A few extra stories at bedtime

Tomorrow we drop the munchkins off at the home of the Absurdly Helpful Grandparents for a few nights while we do a little work around the house.

And by "work around the house" I mean: pick up everything we own and put it down in another house.

So tonight is the last night for the kids in this house, and the bittersweetness of that is not lost on us.

The house into which we are moving is the house that Wife grew up in. It's where she played Barbies and had tea parties. It's where she walked down the stairs to meet her prom dates. It's where she sat at the dinner table and stuffed our wedding invitations.

There are plenty of memories where we're going. Most of them are good. Some of them are sad.

In the new place, our kids will have a big fenced yard to play in and a circular driveway where they can ride their tricycles. They'll each have bedrooms with high ceilings and hardwood floors and multiple windows. They'll have a big, spooky basement to explore.

Our kids will love the new house. We all will.

But for at least another couple of days, this old house is home.

This is the place we brought Son when we left the hospital after he was born. This is where I sat with him in the September sun to help with his jaundice.

This is the house with the creaky step we always worried would wake him.

This is where Daughter hangs her backpack when she gets home from preschool, and where she twirls in her ballet slippers and leotard. This is where she learned to use the potty.

Just like in the new place, there are a lot of great memories in this house. That's why it's sad that tonight is their last night here.

So as much as we could, we let the kids be kids a little bit more tonight. We let them play a little longer in the tub. We read an extra story or two to them. We gave them an extra hug.

They soaked it all up. I wonder if they knew that Wife and I needed all that extra time and those extra hugs more than they did. Probably so.

It's easy to get bogged down in the sadness of these things. I remember how nervous we were before each of our children was born, because we just didn't know how things were going to be on the other side of the big event. We wanted so badly to hold on to how things were at that given moment.

But each time, the result was miraculous. And beautiful.

And the excitement and fullness we felt was overwhelming. This move will be the same way. I just know it.

All we have to do is survive the labor pains of the next few days...

Of course we get stuck with the insomniacs

I've heard a couple stories or seen pictures lately of children who fall asleep at various places throughout the house.

BooMama has posted some photos of her little son passed out in a few places, and a few months ago I saw some over at The Big Trade-Off.

Some friends of ours here have twin 3 year-olds that fall asleep in their high chairs at dinner.

So here's my question:

How do I get that feature added to our kids?

I'd love for our kids to do this sort of thing. Ours aren't even all that crazy about sleeping when it's actually time to sleep.

The only time we've caught a glimpse of this sort of behavior was on Christmas Eve, when Daughter curled up on the floor in the midst of all the present-opening and went to sleep.

Turns out she had a 104 degree fever at the time.

So, tell me - is this "sleeping anywhere" thing common?

A short sabbatical

I've been a little scarce around here lately. And I'm going to have to be scarce for a little while longer.

Here's a glimpse into why:

On Wednesday, a truck will show up at our house and some big guys will move all of our stuff less than a tenth of a mile up the street to our new house. Between now and then, there will be much packing of boxes, throwing out of trash, and other stuff like that.

A good rule of thumb is that when there are movers and cable guys and phone guys crawling all over your house and there are boxes to unpack, you don't want to be the tool that's sitting in the corner pecking on a laptop.

Another reason I've been scarce is that my company, in an effort to manage some inappropriate Internet use by two or three employees, installed software that blocks about 98% of the Internet for our 35 other employees.

So while I don't update this blog from work, I find myself spending my usual blogging time at night responding to my Yahoo mail and catching up on stuff I needed to do on the Internet during the day.

Good times.

So give me a few days to get moved and settled in. Then I'll jump back into this thing and et back on track.

Be good.

Nashville road trip

Wife and I hit the road (sans kids) for a jaunt to Nashville this past weekend. The trip was a huge success.

Special thanks are due to the world's most insanely helpful grandparents for keeping our monsters for the weekend. So thank you, world's most insanely helpful grandparents.

Now on with our regularly scheduled programming. Here are some thoughts:

On any road trip, it's nice to have a tasty beverage. If you're driving in the morning, I recommend McDonald's coffee. They've even started this crazy new service where they put the cream and sweetener into the coffee for you, if you're into that sort of thing. If you're driving in the afternoon, get a large sweet tea. You'll be glad you did.

Satellite radio makes long car trips a lot less monotonous. Unfortunately, sometimes you come across songs like Sean Kingston's Beautiful Girls that get stuck inside your head. And once those songs get inside your head, they never leave. Ever.

Wife brought the portable DVD player and watched a couple episodes of Friends. Brilliant idea. I was amazed to learn that the DVD player could play something other than Blues Clues or The Wiggles. To date, we haven't had the opportunity to use it for anything else.

I was able to play golf. I didn't play very well, but I ate two hot dogs on the course. I'd call that a decent day on the links.

Wife was able to shop. She bought some bath stuff at a place called Bath Junkie, where you make your own bath stuff by picking fragrances and colors and what-not.

Wife and some others threw an engagement party Saturday night for a dear friend of ours. The party was at a home in Fairvue Plantation. Someone please let the people at Fairvue Plantation know I will gladly become a spokesperson in exchange for ownership of a home there, because the place is pretty sweet.

Since I am an 80 year-old trapped in a much younger body, I was up at 5:15 each morning. Stupid Central time. Whose idea was that? Anyhow, I used the time to read Penelope Trunk's book Brazen Careerist. I enjoyed the book, and she writes a great blog by the same name.

Had lunch Sunday at Five Guys on the way home. So good.

I am too tired to string together any more thoughts right now. Business is getting busy. We're moving in a week. I have a presentation due in my International Business class. I should probably quit typing and do something a little more constructive. And by "do something a little more constructive" I mean: watch The Singing Bee.

100 things, cont'd

Well done, people. Keep 'em coming if you like. I'll add a few while I've got a moment.

62. I still get monthly royalties from all the Grit magazine sales I made when I was a kid
63. I don't dance
64. You won't sing
65. I just want to love you
66. But you want to wear my ring
67. There's nothing I can do
68. I only want to be with you
69. I pee a little bit when I laugh
70. I laugh a little bit when I pee
71. I used to be a TV weatherman
72. I watch Days of Our Lives
73. I had a burger for lunch today
74. I won $35 in a nickel slot machine called "Aunt Winny"
75. I actually have an Aunt Winnie
76. Barn owls freak me out
77. So do The Doodlebops
78. I haven't bought a new suit in two years
79. I should buy a couple new suits
80. I used to ride my bike to elementary school
81. I still remember the combination to my friend's bike lock: 6-3-6
82. I need to eat some vegetables
83. I'm an heir to the Ranch salad dressing empire
84. When I inherit the business, I'm launching a co-promotion with Starbucks
85. I think people will buy Ranch Lattes

100 things

I coast through life oblivious to much of what goes on around me. That explains how I missed the fact that a lot of bloggers use their 100th post as a chance to do their 100 Things About Me list.

A few months ago, William at Poop and Boogies had his readers write his 100 Things list for him. I thought that was a brilliant idea. And since Wife and I are headed to Nashville for the weekend, I thought you all could carry some of the load. So jump in with a comment and tell me something about me.

I don't really care if what you say is true or false, just keep it clean. The vast majority of you don't know me, so you will have to make stuff up. For those of you who do know me personally, don't put anything out there that would put the privacy of me or my family at risk.

The funnier the better. I'll get you started.

1. I was born in Tampa, Fla.
2. In high school, I helped build a church in a town named Halacho in Mexico.
3. Kielbasa makes everything better.
4. My business card is a tarot card.
5. I used to have a huge crush on Elizabeth Shue.
6. Wife and I were married when we were 23.
7. 23 seemed very old and mature at the time.
8. I have a great Wife.
9. I once had a door-to-door sales job.
10. That job was awful.
11. I'd play golf five times week if I could.
12. In elementary school, I was in a commercial with Vinny Testaverde.
13. My left foot is a size 10. My right foot is a 13.
14. My favorite movie is A Few Good Men.
15. I worked for a newspaper when I graduated from college.
16. I earned $8.50 an hour.
17. I thought $8.50 an hour was a boatload of money.
18. I'm scared of umbrellas.
19. I sit down to pee.
20. I have a full head of hair.
21. I wear a toupee anyway.
22. It looks fantastic.
23. I buy stuff from late-night infomercials.

See? Some true, some not true. Pretty fun, eh?

Now it's your turn. We'll be back in a couple of days.

Friday round-up

A few quick things:

I've told you before that I am a big walking ball of irony and hypocrisy. So it shouldn't come as a surprise to you that just weeks after writing to you about how awesome I am because I cut my own grass, I have - you guessed it - hired a lawn service.

With the house on the market and us traveling some this summer, it was the only way I could be sure the yard would look respectable on a consistent basis. And I really have to hand it to them, because the yard looks great. I mean, so great these guys should do this for a living.

I also realized what a colossal time commitment all my yard work is. This was brought squarely to my attention when the landscaper's truck drove off 25 minutes after it arrived. That's about 2 hours and 35 minutes quicker than I can get it all done.

I love the comments on the picture of my little dude. I took that picture during our recent trip to Sesame Place. What the picture doesn't show is Daughter standing a few paces in front of Son, with her head about to explode because she was next in line to meet Zoe.

I chose not to photograph her, because it would be just my luck that, at just the moment I snapped the picture, the excitement would overwhelm her and her head would indeed explode. And if you've seen one picture of a preschooler's head exploding from excitement, you've seen them all.

That's it for now. Thank you, as always, for reading.

Is he going to the movies later?

Because he's already picking his seat.

Help me with a caption for this photo of our little man.

Ready? Go!

The rare Full Moon Fish

This is what we get for sending our little girl to camp with the Baptists.

Daughter's best friend is the firstborn of one of Wife's best friends. They go to the big Baptist church downtown. The church is bursting at the seams with young families and has a lot of programs for kids.

In addition to VBS, they offered a series of day camps for kids of all ages. Wife and her friend enrolled the girls in two of the week-long day camps.

I forget what the theme of the first week's camp was, but it was something like space or science or acupuncture or phlebotomy. Like I said, I'm a little fuzzy on the details.

The girls had a rockin' good time the first week, so we were all excited about the second camp, which was all about water and sea life.

Daughter came home the first day with a seashell that she decorated with paint. Another day they took the kids outside to play in baby pools and a sprinkler.

Now, I'm relatively familiar with the water and with sea life. I grew up on the water in Florida and spent a fair amount of time fishing and what-not. I even took marine biology as an elective in high school and during elementary school I dissected a shark.

All of which will help you understand my confusion when Daughter came home from the last day of her water and sea life day camp obsessed with showing everyone her bottom.

That wasn't part of the curriculum when I was in school. High school would have been a lot different for me if it had been.

I wasn't around to witness Daughter's newfound hobby, but Wife tells me she spent most of the evening running from Son to Nana and back to Wife saying, "Want to see my bunny bottom?"

At which point she would, to borrow some phrasing from the Dave Matthews Band, hike up her skirt a little more and show the world to them. And then she'd laugh and go back to playing.

I'm not sure what those Baptists are teaching the kids these days, but that's certainly not how things are done at our big Presbyterian church.

Nights with newborns

For those of you out there with newborns in the house (or on the way) here's a system Wife and I devised that made a huge improvement for us.

Our typical night time routine with both children was as follows:

1. Nurse and burp baby
   
2. Change diaper and swaddle
3. Rock the baby or pace the floor with baby until baby sleeps
   
4. Place sleeping baby in crib
   
5. Walk downstairs and go to bed

An hour after performing this routine, this is what would happen:

1. Baby makes a snorting noise
2. Baby begins to wail
3. Wife and I lay in bed silently, praying the baby will go back to sleep
4. I wait to see if Wife is going to bound out of bed
5. Wife waits to see if I'm going to get out of bed
6. I make a mental list of all the reasons I deserve a good night's sleep
7. Wife makes a mental list of all the reasons she deserves a good night's sleep
8. Baby continues to wail
9. We both get up and tend to the baby
10. Neither of us gets a decent night's sleep
    

And for some reason, that routine wasn't working for us. Imagine that.

This was especially frustrating after we dropped his middle-of-the-night nursing session, since there was finally potential for Wife and I to both get a solid night of winks.

In a truly special moment of clarity, we decided to try something new. We decided to alternate "on call" nights.

I would get a full night's sleep one night while she tended to the baby every time he cried. The next night, she would sleep uninterrupted while I tended to the baby.

Here's why this plan works:

It eliminates uncertainty - Either you're getting up or you're sleeping. It leaves no confusion about who "deserves" to sleep.

It lessens confusion - Our babies had delicate tummies and struggled with gas pains. We used a boatload fair amount of Mylicon drops to settle their achy bellies. When you're the parent on duty for the night, you own the kid's treatment plan, so there's no risk of accidentally over-medicating your child.

It strengthens your bond - As frustrating as being up in the middle of the night sometimes was, I can still picture my Son's face in his darkened room as we paced and rocked. I wouldn't trade anything for the time we spent together.

It removes the hopelessness - The most discouraging part of having a newborn is feeling like the sleepless nights are never going to end. You yearn for sleep. Alternating "on call" nights brings hope back into the equation by offering a good night's sleep as the next day's reward for your mid-night efforts.

We made a rule that if I got to the end of my rope on my night on call, I could wake up the Wife for help. And vice-versa. We only had to play that card a time or two.

If your newborn night time routine is wearing you down, try this out. It sure worked for us!

More great journalism

You'll remember from my previous post about the 7:30 Scare that I get a kick out of the programming during the 7:30 - 8:00 a.m. portion of the Today show.

Here are a couple more 7:30 Scares since my previous post:

"And coming up...Vitamins: why a pill a day might be too much!"

and

"If you're going on vacation, you're probably thinking about the place you're going, not the place you're leaving."

In the latter story, they told us about how our homes will almost certainly be burgled if we dare to leave them for a split second, much less an entire week. Apparently our only hope of not having our home ransacked while we're on vacation is to employ a team of Green Berets and rabid German shepherds to guard the place. Or to buy something from a company which, like the Today show, is owned by GE.

And in another example of journalism at its finest, our local news anchor told us how a man was arrested on assault charges after getting into a fight "with another guy."

I'm not 100% certain, but I think Woodward and Bernstein broke the Watergate story in the Washington Post as involving Richard Nixon "and another guy."

Don't run off, Mr. Local News Anchor. The Pulitzer committee could be calling any time!

Why is it...

...that when I'm pulling my car into a parking space, I'll scoot my hind-end over in the car seat if I think I'm too close to a neighboring car?

Now I know why it's called tough love

My Daughter will discover the cure for cancer, fix our nation's health care issues, make millions managing a hedge fund and be the first female Supreme Court justice.

Or she will kill me in my sleep and live out her life behind bars.

Similarly, I am either growing more skilled at teaching my kids life lessons with tough love - or - I'm a huge jerk who shouldn't be allowed to have kids.

Both are a little too close to call tonight.

Wife is at her sewing class tonight, so it was my job to get the kitchen cleaned up and put the kiddos in bed. Normally not a big deal, since Son has a pretty low-maintenance bedtime routine and since I've grown accustomed to the elaborate production known as Daughter's Bedtime.

Really the biggest challenge to doing bedtime solo is getting them both physically up the stairs, because if you use the words "upstairs" or "bed" in our house, the kids either head for the hills or do the thing where they scream and go limp and get three times heavier than normal.

Tonight was par for the course. I snapped Son up and started to carry him upstairs and told Daughter, "You need to come upstairs right now."

I brushed Son's teeth and as I carried him to his room, I called from the top of the stairs, "Daughter, you need to come upstairs right now. If you don't come upstairs, you won't have any stories tonight."

I read some stories to Son and put him in his crib for the night. Then I headed downstairs to begin the showdown with the Little Miss.

She was on the couch. Her eyes were red from crying.

"Daddy, I don't want to go upstairs," she whimpered.

I scooped her up and sat down on the couch for a cuddle.

"I know," I said. I committed to the cuddle for a few extra moments so that she would know I wasn't angry with her.

"It's time to go up to bed," I said and lugged her upstairs.

She whined about brushing her teeth and declined the chance to sit on the potty one more time before bed. Then she ran to her room and climbed up in her bed, presumably preparing herself for a batch of stories.

"Now Daughter, do you know what we're going to do tonight?" I asked.

"What?" she said.

"Tonight we're going to learn a lesson. And here's the lesson: When I ask you to do something, I need you to do it. Especially when I ask you to come to me. It's very important that you come to me when I call you."

"Okay," she whispered.

"Here's how we're going to learn this lesson tonight. I told you that if you didn't come upstairs when I asked, you wouldn't get any stories tonight. You didn't do as I asked. There won't be any stories tonight," I told her.

And with that, she came unglued. The screaming. The crying. The kicking.

I scooped her up again into a big Daddy cuddle and let her cry for another minute or so. Then I asked her to stop crying and listen to me.

I made a point to not raise my voice or communicate anger to her in any way. I talked in a calm, matter-of-fact voice.

"I need you to know two things, Daughter. First, I'm not mad at you. Second, I love you."

She sniffled a bit.

Then I asked her, "Am I mad at you?"

She answered no. I asked her two more times just to be sure.

And I asked her, "Do I love you?"

She answered yes. I asked her two more times just to be sure.

Then I got up to leave and she fell apart again. More of the screaming. The crying. The kicking.

I came downstairs and picked up their Little People from the rug in the den and let her scream out some energy. After about 10 minutes had passed, she was just screaming, "Daddy! Daddy! I want my Daddy!"

The Dad of Steel couldn't resist that, so I went back up and took her a Kleenex to wipe her eyes and nose.

"Daddy, I don't want to go to bed," she said.

"I know," I said. "Would you feel better about bedtime if we said our prayers?"

She said yes, so we prayed together.

Then I left her room and came down here to type. I checked the monitor a moment ago and she's sound asleep. Sweet little thing.

I always second-guess myself in those tough love situations. I always wonder if I'm doing the right thing and helping her build character or if I'm just being a big stubborn jake-arse.

I suppose I won't know for a long, long time. That kind of uncertainty is hard to deal with.

That may be part of why it's called "tough love."

Summer playlist

In early 2006 I discovered the joys of iTunes. (I'm an early adopter of new technologies. Remind me to tell you about my new pair of velcro shoes. No laces!)

A hundred or so downloads later, I still enjoy rooting around for new music. And old music I want to hear again. Anyhow, here's what I'm listening to these days:

In a Big Country by Big Country
Captures everything there is no love about 80s music - particularly the one-hit wonder element.

DND by Semisonic
I was introduced to Semisonic when Closing Time was popular. This is a nice mellow tune.

Bubbly by Colbie Caillat
The 30-second clip on iTunes was impressive. The rest of the song doesn't disappoint, as long as you're okay with semi-cheesiness.

Stolen by Dashboard Confessional
Still loving this after listening to it a ridiculous amount of times this summer.

Colorful by Rocco DeLuca and The Burden
Heard this on the radio one morning and bought the song when I got home that night. You should have this, too. I think you'll like.

Undeniable by Mat Kearney
Pretty fly for a white guy.

Umbrella by Rihanna
I've mentioned before that I, at times, have the musical taste of a middle school girl. Which wouldn't be strange if I were anything other than a tired old man. And by "tired old man" I mean a father of two in my early 30s. Just listen to this song a few times and see if it doesn't get stuck in your head, too.

Summer Love by Justin Timberlake
See note above about my juvenile musical taste. I'm also a sucker for summer songs, which is why I love Stolen, Summer Skin by Death Cab for Cutie, and that "She's My Summertime Girlfriend" from an Old Navy commercial last year.

London Bridge by Fergie
Who knows. But here's a funny story. I had this song on a disc that was in my car a few months ago when Wife skipped town and left me with Son for the weekend. The version I downloaded is the explicit version, and at the beginning of the song, for no apparent reason, you hear some guys shouting "Oh Sh!t". It's artistic, I guess.

Anyway, when my little 19 month-old heard those shouts, he cracked up. So naturally, I played the song for him every time we got in the car that weekend.

And that, ladies and gents, is reason #419 that I Am Not Grown Up Enough To Have Kids.

A Murder of One by Counting Crows
I bought this album (August and Everything After) the summer before my freshman year of college. In fact, I bought it to listen to on the way home from freshman orientation, when I met the Wife. This song is hidden way at the end of the album, but I think it's one of the best songs on there.

I'll Take You Back by Jeremy Camp
This guy is good. This song got me on the way to work one morning almost two years ago.

I was on my way to work at a job I wasn't happy in, with a new baby in the oven, about to move from one house to another. In short, it was a season in my life where I was feeling overwhelmed. I had heard the song before and liked it, so I turned the volume up a bit when it came on. When the song got to the line where he says, "I'll take all I can/And lay it down before/The throne of endless grace/That radiates what's true" I got chills and my eyes watered up.

I had an overwhelming sense of peace. You know what I'm talking about.

And now, since I am a big walking ball of irony and hypocrisy, check out the juxtaposition of this next song with the one I just mentioned.

Crazy Women by Jupiter Coyote
If you ever entertained the thought of going to a little college in the South in the mid 1990s, but decided instead to go to some big fancy book-learnin' college up North, let me tell you how to transport yourself back in time to see what you missed.

Drink eight beers. In an hour.

Spill four beers on the floor. Fill the house with cigarette smoke and pack random people in from wall to wall.

Turn off nearly every light. Then put this song on as loud as you can.

Drink two more beers while the song is playing.

That is college in the South in the mid 90s.

LDN by Lily Allen
Just catchy. Idiotic song but so...darn...catchy.

So there it is. That's what I'm listening to this summer. What's burning up your iPod?

The housing slump hits our little market

Thanks to everyone who responded to this post with their own stories about selling a house.

We had our first showings Sunday night and Monday night. In all, three families have been through our house.

And no contract yet. Talk about a slow housing market.

I'm kidding. I know it takes time.

The funny thing is, we've moved so much of our junk to storage and have spiffed this place up so well that we're walking around thinking, "This house is really nice. We really love it here. Why are we moving again?"

Yesterday I called and booked the movers. This will be our first "grownup" move, meaning someone else is coming to lug our goofy amounts of stuff. Our previous moves have been handled by me and a few of my buddies with large trucks.

The date we've set for the move is probably a little too aggressive, but we have out-of-town travel commitments later in the summer which make the date we've chosen the only realistic option.

The Wife has been packing like a wild woman. You know the "nesting" instinct they say women get when they're pregnant? She's got a mad case of reverse nesting, so every night when I get home from work, there are entire rooms loaded into boxes and ready for me to cart off to storage.

She's a good one.

The realtor hasn't told us about any more showings on the horizon, but judging by how convenient the previous three have been, I'd say we're due for one right in the middle of nap time or dinner time. That's just how it works.

Philadelphia Road Trip, Part Two

More blather from our recent road trip:

My brother took us to the Ikea near their house. And it was good. Most of the stuff was a little more sleek and urban than you see around here, but we found some pieces that fit our style. Among the great finds was a kitchen table with six chairs. We didn't buy it, but I think when we do we'll get out with it for under $500. Not bad.

Probably the most refreshing part was that the store's employees seemed to enjoy their jobs. And that was true all the way down to the guy who spooned up my lunch of Swedish meatballs in the cafeteria. It was actually strange to be in a retail environment where the people don't hate you.

Uncle B also tagged along on our trip to Sesame Place, the Sesame Street theme park outside Philadelphia. This was out first theme park foray with the little ones, and we absolutely could not have done it without my big bro's assistance. Thanks, Uncle B!

The "check engine" light on the Odyssey came on during the drive back from Sesame Place, telling us the car was in desperate need of an oil change. Bro and I ventured out at 8 a.m. the next day to the closest service place. We called to check on it around 10:30 and they hadn't even touched it. We went and picked it up and ran our errands.

Apparently last Tuesday was Get Your Car Serviced Day in the state of Pennsylvania because we had fits trying to find a place to get an oil change.

Now, I don't think of myself as speaking with a Southern accent. But when I walked into the first potential oil change place, I said, "I just need an oil change."

From those six little words, the service dude must have been able to tell I wasn't from around there, because he responded with, "We're too busy. We can't work on it until Thursday. When are you heading back down South?"

So apparently I do speak with an accent.

We discovered the hot, black nectar that is known as Dunkin Donuts coffee. The blueberry donuts weren't bad either.

My brother's Tivo is loaded with goodness. We spent a few hours watching a show called Kenny vs. Spenny, which was absolutely hilarious.

Son and Daughter slept in the same room for the first time on this trip. The first night, we kept hearing the pitter-patter of small feet coming from their room. Every time Son would lay down in the pack-and-play to sleep, she would spring out of bed and run over to check on him. The commotion she caused each time would wake him up, pushing their collective bedtime back to around 10 p.m.

Son tried to get his revenge the next night. We heard chatter coming through the monitor long after we put them in bed. Wife went up to check on them and found Son standing up in the pack-and-play banging a paci on the edge and shouting for Daughter. Despite the drama, Daughter was sound asleep in the bed.

Okay, enough typing for tonight.

Wardrobe brought to you by Hee-Haw

Over the past few weeks, I've spotted a few clues that make me think my kids are going to grow up into fine Southern ladies and gentlemen.

The first clue was when I decked the little man out in madras pants and a white polo for church one Sunday. He nailed it.

The second clue came when we went to our favorite cafeteria for dinner about a week ago.

And yes, I realize how weird the phrase "favorite cafeteria" sounds.

Anyhow, while we were there, the little guy helped himself to about half of Wife's portion of fried okra.

I think a single tear of joy trickled down Wife's face as she watched him eat the okra.

Tonight I caught a clue that makes me think this stuff may have gotten out of hand.

Wife was laying out clothes for Daughter for tomorrow. The little lady starts day camp at a friend's church, so we were going to pull out some good play clothes.

"What would you like to wear tomorrow?" Wife asked Daughter.

"Overalls and no shirt," was Daughter's reply.

I've caught a case of the OCD

I think in my old age I'm getting all Howard Hughes about germs. This was brought to my attention on Thursday, when I stopped in to get a haircut.

The girl cutting my hair had on flip-flops. I don't have a problem with flip-flops. I certainly don't expect the 19 year-old giving me a $9 haircut (yes, only the best for me) to be sporting Manolo Blahniks.

But when you wear flip-flops while cutting hair it means all the hair falls down on your feet and gets between your toes. And that gives me the willies.

Clippings of other people's hair. Between your toes. Yikes.

All this reminds me of another important lesson about flip-flops that I learned the hard way: Don't wear flip-flops when scooping cat litter.

Anyhow, here are a few other reasons I think I may be getting a little too obsessive about germs:

• Whenever possible, I open doors with my elbows rather than my hands
• I sanitize my hands after handling cash
• I wear shoes around the house at all times
• I have rows and rows of Mason jars full of my own urine in my closet

What do you think? Have I completely lost it?

Problems with TV for kids

Wife and I got a kick out of this post over at Frog and Toad Are Still Friends. After the mind-bottling volume of movies the kiddos watched on our road trip, this was very timely.

There are plenty of great comments that go with the post, so be sure to read those too.

To my satellite radio provider

Dear XM Satellite Radio:

In my never-ending attempt to make the world a more efficient and less confusing place, I humbly offer the following recommendation.

You can fold channels 20, 26 and 30 into one new channel called "Daughtry." This would require minimal effort on your part, since those channels already seem to be incapable of playing anything else.

Thank you for your consideration.

Most sincerely,
MyBestInvest

Philadelphia Road Trip, Part One

I'm a master of creative post titles, eh?

A couple weeks ago we nailed down details for a planned road trip to see my brother and sister-in-law in Philadelphia.

We had a great trip. Rather than spooning out the highlights in narrative form, I'm going to just jot down some stuff in stream of consciousness format. Here goes:

2:30 p.m. might be the wrong time to start a 9-hour car trip with two small kids.

Political corruption must have been alive and well around the time they decided how I-81 was going to run through Virginia. There's simply no other way to explain the fact that you never get closer than 80 miles to anything resembling a metro area while you're on that road.

7:00 p.m. might be the wrong time to try to get a table at the Cracker Barrel in Harrisonburg, Va. on a Saturday night.

7:05 p.m. is the right time to get a table at the Waffle House across the street from the Cracker Barrel in Harrisonburg, Va.

Daughter dropped her menu on the floor under our booth at the Waffle House. I had my doubts about the cleanliness of the menu to begin with. But then she scrambled under the booth to get it. So, for a brief time on Saturday night, my child was sitting on the floor under a booth in a Waffle House.

Plaza Hotel in Hagerstown, Maryland is not affiliated the The Plaza hotel in New York City. But for $99 we got a large room at the quiet end of the hall. The kids got to spend their first night in a hotel, and they went nuts. They loved it. And the Wife and I loved it too, since we all slept in one room.

Finding the Pennsylvania Turnpike outside of Harrisburg can be a little tricky. We missed it the first time, so we shot north and west of Harrisburg and must have been closing in on Hershey, Pa. I know this because my kids were taunted by what seemed to be increasingly frequent billboards for Hershey Park.

Having a minivan means we can bring Daughter's little potty on long trips and set up a personal restroom for her in the back of the car. There's just no way to explain how much easier that makes things.

Have you heard of these guys The Wiggles? Have you heard of them for three hours of a 9-hour car trip?

So that's a good start to our trip. In our next installment, I'll tell you about Sesame Street mecca, furniture shopping with the kids, and how to spot a hillbilly in five words or less.

Until then...

Off the road...finally

Wow.

Eight and a half hours in the car is a long time. It's especially long when it's accompanied by The Wiggles and Clifford - over and over and over and over and over and over and over.

We had a great trip to see my brother and sister-in-law. More details to follow once my brain congeals.