You Might Be A Redneck

If you drive three hours to get to Birmingham only to shop at their Super Wal-Mart because it has more stuff than the hometown Super Wal-Mart.

Sleeps Anywhere

We took Audrey to visit our friend Lori at the hospital in Birmingham.  Audrey made herself right at home. Lori seems to be doing well. She's eating chicken fingers from Five Points Grill. Good sign.

Meet Big John

"Big John" was born sometime last night or early this morning. He is the second son of Gladys. His big brother is Davey Cook. Don't worry John and Bubba, I already banded him. 

UPDATE: Gwinavere was born February 2, 2009. Mother is Gertrude. Good to have a girl calf.

Proof That Fatigue Can Cause Temporary Insanity

Tonight, after a day filled by playing with friends at school, gymnastics, ballet, a birthday party at the skating rink, and dinner with the family at Corinth's version of Chuck E. Cheese, Gracie (the 4-year-old) announced that she NEVER gets to do anything fun.

Gracie & Tad

That's as close as she would get. Addie ran for the door.

Tad's Pizza Party

We took the ballerinas to play for dinner tonight. Here's hoping
bedtime comes early.

Spike at Work

Listen to Spike at the Office:

http://2.recordertheapp.com/6c12f9bff27c3fc5e9ab

Poll Update: Spike v. the Paralegal

 Wow. With just 18 hours remaining, Take Spike to the Office is winning by a wide margin of 16-2. But before Spike gets too cocky, Eva (the paralegal) may have her say yet. I think the results are starting to scare her into making some pretty underhanded maneuvers - moves that at one time I would have guessed to be far beneath her. 

First, she admitted that both votes for Leave Spike at Home were from her, a clear violation of the polling code of ethics. Second, she suckerpunched him with the, "I think I'm allergic to something in the office," yesterday. Using allergies to defeat the integrity of the poll and the voice of the people is pretty low if you ask me. 

Eva has not hidden her resentment from Spike. The tensions between the two have been rising. Now, everytime Spike chews on her purse or bites her leg she yells at him as though it's some kind of big deal or something. Just a few weeks ago she would tell him how cute he was. The other night, when we had to take Addie to the Doctor in Memphis, I had to leave unexpectedly from the office, and I had Spike with me. I half-jokingly told Eva she could take Spike home with her for the night. She couldn't even be a sport long enough to go along with the joke and laugh as though she would. 

She just said, "Uh-Uh." And I'm her boss.

Who will win this epic battle? Spike, the cute cuddly bulldog puppy? Or Eva, the tired, chewed on paralegal? Let your voice be heard. Vote now. You've got 18 hours. 

Bad Things Really Do Happen In Three's

I wondered yesterday, after the loss of two couch pillows in three days to various bodily excretions, whether bad things happen in three's. I think my family may have finally proven, once and for all, that bad things really do happen in three's. 

Last night, after our return from a visit to the Doctor's office, AB (the wife) took a seat on the couch, where but one couch pillow remained, only to discover one of the kids, probably the two-year-old, had marked the whole last remaining pillow with a blue Crayola marker. 

For those of you keeping score, that's three pillows in four days. I know this may not sound like a big deal, but keep in mind that we have had these same pillows since 2003 without incident. 

It's uncanny. Here's the timeline: 

Saturday, 10 a.m.: One couch pillow lost to Magnesium vomit.

Tuesday, 7:30 a.m. : One couch pillow lost to diaper overload. 

Tuesday 11 a.m.: The wife discovers the third and last pillow lost to a blue Crayola marker.

More studies are needed, but the documentation above certainly supports the reasonable conclusion that bad things come in three's. 

The good news: My recliner is still safe.

Snow

Where Does It Hurt?

AB asks Addie for a little help with the Pediatric GI questionaire.
The weigh-in didn't go well.

Bad Things Happen in Three's

Do bad things really happen in three's? If so, we're about to find out. As you'll recall, from Saturday of the Cocrete Avocado, we lost a couch pillow to Magnesium vomit this week. We'd had that couch pillow for five years.

Audrey (the 9-month-old) is on some type of antibiotic for her latest runny nose. Have you ever seen the diaper of a baby taking an antibiotic? Well, you didn't have to look inside her diaper this morning. In the middle of her breakfast, Audrey took out couch pillow No. 2, and a warm pair of pink pajamas. 

That makes two couch pillows in three days. What's next? If bad things really happen in three's we'll be finding out. I'm worried about my recliner. 

Or, come to think of it, maybe the third bad thing already happened. A few minutes after Audrey's cleanup I caught Spike (the bulldog puppy) balancing himself precariously at the top of the stairs taking his own No. 2. After witnessing all that he's seen this week, maybe he felt like that was acceptable around our house.

I am hoping this will be my last post referencing No. 2 for at least a few days. 

I don't know about you, but I've had enough poop.

ANITA BETH UPDATE: She visited Dr. Frazier's office this morning. Crutches for six more weeks! Maybe that's the third bad thing. At least my recliner will be safe.

POLL UPDATE: Bad news for Eva the paralegal. Bring Spike to work is winning 10-2. I'm pretty sure both votes for leave him at home were from Eva.

Princess Puzzler

This Dad is very appreciative of his friend Bubba for a great dinner.
He is further grateful for coming home to a clean house and bathed
kids. Thanks, Granny and Wife. He is even further grateful to have
Court tomorrow afternoon thereby getting to skip the two year old's
trip to the Pediatric GI and all that might happen there.

The Concrete Avocado...Continued

Warning: This post is not for the faint of heart. If bodily functions make you queezy, proceed on to the next web site on your list.

It's amazing what a parent will do for his or her child.

The pressure has been building at our house for the last week or so, or perhaps even the last month. More specifically, the pressure has been building inside the cute tummy of our tiny little two-year-old, Addie. To put it bluntly, No. 2 has been difficult for Addie for a while now. And for the last week or so, No. 2 just hasn't been happening. When it needed to happen she would seize up and fall out of her chair, but there was never anything to show for the effort. We've been pouring Miralax down the kid for days, but to no avail. 

Friday, AB (the wife) finally took her to the Doctor. The Doc prescribed Magnesium, or something that sounds like it came right out of chemistry class (I never did well in chemistry). We received assurances from several folks that this "element" would do the trick. Friday afternoon, AB spent the better part of an hour convincing little Addie to take down the first dose. By bedtime Friday night... nothing. 

Saturday morning AB left to hang out with her friend Kimberly, excuse me, she left to "work" with Kimberly and the rest of her friends from Junior Auxiliary in preparation for the Charity Ball, leaving you know who in charge of the kiddos. That's right, me. 

Just before her departure, AB cajoled the second dose of Magnesium whatever down little Addie, as production remained at a standstill.

Things went along swimmingly for the first thirty minutes or so. The kids and I relaxed in front of Dora, Diego, Handy Manny, and an assortment of other Hispanic children's show characters. Then, I went to the kitchen to make Audrey a bottle or throw away a diaper or something. That's when it all started to fall apart. 

Gracie shrieked that Addie was throwing up. And she was. All over the couch. Luckily, we have these giant throw pillows that are too big to actually use and just take up sitting space. Addie hit it square, so the actual sofa was only slightly harmed.  That particular pillow is no longer with us, so don't worry, future houseguests.  Little did I know, but the couch was only a foreshadowing of the things to come.

I text messaged AB with the news. AB called the Doc, who said, "This is not good." Apparently, we really needed the Magnesium to work or other more drastic measures would be necessary. Much more drastic. Drastic as in send-the-other-two-kids-up-to-their-Granny's-so-they-can't-hear-Addie-scream drastic. The Doc instructed AB to purchase rubber gloves and get ready. AB relayed the news to me from the safety of the Hillendale Country Club. As I told her absolutely not, she said that the Doc gave us one last ditch remedy that could be made before going to go the glove route -- the silver bullet, i.e., the Glycerine  Suppository. The Doc said we couldn't give her too many. They're as mild as soap, she said.  The alternative was more than I could bear, so to the medicine cabinet I went, and much to Addie's chagrin, off to the changing table she went.

Thirty minutes after bullet No. 1, AB called from the drug store. She had the rubber gloves and was on her way home. "Noooo!" I couldn't stand it. Insert bullet No. 2. Ten minutes later I was in as much fear as Addie must have been, as the results were not in and AB was on her way home. There was some insignicant No. 2 which required a change, so I took her upstairs, ready for bullet No. 3 - Dad's Last Stand.

I cleaned her off and was preparing for No. 3. Addie was crying. As you can imagine her morning was going quite horrible and she was pleading with me not to use the final bullet. My heart broke for her, but I tried to reason with her that No. 3 was much better than what was to come. I had a moment of uncertainty as she stared at me, standing there, diaperless, with those big wet blue eyes. I was about to reach for the next diaper and/or use the final bullet. Suddenly, she let out a horrid scream and her body lurched forward. The green wall that was at least twelve inches behind her was no longer green. The beast was out! I was so relieved and happy for her that I didn't even care about the new wall color. The object that lay beneath her would later be described as a concrete avocado. It was beautiful. 

Meanwhile, Addie screamed that she had to go potty. I though to myself, "It's a little late now," but scooped her up and rushed her to her Dora potty. She sat there for a second and then told me she needed a Pull-Up. I ran for it. Of course there were none in her drawer. As I turned back to look at her she was standing in the doorway of the bathroom, she screamed again. "Noooo!" I thought. This time she redecorated the bedroom and the bathroom, again with a force greater than the Wagner Wideshot Power Paint Sprayer could ever generate. But at that I knew her pain was finally over. And more important, there would be no need to send the other two kids across the street.

Literally, I was overjoyed for her and for me as I danced around her and the new decor trying to keep her on the tile while simultaneously trying to keep the new decor from spreading. 

Only a Dad could be delighted dancing around unfettered poo. 

Congratulations Addie. 

And to give credit where credit is due, the wife did swoop in just in time for an hour of undoing all Addie's new decorations. Thanks, AB. 

1-25-09

Profanity

"Profanity is the effort of a feeble mind trying to express itself forcefully."

I jotted this quote down at Charity Ball last night. It's a famous quote of  Corinth's Citizen of the Year, Mrs. Ruth Sharp.  I'm going to try to remind myself of this the next time I catch myself trying to express myself forcefully!

Saturday of the Concrete Avocado

That's me. Gracie (the 4 year old) took the pic and asked me if I'd
put it on the blog.

If I look rough it's because I felt rough, but nowhere near as rough
as poor little Addie (the 2 year old). More to come.

New Poll Question

Spike came into our lives at Christmas via Santa. I'd always wanted a bulldog. I think they look cool and I like the idea of a fat, lazy dog laying around, as opposed to a hyper little yapper. AB (the wife) was wanting a house dog.  I think the kids would enjoy having a dog that they raised from a puppy. The timing seemed right. 

The week after Christmas, we learned that AB had a stress fracture in her hip/leg. Thus, she could not walk the new house dog. Spike can't make it more than a couple hours without having to relieve himself. I didn't have anything else I could do with him at home, other than make him fend for himself outside all day, so I took him to work with me. He's been coming to the office with me for about two or three weeks now. 

AB will hopefully be off the crutches soon, and I'm trying to figure out if this dog at work thing is going to continue. 

Spike's not so bad at work. He mostly sleeps on the floor under my desk or in his crate. His main office flaws are that he occasionally chews on a computer cord, a client, or my paralegal. He has ferocious gas and snores louder than my mother-in-law. I also feel slightly embarrassed walking him into my office each day, worried people might think I'm a dog freak or the equivalent of the crazy cat lady. 

Mostly, it's fun having him around. It's also made him a pretty well trained dog. He knows I'm master. He wants to go wherever I go. He's good on the leash. He's just about completely house broken. Most the people that meet him think he's cool. 

So, that's the poll question for the week. Should I bring Spike to work or leave him at home? Here's a picture to help you figure it out.

This is Spike sitting in my car on the way to work.

Happy Birthday AB!

Take a deep breath! It's going to take some air to put out that fire!

Jake's Pic of the Day

In early January, Cindy and the Aunt and Uncle took the kids to the zoo. It's hard to get a good picture of these four at the same time. Good job, Rachel. Those are my two on the right. That afternoon, Ole Miss put a beating on Texas Tech in the Cotton Bowl, so it was a good day all around.

Jake's Famous Cheese Recipe

This is a simple recipe that the wife and I have been working on for the last three and a half years. Anybody can do it. 

Ingredients you'll need: One gallon of 1% milk (or whole milk if you prefer), one sippy cup, a car or diaper bag, kid.

Cooking instructions: 

1. Stay in bed a little longer than you should on a morning that you need to get your kid somewhere, preferably a school morning. 

2. Dress your kid really fast in something. Anything will do. Slap a pop tart in his or her hand, grab sippy cup and kid and rush to car, plop the kid in the carseat, preferably in a car the child only rides in once or twice a week, and hand kid sippy cup full of milk.

3. Upon arrival at your destination, require kid, who barely touched pop tart and dribbled milk all over self and car seat, to exit vehicle and leave sippy cup full of milk in vehicle, preferably on the floorboard or under the seat. Take kid inside.

4. Forget sippy cup was ever in vehicle. 

5. Upon noticing a malodorous air in vehicle (usually in 5 to 7 days), remove cup from car and take inside house. Be careful NOT to open cup.

6. Get a serving dish, such as one you would normally use to serve cheese on, and place next to sippy cup.

7. Hold your breath. Being careful not to inhale, open sippy cup, turn cup upside down, OVER THE PLATE, and shake cup up and down a few times until cheese flops onto plate.

8. Serve with wheat thins or other salty cracker. Also goes well with Pick a Pepper sauce or Hot Pepper Jelly.

Enjoy. 

While Mom Was Out

Here are a couple pics from my evening with the ladies. We spent alot of time in the bathtub. Audrey was washed three times. Once by me. Once by Addie, and then again by Gracie. She is nothing if not clean.

After baths, Gracie and Addie used up some time units coloring.

Junior Auxiliary For Guys

Women have it completely figured out. They can volunteer to "work" for a "charity" and get out of the house anytime on a free pass. How can a husband refuse to take care of the kids so the wife can go out and "meet" with her co-charitors? 

This morning's conversation in the bathroom is usually how it goes down:

Wife: "Honey, I need you to be home by six tonight to watch the kids. I have a Junior Auxiliary meeting."

Husband (me): "Okay."

Wife: "Okay, but you have to be home no later than six."

Husband (me again): "Okay."

It's that simple. The man never has a chance. What is he going to say, "No"?!

These "meetings" happen regularly. Usually at least monthly, and at different times of the year, such as the onset of "Charity Ball" or whatever they're calling their fancy beer party now, they can happen weekly. On these nights, I'm home, alone with the rugrats, left to my own devices. 

Somehow, beer with the guys doesn't get the same pass as Junior Auxiliary. Here's how the football and beer conversation goes:

Same bathroom. Same house. Same husband. Same wife.

Husband: "The Giants and the Packers are playing tonight."

Wife: "Uuugh! I'm so sick of football!"

Husband: "It's my two favorite teams. Eli v. Favre. They're playing tonight. Winner goes to the playoffs. Biggest game ever. Some of the guys are getting together to watch the game."

Wife: "So you're just going to leave me here home alone with the kids?! When are you going to make time for us? We never spend time together. All you care about is football."

Husband: "Okay, fine. I won't go."

Wife: "No. Go watch your precious football game. I'll stay here with the kids. I'll show them pictures of you so they know what you looked like as a young father." 

Husband: "No, I'll stay."

Wife: "No. Go. I don't want you here."

Husband: "Okay. Fine. I'll go."

Wife: "You're really going to go?!?!" 

You get the idea. Football and beer don't get the same cred as Junior Auxiliary. 

I need a football charity. Maybe I can start a club that benefits kids that raises money by selling beer and "meeting" in front of an 80-inch High Def television with NFL Sunday Ticket. She couldn't say no to that, could she?

Exciting News (No, Anita Beth is NOT pregnant). Other Exciting News

Very exciting indeed. Readership is up. Google Analytics tells the tale. My mom isn't the only person who reads The Adams blog anymore. At least three other people read it now (You know who you are). In light of this exponential growth, we've made a few changes. 

First, I discovered how to use the text feature in Picasa and made the snazzy new header. Not sure how I missed it the other 672 times I used Picasa, but better late than never, right?

Second, the blog has a new name, Jake University. The new title is more than just a lame attempt at humor. It's symbolic of the broader appeal of the site. This is more than just another family picture album. Rather it's a looking glass into the life of Jake (me) and the people who make me who I am. Okay, it's really more about them, but since I'm never in any of the pictures I thought I could at least be in the header. The appeal is certain to be widespread and vast. We're going global.

Finally, and perhaps the biggest news of all, Jake University has acquired the highly coveted and much sought after domain name, jakeanitabeth.com. That's right, you don't have to remember to put the blogspot between the jakeanitabeth and the .com anymore. Amazingly, jakeanitabeth.com only cost $10 a year. Wow. 

Don't worry, Mom. Your bookmark to jakeanitabeth.blogspot.com will still work, so rest easy. And yes, Mom, there will still be lots of great pictures of the kids, with captions.

A new name. A new look. A new web address. This is obviously alot to take in, so sit back and chew on it a while. We hope you come back often.

And if you hate the changes, let me know that, too. 

UPDATE: Anita Beth is definitely NOT pregnant. She's still on crutches from the fractured hip for crying out loud! Oh the tears that would be shed if she were.  

The title was just "Exciting News," but as with all family picture blogs, that's code for, "We're pregnant." And that's what we're trying to get away from here at Jake University. So thanks for the heads up Lyn. I've made the correction.

Latest Failure as a Father

Yesterday after church, after an hour of undressing, dressing, feeding and putting all the kids down for their afternoon naps, I wanted to clean the mess from lunch so I could settle in for some football and a nap.  I was flying mostly solo because the wife is still down with the fractured hip. 

As I'm cleaning the dishes I hear Gracie (the 4 year old) calling my name from her bed. This is fairly normal, and it's usually just an excuse not to take a nap or go to sleep. Often, she'll call me up to her room and tell me the color of her pajamas or ask me to crack her door - anything to delay going to sleep. Yesterday, I didn't have time for it. I yelled back at her from the kitchen to lay down and take a nap. This exchange happened a couple times over a five minute period. In my defense, my ears are a little clogged from my latest illness, and, as the wife will tell you, I'm half deaf on a normal day. The sink was running, too,  so I couldn't hear exactly what Gracie was saying. 

She continued to call for me, and I eventually noticed she was saying something other than my name. I figured it was nothing, but thought I should go quell the insurgency.

I finally jogged up the steps, getting ready to scold her for not going to sleep. When I opened her door, she was sitting on the bed with blood all over her little face and on her pillow. The poor little girl was trying to get me to come upstairs because she had a bloody nose! 

She had every right to be mad at me for ignoring her, but she wasn't. She just sat there sweetly as I cleaned her up with some wet wipes and changed her pillow case. 

I am such a jack ass. 

The wife will tell you that, too.

FINALLY, A WARM DAY

We had one of those rare warm January days yesterday. The kids got up from their naps with 45 minutes of sunlight to spare, so AB and I threw some shoes and sock on them, bundled them in their jackets and sent them outside for some much-needed outdoor time. Mostly, me, Addie and Gracie had foot races around the yard. Gracie won every time. Addie laughed her rich little belly laugh from start to finish every time. It was fun. Here are a few pics.

1-19-09

Sunday Mornings Stress Spike Out

Him and me both.

The Saint

It's a sad day at the Adams house of snot. Not only do we all have runny noses and a crippled Wife/Mom, but Cindy (my mom) returned to her home in Jackson. 

I told her as she left, we could have survived the week without her, but it would have been miserable. What's really amazing about Cindy is that she was willing to come at all. If I had received the telephone call from me last week asking for help with the three hoodlums and the crippled wife, I would have probably told myself to go jump in a lake. Cindy didn't. She filled up her car with food and Diet Coke (she doesn't leave home without it) and drove the four hours to Tennessee. When she got here, she was greeted by my usual bad attitude, three loud, needy kids, and a daughter in law that can't get off the couch (stress fracture in the hip). Speaking of couch, Cindy even slept on it...for four straight days, so that she could be here the next day to change diapers, make bottles, puree baby food, feed kids, dress kids, feed adult kids, clean the kitchen, give baths, and put kids to bed. 

Just think, Mom, you could have spent the week in Destin. 

You're a good woman, Cindy Adams. Thanks for your help. We will definitely be missing you. But you probably knew that already after hearing the frantic desparation in my voice from my code red phone call to you an hour after you left! Can you come back next week? How's tomorrow sound?

Good Morning From Mile 4

Almost slept in. Glad I didn't.

The Solo Brush

I was ecstatic to walk in the bathroom and see the girls brushing their own teeth tonight. Gracie was actually very thorough. She was using maneuvers that I cant get her to do when I'm the one doing the brushing. I could see her going it on her own from here on out. Addie could still use a little help, but she has some big news of her own from tonight: She did her first No. 2 on the potty! It's nothing but blue skies here at The Adams household.

Ding Ding

Gracie (the 4 year old) is under the misconception that whatever she has to say at whatever moment is of infinitely more importance that any conversation myself or my spouse are having with anyone else, no matter the topic. Lately, she decided that she could say "Ding Ding" and AB and I would instantly stop our conversation and turn our attention to her. I don't know who taught her to say "Ding Ding" but I wish I knew. It sounds funny, but "Ding Ding" can be a little infuriating when you're trying to talk about something important, like who is taking the kid to school or which car seat goes where, or scheduling the afternoon. This isn't just a simple quiet little Ding Ding either. In fact, it's usually accompanied by high pitched cries of, "Daaaad, Mooooom, I'm trying to tell you something!" and maybe some arm flapping or foot stomping. It's impossible to talk over.

I'm convinced AB and I could be talking about how the house seems to have caught fire and formulating an escape plan and I'm pretty sure Gracie would interrupt us with a "Ding Ding" to tell us the status of her hunger, thirst, toy location, or whatever. 

Her mother and I have been working diligently to convince Gracie that in fact, her status or opinion is important to us, but that it is in fact rude and disrespectful to interrupt other people who are talking. We assure her that we will talk to her about whatever it is she needs to talk about as soon as the ongoing, now interrupted conversation, is over. 

It's still a work in progress.

Except during last night's lecture Anita Beth did advise Gracie that it would be okay to interrupt an adult conversation if Gracie or one of her sisters was choking, bleeding or had a bone protruding from their body. I thought this was wise of AB, but became slightly concerned that Gracie may interpret this to mean the next time Gracie wants AB to get off the phone all she needs to do is hand the 9 month old a pair of scissors or push Addie (the 2 year old) down the stairs. But then again I've probably seen too many McCauley Culkin movies. Gracie is usually pretty sweet. 

But the Ding Dings have to stop.

Couch Update

The Cavalry arrived Tuesday in the form of my Mom. AB continues to lay off the fractured hip. She'll be on crutches at least another week. Thanks to the help of Mom and Iris we've made it without suffering so far. We've also been the beneficiaries of a couple good meals cooked by friends Karen Cooley and Anna Lancaster. Thanks Ladies.

Tonight, thanks to Mom, we even had dinner and baths completed by 7:15, which was fortunate because that allowed us sufficient time to kick back and watch Barbie and The Diamond Castle. Great film. Quality time.

Poll Question

A week or so ago, on the way home from church, I stopped for gas. For some odd reason, I told the kids that I put "Super-Fast" gas in the minivan. As we left the station I punched the accelerator and told them the Super-Fast gas was really working. The girls squealed with delight. They sounded like Will Ferrell in Talladega Nights, "We want to go fast, Dad! We want to go Fast!"

Later, I told Gracie that the A/C button was actually a "Super-Fast Button." When I hit the button, I punched the accelerator and off we went, Super-Fast. This was at least two or three weeks ago.

This morning on the way to school, Gracie asked me to go Super-Fast over and over again, and I obliged. But I wondered, is it wrong for me to continue to perpetuate this Super-Fast story? Is she going to sound crazy when she rides in a friend's car one day and asks them to hit the A/C button so their car can go Super-Fast? Maybe I should tell her the Super-Fast thing isn't real. If I tell her now, she might not believe me on other stuff, so maybe I should keep it going until she figures it out on her own. It's a real dilemma. Help me out by answering the poll question. 

Hey, Get That Camera Out of Here!

The only signifigance of this picture is that Gracie (the 4 yr old) took it...along with about 20 other blurred colorful streaks of light. This was the only one where she actually kept her hands still enough to get a focused shot. 

Kind of funny that it's Addie standing in front of the john. Sippy cup under her arm like a weapon, ready for battle...or a sip of juice. I think Gracie really captured the 'essence' of Addie with this shot. She likes to drink, and she likes to potty... sometimes. But only No 1.

Fun Lunch

Gracie and I enjoyed a rare lunch together today. Just the two of us. She really enjoyed the Cherry Coke from Borrum's old fashioned soda fountain, and she scarfed half a cheeseburger. I didn't have to tell her to eat one time. We need to do this more often.

Supper Wars

I'm convinced my four-year-old is trying to use Supper to break me. Every night I have to coerce her to eat every bite. The food she does eat I have to spoon-feed her. Meanwhile, Addie, my two-year-old, sits to my left shoveling her food and enjoying every bite. She even knows how to use her utensils. 

The really frustrating thing about Gracie is that in the frenzied fifteen minutes leading up to dinner she adds to the pressure by whining incessantly about how hungry she is. You'd think she hadn't eaten all day. 

When we finally do get to the table and put a plate of food in front of her she barely touches it. I have to force-feed her. And for the record, it's good food. AB can cook. It just doesn't make sense.

A dominant part of the conversation while we're at the table is directed at Gracie:

"No dessert if you don't eat your green beans."

"If you don't eat the food on your plate you CAN NOT be excused."

"Get back in your chair!"

"No TV if you don't eat your meat."

"BE CAREFUL!" (As mentioned in previous posts, Gracie knocks her cup over about four to five times per meal.)

And then the dreaded red button: "You're going to get a spanking if you don't eat you dinner."

I get so sick of it. I'm already tired when I get home from work. Coming inside to sit down and force supper down Gracie just gets the night off to a bad start. There has to be a better way. 

As I write this, I wonder, perhaps Gracie likes the attention from me at dinner even if it's negative attention? Maybe. 

We went round and round over keeping her mouth open when I brushed her teeth, too. Nothing like putting your kid to bed in tears after ramming a toothbrush in her mouth. Fortunately, she pulled it together in time for a bible story and a goodnight kiss. Otherwise, the whole night would have seemed like a waste. 

Maybe a Book Will Help?

Went to Memphis today to help a client execute a Revocable Trust. On the way home I stopped in Barnes & Noble and found my way over to the Family section. I was surprised how small that section was. I guess there's not a large market for parenting and family books. 

Funnily, I nearly reached for James Dobson's Bringing Up Boys just before I remembered I HAVE THREE GIRLS! I picked up Dobson's The New Dare to Discipline instead. I wonder if the book would have come in handy at dinner tonight? Maybe I'll get some good tips. Anybody out there have any advice? 

Perfect Parenting

Lately, it's struck me, and hard, that I'm not the greatest Dad in the world. I lose my temper too easily. I'm too selfish with my time. I look forward to bedtime (their's and mine) too much. My kids know at the young age of two that my favorite "movie" is football. 

Don't get me wrong, I love my kids so much that it hurts, but Dad of the Year I'm not. The scary part about this realization is that I know parenting will only get harder. 

My kids are only four, two and nine months. They're well fed and don't miss out on much, but I wonder, what am I doing already that's going to cause one of them to go down the wrong path? 

Is my screaming at Gracie to be quiet after she asks me the same question for the 12th time the first dent in her psyche that begins a long tumultuous path toward a bitter conclusion of being a high school dropout and a doper? 

If I'm too cross with Anita Beth in front of my kids will they be forever scarred from having a heterosexual relationship?

If they can tell that I'm tired and just want them to go to bed tonight will they eventually resent me and spend the afternoons locked in their rooms chatting with some nose-pierced freak  on the internet? 

Through my law practice, family, friendships and acquaintances I know many parents who are great parents and did everything right, or at least close to right, whose children went down a rebellious path, got kicked out of school, sent to rehab, or even jail. What could their parents have possibly done wrong? What can I learn from, so I don't repeat their mistake?

The really scary part - maybe they didn't do anything wrong. Maybe they were God-fearing, model parents. 

Right now, my biggest problem is getting the three little lady-scrappers packed for church or school. One day they'll have friends or at least know kids that smoke marijuana and hate their parents. Who am I kidding, for all I know my kids may be the ones doing drugs and dropping out of school. Maybe, God forbid, one of them will even hate me. 

In order to avoid this tragedy, tonight, I'm going to go home and be the perfect Dad. 

Yeah, right. That'll last 20 minutes or until Gracie knocks her cup off the table for the 8th time, or until I come down the stairs from brushing teeth and find the dog rolling around on an open, very dirty diaper. YUCK! (Happened last night).

Nevermind. Scratch that the perfect Dad plan. Tonight, I'm going to go home and pray. Alot.

Update From the Couch

AB's hip is still fractured, but we have balloons! Addie has hers tied
to her dog ears.

Spike Gives Up

He just can't get excited about any other game now that the Giants are
out. Don't get too excited, AB. I still plan to watch.

Sunday Blues

Spike and I are really bummed out that the Giants were beaten by the
Eagles. I guess we're about to cheer for the Steelers. Blah. At least
the girls are still asleep. Maybe a snowy game in Pittsburg will cheer
us up.

Plasma Cars

Tonight, after baths, we pulled the rugs back and had plasma car races.

John Burton's Birthday Party

Gracie and Addie spent the night at their Granny's last night. Anita Beth and I took full advantage, throwing Audrey and her bag in the car and getting out while the getting was good. After dinner at Pizza Grocery we spent a relaxing evening watching a movie and an even more relaxing morning sipping on coffee and finishing the same movie. It was a delightfully peaceful night and morning, but we new it would all come to an end. Sure enough, around 11:30 a.m. Granny unleashed hell; i.e., she brought Gracie and Addie home. 

Our friends Bubba and Kimberly Labas were throwing a party to celebrate their one-year-old's birthday and it was time to get ready. If you've never tried to get a four-year-old, a two-year-old and a 9-month-old out the door, for anything, much less an event requiring punctuality, let me give you a glimpse into our little world - a dark dark world where your wife has a fractured hip.

First, you have to get clothes for all three girls. And they can't be just any clothes. They have to "cute." AB doesn't want the girls looking like rif raf off the street. She also believes in matching outfits. So you run upstairs, get outfits, socks and clean diapers for all the girls, except for Gracie, she uses the potty now. You also need shoes for each child. Even though that sounds simple, it rarely is, because their shoes are always scattered all about the house, the car, or at Granny's house.  It's a little bit like a timed scavenger hunt with no prize.

After five minutes of scurrying about picking outfits and shoes, it's time to change diapers. Today, Addie and Audrey both had presents for me in their diapers. Of course, it took me an extra four minutes to catch Addie before I could change her diaper. Hiding from me has become fun game for her. Then it's time to make sure Gracie uses the potty appropriately. I want go into detail. 

Most times, the crying begins here. Usually because one of them had to quit playing with a toy just long enough to change clothes. The sound of a crying child always quickens my heart rate, which isn't good because I'm already huffing from running up the stairs to get the clothes and chasing Addie to change her diaper. I suppose as a father of three little ones I should be more layed back, but I'm not. 

After wrestling clothes on everyone, the tears really crank up as it's time for Mom to do everbody's hair. Addie habitually sounds like she's getting beaten with a 2 x 4. Amazingly, she always pulls it together the second AB stops brushing. As though it didn't really hurt that bad after all. Hmmm. Gracie tries to make everything a debate. A debate she can't win, but refuses to lose.

Today, Anita Beth decided to put curlers in their hair. Addie hasn't worn alot of curlers, so she thought they were the equivalent of wearing a bow. She refused to take the curlers out of her hair. All the way to party AB tried to coax her into letting go of the curlers. "NO!" Addie would say. 

While Anita Beth does hair I back her up with supporting shouts of "Get in there and obey your Mother!" or , "You better listen to your Mother!" During this time I also pack the baby's bottle and diaper bag and start getting everything ready to get out the door. 

When the last child is brushed we're ready for launch. I start singing "Let's go to Mommy's car," over and over again until one of them actually starts heading that direction. I scoop up the baby and the diaper bag, grab AB's purse and head to the car. After more wrestling and some amount of whining everybody is buckled into their carseat. 

Once the entire family is in the car I usually have to run back inside and get all the stuff I forgot, usually my phone or my wallet. Sometimes a coat or a cup of coffee. Then I jump back in the car and exhale. As I back the minivan out of the garage with everyone securely buckled in their seats I visualize myself as a rodeo cowboy throwing his hands up in the air right after he roped the calf and tied his feet together. Victory! 

And that's how we got in the car for John Burton's birthday party. But it was worth it to see John Burton eat his own blue cake and smear icing all over his face. We had a great time. Here's some pictures.

1-10-09

Spike Update

The bathtub naps really well.

Spike Takes a Nap

In case you're wondering, yes, that is the baby's bathtub.

Show and Tell

Gracie had a big day at school today. Check out the pics to get the story.

1-09-09 Show and Tell

How to Know When Your Wife Is Awesome

She fractures her hip and walks with the help of crutches and yet somehow picks your three kids up from school, gets them to gymnastics, ballet and home for for dinner all in the same afternoon while simultaneously letting you hang out with the guys to watch the BCS Championship Game despite having three wild things running around her in circles, chanting and whining like crazy little indian warriors and all the while wearing:  (1) A princess outfit complete with crown and high heels (Addie); (2) A really bad attitude as though she's 13 even though she's only four (Gracie); and (3) Various and assundry pureed food products about the face and clothing and perhaps a little in her hair, which grows in every direction just like her Dad's (Audrey). 

This is a complicated test and a standard that not many women could possibly meet, so I do not recommend applying this same test to your wives and/or girlfriends. Rather, study the standard closely and realize that if by some miracle you too have a woman like this or can find one who can meet these criteria you have done mighty well. Probably better than even your own mother ever thought you could do. Good job. 

Now go watch the game and have fun because you never know what tomorrow will bring. 

Our Next Two Weeks

Anita Beth's hip is fractured. So for the next two weeks expect lots
of pics of AB with girls on the couch. Notice the crutches in the
background. The good news is that I still have a puppy to walk. And
it's raining. The next two weeks should be fun.

Get Thy Family to Church

One of the most important responsibilities bestowed upon a Father is to get his family to church on Sunday mornings. It's so important that Ligon Duncan, the Minister at First Presbyterian Church of Jackson, has written articles on preparing your family for church and the sanctity of worship.

Some of Ligon's wise suggestions included putting the family and yourself to bed early on Saturday night so that you can awaken early and be fresh for Sunday morning; Listen to Hymns or other Christian music on Sunday morning as you prepare for church; Talk with your family about God and pray that God will be present and send his Holy Spirit into your place of worship on Sunday morning; Ride to church reverently and quietly so that your hearts are prepared for worship. These are wonderful tips that I would implore all readers to use in getting their familes to Sunday morning worship. In addition to Ligon's tips, I thought I'd add a few of my own, from the perspective of a Husband and father of three:

1. DO NOT drink four to six beers and then stay up until 1 a.m. Sunday morning watching Saturday Night Live, old Seinfelds and Law & Order reruns. At 7 a.m. you will have a difficult time hearing the alarm, unless you forgot to set it, in which case you won't hear it at all.

2. DO NOT forget to set your alarm. This will lead to waking up at 8 a.m. for a 9:30 service. When you live 30 minutes away from church, this simply isn't enough time. Your spouse will need an hour and ten minutes to get her and the three children ready enough to get in the car, but that pace won't be pleasant. If you can, get everbody up with an hour and thirty minutes to spare.

3. DO NOT try to motivate your spouse to get out of bed by acting as though you are angry that they have not gotten out of bed. This NEVER works. In fact, it usually backfires in ways that only slow the process down. Remember this: A cranky spouse is not a quickly dressed spouse. It's best to just bring the coffee to her side of the bed and hope she wakes up in time to do the kids' hair, because, chances are, you can't do hair. 

4. DO NOT tell your spouse she needs to get in the shower at a certain time. Your spouse believes as firmly as she believes in her intelligence that she can dress herself and three little girls in 27 minutes. Do not tell your spouse that her belief that she can dress herself and everybody else in 27 minutes is completely absurd. This only agitates your spouse and she will probably try to prove you wrong by giving herself 23 minutes to dress herself and everybody else. 

5. DO NOT put a sweater or a jacket on until you get to church. At the pace you'll be jumping after you forgot to set your alarm with a spouse who thinks she's Wonder Woman, you'll be sweating like a pig in a turtleneck by the time you finally get the family in the car. Your body will not regulate itself back to it's regular sweat-free temperature until about the time you pull into the church parking lot, unless you fail to follow tips 8, 9, and 10, in which case you will not need a sweater or a jacket at all. The van will be plenty hot. 

6. DO NOT tell your spouse to hurry up over and over again. While this may seem helpful, or maybe even encouraging, it's not. It only agitates your spouse and could lead to a heated exchange that deeply cuts into the 23 minutes your spouse has alotted for dressing and prepping. 

7. DO NOT sit down and watch Sports Center during your spouse's 23-minute sprint, especially if you just had the heated exchange you should have avoided in tip No. 6. This could push your spouse over the edge and force you into an untenable position, such as trying to braid your three-year-old's hair. Remember, you can't do hair. 

8. DO NOT tell your spouse to just stick with the first outfit she tried on. It doesn't work and doesn't help. Instead, try busying yourself with other necessary tasks like packing the baby's bag, or stopping your two-year-old from feeding inedible toys to your 9-month-old.

9. DO NOT prepare yourself a go-cup of coffee and not prepare one for your spouse. Following this tip could be the first step toward badly needed reconcilation on the way to Church after your failure to follow steps one through eight.

10. When all three kids are finally buckled up and your sweating in your car headed toward church, DO NOT tell your spouse that next week she needs to wake up earlier, especially if you are about to spend 30 minutes confined to the same vehicle. You would be safer in a tiger cage. 

11.  If somehow you have survived and you and the family are actually having a peaceful Sunday morning drive to church, do not kill the whole morning by huffing loudly when your spouse says she wants to spend time with you after church, even if your favorite NFL teams are playing each other that afternoon. The consequences to an ill-advised huff can be equal to failing to follow tips one through ten. Continue to breathe through your nose. Chances are she doesn't even mean it - she's just testing you because she can't believe you didn't completely butcher tips one through ten.

12. Finally, DO NOT, say anything, AT ALL, about your spouse's Mother, the cleanliness of the house, or the football games you plan to watch that afternoon, while on your way to church. If you fail to follow this tip after failing to heed tips one through ten, just pull into the nearest church and get out. It doesn't matter that it's not your church. Start pulling the kids from the car and saying in a loud voice you're there to visit this Sunday. This will surprise your spouse and buy you an hour or two to form an escape plan. 

If you mess up and break one of these bright-line rules, do not panic. Keep yourself, your family and the car headed toward church. Remember, it's not how you get to church, it's just the fact that you got to church at all. There's nothing like hearing the Gospel - how God, while we were still sinners, sent his only Son to die on the cross and take the punishment we deserve, to help your spouse forgive you for failing to follow any of this advice. Get there. 

We're Home!

While Addie wasn't looking, Audrey tried on her crown.

Pennies in the Fountain

After lunch everybody made a wish.

Brunch

We are enjoying brunch at Char.

Mississippi Blues Half-Marathon

I ran the Half-Marathon portion of the Mississippi Blues Marathon today. For the full report check out www.transrockiesrunners.blogspot.com. If you're just looking for pics of the girls you'll find some of those there, too. They were good little princess/cheerleaders. 

Shopping With Spike

Lucky for blog viewers, Addie and I had to return Spike's defective
chew toy. What a picture.

Baby and Puppy

Audrey is jealous of Spike's new chew toy.

How To Take Five Kids and a Puppy to the Park

1-1-09

In hopes of gloriously long afternoon naps, we loaded the kids up for an hour of play and picnicking at the local park yesterday. Though it ended with a little drama, we had a great time. I want others to enjoy the park the way we did yesterday, so here are few tips for your next picnic at the park.

 

1. DO NOT just assume you won't go with the rest of your family because it's New Year's Day and everbody knows you watch football all day in your pajamas on New Year's Day. This could result in a negative reaction from your spouse, who still may or may not have a broken hip.

2. DO quickly put your clothes on and get everybody ready to go to the park and jump in the car as though you had intended to go to the park the whole time. This will work. While your spouse may continue to be angry with you for ever acting as though you were not going to the park, this anger should subside by about the time you arrive at the park, so hang in there.

3. DO take your puppy to the park with you, even though there's a big sign at the park that says NO PETS ALLOWED. Your puppy will have fun and will be very popular with your children or other children. The worst thing that will happen is some crabby old lady driving a Cadillac Escalade may drive up to your car as you're leaving and tell you to read the sign. This is not a big deal. Just smile and tell the old hag you're sorry and you'll do better next time. She will drive off with no harm to come to you or your puppy. CAUTION: In some parks police actually may write a citation for having a pet in the park. The Adams Blog accepts no responsibility for any citation you may or may not get by taking your puppy to the park.

4. DO tell your mother to pick up food for the adults, too. Your spouse may actually be hungry but be too scared to tell your mother she would like to eat at the park too. This could result in a little extra moodiness on the way to the park, which you will not need if you failed to heed tip No. 1.

5. DO monitor your child while she is on the slide even if you can see her from the picnic table at which you are hurriedly stuffing your face with chicken and Abners sauce. There is a high likelihood that nothing at all will cause your child to fall and bite her lip all the while somehow remaining on the top of the slide. This probably would have happened even if you were at the slide with her, but at least you would have seen how it occurred and perhaps felt slightly less guilty.

6. DO NOT wear your favorite Oklahoma long-sleeved white t-shirt to the park. When your child bites his or her lip he or she will want to hug you for comfort. While this is sweet and you will want your child to feel better, your white shirt will look as though you had been the unfortunate victim of a park stabbing and you may not be able to wear said shirt anymore. If you do wear your Oklahoma shirt to the park, consider taking some shout wipes, or an extra shirt.

7. DO take extra pants for your nephew. Sometimes he gets a little excited about what he's doing and loses track of the consequences of drinking a whole CapriSun at the picnic. This results in a loud shriek that sounds not unlike the one which occurred in tip 5. This further results in half your party heading to the house, which leads to the decline of the good time had at the park. This also takes away very valuable extra hands and arms you desperately needed following tips 5 and 6. Bring pants.

8. DO veg out on football the rest of the day when you get home. The kids should nap beautifully. 

9. DO take your camera. You will get alot of great pictures at the park. There's something beautiful about a happy wife and three smiling kids.

 

10. DO enjoy the pics.

Sitting Around The Fire

Lessons In Family Travel

Here's a few tips I want to share with others who travel or plan to travel with three small kids and a puppy:

1. If really want to leave at a certain time, tell everybody else (including your spouse) a time two hours earlier than the time you actually want to leave. There's simply no way to plan in all the contingencies that accompany having three kids. For example, yesterday, when I came home from a half-day at the office expecting everybody to be relatively close to packed, I instead found a haggard Anita Beth leaning over the living room floor with Spike in one hand, picking up the thousands of Pixo beads that Addie had dumped on the floor. Thank you Santa. This test of dexterity and patience puts everyone in a foul mood. You try picking up a thousand bee-bee sized Pixo beads under time pressure. Picking up one thousand Pixos adds approximately 30 minutes to packing time.

2. If your Mother-in-Law calls and asks why you have not left the house yet, DO NOT, under any circumstances, tell her in a voice loud enough for your spouse to hear, that you haven't left because "Anita Beth (insert your spouse's name here) hasn't got everybody packed yet." This only adds to the foul mood created by picking up the Pixo beads and may lead to the cancellation of your trip. Avoid this statement. If you do accidently allow a statement like this to spring forth from your mouth, do not, I repeat DO NOT, try to validate the statement or yourself by asking your spouse who may or may not have a broken hip, what she was doing all morning. This statement is stupid, serves no good purpose and will have certain disastrous consequences. These statements add approximately 45 minutes to packing time.

3. Pack the night before. I know what you're thinking, "Duh, I could have told you that." But when you go out and have a few beers for a New Year's Eve Eve celebration (because nobody could find babysitters for the actual New Year's Eve) you're tired when you get home. And you think you'll have all morning the next day to get everybody packed the next day. Don't fall for this. Pack the night before. 

4. Do not allow your puppy to eat a bunch of food just before you pack and then try to pack without watching him. Chances are the puppy will lay a large, loose deposit on the shag carpet in your bedroom. If you do accidentally allow the puppy to make said deposit on the shag carpet, do not, I repeat, DO NOT try to immediately pick up the poop with toilet paper. While this may be a good idea or a wood floor or regular carpet, it spells certain doom for shag carpet. Let the poop harden, then pick it up. Otherwise you will find yourself dumping gallons of water on the pooped upon shag carpet and using up four to five rags getting all poop remnants out of the shag carpet. This adds approximately 30 minutes to packing time.

5. Do not provide your children with desktop coloring tablets in their car seats. While this sounds like a good idea, it only leads to tears and heart ache. Stick to DVD's and loud threats. Colors don't work. This does not add any time to the car trip, but does bring back the foul mood that had only recently subsided following tips 1, 2, 3 and 4.

6. Have fun. 

Gotta go. Everbody's crying. 

Happy New Year!