Hold On Daddy's Coming!

Stories, rants and reflections by a clueless father of three

Archive for the tag “fatherhood”

16 Apr 2019
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Family Trip to Thailand? Bring Patience, An Open Mind, and So Much Deodorant

Traveling Asia with kids isn’t for the feint of heart.  But man is it worth it… 

Last week, we headed to Thailand with our friends (the Tislands) for Spring Break.  Traveling with friends, we’ve learned, is important because 24 hours of non-stop family time without the comforts of home can be a bit much.  I suppose we figured this out in South Korea, where Jackie and I fought for hours one night because I got her the “wrong” sandwich.  In my defense, how could I have known she actually wanted a meatball sub with absolutely nothing on it?  Anyway, now we travel with friends.

As for the itinerary, here’s the good: we started in Guam heading to Bangkok, then Chiang Mai, and then back to Guam.  Lots of adventure.  Here’s the bad part… it was all through the Manilla Airport, which is a dirty, wifi-lacking maze that might just be hell on earth.  And here’s where it get’s downright ugly: we flew Philippine Airlines – a company operated by madmen.  The Manilla Airport/Philippine Airlines combo is devastating.  It’s kind of like a sandwich your hungry wife didn’t order, and 7 days of non-stop family time.  

Regardless, here goes a recap of one of our most epic family vacations.  

Day One: Travel Horrors

Everything was fine til Philippine Airlines and the Manilla Airport did their worst.  Our flight to Manilla arrived late, we missed our connection, and got rewarded with more time at the Manilla Airport.  Yelling was involved.  This caused us to get into Bangkok late, which put us in rush hour en route to our hotel.  Finally, we got to the hotel where the kids had their own room, and Jackie and I had ours.  Perfect recipe for lots of bow-chicka-wow-wow…  

Just kidding.  We were super tired.  And the kids were next door to us – often wrestling in the hallway and calling every five minutes pretending to need housekeeping.  It was a perfect recipe for phone calls from angry neighbors.    

Day Two: Floating Market…Horrors

Day Two we went to the “Floating Market.”  Travel websites and Thailand experts give this experience glowing reviews.  I was excited about this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.  Until I realized…

The Floating Market involves taking a boat ride through a series of remarkably similar tourist shops along the water with a high-pressure sales pitch at every stop… all at a nifty 102 degrees.  It’s the worst.  More on this in a bit.

The ride to and from isn’t easy, as the Floating Markets are two hours from Bangkok.  Picture endless traffic while sitting alongside six PS4-deprived children.  For them, talk of farts and “Opposite Day” make the trip bearable.   For example, “you’re cool…but it’s Opposite Day.”  Classic burn.  

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We finally get to the Markets and I get the true dagger.  The boat ride to go shopping for overpriced tourist items will cost our family of five $200 out the gate.   Look, I’ve long learned that the key to any successful vacation is to not be a cheap bastard.  But for the remainder of the day, all I could think about was this $200.  

So. Here’s what my wife saw:

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Aaaand here’s what I saw: 

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It wasn’t all bad.  We got smoothies.  For what it’s worth, Jackie said she “really liked it.”  Frankly, she would have liked it a lot more had I not gone.  But aside from the heat and the price and the overall misery of the experience it was totally great. The 2.5 hour ride back to Bangkok was also great.  But remember, it’s Opposite Day. 

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Day Three: Grand Palace

On Day Three, we went to the Grand Palace.  Immediately prior to launch, I discover I won’t be allowed to wear shorts.  That’s ok because it’s only a million degrees outside.  We take a pretty sweet boat ride to the palace.  The kids enjoyed endless sodas and the adults began a day of endless perspiration.  

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We get to the entrance of the palace and things start to get crazy.  Our guide informs us it’s temporarily closed because apparently the Princess is praying.  Umm, ok.  It’s possible this one of Bangkok’s infamous scams, but nobody is walking into this Palace.  So if thats true it’s a pretty elaborate scam.  My guess is Thailand is like every other monarchy in the world: the Princess gets what the Princess wants.  

With time to kill, we buy overpriced ice cream and wait.  But soon the kids need to potty and there are no bathrooms in sight.  I walk four blocks with the boys to discover that the only bathroom available to us costs money to use, and I have none.  Also… wait, what?  You have to pay to use the toilet around here???  This ruthless display of capitalism almost makes Bangkok more American than America.    All that’s missing is a credit card machine.   

Back to the palace, where we eventually got in.  It was beautiful.  There was a temple that was cool as well.  Our tour guide shared historic tales of battles between good and evil.   Unfortunately I won’t remember any of this, because I’m too busy anticipating my imminent death.  Have I mentioned it was hot?  

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Collectively, our back sweat could fill a kiddie pool.  I’m serious about this.

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That night we hit Chinatown.  We take a “Tuk Tuk,” which is essentially a moped with seats rigged onto the back.  “Tuk Tuk” is super fun to say, and they’re crazy cheap.  A ride for the whole family costs us a few dollars.  I know I’m supposed to be over this, but this ride is about $197 cheaper than our boat ride through the Floating Market.  I mean, I’m just saying…

We walk around eating street food and being tourists.  Jackie gets a real massage while the kids and I let fish eat the skin off our feet.  Knowing how long its been since our kids properly cleaned their feet I have concerns about the future of these poor fish.  Also, they tickle.  

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Day Four: Head to Chiang Mai 

Day Four we head to Chiang Mai, where we will be living in a Villa for the remainder of this trip.  Seven bedrooms, a pool, and toilets with those sprayers that you’d use on the dishes… only it’s for your junk.  This place is incredible.  

We swam a lot that day.  And drank beer.  It was legit vacation.  

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Day Five: Elephants, Massages and Deadly Snakes

On Day Five, Jackie and the kids went to play with elephants.  I didn’t go because I’m lame and got a massage instead.  The baby elephants were super cute.  The masseuse who dug into my skin and had me grimacing in pain was not cute.  I’m on a roll with poor decisions this week. 

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After we regrouped at the villa we headed to the “Snake Show,” and it did NOT disappoint.  For a few dollars, we got to see hilarious Thai dudes dancing around King Cobras…all while “Moves Like Jagger” played in the background.  Watching these guys evade venomous bites from angry Cobras leads me to conclude they are far more impressive than Jagger.  I mean, for goodness sake, their dance moves are what prevent them from literally dying.  

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Fully satisfied by the Snake Show, we went to dinner and ate insane amounts of Thai food.  Nobody spoke English, but Coldplay was blaring on the speakers.  It made no sense, but everywhere we go we seem to hear the whitest music imaginable.  Later that week, I’d go to a coffee shop where the second I walked in it went from Yoga music to Phil Collins.  This Country just gets me.

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Day Six: ATVs and a Night “Safari” 

Since we were in Thailand you’d think the kids would have no use for Youtube.  Wrong.  Each morning began with “can I play on my Kindle?”  The boys like videos with Fortnight commentary which, for better or worse, has provided them a wealth of newly discovered gaming vernacular.  For instance, when I Dab – a move I only recently mastered – I’m reminded that the move was popular four years ago.  “You’re such a Newb.”  And any time I even remotely screw something up I’m told to “get wrecked.”  

Anyway.  Eventually, we got out and took ATVs around Chiang Mai.  Although we weren’t newbs with the ATVs, riding through the forest was quite bumpy.  Thankfully nobody got, you know, wrecked.   

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That night, we hit up the “Night Safari.”  In my head, I pictured something resembling Jurassic Park, and was disappointed to discover the Night Safari is basically a zoo. Our son got pretty upset when a giraffe ate all of the food he was planning on giving to other animals.  On the positive side, no humans were eaten – a claim Jurassic Park cannot make.  Also, if you ever plan on opening a zoo one day, consider marketing it as a “safari” instead.  It sounds sexier.  

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After the Night Safari, we hit up the “Night Market.”  The area seems touristy, and I see lots of skinny white people.  Picture heavily-tattooed women who look like they just stepped out of yoga class, and dudes wearing colorful pants with elephants on them.   I’m surrounded by liberals.  

The food was good, and the prices were so cheap I’m not sure how any of these people make money.  But Jackie’s a consummate deal finder and can’t help herself.  “$1 for a hand-carved wooden tiger?  Way too much!”  She makes the Shark Tank seem like group therapy.  Safe to say I’m not totally surrounded by liberals…  

Day Seven: “Sticky Falls” 

A week into this eventful trip we went to the Buatong Waterfall.  We learned the actual name of it after our non-english speaking driver made it clear he had no idea what the “Sticky Falls” were.  Its a waterfall you can climb. 

You take steps to the bottom of the fall where you’ll find pool of running water.  Below the surface is mud-like substance that feels like poop.  Our son Brody was convinced this was a poop walk.  He may have been right. 

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The falls themselves were every bit as amazing as advertised.   

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On the way home we begin to appreciate how many towns and cities in Thailand contain the word “Dong” (and to a lesser extent, “Wang“).  My wife cannot let any of this go without obnoxious laughter and obligatory follow-on conversation.  One day we passed an area called “Hang Dong” and even I had to concede she had a point there.  

Day Eight: Bungie Jumping

On the Eighth Day, I decided to go Bungie Jumping.  Anyone who has seen me while hanging Christmas lights can testify to the fact that I fear heights.  In high school I asked a grown man to “hold me” at a ropes course.  20 years later, I’m still hearing about this.    

Bungie Jumping is cheap in Thailand.  Also, life insurance is included, which is great because I’m fairly certain my military insurance won’t be covering any of this.  I sign my life away, pay the fee, and head over to the jump site.  While speaking in Thai, they tie my legs together, put me in a chair that takes me up 200 feet, and then set me up for the big fall.  

We get to the top, and I’m asked to hobble to the very edge of the lift while I stare 200 feet down.  “1, 2, 3, Bungie!” the guy said.   I went nowhere.  But now I hear Jackie hazing me and I know there’s no chance I’m getting out of this.  I fall while screaming like a maniac.  “HOLD ME!” 

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Day Nine: The Hellacious Journey Home

Chiang Mai to Bangkok to Manilla to Guam.  With kids.  What could go wrong?  

Well, it all went south when Philippine Airlines linked up with, you guessed it, the Manilla Airport. Picture delays, non-sensical excuses, lines, countless security checks, temper tantrums (by the adults), more delays, and a desperate need for Gold Bond.  This place is the worst.  

Thankfully our kids have tablets which keep them occupied and makes all of this ok.   The universe has now reminded me of exactly why we got these kids tablets to begin with.  

Around midnight, the boys slept.  Riley put a sandwich on Jimmy because she was bored.  Sleep deprived, this was hilarious… much funnier than it looks now.  

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After 24 hours of travel, we finally got back to Guam and I’ve never been happier to be home.  

Overall, the trip was exhausting, and at times downright difficult.  But Thailand is a special place unlike any other in the world.  I’ve been blessed to go on several very relaxing vacations where I remained firmly in my comfort zone the entire time.  This was not one of those trips.  But the memories will last a lifetime.  

Traveling through Thailand with kids is not for the feint of heart.  It takes patience and an open mind.  Oh, and don’t be a newb...  

Bring friends, and an endless supply of deodorant as well.  It’s hot here.  

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29 Oct 2017
1 Comment

I Tried Single Parenting For A Week And Holy Cow It Was Awful

Just leave the kids with me, I said.  What could possibly go wrong?  I said…

This week, for the first time, I watched the kids while my wife headed back to the states after the loss of a dear friend.  In my world of constant travel and trials, it just so happened to be a week where I was home.  What follows is a no-kidding recap of how it all unraveled.  And boy did it ever unravel…

The Turnover:  Prior to her departure, the wife gave me lots of tips on how to keep the kids alive and thriving.  This is overwhelming because our kids are spoiled.  Exacerbating matters, I was only half listening, so I learned just enough to be dangerous.  For instance, I know that “Brody needs (insert something about 5mL of medicine),” and “Riley only eats (some kind of food) for lunch” and that I can’t forget about Jimmy’s homework.  Or something.    

Whatever, I got this.

Saturday:  Drop wife off at airport with no drama.  Solid.  Then take the boys to soccer.  Too easy.  

Then I take the boys to GameStop as a bribe to basically be good all week.  My thought was we could get a video game to share and enjoy.  Well, we get there and the oldest wants a Pokemon card set all for himself.  Our four y/o grabs the first thing he can find – a nerdy board game – and assures me that it’s what he has “always wanted.”  I should have seen this coming.   

That night, I take the kids to a free country concert by Hunter Hayes on base.  The boys waste no time whining about the noise and asking me “when’s it gonna be over?”  Little do they know they are hearing the pre-concert music, and the show hasn’t even started.  But they loved it…

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His favorite part of the concert

Sunday:  Wake up, play, eat cereal, and head to church.  Then we head home and eat Lunchables.  You might be wondering how I find time to serve such healthy meals.  Well, we had nachos for dinner so its not like we don’t have a cheat meal every now and then.

Monday:  This is the first school day, and I quickly realize how much this week is going to suck.  Evidently our four year old doesn’t have school today because he has a Parent-Teacher conference right smack in the middle of the workday.  Does our pre-schooler’s ability to play with blocks and markers warrant a quarterly meeting?  A text from my wife makes clear I’m supposed to go.     

My suspicions were confirmed when, after driving across town and re-arranging my entire day, I learn nothing more than our son is doing “great” in school.  Oh, great.  

That night, after soccer practice, a neighbor asks me if our family wants some of her extra Sloppy Joes.  I politely reply that I would love some “Sloppy Hoes.”  It was autocorrect, I promise.  I have neither the time nor the energy for Sloppy Hoes this week…  

Tuesday:  It’s Drug Free week, which means the kids get to wear a hat to school.  Ironically, today I will be litigating a case involving, you know, cocaine.  

Before any of this happens, I make lunch.  One wants a red apple, the other wants a banana.  One wants a PB&J, the other wants turkey – but only if its cut in the middle.  Even I know that the quality of one’s lunches can make or break their status as a cool parent.  

With lunch set, I take the older two to the bus and drop the youngest at his school so I can get to work to do, like, my job.  I’m freaking exhausted and it’s not even 8am.  

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That afternoon, the older kids have “early release” which means they hop off the bus at an even more inconvenient time than normal.  Upon arrival, they beg to go to the convenience store down the road.  I make one rule, and that is that they cannot buy candy.  Are we clear?  Crystal clear? Good.  

So of course they go and buy candy.  The ensuing interrogation yields several false official statements.  One tells me “I didn’t hear you when you said that,” and the other points to her brother and says he convinced her it was ok.  And you see, this is how the Bible begins.

Wednesday:  Standard morning chaos.  Then work.  Then soccer practice.  Neighbors brought us dinner the night before but we ate it all, so its cereal and Ramen noodles on the menu tonight.  And then of course they need dessert.  After all this, we do homework and get ready for bed.  And when it’s all over, it’s time to do dishes.  Actually, forget dishes I’m going to bed.  

Thursday:  Morning chaos.  Then go to work, which is really ramping up.  Then gymnastics across the island, then get home to finish the work I left before gymnastics.  Meanwhile, the kids want to play video games, and I have the audacity to recommend they go outside instead.  For this, my son declares it’s the “worst day of his life.”  

Welcome to tyranny, kids.  

Right about now is where I notice all my kids using the “S” word when talking about the pending weekend.  The “S” word is easily the ugliest, most dreadful word in my children’s vernacular.  If your children are reading this, please cover their eyes…

Sleep*ver: defined as neighborhood kids helping our kids turn into punks, flood the house with Legos, and not sleep.  We should really be calling these “awake-overs.” 

Friday:  The kids don’t have school.  It’s not a holiday, they apparently just don’t have school.  Because in Guam Friday is for partying.  

Anyway, I work from home early and then head into the office for a few hours while the kids roam the neighborhood doing who-knows-what.  Honestly, I just hope they have pants on.

At the office I make arrangements to fly to Hawaii on Sunday morning.  Mom gets home Monday night, so there’s a gap in kid coverage.  It’s all becoming rather stressful.  Just when I’m ready to tap out of this unique social experiment, I get the word: one of the kids has lice.  Holy sleep*ver!

I get home, treat the hair, and handle child’s fragile psychological state.  Good to go. Now I just need to put the entire house in trash bags Dexter-style, and then do 18 loads of laundry – all while trying not to convulse at the thought that there were actual bugs living in my kids’ hair.  

I pop on a movie and finish this hellacious night outside with a questionably large glass of wine.  I’m starting to get my wife…  

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Saturday:  Breakfast of champions is Cinnamon Toast Crunch. Then we get ready for soccer, which is a game of 21-questions.  Like, “where did you last remember having your jersey?” and “why do you not have shin guards?” and “WERE LATE WHY AREN’T YOU IN THE CAR ALREADY???”  Another Saturday in paradise.  

That evening the base is hosting a Halloween event, so the kids get to dress up in their costumes for the 18th time this month, and spend some time with their friends.  Of course, they’re only allowed to do this after they’ve had their dinner…

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On the way home I load the kids up with candy, and then remind them that I’m leaving in the morning and they will be staying with our neighbors for two days until mom gets back from the states.  Ok?  Ok?  

Suffice it to say, it was not ok.  “We talked about this, guys” I explained.  Say, where have I heard that phrase before??  Holy cow I’m becoming more like my wife with each passing second.  Anyway, I pull over to address the river of tears.

And this, right here, is why single parents have it so hard.  It’s not balancing household chores with deadlines at work, nor is it the moments when you just want to sit and veg out but can’t because a school project is due tomorrow.  It’s hardest when your kids are devastated and there’s no-one else to help – you just have to figure it out yourself.  

My wife just did this for over seven months while I was deployed.  Other parents out there have to do this, like, forever.  I did it for seven days.  I tip my cap to you, single parents.  You have my sympathy and admiration all at once.  

In truth, I am blessed beyond measure to have such happy, healthy children, and this week was precious… minus the lice, and some other things. 

As for my kids, I’m pretty sure they’re doing all their homework and eating well and enjoying their sleep*ver with the neighbors.  And if not, I really don’t care as long as they’re wearing pants.  

A final note to my wife: welcome home.  Now kindly make your way to the store because we desperately need more milk and cereal.  Also, I know I don’t need to tell you this, but…

Grab a bottle of wine while you’re at it.

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Posted in Crazy Stories, Guam, Rants and tagged , , , , , , , ,
24 Sep 2017

“I Do Not Have Gas!” And Other Highlights From Our Epic Trip to Korea

Seoul, Korea is an amazing place where strangers give your kids candy on the train and in no way is it creepy.  The people are genuinely nice… and fascinated by white kids.  Ours played their part well.  

I note that Seoul is in South, vice North, Korea.  For the three months that led up to this trip a  certain member of my family may have accidentally mixed up these two countries and told her friends we were going to “North Korea.”  Slight mix up.  

The trip was mostly amazing.  The kids gave us their fair share of “this is boring” and “when can we go back to the hotel.” Fortunately we combated this with new toys, orange sodas, and cake for lunch.  

Here’s a breakdown of our epic week in Korea: 

Day One: Korean War Museum  

On the first day we went to the Korean War Museum.  I’m not much of a museum guy, but this place has real planes, tanks, and boats all over it.  The kids wanted to be in all kinds of pictures while climbing on all kinds of historically-preserved war artifacts.  

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They also insisted on taking some pictures themselves.  Either this will need more practice or our youngest got a great picture of the two people he cares about the most…

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For lunch, we went authentic and ordered pizza.  

We also went to a market where a woman who didn’t speak english communicated to us through a translator app.  At one point in the conversation, she held her phone up which proudly declared “I do not have gas!”  I can only hope thats what she was actually trying to tell us.  

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Hooray for no Gas! 

It didn’t take long to discover that Koreans drive like legit maniacs.  Its not a stereotype, its just a fact.  Traffic lights seem to be more like “suggestions,” and even those don’t really apply to taxis and buses.  And I’ve concluded that people on mopeds in Korea are hoping to die because they commonly drive full speed into crowded intersections without regard for their safety.  Or anything.  

Day Two: Gyeongbokung Palace, Seoul Tower, and River Cruise 

On the second day we went big.  First, we went to this Korean Palace which dates back to the 1300s.  We didn’t take a guided tour, and I didn’t actually read much of the brochure, so I cannot tell you much about the palace other than it looks really, really cool.

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It didn’t take long for the kids to start complaining about how they were bored, hot, and anxious to get back.  On our way out, a group of Koreans asked us to be in a video where we all said “welcome to Seoul.”  I’m still hoping to become YouTube famous, so naturally I agreed.    

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For lunch, we really channeled our inner-Koreans and ate pizza.  At the exact same pizza place we went to the day before.  Gettin real cultured.  

In the afternoon we went to Seoul Tower, which offers the best views of Seoul in town.  We hitched a ride to the top.  They charged us about $30 for the whole family, and frankly I would have paid whatever they asked cuz it’s a ridiculously long way up.  

While up there we ran into some women who wanted pictures with the kids.  Why of course…  

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That night, we went on a Han River Cruise, where you can see the Seoul skyline at night and then watch fireworks.  We almost missed the cruise, and everyone was super tired.  But we held it together (literally) and had a blast (figuratively).  

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This is what the end of a day of tourism with kids looks like…

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Day Three: The Zoo. 

I don’t like zoos.  There, I said it.  Zoos are not my thing.  Every time we go its hot and crowded and smelly.  But on the third day in Seoul we went to the Zoo.  We saw lions, tigers, seals, and lots of other zoo-worthy stuff.

Problem is, our youngest was hoping to see pigs.  When he discovered the zoo did not have pigs, he was sure to let us know he was having the “Worst. Day  Ever!”  And so he was.  

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But we didn’t want to see zebras…  

Oh, and it turns out that I’m not the only dad who isn’t thrilled about the zoo.  I got a great pic of a dad fighting off sleep at the llama exhibit.  I’m right there with you, sir. 

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Here’s proof that some dad truths are universal

After the zoo we went to a marketplace in search of a Pokemon-inspired stuffed animal named “Psyduck.”  We didn’t find it, and this was devastating to our oldest.  He didn’t even need to say it.  We already knew it was the #worstdayever. 

That night, shockingly, we ate pizza.  And made some new friends.   Not bad for the worst day of my son’s life.

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The Photobomb that resulted in me looking super creepy

Day Four:  Lotte World

On the Fourth day we went to an indoor/outdoor amusement park called “Lotte World.”  On the way there our youngest made a friend on the train who wanted to get a picture.  He also invited our son to sit on his lap.  That wasn’t gonna happen, but they did have a great time.  

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Lotte World is endless.  It’s a junior varsity version of Disneyland, but less crowded and mostly indoors, so the temperature is perfect.  They had quite a few rides all of the kids could enjoy.  The problem with this place is that waaaaayyy too many rides required extra money.   And here I thought America had a lock on the nickel and dime approach…

Oh, but great news!  Lotte World had the “Psyduck” our oldest had been looking for.  With all due respect to Disneyland, Lotte World may have been the happiest place on earth for this kid.  

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Welcome to the family, Psyduck

Day Five:  The De-militarized Zone (DMZ) 

On the fifth day we went to the DMZ.  This is where the borders of North and South Korea meet.  With so much of the news revolving around N. Korea these days, this was great stuff to know and see.  

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We went to a tunnel that was dug by the N. Koreans to invade Seoul back in the 70s.  We also went to an overlook where you can see the entirety of the DMZ.  I won’t say too much more about what we observed because last time Hollywood talked too much about North Korea they all got hacked.  I don’t feel like changing all my passwords, so instead I’ll just post this funny picture of our son… 

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Our tour guide made some interesting observations.  She noted that tourism was way down because of “the Fat Man.”  Minutes later, she informs us that if North Korea launches a nuke at Seoul they will “all be dead in six minutes and there is nothing anyone can do about it.”  

But she assured us that we were all safe…  

The DMZ is a must see in Korea.  I knew nothing about the Korean War and had no legitimate background on what is inspiring current events until I went and saw it for myself.  

Day Six: Some Random Korean Neighborhood

On the sixth day we went to an “authentic Korean neighborhood” which is actually just a tourist trap filled with Starbucks Coffees and places to get fried chicken.  It’s not even worth my time to google the actual name of the place we went to. 

While we were there, we stopped to eat outside someones house.  While we were eating, the owner invited us into his house, gave us water, and set us up at a table.  Super nice guy.  Of course we all had to get a picture.  Psyduck too…

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The next day we went home.  Fully charged tablets made for an eventless plane ride.  Parents have it so easy these days.  

The trip was eventful, and super fun.  Koreans are some of the nicest, most genuinely friendly people you will ever meet.  We left with fond memories, new friends, and of course, our main man “Psyduck.”  

Also, in case you are wondering, I too do not have gas.    

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11 Sep 2016
1 Comment

Our Drama-Filled Adventure to Tarzan Falls

I confess I’m not the world’s most outdoorsy person. Kayaking? That’s a sunburn waiting to happen. Camping? My bed works better. 

Left to my own devices I’d spend a perfectly good Saturday on the couch setting my fantasy football team, watching HGTV and eating copious amounts of Cinnamon Life. Now that’s living.   

But alas!  My wife is a planner.  She is outdoorsy.  And she is a big fan of mandatory fun.  

She’ll want to spend her entire Saturday doing something intrinsically senseless like picking apples or cutting down a Christmas Tree.  Apparently these activities are far more exciting than the football matchup I wanted to watch between the Central Michigan Chippewas and the Oklahoma State Cowboys.  I digress…

Naturally when my wife proposed we go hiking this weekend I had reservations. See, like doing Hot Yoga and eating hard-to-pronounce pastas, Ive always kinda assumed hiking was an activity exclusively for liberals.  Plus, see paragraphs above. 

Well, on tap this weekend was a trip to a place called Tarzan Falls.  Like, for a hike.  

As always, I tried to bargain. What if instead of going to Tarzan Falls we watch the movie Tarzan instead???  In the end we compromised… and went to Tarzan Falls. 

As with all directions on this island, the directions to Tarzan Falls lacked street signs, an address, and visible markers. We were literally told to take a left out of our neighborhood, then “go till it gets kinda forest-y,” and then look for the shoes hanging from the telephone wire.  Then, of course, you’re there.

In preparation I drank three cups of coffee.  Which is where this whole adventure begins…

Three minutes into the ride over and we need to stop. Like right now! 

And so there I was, on the side of the road.  Going to the bathroom in a sea of painful prickly bushes and bracing for a tree snake attack while the rest of my family laughed from the car.  Guess you could say it was your standard car ride…

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We arrive at Tarzan Falls around 11am and I waste no time taking an insane amount of pictures so my Facebook friends will think we do this kinda stuff every day.  Smiles kids! 

Jackie is sporting the brand new workout shoes she (ahem, we…) just bought in order to replace the older ones that had mud and dirt all over them.  That will become important in a moment…

Okay moments up.  Jackie’s new shoes were drowning in mud and dirt no more than 100 yards into this adventure.   AND THIS IS WHY WE CANT HAVE NICE THINGS. 

In fairness, I suppose we all underestimated how insanely muddy this trek would be.  So much mud.  And sitting water.  And more mud. 

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Coming Soon: There Will Be Mud 

The kids waste no time reminding Jackie and me that we’re legit tyrants.  “It’s so hot,” “I’m so hungry,” and “I can’t walk anymore.”  Not even ten minutes in and all the kids are apparently going to die.  

The good news is there are some pretty cool things to point out along the way. 

Like…

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Stunning views of Guam

And even more importantly…

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A “Prince” Frog!!!

It was all fun and games until our 5 year old daughter slipped and fell into the mud.  I don’t have a picture of this particular moment, but what follows should give you a good idea of how this went down: 

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MUD!!!!

Others would soon follow suit.  Slip, fall, mud, tears.  Repeat.  

Eventually we make our way down the steep hills. The blood sweat and tears were all worth it when we got to this: 

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And did this: 

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And this: 

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One more: 

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After lunch it was time to head back.  

The hike back up was tough, no doubt.  The kids noted that the trek was “soooo far,” and that they were “soooo tired” and inquired into exactly when we would “finally get to mommy’s car.”  My personal favorite?  “I’m not hydrated enough to take another single step!” 

Try not to die, kids…

Then we hit a swamp.  The kids walked around it in painfully slow fashion until my quick-thinking wife convinced them there was an alligator in there.  Speed-walking commenced.

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We finish around 1:30.  Two and a half hours of Guam-inspired mandatory fun.  

Honestly? It was a blast! And perhaps somewhere deep down I really am an outdoors-y person. 

But for today, I’ll be watching the Indiana-Ball State Football Game and eating cereal on the couch while my wife does laundry. 

Say, she sure is lucky to have me. 

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Posted in Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , ,
12 Jan 2014

Our Wild and Crazy “Family Vacation” in Paradise

Vacationing with small children is a wild, exhausting, action-packed, drama-filled, Kodak moment-waiting-to-happen adventure suitable for those most brave, fortunate and reckless of parents.  I’ve pretty much said this before.  And in my family, it goes a little something like this:

The madness that was our recent trip to Aruba began right out of the gate.  Literally.  After landing, and then dragging four carry-ons and two diaper bags off the plane, and then weaving my way to the baggage claim, I notice something very odd.  Someone’s toothbrushes, sunscreen, big-boy underwear and other items are making their way around the conveyor belt, and everyone who was on Flight 829 from Baltimore is totally getting a kick out of this.  Whose luggage was it?  I’ll give you one guess…

Next stop: our all-inclusive beachfront resort where they serve endless amounts of French Fries drenched in nacho cheese, super-greasy chicken nuggets, and delicious fruity beach drinks.  This will be my meal of choice for the next nine days.  It’s a menu from Heaven – unless you actually mind undoing seven months of intense exercise in about four days.       

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Before I get too far ahead of myself, I should mention that in addition to my family (two adults, three kids) our group consisted of an additional five adults and seven kids all packed into four hotel rooms.  It’s a gloriously-chaotic compilation of nieces, nephews, and in-laws.  Ten kids.  Average age of the little ones?  Three and a half.  There were ten of them. 

Our time spent at the resort was an awesomely-tiring circus of fun and craziness.  Here’s how an average day would go down:

3:00am: baby wakes up.

4:30am: baby wakes up again.

5:00am: baby…

Look, anyone who can maintain their baby’s sleep schedule throughout the course of an international vacation really has this parenting thing down.  Furthermore, baby Brody had an ear infection and I’ve found that when you’re traveling, you’re only ever as happy as your least healthy child.   

6:00am:  Jimmy decides he’s ready to be up for good.  

Quickly and quietly, I surrender and take my oldest outside so my still-nursing wife and the other kids can get a few minutes of uninterrupted sleep.   See, when our family of five shares one small hotel room, each night brings with it yet another hostage negotiation, and these kids know they have all the bargaining power.  They’re cute little criminals.   

Don't be deceived...

Don’t be deceived…

8:00am-10:00am: kids play in sand nicely while mom and dad enjoy coffee and conversation. 

Umm, just kidding.  The kids are probably arguing over who had the pink bucket first… at least that’s what I gather as I hear a chorus of toddlers screaming “MINE!”   Or perhaps it’s a scuffle over the rightful owner of an incredibly popular Thomas the Tank Engine toy.   The purple sand shovel?  That’s “MINE” too.  If you’ve ever been on a trip with a bunch of kids, chances are you’ve said “you can share” many, many times.  Or my personal favorite: “well, take it back from him.”  Either way it’s gonna end in tears. 

The aftermath...

The aftermath…

All of this leaves me wondering why I’m drinking coffee when I could be drinking bourbon.   I’m kidding, of course.  The bar doesn’t open til 11… 

10:00am-11:00am: get ready for the pool. 

Getting small children ready for the pool truly is God’s work.  If you’ve ever seen how ghostly pale I am, you’ll know that we’re rollin’ to the pool with sun shirts, sun hats, and lots of SPF 75 sun screen.   Spray-on sunscreen is amazing, but the best way to cover a face is the old fashion way, which can get sloppy.  So imagine all this happening while two toddlers scream “MY EYES!!!!” at the top of their lungs.   

Ready to swim?  Almost.  All we need is our flotation devices and ear plugs.  And one last trip to the potty.  Oh, and JUICE! 

I may need a vacation from all this vacation…

11:00am-2:00pm: pool time.

Time spent at the pool is legit family fun time, and involves a lot of playing a pretend “silly” lion, or launching kids up in the air as far as humanly possible, or contests to see who can make the most amazing football reception while leaping into the deep end.  It’s all good stuff.   

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My wife and I keep those kids swimming as long as possible because every two minutes spent in the pool adds another minute to naptime.  It’s science.  And when you’re vacationing with small kids, each hour of naptime is like a stick of pure gold.  You treasure that stuff.   

2:00-3:00pm: shower and prep kids for their naps.

Getting multiple sandy children to willingly take a shower is painful, and once in the shower, getting them out can be twice as difficult.  I find bribing them with Skittles helps move this process along quicker and with fewer tears, but if you have a better method please let me know. 

3:00pm-5:30pm: naptime.  

Now quick!  Grab a drink, take a deep breath, and enjoy every glorious moment of childless conversation.   And remember the cardinal rule of naptime parenting: you wake ‘em, you take ‘em.   

NAPTIME!!!!!

NAPTIME!!!!!

6:00pm-8:00pm: dinner.

If there’s one way to ensure you’ll get terrible service and judgmental looks from strangers, it’s walking into a romantic restaurant at its peak busy hour and asking for a “table for 14 plus 3 high chairs.”  Predictably, once we’re seated it’s nothing but chaos.  Picture broken glass because someone didn’t use two hands.  Picture a toddler in timeout because he was climbing on the table and yelling for no reason. Picture a scene as loud, wild and destructive as a group of college students on Spring Break… only louder.  THAT’S what it’s like dining at a table for 14 plus 3 high chairs. 

CHAOS!!!!

CHAOS!!!!

8:00pm-10:00pm: keep kids occupied until bedtime. 

This usually involved long walks, contests to see who could make one of the babies laugh the hardest, or dance parties – and indeed, some of these kids can really shake it.   At this point I’m down for pretty much whatever it takes to bridge the crucial dinner-to-bedtime gap; however, that does come with a few caveats.  Climbing rocks?  “Just be careful.”  Running around the pool?  “Be careful.” Dancing around a cactus?  “CAREFUL!”

Which brings me to my point: I don’t understand why I tell my children to “be careful.”  It’s as senseless as “it is what it is,” and as unhelpful as when you lose your phone and some genius says “well, it’s gotta be SOMEWHERE.”  Lesson learned: “being careful” means nothing to my children – particularly Jimmy, who actually did fall on a cactus.  I guess that just is what it is… 

Not my fault. I told him to be careful...

Not my fault. I told him to be careful.

10:00pm: bedtime. 

How do we go about capitalizing on this newfound freedom?  We go to sleep cuz we’re exhausted and this whole process will repeat itself in the morning.   

So yea, that’s what it was like vacationing with a bunch of kids. 

Timed family photo fail...

Timed family photo fail…

Oh, and in case anyone is wondering what it’s like getting a flight out of Aruba, apparently this is the process: you stand in line to check in, and then check your bags.  Then you stand in a line to have your passport checked, after which you stand in another line to have passport “verified.”  Then you stand in line to go through security.  Once your shoes and belt are back on, you make your way to “US Departures” where you grab the bags you just checked, and then stand in line again to go through another layer of customs, after which you go through security.  Again.  And then you check your bags.  Again. 

It was every bit as long and painful as a tax audit.  Or a Redskins game.  At one point I actually wondered if this was the island’s way of punishing me for not attending a single timeshare presentation.   Perhaps I’ll never know. 

What I do know is this: in a few years, these trips will be relaxing and rewarding.  But for now, while the kids are this young, I’m simply thankful that it was indeed a very rewarding nine days in paradise. 

Cuz let me tell ya, there’s nothing relaxing about a table for 14 plus 3 high chairs… 

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Posted in Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , | Leave a comment
29 Aug 2013
4 Comments

17 House Rules Our Toddlers Are Destined To Break

Kids, 

We need to talk.  See, it recently dawned on me that at all times our house is like a Wal-Mart on Black Friday.  It’s pure chaos.  So, what follows is a list of what functional families call “rules.” You probably don’t know what a “rule” is, but hey, until a few days ago I had no idea what “twerking” was.  So we’re all gonna learn something new this week.

Rules will take all those fun things you love doing (like standing on the dishwasher, running to the neighbors, running with scissors…), and prevent you from doing them any longer.  At least that’s the idea. They’re standing orders.  They’re the worst.  So please, sit down and take a few deep breaths as you soak these in.  Ready?  Here we go…

1.  No death-jumps onto the dog

Don’t get me wrong, “Lilo” really appreciates you using her rapidly-aging back as an art canvas, step stool and lunch tray.   However, your aggressive, Hulk Hogan-esque flying thrust kick from the couch is shockingly not all that comfortable for her.  So for now, let’s just stick to headlocks and bear hugs.  Or perhaps even just regular old hugs…

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2.  No sneaking outside when you randomly feel like it 

Look, I get it.  Escaping this house makes you feel like Tim Robbins in the climax of an uplifting prison drama.  But rules are rules.  You are banned from walking out of this complex we call “home” without adult supervision and underwear.  Or at least underwear… 

3.  Absolutely no street

The street is like the “shadowy place” in the Lion King – you must never go there!   This means you can’t sprint out onto the street with arms flailing about like a reckless maniac. It also means you can’t kneel down at the curb, put one finger on the asphalt, and then look up at me to see if that counts.  Trust me, that counts.

4.  No helping yourself to the hose 

I’m no expert on firefighting, but I did watch the end of Ladder 49 and would prefer you choose a different profession.  So, this whole “turn-up-the-hose-and-go-crazy-in-the-yard” routine can end.  And thank you, but there’s nothing in the foyer that needs to be watered.  No seriously, turn it off.

5.  No helping yourself out of your bed 

And just so we’re clear: “your bed” does not mean your sibling’s bed, my bed, the dog’s bed or the bathtub.  Now lie down, fork over the puzzle and go to sleep!  Wait, where did you get crackers?!?!   

6.  No helping yourself out of timeout 

Freeze sucker! Anything you say or do for the next two minutes can and will be used against you.  You do not have the right to be represented by your sister.  You actually have no rights whatsoever.  Is this funny to you?  Why are you laughing? 

7.  No Chuck E Cheese coins in the air conditioning vents 

For those who aren’t familiar with the inner-workings of our family, this rule may seem as bizarre and out of place as Shaquille O’Neal in the driver’s seat of the latest Buick sedan.  But unlike said car company, I have no choice in the matter.  So it stays. 

8.  No assaulting your baby brother

Or at very least no assaulting him while he’s sleeping.  Examples of assault include… oh, you know… hitting one’s stomach, vacuuming one’s ears, or furiously stuffing one’s face with pop tarts.  Stuff like that…

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9.  No highly-destructive fridge raiding

So let me get this straight: your story is that while I was in the other room someone broke into the house, dumped a dozen eggs onto the kitchen floor, and then immediately ran out the front door without taking anything?  You’re sure about that?   

10.  No un-chaperoned face-painting parties

Don’t worry; you will have plenty of opportunities to do things like this in college…  

Rules 4 and 10 captured in one highly incriminating picture

And what did I just say about the hose??

11.  No picking each other’s nose

You can pick your own nose as long as we’re not (1) out to dinner or (2) taking family pictures.  However, picking someone else’s nose is weird, gross, and somehow begs for a trip to the emergency room.  Yea, good luck explaining that one to the doctor…

12.  No dumping your drinks

Why yes, I went through all that effort to get you a cup of juice just so you could promptly dump it all over the carpet.  Say, you know what would make this floor smell really awesome?  Bingo!  Your milk! 

13.  No grabbing dog poo with your bare hands

Seriously?  You don’t smell that? 

14.  No unauthorized electronics

Unless told otherwise, all adult electronics are not to be touched.  This specifically includes laptops, hair dryers and shredders.  And don’t bother touching them with one finger and then looking up at me to see if that counts.  Because trust me, that counts.   

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15.  No unauthorized peeing

Forgive me for not explaining this earlier: the fridge is not a potty (PS: you are so weird).  Other things that aren’t toilets: the floor, the couch, the dinner table, mom and dad’s bed, the car, and the dog.  And if you’re gonna go in our bed, then at least do it on mom’s side…

16.  No drinking mom’s Diet Coke

Remember the sound that a protective momma bear makes when someone threatens her cubs?  Well, your mom can make that sound too…

17.  No endless crying sessions for no reason

It’s 10:00pm.  So as shockingly tyrannical as this is going to sound, the answer is “no.” I’m not changing you into your bathing suit.      

Phew, all done.  And I know what you’re probably thinking: I’m the worst.  I’m evil.  I sit on a throne of lies.  It’s all true.  And unfortunately there will be no “good cop, bad cop” routine here because you’re mom’s crooked too. 

However, rules are meant to be broken, and sadly there’s no chance you two conspirators will be following them anyway.  So, your mom and I may be willing to look the other way during one of your infamous hose fights if you’d kindly never go into the street, because that really scares us.  Deal?

-Dad

PS: Oh, and don’t bother standing at the edge of the curb hovering your right foot over the street to see if that counts.  Just trust me, that counts…

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Posted in Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , ,
12 Aug 2013
4 Comments

28 Totally Random Thoughts From Myrtle Beach

I spent the last week in Myrtle Beach, SC swimming with children, bathing myself in sunscreen, and doing some thinking about life down by the boardwalk.  Consider this a print-out of those thoughts:

1. This whole YOLO thing isn’t going way. 

YOLO, or You Only Live Once, is the “WWJD” of this decade, as about half the shirts and hats I saw on the boardwalk bear the acronym.  It also goes on my official List of Things I Never Thought Would Last Longer Than Two Years, which includes energy drinks, Taylor Swift and text messaging.

2. If I ever see my daughter wearing a “Beer Slut” shirt she will be grounded for months, and then forced to wear a turtleneck and corduroy pants for the rest of her life.

To clarify: there will be no wearing of shirts that say “Beer Slut.”

To clarify: there will be no wearing of shirts that say “Beer Slut.”

3. Cruise by Florida Georgia Line ft. Nelly kinda makes me wish I had a brand new Chevy with a lift kit…

4. My two year-old son is in love and he doesn’t care who knows it!!!

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Jimmy did not hide his feelings for this girl! Look at him…he’s hooked! Meanwhile, my wife, mother in law and I enjoyed chanting “Jimmy’s got a girlfriend!” and good Lord are we going to enjoy embarrassing him when he actually gets one.

5. We have a twin stroller and a baby stroller.  So naturally our twins fight like savages over who gets to ride in the baby stroller.

Riley wins this battle...but the war is far from over.

Riley wins this battle…but the war is far from over.

6.  My wife doesn’t think hotel maids need to be tipped.  I, however, vehemently disagree and think they deserve to be tipped.

Of course, what maids really deserve when they walk into our cracker crumb factory of a hotel room is a heartfelt apology and a pay raise. Or better yet, a new job.

Of course, what maids really deserve when they walk into our cracker crumb factory of a hotel room is a heartfelt apology and a pay raise. Or better yet, a new job.

7.  I totally forgot our anniversary. 

Fortunately my wife did too, so I got a mulligan on this one. Say, will someone out there please give me a heads up about three days before Valentines Day? Equally important: will someone give my wife the same heads up?

Fortunately my wife did too, so I got a mulligan on this one. Say, will someone out there please give me a heads up about three days before Valentines Day? And equally important: will someone give my wife the same heads up?

8. The pool is no place to call a toddler’s bluff on the subject of going “poop.”  Moving on…

9.  Restaurants that slip a $.50 charge on the bill for each little Dixie cup of ice water served should be shamed publicly.

This place belongs on some kind of sex offender registry for restaurants. If you see this establishment then I suggest you hide your kids and hide your wife!

This place belongs on some kind of sex offender registry for restaurants. If you see this establishment then I suggest you hide your kids and hide your wife! And your husbands too! 

10. Whoever invented spray-on sunscreen deserves a Nobel Prize as far as I’m concerned – a mind-blowingly genius invention on the same level as air conditioning and the bunk bed.

Totally covered.

Fear not: this white boy is totally covered!

11.  Navigating a double stroller through heavy pedestrian traffic on the boardwalk is pretty much the worst thing ever.  It involves a lot of this: “Excuse me.  Sorry.  Excuse me.  Sorry.”  Now repeat…

12.  “No, daddy, no!” I hear that quite a bit now, and will probably continue to hear that for at least the next 18 years.  Nooooo!!!!

13.  Getting our toddlers to leave an arcade without crying is simply impossible.

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“More! More! Please! Please! No, daddy, no!” Yea, that’s the thanks I get for shelling out every last quarter to my name.

14. Watching Shark Week minutes before heading out to swim in the ocean is kind of terrifying.

Not too deep son!!!!

Not too deep son!!!!

15. The 1200 N Ocean Boulevard at which we arrived after 8 grueling hours of driving is about 45 minutes from the 1200 N Ocean Boulevard we really needed to get to.  Dang you iPhone Navigation!!!!

16. Continental breakfasts are so underrated.  I applaud the hotel industry for making this pretty much standard.  Now let’s start working on Continental lunches, dinners and midnight snacks…

17.  There is an ocean and four amazing pools at this hotel, and naturally our kids want to spend almost all of their time on these 90+ degree days in the 102+ degree hot tub. 

18. Watching hundreds of disgusting catfish eat little pieces of grain is strangely fascinating to me.  Is that weird?

No, it's not weird. It's actually awesome.

19. There is nothing worse than trying to enjoy a delicious fruity beverage in a lazy river, and having rowdy teenagers ruin EVERYTHING by turning it into a racetrack.  #firstworldproblems.

20. When your son wants to ride the giraffe but someone else takes it and all that’s left is a horse, carousel rides are only medium-fun. 

#toddlerproblems

#toddlerproblems

21. At what point during the course of an eight hour drive is it no longer a lie to tell your children that they’re “almost home”?  After two hours?  Three? 

22.  Nothing will make you run through a fast food restaurant faster than seeing your two-year old daughter naked in the play place.  Like, totally, completely, 100% naked.   Not even socks.

23. In high school, I came here for “Beach Week.”  Now, 12 years later, it’s referred to as “a week at the beach,” and trust me there’s a huge difference.

24.  You know you’re a mom when…

An expensive pineapple drink starts leaking and you fix the problem by putting a diaper on it. Mom with the save!

…an expensive pineapple drink starts leaking and you fix the problem by putting a diaper on it. Mom with the save!

25. This is what 95% of our family pictures look like:

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26. The Ferris Wheel is the only place in Myrtle Beach that offers a military discount.

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Trust me, my wife checked everywhere. Every. Where.  

27.  My daughter sleeps with her bottom pretty much straight up in the air.  Which is amazing.

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What’s even more amazing is that my mother-in-law, Tricia Craddock, slept with these two each night of the trip so my wife and I could get some sleep.  Yes!

28. And lastly, thank you, Gunnery Sgt. Ryan Jeschke, USMC.

A year ago this week, Jeschke was killed while honorably defending our country in Afghanistan.  He was a hardcore special ops Marine serving his fifth active duty deployment.  Five deployments.  He embodied “YOLO” before YOLO became YOLO. 

Or better yet, that’s WWJD.

And more importantly, he sacrificed his life for others, which is exactly “What Jesus Would Do”

May God bless his wife and family, and may our family never forget the sacrifices others have made so that we can spend a week playing in an arcade, drinking in a lazy river, and yes, chasing my naked daughter through a Chick-fil-A.

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19 Jul 2013
40 Comments

16 Survival Tips From A Fellow Father of Twins

When I found out my wife was pregnant with twins, I asked as many people as I could for their advice on parenting. What I usually got was real sentimental stuff about how I should “cherish every minute” because “before you know it, they’re grown.” Now that’s nice, and it’s probably true, but it wasn’t very helpful at 4am with I was rocking a frantic baby for the millionth time, or when I was alone with the kids and poop was freaking everywhere.

So. After some collaboration with my wife, I present to you a list of practical advice specifically geared toward future and current fathers of young twins. I note that I’m not an expert on twins, parenting, or pretty much anything.  But I can change two diapers in less than 30 seconds, and dang it, that should count for something.  With credentials established, here it goes:

1. Don’t bother buying two of everything.

Ahh twins, so cute. Matching outfits, matching cribs, and matching toys are an obvious necessity, right? Umm, wrong. First off, matching clothes is something I pretty much never do because our children are actual people with unique personalities and not some public freak show. Furthermore, the “get-two-of-everything” approach is a big mistake because twins would rather steal from each other than each have their own.  If you really wanna plan ahead, get extra diapers and coffee instead.

2. Don’t plan on vacationing for, like, a really long time.

Oh gosh. Flashbacks. Jamaica. Our kids were seven months old. Between the flight, subsequent ear infection, lack of sleep, and lack of sanity, they pretty much cried the whole time. And come to think of it, I did too. Trips to visit new grandparents are much different because, to the glory of God, many of them don’t mind holding fussy babies. To recap: trips to visit family, decent idea; trips to a hotel in “paradise” with ultra thin walls and no room for a bouncy seat, terrible idea.

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Now everyone stop crying and smile!  

3. When people offer to hold your children, accept immediately and enjoy every last second of glorious freedom.

If someone wants to hold a baby, THEN FOR GOODNESS SAKE LET THEM! Social functions with lots of young single women or empty nesters are great for this, and church seems to be a place where both are in abundance. So if you’re a nonbeliever with twins, go to church and be saved in more ways than one.

Who wants him

Who wants him???

4. Don’t *EVER* do the shopping.

T.W.I.N.S. is an acronym for They Will Immediately Nullify your Savings. A double dose of diapers, wipes, formula, clothes, more diapers, more wipes, and more formula is a formula for near bankruptcy, and its best you remain blissfully ignorant of how much all of this is costing you. Now stop asking questions and fork over the platinum!

5. Don’t out-complain your friends dealing with “just one” baby.

Twins provide an endless arsenal of complaints about pretty much everything. Nothing will make you lick your chops more than a friend who complains about how they had to change one poopy diaper the other day when you literally just changed, like, five of them. My advice: constantly remind yourself that raising children is really tough– even for new parents of “just one.” And then be amazed by the dads of triplets out there who think you have it easy with “just two!”

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6. Go out on a date every once in a while.

It’s probably not gonna happen every week, or even every two weeks. But hopefully at least once a month you can pull your wife out of the combat zone and take her to dinner – with no kids. While you’re there, let the most stress-inducing topic of conversation be what you’ll be having for dessert. And whatever you do, don’t let your wife call to check up on the little ones. She doesn’t want to know what’s really going on…

7. Give mom a decent night of sleep at least once every week.

On Friday nights, I was in charge. I got up with the kids, fed them, rocked them, and took care of them from 11pm to 9am. My wife slept alone those nights, and in return, she ensured that I had relatively-good sleep for the rest of the week. She was also just overall nicer to me. Those mornings were tough, but trust me: the best wife is a rested wife.

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8. Take tons of pictures.

Chances are mom will be too occupied to take the pictures that are truly magical, like the ones where they’re throwing a fit for no reason, or stuck in the dryer, or split seconds away from having a hand bitten by a pig. Also, digital cameras put the cost of each picture at $0.00, so there’s literally nothing to lose. Instagram that baby!

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9. Don’t compare your kids to others who seem to be developing much faster.

Odds are your twins will communicate with the non-verbal language they developed as POWs in the womb. So as much as they would love to shout out their letters, numbers and colors, you may have to settle for “moo” or “da-da” for a while – a looooong while. Also, twins are born ridiculously early. So while my son is in the bottom percentile for weight, height and other measurable indicators of whether he’ll be a star quarterback one day, I take delight in knowing he’ll make an amazing prom date one day.

10. Find one-on-one time for both children.

My son wakes up early and loves to play catch, so we get a lot of time together. Unfortunately, my daughter does neither, and her affection is much harder to come by. So, every now and then I will take her out – just us – and pay for whatever she can hold onto at the dollar store, or treat her to some delicious McDonald’s soft serve. The result: she likes me for a little while.

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11. Teach those babies how to sleep!

At around four or five months, just start plopping your babies in their cribs for a nap at the same time every day and don’t feel guilty when they scream bloody murder for the next 30 minutes – it’s all just part of the learning process.  And when your bachelor friends make fun of you for leaving a party early because it’s “way past their naptime” and the kids are “all off today,” just know I was right there with you, brother. Now hurry home before bedtime gets screwed up too!

12. Master the art of something helpful, like giving baths or taking long walks.

Apparently my wife isn’t a big fan of showering while two infants scream just yards away. To keep my wife sane (and sanitary), I would occasionally strap the kids in the stroller and walk them for a solid 30 minutes while I chatted with whoever was willing to help me kill the time (thanks mom!). As for me, well, I just pretty much stopped showering altogether…

13. Pray. Like, all the time.

Pray with them and pray for them. Pray that ear infections go away, pray that they eat better, and pray for two successive days without some new sickness they will soon share. Seriously, just pray. And when they’re answered, you’ll know better than to take them for granted. Amen?

14. Actually play with your kids for a few minutes every single day.

Stop everything you’re doing and roughhouse with the kids. You should see my daughter’s face when I playfully declare “TICKLE TIME!”, or the look of excitement my son gets when I grab a whiffle ball and head outside. My wife would much rather I help make a few frowns dissapear than help make a few dishes disappear… and frankly so would I.

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15. If possible, hire a maid for a while.

I’ve never really cared about a little dust on the headboard or toothpaste in the sink. Heck, if I put the toilet seat down I’m having a good day. But my wife cares about these things and had absolutely no time to clean. So, we had a maid come over every other week and it really seemed to help my wife calm down about the house. Usually by the time I got home there were already clothes, toys and crackers all over the place… but the floor sure did smell like Pine-Sol!

16. Just survive the first 9 months or so. You got this!

For months I found myself thanking God it was Monday. Weekends and holidays were a grind, and I was a ticking time bomb when holding the babies so my wife could go to the bathroom. Perhaps it didn’t help that I was working full time and going to law school at night during the worst of it.  But somewhere around 9 or 10 months, they started sleeping a bit more regularly, getting sick less, and playing more – which was amazing. Now they’re two, and they absolutely adore each other… except when they fight over a toy.

If only we had two of everything…

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07 Mar 2013
6 Comments

How I Darn Near Missed the Birth of our Newborn Son

In the military, if you show up on time, then you’re late.  Well, on February 28, 2013, my day began as typical Thursday at Naval Justice School in Newport, Rhode Island.  But one frantic phone call, one delayed flight, two car rides, 420 miles and 10 chewed up fingernails later, I arrived at Fair Oaks Hospital in Fairfax, VA for the birth of our third child with just 10 minutes to spare.  Right on time.

I started getting text messages from my wife at 4:30am letting me know she couldn’t sleep and wanted to talk.  At that ungentlemanly hour, I don’t remember calling her back, but my call history says I did.   Truth is, I was tired that morning because I had labored hard the day before.  Little did I know my wife was in labor…

At 5:20am, I headed out to “Pain Before Breakfast” – Naval Justice School’s “super fun” weekly five mile run around Newport in the freezing cold.  After the run, I got back and immediately headed to class, and still hadn’t really talked to Jackie.  I figured if something was really wrong I would know about it.  Right?    

So.  Back at school, I sneak out during class to check up on Jackie, and the conversation goes like this:

Me: You alright? 

Jackie: Yea, whoa, uhh

(10 second pause…)

Jackie: OH-GOSH-I-GOTTA-CALL-YOU-BACK!

(Click)

Contractions can be such a conversation killer…

I had planned on going home that afternoon anyway, but after a few of these conversations I realized I had to get back immediately.  And shortly thereafter, I left class with perhaps the greatest excuse I have ever had: the birth of my child. 

On the way up to Providence Airport, I started thinking about my odds of making it for the delivery – something that was incredibly important to me.  They weren’t good, and a call from Jackie telling me to “hurry up” made them even worse.  It was at this point that I finally realized she was in labor, nearly seven hours after that whole process had begun. 

Upon arrival I parked, raced inside, and started working my magic to get on an earlier flight.  You could tell I was in a hurry cuz I parked in the garage instead of saving $3/day by parking in another county.  I told the airline reps that my wife was in labor and I needed to get back ASAP (and I may or may not have fumbled with my military ID for bonus sympathy points…).  I got the following responses:

– Southwest: “We don’t have a better flight.  If I were you, I’d go talk to the other airlines.” 

– United:  “We have an earlier flight, but it’s full.  Try US Air.” 

– US Air: “We have a flight, but it’s only 20 minutes earlier and it will cost you $450 to get on it.”  

Uhh, what’s behind door number four? 

Bottom line was: I was stuck on my flight.  And when I got to the gate, I discovered my flight was delayed by 30 minutes.  And two hours later when I finally land in Baltimore, the stewardess tells us there’s a plane in our gate, which means more delays.  My unborn child, in the meantime, is not delaying.

As soon as they opened the doors to the plane, I raced to the front.  One lady, with a tone of disappointment and speaking on behalf of everyone around her, shouts “hey you’re not the only one with places to go!”  Opportunistically, I paused, calmly looked her straight in the eye, and said: “my wife is in labor right now and I’m trying to get to the delivery room… now where are you going?” 

Got em!        

So anyway, I’m at BWI airport, which is a solid hour and change from the hospital without traffic (and there’s always traffic).  I get a call from Jackie’s phone.  It’s her friend Kristen, calling to tell me that the doctor needed to perform a C-section in 30 minutes.   There was no hope: I wasn’t gonna make it on time.  At this point I just prayed that Jackie and our baby would be ok. 

Jackie’s dad picked me up and we headed down a route that those in the Washington, D.C. area avoid with everything they can: 95 to 495 to Route 66.  At rush hour, it’s like being sentenced to three separate deaths.  Kill me. 

I started letting my family know that the baby was about to be born and that I wasn’t gonna make it.  But after a while, I noticed traffic was surprisingly not that bad.  I braced for the inevitable sea of red brake lights that epitomize the DC beltway, but it didn’t come.  Weird, I thought. 

Then, a glimmer of hope: a text message from Jackie’s phone.  “How far away?”  She had been trying to stall this delivery with all her might.  I was easily 35 minutes away, but I told her I would be there “20 minutes max.”  So yea, I lied about how far away I was.  BUT MY WIFE DOES IT TO ME ALL THE TIME!   

At some point I got word that the doctor was “no kidding” gonna deliver this child in 20 minutes, and that Jackie had already headed back to the OR (yea, thats right, I say “OR” instead of “Operating Room” cuz I’ve seen a few episodes of Greys Anatomy…).  My driver pulled some James Bond stuff (while obeying ALL local traffic laws, of course…) and got me to the hospital 10 minutes later.  When we pulled up, I sprinted through the lobby without applying hand sanitizer.  There was no time to disinfect! 

I got to room 313 on the 3rd Floor, where Jackie’s friend Kristen briefed me on what was going on.  With just under 10 minutes til go-time, I changed into what can best be described as an albino clown costume, and headed over to the OR myself.  

Lets do this thing!

Lets do this thing!

As I waited to go in, an air of panic suddenly began to fill the hallway.  Jackie’s doctor needed to come IMMEDIATELY.  Apparently the baby’s heart rate had dropped way below normal levels.  “Heart rate 56” some nurse declared.  When I was at one of the appointments, this baby’s heart rate was in the 180s, so at that point I knew that things weren’t going well. 

I was escorted into the OR and grabbed the hand of a tearful mother in fear of the worst.  At that moment I realized why God had parted the Red Sea for me that day – so I could be there with Jackie at that very moment.  I told her it would be ok and that she was doing great.  I then prayed that things would actually be ok.

It took a while, but eventually they pulled our baby out.  I didn’t even know if it was a boy or girl, and at this point, all I noticed was that it wasn’t making any noise, and it looked kinda blue.  Time stopped while I begged this baby to cry.  “Please just cry!”  I tell ya, 5 seconds never went by so slowly. 

And then it happened: a big wail.  And boy, what a relief it was that the baby was ok.  And speaking of boy, a quick glance “down there” and I realized I was the father of another son.  Nice!  His temporary name was “Boy.” 

It's a dude, trust me.

It’s a dude, trust me.

For about nine months, Jackie and I had been calling this baby “Pat” because I wanted to be surprised by the sex.  Jackie, who hates surprises, was shocked that I never wanted to know.    It was killing her that she had a secret and couldn’t tell it to me – which naturally I loved.    

So I’m standing there filming everything at this delivery and out of nowhere some nurse hands me this creepy set of scissors.  She then gives me the green light to cut the slimy, odd-looking “umbilical cord” poking out of my son’s belly.  A few reiterations of “no, it’s ok” later, and I had earned myself the look of death from the nurse in Operating Room 2.  It got a little awkward in there, I’m not gonna lie… 

From here, they took the baby and me (but not Jackie) to another room in Labor and Delivery, where, in theory, parents get to enjoy the first precious moments of a child’s life.  But that’s not actually what happens… 

See, almost any father will tell you that their primary concern while the baby takes its first breaths of fresh air is maximizing the potential of social media, email, text message, and other forms of electronic communication.  In other words, this is not a Kodak moment – it’s a Smartphone moment.  

So I’m firing away pics and posts and at some point Jackie gets wheeled in.  We immediately begin negotiating names.  This too was awkward because nurses were hovering over us and pretending not to listen in on our conversation.   I wanted the boy’s name to be “Brody.”  I mean sure, that’s the name of a terrorist on the show Homeland, but he’s actually a really nice and sensitive terrorist…      

Here’s the simple truth: Jackie wanted “Brady,” but I can’t stand the New England Patriots.  So we agreed on Brody.   And I think it’s the perfect name for him.   Thus far, nicknames include: Bro, Bro-ham, Brode Master, Sergeant Brody, and Brodo Baggins.  Please help me add to this list – it will only make our “Bromance” that much stronger.    

After two days in the hospital, we came home and introduced Jimmy and Riley to their new younger brother.  They were excited, and Riley wasted no time initiating her brother in the family hierarchy. 

"I'll take this"

“I’ll take this”

Now I’m back at Naval Justice School, where I am constantly thinking about my still-recovering wife and always-crazy children.  Thankfully, she’s surrounded by awesome people who have been preparing meals, cleaning our house, and chasing our toddlers everywhere.  Heck, perhaps Jimmy and Riley had me trained to chase down our newest child from Naval Justice School to Fair Oaks Hospital in just a few hours. 

To think:  ten minutes later, and I would have missed it. 

Would have missed this too...

Would have missed this too…

Posted in Crazy Stories and tagged , , , , , , , ,
10 Feb 2013
4 Comments

You Can’t Handle the Truth: Life at Naval Justice School

Lieutenant Junior Grade Jim Howland, reporting for duty. Kind of.

Well folks, the Navy has sent me back to Newport, RI to get my knowledge on at Naval Justice School – ten weeks of learning all the fun stuff that comes with being a military lawyer. More on that in a bit…

I left January 22, and I assure you I was in a glass cage of emotion. Leaving Jackie and the kids was incredibly hard for me – in fact, there may or may not have been tears as I hugged Jimmy and Riley goodbye. What?

Anyway, my sadness quickly turned into anger as I paid toll after toll after painful freaking toll heading north on Interstate 95. $6 to get out of Maryland. $13 to get through Delaware. The farther north I went, the more I shelled out. At one point, I actually considered this a violation of my Constitutional right to travel.

And this, my friends, is why people hate lawyers.

Eventually, in a moment of golden irony, I hit the New York City skyline right as Jay-Z and Alicia Keys’ rendition of “Empire State of Mind” came on the radio. In retrospect, this was probably not a coincidence. Either way, the volume went up and so did my whiteness factor. What can I say? Big lights will inspire me.

Fortunately, I arrived at Naval Station Newport safe and sound. And pretty much broke.

So. First day of class, and there I am. Hopelessly lost in a room of about 25 Naval Officers and 35 Marines. I knew two of them. It took very little time for me to notice a stark contrast between the Marines and the Sailors. Allow me to expand a bit…

First, Marines just talk differently. They say “rah” all the time, regardless of the appropriateness. They all have crazy stories from Officer Candidate School and The Basic School, and they are not afraid to share them. During the first few months of college I would meet people who went to the same high school and always wanted to talk about how awesome their experience was. Well, that’s kind of how it feels when I’m around these guys. Fortunately, their stories are hilarious.

A few other things: they dip, they curse, and they are not your normal lawyers. In fact, they all hate it here, and would much rather be in the forest somewhere with their faces painted and a rifle in their hands. Oorah?

Anyway. Class begins at Zero Seven Thirty and goes until Seventeen Hundred. To clarify: we do absolutely nothing at Zero Dark Thirty, and the only thing being fired at us is PowerPoint Slides. But I assure you what we do is dangerous.

Here’s what we’ve learned how to do thus far:

-write wills (well, technically a computer program actually writes it);
-write letters (with fancy letterhead!); and
-write…more letters.

Perhaps you’ve noticed a theme.

We’ve also had a riveting debate over whether the Navy Correspondence Manual should require two spaces after a period, or just one. I for one am a fan of two spaces, but I tread carefully because this debate gets personal.

You may be thinking: when are we gonna learn how to bust “Code Reds” out of Guantanamo Bay? Well, we haven’t had that class yet. But I did spot a Code Red Mountain Dew at the Commissary. So that’s exciting.

On Thursday mornings, we partake in a fun little activity called “Pain Before Breakfast.” This is a five mile run at five thirty in the morning. Five. Freaking. Thirty. Of course, attending Pain Before Breakfast is entirely voluntary – kind of the same way you “voluntarily” get in the car when a mob boss pulls up and asks you to join him. And in case my Executive Officer happens to read this, I would like to go on record as saying I absolutely love Pain Before Breakfast and look forward to it every week. Smile.

Fortunately, Pain Before Breakfast is not the only way I strive to exercise – I’m also on the basketball team. For a good laugh, watch me play basketball. Seriously it’s hilarious.

As for Newport, it’s beautiful, but it’s cold. If the low temps don’t make you miserable, the wind will. Sometimes I drive literally across the street because, trust me, it’s worth it. I brought my golf clubs with me thinking I might be able to get out and play. Those poor clubs have been sentenced to solitary confinement in my trunk for the next seven weeks.

And speaking of confinement, I call Jackie (now 36 weeks pregnant) at night to check in on her and see how she’s hanging in there. Here’s how our nice little conversations go…

Me: so how was your day?
Jackie: it was fine. JIMMY, PUT THAT DOWN RIGHT NOW!
Me: Nice. What are you getting into tonight?
Jackie: I don’t know. RILEY, YOU DO NOT KICK YOUR BROTHER!
Jackie: HEY JIM, I GOTTA CALL YOU BACK. (click)

Good talk.

And as much as I miss the kids, I do not miss getting up with them at night. No chance. Eight hours of sleep is a glorious perk of my time here, and I know that when I come home we will have a newborn. Here’s another perk: I have a maid. And she’s awesome: she is a mother of two who works 5 days a week, and then goes to school at night because she wants to become a teacher. God bless ‘Murrica!

So that’s Naval Justice School. I’m just doing my part to kill the terrorists one legal ethics opinion at a time. More to come.

Code Red. Oorah. Over.

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