Category Archives: joe

A Conversation about Being Warned

March 7, 2010 by Joe

The scene: Sarah is at the kitchen counter, preparing her dinner plate. In a moment, she will join Tyler and I at the table, where we will all enjoy a delicious meal of homemade tacos.

Sarah: So, Tyler tried to pull one over on me today.

Me: (unsurprised) Yeah?

Sarah: Yep. Apparently, he thought he could distract me from brushing his teeth by telling me he had to use the potty.

I am completely nonplussed at this attempt on his part. On a previous occasion, I told Tyler that it was “time to take a shower with daddy.” He, quite adamantly, told me that he did not agree. As a final Hail Mary, before I physically picked him up to carry him into the shower with me, he started saying “teeth, teeth, teeth,” thinking I’d forget about the shower and brush his teeth instead.

Sarah: (continuing) So I called his bluff and put him on the potty.

Me: (snickering) I bet he was like, ‘CRAP.’

Tyler: Crap, crap crap crap crap. Crap crap crap.

Me: (looking at Sarah with an I-know-I-just-messed-up expression) *blink*

Sarah: (with the I-told-you-so tone that women are masters of) I’ve warned you about that, Joe.

Tyler: Crap crap.

The scene: Tyler and Sarah are lying on the floor, playing with trains and train tracks. I’m lying on the floor playing with cars. Tyler lets out one of the juiciest sounding farts we’ve ever heard from him.

Me: Holy cow, Tyler! Did you just toot?

Sarah: It was more of a shart, doncha think?

Me: Oh, please don’t teach him words like that, babe.

Tyler: Shart.

*sigh*

4 Comments

Also filed under: Sarah, Tyler, conversations

The Inner Voice

February 22, 2010 by Joe

I sometimes wonder just how many people have an inner voice that talks to them. All of us? I have one, and I hope I’m not alone. In my younger years, the voice was very feeble and timid. When I became upset with a situation, the voice would whisper, “umm, Joe? Hey, uhh, maybe we should calm down for a second?” Of course, this was akin to spitting into a volcano to lower the temperature of the lava.

Older (sigh) and wiser (ha!) now, I embrace the inner voice. He guides me though some difficult situations and keeps a sense of levelness about. It helps that the inner voice knows how to talk to me and make me listen. When I find anger trying to take hold and tunnel vision setting in, he kicks me off the road that I’m cruising along. “Joe! Dude, you need to chill the f*** out, like right now!”

I guess it’s like any long-term relationship. Eventually you just get tired of the other person’s shit and tell them whatever’s on your mind. Inner voice gets tired of my shit a lot.

I’ve been telling myself, every single day, that I really need to write some blogs. And it wasn’t just a need; I want to write some blogs. But it seemed (seems) that there just weren’t (aren’t) any words. Sure, I have a lot of things that I want to write about, but when I put my fingers on the keyboard, they just sit there.

And I’m pretty sure I know why.

I do most of my writing when I’m feeling depressed. Even when I’m writing about fond memories or something funny that happened, I’m usually at least mildly depressed about life. Fortunately for me, and unfortunately for my desire to blog, I’ve been feeling pretty darned good lately. I’ve undertaken a really intense workout program called P90x, which I believe to be the culprit. I certainly don’t know the science behind it, but what I do know is I have some sort of chemical imbalance that results in me going through phases of strong depression. What else I know is that, since I’ve started working out consistently, I’ve felt better than I have in years.

I’m not saying that I’ve been unhappy at home or with Sarah or Tyler or work. I’m not saying that at all, so I hope my general message doesn’t get misconstrued. I’m just saying… well, that’s the problem: I don’t know how to say it. Depression’s a bitch like that.

Well, ol’ inner voice over there (I nod my head slightly to the right) got tired of hearing me lament on my lack of blogging. As I read the latest news on whichever news site I was perusing this very morning, I found myself pausing for a moment to think that I really needed to —

Oh you big baby! Write then! Write something, anything! Just quit complaining.

Like so many other times, inner voice is right. I’m not a world renowned novelist with a case of writer’s block just three books into his seven book contract. I’m some guy, in some small town, that loves sharing his life with all of you. So, here I am, writing something, anything.

Crap! I intended to write about Tyler’s two missing fingers, but this post went left when it should have gone right. I sometimes feel like a need a GPS for life. Anyway, that will be my next post, I promise. Unless I don’t complete it before Wordless Wednesday. Coming soon: The Case of the Missing Fingers.

6 Comments

Also filed under: nondad

Wordless Wednesday v. Happy Surprised

February 3, 2010 by Joe

7 Comments

Also filed under: Tyler, wordless wednesday

On Being Absent

January 22, 2010 by Joe

I’m committing a blogger faux paus here by explaining my absence. I guess it isn’t really a faux paus, but maybe more of a pet peeve of mine. I don’t need to visit a blog to see a post that says “I know I haven’t been around, but I promise to post something soon.” That’s akin to calling someone to tell them you have to tell them something and will call back later to do so.

But here I am, getting ready to explain why my blog has fallen dormant for a bit (and why my unread blogs are in the triple digits right now). So, either skip this post, or just buckle in for a couple paragraphs.

I’ve already mentioned that I had some time off work for the holidays. I had a great couple weeks, and really wanted to enjoy the time I had with my family. I didn’t want to sit at the computer and type up a post when I would rather be with the very subject of my blog along with my dear wife. So I didn’t blog.

I snuck a couple posts in after the holidays, but then I was off to sunny Phoenix for a week (work related). I see my co-workers 2 to 4 times a year, and this was one of those times. With meetings, dinners, activities, a super-awesome sixty minute massage, and sleep, the days were packed full. So I didn’t blog.

I’m like 90% of the U.S. population (that’s a statistic I made up to support this post) in that I’ve made a New Year’s resolution to get in shape. So, this past Monday, I started the P90X program. If you don’t know what it is, Google it. What I will say is that it is the most intense workout I’ve ever experienced. I’ve never been in so much pain over my whole body. To accommodate the 75 to 90 minute routines, I’ve had to sacrifice some of my “computer time” in favor of “exercise time”. I’ve also gone to bed a bit earlier this week, because I’ve been dog tired come the end of the day. So, I didn’t blog.

It also turns out that when one doesn’t blog for a while, it’s difficult to get back into the flow of doing so. I love this blog. I love sharing with all of you. It’s a great release for me, and I thoroughly enjoy going through and reading some of my previous entries. I have a terrible memory, so reading my past posts truly allows me to relive the moments. I sometimes wonder if somebody else has the password to my site and rewrites my posts because the author of some of these entries is damn talented! But having, what a consider to be, too long of an absence, my creativity has began hibernating. And waking that beast is a bitch, so I didn’t blog.

But I’ve missed blogging. I’ve missed your blogs. I’m on day 5 of the P90X and can finally move a little bit, so I wanted to get my blog juices flowing. What better way to do that than to write a post explaining where I’ve been?

So, I’m blogging.

8 Comments

Also filed under: blogging, nondad

Hi

January 8, 2010 by Joe

I love my son. I swear I do. Every day, I tell myself that I could not possibly love him more than I do at that particular moment. Then the next day, I realize that I love him more than I did the day before.

But he can really annoy the hell out of me sometimes.

Over the holidays, I was off work for two weeks. Sarah and I alternated sleeping in and waking up with Tyler. We spent entire days just lounging around, playing, and relaxing. Interspersed with these times of zen were periods of chaos, which is to be expected during any holiday season. Me being at home gave Sarah the opportunity to have a bit of a break from full-time, non-stop parenting. A break that she needed and deserved. A bit to her chagrin, Tyler also thoroughly enjoyed my sudden availability. On a few occasions that Sarah felt the overwhelming desire to give Tyler a hug, or read him a book, he shunned her in favor of me. So, while I know that she loved having me around, the flash of green that sparked in her eyes a few times did not go unnoticed. Quite the contrary, because I can relate.

My return to work Monday was an adjustment for all of us. Although I talked at length with Tyler about it on Sunday, telling him that I had a great time but that I had to back to work the next day, and although he said “yeah” at all the appropriate moments, signaling that we were on the same page, I get the impression that my eighteen month old little man didn’t fully grasp what I was conveying to him. Maybe I should have just said “Daddy work morrow byebye luh-loo.”

It also didn’t help that, due to both work and treacherous roads/weather conditions, I had to spend a night away from home on my first week back. Tyler hadn’t seen me in forty-five hours after having me at his disposal for two weeks. That’s like 8 months of separation, in toddler-years, right?

When I got home – after six hours of white-knuckled driving, mind you – and had given Tyler my undivided attention for the better part of ninety minutes, I made the mistake of thinking I could talk to my wife for a moment or two. Tyler turned his attention to driving his little police car on his road-rug, so I started to tell “HI” Sarah about “HI” my “HI” long day “HI” when Tyler decided that “HI” he absolutely HAD to “HI” talk to me “HI” again. I tried to “HI” talk over him “HI” and continue my “HI” conversation with “HI” Sarah when I finally “HI” had to “HI” bend to Tyler’s will.

“Hi, Tyler. How are you?”

“Ashdin.”

“Oh, did your truck get into an accident?”

“Yeah! Figgst.” He jumped up and ran to his toybox, returning with a tiny toy wrench.

“Are you going to fix it? Yes, good job, Tyler. You are fixing the truck.”

“Yeah,” he said as he pretended to tighten a bolt on the tire. When he finished, he went back to playing. Me, unable to be the better man, unable to just let things go and attempt to finish my conversation with Sarah, waited until he was well into playing with his car. Then, I decided to poke the sleeping bear.

“HI HI HI HI HI HI HI HI,” I said in my best try-to-be-as-annoying-to-Tyler-as-he-was-to-me voice. It worked, too. He turned to look at me.

“HI,” I said again.

Tyler replied flatly, without even a hint of humor, “Done.”

Why you little shit, I thought. Before I could even make an attempt at a reply, Sarah broke into laughter. I joined her. It was good to be home.

9 Comments

Also filed under: Bad parenting, Sarah, Tyler, conversations, family, laughing

Imitation and flattery

December 8, 2009 by Joe

The scene: We’re all in the living room. Delilah is resting on her bed. Sarah, Tyler, and myself are playing with stacking blocks and farm animal toys. Tyler stands up, walks to Sarah, and gives her a hug. My heart melts at this random, unprovoked showing of love and affection.

“Dada,” Tyler says as he turns to face me.

“Yeah buddy?” My voice drips with enthusiasm, for I know that one of those delicious hugs is heading my way next. Tyler lifts his hand and points into the dining room.

“Out.”

*blink*

“Out?! You can’t kick me out. This is my house, not yours.”

Unfazed, Tyler repeats his simple, and ludicrous, command. “Out.”

In a happy, going-along-with-the-gag tone, I reply. “Fine, I’m outta here!” I stand up and storm from the room. Secretly ~~(and irrationally)~~, I’m crushed.

It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out how he learned this. Tyler’s dear old dad, yours truly, says the same thing just about every night at the dinner table, including the pointing.

“Delilah, out.”

We have a “one strike and you’re out” system when we’re eating. The moment Delilah goes scavenging under the table, we send her into the other room. Sometimes we don’t notice until we hear a slurping sound as she tries to lick a piece of cheese off the floor. Or when we try to figure out why Tyler has his hand under the table and is giggling hysterically (those two are gonna be trouble). Or, most recently, when Tyler narcs her out himself by shouting “LILAA!” (that’s my boy) when she starts nuzzling and snorting around the general vicinity of Tyler’s highchair.

Delilah is a smart dog. A damn smart – and stupid – dog, in fact. When I, or Sarah, tell her “out,” she knows that the jig is up and it’s time to get out of town so that she may live to fight another day. We really don’t even need to say the word though. Most times, I can just point to the doorway and she will make her (sulky) exit. She can sit, down, shake, and out with hand signals only. Like I said, damn smart. Although I can point OR command her out of the room, I have a tendency of doing both.

Tyler picked up on it and promptly copied me. He pointed out of the kitchen and commanded, “Lilaa” pause pause pause “OUT.”

I laughed. Sarah laughed. Laughing was a mistake.

“Lilaa” pause pause pause “OUT.”

And then a few days later…

“Dada.”

“Yeah buddy?”

“Out.”

What’s that they say about imitation and flattery? I’m not flattered.

4 Comments

Also filed under: Sarah, conversations, delilah

Video games are bad?

December 4, 2009 by Joe

Before the Nintendo Entertainment System blessed the world with its introduction, and completely blew me away with its advanced graphics and sounds, I spent my gaming time on the Atari 2600. Before I played the Atari, I watched people play the Atari. I watched as my big brother mastered Fast Eddie and Circus Atari. I watched as my big sister played Pitfall and Defender. Before that, I watched my parents play Kaboom.

Kaboom. A game that didn’t use the joystick. Instead, you plugged in the “paddles,” a steering wheel-like controller. The premise was simple. You were a stack of three tubs of water. Above you, a criminal dropped bombs. You steer the dial on the paddle left and right to catch the bombs. The criminal dropped ten bombs in the first round, twenty in the second, thirty in the third, and so on for ten rounds. You received one point per bomb caught in the first round, 2 each for the second, and so on up to 10 points per bomb in round ten. To make the game even more challenging, bombs were dropped faster and faster as the rounds progressed, becoming nearly blinding around the eighth round. Miss even a single bomb and you lose a barrel and go back one round.

It was my favorite game to watch. Not for the graphics nor for the premise of the game. Instead, I was hypnotized with the scoring. I don’t remember how young I was (maybe my mom will weigh in with a comment), but I would sit on the floor and try to race the scoring system. It was my goal to yell out score updates just before my parents caught the next bomb.

“1.. 2.. 3.. 4.. 5.. 6.. 7.. 8.. 9.. 10″

“12. 14. 16. 18. 20,” continuing to 50.

“53 56 59…”

You get the picture. Now that I’m a gamer myself, I realize that this had to play hell with my parents’ concentration. Of all the games my parents had (Space Invaders, Combat, Night Driver (we never owned Joust. Why would we not have Joust?)), my favorite game to “play” was called Atari Math. An equation appeared on the screen and the player had a limited amount of time – 10 to 20 seconds, if I remember correctly, depending on which setting you choose – to correctly display the answer using the joystick and the single red button.

And I loved it. Knowing that I could take two numbers and make a third by adding, subtracting, multiplying or dividing awed me. I don’t mean to brag, but I kicked ass at that game. I could even figure out remainder on the division problems. The timer was usually just an afterthought. It buzzed me a few times when a particularly difficult equation got the best of me though.

Twenty years later, plus some change, Sarah and my step-dad are playing a game (secret targets???) on the Nintendo Wii. It astounds me how much has changed. The Atari could display sixteen colors on the screen at any given time, and had a total palette of 128 colors, whereas current systems are capable of millions. Tyler will likely never know what an 8-bit or 16-bit system is. My step-dad is holding the controller like a bow, and pulling his arm back. A sensor captures every movement and displays a bow and arrow on the screen for him to aim at a target. *swish… THWAP*

“Seven,” the game voice-over announces.

Sarah steps up and takes aim, the screen mirroring even the most delicate movements of Sarah’s arm. While I reminisce about a system that had a controller with five inputs (up, down, left, right, and a button), Sarah’s motions are being tracked, wirelessly, on three different axes. *swish… THWAP*

The screen flashes to an instant replay of her near bulls-eye as the announcer shouts her score. “Nine.”

“Ninnne,” Tyler replies with enthusiasm.

My boy, I think. That’s my boy. If this doesn’t prove that he truly is his father’s son, I don’t know what does.

9 Comments

Also filed under: Sarah, Tyler, family, games, like father like son

Wordless Wednesday v. Similar Expressions

November 25, 2009 by Joe

Note: It’s “No Shave November”… That’s why.

For more of my Wordless Wednesday posts, click here: Wordless Wednesday

8 Comments

Also filed under: Tyler, wordless wednesday

Anyone have a spare attitude they can lend us?

November 20, 2009 by Joe

Is it considered inappropriate to tell a sixteen month old toddler that he is acting like a dick, and I would be extremely grateful if he would cease in being a dick? I had a less than fantastic day at work today. I spent hours on the phone speaking with customers, quality engineers, and other people that had no desire in making this a great day. This is after having a miserable day yesterday where my wife got mad at me for asking questions about homemade fingerpaint, and I got mad at her for being mad at me for not being able to read minds. Of course, it doesn’t help that I’m diagnosed bi-polar, don’t take meds, and have been dealing with gloomy, cold, rainy, and just generally shitty weather for the last couple days.

When I come home to a delicious dinner that Tyler refuses to eat, yet still says “More more more more more more more dada more more mama more more more,” I just want to scream out YES TYLER! I KNOW YOU WANT MORE EVEN THOUGH THERE IS MORE ALL OVER YOUR *#*@&$ PLATE!

We make excuses for him. He’s teething. He had a short nap. He had a really busy day. He’s teething. He didn’t sleep well last night. He’s teething. The fact is, he’s a toddler that can’t communicate with his parents as much as we both wish he could. He wants what he wants when he wants it, but Tyler just doesn’t have the means to tell us what exactly IT is. Last week, Tyler would say “no” to a question if the answer was no. “No” had one meaning. Today, “no” has multiple meanings. If he’s holding his cup and says “no,” it means Tyler doesn’t want his water anymore. Unfortunately, we didn’t know that’s what he was saying, so he threw a fit about it. God forbid he just set his water down and push it away.

Full disclosure though, it doesn’t really help that Sarah and I are pickers. We pick on each other all the time, and sometimes don’t know when is the WRONG time to pick on Tyler. Tonight, for example, Tyler desperately wanted to wear Sarah’s slippers. Sarah decided to put the slipper on her own foot. Meltdown. In her defense, we have been working with Tyler about sharing, and this seemed like a good time to continue those lessons even though we were already dealing with a tired toddler with maybe less patience than I had. Then he wanted to wear his cowboy boots. Bedtime was approaching shortly, so I told Tyler that he couldn’t wear his boots tonight, and that he’d have to wait until tomorrow. Meltdown. We told Tyler it was time to put away his toys. Meltdown. I looked at Tyler. Meltdown. I inhaled a lungful of oxygen. Meltdown. A butterfly in Oklahoma fluttered its wings. Meltdown.

I’m embarrassed to admit that I said, aloud, that, while I loved being a father, this was not one of those days.

There was a moment that made Sarah and I bust a gut though. We built a tower of mega-bloks (think big Lego blocks). Tyler was in mid-meltdown, so Sarah and I were doing our best to just ignore him. His cries and whines were drilling into my already critically low patience level, sucking any reserves dry. I took some spare mega-blocks and built an airplane. With the power of my imagination, and with guidance from my hand, the plane took flight. It circled the tower and soared the skies. In a moment of desperation, I crashed the plane into the tower, sending blocks scattering across the carpeted floor. I closed my eyes, ashamed that I couldn’t keep my cool just a bit longer. Weren’t we just about at the end of this particular nuclear reaction anyway? Why couldn’t I just hold my breath for a couple more seconds? As I lay on the floor, eyes still closed, Tyler fell silent.

“Mess. Booooom.”

The absolute innocence in his sweet little voice melts my soul. I could never imagine not being Tyler’s father. When he hugs me, kisses me, tells me he loves me, when he runs to me when I get home from work and wraps his arms around my legs saying “daddeee”; when he does these things, I feel so full of love and awe that my eyes swim for a moment. Sometimes I’m so caught off guard by these pure moments that I feel my breath catch and hitch in my chest.

I hope you didn’t come here expecting to laugh your ass off today. I’m a little apprehensive about actually putting this post up for the masses to read, but I guess parenting isn’t all sunshine and lollipops. While I really do enjoy talking about the lighter side of parenting, I also just really needed to get this off my chest.

I’m just not in a good place lately

11 Comments

Also filed under: Bad parenting, Sarah, Tyler, frustration, irrational dad, parenting

Fall foto fun

November 10, 2009 by Joe

We had a sunny, slightly warm day recently, which caught all of us off guard. I actually forgot what warm sunlight felt like. Sarah and I decided it would be a great time to get the compost pile onto the garden and layer on a few inches of leaves to hopefully break down over the winter, giving us some great soil for vegetables next Spring. This also gave us the perfect opportunity to make a leaf pile for jumping…

Click on any of these pictures to view them much larger.

Tyler wanted to help rake the leaves.

PULLLLLLL…. he actually got a pretty decent sized pile for a 16 month old.

Delilah watched, and Tyler grabbed a couple handfuls.

JUMP!

This smile is worth all the gold in the world.

Tyler played with his daddy.

And he played with his mommy.

There are tons of great photos that I haven’t posted here. For more leaf pile madness, click this link to view the rest of the pictures.

7 Comments

Also filed under: Sarah, Tyler, adorable, photos

Due to a mistake by yours truly, my site was down for an undetermined amount of time. But it's fixed now: http://www.irrationaldad.com 17 hours ago
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New blog up today!!! This one is about letting the beast out of its cage. Pray for us. - http://awe.sm/52Jtt 2010/03/09
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In case all you weekend warriors missed it... The elusive Sunday blog post! This one is a short one about being warned - http://awe.sm/52GfF 2010/03/08

A Conversation about Being Warned

March 7, 2010 by Joe

The Inner Voice

February 22, 2010 by Joe

Wordless Wednesday v. Happy Surprised

February 3, 2010 by Joe

On Being Absent

January 22, 2010 by Joe

Hi

January 8, 2010 by Joe

Imitation and flattery

December 8, 2009 by Joe

Video games are bad?

December 4, 2009 by Joe

Wordless Wednesday v. Similar Expressions

November 25, 2009 by Joe

Anyone have a spare attitude they can lend us?

November 20, 2009 by Joe

Fall foto fun

November 10, 2009 by Joe

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