The Papa Bear Memoirs - A Dad, Parenting Blog

Learning From Mistakes

2009-10-27T18:48:00.000-07:00

As many of you know, I am a huge baseball fan, more specifically a huge Mets fan. During the season, since I live outside of Philadelphia, I order the baseball package offered by DirecTV and watch just about every Mets game. In recent years it's become somewhat of a father-son bonding experience. Junior Bear has even become a Mets fan like me. I haven't forced this on him (swear it), I think he just likes what I like right now.

In addition to the Mets games, I like watching just about any baseball game that's on and Junior Bear will watch along with me. One of the channels offered with the baseball package is a "mix channel" that shows eight games on one screen. Junior Bear especially likes this channel and will stand at the TV and ask me who he should root for in each game.

This mindset of his has carried over into the baseball playoffs. He feels a need to root for one team over another even though I keep telling him it doesn't matter who we root for because the Mets aren't playing (something I am used to saying this time of year).

Well, being Mets fans in Philadelphia we have a special dislike for the Phillies. And being a Mets fan anywhere, I also hate the Yankees. Actually, I don't really hate the Phillies, it's more the fans I don't like. But when it comes to the Yankees I hate everything about them, fans, players, everything!

So, you can see how this upcoming World Series is going to be one of the toughest... no, THE toughest World Series I have ever endured. I have pondered the question since the Phillies beat the Dodgers in the NLCS who I would pull for, the Phillies or the Yankees.

I have played out every argument (I won't waste your time with all the particulars) and I keep coming to the same conclusion -- nobody. I don't want anyone to win. I actually want... never mind I won't say that, but point is I want both teams to endure a painful loss. A very painful loss. Problem is, there can be only one loser and I am sick over that.

As a result, I am trying to ignore everything about this series. Usually a faithful sports radio listener, I have resorted to listening to elevator music to just ease my emotions. I try to keep a positive attitude at home. I mean, Mama Bear, Peanut Bear and Cookie Bear are Phillies fans and I don't want ruin it for them, but it's very hard.

It got even harder last night when Junior Bear asked me, "Dad, we like the Mets so we have to root for the New York team. Will you root for the Yankees with me?"

I wanted to tell my son I supported him and his decision, but I had trouble. You want to say, "Sure son, I'll root for the Yankees." But I didn't. I didn't say no, but I didn't say yes either. I said, "You can root for whoever you want."

Don't get me wrong, I'm happy he doesn't want to root for the Phillies, but I can't accept the rooting for the Yankees. How could any self-respecting Mets fan root for the Evil Empire? Well, I can't do it. I won't do it!

I imagine this is the just the first of many decisions Junior Bear will make that I won't agree with. Part of your job as a parent is to let your children live their lives and make their own mistakes so they learn from experience. Let it be known right now, that this is the first mistake I am letting Junior Bear learn from. Trust me, I'm not happy about letting him do this, but at the age of six, it's better he learns now rather than later. I just hope this doesn't scar him for the rest of his life.

Reminder: The Kids Have School

2009-10-14T18:51:00.000-07:00

Well, Uncle Bear (my brother) got married last Friday and my entire family was included in the wedding. So, I thought there would be something to take from that for the blog this week.

As it turns out, nothing noteworthy happened at the wedding. However, the following Monday was very interesting.

It turns out the Monday afterwards was Columbus Day. Mama Bear had off from school (she teaches at a charter school in Philadelphia), so we let the kids sleep in as Cookie Bear was off from pre-school as well.

So, I was on my way out the door to get to work early so I could leave early. As I brought the yard waste to the curb on my way to the car, I noticed a bus drive by.

As it approached I thought that it was one of the Catholic School buses. I looked at the students through the windows as the bus drove by and I said to myself, "Boy that girl looks familiar."

Once the bus went by, I saw the number on the back of the bus: 10.

"Huh. That's Peanut and Junior Bear's bus," I said to myself.

Then, one of the neighbears, whose kid is on the same bus, drove by, stopped and asked, "Are you okay?"

"The kids have school today?" I questioned.

"It's not like when we were kids," she answered "They go to school on Columbus Day. The kids okay?"

"Yeah. Perfect," I said. "They are upstairs asleep. I guess we better get them up."

Anyway, fast forward about 45 minutes. As I checked the kids into school late, the nice lady at the desk asked, "What's the reason for them being late?"

"Truthfully," I answered, "I didn't think they had school today until I saw the bus ride by."

She laughed.

By the way, should I be worried that the lady knew my kids so well that as soon as we walked in the office she said hi to them by name? The school is pretty big and I wonder why she knows them so well.

When the Naughty Step Isn’t So Bad

2009-09-29T19:53:00.000-07:00

As many of you know, I go to work in the mornings after dropping Cookie Bear off at pre-school for 9 am. This means I work later as I usually don’t get to work until 9:30-9:45. As a result, I miss dinner most nights since I don’t get home until 6-6:30.

Well, last week I had to come home early from work to relieve the sitter because Mama Bear had her “Back to School Night.” Therefore, I had to get dinner ready for the three kids.

Peanut Bear and Junior Bear, both in first grade, are good little eaters. As long as they don’t have a snack too close to meal time, they’ll eat everything in sight. Cookie Bear, well she’s a different story. See, she didn’t get her nickname because she liked vegetables.

Anyway, that night I made chicken cutlets with a side of broccoli (okay, you got me, I didn’t actually make the chicken cutlets, but I did warm them up). At first the twins moaned, but ate. Cookie Bear, well, it wasn’t that easy. Once she saw the food, she immediately started crying, saying, no yelling, “I don’t like chicken! I don’t like this (the broccoli)!”

The outburst and defiance continued for a few more minutes and when it became clear none of us were going to eat in peace, I sent her to the naughty step. A few minutes later I went to get her and explained that she had to finish everything on her plate if she wanted to join us in playing the game Trouble after dinner.

Trouble… huh…I should have seen this coming.

Anyway, as soon as she sat down, she said she was going to eat the chicken, but not the “green stuff.”

Peanut Bear tried to show her that it wasn’t that bad, even saying, “Look, I don’t like it either, but broccoli will help you grow big and strong.”

Amazing how Peanut Bear is like a little mom.

Well, Peanut and Junior Bear finished their food and went downstairs to play. I stayed with Cookie and true to her word she finished her chicken and left the broccoli. She sat there just starring at it. I reminded her she wasn’t going to be able to play Trouble if she didn’t finish it and I started to clean up.

It was at this point something incredible happened. Something I never thought in my wildest dreams would ever occur.

As I was at the sink, Cookie Bear got out of her seat and went straight to the naughty step. When I turned around and didn’t she her and then found her at the naughty step, my heart broke for just a moment.

Here was a four-year-old girl who was willing to not only give up her chance to play a game with her brother, sister and dad, but would rather sit at the naughty step voluntarily than eat her broccoli.

Unbelievable! If the Green Giant could see this now his “Yo-ho-ho” would be more like “Oh-no-no.” On the other hand, the Keebler Elves sure would’ve been proud, that’s for sure.

Think about that. Cookie Bear would rather sit by herself at the naughty step, a punishment, than eat broccoli.

Once again, I didn’t anticipate that response and was left at a loss. Why is nothing easy? Just eat the broccoli!

I told her she didn’t have to sit at the naughty step, because she didn’t do anything wrong, but she stayed there until her sister came upstairs with the game Trouble. Cookie then got off the step, but I had to stay true to my word and she wasn’t able to play.

I left the broccoli out on the table in front of her in case she changed her mind. But the strong willed little girl also stayed true to her word and 45 minutes later (let me tell you Trouble is NOT a quick game) the broccoli was still there. And she was fine with not playing the game.

I did let her have a bowl of cereal before bed because I didn’t want her to go to bed hungry, but that was it. I don’t know if that was right or wrong to do, but I have to give that little girl props. She stuck to her guns.

A week later I still can’t believe it. She would rather go to the naughty step and watch us have fun instead of eating broccoli!

Not Everyone's been a Papa Bear Fan

2009-09-22T20:09:00.000-07:00

I was dropping Cookie Bear off at pre-school today and our neighbor was dropping off her youngest child when we got to talking and I was reminded of my early days as a Daytime Daddy. She was saying that her son is enjoying the beginning of his first year in pre-school and I got to thinking about how my first year of pre-school went.

Well, it wasn’t actually my first-year in pre-school (I don’t remember that), it was my first year at pre-school as a parent -- Peanut Bear’s first year at pre-school. I told our neighbor how much Peanut really enjoyed the school. She liked it so much, that she almost got me arrested or at least a visit from DHS.

Before I get into what almost led to my incarceration, let me explain Peanut Bear and the relationship I, a man who was as much a child as she was, had with her when she was three years old. She has always been a very smart, caring child, who in hindsight was probably just as insecure and in need of attention as she was confident and independent. She required, no, demanded, a lot of my time.

This was very difficult since she had a twin brother, Junior Bear, and a younger sister, Cookie Bear, who was just one at the time. There was only so much time and she demanded about 80 percent of it.

Looking back, I laugh (because it’s better than crying), but we butted heads a lot. I found myself getting in arguments with a three year old…and losing!

Anyway, getting back to what almost landed me in County Jail for 3-to-6…

Dropping Peanut and Junior Bear off at pre-school went flawlessly just about every day. Very few times did they get upset with me leaving. To the contrary, it was me coming back that was the problem.

Peanut Bear would be so upset she had to leave that she would scream and cry like the world was coming to an end.

Let me say that again. Peanut Bear would scream and cry when her dad, Papa Bear, the only Daytime Daddy in the school, would come to get her!

She would not easily leave with me! She would run back to the teacher, who we’ll call Miss Bearie, and would not easily come back to me, the only Daytime Daddy in the pre-school.

Do you see my concern here? A seemingly well-balanced child would flip her lid when her dad, a man who was home with her all day, would enter the room. You would’ve thought I was some horrible person.

Now, let me put this into perspective. I would be battling with Peanut Bear to leave and Junior Bear would be down the hallway towards the exit and Cookie Bear would be in the carrier. So I would be arguing with Peanut to come, while begging Junior Bear to stay, all the while making sure I don’t forget Cookie Bear. Can you see why I’d be sweating and looking completely guilty of whatever thoughts were running through Miss Bearie’s head?

“Miss Bearie! I love you! I want a hug!” Peanut would say.

See, it wasn’t as much Peanut Bear not wanting to come with me, but wanting to stay with Miss Bearie.

At least that’s what I’m telling myself.

Vacation from Vacation

2009-09-16T19:31:00.000-07:00

You hear that?

If you listen very carefully, you might just hear it.

Do you hear it now?

That’s right, nothing. Yes, the sound of silence. It’s a beautiful sound.

See, it was a busy summer for Papa Bear and the crew. It seemed like we were going somewhere different every weekend. If we weren’t at my parents’ house, we were at Mama Bear’s parents’ house. If we weren’t at some party, we were down the shore.

I know, I know. You’re thinking, “Quit your complaining. I would love to be at the shore.”

You’re right, I love it there.

Only this summer was a lot tougher than past summers. Junior Bear and Peanut Bear, now both six years-old, were like little fish. And it wasn’t Mama Bear who would spend hours at a time in the water with them. It was me, Papa Bear, the one who burns. Cookie Bear would spend time at the shore line, but by the end of August she too was coming in and need to be watched.

It got to the point when I was telling my boss about all of this he said, “You need a lifeguard just for you and your kids.” He was right. Only, I knew a few lifeguards growing up and they’re really just sleeping off their hangovers and looking at the bikinis, so I thought it best I do it on my own.

Although, on my own with three kids is not a great idea either. See, I’m sort of a push-over when it comes to the kids, so it was hard for me to get them to get out of the water. I would say, “Come on, time to get out.”

They respond: “Five more minutes.”

Me: “Okay.”

…10 minutes later

Me: “Let’s go now.”

Them: “Two more waves, dad, please.”

Me: “Okay. Two more waves.”

…20 waves later…

Me: “We really have to get back to the chairs. Let’s go. You’re turning purple.”

The turning purple thing is what got them. But once they warmed up, they were pulling at me to go back in with them.

Oh well, I could think of worse things to be doing than spending quality time with my kids. It was actually really fun. I can’t remember the last time I was in the water that much.

Honestly, though, as much fun as I had, it’s a little refreshing to have the kids back in school. It allows me to have a vacation from their vacation. Did you ever think you’d need a vacation from vacation and look forward to going to work?

They’re all (including Mama Bear) going to bed earlier now, which allows me some quality time with the laptop. There was actually a point this summer when Mama Bear said to me that I needed to start blogging again, because it seemed to be stress reliever for me. My therapy.

I think she’s right.

Even though I’m probably not the best at this, it does allow me time to sit back and reflect on the good things.

Papa Bear's been a Bad Boy

2009-08-11T18:05:00.000-07:00

To all my faithful PBM readers;

I apologize. I have been a bad boy. I haven't been faithful to my blogging.

The key to me having the time to blog was the school year. The kids and Mama Bear, a teacher, go to bed early during the school year, giving me time at night to blog.

Well, during the summer not only does Mama Bear stay up later, but so do the kids. It wouldn't be fair of me to take time from them to blog.

See you in a few weeks when school's back in session and I get time to continue to record my unique experiences on this blog.

Thanks,

Papa Bear

Good Afternoon Babies!

2009-07-20T18:03:00.000-07:00

There were times being a Daytime Daddy when days seemed to drag on, especially when Peanut Bear and Junior Bear were infants. The days would run into another, making almost every day seem like ground hog day.

I'm sure many of you know what I mean. The monotony of changing countless diapers and conducting seemingly endless feedings was sometimes too much to take.

At the onset of my daytime Daddy duties I was too afraid to take the kids out of the house. Actually, afraid might not be the right word. Overwhelmed might be more accurate. The thought of taking a pair of newborns anywhere, was a little much for this first-time dad.

So to pass the time at home, I took to entertaining myself, sometimes, I'll admit, this was at their expense.

Remember, I am a sports nut from north Jersey. So just about all sports fan from the New York area listen to WFAN. Well, fortunately for me, where I live in the Philadelphia area, I can listen to the station on the radio (I don't know what I would've done had I been cooped up in a house with two infants and had to listen about the Eagles all day).

Anyway, the afternoon hosts at the time were Mike Francesa and Chris Russo. The show was called 'Mike and the Mad Dog' and Russo would open the show with his patented scream and intro.

Here is an example of it that I found on Youtube...

Well, when I would wake the kids up from their afternoon nap, I would 'borrow' Russo's schtick and put my own Papa Bear spin on it. I would sneak on their room and in my best Chris Russo voice...

(start out quietly and then get louder)Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!! Good afternoon babies and how are you today?! This is daddy, the time is 2 o'clock on this 5th day of June 2004 and I'll be taking you through the rest of the day until Mommy gets home at 5 o'clock and I go to work.

Now, before you think this was a form of child abuse, let me tell you the kids grew to absolutely love it. By the time I was done with my bit, they were up and jumping at the side of the crib, and it kept me humored.

Cookie being Cookie

2009-07-06T19:33:00.000-07:00

It’s been awhile since Papa Bear has made an appearance, and for that I apologize. It seems every time I went to blog my home internet was down or I was just tired. Well, it was down again tonight, but I am making an effort to carve out some time to say hello and share a couple of recent stories even though I'm tired.

First story comes from the tales of Mama Bear, who is now home for the summer and is having a blast with the kids. As a matter a fact, she is having such a good time she told the kids the other day she would take them to nearby Valley Forge Park to show them “where the soldiers fought in the Revolutionary War.”

Peanut Bear, the 5-year-old, responded, “I’d like to see where they fighted.”

Mama Bear expalined, “It’s fought. Not fighted.”

Cookie Bear, the 3-year-old, not missing a beat gave an example to her older sister: “Yeah. Like last night I ‘foughted’ in your bed.” (Insert her sound effect here).

I know. It’s not a Papa Bear story, but I find it hard to believe that if it wasn’t because of me, Cookie Bear might’ve not known about “foughting.”

Also, since I last left you, t-ball has ended. It was a great time. The kids enjoyed it and I had a fun time coaching. I had my doubts at the start as I thought the full uniforms and trophy at the end was a little overkill, but as usual I was wrong. The kids loved the uniforms (I thought they wouldn’t really care) and they absolutely loved the trophies (I thought it wouldn’t matter to them). They loved the trophies so much they slept with them next to their beds for the first week or so.

Junior Bear enjoyed himself all season. He is really good, making great strides since the season began. He was excited about games, wanted to be where the action was and held his own at the plate.

Peanut Bear was also really good. She was actually named the Instructional T-Ball League Player of the Week for the final week of the season.

It was great that she was honored. I realize she is just 5, but she worked really hard, practicing at home and paying attention at games and team practice. She is very competitive, which is resulting in problems here and there with her twin brother Junior Bear, but that is who she is right now.

However, I do have to ask the question: Why does Instructional T-Ball for 5-year-olds have a Player of the Week? The point at this level is to let the kids enjoy the game and learn. Every kid hits, every kid scores, there are no outs; so why is one kid honored over the others? I don’t get it. Either every kid gets honored or no one does. I don’t think 5-year-olds are going to care about player of the week honors. Honestly, we (my kids and I) didn’t even know there was a player of the week award before Peanut Bear was named. And not knowing there was a player of the week award, didn’t take anything away from their experience.

PBM on Betty Confidential

2009-06-19T11:56:00.000-07:00

Yet another Father's Day mention for the PBM. This time by ours friends at Betty Confidential, naming the PBM a Dad Blog worth reading! Enjoy!

http://www.bettyconfidential.com/ar/h/a/a06326.html

Papa Bear on ivillage.com

2009-06-18T14:20:00.000-07:00

I've held off on mentioning this for a few weeks because I didn't know how it would pan out, but NBC Universal owned website ivillage.com asked me to write an article on things to do for your Stay-At-Home Dad this Father's Day.

As you all know, I was a stay-at-home dad for about a year and then a Daytime Daddy for another four. You'll notice they edited my words to make me a Stay-At-Home Dad for five years. I wrote them to let them know of the difference. But they left it the way it is.

Anyway, here is a link to the article. As of Thursday afternoon it was part of the homepage lead. Not sure how long that will last, so I am giving you the direct link.

http://parenting.ivillage.com/mom/structure/0,,fm8rhnb4-p,00.html

There it is on the left side... Papa Bear next to Brad Pitt (who would've thunk it??) Of course though, that's not a picture of Papa Bear. It just takes you to the article.

PBM Featured on Goodyblog

2009-06-16T13:51:00.000-07:00

The Papa Bear Memoirs continues to make strides. Thanks to all who have been loyal readers and welcome to all you first-timers to the blog.

I'm proud to announce that Parents Magazine's Goodyblog, in honor of Father's Day, recently featured the blog, calling it a "great new dad blog."

I thank them for the kind words.

If you are a first-time visitor I encourage you to check out the archives along the right side to check out some of the older postings.

Here are some of my favorites (in no particular order):

http://papabearmemoirs.blogspot.com/2009/02/lets-get-him.html

http://papabearmemoirs.blogspot.com/2009/02/hairy-picture-day.html

http://papabearmemoirs.blogspot.com/2009/03/slight-misunderstanding.html

http://papabearmemoirs.blogspot.com/2009/03/hell-hath-no-fury.html

http://papabearmemoirs.blogspot.com/2009/03/dad-beware-of-children.html

http://papabearmemoirs.blogspot.com/2009/02/world-needs-ditch-diggers-too.html

Thanks again to everyone out there!

Well, You Asked...

2009-06-09T14:19:00.000-07:00

So my sister emailed Mama Bear and I recently on behalf of one of her friends who is going to be having twins. Since we lived the chaos of twins, her friend wanted to pick our collective brains about what to expect, what was needed and all that fun stuff. So, here was my response (some names were changed to protect the innocent). Let me know if it was too much. My sister thinks it was over the top. But I can tell you it's all the truth.

Dear...

The first 2 -2 1/2 years are absolute hell. I'm not just saying that to scare you -- I mean it!!!

Think about what it's like to have have one baby and now times that by two. It starts with lack of sleep, piles and piles of dirty diapers, endless amounts of bottles, creative ways to feed two babies at once (utilize the boppy), and countless trips to the doctors office (who, by the way, if he was ever on time it would be a sign of the apocalypse).

And that's the easy part!

Just when that ends, they turn into toddlers!!! Avoid this at all costs!!! Once they learn to walk, your days of leaving the house are over. Avoid teaching them to walk until they are at least 30.

One goes up the aisles, the other goes down the aisles. You now have to decide who you are going to grab first. Some argue this is life's first lesson in teaching them who you love more. Usually it's the one nearest to the sharper items (at least it was in my case). But once you get him, don't just put in him the stroller, DUCT TAPE HIM TO THE SEAT!!! Trust me when I say he will find a way out when you turn to get the other child.

Then, this one touches this, that one touches that. "No" become the word you say the most. There was one point when someone asked me if we were Japanese, because I was in the store saying "Junior No! Peanut No!" the person thought our last name was "No."

When you leave the store, you learn that your children just broke their first law and you became an accomplice to a crime, as they have that cute little toy you walked passed hidden in their stroller. You know, the toy you said he couldn't have, took from him and put back on the shelf. Well, somehow he got it back. How? I still don't know, but he did.

When you get home and want to relax, you plop in a movie. You shut your eyes for just a minute only to open them to the toy hammer being slammed on your head.

Before you know it, you're in your own house looking for your son. You go upstairs, downstairs, in the bathroom, in your room, check under beds, behind couches and then you happen to look out the window and notice he's half way up the block walking to the playground. You go to get him and when you get inside, the other one has the phone in her hand. You grab it from her and hang it up. As you are in the middle of screaming at them, the police show up at your front door. Apparently she called 911 by accident when you ran outside.

After you convince the nice officer you are a sane individual, the day is over and as you lay in bed you realize you have to do it all again tomorrow.

Only one thought got me through this. I knew one day they would have to change my diapers -- and that is going to be my ultimate revenge.

Seriously, though, congrats on having twins!!!

Papa Bear

First-time Dad Woes

2009-05-29T18:53:00.000-07:00

Being home during the day with infant twins is a challenging task for anyone, but is was especially hard for me because, well, I’m a guy.

I’m not speaking for all dads who stay home with the kids, as I’m sure there are plenty who could handle the kids and house with ease. However, for me it was difficult.

On top of having to make sure two kids were fed, cleaned, dressed, rested and kept in good health (which was stressful enough), at the beginning of my tenure as a Daytime Daddy there was a certain expectation of me to keep the house in good shape.

Now, just because I was home during the day it didn’t mean I was domesticated. Sure I can do laundry, but I’m a little challenged at folding it. Sure I can run a vacuum, but I’m not good at cleaning. And of course I can use a bathroom, but not good at…I think you get my drift.

Needless to say, it was very difficult for me to keep up the home and watch the twins. Fortunately, my wife caught on to this early on and the household duties were quickly lifted from my to-do list. I still did the “guy” things, like mow the lawn and balance the checkbook (not sure if that’s a guy thing or not, but for the sake of this it is), but the cleaning chores were taken from me. Mama Bear felt it was better for her to clean, rather than clean-up my clean-up. Apparently that’s how bad I am at cleaning.

To give you an idea of how challenging it was for me to just watch over the kids, here are a few things I did as a first-time father:

I used to write down the time of day the kids had a feeding and how much they had. This helped me remember when I fed them and figure out how long it would take for them to get hungry again. At the time it made sense, in hindsight it was silly. Now, I would tell someone to just feed the kid when he gets hungry.

My diaper challenges also started at an early stage. I would try and be proactive and as soon as I heard a noise I was stripping them down. Well, this didn’t work out that well. See, as soon as I removed the diaper, more would come out, dirtying everything in sight. Of course there was the time I lifted Junior Bear’s legs to ease his “exit,” only to learn I assisted in his wetting his face!

When the kids were older, I once dressed the Peanut Bear in Cookie Bear’s outfit and Cookie Bear in Peanut Bear’s outfit and sent them to pre-school. When asked by Mama Bear later that night what I was thinking, I responded, “I thought it was odd you picked out clam diggers for Peanut and full-length pants for Cookie.”

Point is, I often screwed up the easiest of tasks and was clueless I did so until someone pointed it out.

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Note to self: Expect the Unexpected

2009-05-21T18:31:00.000-07:00

I've been real busy this last week. Not that you want to hear about everything I'm doing, but I've been full-steam ahead on the basement bathroom (drywalling the walls and ceiling and spackling everything), work has been exceptionally busy trying to fit in a bunch of meetings before the holiday and t-ball seems to be every night of the week (although it's just twice). Then, just when I didn't expect it, the washing machine starts acting up (looks like the pump isn't working right). Ugh!!!

Anyway, speaking of the holiday and expecting the unexpected, we had a unique exchange with Peanut Bear and Junior Bear regarding Memorial Day this week when we were getting ready for our Wednesday night t-ball game.

Peanut Bear asked, "Why do we celebrate Memorial Day?"

Mama Bear: "So we can remember all the people who have died fighting for our country."

Peanut Bear: "Well, I don't know any dead people!" (Saying it like she wouldn't be able to celebrate the holiday like everyone else).

...But wait, it gets better...

Junior Bear (jumping right in and not allowing Peanut Bear's punchline to fully sink in): "You mean, like the African Americans?"

...catching me completely off guard...

Papa Bear: "What?!"

Mama Bear: "They've been learning about the Civil War in school."

Papa Bear: "Oh. In kindergarten!!!???"

So then we had to take the time to explain all of this to them (and when I say "we" I mean Mama Bear).

...Everyone enjoy the long weekend!

Sleep Part 2: Sleep Safety

2009-05-14T18:26:00.000-07:00

Last week I wrote about how sleep deprivation can take its toll on parents. This week I’m going to touch on how sleep can actually be dangerous – that’s right dangerous!

You might think I’m crazy. How can sleep be dangerous?

Well ladies and gentlemen, allow me to explain.

It all started simple enough. You’ll remember the end of my last post mentioned that the kids, especially Peanut Bear, woke me up in the morning by sticking her little fingers in my eyes, mouth, ears and nose (that’s right, I said nose), and take my word for it things quickly escalate.

By now you know I worked mostly nights and operated on very little sleep (sometimes just a few hours) when the kids were younger. As a result, I usually found myself dozing off, mostly during the daily dose of Baby Einstein.

I figured I would place the kids in the Boppy, put the gate in the doorway of the room, pop in a Baby Einstein and lay next to them on the floor. Well, I quickly learned that I needed to do one more thing before lying down -- and I learned that the hard way.

One day I went through these steps and before I knew it my eyes were closed. It was a light sleep as I could still hear the TV, but that was about it. The kids were just starting to crawl and that’s why I put the gate up (safety first is what I always say). It was shortly after my eyes closed that I was awoken by Peanut Bear hitting me in the face with a toy!

I don’t remember what the toy was, probably because she gave me a concussion, but I do remember telling myself to never complain about an alarm clock again. I mean, have you ever been awoken by toy hitting you in the face?! Trust me when I say it’s not pleasant.

Then there were the times Mama Bear insisted on having Peanut Bear sleep with us at night (you’ll find most sleeping stories that end with a Papa Bear injury have to do with Peanut Bear).

It seemed harmless enough. I mean, how much damage can a 1-year-old do when asleep?

Well, ask my nose.

See, Peanut Bear had this habit of violently swinging her arms outward when asleep, and it seemed that my nose was always at the end of that swing. I can’t tell you how many times I was smacked in the face over the course of a night. I started sleeping with a pillow over my head just for safety.

You’d think that Papa Bear’s Little Girl would threat him a little better, even if it was in her sleep. But I have to admit, it wasn’t Peanut Bear who put the biggest hurt on Papa Bear.

One night Junior Bear, who was about 2-years-old at the time, got a treat and slept in our bed. Junior Bear, though, doesn’t like sleeping under covers for whatever reason and he does move around a lot (which is an understatement) and this led to one of the worst experiences in my entire life.

At one point, Junior Bear – my offspring, the boy who will one day carry on the proud Papa Bear name, the boy whose dirty diaper I used to change changed – lifted his leg and kicked me in the privates!!!

I woke up in such pain, screaming at the top of my lungs. It gave a whole new meaning to a starry night.

Mama Bear couldn’t believe what happened. She, of course, got a good laugh at my expense. But this leads me to wonder why she never gets this treatment from the children?

Sleep Part I: Learning to Operate Tired

2009-05-06T19:24:00.000-07:00

I once had a boss who said only one thing to me that turned out to be right – and it had nothing to do with work. He told me when I announced that my wife was pregnant, “You will now learn how to live just about the rest of your life tired.”

Boy, was he ever right.

Now, I could go on a completely different tangent on that boss and how wrong he was so many other times, but that’s a story for a different blog. So, for the sake of the PBM we’ll focus on this one thing he said to me that actually made sense.

I, like many first time parents, learned very quickly how different life is with kids and how tired you quickly become. The first night we brought the twins (Junior Bear and Peanut Bear) home from the hospital, my wife and I stayed up all night just starring at them as they slept. We were so paranoid that something bad would happen that we just sat on the edge of the bed and looked at them.

So, from that night nearly six years ago, I have been playing catch-up in the sleep department.

After we realized nothing would happen to them if we fell asleep, I can remember that we set our alarm clock for every three hours to feed them. The docs at the hospital told us the kids needed to have a bottle that often, so we carried that schedule into the wee hours of the morning. Also, since we had twins we also wanted to keep them on the same feeding and sleeping schedule, otherwise we might’ve been feeding and staying up around the clock.

Then, as the kids began sleeping a little longer and required only one overnight feeding, that’s when things really became interesting (for me at least). Since I was home during the day, I took many of the overnight feedings to allow Mama Bear the consecutive hours of sleep leading into work.

At this point, let me add that we formula fed the kids. We heard all the stories and got all the pressure from the nurses at the hospital on breast feeding, but with twins and a working mom, it just wasn’t going to work.

Here is my contractually required tangent…

Honestly, though, is everyone who is pro-breast feeding part of some kind of cult? I can’t tell you the pressure we felt from the nurses at the hospital. It honestly got to the point when I had to kick the nurse out of the room because she was making us very uncomfortable. I repeat, I kicked a nurse out of our hospital room!!! True story: At one point she told us our kids wouldn’t be smart if Mama Bear didn’t breast feed. Really?! Seriously?!

Trust me, for how much formula costs and how much we went through the first year, I would have much rather Mama Bear breast fed (if memory serves correct we spent around $3,000 in formula alone the first year), but breast feeding just wasn’t realistic with our situation.

Anyway, where was I?… Oh yeah, lack of sleep and overnight feedings.

As I said earlier the big theme of the first year with twins is keeping them on the same schedule. Same schedule and life is easy (relatively speaking), different eating and napping schedules and life is miserable.

So once we realized we could wait for Peanut Bear and Junior Bear to wake up to feed them, I would feed the kid who woke up first, then wake up the other (if they didn’t wake up on their own) to feed him or her, just to keep them on the, that’s right, same schedule. However, I realized that this wasn’t the best way to waste an hour of my life at 3 am. So, I had to come up with a different plan and that’s when the boppy became my best friend.

I would take both kids to the couch, put one kid in the boppy on my lap with the head on my right thigh to feed with my left hand, and the other kid on the boppy on the couch directly next to my right thigh with her head closer to me and fed with right hand.

The only downside -- I became such a pro at this set up I often fell asleep in the middle of the feeding. And since I rarely noted what time it was when I got up to begin the feeding, I had no idea how long I was asleep. I guess it really didn’t matter, but it was very frustrating when I put the kids back into bed only to have them get up an hour later hungry again.

Then there were the feedings at 6 am-ish. Mama Bear would more times than not take these feedings. She was up already getting ready for work and she would knock out the feedings to help out.

Now, don’t get me wrong, this was a big help, but there was a big down side – Papa Bear wasn’t ready to get up yet and the kids often were. At first this wasn’t a huge problem, but as the kids got older and I started working until 1 am every night, it really became a problem for Papa Bear.

Mama Bear would put the kids in bed with me and turn on TV so they could watch whatever was on PBS or Disney Channel or Noggin while I slowly got going. It was great when the kids fell right back to sleep, but when they were really ready to get up, I paid the price.

Often times, Peanut Bear, more so than Junior Bear, would find my face absolutely fascinating. While I was trying to sleep, she would put her little fingers in my ears, eyes, mouth and nose (that’s right, my nose).

Does anyone have any idea how annoying it is to have someone else stick their fingers in your face, especially when you’re asleep? It was so annoying for the seriously sleep deprived Papa Bear.

Now that the kids are older, it’s nice to be sleeping through the night…well kind of. Next week, in Part 2 of this series I’ll talk about how sleeping can be considered a contact sport -- in our house at least.

Twitter, Facebook or email Papa Bear.

Down But Not Out

2009-04-30T19:30:00.000-07:00

I was planning on starting a series on sleep deprivation this week, but I am going to wait a week as I need to get something off my chest. It’s a fairly serious matter and if I wait any longer to tell anyone, it might just get worse.

See, I’m in an abusive relationship. That’s right people, Papa Bear is being abused. I just don’t know how to tear myself away from this horrible nightmare. Every time I think things are going to change, it just reverts back to the way it was. I stick around each and every time, thinking things will get better, but it doesn’t and actually gets worse and worse each time.

Now, before you start thinking that Mama Bear is beating me, or that the kids are unleashing on the Old Man, let me just say that’s not the case. See, Papa Bear continues to get abused by one of his first loves – the New York Mets.

I know, I know, you’re thinking, “This guy is nuts. What the heck does he mean? It’s just baseball.” Well, for me it’s not just baseball. It’s more than that. It’s my original passion, one of my longest loves.

I understand that this isn’t your usual PBM Experience, but this is one of those topics that has molded me into what I am today and therefore fair game for The Memoirs. So deal with the rant.

First, let me tell you that as I write this the Mets are just 9-12, coming off a 3-3 homestand and heading into Philadelphia for a series with the Phillies. As you may remember, I am a long-suffering Mets fan living in the Philadelphia region, making this upcoming series even more painful for me.

Anyway, I’m not going to go into detail about everything that is bothering me about the Mets, but I am going to touch on some of it. So without hesitation, here we go:

This team is made up of a bunch of choke artists. The core of this team has choked away comfortable leads late in the season to miss the playoffs the last two years and the season prior to that choked in the playoffs. After the choke job two years ago, I felt this team should’ve been rebuilt, and when it wasn’t even after last season, I became irritated. Now, this year, this team can’t muster any late-inning magic or any kind of magic for that matter. Once this team falls behind they are done. It doesn’t matter if it’s late in the game or early in the game, once this team falls behind you can turn the TV off. This group has no guts, no heart. I’m sorry to say it, but this is how I feel at this time. I’m so freaking frustrated! Do you have any idea how hard it is to watch a game when you know your team is going to lose?!

Next…I really dislike Oliver Perez (I’m not going to say hate). The lefthander is a head case. One thing goes wrong in an outing, and he implodes. I didn’t think they should’ve re-signed him in the offseason, and instead signed a less expensive option like Randy Wolf. At least with Wolf you know what you’re going to get. Even in his bad starts he’ll gut out some innings. Perez folds like a lawn chair when things don’t go his way and the result is he taxes the bullpen and his teammates. I can’t stand him right now.
I want to believe in this team. I want to root for them. But when they show me absolutely nothing, it’s hard. Honestly, I feel like crying right now.

I could go on forever on this, but I have to move on and admit that I have issues. I’m trying to deal with them, but I fear I’m creating a monster and here’s why.

This past football season, after the Giants (my football team and by default Junior Bear’s team) fell behind to the Eagles in their playoff game; Junior Bear started screaming “Damn it.” I was so mad at the team I didn’t say anything to him.

Mama Bear, a bandwagon Eagles fan (the worst kind), told him to stop it. He didn’t and kept going. “Damn it. Damn it. Damn it,” he said over and over, daring her to do something with some real anger in his voice.

Mama Bear asked me, “Are you going to say anything to him? Tell him to stop maybe?”
I said, “Why? He’s right. They stink right now. He should be mad.”

Well, Junior Bear got sent to the naughty step and the Giants still lost.

I don’t know. I’m try to not let my teams’ results affect my moods, but it’s hard. To be honest, though, a little passion never hurts. I tell myself that it could be worse, because even though the lows are hard to deal with (see this year’s Mets as example), the highs are great (see Giants Super Bowl win versus Patriots two years ago as example).

Twitter, Facebook or email Papa Bear.

When NeighBears Attack...

2009-04-26T20:26:00.000-07:00

It was a harmless weekend in the Papa Bear household. Kids had a t-ball game on Saturday, Gamma and Pop Church came down to visit from north Jersey and Pop Doo Wop and I worked on the basement bathroom on Sunday.

The weather was wonderful all weekend and on Sunday before I resumed the bathroom project (Mama Bear thinks this is going to be done before Memorial Day, I beg to differ) I did some yard work. I’m trying desperately to grow grass in the yard, so I was planting some seed and then watering.

The kids, along with our NeighBear’s kids (we’ll call them Ry-Ry NeighBear and Bruiser NeighBear for now, I’ll have to get the official names from the parents), helped out. Ry-Ry is the age of Peanut and Junior, while Bruiser Bear is 2, is the height of a 5-year-old and has the strength of a 16-year-old. He is also my little buddy. Like everyone else, he loves The Papa Bear!!!

Anyway, they all helped me spread the seeds and then I let them water the lawn. First, I soaked them all and then let them go wild on each other.

That was until Ry-Ry Bear decided to get me. He gave me this look and I said, “He’s knows better then to get Papa Bear.”

He then smiled and skwirted away!

As he soaked me head to toe, I ran towards him, snatched the hose from him and got him back. Just as I was getting him, Mrs. NeighBear came home from the store and was laughing that he got me. I’m a good sport -- it was funny -- but I think I scared Ry-Ry Bear when I got him back. I think he thought I was mad at him, or he was just mad at me for getting him.

Either way, it reminded me of a time when I was finishing the basement. It was a late summer day and I was lugging drywall into the house all by myself.

Now, keep in mind this drywall trip was frustrating. I was at Home Depot for like an hour trying to get everything, as the people there are not very helpful. I had 10 sheets of drywall and at least three employees walked right past me and never offered to help, leaving me to pull it off the shelf, put into the cart, get off the cart and into my minivan all by myself.

It’s really amazing to me, because I’m trying to lug around all this heavy material, and Mama Bear goes there for light bulbs and gets offers for help at least four or five times.

Anyway, it was a hot humid day and I was sweating like a beast. I was carrying two sheets of drywall at a time over my head, into the house and then down the basement. Junior Bear, who was three at the time, for whatever reason had the hose. As I made my way with the last set of drywall, he saw my vulnerability (hands over my head, carrying something heavy and not able to move quickly) and he absolutely soaked me with the water, forcing me to move quickly and as a result, the drywall broke in two pieces over my head.

Mama Bear, who was standing on the porch watching, thought it was the funniest thing she ever saw, and while I stood there completely defeated, Junior Bear continued to soak me.

All those years home with him and his sister and this is the thanks I get. I hope he doesn’t think this is something I’m going to forget very easily.

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T-Ball is Consuming My Time...

2009-04-24T11:47:00.000-07:00

T-Ball took up a lot more of time this week than I thought it would and as a result the PBM takes a minor hit with no late-week content other than this. Kids had practice Wednesday night and game Thursday night and there is another game scheduled for Saturday.

So figured I'd take this chance to pass along a useful educational website that Mama Bear turned the kids onto called Fun Brain. It can be found at http://www.funbrain.com/. Junior Bear and Peanut Bear love the math baseball game and it's great that they are into it. Only problem is they want to play it every chance they get and that means fights -- rather disagreements -- in the morning when we are late to get to the bus stop.

Guess I can't have everything. At least the kids are into learning and if that means missing the bis once in a while and driving them to school, so be it.

Finally, if you're truly jonesing a PBM story, check out the archives and read away.

Parenting Can Be a Pain in the…

2009-04-19T18:55:00.000-07:00

This past Thursday was set to be a big day in the Papa Bear household. Peanut Bear and Junior Bear (or Tank Bear as he is asking to be called now) were set to have their first t-ball game that night. In anticipation of the long night, Mama Bear and I made sure the kids got to sleep early the night before.

Thursday morning was a relatively easy one for me, at least at the start. The kids got up without much of a problem and we had a few minutes to spare before we had to leave for the bus. The kids enjoy it if they get ready early enough because they have a little time to play.

Anyway, on the way to the bus stop, Cookie Bear, who attends pre-school but walks with us to the bus stop every morning, caught her toe on the curb when running across the street and scrapped up her leg pretty good.

So, being the good dad that I am, I picked her up to comfort her. But as I lifted her I felt my back getting ready to pop. I told Cookie Bear I was going to have to put her down, hoping I could avoid in the inevitable, but as I bent to put her down – pop – there went my back.

Now anyone who has had any kind of back problem can attest that the ensuing moments after the pop are not very pleasant. As your back starts to spasm, the muscles put pressure on your lungs and it makes it very difficult to breathe.

At first I wanted to “man-up” and keep going. The moms from the neighborhood were about to ascend on us on their way to the bus stop and I didn’t want to look like something was wrong with me. But I could barely breathe, Cookie Bear was crying, and Peanut and Junior Bear, knowing daddy was not 100 percent, were like sharks and took full advantage of the situation, running full steam ahead. They actually ran, having a ball and not stopping once to help poor old dad (You can bet I’m going to remember that when their 16 and want to go to the movies).

I couldn’t yell for them to stop since I could barely breathe and the first mom was about to come out the door of her house right across the street. So, knowing I was going to have to fall to a knee to catch my breath anyway (see, this has happened numerous times before), I went to a knee, pulled Cookie Bear close and acted like I was tending to her scrapes even though all I could see were stars.

It was the only thing I could think of at the time. See, I’m the only father who regularly drops the kids off at the bus stop and I didn’t want to be the first one to fall to injury. That can be very embarrassing for a guy.

So, after a minute or so, I was able to catch my breath and get up. I was in extreme pain, but “manned up” long enough to make it to the bus stop, let Peanut and Junior Bear know I was upset with them and get back to the house.

The crappy part of everything is that you can’t let things like this interrupt your life when you have kids. I can remember when before we had kids and I first injured my back, I stayed in bed all day. Now, I can’t stay in bed no matter how much I want to because I have three other lives I have to look after.

IT’S NOT JUST MY BACK…

…that’s giving me problems. Remember reading about Papa Bear’s dirty little secret? Well, my fantasy baseball team is failing big time.

Through two full weeks in three different leagues, my teams are a combined 21-41. I get a chance to put together a team of the best players in Major League Baseball and I pick a group of guys that put me 20 games under .500 through two weeks!!! I don’t know if you know how bad that is?! It’s horrible, horrendous, embarrassing, disgraceful.

I dedicate hours of my life per weeks to this and this is the best I can do?! I mean, by the time I kick the bucket, I might have actually spent more time on fantasy teams than sleeping. It’s absolutely frustrating!

In my big money league, the league I spend most of time on, my team is 7-13. 7-13! I think I’m going to have to rethink my hobby and maybe get into something I’m actually good at.

OH YEAH…

Peanut Bear and Junior Bear were awesome at their t-ball game. They tied 24-24 as every kid gets to hit and as a result score since there is never an out made. Peanut Bear was very serious, asking to play pitcher to get into the action, while Junior Bear was practicing his “ninja” moves in the outfield. Can you tell who the competitive one is right now?

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What Was I Thinking

2009-04-15T18:08:00.001-07:00

You remember last week I talked about my trip to the Jersey Shore in the summer of 2008 with the three kids and no Mama Bear. Remember, the non-stop chatter about superheroes? Well, here’s the rest of that story.

It was Day 2 of our trip. Mama Bear wasn’t expected to join us for another day and Gamma and Pop Church had house cleaning to do. I just came off what felt like 24 hours of answering the same question over and over, but the weather was nice and it felt like a new day.

See, I’ve learned as a parent of three younglings you have to have some sort of short term memory loss to get by each day sane. If I let what drove me completely nuts the day before to continue to bother me the next day, you quickly lose your senses. I associate this to a closer in baseball; he can’t loom on what went wrong the day before when he blew the save. He needs to concentrate on the task at hand to try and succeed. The key is to learn from what went wrong and improve.

It’s that last part I’m not good at. I’m a little slow at learning.

Like a glutton for punishment, I took all three kids to the beach on my own. No parents, no friends – nobody. Just me, two 5-year-olds and a 3-year-old on an endless beach. A beach with lots of water. Lots of water and sand. Lots and lots of sand.

As soon as we got there, Peanut Bear wanted to run in the water, Junior Bear wanted to stay at the shoreline and play, and Cookie Bear…well she didn’t want to do anything but stay at the towels.

So here’s the scene: A beautiful late summer morning, Papa Bear who burns a shade of red never seen before even by a lobster and sweats like there’s no tomorrow, a girl (Peanut Bear) pulling on his left arm towards the shoreline, a boy (Junior Bear) with a hand full of sand that he’s trying to put down the back of Papa Bear’s swimsuit and a third child (Cookie Bear) 20 yards away at the towels screaming that she doesn’t want to go towards the water.

What was I thinking!?

I had to quickly turn the tables.

But how?

I had a flashback of an event that happened earlier in the summer with the twins and Pop Church (my dad), who I think intentionally sent me to the beach by myself as payback.

See, earlier that summer Mama Bear, he and my mom (Gamma) took the kids to an event at the Wachovia Center in Philadelphia. I was working the event, so couldn’t be there to help. At one point, Junior Bear and Peanut Bear got hungry and he agreed to take them to the concession stand.

Well, no sooner did he agree, Peanut Bear bolted out of the chair and ran up to the concourse. Junior Bear was close behind, and my dad was sweating to keep up. Needless to say the twins beat him to the top. Peanut Bear didn’t hesitate and made a left hand turn, disappearing out of sight. Junior Bear had a moment of hesitation and paused at the top. He looked left, then looked down at his Pop, probably thinking “I shouldn’t do what I’m about to do,” and then made a sprint to the right.

Flustered, my father threw it into a gear he hadn’t seen in decades. He ran after Junior Bear first since he was closer and then tracked down Peanut Bear. When he got them together he yelled like he hadn’t in years.

Pop Church: “That was bad! You never run away from me!”

I’m sure he added some other choice words to get the point across. He had every right too. That’s a scary thing. And only because everyone turned out okay, I can laugh at the next thing that happened.
Junior Bear, not happy he was being yelled at, immediately got mad at his Pop and said, “You’re not very nice.”

Well that sent my dad at a whole new level, a level that was later explained to me by Mama Bear as Phase Purple, because my dad turned purple yelling.

Anyway, back to the story (focus Papa Bear, focus).

I couldn’t go in the water. That was the absolute wrong answer -- that much I knew. So I let Junior Bear get me with the sand. He wasn’t going to stop until he got me. I then chased the twins up to Cookie Bear and buried them. I buried them all up to their heads and that’s how they all stayed until Gamma and Pop got there a few hours later. If they can’t move, they can’t cause problems, right?
No. I’m joking. I didn’t bury them up to their neck -- just to their waste. They got out and we had fun.
I am quickly learning that vacations aren’t relaxing anymore and I need a vacation from vacation.

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If you liked this story, try the archives (located along the right-hand column) and find some other stories of a grown-up child trying to navigate through fatherhood.

I Must’ve Been Trippin’

2009-04-08T18:42:00.000-07:00

It was late in the summer of 2008 and I was taking a two week vacation. Mama Bear had to report to school for a few days to prepare for the upcoming school year so I made plans to take the three kids down the Jersey Shore and meet my parents at their shore house.

The weekend prior, we had been to Ocean City, NJ for a 40th birthday party for my boss at the time. Well, in classic Papa Bear fashion, I had left a bag (or two) of our stuff at his house. I’m not totally convinced I am the one to blame for leaving the bags there, but Mama Bear insisted that she asked me to get the bags and I didn’t hear her. This has happened before so I can’t deny that that didn’t happen. Regardless, the kids and I had to make a stop.

Now the trip down the shore was my idea. I thought it would be great to give Mama Bear some time off before she had to go back to work and I thought it would be nice to enjoy the sunshine and water with the kids.

My son, Junior Bear, was at the beginning stages of his superhero phase at this point. And like I’ve probably said before, when Junior Bear gets into something, he jumps in with both feet and it becomes an obsession. By default, his sisters also get into whatever phase he’s in.

It took about two hours to get to Ocean City, and it was probably the longest two hours of that summer for me. I had to explain the story of Superman, Spiderman, and the Star Wars Jedi multiple times. Let me tell you that there are only so many times a grown man can explain these stories in one trip.

Junior Bear: “Where did Superman come from?”

Papa Bear: “Krypton.”

Junior Bear: “How does he get his powers?”

Papa Bear: “The yellow sun of earth.”

Peanut Bear: “Where did Superman come from?”

Papa Bear: “Krypton! I just said that.”

Junior Bear: “How did Spider-man get his powers?”

Papa Bear: “The yellow sun!”

Junior Bear: “No dad, Spider-man not Superman.”

Papa Bear: “Oh, he was bit by a spider.”

Peanut Bear: “Dad, how does Superman get his powers?”

Papa Bear: “The sun!”

Cookie Bear: “Are we there yet?”

Papa Bear: “No.”

Peanut Bear: “How much longer?”…

I think you get the point. It was rapid fire on Papa Bear. I mean, I had to tell the stories at least 100 times (at least it felt that way) and it got to the point where I was just trying to end the conversations by pleading ignorance.

But as I painfully learned that doesn’t work. See, Peanut Bear thinks she can get to the answer by just emphasizing a different word in the question.

Junior Bear: “Dad, how do Jedi get their powers?”

Papa Bear: “I don’t know.”

Peanut Bear: “No, dad; How do Jedi get their powers?”

Papa Bear: “I don’t know!”

Peanut Bear: “No, no, Dad; How do Jedi get their powers?”

Papa Bear: “I heard the question. I just don’t know.”

Peanut Bear: “Dad, dad, dad, listen to me. How do Jedi get their powers?”

Thinking back it would’ve been easier to just answer the question the first time.

I think I had a boss like this once. Although at least he had the creativity to ask the same question three different ways.

By the time we got to my boss’ place (by the way, he wasn’t the boss who asked the same question a ton of times), I was ready to stick a fork in my eye. I’m sure many of you parents feel my pain. See, Mama Bear rarely has this trouble with the kids. She has an unbelievable way with them. She can get them to do anything she wants, similar to what a Jedi could do. Me, on the other hand, I’m more like Han Solo, no special powers and I usually resort to banging things to try and fix them (some might even call me Jar-Jar Binks). As a matter a fact, the kids have a way of getting me to do whatever they want. I’m like their little puppet.

But fortunately for me, when we arrived my boss was game for the superhero talk. He had Junior Bear engaged for quite awhile. He even introduced a few new superheroes to him, which was great until the ride from his place to our place when I had to answer those questions.

“Who’s the Hulk again?...How did he get his powers?...Where does the Hulk live?...”

Ahhhh!!!!

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If you liked this story, try the archives (located along the right-hand column) and find some other stories of a grown-up child trying to navigate through fatherhood.

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Baseball’s Back; PBM Making a Donation

2009-04-05T18:52:00.000-07:00

It’s Sunday night and I’m excited that the baseball season has finally started again. I absolutely love watching baseball. I know I’m probably in the minority here, as many don’t like the slow pace of the game, but I really enjoy the sport.

There are a number of reasons why I like watching baseball, but it wasn’t until last year that I came to find the biggest reason why – Junior Bear likes watching games with me.

He sneaks out of bed, comes down and watches a few innings with me. It is fun for me because he asks me a ton of questions (mostly baseball, but some other questions as well) and it turns into a real bonding experience for us. I’m not kidding myself here, I understand why he comes down – he’s not ready to go to bed and knows that if he acts interested I’ll let him stay up longer. But that’s okay with me.

This also means the start of fantasy baseball season as well. I had my draft last Sunday and think I came out with an average team. But here are some of the players I’ll be pulling for (or cursing out) for at least the start of the season. Chase Utley, Mark Teixeira, Dan Haren, Carlos Lee, Mike Pelfrey, Lastings Milledge, Denard Span, Stephen Drew, Chone Figgins and a bunch of others.

I have two other teams, but won’t bore you with all 50-plus players I will be rooting for as the season begins.

I think it will only be a matter of time before I have Junior Bear making roster moves for me. He actually asked if he could have his own team after seeing the Alyssa Milano fantasy baseball commercial on ESPN.

Finally, Titi Bear (my sister) is taking part in Revlon Run/Walk for Women, a charity event to raise money and awareness for women’s cancer. If you are so inclined, you can make a donation to her personal page by clicking here.

The Papa Bear Memoirs will also be donating any and all money raised through the site’s advertising from March and through April to her for the event. Since I’m just learning all this blog advertising, I’m not really sure how much money will be raised this way, but every little bit helps.

So, if you’re on the site right now, make sure you click on the Google Adsense ads that are at the bottom of each of the first three entries to see if you’re interested in purchasing something. I do think that the site makes money for just clicking on the ad as well. Also, if you’re planning a vacation, need life insurance, have been procrastinating on your taxes or need an auto part, please check out the other ads on this page.

2009-04-03T07:41:00.000-07:00

Hey Papa Bear Memoirs fans, check out my guest blog at Gina Chen's Family Life blog at the Syracuse Post-Standard. Gina is excellent at following, informing and educating her readers on family/parenting news and much more. She also touches on a number of other aspects and you should check her out at http://blog.syracuse.com/family/ . The guest blog can be found by clicking the picture above. ~Enjoy.

3 Kids, 1 Guy And A Doctor's Office

2009-04-02T18:00:00.000-07:00

Earlier this week I mentioned Cookie Bear and I were feeling under the weather. Well, the next day Mama Bear and I decided it was best to take her and Junior Bear, who has a swollen toe, to the doctor. I also kept Peanut Bear home from school that day, because she was showing the same symptoms I had, so thought it was best to take her as well.

Crazy, right?

Three kids, one parent and a doctor’s office. So much could go wrong.

But little did. Why? Because Papa Bear is an old pro at this – not because I’m perfect, but because I learn from my mistakes.

See, in my four-plus years of playing Daytime Daddy, I became quite the regular at the pediatrician’s office.

I took the kids there for everything. In addition to the regular check-ups, if I heard a cough, saw a runny nose or diaper rash, anything and everything, I was there. I have been there so much the receptionist just puts our files on the top of the desk once we walk in (I don’t know if that’s because she likes us or because she figures the quicker we get signed in the quicker we get out of there).

Anyway, being home during the day, I had the pleasure (some might say misfortune) to be the one to take the kids to most of their scheduled checkups, unless of course Mama Bear was home for the summer and then I’d let her go (yeah right, I let her).

The couple of years taking the twins was not an easy task. At first, I had no idea what to expect when going to the doctor’s office with kids. I thought all I had to do was bring…well, the kids. Right? Simple, I thought. What else could I possibly need? It was a doctor’s office.

Boy was I wrong!

After I waited over an hour during my first solo visit I realized it would be a good idea to bring some “supplies” with me the next time. I learned that just because they’re a pediatrician doesn’t make them anymore on schedule than a regular family doctor. Diapers, toys, bottles, all would have been helpful – especially the bottles.

So, from then on out I packed like I was going on a week’s long vacation. I brought, bottles (with water), formula (in the canister that you already have the portions divided), snacks (like Cheerios), toys (those teething kind came in handy); three diapers each, band-aids, a change of clothes and much, much more. Mama Bear thought I was nuts.

Packing was the easy part. The travel was a completely different story. Assuming I left the house on time, I would haul two baby carriers and a full diaper bag through the parking lot (because why should the door be close to parking?), up a flight of stairs (why should the doctor’s office be on the first floor?) and then wait, and wait, and wait, until we got called back to the office to wait, and wait again.

Now this could be physically draining, but I would soon find that this was nothing compared to bringing two toddlers to the doctor’s office.

Have you ever tried to do anything with a toddler? If you have multiple that by two and then imagine you’re a dad. The result? A mess.

Here is an excerpt of my first visit to the doctor’s office with Junior Bear and Peanut Bear when they were almost two years old (Keep in mind, this is just my side. I honestly can’t remember if the kids were talking, but as you will see it doesn't really matter if they were talking):

Nurse: You’ll be in room 8.

Papa Bear: Thanks…

Hey, over here!

Junior, Peanut not that room. This one!

After chasing them down the hall, we backtrack and get in the room…

Okay, guys just sit down…No. Not there. Over here…No! Not on that chair. It rolls and spins, you’ll get hurt…Here. Sit here. No! NOT ON THAT CHAIR!!!...Fine, fine. I’ll spin you once. Okay, okay, I’ll spin you too. Then you have to sit down…Okay, that’s it. No! That’s enough!...Peanut, stop the spinning!...I hear something behind me…Junior! Get out of the trash can. That’s dirty…I get him and while I’m wiping him down…Peanut! Enough with that chair!...Fine. One more spin and then we’re done…I put him down and go to her…Junior! Pleeease get out of the trash can!!... Turning around I notice something else….Peanut! Stop climbing up the drawers!...You’d think a pediatrician’s office would be kid proofed..Quick Papa Bear, think of something…Here, you look at this hammer thing. You look at this flat stick…Watch, sit here…Stop ripping the paper! No you can’t jump, and you please let go of that! (the thing doctors look in your mouth, ears and eyes with)… Sit down PLEASE!!!...Finally get them down and tap their knees…Okay, here. Just tap your knee. No! Don’t hit him with it. Stop it!...He starts crying...Give that to me now…AAAHHHHH!!!!!

Knock, knock

Doc: Hellooo. Looks like Daddy has his hands full.

Anyway, I think you get the idea. I still have nightmares about that, but I learned something from that visit -- bring crayons and coloring books. Those two things have been packed for every visit since.

Twitter, Facebook or email Papa Bear.

Spring Bug Has Hit The House

2009-03-30T18:48:00.000-07:00

I’m only going to quickly check in early this week. Usually, my first post of the week is up and getting reaction (or ignored) by this time, but after a long weekend it appears some kind of bug has hit the household.

I feel lousy and Cookie Bear has a fever, meaning it’s only a matter of time before Mama Bear, Junior Bear and Peanut Bear come down with the illness. Lucky us! Got to love how a bug travels through a house with such disregard for everyone, taking down anything and everything in its path.

Anyway, I wanted to fill you in on the first T-ball practice for Peanut Bear and Junior Bear. It went really.

Of course, like many parents, we had to deal with the kids’ anxiety. Junior Bear’s nerves hit him prior to the start as he was nervous to go, while Peanut’s hit her during the practice as she wanted to leave in the middle of an at-bat. So, there was a lot for me to overcome since Mama Bear wasn’t there. Nana managed to come for assistance, but she was busy with Cookie Bear.

The highlight, or lowlight depending on who you are, was when Peanut Bear stepped to the plate and tried to “grip it and rip it.” Only problem was she failed to “grip it” and nearly took off the third baseman’s head when she let the bat fly.

Everyone got a laugh from it, except Peanut Bear, who does not like to be the center of attention. I had to talk her off the cliff after that as she was very embarrassed by the incident. She managed to get over it much later in the day (when Mama Bear actually talked her off the cliff) and is ready for her next practice.

Anyway, off to overdose on cough medicine and hit the sack.

Dad, Beware of Children

2009-03-25T20:00:00.000-07:00

Warning: This material might not be suitable for all readers. If you’re thinking of having kids, trying to have kids or one day want to have kids; please stop reading here. The material in this post may deter you from wanting offspring. If you are already a parent of young children, I’m sorry…

When I think of what Hell would be like, I think of the time period of my life from August 2005 until about December 2007. Those two-plus years seem like a lifetime away to me now, yet at the time they felt like an eternity to live though.

Now, before I go any further I’m going to tell you that I love my children to death. BUT when they become teenagers and they argue with me about why I’m not allowing them to do a certain something, I’m telling them it’s payback for what they put me through during this time period.

Let’s set the stage for you: In August 2003 Cookie Bear was born and Junior Bear and Peanut Bear were just turning 2 years old (they are twins). I was playing Daytime Daddy, working mostly nights (usually until about 1 am) and then getting up at the crack of dawn to take care of the trio (so that’s about five hours of sleep per night). The twins were napping just once a day by this point and I was trying to find any moment I could to catch cat naps.

I’m sure you could imagine what it is like to watch after two very active 2-year-olds. Then, throw a newborn into the mix and it had this dad begging for mercy (or for at least multiple shots of whatever whiskey was in the house, unfortunately there wasn’t any).

Needless to say, this time period was by far the toughest of my life.

Anyway, it wasn’t too long after Mama Bear went back to work, I decided to try and take the three kids out to run some errands. However, I quickly learned that stores like Target, Wal-Mart, CVS and the local supermarket weren’t meant for people to shop at when outnumbered 3-to-1 by the younger species.

At first, I tried. I really did. But on my first trip I learned that the stroller wasn’t going to work, because I couldn’t push a stroller and a shopping cart at the same time. And the stroller could fit only so much into it. So, that idea failed (not the first time one of my great fatherly ideas failed, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last either).

So, my next option was trying to find a shopping cart with the two seats at the top to put the twins side-by-side and Cookie Bear in the basket in the baby carrier. However, half way through my first trip like that, I realized there were only so many canned goods you could put on a newborn before someone would call the cops.

I joke, nobody called the cops. I’m a little smarter than that.

Then, I tried keeping Cookie Bear in the carrier and putting her at the top of the cart and allowing Junior Bear and Peanut Bear to “help” me shop. Before I even get into how quickly I realized that didn’t work, let me tell you it’s not easy chasing two 2-year-olds through a busy parking lot.

So, after all of this I came to the realization that I was going to be held up in the house for a good long time.
I did find some creative ways for a juvenile father to entertain himself with three kids, but that’s a blog for another day. Right now I’m sharing with you the “creative fun” three kids had with a juvenile father.

Don’t get me wrong, there were times when I would get out of the house during the day, but that was just three times per week when I would drop Junior and Peanut Bear off at a local daycare school.

See, Mama Bear thought it would be good for them to interact with other young kids their age for a couple hours. Easy for Mama Bear to say, it might have been a good time for the kids, but not so much for Papa Bear.

When I went to pick the kids up it was total chaos. I mean total and complete chaos. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. It was the blind leading the blind.

I would walk in carrying Cookie Bear in the baby carrier, and once I got into the classroom door I would get bombarded by a bunch of runny-nosed 2-year-olds. And when I say a bunch, I mean 10-15 easy. Every kid in the classroom came at me. I felt like Arnold Schwarzenegger in Kindergarten Cop.

There were a few times I managed to keep Cookie Bear snot free, but there was always, and I mean ALWAYS, another obstacle to overcome. It was never an easy time getting them to and from school.

When I went to pick them up, as soon as I opened the door to let them out, all heck broke loose. Peanut Bear would run down one hallway and Junior Bear would shoot the other way. I would then have to, quickly put Cookie Bear back inside the classroom and chase after the other two.

After I caught up with them and got Cookie Bear back (now full of boogies I should add), it would take some creative thinking to get each jacket on without another track meet breaking out.

Honest to God, I don’t know how I did it. Whatever trick worked one day, wouldn’t work the next. I felt like some magician playing to the same audience every day, having to always find a different way to pull the same rabbit out of a hat everyday just to keep their attention.

Trust me when I say, that if you asked me when I was 25 what I’s be doing when I was 30, it would not be playing “playing peek-a-boo in a public place with three kids.”

Anyway, IF I got the jackets on the kids (sometimes I would have to pick and choose my battles and give up on the jackets), they would both want to be picked up and carried to the car. Of course just five minutes earlier they wanted to run; now they want to be picked up.

Why?

I have no idea. It’s just the way it was.

But I couldn’t carry both; I was already carrying Cookie Bear in the baby carrier. So I’d have to pick one (usually the one making the biggest fuss) and the other would then either decide to sit down in protest, leaving me there, sweating (literally sweating bullets like some idiot) while I struggled to carry a 2-year-old in one hand and a baby carrier in the other. Or -- get this -- the other one would run, and I mean shot-out-of-the-cannon run, straight for the front door, again making me sweat to catch up.

Let me tell you that this can wear on a grown man. I can’t count how many times I just wanted to start cursing at the top of my lungs.

This was my routine every other day of my life for about six months (that’s when we realized the twins weren’t getting anything special out of the daycare and it was just driving us – I should say me -- nuts).

It only got better when the Peanut Bear and Junior Bear hit preschool the next school year.

Picture this: Cookie Bear’s a year old and too big for the baby carrier; Junior Bear is a tank and Peanut Bear is the boss. (Did I mention I have multiple bosses in my life?)

Anyway, I go to pick up the twins from preschool and Junior Bear takes off down the hall screaming Daddy, yet running away from me (go figure), Cookie Bear is struggling to get out of my arms to play with the same toy Junior Bear just left behind, and Peanut Bear is crying at the top of her lungs that she has to leave.

That, my friends, was my life four days a week for nearly a year. An entire school year!

I bring up this absolute chaos because the other day after I dropped Cookie Bear off at preschool, I saw a mom going through the same thing. Her arms full with a newborn, an older child sprinting ahead of her, and a middle child begging her to pick him up. Not more than 3 ½ years separating the three children.

As she was sweating and holding back what I’m sure were the same curse words I was holding back, I, who am like a pro with one kid, said to her, “Boy, I don’t miss those days!” She shot me a smile, but I knew she was crying inside.

I left that place skipping, knowing those days are over for me!

Look, I understand that there will be plenty of other challenges that lay ahead of me in parenting, but as long as I don’t have to chase after anymore toddlers, I’ll be a happy camper!

Twitter, Facebook or email Papa Bear.

What A Weekend

2009-03-22T19:03:00.000-07:00

It was a busy weekend for the Papa Bear clan as we attended my brother’s engagement party on Saturday night at Gamma and Pop Church’s house in north Jersey and then had to travel back to suburban Philadelphia Sunday to get ready for the week.

Saturday night went really well with the kids. I was talking to Mama Bear on the drive home Sunday about how proud I was of them. See, in the past gatherings like this were very difficult for us. Junior Bear and Peanut Bear, who are twins, would usually be acting up and Cookie Bear would be very clingy.

However, on Saturday night the twins were very well behaved and Cookie Bear was excellent. As many of you parents may know, it can be extremely difficult to enjoy yourself and a gathering like this, because you are constantly chasing the kids around or they are literally hanging on you (I mean pulling on both my arms at the same time) the entire time.

But on this night there was a complete transformation by the kids. They were social with the other side of the family, they were able to entertain themselves and they were very well behaved. It's amazing to see when kids hit certain maturity levels. Obvioiusly, I know their not adults yet, but this was a breath of fresh air.

There was a brief moment when Junior Bear decided to become the focus of the party, as he started to tell his dirty diaper jokes and was forcing himself to burp, but it was short lived and honestly (for me) very entertaining.

Now let me explain to you that Junior Bear is in kindergarten and currently, for whatever reason, dirty diapers are very funny to him. In case you are wondering what his dirty diaper jokes are like, here’s an example:

Junior Bear: Knock-knock

Papa Bear: Who’s there?

Junior Bear: Diaper

Papa Bear: Diaper who?

Junior Bear: Diaper dirty diaper (followed by hysterical laughter)

Of course there was the moment Saturday night when gifts were being opened and for whatever reason there was a collective silence and he rips off the loudest burp he has ever released. I was actually surprised that his dinner didn’t follow it up.

Right now he is also his biggest fan. Every time he says something he thinks is funny, he follows it up with hysterical laughter. Honestly, though, I think he gets that from me.

Oh yeah, one other thing. Junior Bear cleaned up at Wii tennis Saturday night as well. He put the smack down on Mama Bear a number of times (Mama Bear is really bad) and also beat his cousin, uncle and Peanut Bear.

It really was Junior Bear’s weekend.

Papa Bear’s Tourney Pool…
As you know, I am addicted to everything sports, so it’s no surprise I’m in a few college basketball pools. I got off to a great start on Thursday, the first day of the tournament, going 15-of-16, but everything fell apart after that. I lost an Elite Eight team on Friday in West Virginia and once you lose an Elite Eight team in the first round you can basically mail it in.

The weekend didn’t get any better for me and I am now looking forward to my first fantasy baseball draft, which will be on Wednesday night.

A Cut Below

2009-03-18T19:19:00.000-07:00

It can be very tiring with newborns. I don’t think I’m breaking any news when I tell you that. But imagine being in my shoes when Mama Bear pushes out a set of twins for our first children. Double freakin’ exhausting is putting it kindly.

It was shortly after my wife went back to work following her maternity leave. Junior Bear and Peanut Bear were probably only a few months old. I was playing stay-at-home Dad at that point (remember I was laid off just a few weeks after Mama Bear gave birth) and would also get up in the middle of the night for one of their two feedings (I usually took the 3 or 4 am feeding since Mama Bear was going to get up in a few hours to start her day).

This lack of sleep can really wreak havoc on a person, and I was no exception. We were feeding every three hours, the kids weren’t really sleeping through the night and there didn’t seem to be an end in sight. I barely got out of the house and when I did I was hauling two baby carriers with me all over the place. It was really a trying time.

One day I was able to shake the kids and I went to the Hair Cuttery for a trim. If memory serves me right, it was a Saturday and Mama Bear stayed back with the kids.

I’m not going to lie when I say it’s nice to get out of the house by yourself every once in a while when you’re the primary daytime caregiver. It kind of gives you a chance to catch your breath.

Anyway, you know how this type of hair cut place works; you give your name and then wait for a stylist to come call your name. It’s kind of like the lottery in that you know who gives the good hair cuts at the place and who doesn’t just by looking at them and you are hoping and praying you don’t get called by someone who is going to butcher you.

So, I give my name and wait, hoping I don’t get the person who is going to screw up my hair. As I am sitting there, I am starting to fall asleep as I was exhausted. I was so tired I could barely keep my eyes open. I was trying everything I could to stay awake, going as far as looking through the only magazine left, Oprah (or some magazine that is not supposed to be read by any self-respecting male).

Anyway, I finally get called up and the woman who was cutting my hair was someone I had gotten before. She did a good job the prior times, so I was glad to get her.

I slowly get up from my seat in the waiting area and work my way back to the chair. I plop down and she asks me if I would you like a wash first. I say sure and she takes me back to wash my hair.

Now, as you know this can be completely relaxing. I think at one point my leg jerked as I began to fall asleep. I quickly woke up and pretended like it never happened.

After she was finished I went back to the chair and immediately fell into a trance. See, I’m not -- let me repeat NOT -- the kind of guy who likes to chit-chat when getting my hair cut. I want the person who is cutting my hair to concentrate on the task at hand. There is no need to distract him or her. One slip up and all of a sudden I’m looking like Telly Savalas. So, once I sat down I almost immediately shut myself off.

As I’m sitting there I hear her say to me, “You remind me of Gary.”

So thinking I missed part of the conversation, I give a little giggle to play it off like I knew what she was talking about I reply, “Okay.”

She gives me somewhat of a dirty look, but I’m too tired to even care what she’s thinking.

Fast forward a few minutes and I’m at the register paying. She hands me the receipt and at the bottom it reads her name and it’s at this point I realized what she said to me earlier. She didn’t say, “You remind me of Gary.” She said, “My name is Mary.”

I was so tired I responded to someone introducing themselves to me with “Okay.”

I said Okay! I might as well have said to her, I don’t care who you are.

I couldn’t believe it. I was too embarrassed to say anything to her at this point. So I just paid, left her a tip, bolted out of there and never went back.

I began going to a different Hair Cuttery after that, but I do remember seeing her at the super market a week or so later and I again got a dirty look.

PBM on Twitter

2009-03-18T12:52:00.000-07:00

Papa Bear has joined Twitter, another social networking platform. The PBM Experience is spreading like wild fire -- or as a buddy said, "spreading like a virus." I'll take that as a compliment. Anyway, the Twitter name is http://twitter.com/PapaBearMemoirs. I think I made more friends in one hour on Twitter than I have made in my previous 30-plus years (not sure if that's good or bad, I'll let you know later).

Remember you can still friend me on Facebook at PapaBear Memoirs or if you're still stuck in the stone ages you can email me at papabearmemoirs@aol.com.

More Spider-man

2009-03-18T05:25:00.000-07:00

We stumbled across this Weird Al Spider-man/Piano Man song. The kids won't stop singing it. So I figured if it's stuck in my head, it might as well be stuck in yours.

Actually I've found that YouTube comes in handy when you need to keep the kids occupied for just a few minutes while you unload the diswasher or make a bed.

Listen up…

2009-03-15T18:38:00.000-07:00

I don’t want to share every moment of our lives, and I'll usually stick to the stories I’m directly associated with, but this story might give you a better idea of my situation.

I was talking to Mama Bear on Friday and she was relaying a funny conversation she had with a few colleagues at work earlier that day.

One of Mama Bear’s friends at work was saying that her younger child is pushing the limits. He or she (I don’t remember what sex the kid is) won’t listen the first few times she says something. Another one of her friends, someone who often comes over to our house and is a good friend of our family, says she has the same problems.

Mama Bear’s one friend then asked her if she had the same problems. Mama Bear said, “No. Our kids are really good. They listen to me every time I ask them something.”

Mama Bear’s close friend agreed, remembering a story of when she was over the last time. “They do listen to you,” she said. “Last time I was over, you only had to ask them once to put the coloring books away. But (Papa Bear) had asked them 10 times before that and they kept telling him to hold on.”

Why is it that I have such a problem getting them to listen to me the first time? That’s rhetorical.

Now I am exaggerating a little bit. The kids do listen to me (sometimes) and they are really good kids. I love them to death. They all know how to have fun and I love that. If I didn’t love them so much and love being a dad as much as I do, I wouldn’t be sharing these stories with you.

Mama Bear has an amazing way to get the kids to listen. She focuses on the positives and the kids really respond to that. She’s smart, fun and witty. I am a better parent because of her.

She does go to bed too early, but if she didn’t I wouldn’t have time to write these (so let’s thank her for that).

Now you’re catching me at a serious moment (listen carefully because these moments don’t and won’t happen too often). These stories are often just meant to be entertaining for you, focusing on my faults and making fun of that.

I only think it’s fair that I seriously tell you that I wouldn’t be able to laugh at myself so much if it wasn’t for Mama Bear. She is the rock and keeps the order and that if it wasn’t for her, I’d probably be crying more than laughing.

THE WEEKEND THAT WAS…
My father-in-law and I worked on the bathroom again on Saturday. This time we were filling in the holes we made with dirt and cement. If you forgot the problems I had a few weekends with the kids, laugh about it again here: http://papabearmemoirs.blogspot.com/2009/02/world-needs-ditch-diggers-too.html

For a brief recap on this weeked, exchange “please get out of the hole,” with “please get out of the cement,” and you get the idea. Actually, the kids were out most of the time with mom and nana. They came back with a Wii.

We hooked up the Wii on Sunday. I was initially concerned that I was going to have to put a time limit on them, which I’ll have to do anyway, but I think Mama Bear is going to also have to put a time limit on me.

We played baseball, bowling, golf and tennis. In baseball, I took Junior Bear deep, twice. Peanut Bear was talking mad smack during bowling and golf. Junior Bear was beating the competitive Peanut Bear with regularity in tennis and she was getting so mad that he started to let her win and was being so encouraging to her. At one point he was telling her, “That was a really good shot.” That would’ve been true if the ball wasn’t going into the stands. Cookie Bear, well, she was busy with her blocks and babies and wasn’t too interested. Good for her.

Papa Bear is a Parenting.com Fave!

2009-03-13T17:04:00.000-07:00

The PBM Experience is catching on! Parenting.com has caught the fever. Check it out here.

http://forums.parenting.com/blogs/daily-fave/posts/dear-dads-we-love-you-too

Hell Hath No Fury...

2009-03-12T06:17:00.000-07:00

This is from the files of When a Good Dad Goes Bad.

It was November 2007 and I was still playing Daytime Daddy. I had just dropped Junior Bear and Peanut Bear off at preschool and came back to the house with Cookie Bear, who was 2-years-old at the time and too young for school, and was taking care of some personal financing.

Mama Bear and I own a pair of rental properties with her parents and I pretty much oversee the daily operations of the investments. It was towards the beginning of the month and I had just deposited the rent checks a few days earlier. So I got online to make sure the checks cleared in time for the automatic withdrawals when I noticed that a large amount of money was missing.

Yes, missing! I immediately went into a panic.

Knowing I am forgetful, I ripped apart the house looking for one of the rent checks. After I couldn’t find the check, I realized I forgot to check the account history when I was online to see if the checks were deposited. (It’s amazing I can make it through a day without any major injuries).

Anyway, both checks were deposited and the account history showed that a withdrawal was made on the same day I was in a wedding party for a good friend of mine.

So I called my bank’s 800 number to get them to look into it. The lady I spoke to on the phone said that the withdrawal was made from a South Jersey bank and was signed for by a guy with my same last name, just a different first name – making it a clerical error and not fraud (remember that fact). However, she told me I had to call that local branch for them to fix it.

I then called that branch and, at first, I was sane. I explained my situation to the assistant manager, who then transferred me to the branch manager. That is when the problems started.

This dude (I’ll call him Sunshine) kept insisting that this was fraud and not a clerical error. Sunshine refused to give in and told me I had to file a police report and go to my local branch to file another report.

Oh yeah, and he said I was out of luck when I asked who was going to spot me the money for the two mortgage payments that were due in 48 hours. He told that when it has to do with identity fraud, which he was claiming, I would have to wait a few weeks, if not months, for my money.

BS, right? That’s what I told him in so many words.

By the time we stopped yelling at each other, I had about 15 minutes before I had to pick up the kids from preschool. On my way to pick them up, a very evil thought came to my mind – I was going to take all three kids to the bank right from school, meaning they were going to be hungry and tired.

So that’s what I did.

First, we stopped by the police station and filed the report. That took just a few minutes and the officer couldn’t believe that we had to go through these steps.

Then, we went to the bank. Of course, we had to wait for the assistant manager, as the branch manager was off that day. That was fine by me though, I was letting the kids have their way with that bank from the start, as they immediately began climbing all over the chairs.

Seeing the kids acting up, one of the tellers thought it would be a good idea to give the kids lollipops. I agreed -- the more sugar the better I thought.

About 20 minutes went by and we were finally called to the assistant manager’s desk. You could see this guy was having a bad day before I even got there. Sunshine had called him to warn him of my arrival and if memory serves me right, he was trying to fix another problem from another client just before we got there.

Anyway, the lollipops were almost finished when we got to the desk, meaning -- you guessed it – sticky fingers.

I explained my situation to him and he could barely keep his attention on me, as Junior Bear and Cookie Bear were playing musical chairs without the music and Peanut Bear began to creep behind him. The kids were behaving just perfect (insert sinister laugh here).

He then called the other branch and as he was doing that the lady who gave the kids the lollipops came over with some coloring books and crayons. Good idea by her, but what she failed to realize was there was plenty of other things on this guy’s desk for them to color.

As he was talking to the other branch manager, Cookie Bear went through about 50 percent of his business cards with the crayons. The rest were taken care of by Junior Bear’s sticky fingers from the sugar-filled lollipop he just devoured.

After the assistant manager hung up, he had a few more questions for me and you could tell he was stuck in the whirlwinds, not knowing what end was up.

He had me fill out some paper work and while I was doing this his phone rang. Now I couldn’t hear the other end of the conversation so this it was it sounded like to me.

“Hello.”

“Hi Ella.” (She’s the district manager I came to find out).

“I know. I know. I asked him to stay but he had to go. I am in the middle of dealing with a client.”

(Peanut Bear screams that she has to go potty, diverting the guy’s attention for a moment. I tell her to hold it.)

“What?”

“Oh, right. I know I can’t miss the pick-up, but what am I supposed to do? I asked if he could wait five more minutes and he didn’t.”

“Okay, it won’t happen again.”

(He then slams down the phone and violently throws his pad and paper across his desk into the window.)

By this point I was done filling out the paper work and I realized my plan had played out perfectly. The guy was frazzled. The kids tore apart his desk and took the attention from other bank personnel. He had missed the armored car pick-up and he got yelled at by his boss.

(In my mind, this was when I was saying, in my best Hannibal Smith impersonation, “I love it when a plan comes together.” And stick the cigar in my mouth smiling. Remember, he was the leader in the 80’s hit show the A-Team).

I wasn’t ready to leave yet as I didn’t have my money, but the guy told me that he believed this was a clerical error and he would take care of it and call me within the next few hours with an update.

So I took the kids out of the bank, with a quick pit stop at the potty for Peanut Bear, and treated them to Burger King to “reward” them for their behavior.

This is when Karma kicked in, as I quickly realized that two 4-year-olds and a 2-year-old can’t change their behavior so quickly. And I paid the price as the kids had me running around BK like crazy as they were jumping on the chairs, spilling drinks and throwing food.

I looked like the worst father and that day I probably was, but my point was made and the issue was taken care of, because when I got home there was a message on out machine saying, “I apologize for the error, your money has been refunded to your account.”

Papa Bear's T-Ball Fears

2009-03-08T20:03:00.000-07:00

Mama Bear and I recently signed up Junior Bear and Peanut Bear for an instructional t-ball league with the local little league. At first I was very hesitant to do this because all you are hearing about nowadays are horror stories about how parents are going psycho at their kid's sporting events.

I played organized sports my entire life, and for the most part enjoyed every experience. Sure, there were jerk coaches and nutty parents that I not only played against, but also for. I never let those people bother me too much. I just went about my business and tried to enjoy myself. Although, I did tell my mom that if she ever acted up at a game, I would quit playing sports.

Now as a parent, it is those nutty people who scare me the most. The last thing I want is for my children to have a poor experience doing something I used to love to do and I believe helps mold you as you grow.

So to try and overcome my fear I have volunteered to be an assistant coach for my kids’ team. I didn’t feel I was ready to have the responsibility to setup practice schedules and do all the work that goes into being a head coach because of my work schedule (not that there is a lot at the t-ball level), but I felt that being an assistant I could help make the experience enjoyable not only for my kids but for everyone. I think as the kids get older, I will take more of a leadership role, if not for the only reason to try and keep crazy parents in check.

Anyway, our team had our first parents’ meeting this past week. Overall I think it went really well. Almost all of the parents, including the head coach, are going through this for the first time and I think this is going to be a good time for the kids and parents.

After the meeting I got really excited and began looking forward to the season. So this weekend, with Gamma and Pop Church (my parents) making a visit and the weather reaching the 70s, we went out and bought the kids their first gloves, baseballs, bats and a tee.

When we got back from the sporting goods store the kids couldn’t wait to get started. I had a catch with Junior and Peanut for a couple hours and we had a blast. To do anything with a pair of 5-year-olds for more than a half hour is incredible, so to have a catch for a couple hours was remarkable.

Cookie Bear also got a little glove and ball, but it’s hard to have a catch with a 3-year-old when she has a glove in one hand and a purse in the other. She’s very girly and I don’t think t-ball will be for her -- I think we’ll be signing her up for “instructional shopping” not instructional t-ball when she is their age.

Anyway, when we first started having a catch, Junior and Peanut could barely catch the ball, were getting hit in the chest regularly, were throwing off the wrong foot and had me running all over the yard for errant throws. By the end, Junior was making Rickey Henderson-like snap catches (okay, it wasn’t technically a snap catch, but he was confidently snagging the ball with one hand) and Peanut was throwing the ball with some pop.

By the way, I quickly learned it can be very dangerous to have a catch with a pair of 5-year-olds at the same time, especially when they each have a baseball and they decide to throw the ball at you at the same time. Papa Bear’s “boys” got a scare a more than a couple times.

Honestly though, I couldn’t have been happier and more proud. I know this sounds corny, but I have been looking forward to this day since I found out my wife was pregnant (not the part about getting baseballs thrown at my balls, but rather the having a “real” catch with my kids).

I can remember when we went for the ultrasound to find out what sex the kids were going to be.
The ultrasound woman said, “Twin A is a boy.”

And as she went searching for Twin B (that what the doctors refer to twins as before birth - Twin A and Twin B) I immediately had the following conversation with myself.

“Yes! Awesome, someone I can have a catch with… Now, if the other is a boy that will be great. I can have double the catches. I can teach them how to throw, catch, hit… No, wait. If the other one is a boy, they won’t need me. They will be able to have a catch with each other and I won’t be needed. (Panic sets in) I will be a father with two boys and no one to have a catch with. That is so depressing. I need to be able to have a catch with someone. I hope Twin B is a girl. Please be a girl, please be a girl, please be a girl…”

And like the ultrasound woman knew what I was thinking she said on cue, “Twin B is a girl.”

“Yes!” I shouted. “I will have someone to have a catch with!”

After the confused look from Mama Bear’s face settled, something dawned upon me, it was only one word but it quickly had me wishing I didn’t have someone to have a catch with -- WEDDING. I was going to have to pay for a wedding!

So you can imagine my reaction two years later when we were in the same room finding out the sex of our third child and the woman said, “You’re having a girl.”

Papa Bear: (sigh)

Mama Bear: “What now?”

Papa Bear: “Awesome. Not only are we going to have to pay for three kids in college at once, now we get a pair of weddings.”

Anyway, getting back on point, I’m glad the kids are looking forward to t-ball, and I hope that I don’t turn into that crazy parent I fear.

Although after reading this over, I think I already am a “crazy parent.”

PBM Hits Facebook

2009-03-05T11:22:00.000-08:00

Papa Bear is not too tech savvy, but after a few hours of horsing around finally figured out how to open a Facebook page. Friend Papabear Memoirs to get updates sent to your Facebook page on when posts are made and also get some misc. thoughts and ramblings throughout the day.

A Slight Misunderstanding

2009-03-05T05:46:00.000-08:00

When Junior Bear and Peanut Bear were just over 2-years-old, I was in need of finding more and more creative ways to keep them in one spot when changing their diapers or pull-ups. As many of you know, it can be extremely difficult to keep them from getting up and running away, especially when you have to make the transition from the dirty diaper to the clean one. That’s nothing new or unique to my situation.

So what I did was to start playing with their belly-button. I would press on their belly-button and say, “ding-dong.” We’ve all done it; we pretend that the belly-button is a doorbell.

I would say, “Ding-Dong! Ding-Dong!”, and press on the stomach, making them laugh.

It was simple yet brilliant for this simpleton father. I would have to do this like four or five times before starting to change their diaper as they laid on the floor and a couple other times after I took the dirty diaper off. They would have fun during this and, as a result, would stay put as I transferred to the clean diaper.

I was so impressed with myself. I came up with a solution to a problem without turning to Mama Bear. See, I usually turn to Mama Bear as she is a teacher (a very good one might I add) and she often has the answers for me when dealing with the kids. Whether it’s coming up with the punishment that fits the crime to dealing with temper tantrums to sounding out words (for me not the kids), I would be lost without her.

Anyway, again, I was pretty happy that I came up with this solution and a sense of pride came over me. I felt that I was finally learning something after two years on Daytime Daddy duty – until my parents came over one Saturday that is.

My parents came down from North Jersey for the day. I can’t really remember what we did, but I vividly remember what happened shortly after dinner that night.

We had just got up from the table and getting ready for dessert when the twins needed to get their diapers changed. I left that chore up to Gamma Bear, as there’s no need for me and Mama Bear to have all the fun all the time. So, Gamma Bear was having the same problem I was having, she couldn’t keep the kids down and before we knew it, both kids were running around naked.

Needless to say, I was enjoying this. It’s fun to watch Gamma struggle and it soon reached all new heights as it was at this point one of the funniest things that I can ever remember them saying came out.

The twins ran to the steps and Junior Bear shouted to the family, “Daddy touches my ding-dong when he changes my diaper!”

Peanut Bear quickly echoed her brother’s words and I broke into hysterical laughter knowing what they meant. However, not everyone in the room got the joke.

“What?!” yelled Gamma Bear as her jaw hit the floor.

Pop Church (my dad) nearly choked on his coffee and gave me a look I had never seen.

To prove that I shouldn’t get arrested, I asked the kids to point to their “ding-dong.”

They both pointed to their belly-button at the same time and we all shared a good laugh, but it was at that point I had to stop pressing their “ding-dong” when changing their diapers.

I’m glad it came out then and not at the preschool. I probably would have been asking the twins to point to their “ding-dong” from behind bars if that happened.

Picture Days Will Be The End of Me

2009-03-03T07:02:00.001-08:00

Here's a follow-up to Hairy Picture Day story for you...

So I dropped Cookie Bear off at preschool today and the teacher says to me, "So you're the only one who filled out a form."

I was lost, thinking she meant a book order form. So I asked her what she was talking about.

"Today is picture day," she says with a big smile.

"Really?" I respond, thinking Mama Bear is going to kill me not only because I didn't do her hair special and I never removed the washable tattoo from her hand she asked me too. So now she will have crazy hair and a tattoo. (Boy I hope that photographer is going to hide that tattoo).

"Her hair is horrible," I tell the teacher.

"Oh don't worry about it," she says confidently. "This photographer is really good and will do her hair really nice."

Yeah, but she doesn't know my luck. I'm thinking I better just move a blanket and pillow to the couch right now.

How come I can't win with these picture days? I'm either screwing up hair, dressing the kids backwards or forgetting all together.

I have a feeling that if I end up taking the escalator down instead of up when my time on this earth is over, everyday is going to be picture day.

And this just in from the "It Just Keeps Getting Better Department": When I got to work this morning I had an email from Junior Bear's and Peanut Bear's school, tomorrow is Spring Picture Day at their school.

AWESOME! Let's see what I can mess up next.

Papa Bear's Dirty Little Secret

2009-03-03T05:32:00.001-08:00

I have a problem.

I’m an addict.

There, I said it. You happy?

I’m addicted to fantasy sports. But guess what? I like it! I’m not looking to get reformed. I’m not looking for help. I’m here to tell you, I’m a fantasy sports junkie and no intervention is needed.

Like millions of others in this country, my vices are fantasy football and fantasy baseball. Just to clarify, I’m not an addict in the sense that I join dozens of leagues and drop thousands of dollars. Actually, in recent years I have averaged only two baseball and three football leagues per year, which is about the average amount of leagues for most fantasy gamers I know.

However, the leagues I am in, I go in 100 percent and become completely obsessed – most times to the point where I physically lose sleep at night. The picture above, I drew that about 10 years ago as the logo for my fantasy teams. I know, I know, I'm a loser. I’ve toyed with the idea of asking my family doctor for a medication to help overcome this, but I have shied away from that -- for now.

Right now I’m in full blown fantasy baseball mode. I’m in a keeper league with 11 other guys and I am itching like crazy to get started. I want to start trading keepers and acquiring picks. I just want to get going.

As this blog-o-mine progresses, you will find that my obsession with fantasy sports is a problem. Family trips used to be arranged around when lineups needed to be set (internet phone has helped that a little) and my mood is usually directly associated with how my team is doing. It’s a problem – I know.

There are also dilemmas I run into when I have to decide between my family and my fantasy, and as weird as this may sound, it’s not an easy choice. If you’re a fantasy gamer you know where I’m coming from. If you don’t, you’re not a true gamer. Like the Sunday when you need Drew Brees to throw four TDs to give you the win and you have to go to some great aunt's house that doesn't have a TV or your kids ask you to take them to the playground, knowing your reality team has already played.

Ask any hard-core fantasy gamer out there and they will all tell you that this is not an easy choice to make. Choose the party or the playground and you're miserable for not knowing what's going on, choose the game and, well, you know. It’s truly a problem we all run into.

Currently, for my baseball league I’m on a kick where I want to try and acquire all of my man-crushes and rename my team "The Mantasies." For those of you who don’t know, “man-crushes” can be defined as a guy you (as a male) have an affinity for. Right now, my man-crushes include Chase Utley, David Wright, Joey Votto, Ryan Zimmerman, Matt Kemp and Brandon Webb. I don’t completely know why I have man-crushes on every single one of these guys. Reasons vary from they play on my favorite team (the Mets) to I drafted them on my fantasy team the year they played really well and I developed a crush on them as a result.

It is at this point I feel the need to point out to you that I am a married man and add that many fantasy gamers have had numerous man-crushes through the years. I’m not the only on. I swear. If you’re denying it, you’re lying.

Why do I want to do this? I don’t completely know. Probably has to do with my obsession for fantasy baseball and hours I need to kill thinking about it. Who knows?

Did you think I was lying when I said I have a problem?

I have even managed to get my 5-year-old son Junior Bear into it to the point he knows how many points for every 10 yards rushing and how many points for a touchdown. I rationalize this to myself that I am teaching him basic math skills.

Me: "20-yard touchdown is worth what?"

Junior Bear: "Eight points!"

Ah, Papa Bear's so proud.

I also get him in on the decision making when I feel I'm in a rut, but that's a story for a different day.

Despite my joy and bonding, some family members fear I am creating a monster. I'll let you decide.

As we move closer to my draft and then into the season I will be sure to keep you updated on how my team is doing.

Snow Days: Fun on YouTube

2009-03-02T15:22:00.000-08:00

The kids and Mama Bear were off from school Monday because of the snow storm and I worked from home, so we wasted some time on YouTube. Junior Bear is really into super heroes right now and we took time looking up theme songs of super hero shows. All three kids were into it so it was fun. You will come to find that whatever Junior Bear is interested in, Peanut Bear and Cookie Bear will also get into. Not really sure why that is, but I was able to come across some classic cartoon intros.

We also watched the trailers of all three Spider-Man movies, Superman Returns, and we caught up on some music videos to satisfy the girls. Then we watched Spider-Man 2 and 3.

An Uneventful Weekend

2009-03-01T18:33:00.000-08:00

This weekend was pretty lackluster. Saturday we did some work on the bathroom again and no new stories there, as the kids were as “helpful” as usual, but things picked up a bit later on Sunday.

We went to a birthday party for a boy in Cookie Bear’s preschool class and it went really well. It was at a local zoo and was really a nice event.

Part of the party was the zoo staff showing off some of the animals. We saw a chinchilla and a parrot up close and then went on a mini tour, feeding goats and sheep and seeing eagles, falcons, foxes, wolves and other animals that just sat there on the cold day.

Nothing really funny happened. But I always cringe when the staff at these kind of events asks a group of 3-5 year olds, “Any questions?”

Anything can happen at that point. I’m sure we all have our funny stories that stem from that question. Here are a coupe highlights from today.

After seeing the parrot, one of the kids asked, “Why don’t carrots fly?”

And then there was Junior Bear, who I think had his hand permanently raised throughout the party. Although, I don’t think he completely understands what a question is.

When the chinchilla was out and we were asked if there were any questions he was called on a said, “Chinchillas have excellent hearing.”

Then, when on the outdoor tour after the guide told the group that a falcon was the fastest animal, able to travel at up to 180 m.p.h., Junior Bear felt a need to tell the guide how fast every other animal could go – even though he had no idea.

We saw some deer-looking thing and he said, “They could run 100 m.p.h.” to the guide. She said, “Close, 50 m.p.h.” To which he responded, “That’s what I meant.”
Repeat this story for the wolves, ponies, and the three other sleeping creatures we saw on a 30-degree day.

Well the snow is starting to fall here in the Philadelphia area, so I’m sure I’ll have some more stories from Monday as I’m sure there won’t be school.

A Hairy Picture Day

2009-02-26T04:32:00.000-08:00

I had just started working days full-time again in January of 2008 after spending over four years of playing Daytime Daddy. However, I wasn’t completely free of weekday child duty as I had to still get the three kids up in the morning, dressed, fed, and cleaned up and to pre-school by 9 am. The kids would get up at about 8 am each morning, giving me an hour to get all of this done.

Mama Bear, who is a teacher and leaves early in the morning to get work done so she can be back early to relieve the sitter, makes life a little easier on this fashion-challenged father by picking out the clothes for the kids the night before. However, one of the toughest parts for me every morning is doing the girls’ hair, something Mama Bear obviously can't do since she leaves before the kids get up.

There is so much that goes into getting the girls' hair ready it’s ridiculous. Take a deep breath and read.

I have to: wet the hair, brush out the knots, put in some kind of lotion, brush it again so that lotion spreads out, put in some other kind of hair product (but only if the hair in not cooperating), put it in a bow or barrette or whatever mom leaves out for me (but I have to grab just the right amount of hair -- too much and hair clip doesn’t shut, too little and I don’t get enough of her bangs and then her hair gets in her eyes), then use a little bit of hair spray (but not too much hairspray b/c that makes her smell) to make sure it stays in place. Oh yeah, did I mention that I have to fight her to stay still during all of this. Have you ever asked an active 4-year-old or 2-year-old to stay still for more than one minute? It doesn’t work! Who knew that you had to have a special degree to do girls’ hair?

In comparison, for my son all I have to do is wet it and brush it and it stays the entire day.

Needless to say, this is very stressful for me. I mean, I want to make sure my girls look pretty and “feel” girly. And to make matters worse, Mama Bear quizzes the girls every night on what Papa Bear did with their hair that day. More times than not, I screw something up.

Anyway, it was picture day at preschool – a very stressful day for me as you can imagine. If I screw up their hair on picture day, I’m sleeping on the couch for a week!

So, Mama Bear picked out these great outfits for the girls - matching pokka-dot tops that are kind of like dresses with solid stretch pants things. Junior Bear had a simple shirt-pant outfit. So I got the girls dressed, kept them clean through breakfast (which was a first) and did their hair nearly perfect. I mean I was in the zone that morning. Their hair looked awesome (for my standards). I was so proud of myself.

Fast forward a few weeks.

I go to work and for some reason (I'm not sure why) Mama Bear was home from school that day and she picks up the proofs from school.

Well, 12:30 rolls around and I get a call from Mama Bear telling me she just picked up the kids and... Well I'll let you hear the conversation.

Ring, ring

Me: “Hel…”

Mama Bear (near laughter): “Hey Genius!”

Me: “What?”

Mama Bear (laughing): “What?! I’m looking at the pictures…”

Me (bragging): “They came out great, right? I know the girls' hair was perfect when I dropped them off. If the hair is messed up it's not on me.”

Mama Bear: “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Their hair was great and the kids are smiling. Only problem is the girls’ shirts are on backwards. You put their dresses on backwards!”

Me (laughing): “What? No.”

Mama Bear (laughing): “Yeah! The buttons are supposed to be in the back, not the front!”

Me: (still laughing): “Huh. How about that? Who would’ve thought it?”

So What

2009-02-24T09:45:00.000-08:00

Peanut Bear, as you will learn, is very independent. God bless her for that. Anyway, here is one of her favorite songs. I had to spend hours one Saturday recently on You Tube showing her Pink videos. I don't know if I should be happy about this or worried.

The World Needs Ditch Diggers Too

2009-02-22T18:48:00.000-08:00

So I finally started my basement bathroom project this weekend.

About two years ago I finished my basement, making a play area for the kids, TV area and an area for the big kids (pool table, pinball machine, etc). Well, I also framed out a bathroom when I did this, but never got to it and lost the motivation to begin the project. For the past couple of years it’s been used as a closet. I’ve had to hear Mama Bear complain that the one bathroom in the house was not enough, despite my counter argument that the extra closet space was needed (Oh well, I tried).

In the recent months Mama Bear got quotes from area contractors and plumbers. The prices hovered around $10K. After seeing these prices we quickly got motivated to do this ourselves, but I was still not ready to start the project. However, my father-in-law came over with a concrete saw Saturday and I took the hint that it was time to start the project.

I also figured it would be best to capitalize on my father-in-law’s motivation. I’m not going to lie; he is the brains behind most of these projects. He is very handy and he gives me the confidence that I need that we can do it. We actually make a good team. Usually he hems and haws and is tentative to get going on something, and it takes me to start the project to kick start things.

For example, this weekend, even with my procrastination, he came over with the saw. He stood there and stared at the floor for a while, broke out the plumbing book and sat down. I just grabbed the saw and started cutting.

In case you were wondering, we are going with an up-flush system so we don’t have to cut the floor all the way across the house to the main septic line and get into that mess. The pump in the tank is often referred to as a “sausage grinder,” which totally grosses out Mama Bear so I try to say it as often as possible.

Mama Bear: “When are you going to start the bathroom?

Me: “You mean the one with the sausage grinder? Soon.”

Mama Bear: “Jackass.”

Another conversation.

Mama Bear: “We need another bathroom.”

Me: “I know. One with a sausage grinder.”

Mama Bear: “Jackass.”

Getting back on track (you’ll find I’m easily distracted), to start the project we cut a two-to-three foot square outside the bathroom in the unfinished part of the basement, creating a ton of dust and horrible fumes from the gas-run cutter. We then had to dig three feet down. As we got half way into it, we were wishing we had a few other people here to help. It gets tiring digging into the dirt below your house (it’s very hard by the way, harder than you think) and lugging up the dirt one 5-gallon bucket at a time up the stairs to dump outside, but it wasn’t the digging and hauling that was the worst.

Junior Bear and Cookie Bear were here (Mama Bear and Peanut Bear were having a special day at the spa). So we had the "help" of a 5-year-old and 3-year-old. You can imagine how that went.

“No you can’t dig.”

“Please get out of the hole!”

“Pleease stop dumping that dirt back in the hole!!!”

“Pleeease get out of the hole!!!”

“Pleeeease let go of the shovel!!!!”

“Pleeeeease get out of the hole!!!!!!”

“Pleeeeeease stop trying to jump on my back!!!!!”

“Pleeeeeeease get out of the hole!!!!!!!!”

Sunday got a little easier, but not much. Junior Bear got into watching Batman with Uncle, but Peanut Bear wanted to catch up on what she missed out on Saturday.

“Dad, can I get in the hole?"

“No.”

“Dad, can I dig?”

“No.”

“Dad, can I get in the hole?”

“No.”

“Dad, can I use the shovel?”

“No.”

“Dad, can I…”

(Thinking I can distract her) “Where’s your mother?”

“Upstairs.”

“I think I hear her calling you.”

(Fast forward 30 seconds).

“Mom wasn’t calling me. Can I get in the hole?”

I think you get the idea.

Anyway, I’ll be sure to keep you updated on the bathroom project.

PS - In case any Upper Moreland officials are reading this, we have a permit so no need to stop by and check. Thanks.

Dinner at Papa Bear's in 10 Years

2009-02-20T13:07:00.000-08:00

With boy/girl twins and another girl just two years younger, I can completely see this being our dinner conversation in 10 years. Enjoy.

"LET'S GET HIM!"

2009-02-19T18:51:00.000-08:00

Last spring my then 4-year-old son started developing a problem dealing with death. It was a dilemma that my wife and I were not expecting. I mean, who thinks you’re going to have to explain death to a 4-year-old?

Well, that’s the situation we found ourselves in and it was a difficult thing to deal with. But it was, nevertheless, a very comical situation.

My kids attended a non-denominational pre-school at the local church and every Thursday they had a period where the teacher would introduce them to religion. For this particular story, it was around Easter time and the teacher was talking to the students about how one day Jesus would come and take them (die).

So my son began to question her.

“Will he come get me?” he asked.

“Yes,” she replied.

“Will he come get Mommy?”

“Yes.”

“Daddy?”

“Yes.”

“Nana?”

“Yes.”

This did not sit well with him and he immediately told her, “Well, you tell him when he comes I’m not going!”

“I can’t tell him that,” she said. "It's a good thing when he comes."

“No! I don’t care! When he comes I’m telling him I don’t want to go.”

Apparently, this also set off the kids in the rest of the class as well. As the teacher told me that all the kids, one by one each said for her to tell Jesus that they weren’t going either.

A protest had broken out. “We’re not going!” was the chant by about 12 4-year-olds.

Not expecting this outburst the teacher changed the topic and moved on, but she said it was one of the funniest things she had witnessed and she did realize that she shouldn’t have engaged the kids in the topic. Although, she admitted that in her many years of teaching preschool, she never had a child react the way my son did.

Too funny, right? But it gets better.

Fast forward a few days. I was working during the days again, so my kids were being watched by one of the assistant teachers at our house after preschool until my wife got home from work. We really lucked out with such a great woman to watch our kids, but I digress.

Anyway, after school one day, my son, his twin sister and little sister were playing in the backyard. He was standing on the playset with a toy sword in his hand yelling to his sisters, “Let’s get him! Let’s go get him!” The girls, standing at his feet like disciples, began cheering loudly.

Shocked at what was going on, the sitter asked them, “Get who? Who are you going to get?”

My son, not missing a beat said, “Jesus! We're going to get Jesus before he gets us!”

When I was told the story, I couldn’t stop laughing. I told him that he was about 2008 years too late.

Oh, did I mention that my dad is a Methodist minister? I guess it would be bad for business if it got out that the preacher’s grandson was after the Big Guy.

GENESIS

2009-02-19T11:11:00.000-08:00

A long, long time ago in a… Nevermind that has been used already

In the beginning…Nope think I heard that before somewhere as well.

Once upon a time…This ain’t a fairy tale either.

Anyway, welcome.

At this point, I’m not really sure how this blog is going to evolve, but I can tell you that I primarily plan to share past and present life experiences that I think are entertaining. From family to fantasy (sports that is), I plan to touch on it. There probably isn’t going to be any life lesson to learn and I don’t plan to analyze why people do things. I simply plan to allow you to share in the enjoyment (or laugh at the misery) that is my life.

I’ve been thinking of starting a blog for a few years now. When my wife gave birth for the first time (a set of boy-girl twins) back in 2003, I was laid off from work a week later. So we abruptly changed our plans and I stayed home with the kids for about six months and then began working nights for the next four years or so in order to save on child care bills. It was during this period that I seriously considered a blog as an attempt to share my experiences as a “Daytime Daddy,” but for a number of reasons -- lack of sleep probably being No. 1 -- I didn’t go through with it.

At the time, my parents were really encouraging me to do this, and other family members and friends insisted I had to write down my stories so I wouldn’t forget. I didn’t listen to them and I kind of regret it.

So, now that the kids are older and I have once again rejoined the daily rat race, I have decided to turn my attention to sharing my experiences.

Some stories you will find funny, others probably disturbing, but in the end I hope you are at least a little entertained.