Thursday, August 30, 2007
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Storm of the century...
OK, storm of the century couldn't be farther from the truth, but by central Ohio newscasts standards you'd think Katrina's older, drug-addled, heroin addict brother was blowing into town.
So after all was said and done, last Saturday went off without a hitch - even though the National Weather Service confirmed that a tornado touched down about two miles away from our house!!! Although I couldn't see any damage where they said it hit, I can honestly say that I'd rather have no tornado than a no damage tornado.
Here's some video for the West Coast readers who (probably) haven't ever heard a tornado siren. They're very eerie, unless it's a Wednesday at noon...then they're just testing them.
As you can see by the video below, the Zen couldn't care less about the situation. Part of me thinks it's because he's a baby and didn't have a clue what was going on, the other part of me thinks it's because he's a brave badass superhero that used his secret powers of telekinesis to disarm Mother Nature, dissolving the tornado from far away using only brain waves and giggles, consequently saving an entire community from ruin; all while its people are none the wiser.
Then, 18 years later, we, as parents, have no idea that our son can materialize and move objects until he secretly reveals to us that we shan't worry anymore because all of our problems are over and we should just keep the full amount saved in his 529 account "for fun or maybe a vacation," because he's already materialized a big stack of money that will cover the full amount of his tuition to the John Hopkins School of Medicine, where he'll later study Oncology and develop cures for diabetes, cancer, AIDS, and halitosis.
I need to stop watching Heroes.
Still, a big stack of money would be a nice Father's Day present. Doesn't have to be '08, either...'09 would work. You reading this, Zen?
So after all was said and done, last Saturday went off without a hitch - even though the National Weather Service confirmed that a tornado touched down about two miles away from our house!!! Although I couldn't see any damage where they said it hit, I can honestly say that I'd rather have no tornado than a no damage tornado.
Here's some video for the West Coast readers who (probably) haven't ever heard a tornado siren. They're very eerie, unless it's a Wednesday at noon...then they're just testing them.
As you can see by the video below, the Zen couldn't care less about the situation. Part of me thinks it's because he's a baby and didn't have a clue what was going on, the other part of me thinks it's because he's a brave badass superhero that used his secret powers of telekinesis to disarm Mother Nature, dissolving the tornado from far away using only brain waves and giggles, consequently saving an entire community from ruin; all while its people are none the wiser.
Then, 18 years later, we, as parents, have no idea that our son can materialize and move objects until he secretly reveals to us that we shan't worry anymore because all of our problems are over and we should just keep the full amount saved in his 529 account "for fun or maybe a vacation," because he's already materialized a big stack of money that will cover the full amount of his tuition to the John Hopkins School of Medicine, where he'll later study Oncology and develop cures for diabetes, cancer, AIDS, and halitosis.
I need to stop watching Heroes.
Still, a big stack of money would be a nice Father's Day present. Doesn't have to be '08, either...'09 would work. You reading this, Zen?
Saturday, August 25, 2007
Adventures in baby bowling...
After spending 45 minutes in the basement due to two funnel clouds being spotted 3 miles away from our home, this video was an excellent stress reliever.
It's nice to know that we're much better parents then I ever considered.
It's nice to know that we're much better parents then I ever considered.
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
Tenzin LOVES books...REALLY LOVES books.
In the past three weeks, our son has been REALLY moving. Turn your head for 2 seconds and there are many dangerous things that could happen. He could:
Spill beer (a.k.a. Daddy Juice) on the carpet.
Bite mom's neck Bram Stroker style.
Lunge for steak knife.
Pull plant over on head.
Reshingle the roof.
Teethe on the corner of coffee table.
Visit Phoenix without calling Aunt Brandi.
Boil water in a tea kettle.
Eat a garbage bag.
Play hot lava on the tablesaw in the basement.
Order 13 Jock Jam CD's via infomercial.
Change the differential fluid in truck...without blocking the tire!
Swim laps in the washing machine.
Live in Detroit.
Drink carpetbeer through a straw.
Shave with a straight razor.
Vote Republican.
Play with attic insulation.
Record and rebroadcst a MLB game without expressed written consent.
Buy fish on a Monday.
Drive with Mommy.
Stand next to Dad when he comments about Mommy's driving.
The list goes on...
Don't believe me?
Proof: This is a prime example of one of the many dangerous incidents we've caught on camera. Please note that the camera shoots at 5 frames per second.
[Why is there a high-speed, time lapse camera in our living room? Well, the story is complicated, but basically we like to repeat every experiment we see on Mythbuster's in order to guarantee it's plausibility/bustedness - preshow warning be damned...not to mention that Tenzin seems to get a kick out of the gun experiments the most.]
Here it is, our struggle with his new-found mobility...
one second
of one day
August 20th
2007
sans Keifer Sutherland.
Hola Mar never had a chance.
May God rest his bilingual soul.
Spill beer (a.k.a. Daddy Juice) on the carpet.
Bite mom's neck Bram Stroker style.
Lunge for steak knife.
Pull plant over on head.
Reshingle the roof.
Teethe on the corner of coffee table.
Visit Phoenix without calling Aunt Brandi.
Boil water in a tea kettle.
Eat a garbage bag.
Play hot lava on the tablesaw in the basement.
Order 13 Jock Jam CD's via infomercial.
Change the differential fluid in truck...without blocking the tire!
Swim laps in the washing machine.
Live in Detroit.
Drink carpetbeer through a straw.
Shave with a straight razor.
Vote Republican.
Play with attic insulation.
Record and rebroadcst a MLB game without expressed written consent.
Buy fish on a Monday.
Drive with Mommy.
Stand next to Dad when he comments about Mommy's driving.
The list goes on...
Don't believe me?
Proof: This is a prime example of one of the many dangerous incidents we've caught on camera. Please note that the camera shoots at 5 frames per second.
[Why is there a high-speed, time lapse camera in our living room? Well, the story is complicated, but basically we like to repeat every experiment we see on Mythbuster's in order to guarantee it's plausibility/bustedness - preshow warning be damned...not to mention that Tenzin seems to get a kick out of the gun experiments the most.]
Here it is, our struggle with his new-found mobility...
one second
of one day
August 20th
2007
sans Keifer Sutherland.
Hola Mar never had a chance.May God rest his bilingual soul.
Molly & Keith's Wedding
Sorry, but this will need to be a quickie post. I have much better pictures of Molly & Keith's wedding, but most of the formats are portrait and I don't have time to modify them to landscape. Regardless, if you'd like to see more from this couple's happy day (and from Tenzin's first wedding reception, where he was drank under the table...literally), click this link [update: link fixed] to go to the Kodak Gallery.
It's just bad...
It's bad when you wake up at four o'clock in the morning with your son crying next to you, smell the sour stench of a soiled diaper, think that's the reason for his tears, then soon realize that the smell is actually your breath and he - tears and all - just needed his pacifier popped back in...either that or I was breathing my mouth fumes on him.
Time for Dad to start swigging the Listerine.*
*Industrial Grade
Time for Dad to start swigging the Listerine.*
*Industrial Grade
Sunday, August 12, 2007
Superman or Tenzin?
'This baby's name is not 4Real', couple told [New Zealand]
By Paul Willis
A couple has got over the disappointment of having their choice of 4Real as the name for their baby son turned down by calling him Superman instead.
Pat and Sheena Wheaton were told by the government registry in New Zealand they could not register the name because it included a digit.
Mr Wheaton said he came up with the unlikely moniker after seeing the baby for the first time in an ultrasound scan and realising their baby was "for real".
However, the family has refused to let the law or good taste get in the way of their choice, insisting they will continue to refer to their two-month-old son as 4Real.
In the meantime they plan to officially name him Superman.
"No matter what, its going to stay 4Real," Mr Wheaton told the New Zealand Herald newspaper, "I'm certainly not a quitter".
He said criticism of the couple posted on the internet regarding their choice of name had been difficult to handle.
"I did go online and Google some of the stories and as tough as I am, it does get to you, but there's no point getting upset," he said.
"It could be a 10-year-old school girl making those comments."
A spokesman for the Department of Internal Affairs, which operates the registry, told the newspaper discussions with the Wheatons about their son's name were continuing.
By Paul Willis
A couple has got over the disappointment of having their choice of 4Real as the name for their baby son turned down by calling him Superman instead.
Pat and Sheena Wheaton were told by the government registry in New Zealand they could not register the name because it included a digit.
Mr Wheaton said he came up with the unlikely moniker after seeing the baby for the first time in an ultrasound scan and realising their baby was "for real".
However, the family has refused to let the law or good taste get in the way of their choice, insisting they will continue to refer to their two-month-old son as 4Real.
In the meantime they plan to officially name him Superman.
"No matter what, its going to stay 4Real," Mr Wheaton told the New Zealand Herald newspaper, "I'm certainly not a quitter".
He said criticism of the couple posted on the internet regarding their choice of name had been difficult to handle.
"I did go online and Google some of the stories and as tough as I am, it does get to you, but there's no point getting upset," he said.
"It could be a 10-year-old school girl making those comments."
A spokesman for the Department of Internal Affairs, which operates the registry, told the newspaper discussions with the Wheatons about their son's name were continuing.
Parents - 1, Murphy's Law - 0
OK, so we arrived at home anxious to see if Murphy's Law of parental photography was in effect (see previous post).
Rachel and I crashed through the door and popped Tenzin in his swing , an arbitrary attention staller in the world of parenting, as I rushed back inside to prepare the carpet for the Tendy 500. So the question is, would he crawl?
Well, to put it lightly, Robert DeNiro's got nothing on my son. Three takes is all it took to capture history (uncle Steven will be happy to know that, yes, that's his LA Angels ball he's crawling after!).
Enjoy:
Rachel and I crashed through the door and popped Tenzin in his swing , an arbitrary attention staller in the world of parenting, as I rushed back inside to prepare the carpet for the Tendy 500. So the question is, would he crawl?
Well, to put it lightly, Robert DeNiro's got nothing on my son. Three takes is all it took to capture history (uncle Steven will be happy to know that, yes, that's his LA Angels ball he's crawling after!).
Enjoy:
Thursday, August 09, 2007
Rabbits tracks in our bed...
A funny thing happened on the way to awakedness yesterday (for those of you that don’t know how I sleep, this is a VERY involved process involving forklifts and cranes)…
Prologue
So we’re not the best parents in the world when it comes to sleep-in-the-crib time. By the end of the day, Rachel and I are usually so awash in a sea of poopy-drowsiness (both literally and physically) that by the time the showers, baths, feedings, work, dishes and dinner are washed off of our tired souls, there is nothing better than having a little Giggle Fest ™ in bed with the Zen.
GF consists of a good hour or so of insane faces/noises/gestures/zerberts that provoke Tenzin into salacious cackle only heard by dogs and paternal beings. Often times throughout the torture he’ll take an intermittent break to paw or rappel from the mound of surrounding pillows, making an obvious effort to “run for it” over the side (that kid is moving!). Even with our hands tightened securely around his ankles, he seems to think he still has a fighting chance at freedom, unconcerned about the 4 foot fall to the hardwood below. We pull him back up and the process starts all over again.
On a side note, I can already picture it…God help him when tries to jump from an oak tree with an umbrella like his dear old dad. God help him even more when he reattempts the jump an hour later with a garbage bag.
By the time GF winds down we’re 15 times more tired than before, thus eliminating any chance that we’ll ever make it to the nursery with baby in tow (believe it or not, the 15 foot walk is a killer!). Even when we do, in fact, make it to the nursery we still can’t help but bring him back in to the bedroom before the alarm goes off at 6:00 (then 6:15 and 6:30 and 6:45). I seriously think Rachel needs snuggle Methadone to kick her habit. I, however, am just fine and can quit whenever I want to. I’ve got it under control. I swear. But I could use a hit here soon.
Back to the story at hand…
So I’m a very moley guy. OK, “moley” is putting it lightly. Basically my back looks like the bottom of a rabbit’s cage (and yes Mom, I had them all checked out by a dermatologist less than a year ago and they’re all in tiptop “mole shape”). More on this below.
Lately, to keep Tenzin occupied while we prep his evening meal-o-mush, we’ll give him about 5 or 6 puffy Gerber stars strategically placed over the span of his tray (he’ll try to cram them all in his mouth if he picks them all up at once). They’re small, about half an inch at the most, and he loves to pick them up on his own (still left-handed like Uncle Jared (sorry, Sarah…Jared can throw a baseball)).
So yesterday I was a bit surprised when I awoke to something strange. It wasn’t your typical morning because Tenzin didn’t signal dawn by a) striking me in the groin with his heel b) slapping me on the nose c) digging his fingernail into my eye socket d) head butting me in the ear, or e) my personal favorite, biting me on the nose. The hazards of snuggling with a nine month old!
That morning was different because I awoke to my back being rubbed ever so gently, almost as if my son had given up his dreams of mixed martial arts fighting in favor of becoming a weak-handed, small-fingered Masseuse (a slight dichotomy of career choices, I’d think!), but alas those dreams were cut short when I quickly realized my son had mistaken my moles for brown puffy Gerber stars, with their chocolaty goodness just out of reach. Paw as he might, those stars were just not releasing their grip from Dad’s skin.
The event was quite comical and we had some good laughs, but the laughter didn’t last long. As I turned my head to tell Rachel the hilarious ordeal at hand, our son extended his hand to my face, c) impelling his fingernail two knuckles deep into my eye socket.
Good morning, Tenzin.
In other news, Tenzin went to the truck place on Tuesday and bought himself a four-wheel drive conversion kit. He had it installed in no time.
It wasn’t much distance-wise, but it was a record-shattering marathon in Daddyworld. The knees and hands worked independently of one another in harmonious movement, propelling him forward six whole feet to the perimeter of the rug. I think he even surprised himself. He shot us a look, obviously accusing us of moving the rug.
I’ll try to get some video, but you all know the Murphy’s Law of parenting: the cute stays until the flash goes off. So it might just be a ten minute video of us in falsetto shouting, “You can do it. Commmmmme on buddy. Handsies and feetsies. Come get your toys.” Until then, I’ll be busy covering the house in bubble wrap and rubber.
Oh, and we've got a new word for poop in the diapers. It's offically known as a Stinkie Twinkie.™
Too funny.
Prologue
So we’re not the best parents in the world when it comes to sleep-in-the-crib time. By the end of the day, Rachel and I are usually so awash in a sea of poopy-drowsiness (both literally and physically) that by the time the showers, baths, feedings, work, dishes and dinner are washed off of our tired souls, there is nothing better than having a little Giggle Fest ™ in bed with the Zen.
GF consists of a good hour or so of insane faces/noises/gestures/zerberts that provoke Tenzin into salacious cackle only heard by dogs and paternal beings. Often times throughout the torture he’ll take an intermittent break to paw or rappel from the mound of surrounding pillows, making an obvious effort to “run for it” over the side (that kid is moving!). Even with our hands tightened securely around his ankles, he seems to think he still has a fighting chance at freedom, unconcerned about the 4 foot fall to the hardwood below. We pull him back up and the process starts all over again.
On a side note, I can already picture it…God help him when tries to jump from an oak tree with an umbrella like his dear old dad. God help him even more when he reattempts the jump an hour later with a garbage bag.
By the time GF winds down we’re 15 times more tired than before, thus eliminating any chance that we’ll ever make it to the nursery with baby in tow (believe it or not, the 15 foot walk is a killer!). Even when we do, in fact, make it to the nursery we still can’t help but bring him back in to the bedroom before the alarm goes off at 6:00 (then 6:15 and 6:30 and 6:45). I seriously think Rachel needs snuggle Methadone to kick her habit. I, however, am just fine and can quit whenever I want to. I’ve got it under control. I swear. But I could use a hit here soon.
Back to the story at hand…
So I’m a very moley guy. OK, “moley” is putting it lightly. Basically my back looks like the bottom of a rabbit’s cage (and yes Mom, I had them all checked out by a dermatologist less than a year ago and they’re all in tiptop “mole shape”). More on this below.
Lately, to keep Tenzin occupied while we prep his evening meal-o-mush, we’ll give him about 5 or 6 puffy Gerber stars strategically placed over the span of his tray (he’ll try to cram them all in his mouth if he picks them all up at once). They’re small, about half an inch at the most, and he loves to pick them up on his own (still left-handed like Uncle Jared (sorry, Sarah…Jared can throw a baseball)).
So yesterday I was a bit surprised when I awoke to something strange. It wasn’t your typical morning because Tenzin didn’t signal dawn by a) striking me in the groin with his heel b) slapping me on the nose c) digging his fingernail into my eye socket d) head butting me in the ear, or e) my personal favorite, biting me on the nose. The hazards of snuggling with a nine month old!
That morning was different because I awoke to my back being rubbed ever so gently, almost as if my son had given up his dreams of mixed martial arts fighting in favor of becoming a weak-handed, small-fingered Masseuse (a slight dichotomy of career choices, I’d think!), but alas those dreams were cut short when I quickly realized my son had mistaken my moles for brown puffy Gerber stars, with their chocolaty goodness just out of reach. Paw as he might, those stars were just not releasing their grip from Dad’s skin.
The event was quite comical and we had some good laughs, but the laughter didn’t last long. As I turned my head to tell Rachel the hilarious ordeal at hand, our son extended his hand to my face, c) impelling his fingernail two knuckles deep into my eye socket.
Good morning, Tenzin.
In other news, Tenzin went to the truck place on Tuesday and bought himself a four-wheel drive conversion kit. He had it installed in no time.
It wasn’t much distance-wise, but it was a record-shattering marathon in Daddyworld. The knees and hands worked independently of one another in harmonious movement, propelling him forward six whole feet to the perimeter of the rug. I think he even surprised himself. He shot us a look, obviously accusing us of moving the rug.
I’ll try to get some video, but you all know the Murphy’s Law of parenting: the cute stays until the flash goes off. So it might just be a ten minute video of us in falsetto shouting, “You can do it. Commmmmme on buddy. Handsies and feetsies. Come get your toys.” Until then, I’ll be busy covering the house in bubble wrap and rubber.
Oh, and we've got a new word for poop in the diapers. It's offically known as a Stinkie Twinkie.™
Too funny.
Saturday, August 04, 2007
My newest obsession...
Zena Halloway is amazing. Simple as that.I have been obsessed with her work for quite some time now, but seeing as Tenzin is officially "dunking" at our pool (much to his mother's chagrin), I SO WANT to capture some shots like these. Check out her work Little Urchin series HERE.
And it's not just baby work, either. Zena produces some of the most beautiful underwater shots I've ever seen. The proof is in the pudding:
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