Anatomy of Laundry

With three boys laundry piles up quickly. I don't mind folding clothes especially if it can be done while catching up on my favorite TV shows. What amazes me is how long it takes to fold it all. I can fold my own clothes in 5 minutes or less. Why then does it take me 20 minutes to fold my children's clothes? Two words: Quantity and Ambiguity.

The quantity of little things (socks, undies etc.) is ridiculous. I swear my children go through their entire wardrobes weekly. Luckily the little stuff doesn't take up a lot of room or else we would have to buy a second dryer. As they approach high school this may become a reality, but at least for now we can delay that pruchase.
 
Add to this the ambiguity of sorting 4T from 5T and that's why it takes so darn long. I have to check the tag on every single pair of pants and every shirt to see who it belongs to. Note that this rarely applies to the baby because it is pretty easy to tell an 18-month outfit from a 4T or 5T, but every once in a while I catch myself doing it.
 
Also it is worth noting that when my clothes go in the laundry they are all right side out, with my boys not so much. My children must think that there is a little fairy who lives in the washer or dryer that magically turns their clothes right side out again. Well let me tell you there is no fairy but there is definitely a sucker!

I think I'm going to fold all of their clothes inside out just once. Would they attempt to wear them inside out at first? Do you think they would get the hint? I think this hypothesis is definitely worth testing.

Phrases Children Don't Understand

It never ceases to amaze me when parents awash with disappointment leer sternly at their children and say things that seem well-intentioned on the surface but in reality come out making the parent look dumber than the child. Here are the three I heard most recently.

How many times have do I have to tell you...

• What do you hope to accomplish by asking this question? Are you honestly asking your child a rhetorical question? Children don't understand sarcasm and they certainly don't understand which questions are meant to be answered and which are not. Plus if you actually have to ask how many times you have told them something then what you are doing definitely isn't working and I suggest an alternate strategy for getting through to them. 1-2-3 Magic works for us!
  

I can't take you anywhere

• Really? Anywhere? Now I know that this one is normally uttered out of complete exasperation but you would need a live in maid to rectify that situation. Until then please steer clear of the superlatives, because you know that you will be reloading the minivan tomorrow and repeating the process. Lather - Rinse - Repeat!
  

Focus (Thought not technically a phrase I felt it deserved honorable mention)

• Are you serious? Focus on what? I know it is a simple word, but unless I stick a chocolate bar in front of my kids they don't understand focus. A focused child is like a UFO sighting. I've heard that it happens, but I've never seen it in person.

Now I'm really going to have to watch out that I don't use these phrases lest I be chastised by my wife and friends who would not miss the opportunity to call me a hypocrite. Feel free to submit any phrases you feel deserving of lampooning to the Feats of Fatherhood page on Facebook.

Cleaning Up After Baby

When the time comes for baby to begin graduating from milk only to solid foods it is often a sad occasion since it marks the beginning of the end of cleanliness. Not that babies are 100% clean before they begin eating solid foods, since there is always a need to carry a burp rag for the inevitable spit up, but once they begin eating solid foods we go through more bibs and wet wipes than Joe's Crab Shack during Crabfest. Add to that the high chair/booster seat which might as well be hosed off after dinner due to the remnants of cereal, slobber, and other food scraps and one can understand why the introduction of solid foods is met by experienced parents with the slightest tinge of ire.

This period of decreasing cleanliness (or increased messiness depending on your outlook on life) can be enough to drive some parents crazy. It drove us crazy with our first child or two. Then we learned that the area within a 5 foot radius of baby will never be clean and it is futile to try and keep said area debris-free for extended periods of time. The best one can do is to keep the destruction zone to a minimum.

Here are some hard and fast rules for keeping that area as clean as possible:

1. Do not seat baby close to any walls. Walls will match whatever baby is having for dinner.
2. Do not seat baby close to your other children. Children will attempt to lovingly feed baby. This often resembles a force feeding and should be avoided at all costs.
3. Unless the feeder bib looks like a straight-jacket do not feed baby in clothes that you intend the baby to wear for more than the next 30 minutes.
4. Do not seat baby within arms length of the dinner table. Ever seen the movie trick where someone grabs the tablecloth and jerks it out from under the dishes? Yeah, it's kind of like that except the dishes come with it when the baby grabs the tablecloth.

The astute reader will notice that I have left few places safe to actually feed the baby. There are two places I can think of that will work nicely: outside or in the bathtub. These are the only safe places to feed baby. If you decide not to follow my rules you do so at your own risk.

For the record I have considered busting out the Christmas tree skirt and putting it under his chair when he eats just to make the cleanup easier. Could you imagine just being able to pick up the skirt and shake it off outside after dinner? No more sweeping and mopping under the baby's chair after meals! I think I've found the next great invention! Someone call Babies R Us.

Trip to the Pharmacy

Antonio had to get a prescription filled "after hours" last night so we (Antonio, Angelo and myself) went in search of a 24-hour pharmacy. They were behaving so wonderfully that I decided that they could each choose a candy bar to snack on while we waited the 45-minutes for the prescription to be filled. At that time of night I was floored to have such a long wait. I explained that my son was having an allergic reaction and would like to have the medication dispensed ASAP. She told me that there were several people ahead of me seeking flu medication. I thought to myself yes, but the people suffering from the flu won't unleash an unholy terror on this Walgreens like my two pre-schoolers will, especially after I amp them up with a little chocolate. I think she could see that in my eyes.

So we mosey on over to the candy aisle and proceed to engage in an endless ebb and flow of Angelo grabbing something and then Antonio choosing something different and then Angelo choosing what Antonio chose then Antonio changing his mind etc. Repeat this cycle for about 10-15 minutes all the while explaining to Angelo why he won't like licorice flavored candy straws, or jalapeno spiced nougat or whatever else they put within arms length of 3-year olds on the candy aisle. Did I mention this all took place within earshot of the pharmacy? Let's just say that I ended up making the executive decision to buy something for all appetites (a package of Riesen a roll of Sweettarts, a bottle of cream soda) and we called it quits.

I'm certain the pharmacist could hear this commotion because no sooner had we purchased our delectable desserts than I hear my name paged over the intercom. 45 minutes quickly turned into 15. Much to the surprise of the other waiting patrons we sashayed to the pharmacy paid and quickly left.

Flattery may get you everywhere, but screaming kids will get you whatever you want faster.

Driving to Michigan "Vacation"

Insanity is not the cause of having multiple children it is the result. As a parent of three pre-school boys I do consider myself a bit nutty, however what we attempted a couple of weeks ago bordered on insanity. Two parents, three kids, and Grandpa in a minivan for nearly 21 straight hours driving from Dallas to Detroit certainly qualifies. We departed Dallas in the evening around 8 PM Central so that we could drive through the night and make the best time possible.

Throughout my travels I have learned to pack exactly what is needed for the trip (no more and only occasionally less). My children don't know how to pack for themselves so that task fell to Mommy, who proceeded to pack half of their wardrobe. Add to this her stuff, and my dad's stuff, cooler, snacks, toys, pillows etc. and I couldn't see out the back window, we maxed out the Stow N Go, and had to jockey things around to get into and out of the car. Needless to say we were cozy.

There are two nearly equidistant routes one is more northern and goes through Oklahoma, Missouri, Illinois, and Indiana. The southern route includes Arkansas, Tennessee, and Kentucky. Both include Ohio. We opted for the southerly route which included getting pulled over between Little Rock and Memphis around 2AM. Now I'm sure the police officer was thinking "Texas plates, middle of Arkansas, middle of the night, can't see through the back window, they must be up to no good." Oh little did he know! What he got a taste of as he approached was Antonio sleeping, Giancarlo crying, Angelo pretend sword fighting against unseen enemies, and three adults wondering why we were being delayed. He asked where we were headed and when I said Michigan he replied factually "That's a long drive" and his lingering look subconsciously told me "You must be out of your mind!" He wasn't far off the mark, and so he let us go and we kept on rolling.

Gas and Go throughout the night, but the impediments began just north of Nashville when the children awoke. Of course we made an obligatory pit stop and Mickey D's for breakfast. No indoor play area and it was raining outside. Lovely. My children need an athletic outlet and aside from streaking between the restroom and the table they certainly didn't get the workout I had hoped for. Also both older boys had to go #2.

Armed with a pair of portable DVD players we returned to the road. Pit stop in Louisville. Antonio and Angelo go #2. Pit stop in Cincinnati boys go #2. Pit Stop south of Toledo...boys go #2. Notice a pattern? Like animals marking their collective territories my kids feel the need to christen one toilet per state minimum. What's the deal with that?

So about 5:30 PM Eastern we roll into Detroit and crash at my Grandma's house. Luckily she lives next door to a park where the kids were able to get out and run off some of their pent up energy. The trip went about as well as could be expected but we learned our lesson and on the return trip we decided to get a hotel room. After all vacation should be about relaxation.

Honestly, Who is Responsible for the Infant Clothing?

So the other day I had sole responsibility for all three boys and after getting the older two off to bed I was left alone with the baby. No sweat right. Right! So Giancarlo who was wearing one part Eau de Butternut Squash, one part milk residue and one part drool was due for a change of clothes. So I whisk him off to his room and attempt to find a new outfit so that daddy can have some quiet time. Like any loving parent would do I strapped him down on the changing table to ensure he didn't roll off and then I grabbed the first outfit I saw. It said 6-9 months so I figured surely my son being only 7 months old it will fit. Well let's just say that after I wedged all of his rolls into the outfit that he looked more like an Olympic power lifter than a baby. Giancarlo was visibly uncomfortable so I decided that a different outfit was in order. Having learned my lesson the first time I opted for the one that said 12 months. This one was much looser but the disheartening thing was that it had more buttons that the cockpit of an F-16. I mean honestly who designed the 10-button romper? Why can't they just put Velcro on there or something? In this age of technology there has got to be something better.

So here are my recommendations for baby clothes manufacturers:

1. The size on the label should closely resemble my children. 6 months should mean 6 months. Yes, we grow bigger than average infants in this house but they aren't twice the size of children their age. Until the manufacturers adjust I will have to keep subtracting 3 to 6 from whatever the manufacturer says to find an approximation for my kids.
2. Find a way to make a romper with 6 buttons. 7 max. Double digits is unacceptable at anytime not to mention fumbling around at 2 AM changing a diaper in the dark.
3. Explore alternate means of fastening. Velcro, Zip-Lock, double-sided tape whatever. I'm willing to explore new options.

I'm almost ready to dress up baby like a Halloween ghost! I'm going to cut a hole in the top of a pillowcase, one for each arm, and cinch it at the waist with some rope. Who's coming with me?

New Athletic Moves

Over the course of the last few weeks the boys have been ratcheting up the intense rivalry that is common in young boys, scratch that all boys. The newest installment includes variations on base jumping, arm barring, bronc busting and lassoing. I'll explain:

Base Jumping: commonly done by professionals and just crazy people with parachutes. My kids satisfy one criterion namely craziness. They believe the stairs to be their own personal base jumping apparatus and they keep trying it from new heights. Antonio is now attempting to make it to the landing from the 5th stair. Angelo is still on the 3rd. Rarely do they land on their feet. They are lucky to land on all fours. A couple of days ago Antonio attempted to jump from a running start down the stairs. Let's just say that the slide into the front door was about as graceful as I've ever seen an almost five year old make.

The Arm Bar: a.k.a. "The Heisman." The spontaneous twitch that causes a sibling's arm to fly straight out to one side in order to block the other from accomplishing a task. It is often accompanied by the phrases "Me First" and "Hey Wait." It has been spotted in a few places around the house including as the kids are running down the stairs and as a precursor to base jumping. It has also been known to occur in the race to see who gets to open the car door. Antonio is taller, lankier, faster and ultimately better equipped to deliver the arm bar, but Angelo is by far more cunning in so far as I have thrice seen him evade the arm bar by ducking, twisting and just flat out running over Antonio.

Bronc Busting: Seen commonly in Rodeos and in nearly every Western movie. I actually caught Antonio trying to sit on Angelo the other day. Not only that but he had a blanket over Angelo's back and was attempting to ride him like a horse. Antonio explained later that the blanket was just like what cowboys put under their saddles when they ride horses. Here I was thinking he was torturing his brother and in his mind he was being quite considerate. I immediately put a stop to it, but can swear I hear it outside my door while I'm on conference calls.

Lassoing: One of the most basic cowboy skills. My boys take this to new places. Last time I saw them they were upstairs with a blanket over the arm of the couch (they are big on the whole blanket between them and the riding object) and were waving their belts in the air like lassos. Unfortunately they were fighting over who got to ride and lasso and it's not like the couch has two arms on it or anything right? Anyway Angelo decided to exact a little revenge on Antonio by grabbing the "lasso" while Antonio was waving it around and he yanked him off the couch. Antonio came down with a thud and having witnessed the previous bronc busting event I had a hard time not wetting myself laughing. Ah...sweet revenge.

I am a bit frightened about what may be coming in the near future but so far all fingers and toes are intact and they only have a few bruises to show for it and in my book that's a victory.

How Many Cheerios Can Fit In...

I noticed Angelo this morning had a cup full of Cheerios in the downstairs living room but didn't give it a second thought since he was snacking on them as he normally does. However, later while I was sitting downstairs I heard him proudly proclaiming that his brother's sword was full. I apprehensively shouted upstairs to him, "Full of what"? After receiving no response I ascended the stairs fearing the worst. When he saw me and ducked behind the couch I knew the answer couldn't be good. The pile of smashed Cheerios that littered the floor confirmed my suspicion. Sure enough Angelo had packed about three dozen Cheerios into the hilt and the sword sounded like a maraca when swung.

Needless to say Angelo ended up in his room in timeout which I could tell hurt his feelings. I went to the bathroom with the sword and shook it until all the Cheerios came out in the sink (about 2 minutes). After doing so I went in to Angelo's room and explained that I wasn't mad at him, but that I was disappointed that he was wasting food and made a huge mess. Had he stuffed the sword with anything else (Legos, Playmobil pieces etc.) I would not have been angry at all and it would have demonstrated an advanced understanding of spatial relationships and problem solving skills. He understood and gave me a big hug and the playing continued...this time without Cheerios.

This is not the first time we have found food upstairs. My two little Houdinis always manage to pilfer food out of the refrigerator or pantry while we aren't looking and sneak away with it. The remnants we normally find include half-eaten bananas, wrappers, apple cores etc. As a result we are now enforcing a strict no food upstairs policy to combat the covert food legerdemain. We are also considering a pad lock on the refrigerator and and a biometric lock for the pantry. Retinal scan anyone? With a third mini-man appetite on the horizon now may be a good time to look into food security.

Expectation Chart = Obedience

We figured it was time for the kids to begin earning allowances (at least the two older ones anyway) so Misty went to the store and procured a simple dry erase chore chart that we now prominently display on the refrigerator door. Amazing that just today we began setting chores for the kids and to our collective amazement the children immediately began to fall in line. Chores for the boys are relatively simple but definitely show cognitive ability beyond our wildest hopes. Non-negotiable responsibilities are as follows: make bed, put dishes in the dishwasher, clean up toys. Bonus responsibilities include being nice to each other/no timeouts for the day, eating dinner promptly.

I can proudly say that both boys were 5 for 5 today. Amazing what putting the key responsibilities on paper and objectively measuring performance against the expectations will get you...or is it? I spend most of my day finding ways to inspect what I expect from my job. Children are no different from adults in this respect it seems. Individuals will continuously push the envelope as far as they can until someone pushes back. Our push back today was to employ an expectation chart. For my job it is done with spreadsheets but the principle is the same. Tell people the metrics against which they will be measured and then actually measure them.

The payoff for the boys: we agreed to pay them each $1 per week if they receive checks for the non-negotiables. The bonus adds an additional TBD amount at the discretion of the parents that is subjective and depends perhaps most importantly on how much cash Daddy has in his wallet at the end of the week.

Antonio wants to save his money for more Playmobil figurines. He loves checking off the boxes at the end of the day. He is a trail-blazing rule-following excited little boy who can't wait to do what is expected of him to earn both praise and check marks. Angelo wants to ensure that he has at least as many checks as Antonio. Any questions, see earlier post titled "Making Sibling Rivalry Work for You."

Child Psychology 101: No Doesn't Really Mean No

I have often wondered why the word no and its various synonyms (stop, quit, don't etc.) tend to go unheeded a majority of the time when spoken by parents to their children. Dirty looks, furrowed brows and sneers are often met with the same kind of indifference. Mine for instance take varying approaches to avoid whatever it is that I want them to eschew; not out of malicious intent but merely out of forgetfulness. I think it is at best a momentary lapse of faculties and at worse a covert and highly planned obstinacy whereby my children are trying to drive me mad. In this exciting episode we shall explore how my two older children are trying to send me to the funny farm, but first let us take a look at what doesn't work for me.

• The Look: You know the look. One part sneer, one part pursed lips, one angrily pointed finger [optional], and a look of Medusa-like instantaneous death upon anyone who gazes upon you. The look works for some of my friends, but it does not work on my kids.
• Raised Voice: The tone of my voice has no bearing whatsoever on the actions of my children. One would think that the level of attentiveness shown by my children would increase with the loudness and pitch of my voice, but one would be mistaken. They just raise their voices in reply to drown me out. Since I abhor loudness I gave this one up a while back.
• Sarcasm: For those of you who know me you know that I'm good at it. Totally wasted on my kids. I think it is an age thing. I'll put the sarcasm in my back pocket and bust it out when they are teenagers. For now I choose to not throw my proverbial pearls of sarcastic wisdom before swine.

Let us now take a look at my children individually. Antonio thinks that the word "No" is the first part of the new word "Nogotiable" (formed by combining the words No and Negotiable). Ever the salesman Antonio is quite adept at overcoming objections. For him "No" is just the beginning as he steps into Monty Hall's shoes and says "Let's Make a Deal." On countless occasions he has been able to weasel his way out of punishment because his retort to NO is so hilarious that Misty and I have trouble keeping a straight face. A few days ago we told him to stop playing around at the dinner table and eat. In true Italian response he shot both hands out in front if him and began to shake them to stress his point and said "I don't like that deal but I will take three more bites and then you will give me dessert." Yesterday we asked him to stop doing something and his retort amounted to "Well how about I do this and you just leave me alone. Okay? Okay!" Needless to say the parents often have more than a little trouble holding it together. I can't tell if this kid is going to grow up to be an attorney or a salesman but at the very least he will be a lot of fun to take to the flea market, because this kid haggles about everything.

Angelo on the other hand thinks that No simply means "No, until you look the other way." It's like talking to a brick wall sometimes. We tell him to stop doing something and he pauses...only to return to it 30 seconds later. Then when you catch him doing it again and reprimand him he turns on the puppy dog eyes and starts to tear up and then claims that he "no longer likes Mommy/Daddy because we are mean to him." Or sometimes when you catch him in the act of doing something verboten he looks at you as if to say "Oh you were serious about that? Had I but known that you really wanted me to stop I would have given it some serious thought." Not that he actually would have stopped but he would have seriously considered it. In either instance the intended result is far from the actual.

I love my children dearly and I have seen glimpses of Antonio trying to be a better listener and applying what we say (which I'm certain comes with age and maturity). Angelo is not quite there yet, but I am hopeful that he will follow in his brother's footsteps since we plan to shower Antonio with praise and lavish rewards once he is able to moderate his own actions/responses. I ask for your prayers for our sanity during this time of childish irrationality and we are hopeful that if our friends with 3 children (or more) can make it through this phase that so can we.

Summer Is Here - Oh Crap!

Parting is such sweet sorrow. Never has that been more true than today when we bid adieu to preschool. It is with great sadness that we close the book on yet another school year for the boys. Gone is the dependability of scheduling important conference calls on Tuesday and Thursday mornings. Gone are the days that Misty can be certain she will be grocery shopping with only 1/3 of the trifecta. Gone are the dependable recovery days in which we could seek respite from the previous day's insanity.

Summer arrives this year with impeccable timing. This morning Antonio and Angelo woke up at sunrise...and it gets earlier every day. My loving children were up around 6AM this morning. In itself not a bad thing, however at approximately 6:15 AM the bickering and fighting began. I have a hard time handling these kids when I am well prepared for them let alone early in the morning. As I am still wiping the sleep from my eyes they begin to wail on one another with whatever is within arm's length. Before I know it they have relocated to the kitchen and begin to serve themselves breakfast. Screams abound as to who gets to grab the bowls, spoons, milk and cereal. Nothing cheery about the Cheerios this morning. My one redemption was the knowledge that the kids had school today. But alas no longer...

Summer camp aboard the International Space Station not withstanding we are at a loss as to how we will manage these hoodlums for the next few months. I'm certain that as other families find themselves in similar scenarios that playgroups will abound just to ensure that the kids get their batteries drained and their mothers stay sane. In the meantime I will be the guy cowering in his home office refusing to come out save for the occasional meal (how awesome is the in-office bathroom now?). I am currently plotting an alternate escape route that will eschew the inevitable carnage that awaits me downstairs. Best idea thus far involves a window escape via rope ladder that I can use to exit stage left, scale down the house and bear crawl to my car with any luck unnoticed. Hey, a guy can dream can't he?

Have a great Summer!

Parental Assessment - Gains/Losses

Now that we have 3 children I am taking an assessment of what we have gained and lost. This list is by no means exhaustive, and I'm sure over time more can and will be added. The entries that made the short list of gains/losses are:

Gained:

• Three boys who look similar and act completely differently.
• A firm grasp of the mother's curse. I actually ended up with three boys just like me. FYI the mother's curse is very real. I now understand why I thought my parents were constantly on the verge of going crazy...I thought it was just an expression but it REALLY WAS my fault!
• A deep respect for those with more children. I honestly don't know how they do it. I am ready to waive the white flag and take a vow of chastity. Plenty of time for sex after Misty hits menopause.
  
• A true understanding of how golden silence can be. There is nothing like the 5 minute respite that follows bedtime.
  
• A sense of wonder that children live to become adults. If we didn't love our children there is a large probability that we would forgo the continuation of the species and live comfortably with a pair of Golden Retrievers.
• A comfy pair of flip flops that I wear around the house to avoid stepping on sharp-cornered objects like Matchbox cars and Playmobil pieces. I used to go barefoot but have learned my lesson after what I will call "unintended acupuncture." Hello tetanus shot!
  
• A pair of toy boxes and multiple toy bins to house the aforementioned sharp-cornered items. My kids' toys have more storage than a 747.
• A minivan. Say what you will about the old daddy wagon but there is no way we could cram three kids into an Accord (at least not if both parents wanted to ride in the car simultaneously) nor is there any way I could afford to gas up a mammoth SUV. Ample seating + gas mileage = minivan, no way around it.
  

Lost:

• Hair...a lot of it.
• Hair Color (Applies to Misty only)...my hair that would have gone gray simply fell out.
• Patience. Maybe I had more of it when I only had one child nipping at my heels, but now my concept of patience has changed drastically. My patience now extends to the length of my arm plus a wooden spoon.
• Timeliness. I was always a person who was on time, and if I wasn't on time I was early. Now I consider it a good day if I am + 30 minutes from the desired ETA. (Note the absence of +/-...minus doesn't ever happen).
• There are many things that we go without to provide for our children. I personally gave up on athleticism, a low handicap and reason. Misty chipped in her sanity. Together we make quite a pair. Now our toughest decision is Mojito or Sangria? (After bedtime of course)!
  
• Cleanliness. I used to be fanatical about cleaning up all the toys at the end of the day and before the kids went to bed. Now I am more than content to run the gauntlet and slalom my way through the toys on the way to my office in the morning. It is as close to skiing as I will get until for at least the next 5 years.
  
• Notion of "Free Time." Free time is noted only as the time I can squeeze in between all things that need to be done (laundry, dishes, making the boys' lunches for the next day, cleaning up the messes left behind, etc.). Basically there ain't a whole lot of it.

It is called the daily grind for a reason. If you cannot relate you should definitely come over and baby sit to gain a deeper personal understanding of our daily grind.

What Does It Mean To Be A Child?

Today I was thinking about my children during an all too infrequent quiet moment and I asked myself what it meant to be a child. Clearly being young is a key ingredient but there are many young people who are quite intelligent: cross that one off. Some might characterize it by a lack of responsibility although I know many adults (not the least of which are my unmarried friends) to whom I could apply that logic, so that cannot be the answer. After all of my metacognitive searching I have boiled it down to one thing. Imagination.

To be small and to think big is a hallmark of being a child. Children have a knack for turning a cardboard box into a castle, a belt into a lasso, an empty roll of paper towels into a telescope, and a broken stick into a sword. Children can watch a movie and become a character: blankets become capes and stuffed animals come alive. They are captivated by magical stories, they believe that anything is possible which is a trait they share with inventors and visionaries the world over. Our world is ruled by those who seek to make our tiny planet more than what it was and have the ability to see the future and what can be. This is why imagination is so critical to progress. I think the following quote from George Bernard Shaw's play Man and Superman explains it best:

"The reasonable man adapts himself to the world; the unreasonable one persists in trying to adapt the world to himself. Therefore all progress depends on the unreasonable man."

Somewhere along the way as we become adults we grow big and think small. This probably happens gradually, but certainly when we have children of our own we begin to think less about grandeur and more about the basics of providing for our families. How ironic that the imagination we outgrew long ago is our key to connecting with our children. Children need discipline, but they need to be encouraged to expand their imaginations and these two need not be diametrically opposed. Discipline is needed at certain times, but not at all times. Children must be free at times to run wild, skin their knees, and bust their lips. They must be allowed to grow through trial and error. We cannot teach them everything (nor would I want to). Some things they must experience for themselves.

It should be the primary concern of parents to strive for the delicate balance between discipline and imagination. If a parent is too overbearing the children will be coerced or scared into doing what is right and once they leave the nest they will surely rebel. No one likes to be micromanaged...least of all children. Yet on the other hand to allow children to do whatever they want to do is not a form of parenting, it is actually quite the opposite and a total abdication of parental responsibilites. If a parent is too lax then the children will show no respect to the parents (or others for that matter) since children need structure to grow into well-formed adults. To borrow a phrase from Suze Orman we as parents need to be willing to say, "No out of love instead of yes out of fear."

An old adage states that "everything is good in moderation including moderation." We should apply this to parenting as well. I believe that we can and should educate our children in the ways of the world, but let us not forget to allow them time to be children. My kids won't be applying to colleges for at least another dozen years so I think we have ample time to let them frolic and not obsess over learning too much too soon. Childhood does not last forever so we should enjoy as much of their young lives as we can before they grow into adults themselves.

How Church Rubs Off On Kids

In a fit of hunger about a couple of weeks ago I was at my dad's house and I grabbed the Betty Crocker Dessert Cookbook off the shelf and set about to find a recipe that would satisfy my sweet tooth that had been gradually increasing over the course of Lent. So many of my friends and family had given up desserts of one sort or another for Lent whilst I decided to give up alcohol. With two preschoolers and a new baby would I have rather given up sweets you betcha, but I digress. So I come across a recipe for Brandy Alexander Pie (which is a decadent chocolate pudding mixed with heavy cream and quite a bit of brandy) and I am salivating. I'm counting down the days till Easter.

Fast forward to Easter weekend. We go grocery shopping for the ingredients to make said dessert and we are short on chocolate wafers. Our choices were either chocolate graham crackers or Oreo cookies. We opted for the Oreo's figuring we would scrape out the white stuff in the middle and just use the cookies. Bonus: feed the white stuff to the boys and get them all hyped up on sugar so that they will eventually go into sugar shock and crash. Always seek the positive: early bedtime for the kids certainly qualifies.

We ended up using almost the entire package of Oreo's just to make the crust for the Brandy Alexander Pie. No I'm not interested in the calorie count. Needless to say we were left with a plate full of "white stuff" chips which our kids begin siphoning rapidly. It is always dangerous to have little hands around the cooking surface (not to mention little trip hazards hovering around your ankles) so Daddy decides to walk the plate of white stuff outside and begins divvying the chips out to the kids. In the process of handing them out I hold out a chip to Antonio to which he looks up at me and says "This is the Body of Christ." So amazed was I that I asked him to repeat what he said just so that I could be sure I didn't misunderstand. Sure enough it is exactly what he said. I am taken aback at a 4-year old who has yet to receive First Communion and recognizes that the "white stuff chips" are so very similar looking to the "Wafers" we receive in the Eucharist. It really validates me as a parent to see my child associate the mundane with something other-worldly.

Now Sunday School will be wrapping up in the next few weeks and Antonio will be sitting through mass with us all Summer. I hope he will be able to listen and retain some of what he hears...time will tell. It will be interesting since he is a typical 4-yr old and generally lacks the ability to sit quietly in one place for more than 5 minutes. Luckily we almost always sit next to families with similar aged children and I can only hope that they will be understanding of our plight. Odds are that over the course of the Summer we'll have another installment of "Kids Say the Darnedest Things." Stay tuned.

Potty Training Update

A couple of weeks ago I was approached via email to participate in a contest to win a 6-month supply of Pull-Ups. The deal was this: since my blog has spoken at length about the woes of potty training and Pull-Ups was promoting a media campaign about the "Potty-Dance" (you can look it up on You Tube) if I went to a website and added my blog postings I would be in the running. Now the "e-marketing machine" is frought with banking deals from Nigerian millionaires and credit card phishing scams, but this one was totally legit. I did a little leg work on the back end and saw that the company promoting this had other large clients aside from Kimberly Clark which gave me a little hope. Well lo and behold late last week I received an email telling me I had won and asked what size Angelo is and my home address. Yesterday they arrived. A box with 6 packages of 3T-4T Pull-Ups. Yeah!

The only thing cooler than free Pull-Ups is not neeeding to have your child wear them. Which is where we find Angelo at this very moment. Talk about irony! You take out a 2nd Mortgage to pay for diapers and a get a truckload of them delivered to your doorstep when you no longer need them. Better late than never I guess. Since they don't expire we may just keep them for Giancarlo who will no doubt need them in a couple of years.

In celebration of Angelo's potty training we took the boys to Chuck E Cheese on Tuesday as we promised to do when Angelo was totally trained. We made a big deal out of it and we made sure we did it up right. We had pizza, played games, and even indulged in a little cotton candy for a treat. My only complaint is that most of the games that my kids want to play are too big for them to play. Now I can play Skee Ball with the best of them, but Angelo has a problem getting the ball up the ramp. I think it is one part coordination and one part length of ramp, but that didn't stop him from giving it his all. Besides I don't think they will remember their high scores so much as they will remember they they had fun.

Favorite games: First off they both had to ride the horse (like that surprises anyone who knows my kids). Antonio anything with a gun. Big Game Hunter 2, some Wild West Shoot Out game, basically anything where you can shoot bad guys. Angelo wanted to play every car, plane, jet ski simulator possible. He is all about racing, down to his little Speed Racer undies.

I am so proud of Angelo for taking the next step toward becoming a truly big boy! He appears to be using this as a springboard toward acting older every day. As if he needed to grow up any quicker.

Making Sibling Rivalry Work For You

Potty Training Angelo has been quite difficult (as I have noted in the past). Misty and I realized a few weeks ago that we needed to rethink our methods of enticing Angelo to the toilet. Taking away things in the past resulted in a standoffish child that was no more ready to use the toilet than our cat. Our tactics have evolved to deal with this omnipresent threat to our collective sanity and the landfills.

We realized that the carrot and stick approach we were offering to change his behavior didn't really speak to Angelo. Yes he enjoyed treats when we gave them to him, but they were very much out of sight out of mind later in the day. We would all forget about them. Then we got the idea that we would promise him a trip to Chuck E Cheese if he would go in the potty for a solid week. I think a week is a difficult concept of time for a child who is not yet three years old. Nonetheless we tried it and it worked for a while, but eventually failed just like the rest of our best-laid plans.

Then a couple of days ago Mommy had a brilliant idea. It was so brilliant that I let out a fiendish snicker after I heard it. Here goes: Mommy parades Angelo around Check E Cheese and shows him everything he will get to do when goes potty all the time. She even goes to the token machine and buys enough tokens to play Skee-Ball until your arm falls off. Then she brings the him home and begins to dole out the tokens (1 for #1, 2 for #2) to which Angelo replied that he would go #3...I think that means both at the same time, but I'm not 100% sure. We also noted that if he went in his diaper we would take the same number of tokens away.

Sure enough this kid is clipping right along collecting tokens until all of a sudden his potty training zealousness wanes. He begins soiling his diapers again so we begin to subtract tokens. His mountain of coins began to dwindle until he was down to one. This see-saw battle had to end.

Enter sibling rivalry. Yesterday we officially announced that every time Angelo went in his diaper that he would not be giving the token back to us, but instead he would be giving them to his older brother.

Talk about a child who is now on fire for going potty in the toilet! My only worry was that Antonio would try to prevent him from going in the toilet, but he is simply not that kind of brother. Angelo hasn't missed a beat since our fiat yesterday. Angelo was even dry when he woke up this morning! He is all about strutting into Chuck E Cheese chest out, chin up, dragging a bag o' coins behind him and ready to claim his spider ring minions. This kid has the potential to buy his own CEC franchise with all the tickets he is going to win.

Now I'm not saying that he is fully potty trained, but he is well on his way. I think a little sibling rivalry can be a good thing every now and then, especially when it is applied to a constructive end.

What's The Deal With Dinner?

I can't understand why my children have such a problem eating dinner as a family at the table. We really don't have problems for breakfast or lunch, but for some reason dinner time is when the wheels on the bus completely fall off. It is so difficult to get them to even eat half of what's on their plates before the antics start. My children think that dinner time is basically their own personal times to be as disobedient as possible. I personally think that they save it up all day only to release it at the dinner table. Everything from crawling under the table, to throwing food, to "he's putting his foot in my face" (don't laugh this happened tonight). I'm really getting sick of this because after a long day the last thing I want to do is play part WWF Referee and part wet nurse.

We have tried so many different ways to get them to eat. We've tried earlier dinners, later dinners, smaller dinners, and feeding them something totally different for dinner all to no avail. We have even tried some carrot and stick approaches. My top 5 are below:

• Promises of Dessert - I personally think that Mommy blew this one for us. She caved in regularly in the past so now the kids are reluctant to believe her when she tells them that there will be no dessert unless they eat dinner. Advantage Kids.
• Promises to Stay Up Later- Right. Totally not a currency they truly grasp at this point in time. Not to mention that Antonio has his own concept of bedtime (more like T + 2 hours if we are lucky).
• Spankings - Oh yes, that's right spankings. Call it an adult temper tantrum, but there is nothing like the crack of a wooden spoon on an obstinate child's hiney. Sweet music!
• We'll Watch Your Favorite Movie After Dinner - Yeah...like they care! This only works if their favorite movie is "Guess What I Hid Under the Table!"
• I'll Give You $1 Million If You Will Be Quiet and Eat Your Dinner - Since they have no concept of money I thought it would be worth a try. Rejected.

Nothing seems to work. I can't get the kids to eat anything we cook no matter how appetizing, but when we go to Costco the kids will eat everything in sight so long as it is served on a toothpick or in a dixie cup. Actually I might be on to something here. From now on we will be serving chicken nuggets, cocktail weenies, and taquitos on toothpicks for dinner. Anything less solid like pasta or vegetables will now be served in dixie cups. Who cares if their dinner plates look like party service trays? As far as I'm concerned problem solved!

Time To Get Angelo Out Of Diapers

I realize that Angelo is not yet 3 years old but I am going to have to put my foot down after the pre-breakfast joy I experienced this morning. First I must set the stage. For those of you who are not acquainted with Angelo (a.k.a the Dr. of Destruction) he could care less whether his diaper weighs 4 pounds and hangs down to his knees. To the untrained eye one would surmise that he was trying to smuggle out a shot put in his 3T pants. Yesterday he was waddling around the living room when I asked him if he needed a diaper change. His response was "not yet." Imagine if you will a diaper-clad penguin waddling through the living room and you will get the gist of what I'm talking about. This has become something of a daily routine as he will hide or go to another room to take care of his business and then waddle in our midst as if nothing has changed. Normally a diaper change is no big deal, but this morning got out of control.

So as I was trying to make toast Angelo insisted that he "help." Help in quotations because when my children "help" it often takes 5 times longer than when I go it alone. So I have to pick up Angelo to put the bread in the toaster, since it resides at the back of the counter top for obvious reasons. About 30 seconds later I look down at my shirt after noticing that all-to-familiar odor and I realized that I had been branded. I immediately took off the shirt and doused it with Spray N Wash when I realized that my wonderful son would also need similar attending to. His clothes had to be removed and I then proceeded to change what had to be one of the worst diapers of my life...I used the better part of a dozen wipes. I told him that it was now officially unacceptable to use diapers and that from now on he would have to use the potty like Antonio. Unfortunately I have a sneaky suspicion that he didn't fully understand the severity of the matter.

Being the eternal pragmatist I insisted that he eat breakfast in just his diaper not wanting him to soil a clean outfit just for the sake of 10 minutes at the table. He offered no objections and ate his breakfast without issue. Interestingly with no shirt on he became concerned with his personal cleanliness, a feat not easily achieved by my son. It wasn't until I returned to the kitchen after donning a new shirt that he began his mischievous laughter after which he proclaimed that he would now "poop on that shirt." Clearly the importance of being potty trained that I had stressed not 10 minutes earlier totally eluded him. If you're scoring at home that's: Angelo 2: Daddy 0.

That was the last straw. I bid adieu to my children leaving them in the ultra-capable hands of my wife and sequestered myself in my office for the remainder of the morning.

Potty training will commence shortly! I am running out of excuses!

Antonio at the Golf Course

This took place a while back, but I was reminded of it a few days ago and it is definitely blog worthy especially if you know Antonio.

Stage: Before Giancarlo was born I took Antonio to the driving range while Angelo was sleeping so that Misty could have a little alone time. What ensued was one of those experiences where you feel like pulling your hair out before you understand it from a 4 year old's point of view.

I had an old putter and seven iron both cut down to Antonio's size so that he would have real clubs to play with. He chose the grips from Golf Galaxy and they installed it before his very eyes. We then took the clubs to our local golf course and began on the putting green. I attempted to teach him the proper mechanics of putting. Talk about a waste of time! He didn't listen to a thing I said except "Make the ball go into the hole." He got that part...everything else was lost. His mindset and putting stroke both closely resemble Happy Gilmore. After about 5 minutes I finally gave up and left him to his own devices. Enter Antonio "Wayne Gretzky" Gallizzi the horse-riding legionnaire. He would gallop around the putting green stopping only to "sword-fight with the bad guys" and then occasionally try to hit a slap shot into the hole. More often than not the "putt" would go clear across the green and roll down the bank to the cart path that runs behind the green. Luckily we were the only people on the green so I didn't have to worry about him shooting balls at other golfers.

After the putting green we decided to go to the driving range and I reminded Antonio to pick up his putter and 7-iron so that he wouldn't lose them. I led the way and when I looked back I only saw him carrying his iron, but the putter was nowhere in sight. I asked him where his putter was and using his thumb he pointed behind him back towards the putting green. I got very frustrated and asked him why he left his putter on the green when I just told him to pick it up. He then explained that he didn't leave it there. So I asked him "why did you point back at the green then?" He said "I didn't...it's back here!" he exclaimed as he turned around and I saw the putter tucked into the back of his shirt as if it were a sword. I almost died laughing and I had trouble composing myself on the tee box for the next five minutes or so.

The rest of the day is a bit hazy but I will never forget my son striding towards the driving range with a 7-iron in hand and a putter tucked into his shirt. It is classic Antonio memory that will be etched in my memory forever.

Newborn Smiles: Signs of Affection or Gas Pains?

Over the past week or so as I have held Giancarlo in my arms I have noticed him smiling ever so sweetly as all my boys have done. As my paternal instincts return to me and I caress my newborn I would love to think that he is smiling because he knows me, or has heard my voice for months and it is a comforting sound, but I know way back in the back of my mind that this is just the universal expression of gas pains (and subsequent relief). Surely there can't be much pressure building up inside because his tiny body simply can't hold very much, which I suppose makes gas all the more frequent in newborns. True to form every bit of flatulence is invariably followed by a toothless grin as he revels in the most instinctual form of self-gratification.

The faces he makes during flatulence range from simple smiles to the wide-eyed to the "that was so loud I just scared myself" types. Today as we were attending the Baptism class at St. Ann's Giancarlo's eyes rolled back in his head, smiled widely and then he proceeded to drop a massive load. The expressions are priceless and sometimes I can't help but laugh along with him.

Back to Normal???

So after a two month writing hiatus the muse has finally descended once again so that I might impart some more ridiculousness into our lives (and God knows these days we could all use a little laughter). So as many of you know we welcomed a new family member on Januray 19th, his name is Giancarlo Matteo, or as Antonio likes to call him "The #3 Musketeer." My dad asked me if we were ready to get back to normal, to which I responded "I'm not really sure that we will get back to anything. This is all new for us so we are just flying by the seats of our pants." To a large extent things are more "normal" now that everyone is home safe, but they will definitely never be the same again. After a week with 3 boys under one roof I decided to put together my top 10 list of changes in the making.

Top 10 Observations About Having 3 Boys:

1. We are now officially outnumbered: Last week it was an even match. Now I feel like the guy standing in the middle of the wrestling ring who gets hit with the folding chair by the 3rd team member.
2. We currently have 2 Children in Diapers: I only have 2 hands. Houston we have a problem! Where is the hand sanitizer when you need it?
   
3. Noise level measured in decibels increases exponentially with each child: We started with diesel engine (Antonio only), then to a jackhammer (Antonio + Angelo), and now a low-flying 747. Next up H-Test on the Bikini Atoll.
   
4. There are still only 24 hours in a day: More hours dedicated to laundry, cleaning, feedings = fewer that can be dedicated to sleep. (Also see observations 1-3).
5. Clutter becomes it own element: Earth, Wind, Fire, Water, Clutter. Every child should have to carry his own toys in a backpack. If they can't fit then something has to go.
   
6. Agreement ceases to exist among siblings: Merriam-Webster under disagreement "constant state of affairs in an all-boy household." It doesn't matter if is Backyardagains vs. Diego, or who touched the car first they seem to disagree about everything. Enter Observation #3.
7. WWF = Why We Fight: The two older ones have so much energy that fights eventually breakout and turn into a stomping, punching, slapping, body-slamming, pile-driving good time. At least they don't bite each other (knock on wood).
   
8. Insanity means I love You: If you find yourself wanting to pull your hair out or hit yourself over the head with a cast iron skillet you are not alone. We feel this way to ensure the survival of our species so that we don't take it out on the goslings. Now run along while Daddy puts on his headphones to drown out the noise. (Also see observation #3)
9. Good God how am I going to afford to feed all these kids: They eat like horses. I think it is about time for a separate freezer so that we can stock up on essentials so that we don't run out of food in a mad panic. I think the Country Meat Market sells whole cows and if you buy the whole thing they will toss in some cryogenically packed pork chops, spare ribs and chicken breasts. Where do I sign up?
10. Gibberish: I swear we raised our kids better than this. Antonio (who has an expansive vocabulary) chooses to speak in gibberish 50% of the time. Angelo who won't follow any of Antonio's good habits will then repeat the gibberish. It's like dueling auctioneers trying to sell a mystery car under a tarp (you think it might be a Porsche but its really a 79 Ford Pinto). They don't really want you to know what it is, but boy do they want you to be excited about it.

That's all for now. Enjoy!