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

Jack + Camera = Eternal Hamnation

Jack was treated to a day at the Childrens' museum last Friday with his friends Tyler and "Little" Jack (yes, as Poopwatchgate trundled forward). Thankfully, blogger-mommy Julianne was kind enough to photograph the event and post some photos.

Enjoy the rest of the photos here.