Sign of the Times

My kids had a fun Halloween.

I walked my daughter around the neighborhood with her best friend and her father. When Alissa was done she took over the task of handing out the candy, something I think she enjoys just as much as receiving it.

My son is old enough now that he was able to go out on his own with his best friend. It is no longer cool to hang out with dad or the little sister.

We have lived in this neighborhood for about 6 years. It is a nice neighborhood, people would drive to our neighborhood to amass Halloween candy, but I have seen a change the last couple of years that makes me a little sad.

I bet two years ago 80% of the houses in my neighborhood participated in Halloween festivities. This year I would guess closer to 30% bothered to participate. That was still enough candy to keep our dentist in business, but nothing like it used to be.

The streets were just dark. People were not at home, at home but not handing out candy, or the house was bank owned. And there was a lot of the latter.

Are times that tough that you can’t afford to buy candy for Halloween? Maybe. The vacant homes, now looking more like haunted houses, might support that statement.

It’s depressing to think about what my house is worth now compared to a few years ago. I’m not even going to ask. We don’t have plans to move anyways...

So, what kind of candy have you been stealing from your kids this weekend? Anything with the word Reese’s has mysteriously disappeared from my kid’s bags.

Aww Shucks

About 5 years ago I was finishing up the general education credits for my Turf Management degree.

Physical education was part of those GE requirements. I would need to take 2 PE classes. Each class was only 8 weeks, half a semester.

The first class I took was tennis. This would be easy for me. I was the team captain on my tennis team in high school and I played in many competitive events when I was in my twenties.

The class instructor’s name was Wendy. Wendy was more of a personal trainer than a tennis instructor, but it was a beginner class and she had done this enough times that she was able pull it off. After a couple of days she could tell this class would not be very challenging for me. I ended up helping her teach the class. She would often pick my brain for new things to do in class and then we would try them out.

One day we were talking before class,” Hey Tom, do you need to take another PE class?”
“Yeah I was thinking about golf.”
“That’s probably some other sport you already know how to play. Why don’t you be a man and take my yoga class?”
“I don’t know....”
“It is the same time as this tennis class, starting right after these 8 weeks are over. It is always full but I’ll add you anyways.”
“Yoga...”
“Come on, come to a class that I really know something about.”
“Do very many guys...”
“Hardly any guys take this class. Just good-looking women. You should love it.”
“Well...”
“Don’t be a WUSS. Are you afraid you can’t keep up with a bunch of girls?”
She finally pushed the right button.
“OK, I’m in.”
“You won’t be sorry.”

The 8 weeks following the tennis class were “challenging”. Wendy was a genuine yoga instructor. I think she was teaching a power style of yoga. You had to be flexible, but most of the poses required a lot of balance and strength. She pretty much kicked my butt for 8 weeks, and I showed up everyday for it. And I wasn’t about to complain.

About 2 weeks into the class Wendy made an announcement. She was pregnant.
This would be her third child. She said that she would still be able to teach the class, but that she might have to tone it down a bit. I’m thinking this was my lucky day. Two poses later she was standing on one leg and had the other leg behind her head.

Yoga turned out to be one of my favorite classes, and not just because Wendy didn’t lie about the good-looking women.

The last class I took in college was a nutrition class taught by Wendy. She was well into her pregnancy. I didn’t she would be there at the end of the class. She almost made it. She missed the last day, finals, to have her baby.

I never got the chance to see her again after I graduated. Until...

... Last weekend when the Pink Puppies played the Blue Angels! Wendy’s oldest was playing for the other team. I was sure that was Wendy on the other sideline. She came over after the game with her family to say hello. She laughed and told me she knew I was a coach the moment she met me, and that she had a great time just watching me with the Pink Puppies.

I noticed that her youngest was a little boy and asked, “ Is that the guy who made you miss my last day of school?”
“Why yes it is!” she smiled.
“And what’s his name?”
“Tommy.”
“Really?”
“What can I say, I’ve always liked guys named Tom.”

Raise That Bar

Before the start of my soon to be legendary girls soccer coaching career, the league made all the coaches take a class on coaching soccer to eight year olds.

The instructor was some guy from England who took his soccer very serious. He was about my age but in much better shape. It looked like he still played.

He shared with us about how he has been to Wembley Stadium to see many great football matches. The San Diego Chargers and the New Orleans Saints will be playing a “real” football game there on the 26th.

I thought he did a great job. I took a lot away from his class.

One thing bothered me though, his expectations for this age group. I thought they were very low. He didn’t think kids this age should bother with the goalkeeper and that if the kids could just dribble the ball and change direction every once in a while the season was a success.

This year the kids are using a goalie. The field they use is much bigger and most penalties will be called except for offsides. They are playing a game with a referee, but nobody is supposed to keep score. Yeah right! Those girls know exactly what the score is.

Last year Alissa played flag football with the boys. I just realized that I never posted anything about that, what a lousy daddy/evil mutant blogger I am. Her coach (coach Weed, that cracks me up) had high expectations for his team. Coach Weed had "high" expectations, I'm killin myself here. He had a playbook that he expected the kids to know, by the end of the season, they did. He didn’t coddle the kids either, he wasn’t psycho football coach, but he was firm and the kids listened when he spoke. And they were a year younger than my Pink Puppies.

So I have taken that into my first season of coaching these little girls too.

I think the Pups are the best-prepared team out there. They know what to do when it is a goal kick, corner kick, or throw in. Our goalkeepers are aggressive and do a good job kicking or throwing the ball back down the field.

Their skills are improving too. They can already dribble and change direction. I’m working on getting them to pass the ball and use their left foot.

The main thing is that the girls have fun, and I think part of having fun is being successful. The Pink Puppies are having fun, and so am I.

Lets Be Honest

Someone I consider a good friend revealed to her readers that she was a birth mom. Being an adoptive parent, I can not begin to express the kind of heart I think she has for doing one of the toughest things a woman can do, give a child up for adoption. The reason she shared this information was because the child she gave up for adoption has found her. If you click on the link you will read that mother and child are doing great.

The conditions of my adoption were different. The birth mother of my children did not voluntarily give her kids up. They were taken from her. Despite that lousy situation, I’m pretty sure my kids will be looking up their birth parents.

I’ll be honest, that bothers me. And I’ll be even more honest, it bothers me for a very selfish reason, I don’t want to share. I understand an adoptive child’s curiosity about their birth parents, but it will still hurt when Sarah, Austin or Alissa decide to look them up.

But I shouldn’t be so insecure. The birth parents of my kids are not very appealing. Both dads are in jail and mom is a drug addict.

Hopefully ALL the family involved in the above reunion are better equipped to handle the situation than I will be. I wish them all the very best.

Why I Sometimes Feel Old

It has been a very long week. I have just worked an 11-hour day and I have to rush in grab Alissa and go to soccer practice.

Austin is eager to talk to me about something, “Dad, can I tell you about my homework!” “Dude, tell me in 90 minutes,” I said as I walked out the door.

90 minutes later, to the second, I walk through the front door, prepared for excited greetings from dogs and son. The poor dogs had to wait their turn as Austin leapt from the couch with a report in his hand.

It is times like this that I have to take a deep breath and compose myself. My first thought is, “Take a chill pill Austin! I’ve had a long day and just want to veg-out for the rest of the night.” But I know he is just happy dad is home and he wants to share his day with me. He is not much different than the dogs, and I think that’s a good thing. I really love my dogs.

“Dad we did a report on Iraq today!”
“Oh yeah, did you talk about the war?”
“You knew about the war?”
“I heard about it.”
“It started March 20th, 2003”
“I didn’t know that.”
“Did you know that Iraq used to be a place called Mesopotamia?”
“Yes, I did.” Really, I did.
“Oh, is that because it was Mesopotamia when you were a kid?”
Pause
Sigh
Cracks open a beer.
“Yes, Iraq was Mesopotamia when I was a kid.”

Pink Puppy Training

Coaching my daughter’s soccer team has been ... different. Any coaching I have done in the past has not been for little girls. I would have used the term “little girl” to motivate teams that I have coached in the past.

Coaching girls is different, but my toughest problem has nothing to do with gender. Amanda and Dorian, the identical twin sisters are my biggest challenge. It is bad enough telling them apart, but these girls are wild animals. Any lapse in action during practice results in hair pulling, cartwheels, or somersaults.

I played soccer in elementary school and all the through high school. I know how to play the game. I also know talent, and these girls are pretty good.

I enjoy coaching, and I really enjoy coaching players.

Besides Alissa, my favorite player is a little girl named Malia. She is the smallest player on the team, but she has big game. It’s not that she has the most talent; she just plays harder than anyone else. Its like she is playing with a chip on her shoulder, trying to make up for her size.

This may sound bad but I do have a least favorite player. I won’t say her name but this sweetheart really pushes my buttons. This pink puppy likes to correct me. I don’t know many adults that like to be corrected by an eight year old.

“Amanda, I want you to take the corner kick.”
“Excuse me coach but that’s Dorian.”
“Is that right Amanda? Are you Dorian?”
Giggle, giggle, giggle, “Yes.”
“Told you.”
“You sure did. Why don’t you go take a lap.”

The Wrath of Mrs. Khan

I was whining about my daughter’s class last week.

The school has started sending the second graders in Mrs. Valasek’s class to a second grade math class. The teacher’s name is Mrs. Khan.

Mrs. Khan has a little problem with germs. On Alissa’s first day in her class she sent her home for coughing in class. She told Alissa that she didn’t want to catch her cold. I think she may have been joking, but Alissa didn’t understand and thought she was mad at her.

So she spent the rest of her school day at work with me, not a cough all day.

The principle of my daughter’s school called us yesterday. He said he had an opening for her in a second grade class if we wanted it. “Why do you say it like that?” I asked. “Its Mrs. Khan’s class,” he replied. “She is a little ...ridged.”

As you may know, we are trying to get Alissa into a different class. But this seemed a little weird. It sounded like the principle wasn’t sure this was a good idea.

We asked the school counselor what she thought about the move. We gave her the low down on Alissa and that we thought she might need a teacher with a little softer touch. She agreed, and we will just continue to wait for a different class to open up.

Feel free to ad-lib a Star Trek 2 line except it is Mrs. Khan instead of (Ricardo Montalban) Khan.

For example- “Math is a dish best served cold.”

The 100 Million Dollar Question

I was eating lunch with a couple of guys from work. Midway through my Cobb salad one guy says to the other, “Let’s ask Tom.” These are guys are stereo-typical so I’m thinking, “Here it comes, Ginger or Mary Ann, fake ones or real ones, tan lines or not.”

“Tom, if you won 100 million dollars in the lottery, would you stay with your wife?”
“Yes.”
“Dude, you didn’t even think about it.”
“I didn’t have to.”
“Did you have to think about it?”
“If she bought the ticket, heck yeah I’d stay with her!”
“Wow, you would have to think about it?”
“I have asked about 10 guys the same question and you are the only guy who answered yes without hesitation, and only one other guy answered yes.”
“Does that make me weird?”
“Absolutely.”
“Blow me.”

It was really disappointing to hear that from one of my friends; not that I was weird, but that he would hesitate when asked that question. I’m not even sure he answered yes.

I really can’t imagine what my life would be like with out my wife in it. I guess I was lucky to find the right person at such a young age. I remember seeing her for the first time when she was sixteen; she looked like she was 20. I thought to myself, “I’m going to marry a girl just like her.” I married her 3 years later and today is our 23rd anniversary. I think I’ll give her a card with a lottery ticket in it and hope that she won’t have any tough decisions to make.

Suckaaaa!!!

“Is this Alissa’a Father?”
“Yes.”
“Hi this is Rick from Alissa’s soccer league!”
“Cool. When is practice?”
“Well, I’m not her coach, I’m the commissioner of the league.”
“Oh?”
“We can’t find a coach for Alissa’s team.”
“And because people often confuse me for David Beckham you think I know how to coach soccer?”
“Exactly!”

It is true that Rick couldn’t find a coach, but turkey balls actually said, “ I thought maybe because you were older than the other dads you could better manipulate your work schedule.” “Thanks Rick, let me turn up my hearing aid I didn’t catch the last part.”

I got the call 2 nights ago. First practice is tomorrow night. First game is a week from Saturday.

Right now we are team number 48, any ideas for a team name? I bet someone can guess what a bunch of 7 and 8 year old girls are going to name their team.

As Good As It Gets

It is a school night and I am lying next to my youngest Alissa. It is tough getting her to go to sleep. One thing that seems to work is when I stay with her until she falls asleep, half the time I fall asleep before she does.

Tonight was tougher than usual; unfortunately these nights seem to be turning into the norm. Alissa’s mood swings are extreme, yelling, screaming, and crying one minute, laughing and singing the next. It is almost impossible to control her when she is on the wrong side of that pendulum.

I have come to the realization that she has bi-polar disorder and possibly reactive attachment disorder too.

How do I know this? From experience. In addition to the bi-polar and reactive attachment disorders, my oldest has also been diagnosed as a sociopath with a borderline personality. Combine that with a lifetime of neglect and abuse from her birthparents and you have one really messed up teenager.

When we adopted the kids we knew we would have problems with the oldest, we just didn’t know it would be this bad. The therapist we were seeing asked us if we had to take Sarah. (This was an option the county made available to us.) I will admit that it has been hard to bond with Sarah, but there was no way we were going to tell her, “We don’t want you, just your little brother and sister.”

So we tried our best to keep these three kids together. Unfortunately, we ended up putting Sarah in a residential treatment school when we couldn’t control her any more.

Sarah is 16 now (17 in January) and she has been gone for 2 years. We keep in touch with weekly phone calls and visits to the school periodically, but we can feel her becoming more distant. She still says that she wants to come home, but the thought of her coming back is frightening; it was that bad before we sent her away.

Is she better? Yes.

Will she be able to handle a public school? No.

Will she ever let us be the parent? Doubtful.

Is it time to bring her home because it probably isn’t going to get any better? Possibly.

Does that scare me shitless? Definitely.

That being said, we don’t want her to turn 18 in this school and then tell her she is on her own. She was dealt a crappy hand and deserves better from the family that she has always wanted, but doesn’t know how to live with. And to be fair, we didn’t know how to live with her either.

We hoped that Alissa, being the youngest (6 months old when we got her), would be less maintenance; this is beginning to look like wishful thinking. We thought most of Sarah’s problems were a result of the years of drug, physical, and sexual abuse from her biological mother. It now looks more like personality disorders passed on by her biological mother and father.

My kids have the same biological mother. Sarah and Alissa have the same biological father. Austin has a different biological father. Austin does not appear to have any of the personality disorders that the girls do; I guess there is something about that combination of DNA between Sarah and Alissa’s biological parents. We only have three of birthmother’s 6 children. Of the remaining 3, one was born retarded and given to the county because she couldn’t care for it. This was also a child from Sarah and Alissa’s father. Another child lives with his birthfather (father #3). And her newest addition (father #4) was born after Sarah, Austin, and Alissa were taken away from her. The county has let her keep this baby.

It is fair to say that I have bonded the most with my youngest Alissa. If you have read my blog with any kind of regularity you probably already know that. It tears me up inside when I see her in a rage that she can’t control. I try to stay calm because I love her and I understand that she can’t help it. I have not been as understanding or fair towards Sarah. It is for this reason that I am probably more willing to let Sarah come home, even when the chances of a happy ending are slim. Sarah knows Alissa is my little girl; I want to at least give her another chance to just be my daughter.

Alissa and I were driving around town the other day. While we were stopped at a signal I turned to look at her. She had her headphones on and was singing some Hannah Montana song. She smiled at me and continued to sing. I thought to myself, “I love this little girl so much, I’m going to write her a poem.” I don’t know where the hell that came from but that thought really popped into my head. Did Sarah ever have a parent feel that way about her? Did she ever have a parent look at her and melt inside like I do when I see Alissa run home to see me after school?

When Sarah does come home I will try to look at her with a different pair of eyes.




















Green eyes, red hair
Tiny freckles everywhere
Green eyes, red hair
Born with attitude to spare

Green eyes, red hair
Clean your room and make the bed
Green eyes, red hair
I'll probably cry the day you wed

Green eyes, red hair
I love the girl that drives me mad
Green eyes, red hair
I thank the lord that I'm her dad

395

A couple of weeks ago I was on vacation with my family. This year we rented a van and hauled the kids, the grandma, and the dog up to Donner Lake. Yes, kind of like the Griswolds, except grandma and the dog made it back alive. Grandma took the brunt of most of our jokes but she was a good sport and offered to ride on the roof whenever we needed her to.

The car was full and the mood was tense for the first 90 minutes of the trip, at least it was for me. It takes a lot of effort to get this freight train moving, and I usually don’t relax and settle in until I get to highway 395. This is when my vacation starts, at the junction of interstate 15 and highway 395.

This desert highway is the road to many fond memories in my life.

When I was 8 years old my father woke me up in the middle of the night to pack me into his ‘70 Barracuda for our first father-son fishing trip. He didn’t tell me what we were doing and to try and go to sleep. I slept for a couple of hours but woke up when my dad cranked the 8-track tape player, the group Creedence Cleerwater Revival, the song Travellin’ Band. I think he was excited and wanted me to wake up; I didn’t mind and I like CCR.

My dad told me about our trip. We were going to a place he used to go to when he was a kid, Rock Creek Lake. Rock Creek Lake is about 45 minutes north of Bishop, CA. and about 45 minutes south of Mammoth Mountain. Over the years Sherri and I have caught a ton of fish out of the crystal clear waters at Rock Creek Lake.

It was still dark, and the Cuda was flying. “Slow down dad! Please don’t hit that rabbit!” were thoughts going through my head, but would never say. He never slowed for a single critter, but we managed to avoid them all. I was relieved.

I think we were in Lone Pine when the sun finally came up. I was surprised to see snow on the mountains in the summer; you would never see that in southern California. ”Holy shit! 45 cents a gallon!” my dad bellowed, “We’ll gas up in Bishop.” I think it was 43 cents a gallon in Bishop, much more reasonable.

We stayed 3 days and 2 nights at Rock Creek Lake. Our campsite was next to an outlet creek from the lake. I caught my first fish in the lake and many more just from our campsite. I used worms and salmon eggs, bait that still works for me today. The sun and mosquitoes did a number on me. At the end of 3 days I was sunburned, mosquito bitten, and filthy (no showers), I was ready to go home.

The ride home from RCL is about 5 to 6 hours, an eternity for an 8 year old. I think my dad was shooting for 4 hours, I think the CHP thought those were his intentions too. “Shit! I knew I should have kept it under 90!” my dad whispered as he pulled over. The CHP stood at his window and asked, “Do you know how fast you were going sir?” “95,” my dad replied as he showed him his badge. “Pomona Police? You know sergeant Hannibal?” asked the chippy. “He’s my boss,” said my dad. “Try to keep it under 80 officer Johnson,” the CHP smiled.

The two knuckleheads bullshit for another 20 minutes and probably lost whatever time my dad had saved while speeding down highway 395. I watched my dad’s speed the rest of the way home; he was just under 80, like a good boy. We didn’t talk that much but it was understood that mom wouldn’t know about that little CHP thing.

My father and I made 3 more trips to RCL, all of them before I got married. When he was diagnosed with esophageal cancer I tried to get him to make one more trip. It was literally one of the first things that popped into my mind. One of the first things that I thought would give him and me comfort. He said it was a great idea but he kept putting it off until he was just too sick to do it.

As a teenager I made a couple of trips with my friends, no parents, fun, very fun. Sherri’s family is very familiar with Bishop and places to go along the 395, so the tradition of camping and fishing along that highway continued when I got married. Each trip I would be surprised at how things have changed and haven’t. Each time that pleasant feeling, as I turn off the 15 and head north on to the 395.

Double WTF!!!

WTF in bold letters! WTF in italics!

Last year I was a little disappointed with Alissa’s teacher. So you can guess how happy I was when we walked over to the school last weekend to see who her new teacher was going to be and found out it was the pickle lady again. But it gets worse.

My daughter’s school has put her in a combination 1st grade/2nd grade class. There are 15 first graders and 5 second graders. I guess the first grade class was short on students and the second grade class had too many students. This was their solution.

The principal let Miss Valasic hand pick the five 2nd graders that would be in her class. We feel so lucky.

Alissa thinks this is great. The other four kids were good friends of hers last year.

I think Miss Valasic handpicked 5 little teacher’s aides.

How much attention are those kids going to get in that class?

No, It Wasn't Weed.

If you read the comment from Sarah in my last post you may be wondering about “the package” she was talking about. I guess Chris is the only one wondering since he was the only other commenter.

When I got back from vacation there was a plain brown package waiting for me in the mail. Usually when I get these kinds of packages they have a Columbian postmark. But it didn’t. This package came from the lovely state of Maine.

Cool, this package came from Sarah!

Sarah is a blogger I came across while clicking on that “next blog” button on Blogger. I left a comment, that I’m sure was rude, and now I bug her on a regular basis.

Sarah likes to knit. I try, but I can’t even pull off a basic purl stitch.

Frustrated, I e-mailed her. I wanted to make something cute for Alissa and needed help. Sarah said, “Step away from those circular needles rookie. I’ll make something special for that red haired princess of yours!”

So she did. And here it is.














Look at how clean that room is!



I think a few of my readers already visit her blog. But if you haven’t, do it! And ask her to knit you something!

Thanks Sarah! Now that I have your address you should be looking for that package from Columbia.

Orville Would Not Approve

It is always a good idea to take an extra day of vacation just for putting things back together after the trip. And I did just that. We got home late yesterday and just chilled the rest of the day. Today we emptied and returned the rental car. We also did a ton of laundry and unpacking. It has taken most of the day and I don’t have too much time to compose one of my normally brilliant posts. But I do have time to share a little snippet from the vacation courtesy of Austin.

One of the hard things to arrange on our trip was a motel that allowed pets. We decided to bring Ernie along for the ride. We only needed the room for one night. The rest of the trip will be spent at our friends cabin at Donner Lake. You can probably guess what kind of place we had to stay at. Mandalay Bay? Nope. Holliday Inn? Nice try. How about the Vagabond Inn? YES!

This place was nnniiiicce. Austin thought the Vagabond Inn was very cool. As he was checking out the bathroom he declared his love for the place, “Dad! Check out the toilet paper! It’s folded like a fan! Hey look, they even left us bags for our popcorn!”

Road Trip

I think the title explains It all. Making that annual trip to Truckee. We know someone who lets us use their cabin for free, SO WE USE IT! Bringing the laptop, don't know if I'll use it much. Someone might make a post for me, but they are pretty busy. So don't expect too much action around here the next week. Gotta go, I'm getting the stink eye from my better half.

Like a Good Neighbor, Malathionman is There.

Ernie has a friend that lives across the street. Her name is Shasta. She is also a Labrador retriever. We have known Shasta’s mommy and daddy for a couple of years, but really didn’t talk much until we got our Labrador retriever. We wish we had taken the time to get to know them when they first moved into the neighborhood; they are a really nice couple.

About six weeks ago RNC started their family the Malathionman way, with three. The difference is they didn’t adopt. They had triplets instead.

They have had family and friends over to help out most of the last six weeks. We figured that they were getting hammered with visitors so we didn’t want to go over and sneak a peek at the babies until most of that was over.

One thing I had noticed over the last few weeks was that they weren’t able to get any work done on their yard. I thought it would be nice if someone took care of that for them until things got a little more normal for them. Yeah right, like anything will be normal in that house again. But I wasn’t sure how it would be received. I didn’t want them to think I didn’t like looking at the long grass in their front yard. I just wanted to surprise them with something nice. I thought about it for a few days and finally decided to go for it. The next morning after finishing my yard, I grabbed my stuff and Austin and walked across the street and cleaned up their front yard.

I was very proud of Austin. He was very into this random act of kindness. And so was RNC. They were very thankful. They tried to pay us but I would take the money. I told them this was on me. I did tell them that Austin might consider doing their yard on a regular basis. They offered him $20 a week. I told them he would take $10; diapers are going to be expensive. Austin is happy too, he only gets $5 a week from me for the work he does around the house.

It has been about 3 weeks since we became better friends with our neighbors. And it has really paid off. They have had to leave town a couple of times and needed someone to take care of Shasta. They came over and asked, something they have never done before. We were happy to do it cause guess who will take care the frog, lizard, fish, and two weenie dogs while we are on vacation next week? RNC.


Here is the baby announcement that they made themselves. I thought it was pretty cool.

I Could Just Lock the Door

My youngest Alissa has been spending too many nights sleeping in my room. She will start in her room, but usually ends up finishing the night on the floor next our bed.

She has been asking us if we would let her do a sleep over at her friend Kylie’s house. We have been reluctant to give her our blessing because she has had such a hard time getting through the entire night without our company.

Alissa is also very concerned that Austin has got to sleep over at his friend’s house a lot this summer. She doesn’t think it is fair that he should have more fun than her.

This is a discussion I had with her in the car last week.

Daddy can I talk to you about something?
Sure, what’s up?
I really want to spend the night a Kylie’s house.
You know how your mother and I feel about that.
Yeah but I don’t think you guys have thought this out.
Really?
If Austin stays at Jake’s tonight and I stay at Kylie’s, you and mommy can have privacy.
What do you mean privacy?
You know...
No I don’t. Yes I do, but this is too much fun.
...You can kiss!
Awww man that’s gross!
Daddy!
Honey, I have a cold. Mom won’t kiss me. Maybe next week.

Why I Kiss My Wife Goodbye Everyday

3-year-old Lennon came into the play station room (Sarah’s vacant room) and asked,
“ Can I play with you?”
“You know who Tiger Woods is Lennon?” I asked.
“Best Golfer,” he smiled.
“You want to play Tiger?” like I didn’t know the answer.
Bigger smile.
“OK, you be Tiger and I’ll be Natalie Gulbis, she’s hot.”
“Hey Tom,” Lennon’s 6-year-old brother Lux enters the room. Today he sounded older.
“You want to play or just watch me thump your brother with a girl?”
“I’ll play but I don’t want to be a girl.”
“That’s cool. Is John Daly manly enough for you?”
“I don’t know.”
“Daly it is. ”

I’ve known Lux before there was a Lennon. My kids love these boys like brothers. It has been a couple months since I’ve seen them. They are usually with their mother Jen when she comes to baby-sit for Sherri and me. But Jen hasn’t worked for us this summer.

Back in June, Jen’s husband Jeremy was killed in a car accident. His car was hit head-on by a drunk driver.

Of course the drunk driver was able to walk away.

Jen had to ID her husband’s body on the side of road at 3:00 am while Lennon was asleep in the car.

Jeremy worked at a local casino. He was car-pooling home with some other workers. One of these workers called the casino from the accident. The casino called Jen and said he was going the local hospital. When she called the hospital they said he wasn’t there yet. So she packed up Lennon and headed to the hospital. Lux was in Colorado with his grandmother.

She had no idea it was this kind of accident. The casino didn’t give her any details.

The only way to the hospital from Jen’s house was highway 62. The same highway Jeremy takes home. Arriving at the accident was unintentional.

She pulled over to ask if Jeremy was on his way. The CHP asked her to wait in the car. She did, for almost an hour. They finally did come back to tell her that Jeremy had died at the scene and that he was still there. She chose to ID him there. They drove her home.

A week later she drove by the accident site and found personal things from the car still lying around on the ground. She picked it all up.

Jen wasn’t just our babysitter. She is Sherri’s best friend in the desert. I had met Jeremy a couple of times through the years, but wouldn’t really say we were friends. I knew him more from stories that Sherri had told me; stories Jen had shared about Jeremy that weren’t that great. They are about 10 years younger than Sherri and me. So we would hear these stories and shake our heads, “You’ve totally done that!” “ No way, I’m not that dumb.” “Uh yeah, you are.”

Tonight was the first time I had scene her since the last time she had babysat for us. It was awkward. I had to acknowledge the death of her husband. I tried to give her a hug, but it didn’t feel welcome, so I think it came off weak, like a limp handshake. I hate limp handshakes.

So I let the girls talk and bond and do what girls supposedly do best, communicate!

I would then focus my attention on something I can deal with, her sons. We played Tiger Woods and Ape Escape 3. I even let them win. We talked about kids stuff. Dexter’s Laboratory or SpongeBob. Does Lux like Alissa? Or does Alissa like Lux? We didn’t talk about their dad.

I’m sure they are going to have lots of guys trying to be father figures. I’ll just be the same silly guy they are used to. If they ever want to talk about dad it will be their choice.

I wondered what they were thinking while they played with me. Dad and me used to play video games. We don’t have fun like this at home anymore. God I miss dad. Tom sucks at Tiger Woods.

You hear about these kinds of tragedies all the time, but it really doesn’t hit home until it happens to someone you know, not even family, just someone you know. I may have to let Austin beat me occasionally with his new golfer, Caroline. :)

The Difference a Dollar Can Make

Summer is a very expensive time for the Malathionman household. The electric bills are usually over $400 dollars a month and we need to pay for daycare since the kids are out of school. We had a great inexpensive sitter set up for the summer but her husband died in a car accident a few weeks ago. So we had to do find someone to watch the little angels real quick.

I was ready to ask one of the guys hanging out at Circle K if they wanted to make a few bucks, when one of the ladies at work said her 19-year-old daughter wouldn’t mind watching my kids. Her daughter Nylet had applied for a job at my golf course earlier this year and didn’t make much of an impression on me then, but she didn’t make a bad impression, so she was in. She would get $8.00 an hour; work 9:00 am to 2:00 pm, 3 to 4 days a week. I would even give her a ride home if she needed, because she did not have a car.

Nylet did fine the first week. The house wasn’t too messed up when I got home. The kids were alive. The dogs were too. I was pleasantly surprised.

Week two didn’t start off very good. When I arrived at work at 5:00 am I said good morning to Nylet’s mom and asked if everything was a “go” for Nylet to be at my house later that morning. She looked at me kind of funny as said, “Yes!” I knew that was a big fat NO but decided to let it play out. Sure enough I got a call from Sherri a couple of hours later. Nylet had forgotten about babysitting and was stuck at her friend’s house without a car. My wife, who was just stepping into the shower and had to be at work by 9:30 was tickled pink about the situation and told me, “You hired her, you handle it.” I did, but it was a pain in the ass and I wasn’t very happy with Nylet.

The rest of the week was OK. Nylet showed up like she was supposed to. The house was OK, but definitely NOT as nice as week before. I had to drive her home everyday, which sucked. And the kids kind of whined about Nylet not going outside to play with them. She said it was too hot. This is coming from the girl who wanted to get a job working landscape on my golf course. I didn’t like the direction this “work” relationship was headed, and I didn’t want to tell Nylet’s mom her daughter was a sloth, but I kind of think she already knows it.

The next week Sherri was off, so we didn’t need a babysitter. We simply told Nylet we would call her when we needed her. We would try to find someone better the week Sherri was off, and we did. We will use Nylet when the new girl is unavailable.

The beautiful and angelic Caroline is the 20-year-old daughter of one of Sherri’s employees. She is home for the summer from college. As you can tell we love her. For $9.00 an hour Caroline drives her own car to my house. She also uses that car to take the kids to the movies, swimming, and to the park.

When I come home from work the house is always immaculate. Instead of her ass planted on the couch watching TV, feeding her face while the kids are in the other room, maybe I won’t be using Nylet again, Caroline is doing something with the kids.

I also think Austin is in LOVE. I understand. She is pretty cute, she gives him attention, and he is a 12-year-old boy.

Last night he asked me to try out a new racetrack he had made on the Playstation. I laughed when I saw the name of the track. It was called “Caroline.” I HAD to point out the name and start teasing him about it. While he emphatically denies any feelings for his new babysitter I hear a voice in the hall, “Austin and Caroline sitting in a tree...” Austin had to stop and address the instigator, “MOM!”

I Like to Make the Girl Sing

One of the great pleasures that I get from being Alissa’s dad is listening to her sing. When she has the headphones on she sings without realizing that the people around her can hear her. When she was younger it was Veggie Tales Songs. Now it is Hanna Montana. :(

I sing in the car when she is with me, but not with anyone else. Sometimes she will sing with me if she likes the song. So I decided to make a fun CD of “old songs” that she would sing with me. The trick was to try and select songs that I thought she would sing. I did pretty good. I was 8 for 9. She doesn’t like “Joy to the World”. I thought all kids liked “Joy to the World”. Her favorite song is not really an oldie, but it has the oldie sound. It is called “Chick Habit” by April March. You will find on my player if you want to check it out.

Alissa’s and Malathionman’s Sing A Long

1. Chick Habit- April March
2. Stuck in the Middle with You- Stealers Wheel
3. Long Tall Glasses- Leo Sayer
4. ABC- The Jackson Five
5. I Can See Clearly Now- Johnny Nash
6. Joy to the World- Three Dog Night
7. Misty Blue- Dorothy Moore
8. Lean On Me- Bill Withers
9. Build Me Up Buttercup- The Foundations