Mr. Mom

As parents of three preschool girls, there comes a time when a break is needed by the primary caregiver. These events leave me alone with the girls at times, so I revert to the emergency backup plan. This is a proven plan that works to divert the girls' attention from the absence of their mother, and make me look like a hero of significant magnitude. Stop number one is a McDonalds where they have a large indoor playground. This step is crucial to success. However, I have learned that for this plan to work successfully, one must not only have an exciting event in the beginning, but also have something left for the end.

This plan allows for some routine errand running, etc. in between the high points of the evening. Recently, I was even able to get them excited to go to Lowes (they have carts that look like race cars). After our evening out, I had one more trick up my sleeve – a slumber party. We moved the beds and air mattress around for our party in the girls' room and had our snack of grapes and cheese curls. Another key to success is getting them good and tired before attempting to settle down to sleep. Pop in a movie, and they all fall asleep before it is over. The plan worked to perfection and a good time was had by all.

These events provide plenty of humorous/embarrassing moments, such as taking all the girls to the bathroom. A man is standing at a urinal, and to be sure everyone is being polite, one of the girls loudly informs the others, “don’t stand there and stare at him!” He quickly leaves without looking at anyone. Later, we are playing Memory and one declares that she “is the best Memory player in the world.” Hmm! Maybe we should cut back on the compliments. Once we were checking out at the library, when one of them noticed the clerk’s tattoos. The question was asked (very loudly I might add), “Daddy, why did he write on himself?” Oh for a hole to crawl into.

Injury is always a concern. I am currently nursing a burn on my elbow from a twisty, tubular slide I went down. Mostly though, I am nursing a bruised ego.

February (from a Northerner’s perspective)

Everyone must hate February. The poor selection of holidays should be our first clue. Groundhog Day, President’s Day, Valentine’s Day.

Just how drunk were the ones that came up Groundhog Day? I can picture two guys at a bar in some cold state like Michigan or Minnesota, getting bored with the long winter nights. They finally run out of things to talk about, and decide to invent a holiday. Think about this. A groundhog is considered a pest in most places. A groundhog hibernates from October to March or April. February is a boring month. Winter is cold. People are crazy. Combine all that, and ta-da – you have Groundhog Day!

As month of the year go, February is the third verse of a hymn. That month you really want to skip and get on with things. January has some leftover excitement of the holidays, and winter is just starting to get old, but then comes February and you are smack dab in the middle of winter with no quick exit. March has hopes of spring, and shows us glimpses of it, but February is firmly mired in the snow, cold, rain, mud cycle of winter.

President’s Day is nice for federal employees who get an extra Monday off. For the rest of us, it is just another day when we bundle up to go get the mail, and as we look into the empty mailbox, we remember that indeed it is February and we should have worn more clothes to go outside, and oh, today is President’s Day, and there is no mail service. Bummer!

Since everyone is staying inside in February, Hallmark decided that Valentine’s Day would be an excellent way to improve profits. A husband/boyfriend dare not forget Valentine’s Day. It’s not like he can go outside and hang out in the back yard until things quiet down again. He has to face the music if he forgets. He must get the card, chocolate, roses, and wouldn’t you know, Hallmark has it all. He can even pickup a teddy bear as a bonus while he shops. For those who are not in the husband/boyfriend category, Valentine’s Day is a bummer enough without going to Hallmark.

If life offered a fast forward and rewind button, my Februarys would be even shorter.

Car Insurance

Everywhere I turn, I am bombarded by their advertising. There is a giant green lizard on a billboard telling me how much money I can save by switching my car insurance. The glossy ad in a magazine shows how great this company’s agents are, so great that you would want them as your neighbor. Are you in good hands, another asks? We are reminded how short life is by another well-intentioned company. Billboards, mailings, newspapers, magazines, tv, radio, internet, no means of advertising is overlooked by the insurance industry.

I researched my annual auto insurance costs. I pay a whopping $180 per year to insure my vehicle. The green lizard with a British accent says I could save $27/year (15%) for 15 minutes of my time. So that would take my car insurance down to $153. After switching to Geico, I would switch to Allstate. According to Allstate’s advertising, they save Geico customers an average of $581/yr. If they want to send me $428/yr., I will not turn it down. If I want someone who is on my side, Nationwide says they can help. Plus, by switching to Nationwide, they can save me up to $523/yr. Cha-Ching! That would bring my yearly car insurance income to $951. Next up are the good neighbors. State Farm says their average savings is $489/yr. Things are looking up. I can always use an extra $1440/yr.

Now if I can only find 100 more auto insurance companies to switch to, I can retire.

The Fountain of Youth

“Life is short, stay awake for it”

(Caribou Coffee cup)

Every November since 1937, my father has had a birthday. This year it will 72 years. Ever since I have known him, he has been an early riser. Dad was often the last one to bed in the evening and easily the first one up in the morning. His average rising time was/is around 4am. I don’t think he ever used an alarm clock either (or a pillow for that matter). This quality/genetic defect did not get passed on to me.

I would guess Dad’s average night consists of 5 hours of sleep. Most experts recommend that adults get 7-8 hours of sleep per day. Let’s be conservative and say that he has gained 2 hours every day since the age of 18. The numbers are staggering. 2,365,200 extra minutes; 39,420 extra hours; 1642.50 extra days; 234.64 extra weeks, 54.75 extra months, 4.5 extra years.

Rip Van Winkle he is not. Dad inadvertently found the fountain of youth. Many people try to add years to their life through exercise, diet, etc. If they do add years to their life, those years are tacked on to the end of their life. Dad’s method added years to the prime of his life, and who of us would not want that? It is the ideal fountain of youth, although the medical community does not endorse it.

Dad has not wasted that extra time either. He has used that time to compose music, write poetry, write high school curriculum on various subjects, and become an expert in the field of education. I have always wondered how he had the time to do everything he did, but now I know. His life is an inspiration to me.

So I will wish him a happy 72^nd birthday knowing he has lived 76 years worth of life.

Maybe I will stop using a pillow as well.

Pets

Baseball has the Steroid Era. The earth has the Ice Age. American muscle cars defined the auto industry in the late 60’s to early 70’s. The list is endless. Families have “stages” as well. It seems that our family has entered the “Pet Era.”

This era dawned anew in July with the arrival of three kittens – Rocky, Whiskers, and Pete. Rocky, being the adventurous one, decided the neighbor’s porch is a wonderful place to hang out. His influential personality soon convinced his siblings to join him in his daring escapades. It paid off for them, since the neighbors fell in love with them, let them into their house (along with their 15 cats), fed them, and gave them a warm place to sleep. We tried our best to woo them back, but to no avail. Our outdoor accommodations were no contest to the personal suite they had access to.

In September the rabbits arrived. Two of them, one black, one gray. Two females (we hope). The greatest thing ever (since the kittens). We did better with the accommodations this time. We set up the cage, and I built a nice box for them, as well as a frame to hold their dishes. Excitement was running high. They were well fed and cared for. For about two days. Now our daughter and I have a daily exchange that goes something like this:

Me: “Did you feed the rabbits today?”

She: “No. There were too many ladybugs outside and my boots are muddy.” (or similar excuses/variations)

Me: “I’ll go out with you now.”

She: “Well, I need to brush my baby’s hair, and it is cold outside.” (or similar excuses/variations)

She: “You can just go feed them without me.”

After 5-10 minutes of discussion, we go out and feed them.

Once it starts snowing and getting really cold, this will become a half hour process I am afraid. And I will do it myself.

Maybe the neighbors would like a couple of rabbits?

Maybe several chickens would be nice pets for us…or a pet rock.

Lazy Man's Garden Part II

“You get what you pay for.”

“There is no such thing as a free lunch.”

Both of these sayings apply to my garden this year. In a previous post I chronicled my gardening life, and my wonderful idea this year for maximum gardening enjoyment with minimal maintenance efforts (container gardening). It seemed like a good idea at the time.

Things started out perfectly. I filled my containers with potting soil. Later, I noticed the bag said, “Not For Use In Containers!” I was sure this was talking about other containers and not the kind I was using (old softener salt barrels and 5 gallon buckets). My plants grew beautifully. I fertilized, watered (sometimes), and pruned. One of my tomato plants was especially impressive. Ha ha, “Not For Use In Containers!” Ha ha! Even the carrots grew, despite the way they were treated by the invading cats. The weeding was easy and minimal. Low maintenance, high yield, perfect!

Except for the high yield part. As the plants began to produce, I noticed something; the size and quantity of the vegetables was quite a bit smaller than usual. The four tomato plants gave us enough to keep a fresh supply on hand, the peppers…well, we got about three peppers per plant. We had enough pole beans for one meal (about 4 servings), and the carrots were eaten before they made the refrigerator.

Container gardening is convenient and low maintenance, and best suited for the person who only wants a few fresh items throughout the summer. If you are expecting to do any preserving, container gardening is not for you.

I don’t know if the wrong soil made the difference or the size of the containers. My theory is that the size of the containers limited the size of the plants. For example, if you put a goldfish in a bowl, it stays small; however, put that goldfish in pond and you will soon have a sizeable fish. Thus, what is true for a goldfish must be true of a tomato plant. I am quite certain that the wrong dirt had nothing to do with it.

“Not For Use In Containers!” Ha ha!

Maybe I will try raised beds next year.

Of Dogs...and Cats

I like dogs. I have owned dogs most of my life. Currently, we do not have a dog, since in the winter, Misty died very suddenly and unexpectedly. She was replaced a month ago…with three little kittens. This is due to the lack of testosterone at our house. I have the lone male vote in the house against four female votes. That is a subject in itself…

I don’t mind the kittens right now, in fact, they are enjoyable to watch. They are very playful and chase each other all over the place. I do not enjoy the neighbor’s cats, who have discovered the food bowl and have decided that the deck would be a wonderful place to hang out. Of their twenty plus cats, about five are developing this habit. I guess I need to be happy that not all of them have adopted the deck as home.

I like dogs…most of the time. This past weekend, we spent three nights camping at a state park. I could not believe the throng of canines that came along as well. Just in the campsites around ours were an American Bulldog, three Pugs, two Australian Shepherds, two Beagles, and the smallest 7 week old puppy I have ever seen. We routinely saw two Great Danes (think small horses) being walked, as well as a German Shepherd that required two full-sized humans to control it. I would estimate that of the 300 campsites, about half of them had a dog(s) along.

I like dogs…most of the time. I do not like Beagles that go crazy every time another dog goes by (especially during the night), which turns out to be quite often, when there are limited places to walk a dog. Actually, I don't really like Beagles at all.

It was suggested that we go around the campground during the night and loose all the dogs, just to see what happens.

I still like dogs, and someday, we will have another one, if only to keep the cats at bay.