Parents' Night Out

Well, we finally did it. My wife and I finally secured the services of a highly trained care giver (baby sitter) to watch our son while we went out to a party. Only took 28 months to make this leap of parental freedom. I'll be the first to admit, we are overly protective parents, so that's the main reason why my wife and I haven't done this before now. It's not that we don't trust people to take care of our son, but we just don't trust people to take care of our son... Seriously, our chosen care giver came highly recommended. With over 30 years of experience in the health care profession, as well as two tours of duty raising two adorable and yet rambunctious boys, her resume was impeccable. Thanks Mom aka GiGi, you did BHazy and me a solid. This night of freedom was made possible by my mom and Smirnoff Ice (BHazy needed to down a few to help facilitate the coping with separation anxieties...).

The night consisted with going to a co-workers house to watch the UFC Pay-per-View with the main card attraction being the rematch between Chuck Liddell and Tito Ortiz. I rooted for Tito, he however lost a heart breaker to Chuck in the third round. Chuck has heavy hands, one punch has stopped many a match. Tito made him work for his win, it was a good fight. Other matches include: Jardine beating Griffon, Leben losing to MacDonald, and Arlovski starting his return back to heavyweight supremacy with a win over Cruz.

My wife took full advantage of being around other adults, and instigated conversations with just about everyone. She kept mumbling something about "adult conversation, finally" and giggling maniacally, not sure what that was about. Tadpole207, pass along my personal thanks to JoJo, my wife enjoyed talking both her ears completely off, LOL!!! Additional beverages were also consumed. There was some pretty good wine floating around, which I managed to drink some without making any career jeopardizing remarks (pardon me whilst I pat my own back). I did have a few Sam Adam's Boston Lagers as well, that's a pretty good beer. Did you know you don't have to have a full on Omish/ ZZ Top beard like the guy in the commercial has to buy and drink that beer? It's true, valid driver's license and proof that you're over 21 is all it takes.

Overall, it was a great evening. My wife and I were able to leave our son in excellent hands, and we got to hang out with great people. I would like to extend the following thanks:

• Kelly and Bryce- thank you for inviting us into your home and making us feel welcome. My wife and I had a lovely time. Bryce, will you want salad at lunch first, or will you want to go right to the pizza?
• Tadpole and JoJo- thank you both for just being yourselves. Please pass along our enjoyment of Stephan's (I hope I spelled it correctly in accordance with his cool name) company, he's a good kid.
• Jordan- you're a MoMo, and I am not ashamed to admit I cried at the end of Man on Fire. If that makes me a (slang for woman's primary sex organ), then so be it. I ain't mad at you.
• Sandwick- nice beer trick, that you have a beer trick doesn't necessarily mean you drink too much.
• Fuzz- thanks for just being you, not sure I understand the circumstances that led to the creation of the Ish...
• Dan- I am sure your chili was delicious, and I apologize for not eating any. However, when at some one's home for the first time, I tend to avoid throwing "new fuel" into my diesel engine. I burp enough without compounding the problem.
• Bert- first time meeting you, you seem like a cool guy. Nice to make your acquaintance.
• Justin- better late than never.
• Josh- you too.
• Marc & April- sorry I didn't see you until time to close the party down.
• Mark and Delores- good seeing you guys.
• If I left anybody out, don't take offense. Scroll back up, you'll see I did attempt to kill some brain cells, apparently they were associated with short term memory.

My wife and I had a blast, and I think my mom enjoyed watching my son. It was all around a great evening.

I love Leap Frog

Just being up front and honest, and I know you the reader wanted to know that. For those of you without children, I am referring to the brand of educational toys called Leap Frog- http://www.leapfrog.com. They make the best toys for children, regardless of age. I love them to the point of wanting to buy stock in them. My son received a Phonics train (this thing is huge), and it just happens that my son love trains (kill two birds with one stone). He also received a Learning Leap "action figure" that can be personalized to talk to your child and refer to them by their name, mommy's and daddy's name, friend's or other relative's name, pet's name, etc. He also received an interactive DVD system with his very own DVD remote. All this stuff so he can continue to develop at his accelerated rate and eventually pull a Doogie Howser and graduate college at age 10. I'm not pushing for that, but I think it can happen. My son has awesome DNA, and it shows.

My only issue is this- why weren't these toys around in my youth. I'm only 34 years old, surely there were some smart toy developers 30+ years ago. I mean, I got to play with yard darts, but after that 6 inch spike goes through flesh and lodges in bone, the thrill for the game kinda dies... I had Transformers, but all it taught me was that if there was intelligent life elsewhere in the universe, it would be an intelligent robot and I may get stuck changing its oil depending on how their inter-species war went. About the only educational "toy" I had was an abacus, and that was fun for about 2 seconds, and then I used it in a back drop as part of my GI Joe (with Kung Fu grip) environment. I feel slighted, and I worry I am dumber for not having Leap Frog earlier in my life. My son already calls me "cazy Daddy", is he really saying "moron Daddy" but he loves me too much to really say that? Maybe I should not delve into that to much, the answer might f--- me up mentally, even more than I already am...

Day After Christmas

Well, it's the day after Christmas. Take an inventory of your surroundings, verify your current physical and emotional condition, make sure you aren't on any posters at the Post Office (think FBI's Most Wanted List), ANNNNNNNNDDDD we're good. Congrats, you have successfully survived yet another close proximity encounter with relatives. Not all relatives are bad, but the odds will always be against you that most are not your cup of tea. Funny that, considering they should share some of the same blood you carry around barring any outside influence like secondary, tertiary, quattuordrary, or quinquedary (I made those last two up, based on my mutating Latin roots for numbers....total nerdy) marriages and the influx of alien DNA. My feelings on that are best left for another day.

Hey, let's talk about happiness around the holidays. Happiness is a child seeing Christmas decorations and yelling "Well look at that". Happiness is you saying Merry Christmas and your child yelling "Happy Halloween". Happiness is knowing the existence of a Blue Mater (from the movie "Cars", Tow Mater is blue for like 30 seconds, but my child had to have one) and by hook, crook, or Grangela your son gets his hands on one.

Happiness is your child's delirious excitement at receiving Thomas the Train tracks and train characters, even ones he already owns. Happiness is seeing your wife happy as she watches your son being happy. Happiness is seeing all the people you care about, even if it's just for 15 minutes. Let's not forget, happiness is this guy after his belly gets full on Mom's cooking.

Time for a quick shout out to Mom's table- turkey, dressing, biscuits, broccoli casserole, sweet potato casserole, mashed potatoes (I made these, they sucked, I did not represent well), and the Piece de Resistance- marinated pork loin. It will make you run up to (insert local bbq restaurant name here)'s main cook and head butt that slacker in the jaw. And for dessert, a Chocolate Mousse Cake (sorry Tadpole207, I had some at the house, but I ate it). Awesome to consume is an understatement, it was good enough to give a crackhead a new addiction. Who made it? Shannon Hayes, my sister-in-law, and she has made a career out of making my tummy and other peoples' tummies happy. Just go to http://www.sugarplumcakes.com/ and take a virtual tour of all the goodies. If you'll excuse me, there's a piece of cake in the fridge calling my name.

For those of you that read yesterday's post, I can assure you that my nearly omnipotent prediction of my wife's shock and embarrassment was spot on accurate. Good to know that after 17 years of togetherness, I still have new levels of unexplored craziness (cazyness if you speak Kiril-nese). Oh, and if you didn't know, I am Cazy, I am a Cazy Daddy.

Point blank asked by Bhazy, "Well mister, how do you plan to top that post". Not sure that I want to, I don't like working under pressure. But for the studious readers out there, the timing could not have been better, what with today being the 17 year anniversary for that momentous event. Perception altering? Why yes, yes it was....

So, what will I write about? Let's talk about ownership, possessiveness, out right claiming as property. Let's talk about my son's referring to me as "his daddy" and just how serious he is.

My son speaks about me as if I am "bought and paid for", "locked in on contract", "serving life without parole" his daddy. And means it. "My daddy come back my house". See what he did there? Suntrust still expects my payment every month, but who am I to argue. Here are a few better examples:

• My shirts- I just recently came into possession of some rather stylish Oakley button up shirts. The kind that aren't my typical wash and wear, you need to baby them a bit. Which my wife was gonna do. Wash them via delicate cycle, and then air dry them on a laundry rack. Obviously didn't discuss this with my son, and didn't ask permission. Daddy's shirts go in the washer, and then into the dryer. My son has seen it done a hundred times in two years. These Oakley shirts go into the washer, and then head towards the rack. My son freaks, "My Daddy shirts go in dryer!!!" Yells this at my wife his mother for several minutes. My wife doesn't listen. I think this kicked things up a notch for my son, as I have heard it told he was close to administering discipline, toddler style. He was actually going to spank his mother for not putting his daddy's shirts in the dryer. Am I the only one intensely amused by this?
• Eggs- as part of my daily diet, I eat 10 egg whites and 2 yolks with half a cup of oatmeal as 1 meal. I come home from work, and I am told by my son that "Mommy make your eggs, mommy make your eggs". As if he is in charge of the egg cooking, and he is updating me on how he has delegated responsibility and the work load. I am certain the conversations always start as "mommy make eggs?", which my wife replies "yes" which begs the question "mommy make eggs for my daddy?" which the reply is again "yes". This point is covered from several different angles to ensure that mommy isn't playing a trick on my son or me, very similar to how interrogations were conducted during the "Spanish Inquisition".
• Cookies- yes, I am a fan of that pastry. My son knows this. He makes cookies two ways: just to make cookies or he is making cookies for his daddy. The importance of both are pretty relevant (cookies are delicious), but the "My Daddy" cookies are cooked and then protected until he can supervise my eating them. Supervise as in I hold him on my lap with one hand, I eat a cookie with the other, and another cookie is force fed to me by my son. As anyone should know, you eat cookies in twos (you have two hands, simple process of applying math to everyday life). Since one hand is occupied holding a giant, insanely intelligent toddler, I am in need of assistance. Who better to assist me than said giant, insanely intelligent toddler.

I live a juxtapositional life with my son (definition of juxtapositional provided by Nick). I am certain I was put here to protect my son, and I find instances where he is protecting me. I think I am supposed to teach him about life, and I find I have been and continue to be taught. I like knowing I have a two year old body and soul guard.

Being from North Carolina, I am a huge Carolina Panther fan. Yesterday (12/17/06) was painful to watch. A average team came in and beat us like we stole something from them. And I was at the stadium, to watch all the dismal play in person. Talk about the worst 3 quarters and 5 minutes of the 4th Quarter of my life (not really the worst, but that was how I wanted to tell you I left the game early).

It was my first time at the Bank of America formerly Erickson Stadium (thank goodness for corporate sponsorship). Being my first time, I thought the Panthers would have made it special for me. Like my wife did, December 19th, 1989. Thank you BHazy, I'll never think of after school programs without grinning.

Some of you that read this, know that my wife is as embarassed to read this as you are.

What's new in my life? What have I been up to? Well, funny you should ask. I just recently come off of a cycle (stopped taking) a product called Halodrol (the good version, the first version that the FDA had objections too). It is essentially a product that encourages a body to absorb vital nutrients and swing the hormonal axis over to the "let's get muscular" setting.

Here are a few things I learned about myself and life in general now that the smoke has cleared.

1. rapid weight gain sucks, regardless of whether you are a pregnant woman, someone with an eating disorder, or you are in a bulking phase for the winter. I have packed on 27 pounds in 30 days, and my back, knees, ankles, belt, and lungs have felt them all. It is not as funny as it sounds to almost black out from bending over to tie your shoes. I was a lot more comfortable at 235, and I am actively trying to get back there.
2. attitude is 9 parts satisfaction/satiety, and 1 part upbringing. If your happy or satisfied, you have a pleasant attitude. Upbringing only plays a part in determining what makes you happy. All that philosophical horse crap essentially means that if you are going to use a bulking product, you have to eat like you are bulking up. I have tried Halodrol twice, once via limited/restricted calories, and once where I ate to spare muscle tissue and pack on weight to achieve the proper anabolic environment. I was a lot more pleasant to be around when I was eating with a purpose and not starving myself.
3. I am addicted to brownies. Brownies have nothing to do with putting on muscle, but when you take things that affect your metabolism in such a way that you can get away with eating an entire pan of brownies by yourself, you find yourself coming up with reasons why eating an entire pan of brownies is a good idea. I mean, beyond the knowledge that brownies are extremely tasty.
4. Carbs are delicious. This ties into Number 3, but means so much more. M&Ms are tasty, and like I have stated in an earlier post, I think they are the perfect candy. Baked Cheetos, quite the delectable food pairing with any sandwich, and can be enjoyed all by themselves. Pizza, well pizza is perfect by its very nature. I won't lie I am still petitioning to make this the food item shown when the food pyramid is mentioned (bread/grains, dairy, vegetables, and meat = perfect food). Ice cream does help you go to sleep when you are all keyed up and jittery on M&Ms. Yes, I have done it.
5. I am addicted to food (might have gathered that by now). I think I need to join a support group or join an organization that ends in "anonymous". I have two brothers that went to school for culinary arts or restaurant management. When asked why I didn't walk the same path, I always reply "Because I would eat myself to death". And dying with chocolate cake and nachos on your face really isn't funny.
6. Halodrol is motivating. Nothing will get you in the gym faster than something that will assuredly generate benefits if only you show up. Dangerous part is knowing AND understanding that you can still make gains when you aren't taking a chemical aid. You gotta whoop that mental monkey's a$$ when it gets on your back...
7. Age will determine goals. As I get older, I find myself looking towards lean and functional muscle, and not the stuff of early years Terminator-now-California-Governor-type mass. Since I will never be that big or muscular, why train like I can be. That being said, a man gets to feeling froggy and thinking yesteryear is within his grasp. And then he heads to the shoe box/medicine cabinet/top dresser drawer for the chemical help. 20 pounds later, you ask yourself "What the frig was I thinking...?", and "Did I just black out from getting off the toilet?".
8. Children don't care about big. They don't, or at least my son doesn't. I am still daddy, and he ignores me when it suits him and listens when it suits him. Brings me to my main point for this number; Who was I trying to impress? The few people it would matter to if I added a solid 5-10 of muscle would still love me if I never walked down that road. Nothing about me changed in Kiril's eyes other than it took me longer to do everything, and his time frame doesn't allow for "slow and ponderous". So next time, I need to train for speed if I take Halodrol again, because big is low on generating cool points at my house.
9. No real statement here, just felt like ending on 9. It's a numerology thing, you wouldn't understand (is that Weird Al's "White & Nerdy" playing in the background?).

Halodrol, the good stuff, is good. It works. But like any tool, you have to pick the desired outcome to decide if it's the right tool. And it helps to really know what desired outcome you want. I thought I wanted 'hulky" or "he kinda looks like a football player", but I think I really prefer "deceptively in shape". And this tummy does not say "deceptively in shape". It says "I am addicted to brownies..."

Well, well, well, what shall we talk about today? Global economy? Nah, that topic is overdone and boring. Religion? Nope, too much talking has been done and is being done. I think religion needs to adopt the Nike(TM) logo, "Just Do It". Maybe if fewer people were talking and more were actually believing, worshipping, and understanding religion, there just might be fewer wars. Discuss this on your own time. Want to talk about raising gas prices? Why? Until the American consumer decides that it doesn't need an SUV with a Hemi or a military inspired all terrain vehicle to help navigate the mall parking lot, our dependence on fossil fuel will continue. I just hope for everyone's sake that new packet of oil in the Gulf of Mexico pans out like everyone hopes.

Well, since I don't wish to belabor any of those topics as they will be covered on tonight's 5:00pm, 5:30pm, 6:00pm, and 11:00pm news, let me pick a random topic. How about we talk about my son's "way above two year's old" vocabulary. He truly says some funny stuff.

• dammit- yeah, he says it. and he says it with the proper emphasis and in the right context. He wrecks two cars together, "Dammit". His mother or I corrects him, "Dammit". He stubs his toe on the fridge, "Dammit". His mother really wants to pin this on me, has not gathered more than circumstantial evidence.
• sank you- your welcome son, and sank you to you too.
• bless you- whether I have sneezed or I am attempting to drag phlegm from deep lung tissue, he wants to make sure I am covered. Sank you Kiril
• boomer- no idea what this means or is. Started telling his mother and I that he was a boomer, then his cousin was a boomer and he is a big boy. really don't know what a boomer is...
• I wants to drive- easy big fella, your feet won't hit the pedals there Short Round (Indiana Jones reference)
• Happy Halloween- Halloween is the bestest holiday of the year. Halloween is what every holiday is called. See a turkey next to a cornucopia, "Happy Halloween". See Santa Claus toting a sack of toys for good girls and boys, "Happy Halloween". I look forward to Easter...
• get me- this is the same as "Daddy I want to wrestle. After this there tends to be a lot of body slams, tickles, belly raspberries, and neck squeaks. Sometimes it proceeds...
• just one time- this is how he sweetens the pot to get me to wrestle if I seem hesitant or lazy. Ladies and gents, it is never one time. One time always leads to 15+ minutes of body slams, tickles, belly raspberries, and neck squeaks.
• take off gasses- this would be about my spectacles. this phrase is part of the "get me" "just one time" process. He understands I wrestle better if I don't have my "gasses" on.
• Is that for Rob- this accompanies all trips to the bank, apparently he perceives that there is a debt that we owe to my brother, whose name is Rob (good guess for those that were on the edge of their seat).
• I make snakes- not to talk too much about it or gross anyone out, but this is what my son refers to when he makes twosies in the potty. More of a visual description of the outcome... and I think you got it.

These are just a few samples of his verbal skills. He has more than I can count, talking to him is like talking to a 5 year old. He's like a little person (as I stupidly told my wife after a startling and insightful statement by my son, I think it had something to do with the national budget, religion, or rising gas prices...).

Today is your lucky day! It's Two for Wednesday, you lucky dog you!!!!!

Tattoos- sure I have one, I think they are cool, and mine is definitely the coolest (at least for me). Why? Because, I honored the unwritten rule of tattoos- it needs to mean something to the person the tattoo is going on. Don't do it because you think it will earn you cool points in middle school, or that you will impress that special person with your "wild" side. Mine was a DHazy twist on what my wife does with photographs and scrap books. It was a well thought out, thoroughly planned and researched physical representation of my love for my son. I will never regret that I got the tattoo, nor will I ever have a reason to have it removed. It will walk through time with me, reminding me of the angelic innocence of a child that I at one time never planned to have and now regret waiting so long to. It will be with me until the end of my time, and as I make that transition, I would like to take a moment to assume that my soul will have that same image as it moves from this existence to the next.

It is said that once you get one, you will either never get another or can barely wait to get more. I am unashamedly the latter- I will get more. I am so sure of that that I have allocated portions of my body to various stories I want to tell with ink. One is quite possibly so ambitious that I think it will take years to complete once I finalize the image and find the artist that can translate my image to my skin. This one is so ambitious, it hasn't even been verbalized by me to anyone. But once I get the design right and the artist on board, it will be a work of art to make even Picasso cry. Do I have your curiosity up? If your name is BHazy, I for sure know I do.....

I would also like to send a blog-tastic shout/write/email out to Kat Von D, from the show Miami Ink. I think she has by far the best talent for portraits I have even seen. It is a goal of mine to get her to ink a tattoo for me. Hey, Google is good for a quick plug in her honor- http://www.katvond.net/. Do yourself a favor, jump on over there and take a peek. You need be careful though, you might find yourself wanting to take a little trip to Miami...

First of all, I would like to formally apologize to all four of my blog fans (3 known and 1 possible does equal four, thank you new math) for the less than dependable frequency of my posts. Between the hours I work and not really wanting to associate with a computer when I get home, I find that I don't update like I should. To the four of you, thanks for sticking in there, I hope this is worth it....

Needless to say, I am back from vacation. Heck, I am three weeks back from vacation. "Wow" you say, "you are quite slack". Umm, my bad. So I had 4 more days of vacation, then back to pushing a boulder up a mountain with my nose. I think that accurately portrays the life of a manager.

****Should you read this prior to accepting a job as a manager, pay close attention. All that money they are offering is for you to do the same job you have been doing BUT in addition you get to manage people doing a similar job. Don't misunderstand this, that money ain't for your ability to do the manual/mental/emotional portion of the job. That money is a bi-weekly apology for allowing you the "honor" of taking over some of the "higher ups' " headaches. A commitment from your employer to keep you well stocked on Excedrin and Rolaids, if you will. You might say "But Dhazy, what could be so difficult about telling people to do a job you already excel at?". Telling huh? Try equal measures of bribing, coercion, blackmail, trickery, jedi mind tricks and fanny smooching. Oh yes, you do have to slap on the chap stick and pay homage to the rump, because that's where the human ego dwells...

Side note- Due to my "experience" in managing, I think that I have the ability to go into politics or organized crime, but I could be wrong. I mean, I'll be the first to admit that I am not good at managing people. But then again, I ain't the worst to ever where the badge either.

What is so difficult about managing? Well, take ten foot of good old fashioned rope. Lay it out straight. Pick the "front" end. Promptly proceed to the "back" end and start pushing it in any direction. Heard that one before have you? Alrighty then, take same rope, and now give it feelings and emotions, religious and political baggage, let it date another co-worker rope and then the two ropes break up, allow the rope to figure out what it needs to do to get by and qualify less than stellar work ethic by their perceived lack of financial motivation, and the real kicker, you get to then be a counselor to the rope without necessarily having a Masters in psychology and Tissue Passing. That's why money is involved- flat out, people are a miserable race to work with and as a manager you should be compensated for not throttling them. Heck, I guess I should add "commitment from your employer to keep your hormonal levels in check with good scripts", because there have been days where I have considered either starting to drink or getting really serious about religion. Lack of faith and disappointment in mankind is not the best reason to do either.

"Well what should I do DHazy?" You tell me, we all make decisions for different reasons. You want the money, buckle up for the headaches because they are coming and will keep coming. You want to walk through life with fewer facial tics and murderous inclinations, stick to being a grunt. All I ask, and this is for all managers, if you decide to be a grunt, be one that comes in, does your job to the best of your ability, and go home.

So yes, I "love" being a manager and highly "recommend" it.

PS- just about anywhere you see quotes around a word (not a phrase or sentence), that is my sarcasm desperately trying to escape. If it's in quotes, think I mean the opposite.

I'm on vacation!!! I'm on vacation!!! I'm on vacation!!! I'm on vacation!!! I'm on vacation!!!

Sorry, I couldn't control myself. Now that I have gotten that bit of childish exuberance out of my system, we can move on to more adult oriented conversation.

I'm on vacation!!!I'm on vacation!!!I'm on vacation!!!I'm on vacation!!!I'm on vacation!!!

My bad, it's almost like my more relaxed personality traits have taken over and I feel it is necessary to let them run free on occasion.

Just to give you some insight into what I have done for the last 5 days, I will list for your reading enjoyment some things I have accomplished:

Saturday- I went and saw my grandparents, my mom, and my dad. I also got my son to take two naps (normally he takes one "nap" a day, and my wife insists I use the term "nap" loosely). And since I was on vacation, I may have dozed off during one or both of his naps as well.

Sunday- I got up with my son and let my wife sleep late. We did not tear the house apart (this time), although there was a lot of playing with Wibble Wobbles, Pop Blocks, reading books, and watching Shark Tales. My son and I also watched some football, as all fathers should do with their sons on Sundays. My brother Rob came over (who my son adores) and they spent time wrestling and discovering the magic of key rings.

Monday- again got up and let my wife sleep late, and then my wife let me catch a mid morning nap. I had a crazy dream about my job, so I hopped out of bed. We had planned to go to the mall, but my son had mentioned twice that his ear was hurting. FYI- my wife doesn't play around when it comes to ears, so we called to get an appointment with my son's doctor. We went to the appointment, my son pretty much runs the joint when he shows up, and he get's the look over by the doc. Turns out, he did have a pretty good ear infection, but never let it slow him down and only complained twice. Little man has an admirable pain threshold. Then we went to his Gran's house so he could play with his cousin Gabreale and chase Rocky (he's a cat).

Tuesday- it was a rainy day, but a rainy day of nothing is better than a sunny day of work (hopefully that did not illegally infringe on anyone's bumper sticker). My wife and I took our son to a local mall and let him run wild. He enjoys that wild open space and total freedom. I just let him do his exploration thing and I run along behind him to make sure he doesn't do anything that could get expensive. He also likes playing in the area set aside for children, but more for the climbing obstacles than the social interaction. Can a two year old become jaded to other children at or near his age? It's possible I reckon, my son obeys all social manners, but I guess knowing he is there for only a limited time he doesn't want to waste it creating a friendship that probably ends the moment we leave the area. Anywho, we leave, he falls asleep, we go home and he wakes up. Despite my efforts at non-enforcement (the trick to getting my son to take a nap is to act like you could care less if he takes a nap), my son holds out against a nap until mid afternoon. He takes a nap, I take a nap, and my wife takes a picture of us napping together. We wake up, put on the animated movie called Spirit, and proceed to eat our weight in wheat chex and Gold Fish snack crackers. Essentially, we trade until the bowl is empty, fill up and do it again. Later that night he wants Daddy to hold him and snuggle him when it's time to go to sleep. No problem, I am on vacation and a little spoiling makes it worth while.

Wednesday- we all go to Kiril's five year old cousin Gabreale's school for a surprise visit during her lunch and to see her classroom. Afterwards, I go and get some work done to my tattoo of my son on the left side of my chest (extra shading, outlining, accents). It was a good tattoo, I think it is better. And what they say is true, I want to get more done...

So far, that's been the first five days (four and a half really). Delightful in the abscence of almost anything work related. My son and I have bonded, my wife doesn't have that crazy look in her eye, I have picked up a few pounds (not that that was a goal or has ever been difficult for me to accomplish, but it is nice to take a break from watching what I eat and crush a few M&Ms, pizza, bags of chips, etc) and I still have fours days left to do something or nothing.

I do so dread next Monday. But hey, for right now, I'm on vacation!!!

Hello everyone, I am finally back. Posting that is, I haven't actually gone anywhere since my last post. Some of you might ask, "Are you just lazy, or have you done something that has occupied your time?". And the answer would be, I've been working. Not very glamorous or exciting, but as my wife likes to remind me I am an honest man. I work the hours I work (upwards of near 60 per week) so that my wife can stay home and raise and nuture our son instead of her working and we pay some stranger at a daycare who may or may not care about our son to do it. Knee jerk reaction when people find out my wife is a stay at home mom is "Oh, so you make a lot of money". I usually ask them to quantify their definition of "a lot of money". I am paid well for my job, you will never hear me complain to anyone about my salary. But even more important that that, my wife and I live within our means.

We spend less than we make. We do not apply for and pay with credit cards (learned this lesson the hard way, but I did learn it). I drive a 14 year old car (no car payment). My wife's car will be paid off in another year. Our mortgage payment is less than some peoples' apartment rent. Small house equals small mortgage people, and I don't care who doesn't like our "private refuge" from everyday life. It is our slice of the planet, and for our purposes it suits my family's needs. Clothes, yeah I have been known to nurse a pair of pants or shoes well past prime during the last two years, hell so has my wife. Shirts are supplied by companies I do business with, so that's covered. Food? I willingly ate can tuna for a year or more as you can't beat a meal for $1. What does all this add up to? Simple really. I am not looking for recognition, praise, or nomination for Dad of the year. Hell, you want to be impressed, ask me about the sacrifices my wife has made. Mom of the century material...

All this was examples of a point- if children are our future, adults need to prove that by living in some other fashion that does not jeopardize their children's future. Children do learn from adults, and piss poor spending habits will come back to haunt you and your offspring. Debt is not a neccessary part of life (those being food, water, shelter and air). Credit Card companies are finding more and more ways to sell their "product" to a younger and younger demographic. College and University logo'd Visa and Mastercard? Aren't you supposed to be studying, and not running up your dept while getting educated? Chase Manhattan offers a Disney themepark credit card (who is the eventual target there?). Debt consolidation and negotiation agencies are popping up like the black plague every time you turn around, all because people feel they need to live life to it's fullest today, and totally screw over tomorrow. Not me and mine, I am tired of that.

How do I know if our way is the right way? Well, let's tally it all up:

• My son walked by the time he was 10 months old. started running actually
• My son talks better than most 4 year olds, including knowing when to say "yes sir/ma'am", "no sir/ma'am", "thank you", and "bless you" if you happen to sneeze
• My son (he's two by the way) is potty training, and it's his own decision
• My son can eat with a fork and spoon and not destroy a kitchen
• My son can dress himself

Did I do all this? Dude, read my post, I work 60 hours a week. My wife did most of this. How you might ask?

Because we live within our means. This allows for my wife and I to focus on what is truly important- our son. He is the center of our existence, and he is worth everything we have done. My wife and I don't view sacrifice for our son to really be a sacrifice. If you have children, neither should you, and shame on you if you do.

Well, I am back at work after a four day weekend for the holiday. I find that I have a harder time getting my mind re-focused on business after extended time off, almost like after decompressing from work stress I sub-consciously have no desire to put myself through it again in any kind of hurry. My son does not make it any easier, as he is generally more fun to be around than anything else I could think of.

During the last four days, for my son I have done the following:

• watched "Finding Nemo" at least 5 times
• let him eat some of my food at least 15 times (yes I eat a lot)
• played Thomas the Train at least 4 times in 2 days
• held him for naps totaling 7 hours (I only slept maybe 2 of those hours, on my honor). Even after 2 years, he lets me hold him for naps, one of the best parts of being a daddy in my opinion.
• scared away the Boogie Man or anything else that might disturb his sleep at least 5 times in one night (Sunday night was rough for him)
• helped him learn to go to the potty every 20-30 minutes while he was awake (pooping included)
• tried not to smile 100 times as he exerted his will upon myself and his mommy
• allowed him to run somewhat wild at my grandparents rehab center, to the delight of all residents (and no broken bones were reported by anyone)
• allowed him to eat his weight in Mater (from "Cars the Movie) cake in honor of his two years making everyone around him smile (see pic, his aunt my sister-in-law makes these, and for a nominal fee she too can hook you up- http://www.sugarplumcakes.com/)
• stole sugar and hugs from him all the while he was wiggling and squealing in mock indignation. some tickling was involved as well...
• cut grass while he supervised and occasionally brought me water. normally he helps (which involves me carrying him and pushing a mower) but his mommy intervened on my behalf....
• fed him high protein cookies and protein powders as treats. I am reconsidering this, as his ability to move wheel chairs while the brakes are locked is somewhat unsettling....

All in all, a very enjoyable weekend for me (and my wife I hope. We have an arrangement, the details are confidential but basically I distract the Little Man while she rests from entertaining him while I work 50-60 hour weeks...). I am a weekend warrior daddy, and I have the battle scars to prove it.

Probably the most important thing to know about me (take notes)- my son and my wife are pretty much the center of my universe. I am about to knock your socks off with a funny story about both.

Before I get to the meat of this rambling, stay focused on the fact that this entire situation took place in the infamous yet fertile playground that is my mind.

It's about 2:00-2:30am, and I am giggling. Actually, it is more of a belly laugh that I am trying to smother in my pillow so as to not wake up my wife. Sound in theory, not practicle as I am fairly large by most people's standards (6'4" tall, around 250 pounds at the time of this story). Needless to say, my wife does wake up as she thinks that we are in the midst of a earthquake. She lays there for awhile trying to figure out what is wrong with me, to which I am oblivious as I am pretty much tickled beyond common sense. Finally, curiosity gets the best of my wife and she asks me what is so funny. So begins the story.

In my dream, I am coming home from another long day at the office. It is obviously spring or summer, as it is still daylight and my assumption is that the time is around 6:30-7:00pm at night. As I pull up, I see my wife and son in the front yard. Curiously enough, my son seems to be holding a baseball bat. I wasn't aware he liked baseball. As I pull into my driveway, my son makes probably the second most famous move for all baseball players: he proceeds to spit a mouthfull of something onto the ground and then dig at it with his shoe. I wasn't aware he watched baseball (like I said, this is a dream). My wife, trying to raise him to have a certain amount of social sophistication, proceeds to make the most famous move of all moms: she starts shaking her finger at him and addresses him in a manner expressing her disapproval of such a "nasty habit" (for added spice, my wife stomps her foot). My son is rather precocious and independent, even in my dreams. He sees me drive up and commences waving to me as if I am the best thing he has seen all day, oblivious to the fact that his mom has taken issue with something he has done. In fact, I doubt her scolding made it past the little peach fuzz on his cute little ears.

Why was this funny? It's a mental image I cherish, and it just is funny. At least to me.

Oh, and for those curious as to what the most famous move a baseball player makes is: scratching yourself in front of a stadium full of people. They do make a powder for that.

Hell, everyone seems to like this pic, so I am putting it on my blog.

Well, let me first start off by stating that the only reason I started this blog is because I had to sign up to leave a comment on another blog one of my co-workers started (for those that are curious- http://supplementyourlife.blogspot.com). After signing up, I spent another 15 minutes registering this website name as it would be a good way for me to make comments with the sole purpose of making me feel better, to get things off my chest as it were. I will not promise to not offend you, nor will I give much credence to your complaints in the event that happens. Also, although I may find your opinions delightful, I must admit to being as likely not to care one way or the other. I am impressed with insightful dialog, and you can actually score cool points by not resorting to IM abbreviations for your comments. If you find that too difficult, save us all a few minutes by not leaving one, as I really don't want to decifer lazy english. These are pretty basic insights into the me that is DHazy, and I reserve the right to further define myself, especially at the expense of your frustrations.