Say it ain't so, Mad Dog

With the exception of some stories here about sleep, I've written overwhelmingly positively about the Mad Dog. Parents are wired this way. I am compelled to believe that my kid is dashingly handsome, physically gifted, well-mannered, way ahead on all his milestones, exceptionally sweet, and a saintly friend to all at his day care.

I concede that Mikey throws the occasional tantrum. Bystanders would be prudent to watch out for flying food. I have heard the sentence, "NO, MINE!" followed by ear-splitting screams more than once. Mad Dog is not afraid to flop on to the floor if he doesn't like the direction he is being herded in.

I'm OK with periodic tantrums. They make sense, even to me, a parent of the best kid in the world.

Imagine my surprise when I hear that is a bit of a tough-guy at day care. He's apparently served some hard time in the time-out lockup. I'm assured that what he has been doing is completely normal and common for a day-care setting where kids squabble over scarce resources like Lightning McQueen cars and such. Apparently, Mad Dog is not afraid to mix it up a bit when things start getting ugly.

Here are a few of Mad Dog's toddler fighting moves:

• The Stiff-Arm, aka The Toddler Tumbler: Encroach into Mikey's personal space or try to snatch a toy, and you just might find yourself on the receiving end of little chubby baby arm delivering a vigorous shove. This move is ineffective against high-mass beings like adults. Applied to a poorly balanced 30 pound toddler, the results are typically "Down goes Frazier."
• The Hair Pull:  Mikey's sometimes nemesis Omar is a specialist in this move, and Michael has been dabbling in it. Grab, pull, and listen to the lamentation of your enemy has he screams and cries while clutching his stricken scalp.
• The Slap:  The slap is a mainstay in any classically trained toddler fighter's repertoire. It couldn't be simpler. Crank your hand back using the elbow as a force increasing fulcrum. Apply hand liberally to adversary. Prepare for a counter-attack, because it's about to get real up in this day care.
• The Bludgeon:  A relatively innocuous toy becomes a deadly blunt force weapon in the right hands. It's all fun and games till someone takes a sippy cup upside the head.

Michael is a pretty big little guy, and he's not afraid to get in a scrape. That said, his cellmates are not exactly pushovers. They have a few tricks up their onesies:

• The Talon:  A favorite of the females, a practitioner of The Talon grabs delicate, pliable baby skin in a vicious pinching attack. The resulting bruising and crying sends a stern message that says "I am woman, feel me pinch!"
• The Take-Down aka The Deadliest Hug:  What initially appears to be a loving hug takes a sinister turn as the attacker throws the hugged victim down to the ground. The Slap or The Talon are often deployed on the now defenseless adversary.
• The Bite:  The dreaded bite attack is the most lethal weapon that a toddler can deploy. It is the nuclear option that will end almost any altercation, leaving teeth marks, bruising, and a defeated enemy in its wake. Biters are not to be trifled with.

A day care is not for sissies. The whole situation is a powder keg, rife with potential territorial disputes, tense diplomatic relations, and unstable toddlers in the throes of the terrible twos. It would be nice to hear that Michael is a sweet angel and pacifist, but that's not the world that he lives in. A toddler's got to do what a toddler's got to do to defend his way of life. We'll just keep working with him to make sure that he applies force justly and only in self defense.

Tiny Tikes, Inc.: You are on Notice

Given the malleable nature of a toddler's brain and a propensity to repeat anything said by a parent, cursing is generally not a a great parenting behavior. The 'oh $h__' daycare incident at daycare drove this point home for us in a big way.

Fine, I can cut back on the bad words. I've had some success until today. That's when the Cozy Coupe manufactured by the sadistic folks at Tiny Tikes entered my life.

If ever there were a device designed for the maximally efficient extraction of curse words from a parent, it is the Cozy Coupe. This big plastic car mesmerizes children, and it is in its 30th anniversary year. My heart shudders to think of the thousands of parents over the last thirty years who faced assembling this hellish contraption. How many tears of rage and how much misery has this one company created? When does it end?

One wouldn't think that a goofy molded plastic car would need 700 parts to piece together. One would be wrong. There are so many parts ranging from stupid little screws to incorrigible plastic bits that just wont snap together to downright evil axles that require the coordination of a brain surgeon who is also a carpenter to hammer into place. My blood pressure began to rise. Red mist entered the periphery of my vision. I think a vein on my head began to pulse ominously. Seeing Michael eagerly playing with the partially assembled chassis motivated me to press on.

Let's discuss the instructions, shall we? The Cozy Coupe is a classic toy, popular the world over. Well, isn't that just great for us! This means that our instructions feature no words, just infuriatingly vague pictograms that would be better suited as Rorshach tests. They actually wouldn't be great Rorshach tests because all the responses would probably be along the lines of "I see Tiny Tikes factory burning down, and I like it." or "I see this heap of dastardly plastic in my garage standing as a monument to follies of industrial engineering, never to be assembled". Every psychiatric diagnosis would be Tourett's syndrome or deep depression.

Then comes the process of piecing this thing together. I swear that each component part had a natural enmity for its supposed partner in assembly. Priscilla Presley and Michael Jackson made a better match than these plastic parts. As I tried to jam the front "A" pillar into place, the stream of profanity began to flow. I was like the dad in "Christmas Story." I was like that stupid oil rig in the Gulf. I just couldn't stop. When I wrenched my shoulder, accidentally bonked Mikey on the head, and then twisted my neck, I reached a crescendo.

I did what any nerd in this day and age would do: I Googled it. My first search was: "bastard tiny tikes piece of crap is impossible to assemble. About to go all Jack Nicholson in the Overlook Hotel." That is a slight exaggeration. My actual search was "cozy coupe impossible." This yielded a plethora of assenting opinions. Eventually, I found some gems that saved the day. It turns out that one must strategically apply cooking spray to the recalcitrant parts to get them actually pop into place. Son of a biscuit.

Armed with this knowledge and a can of Pam, I slogged through the rest of the assembly, cursing all the while. Shannon, I am truly sorry for my language and rage. I was provoked. And to Mikey's caretakers, I am truly sorry if he ends up repeating even 1% of what I said or if he calls you a "red plastic son of a motherless yak vomit pile of moldering cat yuck"

This man just tried to assemble a Cozy Coupe

So, to Tiny Tikes, Inc:  Shame on you for your sadistic design that pairs an irresistible toy with Sisyphusian assembly. Why do you hate parents? Why do you hate our freedom and puppies? What did we ever do to you aside from forking over 30 years of our hard-earned dollars? And to any potential parents: if you must acquire a Cozy Coupe for your progeny, do yourself a favor and request it already assembled or not at all. Don't say I didn't warn you.

The $150 Sock

This little bugger somehow worked itself into a tiny drain hole. It eventually lodged in the electric drain pump of our washing machine. This led to a very friendly appliance guy coming to kick it at our crib on Monday. That Hanes 2T toddler sock turned out to cost us about $150.

Here's the offending foot covering, still wet from its big adventure:

On Sleep

Sleep is a commodity wasted on the young. Oh, sweet sleep! I remember long bouts with you through the lazy, school-free summers of my youth. I miss that feeling of nowhere to be and nothing to do. To wallow in pure laziness until only biological needs or lunchtime hunger forced me to finally roll out of bed. I remember scheduling my college courseload so that I could sleep till 10 a.m. every morning.

As I grew older and I started working, we only saw each other on the weekends. But those Saturday and Sunday mornings were like no time had passed at all. I slept effortlessly...heavily. I would awake refreshed and ready to go.

Things are different now.What happened to us? I hardly ever see you any more. I've got bags under my eyes. There are some gray hairs. I'm awake at 7 a.m. every single day.

I'm sorry that things haven't worked out. You see, we have this baby named Mad Dog. He's spectacular in almost every way. My heart is so full of love for him that I think I'm going to need an angioplasty just to scrape it all out some day. He's smart, fun, kind, and really cute.

Something happens to him when the sun goes down. An evil demon enters his body. This demon doesn't like you, sleep, very much. You make him very angry. Mad Dog rages through the night. He coughs and shrieks. He gets sweaty and bangs his little fists on the rail of his crib. He throws every toy, pacifier, stuffed animal, or blanket out his crib. Nothing will soothe his primal rage except to join his parents in bed.

We tried the no-cry sleep solution, the plenty of cry sleep solution, and wishful thinking. We consulted the Oracle at Delphi, our pediatrician, and the people at coffee shop. Finally, after my eye bags got charged an extra $25 to fly on our vacation, it was time to get serious and rebuild our relationship.

Out came the Ferber book, aka "Cry it Out" or "Just shut the door and go to sleep, that'll teach the little brat." We actually discovered there is some serious science behind Ferberizing, and it's not just about crying it out. We helped Mad Dog to learn how to fall asleep without us in the room coddling and rocking him. That way, when he wakes up in the middle of the night, he'll know what to do.

It was miraculous. On the second day, Mikey fell asleep within 5 minutes. He stayed asleep the whole night. Oh, sleep, I was so relieved to see you again. Last night, he slept the whole night again. I think we are back in business. Here's to making up for lost time, Sleep. I'm sorry we were ever apart.

P.S. If this celebratory blog posting jinxes us, and Michael regresses, I will be jumping off a bridge. Thank you!

A Moment Frozen in Time

We were on vacation in scenic and hideous Gatlinburg, Tennessee. This hill billy mecca that serves the dual role as gateway to the Great Smoky Mountains National Park and as a leading provider of themed miniature golf courses.

It is a time-honored tradition in these parts to put a personal stamp on your vacation, to capture these fleeting moments of travel bliss. You can find all manner of souveneirs to bring home and muck up your home. There is also a tradition of artisanal craftsman creating objects of beauty and utility with their bare hands. You have your broom makers, your wood carvers, your glass-blowers, and, best of all, your air brush t-shirt artists.

You can't mistake an airbrush t-shirt. You have the gentle lines, the ephemeral colors blending together into a harmonious hazey scene. The half-cursive script says, "Heck yeah, I'm on vacation. Pass me a Buddweiser." And, unlike the mullet, it is all party up front with nothing on the back.

An airbrush t-shirt captures the essence of the wearer.Whether you want to convey your political beliefs about medical "herb" usage, extoll the virtues of your southern heritage, or announce that you do indeed enjoy hunting the most dangerous game, deer, this is much more than a simple souveneir.

The airbrush t-shirt does not come cheaply. This is a commissioned piece of artwork from a trained expert. Hold on to your wallet because buying the plain shirt and compensating the artist for his supplies and work can exceed $25. You obviously wouldnt' want every item in your wardrobe to be an airbrush t-shirt, mainly due to the cost, but splurging every once in a while is a good idea.

That brings us back to our vacation. We were happy to commission little Mikey (known to some as Mad Dog) his very first precious, custom-made airbrush t-shirt. The shirt is spectacular, and you don't see too many like it around these parts. Most Austinites are content with their mass-produced Chinese factory apparrel. Pffft. Now, if I can just figure out how to wash the darn thing.

Everything I Need to Know I Learned from AFV

America's Funniest Videos (AFV) one of the funniest programs on television. Most people don't appreciate the nuanced layers of humors here. I will admit the Bob Saget years were an abomination, but the show now rocks. I've seen almost every episode and every clip multiple times. I've learned valuable lessons about the fragility of life, the capriciousness of fate, and the depths of stupidity. Here area  few of them:

1. Never menace a bird with pseudo-Kung Fu moves. You will end up with an angry fowl chasing you until you are out of frame.

2. Beware of monkeys. It's all fun and games until someone gets his eyeglasses stolen or shirt all stretched out by a grabbing little paw.

3. Conventional wisdom says that walking under a ladder is bad luck. Phooey, I say. Climbing a ladder seems to be a very unfortunate undertaking. From what I can gather, you want to be the guy with the video camera.

4. If you are over thirty years old and over 225 pounds, you should never attempt to ride a child's bicycle, skateboard, or pogo stick. Recapturing lost youth and having fun are good things, but so are maintaining the structural integrity of one's body and not making medical insurance claims.

5. If you are a woman of a certain age who might be a few pounds from ideal:  please do not try to jump on a trampoline, swing on a rope swing, or jump across a narrow stream.

6. To any fathers out there. Wear a cup at all times while playing catch or wiffle ball with the kids.

7. Never, ever hold an infant up above your face. If you must, please make sure that your mouth is closed, because the spitup is coming.

8. If you are water skiing, pausing to smile and wave at the camera is a one-way ticket to Davey Jones' Locker. Just focus on keeping your balance.

9. Children will destroy everything that you love and hold dear. Those fine new kitchen cabinets? Food coloring hand prints. Matching furniture set? painted over.

10. If a wild animal gets into your home. Do not remain calm. Grab a video camera and get lots of shots of the people screaming maniacally. This baby could win you $10,000

Fear and Loathing in the Hill Country

"There she blows!-there she blows! A hump like a snow-hill! It is Moby Dick!"
— Herman Melville (Moby Dick)


A two hour journey through rolling hills west of Austin had brought us to this moment. Looming ahead, shockingly bare and pink like a giant granite bosom, was Enchanted Rock.


After two hours packed into family hauler, our crew (Shannon, Mikey, friend Maura, and her kiddos) was definitely ready to enjoy the stunning spring day by hiking and goofing off at "The Rock." Mikey was particularly ready to go, and only a steady stream of Goldfish and pretzels kept the demon baby of doom from emerging.


Then we got our first sign that this might be an ill-fated spring break day trip. It was literally a sign announcing that the park was closed for two hours. What the velcro is this?


"And the sign said anybody caught trespassing would be shot on sight
So I jumped on the fence and yelled at the house, Hey! what gives you the right
To put up a fence to keep me out or to keep mother nature in
If God was here, he'd tell you to your face, man you're some kinda sinner"


-"Signs" by Five Man Electrical Band


I'm gonna go all Earth Father Hippy Lebowski here and say that there's something really wrong when you journey hours to commune with nature at a gigantic rock, and "The Man" turns you away at the gate because of arbitrary capacity rules.

We were not happy. The situation got even worse when we returned two hours later, only to be turned away yet again. DisEnchanted Rock has earned a spot on my lifetime ban list (the first geological formation to earn this honor), and I am in favor of chopping it up to make beautiful and easy to maintain countertops.

So, what do you do when life gives you lemons? That's right, you put them aside and go looking for some good fruit. Thus began our hopefully meandering Hill Country Consolation Prize Trip of Shame. We worked our way up through Llano and visited the bustling metropolises of Burnet and Liberty Hill.

 In the end, we had a great time together. We saw ancient cabins, raging rapids, picturesque bridges, scenic lake vistas, and a family of wild bald eagles. A day of disappointment and rage against a bathysphere formation transformed into a chilled out journey of friendship and mini-destinations.

Here are some pictures of the adventure:

We are posing with super friendly bird watchers at the bald eagle nest site near Burnet, TX

This was a pretty cool bridge at Llano

Mikey and I are enjoying an extremely safe photo location

My Unambitious Bucket List

Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,
Old Time is still a-flying!
--excerpt from Robert Herrick's 17th century poem

I spend many hours plunked in front of my computer in lovely cubicle #RR3-G246. I fight with spreadsheets, get some neck pain, and maybe drink a cup of coffee or two. When I get home, I chase the Mad Dog around, do some cleaning, and cook dinner. After all this, I find it all too easy to be a lazy Jabba the Hut, sunken into the couch watching episodes of Lost or The Office.

The problem with this state of affairs is that life is short, and there's cool stuff out there that needs to be experienced. I constantly feel the tension between what is possible in my life, and what I'm actually out there living and accomplishing. How much potential am I wasting sitting on my ass? One of the cruelest cuts of all in growing older is the steady dimunation of one's potential and the inexorable cementing of who you have become. I'll never be a doctor, an astronaut, or President, and that's ok.

Allow me now to turn the wheel of the USS Emo and motor into brighter waters. Life is short. Everyone has wasted some potential and accumulated some regrets. But, it ain't over till it's over. Here we go again with the Dime Store Philosophy. Remember that Jack Nicholson movie about terminally ill old guys doing  cool stuff on their bucket list? It's actually not a bad idea!

I would like to tone down the television watching and attack my own version of the bucket list. I'm intentionally making mine pretty easy because I don't need another unachieved goal at this time, thank you very much. If I knock these out, then I'll move up to Bucket List 301: Intermediate Life Experiences (pre Req: Bucket List 101 - Elementary Adventures).

Without further ado, here they be:

1. Visit the observation deck of the University of Texas Tower. This thing was closed during my undergrad years, as a result of the bad mojo of the Tower shootings and a string of suicides. It's now open for business, and I've never been. Bucket Difficulty: 1.5 out of 10.

2. Visit the Hill Country Wineries: I've wanted to do this forever, but I've been too busy eating bon bons and wondering if the Lost smoke monster just might be a good guy. 

3. Go visit my friend Dan in California

4. Take Mikey to his first UT football game.

5. Write a book of some kind. Basically, I need to have a bunch of words on paper, and that paper should be bound in some fashion. I'll probably shoot for something as incredibly simple as a child's book for my boy. Then, I'll try something one step up from there: a sci-fi short story.

6. Visit my friends and coworkers in Slovakia, preferably on my employer's dime.

7. Become reasonably proficient in a foreign language. Spanish would be a good start. This one's been bothering me for a long time, but it ain't easy.

8. Have a daughter who will melt my heart and bring home potential suitors for me to menace.

9. Take my whole immediate family to Europe and reenact the Griswold European vacation. I kid, but a romp through Italy for some coffee, wine, pizza, and history would be fantastic.

10. Trek down to Lockhart and hit up the world famous barbeque joints. I life a short road trip away from these Food Network fixtures, and yet I've never been. Tsk. Tsk.

That's all I've got for now. Any readers have a bucket list?