The many faces of Michael Jackson

WHAT NOW?

The title of my post is not a crack on the "alleged" plastic surgery that Michael Jackson may or may not have had (wink wink). Instead, I wanted to use this time to give my take about the man, the artist and the different stages he went through during his very public life. I have a lot of different thoughts so I will do so in a list format:

1. The very first cassette tape I ever owned was "Thriller"
2. To this day I believe it is one of the best albums of all time
3. I would be glued to MTV every time one of MJ's videos came on
4. The music video for the song "Thriller" scared my younger siblings, but I thought it was awesome.
5. I didn't even know about the Jackson 5 until after the release of "Thriller"
6. I dubbed "Bad" from a friend
7. As I grew older my musical taste changed and I didn't own any other MJ albums
8. However I did still enjoy his music and videos...especially "Black and White" with Norm from "Cheers" in it.
9. When the news stories about MJ started to get more attention then his music I wrote it off as just another celebrity going off the deep end.
10. When allegations of alleged child abuse surfaced I thought either he has really gone off the deep end, or someone is looking to get paid.
11. When even more allegations of child abuse surface I thought he was probably guilty, and if he was he had enough money to never go to jail
12. I think I was right on that one
13. I thought it was sad what was happening to his appearance, both with the surgeries and the disease that was bleaching his skin
14. And yes, I do believe it was a disease...I don't think it's possible to bleach your skin on purpose, but I'm no doctor
15. I thought the marriage to the daughter of Elvis was just a publicity stunt
16. I think I was right again
17. I don't think it worked
18. I didn't think it was a good idea for MJ to father any children, given the messed up childhood he probably had and the alleged child abuse
19. I know I was right about that
20. After his death last week I was sad for his family, after all, no matter what you may of thought of him he was someones father, brother and son
21. I have no idea what the truth is about his personal life, and to be honest I really don't care.
22. I still love his music, and just downloaded "Off The Wall"
23. This is the first time I have ever owned this CD, and I think I like it better than "Thriller"
24. I do think he is one of the best artists the world will ever see
25. And also one of the most troubled

REST IN PEACE MJ

AND PEACE OUT DADS!!!

The bed trilogy, or..."you might smell something"

WHAT NOW?

My last two posts dealt with my my number 1a and number 1b favorite activities in bed, that being sex and sleep. I am a big fan of trilogies so I thought why not keep the theme going for one more post. But, instead of talking about my 3rd favorite bed activity (which would probably be watching tv...but who wants to read about that?) I will talk about my least favorite thing that happens in bed...flatulence! You know, the dutch oven, or as described in the Urban Dictionary by Lution Stackridge Esquire:

"Blowing hard ass wind under the covers several times and building up stench while your old lady is brushing her teeth and getting ready for bed, then when she gets into bed, pull the covers over her head and yell "Dutch Oven" and let her enjoy the stench of your ass gas for at least 30 seconds"

I don't know exactly what kind of marriage Mr. Stackridge has (pretty open minded I guess) but I don't take the Dutch Oven practice to that extreme. I won't say I abstain from the activity, I am probably as guilty as say, the person that sleeps next to me. But really, why is it that passing a little gas is so much worse in bed? I have smelt things under my sheets that would make teenage boys go crying to their mama. It's like our dog ate 3 day old baked beans, ninja'd her way under our sheets, took a huge growler, and got out Mission Impossible style right before I get into bed. If my better half decides to play this game it is usually proceeded by terms like "you might smell something" or "Don't come in here" or "I think I may have tooted". YA THINK??? What was your first clue, they giant mushroom cloud rising from the middle of our covers? I am much less subtle with my approach. The only warning my wife gets from me drilling farts into our mattress is the monstrous sounds coming from my innards about 2 seconds before the stench hits the air. I usually follow up these thunder claps with "ooops" or "what that me" or "Maggie, bad dog".

After one particularly loud and foul exchange, my wife, after the usual "come one" she starts in with "I may fart, but I never, EVER, do it in bed!" I had to turn on the lights to make sure I was sleeping with the right woman.

Farting in bed is something I think just becomes more acceptable the longer you are with someone. I think my wife and I have made and art form out of it, which give me a little cause for concern thinking about the next 50 or so years we will be together.

PEACE OUT DADS!!!

THE SEX POST

WHAT NOW?

For my post today I have decided to weigh in on the hot topic of sex. My number 1a favorite activity that happens in bed. In my previous post I talked about my number 1b favorite, sleep. But, come on...I'm a guy. Do you really think they are that close in my ranking system? Well, I guess that depends on the day. And today sex is my number one topic! Specifically my views of the sex lives of married parents. It seems like this is a topic that every parent blogger, married or not, will discuss at some point of their blogging lives. There is a very good reason why I have decided now was my time....cheap and easy readership. I mean really, who will pass up the chance to read a blog titled THE SEX POST? Whether you are getting some, not getting any, getting just enough to get by or getting more than Kid Rock...you are gonna read this post. I just have the awesome responsibility to do the subject justice. And since it is Fatherhood Friday over at Dad Blogs you could not ask for better timing. So why the all caps, very obvious headline? Well, while I keep a total anonymous profile, there are members of my immediate family that do read this blog, so Mom, how about you stop right here and skip over to one of your scrap booking sites. It will be better for both of us if you do.

OK, so what is my well thought out, very detailed, original view of the sex lives of married parents???

SEX IS GREAT!

Now, for those of you who are looking for a little more thought, a little more detail, a little more original (I'm talking to the women reading this post) please read on.

Sex is the fabric that holds a marriage together. Sure, there are many other things that are also important...most of which don't come to mind at the moment, but sex is the glue, the staples, the duct tape (we could go off on some strange fetish with that one, but I digress). When I was first dating my wife up to about, oh, say seven years ago before our first child was born, I was way more into quantity instead of quality. Don't get me wrong, I think every time my wife and I have had sex it's been great, but this is the male perspective so take that with a grain of salt. I wanted it all the time. It was like I was having my own personal contest with Wilt Chamberlain or something (although his count was with different women, but again, I digress). It took the birth of my two children and the amazing patience of my wife to teach me that quality is what counts when it comes to sex. I don't have to tell anybody with kids that sex gets put on the back burner every now and again. This is something that women understand instantly, but for men it takes a while, like years.

So how did I enter the temple of enlightenment? Did I take a seminar or consult a therapist or even better yet, read a great blog post like this one? I don't really know, but what I do know is that I am much happier with our sex life then I ever have been, and that includes when we did it like bunnies back in college. I don't know if it's age, the fact both of us is eating better and working out more, or just the inner peace I have, but you just can't touch the sex we have now. I can't even really find the proper words to describe it..but in the words of Def Leppard's classic Pour Some Sugar On Me....

"You got the peaches, I got the cream
Sweet to taste, saccharine
'Cos I'm hot, say what, sticky sweet
From my head, my head, to my feet

Do you take sugar? one lump or two?

Take a bottle, shake it up
Break the bubble, break it up

Pour some sugar on me"

PEACE OUT DADS!

Daddy needs sleep!

WHAT NOW?

I will go on record right now and say that sleep is my number 1b thing to do in bed. Number 1a is of course sex, duh....but sleep is so close that I can't even say it's number 2. I love sleep. I have been a great sleeper since early childhood, from the stories I hear. As a teen I could sleep until 1pm during the summer time and not think twice about it. My senior year in high school a small earthquake hit about 300 miles away from our home town and I slept right though it. I sleep hard, and thus don't need as many hours during the night to get some really good rest. I have already chronicled, in great detail, the routine my wife must go through every night just to get to sleep and stay that way. For me, there is no routine needed. I hit the sheets, close my eyes, and in a few short minuets I am off to dreamland. There was nothing that could really disturb my peaceful slumber until something came along about 7 1/2 years ago....kids. From the day my oldest was born until last night I can't go more than a couple of nights in a row without getting woken up by one of my lovely, darling children. They are both guilty but have gone about their crimes in completely different ways. My oldest slept in our bed from about birth until about 2ish. I'll give you all one guess as to who thought that was a good idea. After that she has pretty much stayed in her bed and is showing the signs of having my sleeping genes. We started things much different with my youngest. She stayed in her crib/bed pretty well until she reached about 3ish, then decided that our bed was way better than hers. She would make 1-2 late night trips to our room and want to get into bed with us. It didn't take her long to figure out that her request would most likely be granted by Mom who was too tired to argue. I wouldn't find out she was snuggled up between us until her foot found it's way into my back. Then I would wake up, carry her to her bed, and then get back to bed. Again, it does not take long for me to find my way back to sleeping, but I still don't like the interruption. This winter I thought we had her trained to stay in her bed the whole night. Instead of the usual nightly trip(s) it was just once a week, or once every 10 days. Then we take a trip and share a condo with my in-laws, meaning we all share a room. My oldest crashed on the couch while my youngest had her dreams come true and share the bed with my wife and I, every night, all night...for 10 straight days. Ever since we got back she is back to the nightly visits. She will take the occasional night off, which my wife and I call the GOOD NIGHTS, but for the most part she is there, waking me up. The other major problem is she keeps getting bigger, meaning I have to carry more and the chance of a slipped disk or twisted ankle increases with every late night trip. Last night was a two tripper plus a "daddy, can you come in the bathroom with me while I go potty" night. Needless to say I am sipping on the 64 ounce coffee mug while I write this post, googling what the long term affects are from giving your child cough medicine every night, whether they have a cough or not. Well, only 15 more hours until I get to sleep again, unless my wife wants to get some...she is always bugging me for it. She must know it has 1a status or something.


PEACE OUT DADS!!!

Open the flood gates

WHAT NOW?

I have found something that I truly excel at. If I could find a way to earn money by performing this act of mine I am sure we could retire millionaires. It's not something I enjoy, and I feel horrible each and every time it happens and if I could I would never do it again. But, I know it will happen, a lot, for the rest of my life. What is this tremendous yet horrible gift I possess? Making my children cry. I have become very good at it over the years. I don't even have to lay a hand on them, and sometimes I don't even need to say a word. But, it happens, it seems over, and over, and over again. Like I said before, I don't like doing it, and I feel horribly guilty each and every time it happens. I can say that it only happens when I have to discipline them, which in my mind is way too often. My wife does a decent job of it herself, but in baseball terms she is still working her way through the minor leagues while I have established all-star status. If only the would listen to the words that come out of my mouth, and do the things I ask. If they did then I would have to take my talents back to the dog, and she just runs away instead of crying her eyes out. My oldest is the easy target. I have a look that, when used right, can send her into a crying fit only a man hit in the nuts with a sock full of pennies could rival. My youngest is a tougher nut to crack, only because she will use any and all means of negotiation while I try to grind her down. Soon enough not even her amazing skill of not caring what I say will break down and I'll have her sobbing like a baby getting her first teeth. As they get older the crying will continue I'm sure, but the reasons for it will change. Not being able to jump on the table will be replaced by not getting the must have outfit, then not being alone in her room with a boy, then not dating until she is 35, then...well, you get the point. I have a feeling this is a vicious cycle that will continue for some time to come. Maybe I could find a way to harness their crying to create a new energy source that could free us from the power of the local utility company, or save up the tears they shed and use them to water our garden each summer. Then maybe I won't feel so bad the next time it happens, or the next, or the next.....

PEACE OUT DADS!!!

Love the break, miss the kids

WHAT NOW?

My wife and I were able to take a mini-vacation this past weekend sans kids. (and for those of you who read my last post you know we were in Boise, Idaho for the Ironman 70.3 triathlon...and yes, my wife finished it! Yeah for her!!!). They stayed with my folks and we got some very nice alone adult time. It had been a long time since we were able to get away like this. You can tell the second you start the drive that things are different.....silence. No questions, no fighting, no whining. It's like you have died and gone to road trip heaven. "B" and I were able to talk again, and not about who did what on the playground, or what new toy has to be bought now but about grown up items and grown up issues. We could curse again...man do I miss cursing when you just really need to use those words to describe something or express how you really feel. Oh, and there was no spelling of controversial topics or people we know..."did you hear that J-O-D-I took P-A-M to the doctor again...can you believe how she treats her C-H-I-L-D?" When I had to pull over I said "I gotta pee" instead of "I gotta use the potty." Our stay was just as nice. We ate when we wanted, we went to bed when we wanted and...best of all we slept in until we wanted. We were on our schedule and not at the mercy of people 30 years younger and a third our size. Friend of ours that made the trip as well did bring there kids...and guess how much we saw them??? Hardly at all, because we didn't want to be reminded of how the weekend could have been. We were free, we were alive...if you threw in some heavy drinking and "when ever we wanted" sex it would have been like when we were first married (my wife was there for a grueling athletic event, or those things might have happened ;). Then Sunday came. We packed our bags, checked out of our hotel, grabbed a bite to eat and hit the road. It was back to reality for us and good-bye to our past lives. Hmmmmmmm. It wasn't more than a couple miles down the road when my wife looked at me and said "I miss the kids." I kept my eyes on the road and replied "me too."

PEACE OUT DADS!!!

Where do you find your inspiration?

WHAT NOW?


I am writing this post from my very cozy bed in a downtown Boise hotel. That's right, I am away from home, with my wife, and without our kids. They are home with my folks and having a great time without Mom and Dad, so we can concentrate on the reason we are here and not worry about kids entertainment. That reason is the Boise 70.3 Ironman triathlon. My wife will join 1800 other athletes tomorrow in this grueling test of the human will. At 2pm she will get in the water for a 1.2 mile swim, after which she grabs her bike for a 56 mile ride and then tops it all off with a 13.1 mile run. Those distances by themselves are amazing, and putting them all together will test her as much mentally as it will physically. She is ready. She has put in the training, she has her equipment prepared and she feels good. If the weather holds up not only will she finish this amazing accomplishment, but I think she will kick it square in the ass. If someone would have told me back when we got married, 13 years ago this Sunday, that my soon to be bride would be competing in any triathlon, let alone a 70.3 Ironman, I would have probably had to postpone the wedding because I obviously don't know this woman as well as I thought. She is just an amazing person and I am reminded each and every day how lucky I am to have her as my wife. I think it is important that the person you marry not only is the love of your life, but also your best friend. I have both of those in my wife, plus one more think I never expected...my total inspiration. She is a incredible wife, mother, friend, daughter, sister, aunt, employee, the list can go on and on, and she is also a triathlete on top of all that. Before she started her own personal triathlete journey two plus years ago I was at my heaviest and had very little motivation to work out. Today, thanks to her, I am at my lowest weight since college, I'm in the best shape of my life, and I finished my first every marathon just last month. It is all because of her, and I'll never be able to tell her how grateful I am to her just for that. I know she will read this and say something like "you are way too nice", but I mean every single word of it. This Sunday marks 13 years of marriage and over 20 years of being together and there is no other way I would want to spend it then to spend my day tomorrow cheering her on and watching her accomplish her goal. NO FEAR, NO DOUBT, ALL IN, BALLS OUT. Go for it B, it's your day!





PEACE OUT DADS!

More random Monday thoughts

WHAT NOW?

I really have no central theme for my post today, but I do have many very random thoughts...here they are:

a) Last fall we had a bit of a mouse invasion...6 little buggers to be more precise. After spending a small fortune on traps and several hours of deep cleaning we took care of the problem, we thought. I did keep some traps in our mechanical room just in case. This is a room my kids are not supposed to go in, so when my oldest told me she went into the room my moment of unhappiness with her only lasted until she told me we caught another mouse....SON OF A BITCH!!!

b) After almost a week with this mouth torture device (also known as braces) on I am almost comfortable with it. Too bad a good friend of ours told me I look 14 with them on. Just bring on the acne and bad teenage mustache and I am back in 1984.

c) After spending a few minutes cleaning up in the basement, also known as the kids tornado zone, my oldest raced upstairs saying that she had to go to her room. I asked her why and she said she was in big trouble. I asked why she was in trouble and she replied "because I lost your mullet wig!" That is a sentence I never thought I would hear from a 7 year-old.

d) Every so often my dog lets loose a cough that sounds like an alien hatching from the chest of a human host...I'm just saying.

e) My blog may take some time off from Wednesday to Sunday of this week. I am taking my wife to Boise, Idaho so she can compete in the Ironman 70.3 triathlon. That's right, my wife is a bad ass. She is going to rip up that race during the day and have some beers to celebrate that night. God I love that woman.

PEACE OUT DADS!!!

It's gonna be a good summer

WHAT NOW?

So, on day two of the summer of fun I successfully took all four girls (my two and their two friends) to the public pool by myself and supervised the whole crew for 2 hours and not only did we have a great time but:

a. there were no meltdowns
b. there were no lost children
c. there were no drowning children
d. all bathroom breaks went quick and easy
e. I kept my sanity

Things went so good I took all the girls to Micky D's for soft serve ice cream dipped in chocolate (only the king of summer time treats, the root beer float, surpasses the soft serve cone). By the end of the day my wife was a nervous wreck just thinking of all the things that could have gone wrong, but they made it, alive, and still talking to each other.

Like I said, it's gonna be a good summer, at least until Monday.

PEACE OUT DADS!!!

What the hell have I done?!?

WHAT NOW?

I am in pain! Not like bump your knee on the desk pain, this is serious, torturous, driving me crazy pain. I am trying to figure out which is worse right now...the actual pain I am in, or the fact it was a decision I made that is causing this hellish nightmare I am currently living? I mean, what's wrong with having a few crooked teeth, or a bite that wasn't perfect? I mean, look at people from other countries like Great Britain. I don't think I've ever seen a good looking grill come out of that place. Why should it bother me, why do I care. I have already landed a hot looking wife so I've passed the point of really trying to impress anybody else. My teeth have always been very functional, even if they leave the most unusual bite marks. What in the world could have possessed me to put all this metal shit in my mouth that, I swear, must be make with only the sharpest of sharp parts. I think the inside of my mouth must look like a taco that has been thrown into a blender. I can now feel each of my teeth individually like they are part of a inside the head tug-of-war tournament. God, is that blood I'm drooling now??? Why did I throw my retainer away after my first round of this? Why does my wife keep looking at me and thinking "if he keeps making those disgusting noises and facial expressions I am going claw my eyes out!"

I got braces...yesterday, and I think the next 18 months to forever and day is going to suck! DAMN, THAT IS BLOOD.

PEACE OUT DADS!!!

That kid is gonna be a d-bag when he grows up!

WHAT NOW?

Two warnings before you read this post:

1. If you are offended by course language you should probably stop now, I feel a rant coming on.
2. If you think all small children are god's creatures and can do no wrong, you better also skip this one.

OK, let's get this party started. Today was my youngest daughters end of the school year picnic. This was a big deal for her because next year she starts kindergarten and thus ends our need to pay for any kind of childcare during the school year (can you say mini-raise!). So, like any good part-time-stay-at-home Dad I volunteer to go with the group and help out. As a general rule I try to stay away from these type of functions because a) I don't like most other little kids, strange for a parent I know...and b) I really don't like most of the other parents at this preschool. It would take a long post for me to really get into details about that, but let's just say they are not really my type of people, good or bad.

So, here I am at the annual "kids going crazy and teachers looking homicidal" picnic, trying to keep an eye on other kids while really only concerned with mine, and I notice one of her classmates acting like a...well, like a douche bag. He is the kind of kid you know will be a douche bag when he is a teenager, and a douche bag when he is a young adult, and more than likely a douche bag when he is older and having little douche bags of his own. It's not that hard to pick them out. I instantly want to pick this little shit up by the scruff of his neck and drop kick him into the nearby game of parachute lift going on a few feet away (do you remember that...getting all the kids around a parachute and having them flip it around like a bed sheet and then ducking underneath it and making a mushroom...I loved that game).

I take a deep breath and tell this little boy politely to please stop doing what he is doing and he shoots me a look like "Fuck you old man!" and then walks away. Why the hell do I volunteer for this torture. I stroll over to the picnic shelter for a little adult time and start a pleasant conversation with one of the many moms there helping (I am the only adult male there...great in a bar, not so hot at the preschool picnic) and then one of my least favorite parents strolls up and attempts to join in...who the hell is this space invader. Is she getting her rules of engagement from that little shit giving me the finger from the swing set? Frick and frack!

Other than that everyone had a lovely time and the picnic was a complete success...now I must drink myself into a coma!

PEACE OUT DADS!

But just how paranoid are you?

What Now?

The summer of fun starts in just two days for me and the girls and I think we have a schedule in place. Instead of paying crazy high daycare fees and not getting to see them nearly as much (like we have done the past several summers while I was not enjoying my part-time-stay-at-home status) we have a sweet deal with one of our better couple friends that have girls the same age as ours. We are going to split days watching all four. From an outsiders view point it might see like more work to watch four kids for half a day then it would be to watch two the whole day. Well, not only are these girls best of friends, they also play extremely well together. When we have the other girls over to play it could be hours before I hear my name being yelled from two floors away for help. On paper it looks like the perfect plan for the perfect summer of fun. There is one small hitch that my wife and I must get over...just how paranoid is the other couple when it comes to watching all the girls. Will they lock all doors of their home and set the home alarm to maximum volume? Will they tie each girl together with bungee cords when they do leave the house? Will they go the extra mile and use industrial strength duct tape when just buckling them in for cars rides won't be enough? Am I going a bit overboard, because you see these all seem like reasonable options at our house. ALL ABOARD THE CRAZY TRAIN!!! I am sure they will do great with our kids, especially after the 2-hour seminar we have planned for them tomorrow.

PEACE OUT DADS!