A MONSTER IN THE CLOSET

There we were. Standing face to face. I’m standing confident and strong with Ellie in my arms. She’s cautious and worried. She doesn’t remember her curious history with this monster. She’s perfectly still in my arms holding onto my shirt. She looks at me only with her eyes. Her head stays still. Then she looks at the monster. Then back at me. My fear for this monster has faded long ago. Not only has my fear faded, but I have tamed this monster to be a productive member of the household. Even with it's mighty growl and lighted eyes, I still feel no fear. Today, I try to teach Ellie that this is a monster we control.

We all stand in the kitchen, silent, waiting for the monster to awaken. It stays quiet and perfectly still until I command it alive. I tell Ellie, “okay, are you ready? It’s going to get loud.” She looks at me, then at the monster. She squeezes my shirt a little tighter. I take this as a yes. Then with my demand it comes alive with a roar! Ellie jumps and gets closer. Now we are guiding it through the house. It’s lighted eyes are hovering over the floor looking for prey, it’s mouth aggressively removing any sign of dust, dirt, or debris. Shoes beware, for you will be sucked in by your laces and swallowed whole! We go from room to room destroying anything in our path. Ellie eventually relaxes and rests her head on my chest, but her eyes are still fixated on the monster. I command the monster to stop. I let it rest in the hallway while Ellie and I sit in the living room. She stares at it and then at me. I think she is still uneasy with it. She climbs up on me and lies down on my chest and turns her head away from it. Eventually she gets up and starts playing but cautiously keeps looking over her shoulder at it. Her smile turns to a frown and her bottom lip starts to quiver. “Ellie, it’s okay… It’s asleep now. It’s job is done,” I say. We walk over to it. She sits next to it, looking up in awe and amazement, but also with a fearful curiosity. She stands up against it… She places her hands on its body… She was brave at first… But then the monster uses it’s intimidation tactic with it’s mighty presence… She loses it and starts bawling!

Well, this sucks!

NEW YEAR'S EVE

Every Sunday to me is like New Year’s Eve. It's the end of a long hard week, and the beginning of a new one. A fresh start. This is when I announce my resolutions. It's the same every Sunday. I'm really going to do it this time.  Starting Monday, I'm really going to get back into a workout schedule. I’m going to make time for myself to read. I’m going to be more productive with my day. I'm going to shower and brush my teeth every day. I'm not going to eat half a carton of ice cream in an evening. I'm not going to use my Marathon gas card to buy chips at the gas station. I'm not going to use the random change in my truck to buy a sundae from the dollar menu. I’m not going to spend my evening rummaging through the cabinets looking for food.

And then Monday morning comes, and I feel like I was up all night doing keg stands at a frat party. But I still feel hopeful. I can push through this, I say. I might get a workout in during her first nap. I might be able to grab a quick shower. Just doing one of these makes me feel accomplished. But as the week goes on, each morning feels harder and harder. By Wednesday I'm already dreaming of a Blizzards, Doritos, and cupcakes. I would kill a dog if I could get some ice cream or a piece of cake right now. I'm so anxious. Every evening I just walk around the house craving food and talking about food. I rummage through our cabinets looking for ANYTHING to eat. We don't have any good snacks or junk food. No peanut butter, no chips, no crackers, no cookies. So I end up eating pickles, or cottage cheese, or old dried stale cereal, or tomatoes. And then by the end of the week, I feel like I've failed at my goals. I haven't worked out, I haven’t read, my emotional eating is still out of control. But then I look and see Ellie so excited crawling all over the house. She's so happy exploring, so happy for everything. And I think this is what's it's all about. This is why I do it. This is my goal, and I am achieving it. Then she looks up at me and flashes me a look that just makes my heart melt like ice cream on hot apple pie...

mmmm.... pie...

PARTY ALL THE TIME: THE SEQUEL

“My girl wants to party all the time, party all the time...”

I'm really starting to hate this song...

This is the exact same story as the original.  I thought I was having deja vu.  Everything was the same except the party started earlier, and it lasted longer. And there was a lot more crying.  Not from her... but from me.

6:30am comes awfully quick after a party night.  You are still in that dream state not really knowing what's a dream, and what's reality.  My wife nurses her so luckily I have a moment or two to try to get a handle on what's going on.  But after eating, Ellie is not wanting to go back to bed.  Even after her barely sleeping, she's roaring and ready for the day to start.  I, on the other hand, am not so eager.  My wife goes to leave for work and I look at her with my eyes saying, “you're going to leave me here, alone, with her?”  But she leaves anyways.  So I sit there, alone and scared.  I decide I really need to man up here and just deal with this.  I have to tackle this head on.  This is all part of being an at-home parent, right?  So I call my mom. “Mooommm, I'm so tired, I barely slept last night, I can't think, can I come over, I just need an hour of sleep, could you feed her breakfast, I'm on my way now, pleeeease.”  Luckily, she agrees.

When I arrive, I realize I have forgotten everything.  The milk, the formula, the bottles, the diapers, the cereal... EVERYTHING.  I even had to check to see if I remembered the baby.  I really need to have her food, though.  Or do I?  She doesn't really need to eat, right?  Yes, I suppose she does.  I'm already here.  What do I do?  Do I go back home?  Do I go to the store?  Why can't she eat real food yet?  I sit there and think about all my possibilities.  Which are few.  And as tempting as it is, not feeding her really isn't an option.  Even though it would really help me out right now.  So I head to the nearest open retailer to get her cereal and head back to my mom's.  I go upstairs, collapse on the bed and PASS OUT.

And my dearest sweet little Ellie... What does she do?  She peacefully drifts off to sleep lying in her grandma's arms. Well isn't that just precious.

KOKOMI'S KORNER

I've decided to add a segment every week called, Kokomi's Korner.  This will just specialize in general cuteness. 

I call this first series "Ellie with Shoe."

PARTY ALL THE TIME

It’s a cool fall afternoon and I’m going to the Rockefeller Center for a movie shoot. I’m going to be an extra for this movie. No celebrities are around, I’m just excited to be a part of the process. It's a restaurant scene, waiters are streaming by, people are chatting. Action! The building abruptly starts to shake. I catch a glimpse of “them” in the window. I need to run! It's happening. The building shakes again. I run upstairs and down the hallway. I enter a room and close the door behind me. “They” are here. I hear the pounding on the door. I'm trapped. I look down on the street. The pounding gets louder, and louder... My eyes open. I hear pounding through the baby monitor. The time is 2:30am. It’s Ellie… She’s awake… “They” got me...

I open her door. And there she is, standing, pounding her hands on the crib rail. She has turned her mobile on and it lights up the room like a disco ball at prom. And for a moment, I think I hear Eddie Murphy singing, “my girl wants to party all the time, party all the time…”
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bp_lIIGO-Ak&feature=related

She sees me, her entire face lights up and gives me a look that says; “Dad! You’re just in-time!” A fight I was somewhat prepared for. A party I was not. I need back-up! I change her diaper and call my wife in to nurse her. She doesn't seem tired at all. I think somewhere between the diaper change and nursing, she pounded a few Red Bulls.

“my girl wants to party all the time, party all the time…”

I try to change the feel of the party from a raucous rave, to more of a casual get together. Let's just sit and watch the fan while we listen to the gentle sounds of the white noise and talk about our feelings. But nooo, miss party queen does not want to sit and chillax. She wants to play with Hello Kitty, and Suzi Sasparilla... “I just wanna dance, Dad! Don't be a wet blanket, let's do this!” I could turn this party into a boxing match right now. I could put my gloves on and start swinging. I'm pretty sure I could get a few good hits in, but the truth of the matter is... is that she'll win. She knows I'm weak now. She knows I'm broken and bruised. She knows I won't be able to stop her. She has the eye of the tiger. I can see it. And to be honest, I'm a little frightened. So Ellie continues to have a one person party in her crib dancin' the night away. I'm just a wallflower laying on the floor, staring at the clock, watching the minutes turn into hours.

“my girl wants to party all the time, party all the time…”

Finally, at 5:00am, everyone has gone home. The disco ball has stopped spinning. Hello Kitty is passed out in the corner. Suzi Sasparilla was kicked out. I wade through the pile of empties on the floor to get to the crib. Ellie is rubbing her eyes and looks partied out. She looks up and her face says, “Okay Dad, I'm ready now.”

EYE OF THE TIGER

Putting Ellie down for the night is a lot like a boxing match. Whether I’m fighting or my wife is fighting, every night at my house is fight night. It could be a one round knockout. Or it could be a long 30 round fight like in Rocky IV. Ellie always gets in some good hits, but I can take a beating. Sometimes you have to tag in another fighter. And sometimes you need to fight two against one. Either way, I come ready to fight. And ready to win.


THE FIGHT:

In this corner weighing in at 15 pounds, 3 ounces, we have the Crazy Crawler, the Dancin’ Destroyer, Miss Fancy Pants, the Drooling Machine, Princess Pei Pei… The one and only… ELLIE KOKOMI!!!

And in this corner weighing in at 160-ish pounds, the Bottle Distributor, the Book Reader, the Diaper Changer… The beaten, the weary, the many times defeated… DAD!!!
 

 
NOW LET’S GET READY TOOOOOO RUUUMMMBLE!!!


It’s right after the bath. Ellie is bright eyed and crawling all over the ring. This could be a long difficult fight. But, Dad looks very rested and determined to have a portion of his evening for quiet time. This seems like an equal match folks. Anything could happen. Dad has Ellie down, applying the diaper. Oh, Ellie breaks away and is heading towards the door commando! Dad grabs her and distracts her with a toy. The diaper is applied. Dad is trying to put her pajamas on and Ellie breaks away again! The speed and agility she has is amazing. Dad sneaks up behind her and gets the pajamas on. Ellie starts rubbing her eyes, and shaking her head. It looks like Dad has won this round! Ding Ding!

Ellie starts screaming, arching her back. She is coming out strong for round two! Dad manages to get her down on the Bobby pillow in the rocker. Ellie is twisting and kicking. She fights dirty, and yet no objections from the ref. The bottle is still not warm enough. What a rookie mistake on Dad’s part. What a set back! Ellie has now flipped over on her stomach, kicking and screaming. Dad needs to think quick or this round will be lost very quickly! Dad stands up with Ellie and is starting the standing rocking move. AND he’s humming Twinkle Twinkle Little Star! Ellie quiets down! What a turnaround! This is turning into a dog eat dog street fight. Dad wins two in a row! Ding Ding!

The bottle is warm now and Ellie starts to drink from it. She is squirmy. Her arms and legs are twitching. Dad starts rocking. Ellie is calming down. Her eyes are getting heavy. The bottle is almost finished. Her eyes are closed, but she’s still drinking. Will this be the final round!? The bottle is finished, her eyes are closed, and she appears to be sleeping. Her body is limp. It seems she really IS sleeping. Dad gently picks her up to take her to the crib… A hush falls over the crowd… You can hear a pin drop… The emotion and excitement in the room is overwhelming… Will Dad win in three short rounds? He takes one step towards the crib… two steps… three steps… Her eyes open, and she SMILES!! What a fake out folks! What a blow to Dad! He is visibly hurt! He’s going to have to really focus to take a hold of this fight again. Ellie is back in the game and she is more determined than ever! Ellie wins this round! Ding Ding!

Dad turns on the white noise. Flips Ellie into the sleeper hold and starts humming. Ellie is kicking and cooing and drooling. She will not go down without a fight! Dad brings out the big guns. He starts singing Yellow Submarine. The constant repetition of “We all live in a yellow submarine” is putting Ellie in a trance! It’s a constant pounding. She’s not able to retaliate at all. Her eyes are getting heavy, her body is going limp. Her eyes are closed. Dad puts her in the crib. 10… 9… 8… 7… Her head lifts up. It’s down! It’s up! She twists and turns. Dad is being constant with his finishing move of the gentle back patting. Her head is back down! 10… 9… 8… 7… 6… 5… She’s twitching but her head is still down… 4… She’s kicking her legs, but she is still down… 3… 2… 1… She is down and out for the count! And that’s the fight folks! Dad has won this round and has finished with a knock out round! Ding! Ding!

10 minutes later…

Talk about a comeback! Ellie comes back full force from a knock out round with Dad! Crying, kicking, flipping, screaming. She is determined for a rematch! Dad, weakened and hurt, flies upstairs a broken man. A determined man. He picks her up and does the sleeper hold, the yellow submarine, AND the back pat all at the SAME TIME! Dad finishes the rematch with a one round knockout move! Ellie, officially defeated, sighs a sigh of defeat and falls asleep in her crib until the next rematch. Will it be at 1:00am, or 4:00am? Or in another 20 minutes? That’s the excitement of the sport. That’s why we play the game. Dad comes downstairs, bruised and beaten. He’s quiet and unsure of his victory and asks his wife;

“Do we have any ice cream?”

IT'S NOT EASY BEING GREEN

I could not would not with a goat,

I could not would not on a boat,

thinks Ellie, about all green foods. You know when you taste something so bad, it gives you the chills? That is what Ellie did when she tried avocado. You know that face you make when you have peanut butter stuck to the roof of your mouth? That is the face she made when trying green beans. You know when you’re at the dentist and they go too deep and you gag and dry heave? That’s the face she made when trying green peas.

I can’t help but feel discouraged when she so dramatically rejects these vegetables. I don’t want to torture her, but I do want her to eat vegetables too, especially the green ones. So I tricked her. Half peas, half bananas. And she eats it. Joke’s on you princess! You just ate peas! Now what are you going to do!?

I could not would not on a train,
I could not would not in the rain…
Well, maybe if there are some bananas mixed in…

HOLY CRAP

     Seriously. How can one little baby produce so much poop? I think she lost half her bodyweight this morning. And then a little bit later, she had an after-poop that was still quite impressive. But talk about being in a good mood. I mean, after that kind of effort, wouldn’t anyone be? She was extra smiley, and crawling faster. Apparently, she was lighter after all.

     We use cloth diapers, so we can’t just wrap it up and throw it away. I need to move the debris from the diaper into the toilet. I do this using a spatula. Or as I like to call it, a sh*t stick. It’s kinda like scooping out the insides of a cantaloupe. Except this cantaloupe isn’t orange, it’s green. And it doesn’t smell like fruit either. It still looks like it has seeds though. So you hold the diaper with one hand, and scrape with the other. KURPLUNK! But today, I wasn’t prepared with my sh*t stick, so I had to leave her “efforts” unattended to for a little while. Well, I forgot about it. Her room gets a lot of direct sun in the morning. So when I went back up, it had been baking in the sun for some time. Have you ever been to a picnic and by the end of the day the potato salad has been sitting in the sun, too long? Or have you ever left a casserole in the oven too long, and it’s really diffuclt to clean the pan. The same would apply to this baking scenario. So my advice is: don’t leave your dish in the sun too long, and never travel too far without your sh*t stick.

After her "efforts"

The sh*t stick

I'M A SURVIVOR

     I’ve never been stung by a bee before. Ever. When I saw that movie My Girl, and Macaulay Culkin dies from the bee stings, I became afraid that I was allergic to bee stings and if I ever got stung, I would die. Today, I came face-to-face with this fear. I was attacked by a swarm of angry bees. And by swarm, I mean two. But these two got me. One on my palm, and the other by my elbow.
     I was out in the neighbor’s yard trying to be neighborly. I was cutting down his forest of weeds, and pruning the lilac bushes. I was enjoying being outside, the sun on my face, a cool breeze through my hair. I was feeling good about helping a neighbor, a friend. I was carrying a load of brush when I felt a pinch on my palm. I thought it was a thorn. But I looked down and it was a bee! And then another pinch on my arm! Oh my god! I’ve been hit! I gotta get out of here! I did what any other normal grown man would do. I screamed like a girl and ran. I ran for my life. I could feel the swarm of bees around me, and I pictured myself in a hospital bed with my body swollen, just hanging on. My family sitting in the waiting room, crying, and the doctor explaining to them that these were killer bees. The end was near. I could feel the throbbing in my hand and arm. I thought maybe I got hit in more than one place. It seemed ok. But I was experiencing shortness of breath. Was this because I was running? Or because my throat was swelling up? So I did what any other normal grown man would do. I called my mom. I wash it, I ice it. I make a mixture of baking soda and water to spread on my wounds. But I feel like maybe I’m dizzy. Or do I just think I’m dizzy. I can’t tell. The baking soda mixture keeps drying and flaking off and now there is trail around the house. I’m afraid to sit down, or lay down, because I might not wake up again. So I keep eating. I eat because my life depends on it.
     It’s been a few hours and I’m still here. I’ve survived through the worst of it. I’ve survived through the dizziness, the shortness of breath. Through the hunger and baking soda paste. I look outside and see the scene of where the assault happened. Tools scattered around the yard. A pile of brush strewn about. The yard is quiet, desolate. I think it’s time to go back. To face it. To make a stand. They started it, but I’m going to finish it. You tell them I’m coming!… and hell’s coming with me…

I'm a survivor (what),
I'm not gonna give up (what),
I'm not gon' stop (what),
I'm gonna work harder (what)…

BAD BUGGY KARMA

     It never fails. No matter what store, whether it be Lowe’s, Target, or Meijers, I always grab the buggy with that crazy wheel. The one that either squeaks, but by the time it starts squeaking it’s too late to turn around and change because you already have items in your buggy. Or that wheel that doesn’t roll right, so your buggy pulls to the left or makes this loud rattling noise shaking it up and down. This is always annoying. And now with a baby, a sleeping baby, or I wish to be sleeping baby… this is downright irritating.
     I usually go grocery shopping on Friday mornings. It’s not crowded, the sale is still on, and things haven’t been totally picked over or picked through yet. But once in awhile, I’m lazy and I procrastinate and go Monday morning instead. Bad idea. Monday morning is the worst. The place is buzzing with old ladies. It’s a traffic jam of walkers, hover-rounds, slow moving buggies, and white curly hair. And they all seem to know each other, too! They’re stopping in the middle of the aisles to talk and catch up with each other from the weekend. I thought that’s what Denny’s early bird special was for!? And then there’s me. Steering one-handed with my crazy wheeled buggy that pulls left and a baby in my other arm because she won’t sleep. I’m trying to weave in and out of this AARP convention in the aisles as quickly as possible but my buggy keeps crashing into rogue canned goods or other peoples’ carts. I smile politely and my baby flashes a big smile and a little growl, and we’re back in business.
     We manage to make it to the check-out and I think, Oh great, only one person in front of me! Yes! But oh crap! She knows the cashier! “How’s Billy? Oh really that’s so nice…. Oh hun, those prunes were on sale… so anyways… these corns are killing me lately.” AHHH! Ellie is still in a good mood but it could turn ugly at any moment. Minutes. I only have minutes. If I time this right, we’ll be in the car and she’ll be asleep in no time. No crying. No fuss. No problem. But Nancy over here can’t find her checkbook. Checkbook!? It’s 2010! Who writes checks at the store anymore!? “And who do I make this out to?” she asks.  It’s Meijers! I bet you come here every week! It’s the same! Make your stinkin’ check out to Meijers!
     Finally, we make it through. We are bagged and ready to roll but what do I see in front of me? A herd of white curly haired women, with their heads down reviewing their receipts as they slowly move towards the door. It’s like a funeral procession with buggies. All of them; their heads down, marching in-step, basking in how much they saved. I can see it starting. Ellie is about to lose it. Shaking her head back and forth. Rubbing her eyes. She’s not smiling anymore… It’s time to be a little more aggressive. I start to pass a few buggies on the left and just as I’m about to make it through, BAM! My crappy wheeled buggy pulls left and slams into the door frame…. Game over.

HAPPY MALL WALKERS

It’s been super hot and humid outside lately and I miss taking Ellie out on our walks down by the river. So today I’ve decided we are going mall walking. I didn’t know that mall walkers still walked in the afternoon, but I found out quickly when I was almost taken out 30 seconds after entering the mall. These women were serious, too. Two words: ankle weights. They were doing the turnaround too quickly and almost clocked into the stroller. Slow down Sally! So Ellie and I start strolling around with no destination. I quickly realize this is extremely boring. I’m mall walking, but I’m trying not to look like a mall walker. But I don’t have a destination, either. I don’t feel like looking at any stores because I’ll end up buying something I don’t need, or want, or can’t afford. But food… I could buy food! That’ll be my destination… Hmmm Sbarro’s pizza? Mrs. Field’s cookie cake? Olga’s Orange Cream Cooler? Dairy Queen Blizzard? Too many choices! I can’t decide. So I circle the mall a few times weighing my options. Do I want something sweet? Or greasy and cheesy? What am I more likely not to get in the near future? What can I eat while pushing a stroller one handed? I decided on the cookie cake. There’s something about frosting on a cookie that’s just pure genius. Uh oh, Ellie is getting bored. Better move on. Next stop, Target…


Nothing could have prepared me for what happened here. I remember it in slow motion. I was approaching the pharmacy department. I see a woman grab her purse from the buggy and almost run out of the aisle. I thought I heard her say under her breathe “I gotta get out of here.” It didn’t make sense then, but it would later. I looked down the aisle and there is a woman standing there with her back to us. My first thought is something spilled, and someone fell. But it turns out this lady farted in the pharmacy and was warning her friends! Yes, I said lady, farted, and pharmacy in the same sentence. There’s another woman standing in the aisle, frozen. I hear the offending woman say loudly, “Kathleen! don’t. come. any. further! It’s really bad over here… WOOO!... I’m really sorry, go around, back out now!” Now I know why the other woman ran. When things like this happen, it’s usually silently. You’ll be standing in an aisle and notice a foul stench. You look up, no one’s there. You’ve been hit! All you see is a fog. Or it’s usually teenage boys clowning about farts in stores. But this was an all out fart war with middle aged women! How nice of her to warn us. I’d expect something like this at Big Lots, but not at Target!