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!

Spirit of Thanksgiving

In the spirit of the season (and responding to a need at the church) we took the kids out shopping for Thanksgiving foodstuffs to support those less fortunate than ourselves. The thought behind this was that we can take the kids to the store, buy the food and then drop it off all while teaching them about Thanksgiving and why it is so important to celebrate it. Suffice to say that the trip didn't go exactly as planned but more on that in a moment.

Thanksgiving is the quintessential American holiday. It celebrates our oneness as Americans. National holidays often celebrate a certain segment of society, July 4th (although a great day to get together and BBQ) somehow lacks the feeling of togetherness embodied by "The Holidays", New Years is celebrated by almost every society on Earth, and Christmas/Easter/ Hanukkah/Yom Kippur/Rosh Hashana/Ramadan et al. are religious holidays. Thanksgiving is a time for all Americans (white, black, brown, Christian, Jew Muslim) to remember what makes this country great and what sets us apart from the rest of the world; namely our generosity, hospitality, abundance and freedoms of all types. We celebrate what it is that makes the USA the most sought after residence and the envy of the world.

So it is in that spirit that we hopped in the car and made our way down to the local Wal-Mart (which thankfully had endcap displays for all that we needed). In the car on the way we explained that we weren't shopping for ourselves but rather for those who have less than we do. Antonio noted that we should get him some toys since we were going to Wal-Mart. Specifically he wanted 5 guns and 2 swords (I honestly have no idea where he gets this stuff). We calmly explained to him that he could ask Santa Claus for those things (which we totally have no intentions of getting for him) and that tonight would not be time for that. He was adamant that we would buy him toys so Misty and I decided to drop it.

As we arrived at Wal-Mart both boys are instructed to sit in the shopping cart as we planned to make this trip as quickly as possible. Nothing is worse than children running in opposite directions at any store let alone one as big as Wal-Mart. 20 seconds through the front door we arrive at the yam endcap and no sooner did we arrive then the two boys begin fighting with one another. Again we calmly explained why we were shopping and that they should be gracious givers. That went over their little heads faster than talk of Keynesian Economic Theory. I got the deer in headlights stare for about 5 seconds and then they went back to bickering. We saw that this was quickly snowballing into a full-blown tantrum so we hurriedly shoveled cans of yams into the cart along with all other foodstuffs and proceeded to the check out lane.

Enter a new highlight of the evening: the impulse section next to the cash register. The kids start the mad grab for anything within reach suddenly the cart begins to fill up with candy bars and beef jerky. Daddy has had it at this point, and although the Almond Joy was calling my name I decided to eschew the candy bar in favor of expediting our checkout. Children screaming and arguing, on the verge of yam can throwing we finally exit Wal-Mart lucky to escape with our sanity. We then proceed to the church to drop off the goods. Now ensues the argument about who carries what bag. Feeling like total parental failures we drop off the food, dejectedly return to the car and drive home. My only solace is that gin martinis cure all ills at the end of a long day.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Sleeping Habits

I vividly remember sleeping in front of a floor fan when I was a kid. I used to sneak out of bed in the middle of the night and take my blanket and pillow to the living room where we had a box-style floor fan and I would proceed to sleep in front of it. My parents hated it, but I still to this day need to feel like an Eskimo while I sleep. Enter mini-me a.k.a. Antonio, a.k.a. Mother's curse; you know the one that goes something like "I hope you have a child just like yourself." I now have a vague concept of what it was like to raise me in my early years.

I can't get Antonio to spend an entire night in his bed. In the last week alone we have found him asleep on the couch upstairs, at the top of the stairs behind the gate, asleep on the couch in the downstairs living room, under our bed and asleep in the corner of our room. I don't think he is sleepwalking, I think he just gets bored. Under the guise of "being scared" he whines at the top of the stairs until someone either tells him to go back to bed or he consoles himself and falls asleep in random places.

Angelo on the other hand normally goes to sleep in his toddler bed, but sometimes wakes up and nestles behind his door. Unfortunately this makes opening his door to check on him near impossible since he wedges himself between the door and the wall. We put a child lock on the inside of Angelo's room for his own safety and our sanity. We really aren't ready for him to be running around upstairs with his brother because they might never go to sleep. Unfortunately Antonio sometimes kicks the sleeping tiger by opening the door early in the morning before we are ready to wake up. Those are usually the mornings that test our parental mettle.

We kicked around the idea of bunk beds...they are so not ready for that. They are already doing the flying elbow from the top turnbuckle. Angelo got sniped making the leap from the fireplace to the couch a few days ago even after Mommy told him not to. Clearly if they are jumping around like monkeys they are not ready for bunk beds. Luckily Mommy ceded her office to the new baby so we don't yet have to worry about consolidating children into the same room just yet. In the future it will be a foregone conclusion, but for now we are satisfied with the room assignments. It could always be worse.