Where Does the Time Go?

Sometimes it is hard to sit down and write. I started this blog, thinking, hoping, that one of the best results would be, that I'd hone in on my my writing skills and my discipline....except I think my writing got worse and my snapshots got better.

Another Round of Reasons Why I Haven't Written?

1. It's still 80 degrees and Sunny at 8pm. Even at 8:30 it is still pretty bright and warm.

That usually means we haven't eaten dinner yet and the kids are still awake. Then blame the NBA Finals, Baseball, Sportscenter, NASCAR, The French Open (who knew the time difference?) Plus the Red Sox have been on FL television, which means it is 11pm or later before I know it, and then I wake up at 3am with one of those info-mercials on TV about "extend-zing one's manhood," if you know what I mean...and I just hope and pray my wife doesn't walk out just then for a glass of water, just as I am waking up, thinking I've been awake this whole time and this is actually what I am watching at 3am, all alone on the couch in my jammies without any underwear on.... When you are worried about stuff like this, who has time to write?

Where does the time go?

2. David does not breath between sentences. Not being able to get a word in edgewise and every other word is still Poopie-Butt is actually exhausting. Where does the time go?

3. Matthew is walking. Matthew likes to go around the house and one item at a time, pick them up and bring them to me and say, "Thank You." You should see his smile. I pile them up and then do the same thing back to him. Where does the time go?

4 & 5. We have a garden. We have a garden that needs water...that needs Miracle Gro Tomato Food from milk jug number 1... that needs Miracle Grow Singles for Vegetables from milk jug number 2...that needs Organicide Bug Killer from milk jug number 3. Yet we have worms. Inchworms or tomato worms or whatever the hell you want to call them. The leaves look like swiss cheese. I pull off worms in the morning, I pull of worms in the evening, and then again before I go to bed. Where do they come from? How do I get rid of them? Poor Nana's Garden. I'm trying, I'm really trying. Where does the time go?

6. With Nana gone and two kids now in Daycare, it's like taking an Instant-Poverty-Pill. It is amazing how expensive daycare is, and I know you've probably heard it from me already, but as much as it costs, you'd think they are spending their days at the Playboy Mansion. We have friends in the same boat. What are the answers? We just don't know. Where does the Money go?

7. We all made a bet - with Matthew going back to Daycare, I said, "Two Weeks - Two weeks and Matthew is home with an ear infection..." I was scoffed at. I'm not actually sure what that means, but I heard a sound, and I thought, "That sounds like scoffing." Turns out, I lost that bet. Yup. Within ONE fricken week, the kid is put on anti-biotics for two infected ears. A week later, he's got Croup - that horse cough that originates deep within his chest cavity and forces one to miss another two days of expensive Playboy Mansion Tuition. Joy. His nose is still running to this day. I look over in the morning and he's blowing bubbles out his nose. Big ones. I 'm proud of him, but nonetheless. Who's the one making scoffing sounds now?!

8. I get home tired, Michele gets home tired... and the kids? Wired. Sometimes I hate words that rhyme. I haven't swung a golf club in over a year. Where does the time go?

9. Friends. The best reason to move to the beach is so all your friends will visit. My Gramp used to joke that you found out who your best friends were, when you bought a pick-up truck. But moving to the beach has been a blessing; having friends and family actually use us as an excuse to come see us is a great thing....oh wait a minute...is it really the beach? Not even a little bit us?

We love having friends come visit. JeffO is here for consecutive weekends with his family - they have two absolutely beautiful, precious girls - precious that is, until you hear them playing baseball in the front yard...heehee - It has been so much fun having them here. Looking ahead, almost every weekend has something planned from now til September. We don't mind that. We like that.

And then suddenly it becomes Monday morning again... Where does the time go?

So there it is - my futile excuse for not writing in a week.

On top of that, my book light is broken and now I can't even read at 3am when I am wide awake and tossing and turning and thinking about bills and those other bills and those upcoming bills and past bills...but...most importantly...tossing and turning and thinking about what should I blog about....??

sheesh...

...Notice I didn't even include any snapshots in this blog.

See?

Where does the time go?

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Graduation Day

David graduated from VPK on Thursday. He is only four years old, cannot add 2+2, but evidently, this needed a ceremony and a cap and gown and cake and punch and parents needed to miss work.

David doesn't get it either...

Thursday was the "Last Day of School."

You mean, I don't go to school tomorrow?

Yes, You do. But it's not school anymore, they call it Summer Camp.

His eyes bug out big. I have to sleep there?

No. I'll drop you off and Mommy will pick you up.

Just like school?

Yes.

Will my teacher Miss Jennifer be there?

Yes.

Just like school?

Yes.

Will I learn things? And do art?

Yes.

Just like school?

Yes.

And play? And learn about spiders and tornadoes?

Yes.

Just like school?

Yes.

Um, Daddy?

I know, I know, go ask your Mother. I don't get it either.

I know I'll take some heat for this, and maybe this is harsh, but looking at the value of his education, this wasn't school, this was Daycare for heaven's sake!

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His graduating Class of 2009 had six boys and two girls. He's been bitten by two of them, bit one of them himself and went potty with one of the girls and got in trouble for pulling his pants down in front of her. Seems it is a close-knit community here at the beach.

Oh well, at least he graduated.

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I'll share a few pics from the over emotionally charged event of a lifetime:

There's our handsome boy! All grown up!

The graduating, handsome, all grown up boy even led the class in the Pledge of Allegiance, a particularly proud Dadman did notice. He got to hold the American Flag all by himself he told us later, like we weren't even there.

Deep down, sincerely, I am smiling and proud. OK?

Make that picture as small as you can, a particular Mom said to me.

David was lucky to have Miss Jennifer as his teacher. I think she had pretty high hopes at the beginning of the school year. David really likes her and says, "Miss Jennifer is nice to me."

When it was his time, David did a "Monster Walk" with stiff legs and arms outstretched when he went to get his Diploma...

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I am quite proud of him. He's a sweet kid, a silly kid, an inquisitive kid. He is a puzzle-freak. He is still shy, but loves an audience. He's handsome. It's really the first time I've seem him in front of all his classmates, aside from just playing on the playground. But yes, as a whole, - the girls are way smarter and more mature at this age!

I've said it before, but it keeps getting more apparent - Being Four is an amazing journey. May God continue to bless his little soul.

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Wait....

Yikes, oh boy, it appears it was my kid who spiked the punch...

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The Pacifier Hunt

The Pacifier Hunt.

An unspoken reality among frantic parents at bedtime.

The Search for Matthew's Pacifier...



There are no two things more important in life.



It is not under the couch.



It is not under the loveseat.


At work when we lose something, we argue whether to pray to St. Ignatius or St. Anthony. I say it is St. Ignatius.



...We can't fricken find it under the fricken entertainment center.


...After about an hour and half, seriously, it is amost 10pm, still no luck.

Now it has become The Great American F*n Pacifier Hunt.

...We emptied this like three fricken times. We shook the crib out. We tore apart the playpen.

...No. It is not in the flowers with the police car and the geckos.



...And, Hell No, of course it can't happen to be in the ferns with the fricken Lego piece.



I hear Michele scream out for like the 10th time, "We have 17 fricken Pacifiers and we can't find ONE??!!"


Never answer a woman using that tone. "Sixteen," I yell back. I thought I was helping. "Nana found one in her purse when she went to Texas!" I swear I heard glass shatter.


DAVIDDDDDDDDDDDD!!!!!!!!!!!!!! What the h*ll is all this we found under your bed????????????????????



......I stare at the toilet. I've been in here at least 3 flippen times, looking through his tub toys. I glance back at the toilet... He must have. I cannot think of any other possibility. There is no hope. I am sure he's flushed it, and it is halfway to Miami by now.

I have emptied the garbage. I have emptied my truck. I have lifted every major appliance and every piece of heavy furniture within our entire household. I have screamed at my wife. I have screamed at the dog. Michele might even be on the roof, I just don't know.




Suddenly I realize there is an absence of noise. Silence. I hit my head from under our bed.

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I hear an excited, taunting whisper..."Who's your Hero Now?!...."

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Michele is my Hero.

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But do I think it is time we hire a housekeeper....