There are several tails attached to this beast, and I'm seeing that they're being addressed in clever ways these days. When it comes to this topic, I have several questions. How do you introduce firearm safety to young children? My meaning here is not only one of having children shoot so they know how to control it, but also one of avoidance for the younger children. How do you provide access to older kids so that they can become part of home defense? Can you safely provide access to an older kid, but also keep younger kids away from them?
Some of my kids are still too young to even sit down with them and give them an Eddie Eagle talk, but two of my kids are old enough for instruction, but are not really ready for live fire. In my day, my father and/or some of his trusted friends would give me firearm safety instruction, followed up with some .22 rimfire shooting. That was safe and effective, but the airsoft and pellet gun sounds like it's overall the best way to get kids trained on firearm safety. Some gun bloggers you may have heard about did just that, and provided an environment with many children at one time learning gun safety and how to shoot. Perfect! I missed out on the opportunity, but I plan on having my kids involved for the next one.
On the other end of the spectrum, having a well thought out plan for your older kids to defend themselves or the house while you're away is priceless. Here's a great example of a well executed plan that fortunately didn't include gunfire. Having a codeword that is only used during a no-B.S. moment of danger is good policy, and having your children disciplined enough to be trusted alone with access to firearms is what you want the end result to be. I have a long way to go before that happens in my house, but I pay close attention to those with older kids and how they do things.
Ultimately, you have to have some sort of plan. It's reckless and irresponsible to have firearms in the home and not tell your children about them. Most of the friends that I have grew up with guns in their house, and none of them had any accidents or injuries, and none of the guns were hidden. I can guarantee that you can't hide a gun from a kid for long. Education is the only way to fly, you just have to start.
Showing posts with label Kids. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Kids. Show all posts
Monday, June 4, 2012
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
Life will not be normal for a few weeks
My youngest son is recovering from his trip down the stairs the other day, and the bone doc told us this morning to expect him to be on the mend for around four weeks. This weekend was very rigorous, as baby CTone has enjoyed his mobility for some time now, and is not accepting the fact that he is now limited. What that basically means is that he was held most of the weekend, and the whole time he was trying his hardest to squirm away. And he's huge, and heavy, for a ten-month old, so when he tries to launch himself from my arms for hours at a time it really wears me down.
Man, I'm tired. . . . .
ETA: I'll let the little guy explain to you how he feels:
Life ain't so bad!
Man, I'm tired. . . . .
ETA: I'll let the little guy explain to you how he feels:
Life ain't so bad!
Saturday, May 26, 2012
Stairway to the danger zone
About two Hours into my Memorial day weekend yesterday, things took an interesting turn when my ten month old went down a full flight of stairs for the first time ALL BY HIMSELF!!!! YIPPY!!! Afterwords I decided to take him for a fun filled adventure to this place called ER Land. Unfortunately, they weren't offering face painting, but they were offering doses of radiation where they took neat-oh pictures of his bones and brain! Yayyyy!! Fun times.
Here's the beast with 3.1 teeth wearing a stylish arm adornament:
Kids fashion these days. . .
The final toll for his stairwell adventure was a goose egg on his forehead, complete with carpet burn, and a broken right arm. Looks like his newly found mobility will be limited for a month. It's Blue Moons and movies for us this weekend. I hope y'all have a great weekend for this Memorial Day! My heart goes out to all the Veterans who did the hard thing, I appreciate your sacrifice!
Kids fashion these days. . .
The final toll for his stairwell adventure was a goose egg on his forehead, complete with carpet burn, and a broken right arm. Looks like his newly found mobility will be limited for a month. It's Blue Moons and movies for us this weekend. I hope y'all have a great weekend for this Memorial Day! My heart goes out to all the Veterans who did the hard thing, I appreciate your sacrifice!
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Who says torture isn't effective?
Last night I was setting dinner on the table for the kids and was short one fork, so I went to the drawer to get one, but there were none. Remembering the dishes in the dishwasher were clean, I reached in there to fetch one and when I did, a tine from one of the forks slipped about a quarter of an inch up under my thumbnail. In the space of about ten seconds afterwords, I confessed to all sorts of things, though I'm reasonably sure I didn't give up any cuss words. I had an audience of impressionable people, and I've been making a genuine attempt to not swear anymore. I could have done better with my temper, though.
Thursday, March 22, 2012
Carrying with kids
This video is the first I've ever seen on the subject of carrying a firearm while out and about with kids, which is something I deal with almost every day. I'm not about to make a video, but I'll take a minute or two to pour out my thoughts.
When most folks consider being armed in public and mentally rehearse how they would act if a squad of jihadi-joes in full shemagh attacked the Piggly Wiggly they're shopping in, they no doubt think their reaction is going to be all VTAC and highspeed. That's all fine and great, and practicing the tactical reload stuff with that drop leg rig while maintaining cover and full magazine retention is awesome, but the reality is that a great deal of folks are not in the realm of any of that. I'm a full on walking arsenal when I go out for the day with my family, and train fairly often, and I can say with absolute certainty that I have zero use for the Jack Bauer stuff. But I live in a different world.
First thing to point out about being out with kids, especially little children or toddlers, is that your sidearm may not (probably won't be) accessible at all times. You can have the finest and fastest kydex that money can buy concealed with an awesome Arc'teryx jacket, and you won't be able to get to it when the arm you typically draw with is holding a 20 lb bag of drool. You can carry your kid on the opposite hip from your weapon, but sooner or later you're going to switch arms for some reason, probably when you're fishing for your keys three steps from your car (when you're potentially the most vulnerable to predatory scumbags), and there you are basically unarmed. Practicing drawing with your support hand is good to go, and I would encourage learning to do that, but having a separate small auto or revolver available for your support hand would be even better. It's almost as if J-frames and Kel-Tecs were designed to ride comfortably in a pocket for this specific reason; I don't know and I can't say for sure.
To complicate things: you're holding your kid with your support arm so that your shooting arm is free to access your heater in case the Hostiles decide to make your day, but didn't you walk into that store to buy something? Which hand were you planning on carrying that case of Keystone Light in? Where are your car keys? Are you alone, or do you have a spouse or family member with you? Do you only have one kid?
That last point is crucial for folks like me; I have three toddlers and a baby, and when I'm alone with them it can be really tough. When I go to the store, I have one shopping cart completely dedicated to kid transport, and I still have one on the ground holding my hand. If I need to pick up lots of stuff, I'll have two carts. Two or three kids is basically just as hard because you have to look after them first and foremost. And to further muddy the water, all that "grabbing cover" and "limiting your exposure" that you learned about during that weekend gunfighting academy -- are you really going to break from your stroller to find cover, leaving your heathen spawn crying in the middle of the parking lot or medicine aisle? Oh yeah, we can't do that, huh? Now think about this hard: if you are unfortunate enough to end up in a gunfight with some banger while you're near your kids, are you going to cover them with your body or move away to try and draw fire away from them (assuming that in the moment you have mental ability to calculate the choice)? I've thought about it, and in the end I find the answer to be in what bodyguards do in a protective detail. They put their body in between who they're protecting and whatever the biggest threat is. I was watching a show on the Secret Service on NatGeo or something the other day, and one agent explained how they were trained to "get big" when taking fire in order to catch more incoming rounds with their body; and sure enough, while showing the video playback from when Hinkley tried to shoot Reagan, one agent did just that at the first crack of the assassin's gun, making himself a larger target. Amazing. That agent absorbed a round that could very well have ended Reagan's life. I note too that "getting big" is the opposite of military and other doctrine on surviving a gunfight, which teaches you to "get small." So there's that to think about.
Next up to talk about is awareness. This is even more important when you have distractions, like the screaming thing in the stroller you're pushing. I always always always have a plan when I leave a store, and the car keys are already out and in my hand before crossing the parking lot or wherever. Standing there in the dark next to your car is not the time to be fumbling with anything, so be ready before you walk out. The kids are the very first priority; get them in the car first, and then load your stuff. If there's some sort of danger, you can drive off without your stuff. It's just stuff and can be replaced. Pay attention to your surroundings. One good thing about having kids is that no yayhoos approach me anymore to ask for smokes or money; I guess they assume I have none because I just spent all mine on the visible boxes of diapers.
When I go out with the kids without my wife to say a mall or large store, I park right next to a shopping cart return with at least one cart, and I typically park way out in the middle of the parking lot where there's no other cars around. Scumbags use cover and concealment, and I'd rather see them coming from far off. Being next to a cart return means I don't have to wander away from the car to return it when I'm done. If I'm carrying a kid in one arm and stuff in the other, the kid goes on the support arm side because I'll drop whatever is in my strong side hand if I need to. When getting gas, or at any time when the kids are in the vehicle and I'm not, all the doors are unlocked, that way I can get in from any part of the vehicle if I need to. I will not get into an argument or pissing match with anyone when out with my family (or by myself; it's good policy). I don't need to prove that I'm a man, so I'm not going to risk getting into a fistfight where I can potentially be knocked out, allowing the dude who hit me to ride off in my car with my kids. This is doubly true if you have a kid in one of the slings the lady in the linked video has. I know there are some who have their heart set on knife fighting their way through the Tangos because they ran their FDE pistol dry stacking bodies, but try that with your son in an ERGO and you'll be sorry. The fist fight scenario is a heavy argument to throw at naysayers who tell you you don't need a gun because a real man only needs his hands. A real man would see clearly that fighting while holding a child is a no-go. On top of that, I know highly trained, physically fit, bona fide badass and very large men that have been maimed by one lucky punch that got through and connected, and that ain't gonna be me.
Violent flash mobs: I haven't heard about any of these in awhile, but they present a challenge if you have kids. With one kid, you can probably pick them up and run off -- hopefully. If you're alone with two or more kids, that's not going to be an option, so I'm of the opinion that my kids are going to get stuffed in a closet or car or off the beaten path somewhere while I try to fend off any savages. If it comes down to it, I hope one shot would be all it takes to disperse the crowd, but I think being prepared for the worst is important. That definitely wouldn't be the time I'd want to be standing there with a J-frame and five extra rounds on a stripper clip. A good fighting auto is a must, with at least one spare reload; two if I'm going out for the day and I have adequate time to prepare.
Lastly, unless I'm in the store, you won't finding me dickering around with my cellphone. I'm paying attention to everything, and I don't tarry in parking lots to browse facebook on my phone or call my mom about the burn on my finger. I can do that at home. I think when my kids are a little older, we'll discuss how to work as a team when out and about, with a "code word" or other indicator that there's danger or to leave the area. By then at least some of my kids will be a bit more useful. Right now, my oldest is the only one who can get the seatbelt clicked on her own, while everyone else needs help for everything.
(H/T The Firearm Blog)
When most folks consider being armed in public and mentally rehearse how they would act if a squad of jihadi-joes in full shemagh attacked the Piggly Wiggly they're shopping in, they no doubt think their reaction is going to be all VTAC and highspeed. That's all fine and great, and practicing the tactical reload stuff with that drop leg rig while maintaining cover and full magazine retention is awesome, but the reality is that a great deal of folks are not in the realm of any of that. I'm a full on walking arsenal when I go out for the day with my family, and train fairly often, and I can say with absolute certainty that I have zero use for the Jack Bauer stuff. But I live in a different world.
First thing to point out about being out with kids, especially little children or toddlers, is that your sidearm may not (probably won't be) accessible at all times. You can have the finest and fastest kydex that money can buy concealed with an awesome Arc'teryx jacket, and you won't be able to get to it when the arm you typically draw with is holding a 20 lb bag of drool. You can carry your kid on the opposite hip from your weapon, but sooner or later you're going to switch arms for some reason, probably when you're fishing for your keys three steps from your car (when you're potentially the most vulnerable to predatory scumbags), and there you are basically unarmed. Practicing drawing with your support hand is good to go, and I would encourage learning to do that, but having a separate small auto or revolver available for your support hand would be even better. It's almost as if J-frames and Kel-Tecs were designed to ride comfortably in a pocket for this specific reason; I don't know and I can't say for sure.
To complicate things: you're holding your kid with your support arm so that your shooting arm is free to access your heater in case the Hostiles decide to make your day, but didn't you walk into that store to buy something? Which hand were you planning on carrying that case of Keystone Light in? Where are your car keys? Are you alone, or do you have a spouse or family member with you? Do you only have one kid?
That last point is crucial for folks like me; I have three toddlers and a baby, and when I'm alone with them it can be really tough. When I go to the store, I have one shopping cart completely dedicated to kid transport, and I still have one on the ground holding my hand. If I need to pick up lots of stuff, I'll have two carts. Two or three kids is basically just as hard because you have to look after them first and foremost. And to further muddy the water, all that "grabbing cover" and "limiting your exposure" that you learned about during that weekend gunfighting academy -- are you really going to break from your stroller to find cover, leaving your heathen spawn crying in the middle of the parking lot or medicine aisle? Oh yeah, we can't do that, huh? Now think about this hard: if you are unfortunate enough to end up in a gunfight with some banger while you're near your kids, are you going to cover them with your body or move away to try and draw fire away from them (assuming that in the moment you have mental ability to calculate the choice)? I've thought about it, and in the end I find the answer to be in what bodyguards do in a protective detail. They put their body in between who they're protecting and whatever the biggest threat is. I was watching a show on the Secret Service on NatGeo or something the other day, and one agent explained how they were trained to "get big" when taking fire in order to catch more incoming rounds with their body; and sure enough, while showing the video playback from when Hinkley tried to shoot Reagan, one agent did just that at the first crack of the assassin's gun, making himself a larger target. Amazing. That agent absorbed a round that could very well have ended Reagan's life. I note too that "getting big" is the opposite of military and other doctrine on surviving a gunfight, which teaches you to "get small." So there's that to think about.
Next up to talk about is awareness. This is even more important when you have distractions, like the screaming thing in the stroller you're pushing. I always always always have a plan when I leave a store, and the car keys are already out and in my hand before crossing the parking lot or wherever. Standing there in the dark next to your car is not the time to be fumbling with anything, so be ready before you walk out. The kids are the very first priority; get them in the car first, and then load your stuff. If there's some sort of danger, you can drive off without your stuff. It's just stuff and can be replaced. Pay attention to your surroundings. One good thing about having kids is that no yayhoos approach me anymore to ask for smokes or money; I guess they assume I have none because I just spent all mine on the visible boxes of diapers.
When I go out with the kids without my wife to say a mall or large store, I park right next to a shopping cart return with at least one cart, and I typically park way out in the middle of the parking lot where there's no other cars around. Scumbags use cover and concealment, and I'd rather see them coming from far off. Being next to a cart return means I don't have to wander away from the car to return it when I'm done. If I'm carrying a kid in one arm and stuff in the other, the kid goes on the support arm side because I'll drop whatever is in my strong side hand if I need to. When getting gas, or at any time when the kids are in the vehicle and I'm not, all the doors are unlocked, that way I can get in from any part of the vehicle if I need to. I will not get into an argument or pissing match with anyone when out with my family (or by myself; it's good policy). I don't need to prove that I'm a man, so I'm not going to risk getting into a fistfight where I can potentially be knocked out, allowing the dude who hit me to ride off in my car with my kids. This is doubly true if you have a kid in one of the slings the lady in the linked video has. I know there are some who have their heart set on knife fighting their way through the Tangos because they ran their FDE pistol dry stacking bodies, but try that with your son in an ERGO and you'll be sorry. The fist fight scenario is a heavy argument to throw at naysayers who tell you you don't need a gun because a real man only needs his hands. A real man would see clearly that fighting while holding a child is a no-go. On top of that, I know highly trained, physically fit, bona fide badass and very large men that have been maimed by one lucky punch that got through and connected, and that ain't gonna be me.
Violent flash mobs: I haven't heard about any of these in awhile, but they present a challenge if you have kids. With one kid, you can probably pick them up and run off -- hopefully. If you're alone with two or more kids, that's not going to be an option, so I'm of the opinion that my kids are going to get stuffed in a closet or car or off the beaten path somewhere while I try to fend off any savages. If it comes down to it, I hope one shot would be all it takes to disperse the crowd, but I think being prepared for the worst is important. That definitely wouldn't be the time I'd want to be standing there with a J-frame and five extra rounds on a stripper clip. A good fighting auto is a must, with at least one spare reload; two if I'm going out for the day and I have adequate time to prepare.
Lastly, unless I'm in the store, you won't finding me dickering around with my cellphone. I'm paying attention to everything, and I don't tarry in parking lots to browse facebook on my phone or call my mom about the burn on my finger. I can do that at home. I think when my kids are a little older, we'll discuss how to work as a team when out and about, with a "code word" or other indicator that there's danger or to leave the area. By then at least some of my kids will be a bit more useful. Right now, my oldest is the only one who can get the seatbelt clicked on her own, while everyone else needs help for everything.
(H/T The Firearm Blog)
Monday, March 19, 2012
Long weekend
I left work on Friday with full intentions of hitting the range while it was sunny, but that never happened. This asshole I've reluctantly known for half my life, who lives in dilapidation on the corner of L-5 and S-1, decided to come and stay with me for the last month or so, against my wishes, and had annoyed me to the point that I instead raced home to hang out with my friend Jack - a true Gentleman. Jack brought me much needed comfort, and I know I'll be hanging out with him for some time until I get this problem with said asshole sorted out.
On top of all that, all of my kids have the latest sickness to be making its rounds in the form of high fevers and super-snot. Things went bad last night when the kids' fevers spiked without warning within an hour's time, and as I was imersing them in semi-lukewarm bathwater to quickly cool them down, I had a sudden nasty allergic reaction to the turkey burgers I ate a half an hour before (I've made them exactly the same since the begining of time). I was alone, so I'm frantically swallowing all the meds in my tactical pillcase while texting my brother to please please please get here quick so that if Ana breaks through my defenses and knocks me out, there will be somebody who can pull the kiddos out of the tub. I'm done with this sickness stuff, and I'm done with the damned allergies. And it's not just that my kids are sickly; everyone I know has been fighting the sickness in their kids since fall, and we all bitch about it. I don't remember being in a constant state of sickness when I was a kid, so this has got to be either a government experiment gone horribly wrong or we are in fact in the end times.
Despite all this, I managed to crank out over a hundred beautiful Gooooooooooold Dots over the course of two days, two rounds at a time. My handloading doctrine has been so fine tuned over the last four years that I can maintain a high degree of consistency and quality control even with the constant interuptions from the kids.
6.6 grains of sweet sweet Vihtaviori goodness per24 carat gold nickel plated case:
There's no chance of double charging a case, either; in order to have the room to seat the bullet over one charge, I have to lightly tap the case with my finger for a few seconds to get the powder to settle, kinda like a bag of potato chips.
1.129" is close enough. The varience from one bullet to another can be as much as .008", so you have to accept that you won't get that last digit right where you want it. I'll accept .004" inches of variation in total, or .002" in either direction.
Loading cartridges makes a mess on the bench. Being the neat freak that I am, I have to accept that there's going to be stuff laying around everywhere for awhile.
I learned that my oldest son enjoys watching 24 with me while I'm at the press, which is way cool. My boys also like to help pull the press handle down to seat booooolets, which is good to go as well. In time, I hope to teach them the secret art of accurate cartridge making so they can go forth and win shooting matches.
Lastly, my wife and I started watching The Walking Dead on Netflix this weekend, and we're hooked. Ever since 24 ended, there's not been a whole lot to get my attention on TV, but I'll make an exception for this show. Good stuff.
On top of all that, all of my kids have the latest sickness to be making its rounds in the form of high fevers and super-snot. Things went bad last night when the kids' fevers spiked without warning within an hour's time, and as I was imersing them in semi-lukewarm bathwater to quickly cool them down, I had a sudden nasty allergic reaction to the turkey burgers I ate a half an hour before (I've made them exactly the same since the begining of time). I was alone, so I'm frantically swallowing all the meds in my tactical pillcase while texting my brother to please please please get here quick so that if Ana breaks through my defenses and knocks me out, there will be somebody who can pull the kiddos out of the tub. I'm done with this sickness stuff, and I'm done with the damned allergies. And it's not just that my kids are sickly; everyone I know has been fighting the sickness in their kids since fall, and we all bitch about it. I don't remember being in a constant state of sickness when I was a kid, so this has got to be either a government experiment gone horribly wrong or we are in fact in the end times.
Despite all this, I managed to crank out over a hundred beautiful Gooooooooooold Dots over the course of two days, two rounds at a time. My handloading doctrine has been so fine tuned over the last four years that I can maintain a high degree of consistency and quality control even with the constant interuptions from the kids.
6.6 grains of sweet sweet Vihtaviori goodness per
There's no chance of double charging a case, either; in order to have the room to seat the bullet over one charge, I have to lightly tap the case with my finger for a few seconds to get the powder to settle, kinda like a bag of potato chips.
1.129" is close enough. The varience from one bullet to another can be as much as .008", so you have to accept that you won't get that last digit right where you want it. I'll accept .004" inches of variation in total, or .002" in either direction.
Loading cartridges makes a mess on the bench. Being the neat freak that I am, I have to accept that there's going to be stuff laying around everywhere for awhile.
I learned that my oldest son enjoys watching 24 with me while I'm at the press, which is way cool. My boys also like to help pull the press handle down to seat booooolets, which is good to go as well. In time, I hope to teach them the secret art of accurate cartridge making so they can go forth and win shooting matches.
Lastly, my wife and I started watching The Walking Dead on Netflix this weekend, and we're hooked. Ever since 24 ended, there's not been a whole lot to get my attention on TV, but I'll make an exception for this show. Good stuff.
Saturday, March 3, 2012
Dad World problems
The alternate post title would be: You know you're a dad when . . . .
So my 2 year old is sitting at the table this morning, prosecuting a bowl of Kix for a half an hour; at this point, he's foregone the spoon and has resorted to filling his milk-soaked maw with handfuls of the now soggy cereal, and he's making a mess. A novice parent would treat this problem like you would clear a firearm: immediately take away the source of ammunition (bowl), clear the weapon's chamber (kid's hands), and do a quick function check to confirm all is safe (make sure there's no food left in the kid's mouth that he/she can choke on). Pffft. . . amateurs. The best solution is clearly to add more ammunition! The mess is mostly caused by the excess of milk, which happens because there's not enough cereal left, so the solution is obviously to add a ton more cereal on top to balance everything out! I'm a genius.
When I want silence throughout the house? The answer is not to yell at the kids to shut up, but to hand them what I call 2 minute quiet tokens: Ritz Crackers. Kids love those things. Did you know that when a child's mouth is full of crackers, there's little chance of them screaming or talking? That's a pro-tip. Another option that works wonders on the 1 - 2 year old crowd is to spread Cheerios out on the coffee and end tables, so they have to work at collecting each and every savory morsel, which buys me time for filling my coffee cup.
Loaded diapers? The secret is to prep the clean diaper before hand, and to set out two or three doubled-up sets of wipes. You don't want to be staring down the dirty barrel of the kid while trying to open the new diaper with one hand, and the wipes never come out of the box one at a time. Be prepared.
Baby proofing the house is a must, and buys peace of mind. If I'm going to someone else's home, I do a quick kid proofing before letting the kids wander. And I don't worry if the folks where I'm at get bent out of shape or offended; they don't live with the challenges I do. Even at my parent's house -- I've walked in there several times to find a huge meat clever sitting in the floor which they use to chop kindling for the fire place. A meat clever. You can see the danger in my 3 tear old waving that sucker around like it's the toy Thor hammer he got for Christmas. Yeah, ouch!
I remember the exact moment I realized that I was a veteran dad -- I was by myself in a Wal-Mart or other public venue and there was a woman clutched onto a recalcitrant, thrashing and screaming toddler like her life depended on it. I walked right past her without even noticing what was going on, and as I did I saw about half a dozen people standing there staring at the melee with their shocked faces on. . . . it was then that it even dawned on me that there was a screaming kid being dealt with. Pffft. . . . amateur. The best way to keep little Johny/Jannie from a full on catastrophic meltdown boils down to timing. Wait until the signs of pressure they're showing is approaching critical mass, then take them near (not in) the toy section and hand them each the cheapest toy you think they will enjoy and get back to your shopping business. By the time they're bored with the toys you should be almost home. This may not work so well for women because they go into a store not on a mission with an idea of what their target is. Men go into a store to purposely grab the object they want and pay for it and leave, but I digress. . . .
Yeah, these are dad world problems, and they are of my own doing. I love it, but damn I'm tired.
So my 2 year old is sitting at the table this morning, prosecuting a bowl of Kix for a half an hour; at this point, he's foregone the spoon and has resorted to filling his milk-soaked maw with handfuls of the now soggy cereal, and he's making a mess. A novice parent would treat this problem like you would clear a firearm: immediately take away the source of ammunition (bowl), clear the weapon's chamber (kid's hands), and do a quick function check to confirm all is safe (make sure there's no food left in the kid's mouth that he/she can choke on). Pffft. . . amateurs. The best solution is clearly to add more ammunition! The mess is mostly caused by the excess of milk, which happens because there's not enough cereal left, so the solution is obviously to add a ton more cereal on top to balance everything out! I'm a genius.
When I want silence throughout the house? The answer is not to yell at the kids to shut up, but to hand them what I call 2 minute quiet tokens: Ritz Crackers. Kids love those things. Did you know that when a child's mouth is full of crackers, there's little chance of them screaming or talking? That's a pro-tip. Another option that works wonders on the 1 - 2 year old crowd is to spread Cheerios out on the coffee and end tables, so they have to work at collecting each and every savory morsel, which buys me time for filling my coffee cup.
Loaded diapers? The secret is to prep the clean diaper before hand, and to set out two or three doubled-up sets of wipes. You don't want to be staring down the dirty barrel of the kid while trying to open the new diaper with one hand, and the wipes never come out of the box one at a time. Be prepared.
Baby proofing the house is a must, and buys peace of mind. If I'm going to someone else's home, I do a quick kid proofing before letting the kids wander. And I don't worry if the folks where I'm at get bent out of shape or offended; they don't live with the challenges I do. Even at my parent's house -- I've walked in there several times to find a huge meat clever sitting in the floor which they use to chop kindling for the fire place. A meat clever. You can see the danger in my 3 tear old waving that sucker around like it's the toy Thor hammer he got for Christmas. Yeah, ouch!
I remember the exact moment I realized that I was a veteran dad -- I was by myself in a Wal-Mart or other public venue and there was a woman clutched onto a recalcitrant, thrashing and screaming toddler like her life depended on it. I walked right past her without even noticing what was going on, and as I did I saw about half a dozen people standing there staring at the melee with their shocked faces on. . . . it was then that it even dawned on me that there was a screaming kid being dealt with. Pffft. . . . amateur. The best way to keep little Johny/Jannie from a full on catastrophic meltdown boils down to timing. Wait until the signs of pressure they're showing is approaching critical mass, then take them near (not in) the toy section and hand them each the cheapest toy you think they will enjoy and get back to your shopping business. By the time they're bored with the toys you should be almost home. This may not work so well for women because they go into a store not on a mission with an idea of what their target is. Men go into a store to purposely grab the object they want and pay for it and leave, but I digress. . . .
Yeah, these are dad world problems, and they are of my own doing. I love it, but damn I'm tired.
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
Snotly crew
I can't tell if my kids are just sickly, or have weak immune systems, or are continually getting similar germs that cause this mess, but it has to stop. I'm starting to think the US gov't has chosen my house as some sort of test bed for cold-like viruses. The amount of snot and coughing going on has reached epic proportions, and I feel terrible for my little people because they're so miserable. That, and rocking crying kids to sleep at all hours of the night is taking away from my beauty sleep.
Friday, January 13, 2012
Mark of the Beasts
And behold! I looked, and there before me was the smallest Beast, clothed in a garment made of soft pastel blue linen, fastened with monochrome buttons of doom. He had the power to keep mankind awake for days and days on end, and on his gums were two crowns, razor sharp and white as the stars. Out of his mouth poured drool and partially digested Formula crafted by the inhabitants of the city called Costco, which stained the tunic of whom it contacted.
Then I heard the second Beast say "Dahrglah!" - his speech still bound by the Ninny from Nuk. A giant with sandy blonde hair and fiery blue eyes, wearing a large smile, he rode a horse called Corn Popper, and smell followed with him. His power was to terrify mankind by climbing to the top of everything in his sight, and to consume all the food and all the drink in his path, and to torment with Corn Popper. Then he poured out his bowl onto the land, and soggy Kix filled the carpet and soaked all who were near.
Then I saw the third Beast, and out of his mouth came an endless stream of words, a dialect far beyond his age. He wore a T-shirt and underoos, and wielded a furious temper. His power was to horde all manner of things, and to exhaust mankind with his energy and his words. And I saw the writing on his wall, and under his bed the souls of the crackers and fruit snacks that had been slain by the Beast because he would gather them while the other Beasts slept.
And behold, the fourth Beast! Riding a thousand stuffed stallions, in her hands were colored swords of wax and paper, and her power was to send forth a plague of stickers in all colors and sizes. There was no end to what the stickers adhered to: to the socks of men, and to the bedding, and to the furniture! The fourth Beast's stickers consumed everything, and her wax swords destroyed all the paper and counter-tops throughout the land!
The the two elder Beasts looked upon the four younger Beasts with bloodshot eyes and saw that it was good.
Then I heard the second Beast say "Dahrglah!" - his speech still bound by the Ninny from Nuk. A giant with sandy blonde hair and fiery blue eyes, wearing a large smile, he rode a horse called Corn Popper, and smell followed with him. His power was to terrify mankind by climbing to the top of everything in his sight, and to consume all the food and all the drink in his path, and to torment with Corn Popper. Then he poured out his bowl onto the land, and soggy Kix filled the carpet and soaked all who were near.
Then I saw the third Beast, and out of his mouth came an endless stream of words, a dialect far beyond his age. He wore a T-shirt and underoos, and wielded a furious temper. His power was to horde all manner of things, and to exhaust mankind with his energy and his words. And I saw the writing on his wall, and under his bed the souls of the crackers and fruit snacks that had been slain by the Beast because he would gather them while the other Beasts slept.
And behold, the fourth Beast! Riding a thousand stuffed stallions, in her hands were colored swords of wax and paper, and her power was to send forth a plague of stickers in all colors and sizes. There was no end to what the stickers adhered to: to the socks of men, and to the bedding, and to the furniture! The fourth Beast's stickers consumed everything, and her wax swords destroyed all the paper and counter-tops throughout the land!
The the two elder Beasts looked upon the four younger Beasts with bloodshot eyes and saw that it was good.
Friday, November 18, 2011
&*%$#@ TOYS!!
Toy making dude #1: (Holding up shitty plastic stegosaurus) "HEHEHAHAHAHAHAH! Dads of the world will cry out in lamentations when they step on this toy!
Toy making dude #2: "Dude, stegosaurus didn't have that many spikes on its tail. They had like four or something. Is that. . . .metal?"
#1: (Petting the toy now) "Yeeesss. Yeeeeeessssss! Tuuuuungsteennnnn! I've put tungsten in the tail spikes, and razor blades in its back plates!"
#2: "You're gonna get us fired. Why don't you just stick with using plastic like we're supposed to? It's just supposed to be a simple toy."
#1: "But tungsten will penetrate even the toughest callous! Perforate the feetses, it will!"
#2: "That's not right, man; that's going to fuck somebody up! You should be locked in prison for the rest of your creepy, screwed up life! You're insane!"
#1: "MHOOHWHOOHWAAHAAHAAHAAHAA!!!"
And there I was, on my ass on the carpet in the dark holding my wounded foot. With my head on the floor, tears were welling up in my eyes, which were shut tight like a lock; stars speckling the blackness. I had fallen prey to the toymaker when I stepped right onto his cruel sadistic trap with bare feet.
"Curse you, plastic moldsman!" -- Dwayne. LaFontant! From the movie Over the Hedge
I haven't stepped on a plastic dinosaur in a few weeks, but I did have one of those PETS toys take me down a few days ago, and yesterday morning I walked right into a large plastic plaything in the dark in the hallway while holding a kid, almost planting my face into a wall. I've fallen more times than I can count due to toys on the floor, and last night I told my wonderful wife that we need a 35% reduction in toys to make room for the ones we will be getting next month. My idea was met with the comment to not bother, that the kids won't be getting many toys this year, which is precisely what I have heard every year. I'm skeptical.
When I was a kid, I recall many times when I left my toys out on the floor or on the stairs. Leaving them on the stairs was a serious offense, and my sister and I would be playing in a bedroom when my dad would come roaring in, spanking assess like it was the end of the frickin' world. I never understood why he got so pissed off from stepping on some green plastic soldiers. The man is huge -- my big-buff-rough-and-tough-and-stuff father who could kill six bears with his hands gets mortally wounded from a small, inanimate object? Whaaaaaat?
Now I know.
I see myself very soon creeping stealthily about the house while everybody's asleep, like an angel of death with a trashbag, sweeping up all the toys that I loath. I will cast them in a fiery furnace and burn them into a brittle, black ball of charred plastic while I laugh maniacally at my work. Soooooooon!
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
Kids say the darndest things: Bedtime Edition
I'm about as smart-assed as they come. I mean, I have to hold my breath and struggle to remain serious about everything, and not crack stupid redundant jokes in every single conversation.
--Wife: "I'm gonna jump in the shower."
--Me: "You shouldn't jump in the shower; it's dangerous."
--Wife: "That wasn't even funny five years ago. Does that ever get old?"
Not really.
So it's bedtime for my kids, and I suggest to my firstborn son (almost 3 years old) that he set up his bag of Cracker Barrel pirate figures in his bedroom and make the black pirates fight the red ones.
--Son: "But I caaaan't. It's dark in there and I'm scared of monsters."
--Me: "Your scared of what? Lobsters?"
--Son: "No. Monsters."
--Me: "Mobsters?!?" You're scared of Mobsters?"
--Son: "No. Monsters. And I'm scared of gween bwobs."
--Me: "I'm totally putting that on the internet!"
A couple of months ago he ran up to me enthusiastically and told me he saw a "wizard," which I knew through my Divine, daddy translation skills meant "lizard," but I just couldn't resist:
--Me: "You saw a Wizard! Cooool! Did he have a long beard?"
--Son: "No daddy. I said wizard!"
--Me: "Was the Wizard's name Gandalf?"
--Son: "No, daddy!! I said Wizard!! Not Wizard!!"
Kids can be endless entertainment! And yes, I can be a dick.
--Wife: "I'm gonna jump in the shower."
--Me: "You shouldn't jump in the shower; it's dangerous."
--Wife: "That wasn't even funny five years ago. Does that ever get old?"
Not really.
So it's bedtime for my kids, and I suggest to my firstborn son (almost 3 years old) that he set up his bag of Cracker Barrel pirate figures in his bedroom and make the black pirates fight the red ones.
--Son: "But I caaaan't. It's dark in there and I'm scared of monsters."
--Me: "Your scared of what? Lobsters?"
--Son: "No. Monsters."
--Me: "Mobsters?!?" You're scared of Mobsters?"
--Son: "No. Monsters. And I'm scared of gween bwobs."
--Me: "I'm totally putting that on the internet!"
A couple of months ago he ran up to me enthusiastically and told me he saw a "wizard," which I knew through my Divine, daddy translation skills meant "lizard," but I just couldn't resist:
--Me: "You saw a Wizard! Cooool! Did he have a long beard?"
--Son: "No daddy. I said wizard!"
--Me: "Was the Wizard's name Gandalf?"
--Son: "No, daddy!! I said Wizard!! Not Wizard!!"
Kids can be endless entertainment! And yes, I can be a dick.
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
The Beast that will not sleep
In the dark of night, the Beast is angry and restless; he writhes about in red faced fury. The Beast has a need, a deep want, a desire that burns bright within his belly, that he does not himself know and will not reveal to you, yet you must find it and provide remedy or you shall surely be punished. Like Nebakanezer's dreams, without any clues you must know what will please the Beast and give it swiftly; your timing must be perfect, or it shall not work. Fail at this task and you will find yourself cast into the Sea of Exhaustion of which there will be suffering beyond anything you can imagine.
And so it was at three ay-ehm, in the year of our Lord, two thousand eleven, I, CTone, was sitting in the Recliner of Squeakiness trying to please the Beast with gifts of the finest plastic binkys and soft blankets woven from the manes of unicorn foals. Finally, when the sun crested on yonder hill, the Beast found satisfaction from a magic potion made of Formula from the distant land of Enfamil; but only after the Beast's portion of the elixir was tripled did he slumber in sweet Formula induced coma. The Beast was then strapped gently into the Swing of Peace, so as to not awaken him, and then once he was temporarily bound in the Swing was there silence in the land.
I cry out now from the Sea of Exhaustion where I must perform my duties with diligence under much gnashing of teeth. Tonight I shall not fail to please the Beast.
And so it was at three ay-ehm, in the year of our Lord, two thousand eleven, I, CTone, was sitting in the Recliner of Squeakiness trying to please the Beast with gifts of the finest plastic binkys and soft blankets woven from the manes of unicorn foals. Finally, when the sun crested on yonder hill, the Beast found satisfaction from a magic potion made of Formula from the distant land of Enfamil; but only after the Beast's portion of the elixir was tripled did he slumber in sweet Formula induced coma. The Beast was then strapped gently into the Swing of Peace, so as to not awaken him, and then once he was temporarily bound in the Swing was there silence in the land.
I cry out now from the Sea of Exhaustion where I must perform my duties with diligence under much gnashing of teeth. Tonight I shall not fail to please the Beast.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)