Rough Week

6/5/2010

I am here at Olympic Gymnastics where Xander is having a birthday party for one of his school friends. Basically, you rent the whole place for two hours.  When we first started coming here about 3 years ago, we hit upon the idea of having a party here so Xander wouldn’t spend his whole gymnastics class crying. It worked, though now he takes karate lessons instead of gymnastics. They are not the highlight of his week. Life’s tough, kid.

Wendi did not have a good day, yesterday. The morning was spent in Xander’s classroom. He was not as improved as she hoped. Last week, after consulting with his pediatrician, both his school’s OT and Group Health’s OT, his teacher, school counselor, and our own 20+ years’ experience, we decided to go the ADHD medication route. Not something we’re happy with even with our pretty extensive knowledge on the topic. Everybody we talked to said the same thing, “We’re not recommending this per say, but other kids like Xander have had real improvement in school….” (Fill in the rest of the sentence mentally.)

Well, his classroom teacher agreed that the improvement hasn’t been as dramatic as we’d hoped. Wendi consulted with the doctor again and they agreed to double X’s current dose. (It is now a normal dosage for a boy X’s age and weight.) Both W. and I are big supporters of Science-Based Medicine (as opposed to getting medical advice from infomercials or, [shudder] Oprah)  so this shouldn’t be a big deal but it still leaves a bad taste in the mouth.

After the classroom, Wendi went home and took a short nap. She hasn’t been sleeping well, or sometimes at all. Well, her 30-minute cat nap lasted hours instead and she had to rush to Cougar Valley to pick X up at 3:30. So much for any plans. But coming home was when the real trouble started. Here’s some background. We have wild rabbits in the neighborhood; little brown things we sometimes see in our front yard at dawn and dusk. (Granted, we may just being seeing the same rabbit over and over.)

Well, as the two were driving home, just about to our driveway, Wendi pointed out a rabbit by the roadside to Xander. A rabbit just sitting by the edge of the road. Not hopping away like other rabbits would be inclined to do. (Do you see where this is going ‘cause at this point Wendi sure hasn’t, bless her heart!) Well, upon a closer inspection, it wasn’t the Braveheart of Bunnies but one “headed towards the light”. It was still breathing and there wasn’t any visible trauma but the lack of movement and the head tilt meant it was probably a virus that lagomorphs are susceptible to.

At this point, Xander’s panicking in the backseat and Wendi’s no doubt wishing with ALL HER MIGHT that she could take back the previous 2 minutes. Not too long before, our beloved last rabbit Grover had died and Xander was inconsolable for days afterwards. It was an awful experience for all involved.

Seems the rabbit wasn’t all dead but just mostly dead so Wendi put it in the passenger seat and raced home. (And started speed dialing me but I was at the gym, having left my phone in the car.) She had a phone consultation with Xander’s doctor at 4:00 so she had to get home. So, she put Bugs into a box with a nice towel and some carrots and left him out on the deck because her “friend” once told her that “rabbits like to be outside when they are sick. It helps them.”

Note: Every time a lie is told, take a drink!

At this point, the Doctor calls and while the two adults are trying to converse on medical issues, Alexander is shouting at mommy, “Tell the doctor to call somebody who knows about rabbits!!”  At this point, “the doctor” told Wendi that the bunny would be okay as long as it was left alone. With the curtains closed. So it was time for the healing power of TV so Xander got his weekly dose of Scooby-Doo.

(At this point, an oblivious husband and father has finished his workout and leisurely strolls to his car. What’s this? Ah, his phone. Hmmm…Someone has been calling.)

With son safely entranced by 30-year-old cartoons, Wendi went out to the garage, out the door, snuck out to the infirmary and flung the corpse into the bushes just off the deck. A bit later, mother and son decided to check on the patient and were delighted to see that the patient had miraculously recovered. (Do we really need quotation marks anymore?) Xander went back to TV and Wendi continued to phone her useless husband, finally getting through. The gist of the message I got was that only a moron would go without his phone at a time like this and I was to sneak home, find the dearly departed, fling him even farther into the bushes. Way farther. And then come home to hear all about the delightful outcome. Which I hadn’t heard about beforehand.

So that was it. Over the next few days, we kept a sharp look out for our rabbit we even did see a wild rabbit or two over the next few weeks. And that was good enough for Xander. And us.

I guess the moral of the story is that people lie. Parents lie. A lot.

Not sure that’s a moral. Maybe that’s just life.

Waiting for the Tylenol to Kick In

5/1/2010

Had a nice evening with the Ls last night. We brought over some Costco food and Wendi’s award winning casserole * and that seemed to go over well enough.

About 10:00, we left bringing J with us. It was terribly cute. When J decided he wanted to go, he immediately started packing his backpack. Don’t know what all he brought but he seemed happy.

The original plan was that we would leave early rather than “hella-late” but the time got away from us. Right now, the boys are sleeping under a huge pile of blankets under Xander’s bed. It was a close thing last night. Wendi and I were almost taking bets as to which boy would stop talking and fall asleep first. They just went on and on and on…

Speaking of the gift of gab, while the boys were playing downstairs, Xander landed hard on the little rocking horse and shouted out, “Ow! I hurt my nuts!!” Wendi attempted to discipline him about poor language while keeping a straight face but Ginger didn’t even try and just turned quickly towards the wall.

Where does he pick this stuff up?!?

I was also very amused to hear X correct J’s grammar on the way home. “…Mouses.” “No, ‘mice’.”

I’ll bring the little dude back home about the same time the boy goes to swimming lessons: about 10:00. With how late they were up, they will probably be fine sleeping in till then. Everything is too exciting.

Another topic. Wendi promised that today will be my birthday day. Well, it’s technically Saturday (has been for about 3 minutes) and I don’t see any dancing girls so what the hell???

I should probably go back to sleep. Wish me luck.

B.

*Note: Not actually award winning.

A Father’s Curse

11/19/2008

The time: 1972 or 73

The Place: 101st North, Seattle, WA

One Larry Hardy, young father with 4 fine young sons, is engaged in a bit of home improvement owing to a bit of toilet trouble. After much work with various tools and much colorful language, he manages to extract one Granny Smith apple, with one tiny bite taken out of it. Though this was years before “CSI” introduced America to the exciting world of criminal forensics, Larry decides only a 4 or 5 year old would: A) have such small teeth, B) be dumb enough to try to flush an apple. Young Brian feels the consequences both immediate (a swat to the rear) and long term. Though he’s too busy crying to realize this, he has also been saddled with that most awful of burdens: The Father’s Curse!

Fast forward roughly 35 years.

Brian and Wendi are downstairs watching the delightful movie “Stardust”. Xander is upstairs having been tucked in though he can get up to go pee if necessary. Just pee.

“Dad!....Dad!”

“What?”

“I lost my toothbush!”

“How did that happen?”

“It got flushed!”

(Sigh) “I’ll be right up.”

The next day, I take a trip to Home Depot, then to Shucks (to get the type of flexible grabber the Home Depot Guy recommended), onto Sears (as Shucks was all out of grabbers), then back home to try it. Failing my goal but managing to loosen a good amount of toilet paper  and other even less desirable floaties, back to Home Depot to get a plastic drum auger and a pair of gloves (Holy #$#@! Toilet water’s really cold when it’s 36 degrees outside!) and much, much auguring (is that a word?) while Xander watches and comments on my progress. (Or lack thereof.)

At the point of giving up and admitting defeat, I’m reeling in my line. (Xander made several high-larious fishing jokes during this time) when what do I see but a $3.00 blue and pink SpongeBob Squarepants toothbush. Victory.  

Flex Grab-$7

Auger-$25

SB-SP Toothbrush $3

All the money and time invested pales in comparison to the JOY I will feel, sometime in the 2030s or 2040s, when I hear a story from my son about having spent a $#@*&! day up to his elbows in Arctic poo-water because his Bone-Head of a Child decided to try to destroy the evidence of some crime by giving it a burial at sea.

Let it be noted: On March 29th, 2008, I invoke The Father’s Curse!

I have spoken.

Best Laid Plans

7/4/2008

Yesterday, June 29th, 2008, for the first time, Alexander Hardy went to a movie: Pixar’s Wall-E. I figure it was a sure bet. Pixar? Rated G movie? Air conditioned theater? Who wouldn’t be fascinated by the adventures of a plucky little robot trapped in a dystopian Earth, 700 years into the future?

(Just for the curious, Wendi’s first movie going experience was with Bambi and mine was Blazing Saddles. One of us clearly married up but I still don’t know who.)

So, it was a packed house, with LOTS of kids. Seems I wasn’t the only one with a brilliant idea yesterday.

T-Minus 9 Minutes to Show Time

Daddy, is this the movie?

No son. These are commercials for Nickeldeon.

T-Minus 6 Minutes to Show Time

Is it over? Can we go home?

No dear, now the commercials are over.

T-Minus 2 Minutes to Show Time.

Was that it? Is it over?

No, that was the short movie they show before the main attraction.

Start of Movie +3 Minutes

What’s the robot doing? Where are the people? What’s that bug?

Shhhhh. I don’t know. Watch the movie.

Start of Movie +11 Minutes

It’s loud. Can we go? What is that robot doing?

I. Don’t. Know. Shhhhh!

Start of Movie +24 Minutes

I’m scared. What’s that guy doing? Can I have popcorn?

Shhh! He’s the space ship captain. Yes, you can. Later.

The next 60-some minutes saw our little boy cringing in fear, asking to leave, asking for lots of popcorn, asking numerous questions about the movie and finally, crying. These same 60 minutes saw my darling wife suggest we leave and glaring at me.

(I found out on the way home that her absolutely least favorite movies are those with dystopian Earths. What were the odds?!?)

Well, I enjoyed the move, if not the ride home. It took lots of ice cream to sooth everyone’s nerves.

Another childhood experience turned traumatic. First, there was the bird feeding house at Woodland Park Zoo. Then the Butterfly House, again at WP Zoo.

At least hiring all those clowns for his 5th birthday party next month is sure to be hit!

Sigh,

B.

But son, you are not alone,

In proving foresight may be vain;

The best laid plans of mice and dads,

Go often askew,

And leave us nothing but grief and pain,

For promised joy.

We Took Xander to the Democratic Caucus Last Weekend

2/11/2008

He’s been quite the traveler of late. Especially late at night. Over the past few evenings, after being tucked in, Xander has “feeled” (his word) my contacts, dropped my contacts, “cleaned” my contacts and has now gorged himself on water and rubbed my Axe Deodorant Stick all over himself. Now he’s very bloated and the whole upstairs is “Smelling Like a Hunk of Man Candy”. Okay, maybe I shouldn’t wear the stuff either. At my age, Tums are more my candy of choice.

Somehow, this will all be my fault.

Seriously, we need to put a bell on this kid. Or maybe just tie him to his bed.

Brian “Old Man Candy” Hardy

Little Ranch Hand

5/7/2006

Well, this weekend went well. Xander and I got to the Ranch early Friday evening. Our first boys’ only trip. Xander very much enjoyed feeding the cows, saying hello to the cows and saying goodbye to the cows. Harold may have a future reliable ranch hand one day. Certainly more enthusiastic than his lay-about son-in-law.

Despite the somewhat non-toddler proof status of the Ranch House, we left this morning with Xander sporting nothing worse than a scratch on one finger. And of course, life being life, within 20 minutes of getting home sweet home, he managed to cut his ear open on a kitchen counter corner. We trundled down to urgent care (for about the bizzionth time this spring) to see if he needed stitches. While waiting in the urgent care lobby, Xander fell out of the chair and gave himself a black eye.

I swear, we’re THIS CLOSE to making him wear a “special child” helmet 24/7.

Well, the doc was able to glue the cut closed. At least Xander’s getting used to urgent care. He gave the doctor a hug. (Who said it was his first patient hug since leaving Georgia. Come on, Washingtonians! Where’s the love?!?)

Provided we survive tonight’s bath, we’ll keep in touch.

Brian

Xander’s Coming Out!

4/9/2006

Of his sleep sac, that is. Lately, Alexander has been showing a delightful habit of taking everything off BUT his sleep sac. He’s quite the little Houdini. Thursday night, I went up to check on him and there he was: asleep on his bed. Sitting right next to him was his diaper. Almost like it had been teleported off of him.

So, it seemed time to try something else. Friday night was his first go at going “au natural” and it was a success. Nothing but jammies. Wendi and I went up to check on him, oh, about every 15 minutes and also to remind him about the Ultimate Doom awaiting him if he even thought about removing any clothes. (That is, we’d close the door for about 5 seconds.)

Two nights in a row and he’s doing fine. Granted, I think he’d be happier if he stopped taking off his socks but cold toes must be his price for wisdom.

Xander continues to ask for Busy, Busy Town, despite the fact that he destroyed it last week. I always make a big show of bringing out the corpse and explaining how sad it makes me.  L

On the brighter side, we’ve been reading another Richard Scary book: “The Best First Book Ever” which is very similar to “Town”. Maybe he’s getting them mixed up. But he enjoys the book and last night as I was putting the laundry away, he sang the ABC song all the way through. (Alright, he forgot the “t” but that’s a minor letter anyway.) Knowing the ABCs AND keeping his clothes on?!? The boy’s obviously gifted. Now if we could just work up the nerve to start potty training.

That is all for now. See ya!

Brian

A Lazy Sunday

1/8/2006

   Well, Wendi’s in the living room playing Nintendo, Xander’s upstairs absolutely not taking his afternoon nap. In fact, he seems to be jumping off his bed which is very loud in the office below which is where I am. Ah….domestic bliss.

Speaking of the little imp, he’s into the “running into Daddy at top speed” phase of his life. Okay, he has been in this phase for quite some time but he’s bigger and faster now. (He needs to slow down or I need to start wearing a cup if he has any hope of siblings.) He further likes to finish his sprint with a sleeper hold around my neck and an enthusiastic “Ug! Ug! Eeeze!” shouted into my ear. At least he’s polite.

He also loves EVERY ONE of his 5 new stuffed toys and likes to keep them all with him at all times. The sight of him trying to stagger down the stairs, his arms full is very funny. And then I dash up to try to keep him from falling.

The included pic was taken at Jeff and Maria’s place on Christmas Eve. Xander loved their house, what with the dogs, cats and doors that open and close. (And open and close….) Dad’s hand-made gifts were all lovingly made and look not terribly 3-year old proof. So Xander only gets to play with them under closely supervised conditions. “Yes son, you may look at the toys behind the plexiglass but that’s it.”

Well, I think I should go bug Wendi to ensure she doesn’t fritter away her weekend by relaxing. Wish me luck.

B.

The Most Awfulest Time of The Year

12/28/2005

Okay, so maybe “awefullest” isn’t a word but you get the idea. We just got back from Winthrop a few hours ago. The previous 5 days in Winthrop were not fun. Why, you ask? The number one reason was a stomach flu which first hit Xander at 4:00 AM on Thursday. Either fortunately or unfortunately (your call) his sleep area was only a few feet away from our bed in Wendi’s room so we were right there when it happened. You’ve never seen a kid look so startled to vomit.

We got him cleaned up as best we could but then the explosive diarrhea started. One moment-calm baby. The next moment-POOF! Insta-crap everywhere. His lil’ Pampers Cruisers just couldn’t hold it all so Xander got the great pleasure of taking lots of baths.

Starting Thursday night, we all started falling like dominos at about 12 hour intervals. First me. Then Wendi. Then Holly’s oldest stepson Zac (17), then Harold (too old to count). And finally Hunter (5). The final two hadn’t completely recovered by the time we left this morning.

Tina, Keaton and Holly and Bill all remained germ-free. That latter two claimed their many screwdrivers consumed throughout the day would protect them and apparently, it worked.

Despite all arguments for a Just and Loving Supreme Being, Java the dog remained perfectly healthy.

The only good thing about this Noel Plague is that for everyone under 80, the sickness lasted under 24 hours but oh, what a memorable 24 hours. I can say without exaggeration that from noon to midnight on the 23rd was the worst 12 hours of my life. I couldn’t even walk from the bed to the toilet without having to take a little lie-down halfway between.

Wendi’s experience with concurrent explosive diarrhea and projectile vomiting was simply too graphic to discuss in polite company. Let’s just say there was a lot of nasty, nasty laundry to do and anyone besides Tina would have said, “Eeeeew! You take care of it, losers!”

Okay, another bright side to this dark cloud is that we are certainly going to be below the 8 pound weight gain for the average American over the holiday season. Adkins and Southbeach got nothing on spending a day trying to decide which end to point at the toilet bowl.

The official mascot for Christmas 04 is the bucket that several of us took to carrying “just in case”. I took some nice pictures with the idea that maybe it would make a nice Christmas Card photo 12 months hence.

So anyway, the Wife, Son and I are glad to be home. Talking with Tina this evening, Harold is up and about and Konnosan had come by soon after we left with latex gloves and gallons of Lysol. She then spent most of the day disinfecting every portion of the Ranch House she could reach.

Well, hope the rest of your holidays go well. Take care and wash your hands. A lot.

Brian (of Brian, Wendi and Xander fame)

Still Working on His Bed Technique

10/17/2005

(#34 in an apparently never-ending series.)

I didn’t know one could sleep on one’s head but if you’re tired enough, anything is possible.

(Note to CPS: We put him back in bed after taking a few dozen pictures.)