and a name. we still don't have a name yet at this point.

now, we've gotten a lot of suggestions from people out there (some good, most bad), and have come close to settling on given names a number of times, but nothing has stuck out concretely. i'm hoping to at least head into the hospital with a short list of narrowed-down names - that's my immediate goal, and i think its possible. i don't know.... if it gets to the point where i'm holding the kid at the hospital and we still can't figure out a damn name for it, i'm going to name it 'chuck' and just say 'screw it.'

so there you have it, readers - that's been the quick synopsis of the pregnancy. the way i see it, the pregnancy horror stories you hear about - the perils of preggosauruses and the stress of awaiting the arrival of a new baby, etc. - are most likely penned by cowards. seriously. folks, if you live with a harpy, she's probably going to be a harpy when she's pregnant. stop acting so shocked and appalled. so far *knock on wood* kris has handled this whole pregnancy thing extremely well. no pickles and ice cream on this end... though kris isn't afraid to eat a big bag of twizzlers in one sitting.

by the way, you guys wanna know how cool it is living with a pregnant woman? check this out:

...yeah. its that cool.

keep it real.

- brian

Here We Go Again...

well kids, we're going to try this again, here.

*begin fanfare*

hi. how you doin'? we're the houghs. you may have heard of us. today we're relaunching an online site to keep people back home and spread out around the world updated with current events, pictures, and the like. much like last time, except this time way better. seriously. we promise this time.

here's a quick prologue for ya:

a couple months after getting hitched in october 2006, we moved from clare, MI. to orlando, FL. with a herculean moving truck, a loud parrot, and no job prospects in sight. this didn't seem to matter, though, as michigan was ranked 50th in the nation for its job market and economy (i mean, being unemployed in one state is just as good as being unemployed in another, right?). of course it is. besides, florida has palm trees and theme parks. what's michigan have... snow and construction? with this in mind, we slung on our hobo packs and sallied forth.

we got a cheap - but safe - place in southeast orlando for that first year. not the nicest place, but we weren't being shot at either, so we couldn't complain too much at the time. taking up multiple part-time jobs in order to meet the many ends, we whored out resumes and cover letters and desperately sought out professional careers to pay off our gargantuan student loans. after a few months, kristina took a job with kindercare as an infant teacher, and brian was hired as a 7th grade social studies teacher at a public intermediate school. and so, after much trial and tribulation, the cross-country carpetbagging and the months of fruitless searching paid off. *more fanfare* the houghs were established.

yes, all things were going well for brian and kristina when suddenly, out of nowhere, came the impending rumble of foreboding peril...

yes, friends, kristina was knocked up. three pregnancy tests in rapid-fire succession sure didn't lie... its nigh on 9 months later and kristina - or, as she's commonly referred to now, "preggosaurus rex" - is still, indeed, very pregnant (we'll get to that ol' tale later, though).

anyway, in april of 2008 we moved into a bigger place, closer to kissimmee, in order to make room for the baby without having to sacrifice the man-den (the room that houses brian's many swords, records, video games, and our parrot, fezzig). kristina switched to a different kindercare center, serving the white-collar big-shots at disney in celebration (that's a town), in order to avoid paying an arm and a leg in tolls and gas to commute to her old center. brian's first year of teaching in florida public schools went so well that he was asked to renew his contract with the school, despite state budget cuts and other economic woes of the like (we'll get to that whole fiasco later, too). and fezzig, who is beginning to sense that something's amiss in the hough household, is now entering sexual maturity. awesome.

...and so there you are. there's the prologue. you're welcome. now that everybody's up to speed with the grand hough back story, we'll be sure to keep you all informed from now on with updates, pictures, antidotes, etc. from our end (seriously).

stay outta trouble...

- the houghs