Favorites.

Jack's favorite song right now is 'Who let the dogs out.'  Explain that one.

At the water park.

Yum

Licorish at the ball game.

At the game.

Tasty treats at the Dbacks game.

On the go.

I'm testing a new 'on the go' blogging tool.

Uh, hello? We have a blog?

Hey at least it's the blog that gets neglected, and not the kids. 

Mr. Mom Weekend. A Recap.

Ashley went out of town with her friend to San Diego. Just. The. Two. Of. Them.

They left Thursday night. The night was uneventful. A little baseball in the back yard, dinner, baths and some books before bedtime. Nothing really to report there.  I was feeling quite confident.  But the fates had it in store for me.

Friday morning was much different. Sam’s morning bottle turned into this:

 

Yep. That's a turtle-shaped hurl spot on the end of the couch.  I cleaned up what I could, but was running low on time.  In an effort to avoid malnourishment, I gave him some “bland” breakfast of bananas and berries.  After seven bites, he promptly ralphed that up too.  All over his awesome outfit (one of my few simple joys is dressing the boys up with some style) and all over the high chair and floor.

I was starting to panic.  I hate puke.  Let me rephrase: I despise puke.  Puke and runny kid poop in diapers are my main nemeses.  "Remain calm; Ashley does this more often that you know about, probably," I thought. Thankfully, I had not yet donned my suit for work, so I simply loaded my clothes in the car and, like a good father, took them to my mom's house so it became her issue.  [She gave him some Sprite and crackers, and the remainder of the day he was fine.]  Off to work I went.  Panic subsided somewhat.

After work, we had dinner with Ashley's buddy's husband and kids at my folks house. The kids were thrilled (as you can see) to pose for the picture. I certainly don’t go walking around the house brandishing a double-barrel shotgun, so don’t blame me for Jack’s pose.  Sam hurled (again) at dinner and then promptly fell asleep at 6:30 pm.  I figured I was in for a rough night, but he snoozed until 4:00 A.M. at which point he rocked back to sleep and was down until 6:45 A.M. 

Saturday was a big day, filled with T-ball, a three hour and fifteen minute POWER nap by Sam, some lunch at Paradise Bakery, MoJo’s (frozen yogurt), a trip to the club for a few balls on the range (Jack), and then a visit to Jack’s buddy’s house.  Zach and Jack watched part of Ice Age 3 (I enjoyed it, Jack was unimpressed), and then they played baseball and soccer outside.  That allowed me some much needed time in the lounge chair.

 

[Either Jack’s sneezing or he’s disappointed with my decision.  You be the judge.]

After three-plus hours of play, Jack did NOT want to leave. 

 

Sunday needed some activities, so after church, Jack and I watched a movie about Legos (while Sam napped) and then off to the zoo!

And, with Ashley on her way back home, it was time to infuse them with Kiddie Crack for her arrival.  DAIRY QUEEN!

 

Overall, a successful weekend.  A weekend alone with my boys always cements the fact that I love them (despite their desire to drive me slowly crazy) and want only the best for their well being.  I also realized this weekend that they are growing up way too fast, that Jack may very well be more intelligent than I am, and that Sam’s sense of humor is amazingly well developed at 21 months.

Puke Count: 4.

Poopy Diaper Count: 3.

“Daddy swears and kicks something” Count: 5.

[Geeky Tech Footnote: ALL of these pictures were taken on my Motorola Droid.  I am really digging this phone.  I can find fault with any device, but this one is really great.]

Stuff My Son Says.

Today, we played some basketball.

Jack:  "Daddy, you and me will play first.  The invisible people will sit over there and play with themselves."

Me: "I'm glad they're invisible." [ironic half smile]

Fantastic!

I ran across this video this morning and it made me think about Jack at this kid's age, and what a little thespian he's become... and I have a special place for the King's English. [Ed. Note: I prefer the Scottish and Irish accents, but British comes in a close third.  In fact, I would put the Cockney accent in third, guv-nuh, British in fourth.  The Australian accent lost its luster after Crocodile Dundee and when I hear South African I think of the golfing Sasquatch himself, Ernie Els.  So they are tied for fifth.]

Jack loves to stare at himself in the mirror (usually in the middle of dinner), singing, making faces and stringing together silly words as the lyrics to songs he makes up.  Some classics include "He has the whole world in his pants" "Pooh-Pooh in the baby head" and [Extreme Air Guitar Leaping Between Couch Cushion Head-banging Frenzy.]  The last one doesn't have words, just a whole bunch of noises, screaming the word "yeah!" over and over while strumming his air guitar.

"Daddy, Do You Have To Go To Work Today?"

I hear the question almost every day.

"Daddy, do you have to go to work today?"

It seems that a transformation has occurred in the last few months.  A transition in which Jack has realized he and I have more in common than he does with his mother.  From the time he was born, he was attached at the hip to Ashley.  He wanted her to put him to bed, to feed him, to comfort him when he was sick.  But recently, his tune has changed.  He yearns for time spent with me, and I've enjoyed the transformation.

But having to answer his question daily, it makes going to work that much harder.

They, it's TJ. Remember us?

Missed us?

Sorry.  This is 100% my fault.  I know, I sent out a semi-humorous letter during the holidays in which I, again, invited you to visit, but there was no new content.  For months.  Again, my fault.  I hate to admit it, but on the daily priority list, this took a back seat to double ear infections, disclosure statements, charitable volunteering,  threatening letters, soccer games, and, yes, my addiction to golf.  And procrastination, but we can talk about that later.

Some of you may keep up with us via Facebook, but like here, Ashley updates that about as frequently as humans visit the moon.  I'm more verbose, but mostly with goofy stuff that I find in the internet when I get a couple of minutes to surf the intrawebz.  Case, in, point. (In my defense, I do like to post photos of the boys there.)

If interested, here are some recent videos I've made with my handy-dandy new Android-powered device, the Motorola Droid, when we took the boys to play some mini-golf.

By way of ultra-quick update, Jack is doing well.  He had his first tee ball practice on Tuesday and impressed the crowd with a barrage of bombs over the heads of the practice squad.  I'm glad he's ready to hit off a tee because he refuses to do so at home, insisting that I lob him the ball, which he drills back at me about 90% of the time.  First game is a week from Saturday, so I'll do my best to get pictures.

Jack remains almost dependent on Xbox 360 which frustrates me to no end.  I have no one to blame but myself because I brought it home.  Now I realize why my parents resisted the Segas and Nintendos when I was younger.  Then again, they didn't play them before having kids, either.  I have to admit, after a long day, it is fun to blast some digital Nazis in high definition to let out a little frustration.  But I fear that Jack has become a bit too needy for our time playing Lego Star Wars.  As much as possible, I try to defer to other (preferably outdoor) activities when we play.

Sam remains the happiest 19 month old alive, but has recently decided to begin testing his limits.  In short, he loves to be naughty.  He is currently (last two days) struggling with a double ear infection, and we may be on the road to tubes.  I'm not thrilled about it (as I fear hearing loss) but left untreated, hearing loss could occur anyways, so we may have to go the tube route regardless. No clue why this has been a persistent problem, but we definitely notice that he's been slower to pick up words than Jack was, but he's by no means behind the guidelines.  The downside of double ear infections (other than the obvious) is that it turns Sam into his "Hyde" side.  That is, he becomes everything he isn't on a normal day: needy, fussy and persistently whining, enough to tax our patience.  Sleep becomes intermittent (up every 2-3 hours throughout the night) which puts additional strain on the two of us.

However, Sam, we've discovered, really digs music.  If I turn on the iPod in the bedroom (it's attached to a stereo) he starts popping up and down and swinging his arms around.  He completes the package with a smile the size of Texas and giggles as I dance with him.  He brightens everyone's day and we are repeatedly receiving comments by strangers of "oh, he's so happy!"

So, to close, I'm intending to try to maintain this with less large "substantive" updates and more short ones with anecdotal stories about the boys (and, when appropriate, Ashley).

Gingerbread Houses + Homemade Beer = More Fun than a Burlap Bag of Feral Cats

Sorry, this is not a post about Jack OR Sam. They're fine. If not too fine. I swear these children are made of rocket fuel and "loud."

Ashley and I WENT TO THIS and had way too much fun. This was our second year. The first year, I was skeptical. Very skeptical. I mean, how much fun can building and decorating a gingerbread house really be? Turns out that it can be so much fun that you end up at the end of the night in the street swinging a golf club at your house, just for kicks. (That was last year. This year, the houses earned more respect.)

The gig is this: you bake (read: buy from Walgreens) your own gingerbread in any style you like, and you can even pre-construct it before you come (the beautiful hosts provide frosting mortar), but you have to decorate it at the party, all while sipping the finest home brew you've ever tasted. Some homes come with themes, some are just big and gawdy, and some are just a disaster. Litterally minutes before we left for the party, Ashley and I concocted the idea that we'd go with the then-still-developing "Tiger's Crash (and Burn)" story as our theme. I borrowed a few of Jack's toys and we were good to go. For the record, our house stayed true to the theme to the extent it had a truck crashed into a tree, a downed fire hydrant (complete with water spilling out) and a pair of "rescue" vehicles. We made it to the finals, but were beat out by the scale model of someone's childhood home. I am not kidding. Here is the proof. I was remiss that I couldn't conjure up a small blonde wielding an 7 iron, but there's always next year.

Prior to the party, another attendant at the party and I had concocted the idea for "gingerbread Lincoln logs." I ran out of time and didn't try to create them, but he did. And am I glad he did because it resulted in colossal failure. Gloriously hilarious colossal failure. So much so that he earned the "Mr. Hankey Christmas Pooh" award.

Discipline.

I bet you think I'm going to settle into my usual windbaggery and wax prophetic about how discipline is important in the Ryan household and how Jack and Sam receive a firm (but nonetheless fair) hand when at home, but I'm not. No. This post is to admit that blogging takes discipline, and while my erstwhile friends (*cough* Stacey *cough* Kelly *cough*) continue to post with surprising regularity and quality, I find that between being a father, practicing law and keeping a single-digit handicap, blogging has fallen even below "casual reading" on my "Gee, what should I do now?" list. And for that, my dear reader, I sincerely apologize.

To whet your appetite for the time being, here's a cute story about a precocious feline and her unwitting friend, Johnny Law:

Fall 2009 - Soccer

Jack started soccer this fall with Saint Francis Xavier Athletic Association.  He loves it.  

Winning, Losing, and Losing It When You Do

As Jack grows older, we've discovered that he's incredibly competitive by nature. Everything is a competition to him, and we've found that he's greatly motivated if you challenge him to a "duel" if you want him to undertake certain activities. For example, Ashley discovered that in order to get Jack to brush his teeth, she would "race" him to the bathroom. Otherwise, he'd procrastinate and find other things to do. The same applies for getting him to eat his dinner (often I challenge him to eat a number of pieces of food before I can eat the same amount and the previously rejected foods are quickly and voraciously consumed.)

Jack also (as you know) loves to play Wii. Herein lies the downside of this character trait: if he loses at Wii (which happens from time to time, despite my attempts and allowances otherwise) he goes bananas. Like Gwen Stefani "This [stuff] is B-A-N-A-N-A-S" crazy. Writhing on the floor, screaming at the top of his lungs, throwing things nutzoid. It worries me.

It worries me because I can remember my early days playing golf. My dad, knowing the bet was a safe one, would challenge me to golf, straight up (which is a farce unto itself - that's what handicaps were developed for). If I won, he'd buy me a car or a computer or whatever my dream item of the week was for that period. I'd try mightily, and when I hit one errant shot, I'd go, well, bananas. It was the one issue that once I finally dealt with it, opened the door to increased success in my golf game. I worry that Jack will be hampered by this same debilitating problem unless I can help him deal with it.

So the question for us now becomes, "How do we address this issue for good, and still allow Jack to harness his competitive energies?" Being competitive is healthy, but if you can't lose without totally "losing it," you're going to suffer. Just ask Jay Cutler. [Suck on that Jay!]

.. and people honestly told me that buying a cat would help train us to be parents. Yeah, THERE'S some solid advice.

An Update

I've been meaning to post a few things, and just frankly haven't had free time I wanted to devote to it. I guess I'll have to start multi-tasking more often (read: posting on the blog while watching my Wildcats get screwed out of wins by freak plays and brain-fart defense.... but I digress.)

Here are some recent highlights:

• Sam started walking. I intend to post some video (since pictures do little, if any, justice to this event.) He's still in that "drunk midget" stage, where he wobbles and only goes so far, but he's getting better every day. Scary thought.
• Jack played in his first ever organized sports event: a soccer game. He has practice every Tuesday afternoon, and I'm trying to act like an assistant coach.
• Sam's had a little cough that somehow triggers his gag reflex. It's most regretful after his morning and nighttime bottles, which have, at a success rate of about 90%, ended up all over me or Ashley over the past week. Otherwise, he's fine, so we're guessing it's allergy related. To compound matters, however, he's going through a "clingy" stage. A word of advice: a clingy child who barfs frequently isn't good for family morale.
• Jack discovered my old XBox and incorporated it, along with the Wii into his video game obsession. Thankfully, he's taken to NCAA Football (2005, but hey, it's football), and we like to run the triple option so he can make touchdowns. (Of course, we have to play All-Time USC versus the Southeastern Mississippi State Technical Junior College in order to make it easy enough for Jack at this point., but everyone starts somewhere.)
• We've been outside at every chance we get. Summer in AZ is really very much like winter everywhere it snows (and is 30 or below during the day). Going outside is unbearable, so during those months we stay inside, go to McDonald's, or the PV Mall playground with the rest of humanity. Thankfully, we're now free to roam the neighborhood with abandon, to have pizza dinners in the back yard, and otherwise venture beyond our climate-controlled 1500 square abode. Yay October!
• We're selling/donating/giving away all our baby stuff, and I'm REALLY STOKED about that fact. It's going to free up something like 96.8% of the usable storage in our house. I'm not joking.
• I'm counting the days until I get my office back. It became Sam's room when he was born and ever since, my ergonomic corner desk from Office Max has become a dust receptacle. Whenever the doors are open, we stare at each other, longingly, reminiscing of days when we used to sit and actually work together. *sigh* The plan is that next July, when Sam turns two, he'll bunk with big brother Jack, and Desk and I will be back in business.
• Jack's completely consumed by the baseball playoffs. Every day, I'm asked: "Daddy, is baseball on?" While I honestly cannot say I'm tracking the progress of each series, we've probably watched a fair portion of each game. If Jack doesn't play baseball at some level (high school or college), I'll be very surprised. He's consumed by the game, practices batting and running the bases constantly, and has a pretty good arm for a three year old. Spring promises to be exciting when he starts to play T-ball.

It's Gaelic for "Awesome."

Happy 250th birthday, Guinness.

Phun With Phonics

In an ongoing effort to ensure that Jack (and, ultimately, Sam) don't become the consumeristic nincompoops that MTV hopes to craft out of the youth of today [man I sound like a 900 year old man saying that, but it gives my parents some validation], we try to read to/with Jack (and Sam) on a regular basis. We have a magnetic alphabet that announceds the phonetics of various letters when you insert the letter into the machine that hangs from our refridgerator (it, too, is magnetic). Most of the time, the letters are simply hazards that I step on when it's dark in the kitchen, but we do, from time to time, use it. So Jack gets the general idea.

From time to time, I'll quiz Jack about letters and phonetics. The other night, I asked him what letter the word "milk" started with, and he began the analysis as such:

TJ: "Jack, what letter does milk start with?"

Jack: "Milk? Mmmmmmm, mmmmmmm, mmmmmmm, milk. ... mmmmmm, mmmmmm,mmmmm, mamma."

TJ: "Very good, "mamma" starts with that letter too. What letter is that?"

Jack: "Mmmmmmm, mmmmmmm, mmmmmmmm, McDonalds."

Golden Arches for the Win!

The "Other" Blog

In an effort to separate my ramblings from the stories of the antcis of my two sons, I have revived the "other" blog. It's my attempt to be funny, and my repository for things that I run across in my daily travels across the internet landscape.

Yes, I bill by the hour. No, clients are not billed for my time when I'm writing on the blog. I am so sorry to have to break your preconceived notion that I'm billing every hour of every day. I'm not. I am human. Most of the time.

THE OTHER BLOG.

Proof that Someone Should Monitor Children's Shows More Closely