Evan reminds me of Max (btw, that link autoplays a Max and Ruby snippet and Evan bee lined it to my lap so we had to watch all of them as he identified characters and objects in the movie. What fun!)
Dad: "What do you want for breakfast?"
Evan bolts over to the food shelf and points at Cinnamon Toast Crunch: "ONE!"
Category: Evan
Dad says NO…so what
We are dog sitting this weekend. No, let’s call it like it is. We traded 3 children for one Corgi. Granted, I think the children are more well behaved. This is still a welcomed change of pace for the holiday weekend.
We wake this morning and Crystal has mined the floor so I put Evan on the indoor slide and he watches from the safety of the loft as I clean. Crystal has a special diet so I lock her in Tommy’s room then feed Molly in the kitchen. This is my first moment to use the restroom. Yes, I leave the door open because I have to keep an eye on the pixie and you know the modeling thing.
Here’s a thought for you non-parents. How does toilet training begin? This will make your head reel. The word is modeling. Let me tell you! A dog growling at you during a special moment is nothing as disturbing as a toddler handing you toilet paper! [Source]
I see Evan place his hand on the doorknob to Tommy’s room. "No!" Evil grin. I repeat "No" and even get intellectual offering him an explanation. Click. Squeak. Slam! Ok. The door definitely opened while I looked down. Perhaps he peeked and closed it before Crystal escaped. Then I hear the jingling of her collar against Molly’s metal food bowl.
Does anyone listen to Dad’s lectures of no? The 14 year old went to her first after high school football party then spent the night at a friend’s house. Talk about nerve wrecking for Dad! Please think about Dad saying, "No!"
Lull Them to Sleep
Evan’s crib lives in our bedroom. It has a nook. So that Cathy and I could watch television we would leave it on when Evan was put in the crib for the night. This way he wouldn’t go from a total black, quiet room to a bright, noisy lighted room. When I noticed him watching the television after I would put him in the crib, and I noted that the programs were sometimes violent, or Ophraish, or foul mouthed comedians, I started to question my parenting.
Having Comcast’s digital cable, I started setting the television to classical music. Of course, Cathy will put the music on the 70s channel when she puts Evan down for naps or sleep. Between the two of us, he’s now being flooded with music that encourages big hair, high libido, and a serious coke habit (have you ever actually watched Fantasia?).
It didn’t occur to me that we had ingrained a ritual into the poor boy’s head until the cable went out today. Evan went down for a nap and complained that the tv was "broke" and demanded his music. What? Use a boom box or radio?! Pshaw!
From the mouths of babes
Dad: "What do you want for dinner?"
Noah: "Steak"
Tommy: "Meat"
Mom: "Whatever you want dear"
Sarah: "Mac and cheese"
Amy: "Not steak"
Evan: "Da da!"
We had pizza.
Of Being Dad
Break my heart! Evan needs his afternoon naps! But when I put him into the crib and he protests it makes me cringe. Right now he is sweetly (with increase aggravation) crying out, "Daaaaa Daaaaa DAAAAA!" He wants me, the bad guy that caged him in the first place, to rescue him. You know, if it wasn’t 90°F in this house, he might just go to sleep.
Hug me
Evan woke up on the needy side today. I live for these moments. He leaned against me and rested those tiny arms lovingly and securely on my shoulders then laid his head against my neck and shoulder. He wouldn’t let me put him down for about 20 minutes. No urgency. No matter how desperate our situation. No matter what deadline. Nothing could interfere with our moment! This is being a dad!
From the mouths of babes
Evan discovers the leprosy on my hands and declares: "EEEEeeeew!"
Of Being Dad
What’s that noise? *splash* *splash* *splash* Sounds wet. Oh! I spin around to see Evan, having finished his cereal, patting his hand in the bowl. He looks at me with shifty eyes, "more."
From the mouths of babes
Evan, 2 years old: "AOOooooh NooOOooo!"
So I’m a condom ad
Young Purchases
I remember the first condom I ever bought. I was 11 or 12 and it was a dry, non-lubricated condom. I remember this because I bought it at a store that sold Mardi Gras beads, magic tricks, and novelties. The condom came in a white box with a joke printed on it. I do not remember the joke. What I do remember is that I did not buy it for the joke rather I wanted to know what one of those things looked like.
That first condom purchase had no tension. Every condom purchase after that for the better part of a decade was guilt ridden. You’d approach the checkout feeling that because you were under 18 you would be denied your purchase. Or you would not take your eyes off the floor for fear of seeing those judging eyes of everyone in the store who had obviously stopped their shopping to stare at the sinful teen buying a condom. Didn’t they know it was going to just sit in that vinyl wallet to make the status circle until the wrapper wore thin and had to be replaced with another condom?
Providing Protection
As a resident assistant at the University of TN Knoxville (Clement and Reese), I had condoms galore to distribute to the residents. Aids Response Knoxville had given me 200-300 colored condoms to distribute to the residents. Ha! They should have been named inner tubes rather than condoms considering they were thick enough to bag your lawn clippings. But they were pretty! As I gave someone the last condom, I lamented that I’d have to buy condoms again. Of course, you can get free condoms online from Trojan and Durex.
Five Children Later
Two years ago, Omega was born. Two years ago, I readied myself to never purchase a condom again. For the most part, guys don’t want anyone playing around their groin with one notable exception. Age and economics have placed us in a position of saying 5 children is enough. Don’t get me wrong. I love having a large family and would have really liked having more children (not that many). Just under two years ago, I lamented that merely $600 kept me from participating in National Vasectomy Awareness Week.
Buying Condoms With Children
The other day Cathy, Evan and I approach the checkout at the grocery store and it occurs to me that we are in no position to exercise some adult stress relief. Evan is a little wild so I take him with me as Cathy unloads the shopping cart at the register. I find where they keep the condoms and I stare into the multi-color array of pleasure choices. Ribbed for the illusion of increased stimulation. Extra-large for small egos. Coated in desensitizing lotion in case your antidepressant is not doing its job. "Anti-depressants; they make you popular!" Non-lubricated for nostalgia. Flavored because you’re fooling yourself. Twisted because we’re fooling you. Tingling because no sex is better than the kind she screams out, "it burns! it burns!" Ultra-ultra-ultra thin because you might just want another baby.
Oh. I got distracted. Where’s Evan? Oh! Screaming and bolting for the exit. I grab the least expensive 12 pack (a year’s supply) checking to make sure it doesn’t say nonoxynol-9 (which I am pretty sure doesn’t come on any condom anymore) and making sure it doesn’t say Michelin then bolt for Evan. He sees me coming, laughs, squeals, changes direction and shoots toward the lines of staring people at the checkouts. "Oh look honey! That man carrying the box of condoms is chasing the undisciplined hellion." I finally catch Evan who grabs the box of condoms and politely hands them to the cashier.
Internet Campaign to Neuter Doug
I think Evan is finally turning in his lease. 
I have a chance at a romance life again! I think perhaps it is time to walk the path some other brave men have journeyed. Time to buy a decent bottle of scotch and a bag of frozen peas. Dr. Snip here I come!
From the mouths of babes
Evan: "wat a woot la la blah che che oooh."
Dad: "That’s chalk and I’m not opening it in here."
Evan, 2 years old, sharply: "Fine!"
From the mouths of babes
Evan, pointing to my coffee: "Is that hot?"
His vocabulary and sentence structures have exploded in the past couple of weeks!
Whaaaaaaaa
Why is everybody crying?!!
Happy Birthday Evan!
Two weeks ago it was Cathy’s birthday. This past Thursday, Noah turned 11 years old. Today Evan turns two! Two very fast years. When Amy was born, I bought a book and started writing her a letter a day which became a letter a week, then none at all. When Evan was born, I bought a book and never put word one in it. Ah! Good intentions replaced by actual doings. The upcoming birthdays are Amy turning five on June 10 and Sarah turning 14 on June 24 then Tommy turns 17 on August 15.
Blogfest Happened!
Last night was one of those nights where I just should not have left the house. Of course, here of late as stress has increased, and I continue to work alone, I seem to have more socially inadequate moments. For me the blogfest was a blur as if I had too much to drink by the time I arrived. I got people’s names wrong, botched jokes, interrupted at inopportune times, could not get some of my past to come into clear focus, failed to eat my meal, and overall was a distraction rather than a compliment to the festivities. Oh, we also showed up late rather than early and that was me too.
I blame Evan! The child does not get restaurants although the wait staff seemed pleased that Evan was willing to sweep the floors. He tore through the restaurant as if it were a race track. Poured tea on the table. He chatted with strangers trying to enjoy their meal with the exception of the older gentleman and his daughter co-worker date escort hooker which is regretful because that could have been a fun conversation, "pardon my son for interrupting your, uh, uh, thang. So, do you measure those heals with a yard stick?" Evan was tired and doing his best to stay awake so I did the fatherly thing and drove him around until he slept but timed it wrong and he woke up just as I returned to the restaurant. Some thought I left angry but I was simply frustrated. I think Evan should have terrorized his grandparents instead of the patrons. For future blogfests, I will stay home and watch Evan, and Cathy and Tommy can go have a good time (and Tommy did have a good time! "Strawberry short cake fixes headaches and bad moods.")
On the positive side, I finally made the connection that a fellow blogger happens to be an old friend from college days! I had to sit back with a stunned look on my face as a wealth of blocked memories rushed into my head like the failure of the Wolf Creek Dam will on Nashville. Better put a call into the psychologist and hypnotist. I have lost touch with most people of my past. My best friend from high school and college days who at one time could read my mind hasn’t even met my youngest child and has only seen Amy once. Strange how age, responsibility, and children pull us into our own little cosmoses. When we went to the funeral, we boarded Molly at Dreamcatchers. I had to fill out a form that required a local emergency contact and I struggled to actually come up with a name and a phone number since all the relatives were going to Parsons.
Rich has the roundup listed as: Glenn, Helen, Tam, Friend o’ Tam (Bob I believe), Me, Cathy, Tommy, Evan, Mark, Lissa, Michael, and Rich. Cathy has the photographic evidence including the rain chains (see Jon) for Les.
Let’s do another blogfest soon!
