Oh Boy!

I was recently exposed on Facebook to an annoying article regarding the “5 things ALL new moms need to know” about raising boys.  Color me unimpressed. 

I’m speculating that the article was written by aliens from an all-female planet.  Why?  Because the “revelations” we’re all painfully obvious.  Boys have a lot of energy… Boys get dirty… Boys pee on everything.  I don’t want to spoil the ending, but DUH!

I bet at least 2 of them are peeing.

So without further ado, here are the 5 things all new moms REALLY need to know about raising boys  (by the way, if you question my list making qualifications on this topic be aware that I come from a long line of “boys only” households.  My father has two sons.  My brother has two sons.  And, I have two sons.  In fact, the only way we get females into our houses is to trick them.  We know boys)...

#1:  If you pull your son’s bed into the middle of the room, you will find a well-defined line just below mattress height all along the wall.  The official term for this phenomenon is “booger-wall”.  Boys will do this into their late 20s.  Go ahead and check.  I’ll wait here for you.

#2:  All boys will pee in the shower... eventually.  It may take some longer to start than others, but once they do there’s no going back.  The longer you can shame your sons into refraining, the better.  One guy I know didn’t start until he was 30.  Today his shower smells like a Texico bathroom.

#3:  Your son will know at least 5-7 “funny” ways to describe vomiting by the time he’s 10.  Shout at your shoes.  Call Ralph on the big white telephone.  Technicolor yawn.  Sorry.  It’s what we do.  Things really get out of hand when the other bodily functions enter into the mix… and rest assured, they will.

#4:  Boys (usually below the age of 8) will occasionally forget to go to the bathroom.  And just so we’re clear… they still eliminate their bladder and bowels.  It’s just that, a “bathroom” is nowhere in sight.  Don’t worry about this one too much unless they’re still doing it into their teens (and it’s a good idea to make sure you have an extra pair of underwear at the ready).

#5:  Boys love nudity.  At first it’s mostly their own, and it’s kind of funny.  As they get older they’ll begin to seek out the nudity of others, and it's not so funny.  My advice is to keep a lid on this one.  Subscribe to Cinemax if you have to and always knock before entering their room.

Not so cute now… am I?

So there you have it.  Maybe it’s not Facebook friendly after all.  

Baby’s Got Back (spasms)

For the last two weeks, my lovely wife has suffered horribly with back spasms.  At times, her pain has been manageable.  Other times, it’s been unbearable.  The whole time, it’s been a huge pain in (and above) her ass.

A few days into it, we thought things might be getting better.  However, after spending 5 hours sitting in a metal chair designed by the Marquis De Sade at a “trivia night”… things took a turn for the worse.  The trouble started on her lower right side and has worked itself westward gaining valuable new real estate.  I’m no doctor, but I think the most accurate diagnosis for her current medical condition is… “DON’T F#@KING TOUCH ME!”    

Hers goes to 11.

The good news is… she’s (hopefully) starting to get better.  The bad news is… I used up my Dad “bag of tricks” for keeping the house and family in order about 3 days ago.  You see (and this won’t be a surprise to anyone who knows us), my wife carries 98% of the load in our house.  She cooks the majority of the meals.   She cleans the majority of the house.  She takes care of the majority of our kids.  For those of you wondering, my 2% consists of mowing the lawn, killing random spiders and resetting the clocks at daylight savings time (all of which she’s more capable of doing than I am, except the spider thing).

If it wasn’t for these guys, I’d be out on my ass.

She’s the heart, brains and soul of our family (basically she’s the whole body – except the lower back).  And if we didn't realize it fully before, we certainly know it now.  We need you.  We love you.  And, we hope you get well soon.

Well, time to run.  I have to figure out which cereal the boys and I are having for dinner tonight.

I'm telling you now...

My oldest nephew graduates from college today. 

I remember where I was when I got the call announcing his birth.  It was a shabby college apartment.  It was the Monday before Thanksgiving.  It was right after dinner.  If memory serves correctly, I immediately grabbed a bottle of Root Beer Schnapps, announced to my roommates that I was an uncle, and toasted (and re-toasted then re-re-toasted) the good news.  Details regarding the remainder of the evening are somewhat hazy; however, there’s a distinct possibility that the U of I women’s bowling team was involved.  But any-hoo…

Any of you ladies want to buff my bowling balls?

Flash forward to last night.  After work, I spent a couple of glorious hours registering my children for 4^th and 7^th grade.  And trust me, if you’ve never done that before… it’s exactly as fun as you’d think (imagine Disneyworld size lines mixed with an inner-city Wal-Mart atmosphere).  Because the wait was long and because I could no longer tolerate the people surrounding me, my mind began to wander.  I started to think of the short time left before my sons graduate from high school… and then college.

I know, I know… they’ve still got many years to go.  But seeing how quickly the years between my nephew’s birth (and my subsequent run in with the “lady” bowlers) and his graduation passed… I’m thinking there’s not as much time left as I’d hoped.

For those of you who don’t know, our family has been blessed with unique challenges.  My oldest son is the smartest person I’ve ever met.  He’s the sweetest person I know.  And, he also happens to have high-functioning autism.   Through that, he has managed to maintain a straight-A average and win his way into the hearts of everyone who’s ever met him.  Our youngest son was born with a congenital heart defect.  He had two heart surgeries prior to his second birthday.  He’s the bravest soul I’ve ever met and the one person I’d want to have my back in case of a zombie apocalypse.  He’s a fighter and every bit as smart as his brother.

So as I entered my happy place in line at registration last night, I began to imagine the scene at their respective graduations.  I’ll tell you now… it’s NOT going to be pretty.  So let this stand as your official warning…  Please don’t ask me how I’m feeling that day.  Definitely don’t approach me in a “huggy” way.  And, whatever you do… don’t try to stop me from sobbing uncontrollably.  Trust me… it’s a good cry.  I’ve earned it.

And little Johnny was never seen again.

There IS one thing you CAN do for me though.  If you see any female bowlers lurking about… tell them I split.

Brought to you by...

Back in the day as I sat in front of the TV with my young sons, I would dream of the future.  Not so much a future filled with soccer games or learner’s permits or ACT prep courses… no, no... I’m of a more practical mind.  Specifically I’d dream of a time in the years to come when we would watch TV shows featuring real-life, flesh and blood, humans.  You see, from the end of 2002 through 2009, if our TV was on… a cartoon was playing.  Now don’t get me wrong, I’m a HUGE fan of cartoons.  But by 2005, I was ready to smother myself with a Boppy pillow to escape the madness.

This show sucks…

Those early days were filled mainly by Nick Jr (then called Noggin) and hours of Go Diego Go, Little Bear, Moose A. Moose, and dozens of other mind-numbing, animated creations.  We learned and relearned our colors.  We counted and recounted our numbers.  We sang the damn alphabet song a million times.  It was almost enough to turn me off to TV altogether (I know… crazy, right?).  The only bright spots were the short musical interludes between shows featuring Laurie Berkner.  I don’t remember much about her except that she sang some catchy songs.  She was a real, human person.  And, she was bouncy.   Oh… was she bouncy.  But I digress…

Wait for it.

Now that my boys have grown older and the majority of our TV watching is of the non-animated type, you know what… I long for the good old days.  It’s not so much the shows.  True, we accidentally catch a random decapitation or an ill-timed boner joke during the seven o'clock hour… those I can handle.  It’s the damned commercials.  Honestly... how many people have mesothelioma?  Do we ALL have to know the horrors surrounding the transvaginal mess?   I'm afraid to take a bathroom break during the commercials due to the rash of questions that hit me upon my return.  "Dad... have you ever considered Cymbalta?"  or "Dad... are you concerned about your ereptile misfunction?".

I guess the moral of the story is to be careful what you wish for.  The good news is… Cartoon Network now shows Looney Tunes from 6-7pm every night.  If I can just get them to hire Laurie Berkner, we’ll be set.  Take that ereptile misfunction.

This End Up

I’m not sure why I’m telling you this, but I have another colonoscopy scheduled for this Friday.  As you’ve probably deduced, that means I’ve had one of these “medically sanctioned sodomies” before.  As you’ve probably also surmised… I’ve begun to reluctantly accept the suffix “oscopy” as part of the everyday language of my mid-40s life.

To be fair, the previous procedure wasn’t that bad.  In fact, I had two, two, two procedures in one.  The medical staff performed a colonoscopy AND endoscopy on me at the same time.  Now “at the same time” may evoke a disturbing image.  So, just to be clear… they performed one procedure and then the other procedure immediately after.  My only request to the doctor as I was rolled into the operating room was that they wipe down all the equipment at half time.  Apparently, he had heard that one before.

The good news… I was under general anesthesia and didn’t feel a thing.  That comforted me greatly until I realized that somewhere on the internet pictures may exist of me being spun on a giant spit by a hoard of scrub-wearing, medical-degree-having, hooligans.  Most likely that didn’t occur… but that doesn’t stop me from Google Image searching it from time to time just to be sure.

Because a real picture was too disturbing.

The bad news… the pregame.  For those who haven’t experienced a colonoscopy yet, here’s the rub.  In order for the doctor to get a good look at the goods, you need to be clean as a whistle down there.  To facilitate that condition for my last procedure, the doctor’s office provided me with a giant tub of liquid to consume the day before.  The process was simple.  I drank about 200 ounces of premixed “turbolax” and then I made sweet, sweet love to my toilet for the next 12 hours.

Those were good times.

Again… illustrations are a much better choice.

Now here’s the funny part.  This time around, the doctor’s office didn’t provide that same, easy solution.  Maybe it’s because I’m an oscopy-veteran.  Maybe the “wipe down the equipment” joke didn’t go over well… who knows?  Instead, I was sent a list of over-the-counter products that would replicate the results.  At first that didn’t seem like a big deal.  It wasn’t until I was standing in the checkout line with a heaping pile of laxatives that I started to get uncomfortable.  I half expected the freckle-faced, teenage check-out clerk to alert Homeland Security of my unusual purchase.  I mean, they track the ingredients that meth dealers use to produce their product.  Why wouldn’t my shopping basket full of "enough intestinal Drano to take down a small village" set off more than a few red flags?  Maybe she was too busy laughing to care. 

So now we wait.  I’ve still got a couple of days to go before I mix up my sinister concoction and release the Kraken.  The only thing I have left to decide is if I go for it and order the XXL Steak Nachos from Taco Bell tomorrow for lunch.  Why not… right?